#or crowley even i feel like is a bit of a dog loyal and kicked and strayed

[usercelestial]

can't stop thinking about characters who are dogs. like characters who bark and growl. who bite the hands that feed them and that get mean when they're nervous like bad dogs, who can't help gnawing at a good thing until it bleeds. characters who are loyal and possessive and protective but reckless and feral and rabid. characters who wanna sit at the feet of their owners and characters that can't stop losing. characters who are kicked like strays and put in cages. characters who are muzzled and loud and obedient and mean. characters who are just foaming at the mouth for love and attention, characters who are hungry and savage. characters who are just. dogs.

[castiel-kline]

cas and balthazar meet again post finale

This one really got away from me, and it got really long. I promise it does answer the prompt but I also made it super plotty for some reason. I hope you don’t mind!

Being taken by the Empty didn’t feel like dying. 

Of course, that’s what was happening to him, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt cold, and painful, and vengeful. Lonely and miserable and laced with glittering knives of regret.

It was his damnation. Not the traditional sense of the word, but true nonetheless. 

But if facing it meant he’d save his family? Save Jack from being subject to the same fate? He’d damn himself to this a thousand times over, without a single shred of hesitation. 

The Empty had him entirely covered in its goo, tendrils snaking under his skin and into his body from every angle. In through the eyes, the nose, snaking down his throat. Under the fingernails, into the ears, scraping through the tattered remnants of his grace and pressing down around his true form. 

It was agony. 

Eventually it subsided, and some of the inky tendrils retracted, leaving him gasping for air that neither existed in this realm nor was truly necessary. He collapsed in a heap, the Empty bubbling around him. He spared a glance up, wondering if the Shadow were nearby to gloat before sending them both into slumber. What he saw… well. Unexpected didn’t quite cover it. 

“Jack?” 

“Hmm. Guess again, Castiel.” 

“No.” Don’t you dare look like him.

“Oh, yes. Because it hurts you to look at him, doesn’t it?” The Shadow leaned down, condescension clear as day in its every move. So wrong on Jack’s face that it twisted something deep within him. It stared him down, watching him squirm, mania-painted smirk stretching wider. “Good. I want you to suffer, so that’s what you’re going to do.” 

“I thought you wanted your peace and quiet,” Cas managed, as more tendrils snaked out over his wrists and ankles. Dragging him a little bit further down, completely at the Empty’s mercy. Somehow he suspected that was the point.

The Shadow straightened, looking down Jack’s nose at him. 

“Of course I do,” It said, emulating Jack’s earnestness. Liar. “But I can’t!”

“What?”

“Wonderboy-” the Shadow gesticulated wildly in the direction of its facsimile body “-woke everybody up when he exploded all over me. So I don’t get to sleep, no, and if I don’t get to sleep then you definitely don’t get to sleep. None at all.” 

Quicker than a blink, the Shadow had fisted Castiel’s collar in its hands, bringing their faces inches apart. 

“At least,” It whispered, eyes wild with an energy Jack had never, and would never, possess. “I get to make you suffer like you’ve made me suffer. So I want you to look at this face, Castiel. Look at it, and know that it’s contorted in tears right now because Papa Bear abandoned him.” 

The Shadow threw him down, the goo swallowing him right back up. Submerged in the dark, he scarcely felt its weight. He was too busy drowning in a fresh cascade of guilt.

It yanked him back up, tendrils leaving him suspended in the middle of nothing. Some of them twisted at his feathers, pulling them just enough to be excruciating but not enough to rip them free. He screamed.

“Be quiet!” The Empty released him, and Cas fell back down, every fibre of his being crying out in pain.

The Shadow cackled, everything about it from the pitch to the cadence to the intention screaming wrong, wrong, wrong.

“You’re never going to regret this, are you?”

Cas glared at it, mustering up as much defiance as he could. 

“No,” he croaked. “Because saving my family? That’s worth dying a thousand deaths.”

The Shadow doubled over laughing again. Then, quick as a blink, kicked him across the face, sending him reeling backwards.

“‘Die a thousand deaths’? Please. You’re pathetic, you know that?”

Castiel pushed himself back up, following the Shadow’s pacing with his eyes. It walked with one arm tucked behind its back, the other gesticulating as it spoke.

“Death isn’t going to be enough for you, hmm. Oh, you know what you’ve never been able to take?” It spun back around, grinning down at him. “You can’t stand seeing the pain you’ve caused. And since you can’t see what’s left of your precious little family- not that they even care that you died, by the way- how would you feel about seeing the angels again?”

No. He must have looked visibly afraid, because the Shadow only smiled wider. 

“Not so pleasant a thought, hmm? Seeing as you killed most of them.” It laughed again, clapping its hands in an expression of glee that would have been endearing coming from Jack, but now simply served to be disturbing. “Oh, yes. It’ll be just like throwing a scrap of meat to a pack of starving dogs.”

Cas shook his head, but the Empty pressed on. It waved its hand, and Castiel was thrown some immeasurable distance away. He pushed himself to a sitting position, and watched in horror as the ground bubbled around him, and his brothers and sisters began to crawl their way out.

He recognized them, of course, because he’d taken care to never forget a single name. He saw Hael first, then Bartholomew, then Jonah and Efram and Ambriel and Samandriel. He saw Raphael, Uriel, Anna, Jophiel. He scrambled to his feet, unable to do anything but watch and wait for their wrath to undoubtedly descend upon him. 

Someone grabbed him from behind and pulled, running and dragging Castiel with them. He didn’t fight it, figuring that whoever had him was going to inflict a world of pain and there wasn’t a thing to do but accept it. They’d gone a fair distance, if there was such a thing as distance in nothing, before they stopped and Cas turned to face who had taken him. 

“Balthazar?” His voice came out strangled, as scarcely more than a whisper. 

“Cas,” Balthazar said, staring at him with something unreadable in his eyes. “Your wings…”

“Balthazar,” Cas repeated, finding himself unable to say anything else, mind swirling in an inescapable vortex of grief and guilt and pain. “I’m sorry, my friend. I’m so sorry.”

“What, for killing me? You weren’t yourself.”

“I was. That’s the problem.”

Balthazar just shook his head. “It’s going to take more than a stab in the back to get rid of me. You do know that, right?”

“If we weren’t already dead I’d offer you my blade to kill me. I deserve nothing more.”

“Castiel.” Cas forced himself to meet Balthazar’s eyes directly. “I know you, and so I forgive you. As I’ve told you before- nothing’s changed.”

Cas smiled bitterly. “Except me.”

“What happened to you?” Balthazar’s fingers traced the air where Castiel’s wings lay mangled and twisted in another dimension. “You look like you’ve been clawed apart by feral house cats.”

“I destroyed everything, Balthazar. So many times.” And he felt like he was being crushed under the weight of all his mistakes. Perhaps this was the torture the Empty preferred for him- giving him back a lost friend, giving him forgiveness- and then ripping it away again. Surely even someone as loyal as Balthazar wouldn’t want to associate with him after learning of the things he’d done.

“You, Cassie? I’ve only ever known you to do what’s right.”

“How can you say that when you saw me make one of my biggest mistakes? When I killed you because of it?”

Balthazar scoffed. “Mistake? Cas, you were trying to stop our control freak of an older brother from letting the other ones out to destroy the world. What about that is a mistake? Sure, Crowley was a bit of a snake, but come on. It can’t have been so long that you’ve forgotten your good intentions.”

Cas didn’t say a word, and Balthazar narrowed his eyes. “How long has it been, Cas?”

Cas sighed. “Nine years.”

“Nine years.” Balthazar’s eyebrows had shot all the way up. “Wow. Not long at all. So what could… no. Tell me you weren’t.”

Castiel frowned. “Weren’t what?”

“Weren’t still kissing the Winchesters’ asses for the whole nine years.”

“They’re my friends, Balthazar.”

“Oh, really?” Balthazar crossed his arms. “If they’re your friends, why did they treat you like one of the guns they keep in the trunk of their wretched car?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it, Cas?” Balthazar sighed, backing down a little. Nine years of death wouldn’t stop them from bickering, it seemed, though he did put a hand on Cas’ shoulder. An uncharacteristic attempt to show solidarity through the sarcasm.

“Look,” Balthazar continued. “What you do is your business, but… just tell me there was something good in those years. That it wasn’t just you running around trying to prove yourself to them.”

There was something, in fact, something he’d never expected. Something beautiful.

“I had a son,” he admitted. He’d often wondered what Jack would be like meeting angels that weren’t hell-bent on killing him. He’d imagined Jack meeting Balthazar, or Hannah, or Rachel or Samandriel, but it would never come to fruition. The best he would get was telling them about him, assuming he would be able to escape being choked and stretched and drowned by the depths of the Empty for all eternity.

“Why, Cassie, I’m impressed,” Balthazar said wryly. Oh no. Before Cas could interject and explain, Balthazar continued. “Looks like you really did get that stick out of your ass. And you put it right up-”

“Balthazar! He’s not mine, not like that. He chose me, and his mother was a friend. That’s all.”

Balthazar seemed to enjoy how flustered he was, but his tone was serious. “You adopted a human child?”

“No, he’s a nephilim.”

“Ah,” Balthazar said. “So they changed the rules regarding them in the past nine years, then?”

“No,” Cas said again, getting frustrated. He’d forgotten how much Balthazar loved to hear himself speak. Even if he had missed it, it was still mildly insufferable.

“Well, you rebel Cas, you. But, ah- who was the sire?”

Cas winced. “Lucifer.”

“Oh, my. That is unfortunate.”

“Yeah. Jack’s nothing like him, though. He’s… he’s very much like his mother. And I like to think he’s a little bit like me, too.”

Balthazar looked at him, somehow still reading him like a book after all this time.

“You spoil the poor child, don’t you?”

“I most certainly do not,” Cas huffed.

“Oh, yes you do. You’ve always been soft, but now you’re practically a down pillow.”

Cas’ smile was sadder, again. “I told you I’ve changed.”

“Maybe so. But we haven’t.”

“Thank you.”

Balthazar smiled. “I do have one question though, Cas.”

“Of course.”

“How did you die?”

Well. He supposed it would have had to be asked eventually. Unfortunately his hesitation gave Balthazar another opportunity to talk over him.

“Please don’t tell me it was for the Winchesters.”

“I love them.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. And unfortunately I love that about you. Well, go on. Tell me a story.”

Cas shrugged. “I made a deal with the Empty. My life for Jack’s, which- it wasn’t even a question. It said that when I was finally happy, it would take me.”

Balthazar frowned. “What did you in?”

“You know, I’m not really sure. But I managed to save Dean, and that’s all that matters.”

“Oh, Cas,” Balthazar muttered, sounding deeply sad. “Well, at least you were clearly a better father than our dear old absent God. That much is clear.”

Cas’ heart sank. He couldn’t not tell him, though he didn’t necessarily want to break the news.

“Balthazar.”

“What?”

“Um. A lot has happened since I’ve last seen you, and there’s a lot you need to know, but God- God was never on our side.”

--------

They walked aimlessly through the Empty, keeping aware for signs of their siblings or the Shadow, but oddly finding none.

“Well then,” Balthazar said, flippant as ever. Cas was nearly sure he was deflecting.

“That’s all you have to say? You’re not angry?”

“Nope.” Forced cheerfulness. “Never liked him anyway. Frankly, I’m surprised you even met the man.”

Cas paused and stopped moving, feeling something tugging at his grace.

“Cas, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” Balthazar had stopped too, hovering closer. 

A pocket of the nothingness in front of them seemed to pull itself inward, caving in like a black hole and then cracking open just a bit. Was this what it looked like when someone died and came to the Empty?

Hopefully not, because the distortion cleared and Jack was standing there. And it was painfully, obviously Jack, clearly indicated by everything from his posture to the grace Cas could feel reaching for his own.

Balthazar stiffened, preparing for a fight, but the minute Jack caught sight of Castiel the angel found himself with an armful of nephilim. He held on tight, feeling Jack trembling slightly.

Having connected the dots, Balthazar caught his eye over Jack’s shoulder and mouthed “down pillow.” Cas shook his head slightly, but turned his attention back to his son.

“Jack? Are you-”

“I’m getting you out, Cas,” Jack said, pulling back. “We’re both getting out of here.”

Balthazar’s stricken expression tugged at Cas’ heart.

“Just me?” Cas asked.

Jack’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“The other angels are awake, Jack. Can you…”

“I… maybe. But, Cas, I don’t… I don’t know them. Why…”

“It’s alright if you can’t,” Cas assured. “But if we can help them somehow, be that bringing them back or putting them to sleep… I need to try to make things right.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll try to help.”

Cas smiled at him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “Thank you. And thank you for coming to get me.”

“Of course. I missed you,” Jack said, eyes wide. Cas felt something else inside him twisting.

Balthazar cleared his throat, and Cas gently turned Jack around to face the third member of their party.

“Jack, this is Balthazar. He’s a good friend.”

Jack and Balthazar looked at each other, Jack frowning and Balthazar smirking in a horribly misguided attempt to be friendly. The silence stretched on, utterly deafening. Jack broke it first.

“I… I met an alternate universe version of you that was not very nice.”

Balthazar didn’t miss a beat.

“Well, you know what they say. Don’t judge an angel by their alternate universe counterparts, right?”

That got a bit of a smile out of Jack, though he was still wary. Cas couldn’t blame him, so he kept in contact to keep him at ease.

“We need to find the Shadow. Make an arrangement so that we can take a few angels with us and the Empty goes back to peace and quiet,” Jack said. The self-assuredness was clearly a front, but somehow Cas felt as if he’d have time to help Jack through it. 

“Okay,” he said, nodding at Jack. Jack nodded back, and the three of them started walking. Into what, they didn’t know. 

But Castiel had the strangest feeling that it was all going to turn out alright.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

What Might Have Been - 9

(This one got a few re-writes and wound up not very connected to the prompt. Sorry! CW for some violent intrusive thoughts, but not very graphic.)

This is part of a single story for the @goodomenscelebration​ “Theme” prompts.

Parts 1-6

Part 7

Part 8

Doubt

It’s a trap. He’ll hurt you. Destroy him.

The whispers were starting again, but the Antichrist waved them aside. The first ones were always easy to ignore. Once, he’d been able to go weeks – almost a month – fighting them off, but the times when he could be himself were getting shorter and shorter. Maybe soon there would be no time at all.

He studied the demon crouched beside him for another moment. Dark clothes, red hair, sharp features. He’d been wearing a pair of sunglasses before, pitch-black lenses curved over his face to hide the glint of his bright yellow eyes from most angles. Now they were in his hand, the metal arms (black with bright red flames) hidden.

He didn’t look like a demon, not really. The eyes did, the black wings he’d briefly revealed, the sigil on the hinge of his jaw.  But apart from that, he looked human. Demons didn’t usually bother to look very human.

“So,” he started, ready to teleport the demon as far as possible if he didn’t like the answer, “if you’re not supposed to bring me back to the war…why are you here?”

“Looking for an angel.” The demon glanced around, his eyes distant. “Not even sure where to start.”

The Antichrist nodded. Some of the angels and demons were sworn enemies, locked in eternal single combat. “Your Adversary?”

The demon grinned, but there was nothing bloodthirsty about it. “Oh yeah.” He stood up, brushing himself off, then held out a hand for the Antichrist. “Had him in my clutches this morning, but he slipped away. And now…” the grin faded.

Ignoring the hand, the Antichrist stood up. “The nearest fighting’s down by the coast. Brighton, when I ran, probably spreading from there. Th biggest is over America…” he closed his eyes to concentrate. “Yeah, New York. And smaller fights in what’s left of the Amazon, and somewhere over the mountains in Asia and…” he looked at the demon again. “Is this angel good at fighting?”

“The best,” he said, with some kind of strange pride.

“Probably America. That’s where I’m supposed to go next, but…”

“I don’t think so.” The demon wandered back to the inn, where a still-partially-green plant in a red pot sat in the box planter. Tucking the glasses in his pocket, he carefully picked it up and walked back. Was it some sort of weapon? He hadn’t heard of that type of biological warfare, but you never knew. “He was here, my Adversary. Or not too far, anyway. I And he doesn’t really like America. He’d stay close, I think.” The demon sauntered past the Antichrist with hardly a glance. “Just gotta keep looking.”

More whispers, destroy him, forget him, find your destiny, but the Antichrist pushed them away again, and found himself following after. “Is he on one of the Retrieval squads? They’re supposed to be some of the best fighters. The Guardian of Humanity only picks the best.”

“I don’t know about Retrieval Squads,” the demon said. “He doesn’t get on well with other angels. But Guardian of Humanity…that sounds like his kind of scene. They keep the humans safe?”

“It’s what they say,” Adam said darkly. “If he’s mixed up in that, I can’t help you.”

“Adam, if there’s anyone who can help me, it’s you.” The demon frowned, studying the buildings lining the road behind them.. “Can probably help me figure out what happened here, too. This…” He tucked the plant under one arm and waved a hand at the last house, bricks melted to mud. Across the street, the remains of a stone wall and a marker stone of some kind, broken down and scattered as if kicked over by an unruly toddler. “This is wrong.”

“Dunno. Same thing that happened to all the villages.” Rumor had it there were still a few holdouts, but they tended to be destroyed a few hours after the Antichrist arrived. Having an army of demons will do that.

He didn’t realize the demon had stopped until almost too late, and the Antichrist very nearly walked into him. “Look. This is going to be a lot easier if you just do your mind-reading trick. I give you permission.”

“No,” the Antichrist said firmly. “I don’t – not anymore.” He shuddered, trying not to remember the last time. The feel of maggots on his flesh, the voices in his head. Rip his arm off, one of them suggested, rising a little above the whispers. That’ll teach him some respect.

“Adam? What happened?”

The Antichrist knew if he looked up again, he’d see golden eyes watching him. Might even see an expression he’d never expected to find on a demonic face, on any face ever turned to him again.

He kept staring at his shoes.

“I…didn’t want to fight. Kept teleporting home, even though no one was there. They’d drag me back. One day I read their minds and told them their battleplans were stupid.”

The demon chuckled at that. “That’s my boy. Bet they were stupid.”

“They were glorious,” the Antichrist said, bitterly. “Battles that would rip apart the Earth, shows of power that would make everyone quake in fear. And more than half our forces would be lost in the first three years.”

A long pause while the demon glanced around, taking in the destruction, the boiling red rivers cutting across the field, the pond reduced to an empty pit with a black tar at the bottom. A swarm of locust rose from the dead grass, the only sign of life. “I take it you didn’t convince them to change their plans?”

The Antichrist raised his head to meet the demon’s eyes, but wasn’t ready for that. It was easier to stare at his shoulder. “They. They locked me in a cell with a pair of demons.” His throat grew tight. “Made me read their minds. Over and over. Every…nasty thing they’d ever done, all their awful thoughts…”

For days afterwards, he’d thought like them. Gloried in the idea of ripping people apart, destruction for the sheer joy of it. Even now, one voice whispered, Hurt him. Rip his wings off. Lock him in a church and laugh as he tries to escape. He didn’t even think there were any churches left, not around here.

“Hey. Adam.” The Antichrist let his eyes flick up for a second, meeting the golden eyes of the demon. Like a cat. Or a snake. “Let me guess. Hastur and Ligur?” He nodded. “Nasty pieces of work. And you were…all alone? No friends? No dog?”

The Antichrist shoved his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t really have any friends. All those rich kids, we just tried to outdo each other, you know? Who had the better toys, who could throw a cooler birthday party. Never really talked with any of them. When things turned bad…” he shrugged, frowning. “As for the dog, he finds me sometimes, drags me back to the fighting.”

The demon scratched his head, looking confused. “Your dog does that? ‘S not right. You should be able to control him. He was designed to obey you, be loyal only to you.”

“You’re kidding.” The demon didn’t look like the kind to joke around. “How’s a kid like me supposed to control a Hellhound?”

A long silence. The Antichrist wished he knew what the demon was thinking about, but he still refused to read his mind. Refused to allow another voice in. Finally, he stepped in front of the Antichrist, making it very hard to look away. “Call him by his name, Adam.”

“Killer?” His expression crumpled into pained disbelief. It would have been funny, if anything in the world could still be funny. “I know. The kids at the party suggested all these really violent names. Widow-Maker. Throat-Ripper. Luger. They said a bit scary dog needed a big scary name and…I didn’t want to look lame.”

“What did you want to call him?” the demon asked.

“Dunno. I had one I liked but…I mean…it was dumb,” he confessed. “Stupid kid stuff.”

“Call him that next time, Adam.” A hand with long, thin fingers fell on his shoulder, squeezed gently. “Every creature prefers to be called his real name.”

The demon started walking again, and Adam followed.

--

--

For those curious, Crowley’s new glasses:

I wanted something a bit more relaxed post-Apocalypse. He’s started letting the walls down a little, so we’ve lost the side-shields and gone for a Ray-Ban-style design. I think Aziraphale helped him pick them out, in that Aziraphale was there, saying vaguely encouraging things for each pair of glasses while not really having a strong opinion.

[gravityfissure]

[meta] What, if any, games, movies, books, tv shows, etc. have you drawn influence from for your character?

Okay so round 2, much in the same vein for Arthur there are... A lot. Possibly even more things that influence and inspire where Otto’s muse and views comes from. That said in writing this there are also a LOT of similarities between the characters I can pick out certain attributes and to be honest there’s a lot of crossover with the traits and characterisations highlighted.

Namely: playful and proactive, self-serving yet loyal to those that meet his criteria as to who is deserving of it. A grifter by nature that will approach almost any situation if he feels he’ll get something out of it while equally hoping that one day someone might actually bother to ask him (and maybe give him a true reason) to stay.

Dorian - Dragon Age: Inquisition

Uh, the heir of a famous magical dynasty? A flair of magical talent that made him the envy of his peers? Studied at one of the best colleges for the magical arts before being kicked out and privately tutored before eventually vanishing and being found by Magister Gereon Alexius who offered to take him as his apprentice eventually becoming a fully-ranked enchanter. A pariah for opposing every fault his homeland is renowned for?

It’s been years since I’ve played DA:I and Dorian always was one of my favourite characters but tbh I completely forgot his background and it’s only in revisiting it now I actually realise the similarities in the framework of their characters/development/story line. Not to mention the fact they both enjoy playful flirtation and witty banter and oppose the things they don’t fit into their view of the world. They will probably do the right thing, but that doesn’t mean they might not take their sweet ass time in actually getting into a situation.

Isabela - Dragon Age II and Inquisition 

AND AGAIN. Isabela’s a great character - a pirate scourge of coastlines and nations around the world who values fun, freedom and getting ahead in life. They both value solving situations in clever and devious ways and getting ahead even if it means being somewhat selfish when they’re dealing with other people, example: Otto conning Deirdre out of $28k when she tried to cover for Regan or those plans he has to try and record a banshee scream? They’re both always down for trying to squeeze that little bit extra out of a person. If it one ups them in life and people are gullible enough to fall for it well... They really did it to themselves didn’t they?

But that doesn’t mean there aren’t depths to that hardened persona they both present. There are actual feelings and things hidden behind the wall and appearance they both present to the world. And underneath it all they’re both afraid of being left behind, but figure it’s best to push people away before they decide to leave of their own volition. At least that way they can say they have some control over the situation.. 

Sera - Dragon Age: Inquisition

Apparently this is a DA characters list but you know what sue me. x) So NEXT on the list is Sera, an elven archer who is incredibly impulsive and reactionary. She takes pure delight in humbling the established authority she views as arrogant and selfish. It’s less about what’s right in the grand scheme of things but more about what’s right in that very moment. She doesn’t believe in actions taken for a greater good, instead viewing it as just another excuse to hurt others undeserving of such treatment because it’s easier than making the truly hard choices in life. 

Felix Dawkins - Orphan Black

Look Felix is one of the many fascinating characters on Orphan Black. Don’t get me wrong there are SO many and it’s a great show. But Felix is a character whose very existence proves that you can have a very effeminate, boisterous, loud, witty gay character and not have him be limited to the perpetuation of the sassy gay friend stereotype. Why? Because he has a whole complex personality beyond just that aspect of his life. He’s got to deal with real life issues on top of all the drama clone club brings into his life and he deals and he survives and he cOPES.

Not to mention he’s a positive representation of foster children being happy, positive representation of LGBTQ+ characters and gives positive representation of sex workers. Not to mention on top of all that representation you see how he’s smart as hell, the only person who knows Sarah well enough to keep her on track. The BEST uncle to Kira and one of the most supportive characters on the show. 

Sarah - Orphan Black

Felix’s foster-sister, another character that shows the positive and complex dynamic that foster families tend to have while also demonstrating the fascinating found-family dynamic with clone club. Sarah’s interesting because she’s a natural chameleon, she’s street-smart and tough, a born outsider living on the fringes by her wits while in possession of a dark sense of humour that sees her by.

Sarah and Otto have a rather morally ambiguous compass, they’re both characters who swing between being very self-serving and selfish and acting for the greater good when they decide it’s needed. Not to mention the act as if they don’t care about other people’s issues (see clone club) when actually it transpires they both might just care a little more than they actually let on.

Garcia Flynn - Timeless

Unfortunately Garcia fits the my favourite character type: tall, dark, snarky, sassy antihero motivated fiercely by love and willing to do things of questionable morality against a greater evil, self-aware and doesn’t make excuses for his behaviour, but isn’t wringing his hands over it either.  A character who so dearly loves the people in his life (see revenge for his wife and daughter) so much so he’s still fighting for them 5 years later just to be alive and not even to have anything to do with him again because he knows the things he’s done are enough the he could never go back to being that person for them. The man who loved his mum and went on a trip just to make her happy and save his brother. When he truly cares for someone he does EVERYTHING for them while somehow having none of the toxic jealous possessive business, despite his  well-attested Garbage Drama in other departments, and just generally being a mature adult and an essentially good person who has gone down some really dark places and is finally rediscovering what he’s buried and lost. Look man, I’m a suuuuuuuuuuuuucker for found family, enemies to lovers, and villain becomes weird family member. And he covers all of those, so yes. 

There’s a lot of that I’m planning and drawing on for Otto, this weird currently antagonistic little self-serving shit who is out for his own ends but maybe along the way finds some semblence of a conscious and maybe has a fair few moral dilemmas and self-questioning moments along the way? Who maybe finds friends (and even love?) Who has to deal with FEELINGS and things he’s repressed for years because of the things he’s done just to survive the life he fell into? Uh, yes give me give me give me.

Jesse Custer - Preacher

Okay, so this one’s kind of another given. Jesse’s another character I’m fascinated with because before Genesis’ arrival he was a down upon his luck preacher. A man who was trying so hard to fit into his dad’s ideal and not let the life he had before affect his day to day. Except it all goes to hell in a handbasket because of course it does.

Jesse essentially gains the ability to make anyone do anything he says. And that power? It’s addictive, and we see the struggle he goes through to learn how to control and manipulate it to his own end. To begin with he tries to right wrongs, to tell people to stop doing the bad things they’re doing in their lives and fix them so they’re better people but with each act that power and god-complex grows. It goes to his head until we meet the moronic messiah Humperdoo and Jesse eventually agrees to take his place. The messiah-complex and power corruption is complete, and the repercussions of his choices are devastating especially with how they impact Cassidy or Tulip and the repercussions in Angelville.

Much like Otto’s own magic, the more its used the more enticing it is to carry on using it for more and more things. At first it was small deeds, little acts of good until Otto in kind started to realise that good deeds weren’t enough to make a change. They weren’t enough for other people around him and with each act it grew and grew - and it continues to grow. The question is to what level? And if it ever got out of control, would he ever know how to stop it?

Crowley - Good Omens

An overall non-threatening demon, who tries to be “evil” in his own way to fit into the role his society (other demons) expect of him. Crowley wants to save the world (for his own reasons) and can be rather self-serving in certain moments. There’s plenty of times he tried to convince Aziraphale to run away with him and let everything else forgive the irony but for lack of a better term “go to hell” but he always comes around in the end (typically to a Queen track) to help when it really counts for something.

 Not to mention his flare for the dramatic, very rarely thinking things through, with many of his own plans backfiring on him.  

Sound familiar?

Wrench - Watch Dogs 2

Part-hacker and full-fledged anarchist who wears a freaky mask with LED displays capable of bizarre emoticons. He's vulgar, crude, entertaining and an absolute adrenaline junkie who lives on the edge. He's jokingly called the wrench because he's the wrench you throw into somebody's gears to grind them to a halt.

The final one on the list, because it’s a side I haven’t yet played into so much but I’m curious to given means and opportunity to. Otto does have some inclination towards an anarchistic nature, if a system doesn’t seem to work he isn’t afraid to speak out or more likely act out against it. Whether it’s in the greater good or not isn’t so much relevant rather that he would happily take a torch and burn something to the ground if it meant starting again with something new and better in its place. It’s definitely something I want to explore more down the line.

I also find it interesting the whole concept of “hiding behind a mask” which is something wrench quite literally does. Both have built personas to defend themselves from people breaking through and seeing that what actually exists on the other side is a rather shy and awkward person who tries to “act out” and be “dramatic” in an attempt to get attention from a world in which there’s so much noise how could anyone ever feel like their voice mattered let alone be heard unless they started shouting “HEY, LOOK AT ME” at the top of his lungs?  

[tealquacks]

As a sequel of sorts, Lucifer himself welcoming Gabriel to Hell. You can portray the former as pitying his newly Fallen brother, mocking him and being sarcastic and perhaps even feeling triumphant at having obtained one of Heaven's best angels, or even a mix of both.

A demon saw Gabriel hit the sulfur in a huge plume of yellow, the smell of scorched flesh and feather permeating the air. This demon sits on rocky ground, and waits. It takes time.

In Paradise Lost by John Milton, he discribes the watching demon as “than whom, Satan except, none higher sat."

Poets and theologians and occultists alike seem to not know what they represent, Sebastien Michaelis declared this demon was associated with pride. Peter Binsfeild disputed this by saying they were representative of another deadly sin, gluttony. Interestingly, Francis Barrett did not relate them to any sin, instead crowning them the prince of false gods. Most people can agree, however, that this one is a big deal.

Right now, they’re watching Gabriel’s holiness boil away, a little bit of pearlescent smoke rising up back to heaven. They watched, almost giddy.

You may know them as the demon Jesus was accused of evoking to rid people of demonic possession in Luke 11:14–26. You may also know them as The Lord of the Flies (not the book, but they would probably greatly enjoy the events of the book), or you may know them from a single queen lyric, in which they have a devil put aside for the singer.

Regardless of title or status or sin, Beelzebub watched another archangel become a demon. They stood and walked closer to the edge of the sulfur pit, watching Gabriel lay against the bottom of the pool. It was hard to tell what he looked like, what with the swirling roll of sulfur obscuring the surface. They wondered what he would look like, once he breeched the surface. There was no stopping it now, they realized with a smile, he was all out of miracles.

A burnt, clawed hand shot out of the sulfur, digging into the rocky shore. Beelzebub watched, silent but undeniably happy, as Gabriel crawled out of the pit. His hands ended in long, sharp claws, black veins running from his wrists up his arm, rippling with unnaturally strong muscles. His clothes hung in scorched, black tatters over his body, and even his face looked different, covered in odd markings, the jaw slightly larger, almost, like a dog’s. Huge, black wings, four of them, hid the rest of his body. Surprisingly, his eyes were still purple.

Beelzebub’s flies buzzed frantically around them, a chorus of laughter at Gabriel’s expense.

“What’s going on?” He whimpered, looking like a kicked dog, laying down at their feet. The flies cackled along with Beelzebub. They grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up. The look of pure, unadulterated fear was delectable.

“Welcome to hell. There’s someone that wants to see you. Follow me.”

Gabriel looked around with panic filled eyes, but followed like a loyal dog.

—

The catacombs of hell were lined with sound, demons pressed up against the walls, desperate to see but scared to get close. It was like a crowd watching a parade, Beelzebub proudly marching by, wearing their very best, Gabriel following behind them, wrapped in a pair of his wings, the other pair dragging behind. All around him, they were whispering, louder than Beelzebub’s flies. The ‘parade’ ended at a huge set of doors that opened menacingly, sending the other demons scattering in fear.

Gabriel swallowed. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, but he couldn’t bare to look at them. He dragged his tongue over his teeth, shuddering when they felt too sharp, too many.

Beelzebub looked at him, then grabbed his arm, yanking him into the room.

It was huge, vaulted ceiling making every single step of theirs echo. Seven thrones, each of them empty, yet still grand even without their occupants in the middle. A figure stood in the center of the rotunda of thrones, clothed in luxurious looking furs, his hair a mess of curls that only yielded to the crown on his head. He turned around.

Gabriel’s breath caught in his throat.

“Lucifer?”

It was him. The Morning Star, the Light Bringer, the fallen Son of the Dawn. The Prince of hell, the demon associated with Pride, the first archangel to fall, smiled.

“Gabriel. It’s good to see you,” he said, rushing to Gabriel. He put his hands on his shoulders, looking over him with a bewildered look on his face. Gabriel couldn’t move, locked in place by fear.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“You look awful.”

Gabriel almost said something, but then Lucifer was slipping off his cloak of furs, draping it over Gabriel. It was warm and comfortably heavy on his shoulders.

“I told you he fell,” Beelzebub said, oddly proud.

Lucifer looked at them, only clad in a simple, black robe.

“Why did he fall?”

“He tried to kill the traitors, Crowley and Aziraphale.”

Lucifer’s eyes went big, and he chuckled. Gabriel flinched.

“Really?”

Gabriel nodded.

“I had a chance, so I took it. I tried to do the right thing.”

“And you ended up here. You see, their side doesn’t care about right or wrong, just good. Sometimes, the right thing isn’t the good thing.”

Gabriel looked down at his feet.

“They deserved to die, for what they did. They went against god.”

“Yet you fell. And I’m glad you did, because I missed you, so, so much.”

Gabriel looked up, eyes wet with tears.

“What happened to Raphael?”

Lucifer’s face went grim.

“We’ll talk about that later. But I have a proposition for you.” He grabbed his arms, leaning down to look him in the eyes. “There’s a position open.”

“What?” Beelzebub said.

“Gabriel,” Lucifer proceeded, “I want you to be the duke of hell.”

“Lucifer-“ Beelzebub screeched, outraged.

What Beelzebub had failed to realize was that even though Gabriel was out of miracles, nepotism existed, even in the depths of hell.

Gabriel blinked, dumbfounded.

“It’s good to see you, Lucy.”

Lucifer smiled. He pulled Gabriel into a hug, a hug that Gabriel reciprocated against his instincts, which screamed at him to run.

“Is that a yes?”

Gabriel buried his face in Lucifer’s shoulder.

“Yes.”

[creaturedom]

Miscalculation (Part 3)

I’m hoooome! This has been so fun, I’m not sure how many parts this will end up being, but I hope you’ll enjoy it while it lasts! Thank you to everyone whose been sending such sweet messages and for your support so far. And reminder: please don’t share outside of sneeze/whump blogs, thank you!

[Part One] [Part Two]

This didn’t feel like a compromise. A compromise would be offering to take the hellhound for the day, give Aziraphale the chance to remember what breathing felt like, maybe reconvene for brunch the next day so he could take the final shift. Or perhaps offering to come over to take Dog on his daily walks and feed him outside to help a little. This, however, was not any of that. Crowley’s idea of compromise was apparently the three of them rushing back to his flat in the middle of the afternoon, no lunch or thought as to what to bring for the pet to stay the night, and hide out until this blew over. Which the angel had to admit was better than offering to whisk the two of them away to a quiet galaxy, but this didn’t change the fact he was still trapped with the one thing he could hardly look at without a sniffle. Speaking of which...

“HiihTSchh-!” Aziraphale dipped forward into his bandana once more, his face lingering in it as a soft moan escaped his lips. “Oooh, my head...” There was a throbbing in his sinuses that was starting to spread. The bandana only lowered so he could rub his temple, wincing a bit at the pressure. The day had taken quite a toll on Aziraphale, but Dog looked oblivious as ever as he skipped and barked around Aziraphale’s feet.

“Get down already, get down!” He shoved the hellhound aside with his foot, meeting the others growl with his own, which helped quiet Dog down some. “Now first thing’s first you’re going to take a shower- I repeat, a shower- you know it heats up quick, so don’t blast it. Scrub off all this nonsense, reconvene in my room, and we’ll have this problem solved!” Aziraphale still looked quite miserable, but a small smile painted his lips as he wiggled a bit in place “So a shower and not a wonderfully soothing, top of the notch bubble bath in that nice big tub of yours..?”

There was a pause between the two, Aziraphale wearing his goofy little grin while Crowley stared back with the usual scowl. It did curl up into a smile though, just like his pointer finger did as it came up and poked the tip of the angel’s red nose. Aziraphale’s nose scrunched, a new wave of irritation tumbling through, and he barely had enough time to bring the bandana up as a familiar gasp escaped.

“Hih’ptschh- hihtschh- hah’TSCHHhoo!” He opened his eyes blearily to find Crowley smirking down at him “I think you just gave yourself the answer. Steam’ll help clear you up faster anyway, so hop to it.” Despite every miserable moment Aziraphale found himself pouting as he went to the bathroom. Crowley, on the other hand, was a bit busy keeping something out of the way. He managed to hold Dog by the collar as the angel made his way inside, though the little hellhound whipped its body and growled in frustration as Aziraphale left his sight. “Ooho, no no, you’re not getting any closer to that angel. Understand?” There was a familiar snarl to his tone, the plants in the next room began to quiver in response. Dog, however, seemed unfazed. So much so that when Crowley let the damn thing go he bounded to the closed door to sit and stare intently.

“Ugh, come on, do you have to follow Adam to a T? Leave him be in there, you can sit near him when he comes out!” He came over to snatch Dog, only to be met with a surprise. Dog’s head snapped back like an owl, eyes flashing bright red as a low growl emerged from his muzzle. The hiss of the shower was about the only sound exchanged at this point, and after a moment Crowley stepped back and Dog’s head snapped forward again, tail wagging as if nothing had changed. “... I’m drawing the line at jumping on my fucking furniture, but carry on.”

Aziraphale groaned softly as the warm water soaked his hair and face, washing away lingering irritants from Dog. He hated to admit it, but Crowley was right on the money as usual, and the shower truly was making him feel better. Helped a bit too that when looking through the soaps it seemed another smaller soap rack seemed to be ready for him, quite conveniently stacked with the brands Aziraphale often used. He happily scrubbed himself down, with the exception of a couple sneezes, and emerged about twenty minutes later from the bathroom, dried and wrapped in a spare bathrobe he kept there. Now that Heaven and Hell seemed to back off, it was easier to leave a few things here and there for their own convenience..

But, the first face he saw was in fact not Crowley’s, but Dog’s. He was looking up with those irresistibly round eyes and wagging his scruffy little tail, it was almost enough to make Aziraphale forget everything that had happened prior “Ooh, you’ve been waiting a while, haven’t you? Such a loyal pup...” He glanced around for Crowley, but it didn’t look like he was out of his room just yet. In fact, things were a bit quieter than he was used to in the flat. Dog spun in a circle and looked up expectantly at the angel, and Aziraphale found his heart aching.

“Perhaps... One treat is in order, for being so diligent.” With the snap of his fingers one of his robe pockets distended, and he reached in to retrieve a biscuit for the eager hellhound. Or, it started as one. When Dog received the first treat he started running in circles. The second treat he did a backflip, which who in their right mind couldn’t reward that? And rolling over, and holding his paw to shake, and those ever so beautifully begging eyes... Dog had quickly won the angel over again, and Aziraphale was now wrapped around his little paw. “Why are you such a good boy? Who loves you besides Adam, hm? It’s me, I love you~.” With a coo and two hands lovingly scratching Dog’s ears, Aziraphale had unknowingly sealed his fate once more.

“Ey, you bout finished?”

“Ah- yes, coming!”

Aziraphale offered one more ruffle of his fluffy face before scampering off into the bedroom. By now Crowley had already discarded his sunglasses, yellow eyes looking the angel over with a wide smirk. “I assume you made yourself at home?” Aziraphale merely smiled back, quick to slide in beside him and wrap an arm over his stomach. Crowley squirmed to get lower and he turned his attention to the tv hanging opposite of the bed, three familiar old ladies appearing “You’re just in time for the marathon, the girls are all fighting over the play director and they’re all convinced they’re gonna fuck him.”

“Hah, Crowley, I don’t think it counts as a marathon of they play it on the same block every single day..” The demon was already sucked in as he waved a hand with a quick shush and leaned back to enjoy the rest of episode, leaving Aziraphale to chuckle softly and nestle against him. Dog seemed to be getting the gist of the housing rules and settled on Aziraphale’s side of the bed, laying down with the most pitiful look on his face. The angel, however, was too wrapped in the moment with Crowley to pay attention for the time being. Absentmindedly Aziraphale pulled a hand up to rub at his nose, the dull ache still remaining from the previous sneezing. Something felt off again though.

It wasn’t just soreness, it was a prickle. Buzzing low in the back of his nose, it seemed. He rubbed it some more with a slight wince, but it seemed that it was only growing stronger the more he did so. “Angel..?” Aziraphale sniffs back, forcing a smile for the other “Ah- Sorry, I’m fine! Just a little tender is all...”

“Of course it’s tender, you’re rubbing it raw.” Crowley chuckled as he pulled the other closer “Just leave it be, it’ll pass with time.”

“Mm, I suppose you’re right..” But it wasn’t passing. It was starting to burn, and judging from past experience, he was starting to get a clue on why. He had only touched Dog for a second, could it really kick in so quickly once more? Damnit, Crowley was going to have a fit if he found out about this... Aziraphale did his best to focus on the program, but even his eyes were starting to water a bit as the tickle became stronger. He hid hitches as best he could by sniffing back, but he was teetering on the edge, and soon he found he couldn’t take it. He had to sneeze, but... At the perfect moment.

He watched Crowley closely as he watched the episode, as usual the demon’s body would shake with his laugh. He always found it so endearing how big a laugh four old ladies managed to coax out of Crowley, but in this case he was waiting for the consistency. The laugh track would go off, he would start laughing, and it gave Aziraphale a good seven seconds to get this right. When he felt he had it right he waited, squinting at Crowley through tears eyes until he saw the smile split his face, quick to pinch his nose shut and curl into Crowley’s side.

“Ht'kshhx- Nn’gshx- Ip’tSHxx-!” His body rocked in rhythm with the demon’s and he let out a shaken sigh of relief, which Crowley responded to by rubbing his shoulder “That’s the spirit, let the biddies cure ya of all your woes!” He smiled at Crowley, who was already looking ahead again, grateful as the laugh track sounded once more “HhPTxx—tschh—tshhx, tSChhh-!” So far so good, but it wasn’t enough to end the terrible tickle. It was only building the longer he prolonged it, and soon he was finding himself rather lightheaded. Just a little longer, he would convince himself, just a little longer through the next joke, but horror struck as the screen faded to a car commercial. It’s as if all concentration faulted as soon as he saw it speeding around the corner, and just as Crowley looked down to ask something, Aziraphale’s trembling hands came around his nose, and disaster finally struck.

“Ehh..! Hehh-k'tshIEW!! Hehh'kSHEW!! Hihh.... Hah—hehh'kshHEWW—Ktt'schh, kihh'tschh, K'hihtsHH-!!” His chest heaved with sharp gasps, he could feel the other jump and put his arms more securely around Aziraphale “Hah'ktSHHhh! I’b s-sorrRTSCHhhoo! S-So sorry— Gihh'TSCHhhoo! Hah— hah—!” It felt like a nightmare that just wouldn’t end, sneezing his head off while the room just spun around him, Crowley’s grasp seeming to be the only thing that could keep him still.

A few more sneezes escaped before he finally went limp in defeat, face red once more and hands still clasped tight over his now dripping nose. His ears were ringing, but he knew Crowley was hissing some sort of profanity... What he didn’t expect was the other moving his hands away and wiping both those and his face with a soft cloth. Aziraphale couldn’t help but wince as the tender skin was brushed, but he also moaned softly, allowing Crowley to finish with such feather light touches.

“Couldn’t resist the fucking hellhound for two fucking minutes...” He heard the demon mutter with a light chuckle “Zira, what the fuck am I going to do with you?” With a light cough he looked blearily up at Crowley, still tucked against him, but still wearing that goofy smile from before “Is a bath... Still tempting..?” He rasped with a thick sniffle and moved to rub his eyes, though Crowley was quick to stop him “Don’t touch your face Angel, you’re gonna swell up faster than a pufferfish. Not that you aren’t already, but you won’t help matters.” That coaxed a chuckle out of the angel and soon Crowley was helping him out of bed to at least wash his face and hands in the bathroom.

At least Crowley had been down this allergy road long enough to know things like mortal medicines wouldn’t work and washing off the irritant would help, but it didn’t change the fact that none could really be prepared for it. It was just something that would have to run its course and hopefully leave with time, no matter how badly they may have each wanted to miracle this problem away. Which, “conveniently,” they couldn’t.

As he sat Aziraphale, and consequently Dog, by an open window in the plant room, a rather pressing question came to mind. If he was already this bad off, how were they going to make it through the weekend? Or even the rest of the day, considering it wasn’t even lunch time yet.

[Part 4]

[qobiin]

weekly fic rec hoard

here's what i've been enjoying reading (and re-reading) this past week for different fandoms across the board! this week features: atla, bnha, good omens, harry potter, marvel, naruto and stranger things  ♡ means: all-time fave, (m) means: 18+ themes 

avatar: the last airbender

♡ first rule of earth kingdom fight club... series by ohmygodwhy  zuko, his stubborn inability to die, and finding himself thru getting his ass kicked 

The Most Ragged Edges by twinfinite  In hindsight, Zuko really should have seen this conversation coming. He can almost hear Li and Lo chanting wickedly about the magic of Ember Island, about waves smoothing away rough edges… 

♡ ribs by ohmygodwhy  The first thing Zuko tells him during their first lesson after the whole Sun Warrior ruins ordeal, is “Fire comes from the breath.” a lesson in learning, and re-learning. 

♡ see your son rising at last by aloneintherain  When Zuko dashes into the sitting room, it is with the same wide-eyed panic that he ran from Azula’s smoking hands when he was a child. Iroh bites down on a smile. Zuko looks the same, even now, a decade later with a scar blossomed over one side of his face, green and brown robes replacing the solitary reds of his childhood. His hair is puffed up around his face. He looks like a very frightened, very windswept turtle-dove. Zuko dives behind Iroh just as Aang breezes to a stop in the doorway. Five times Zuko hid behind Iroh, plus one time Zuko stood proudly in front of him.

♡ the beginning of a new and brighter birth by aloneintherain  “I’m so proud of you, my nephew.” Uncle cups Zuko’s face in his lined hand. The gesture is so tender, his palm so warm, that Zuko has to take a fortifying breath against the sudden swell of emotion in his chest. “I want to be a good leader, Uncle,” Zuko says. “I want to look after my people.” “You will,” Uncle says. “You are, nephew.” In a new era of peace, Zuko works to be a very different Fire Lord than his forefathers.

boku no hero academia 

the stars are floating and we are flying by lunalou  Aizawa starts walking towards the exit, obviously expecting Shouto to follow him, but Shouto's feet are frozen in place. His eyes flicker from the distorted reflection of himself in the ice to where All Might is giving him a long look, eyes kinder than anything Todoroki has ever been deserving of, and he feels sick.  “Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya says gently, squeezing his arm in what Shouto presumes is meant to be a reassuring gesture. “It’s going to be okay.” He doesn’t think Midoriya is in any place to tell him what okay is, all things considered, but he chooses to keep quiet on the matter. 

♡ I’ll share this with you, so leave it behind by yabakuboi  For the sake of the story, All Might is never in need of a successor, and, when Izuku saves Katsuki from the sludge monster, encourages young Midoriya down a different path. Thus, Katsuki and Izuku part ways after junior high, as Katsuki enters U.A. and the Midoriyas move overseas. It’s later that Katsuki realizes that there’s something missing, that he drove that something away. Years after, Katsuki finds him in the last place he looks, in the cereal aisle at the local grocery store of their childhood neighborhood. 

Loose lips Sail ships by Yousayhun  Bakugou is at war with his own fucking mouth and everyone else just seems to be having the time of their lives. 

♡ flare guns go off in my head saying not to call you this late by youreanovelidea  Midoriya beams at him and Tokoyami is suddenly hit with the urge to look away. “So bright,” he mutters under his breath, low enough that Midoriya can’t hear him.  (or, Midoriya is a problem child who just really loves his friends) 

(m) The Devil Blues by iknewaman  The 78th precinct's police captain, Toshinori Yagi, has volunteerd his squad to help implement the mayor's wish of increasing the successful cooperation between the city police and active Pro-Heroes. Each detective is to be assigned a Pro-Hero who will shadow them for two weeks, and the operation has been dubbed the 'Station Cooperation Operation'. Although it is not well-received by those involved, Izuku Midoriya, current detective at the 78th precinct and loyal follower of captain Toshinori's ideals, believes that the operation will be a success. If his captain says it will succeed, there isn't a doubt in Izuku's mind that it will. That is until he meets his assigned Pro-Hero. 

♡ someone is wrong on the internet by rhenna  It’s been a long day. By all rights, Izuku should be falling into bed, half dead. But instead of sleeping, he’s hunched over his laptop at 2 in the morning writing a dissertation about why exactly Ground Zero’s pecs are the best pecs to ever pec, and how dare anyone insinuate that he should lose some of that muscle because don’t you even understand what kind of physique a quirk like that requires? Amateurs.  (Izuku has two jobs in this world: pro-hero and anonymous president of the Ground Zero fan club. What could possibly go wrong?) 

good omens

♡ Divine Intervention (aka God ships it) by TheLadyZepher  There’s a battle strategy devised by humans many millennia ago that's designed to overcome an adversary who is particularly well entrenched. Some walls are too tall and thick for a frontal assault, and must instead be bested through sheer dogged stubbornness. Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t know it, but they were about to be put under siege.  Fed up with an angel and a demon who are still avoiding any talk of Feelings, God starts to interfere. When it comes to the ineffable plan, sometimes things need a bit of a push. 

♡ Slow by write_away  It started like this: A boy with the ability to warp reality met an angel and a demon and he made assumptions.  You might say it started like this: An angel and a demon found a marriage contract hung on the wall of the angel's bookshop. They didn't question it. It also could have started like this: Once upon a time, the angel told the demon he went too fast. The demon took it to heart.  Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves somehow married. Crowley fears going too fast. Aziraphale forges ahead. Neither know how to ask questions of each other. 

♡ Eziraphael’s Gifts: A History of Queer Faith and Longing, by Natasha Marie Johnson (Beacon Press, 2019). by actualbat  "If Eziraphael has come to be known--in today's language--as the 'guardian angel of sad queers,' then it makes sense for him to have shown up more regularly in the past once that became a recognizable historical category." Natasha is really glad that she's given this talk enough times to be able to do it on autopilot, because those two funny-looking men in the back just made the most absurdly astonished faces. (Or: Not all historians ignore gay subtext, and not all immortal celestial beings have their shit together. Also, voodoo.) 

harry potter 

♡ Apple Slices and Cocoa by FeathersMcStrange  Harry Potter is an abused kid with not an adult in the world on his side when Molly Weasley meets him.  She decides right then and there that if nobody else is going to try and take care of this boy, then dammit, she's going to. 

hello goodbye (’twas nice to know you) by tamerofdarkstars  Draco Malfoy thinks he might know whose thoughts are scrawling themselves on his skin, but that's crazy. Impossible, even. It has to be a mistake.  -  Self-indulgent soulmate AU where the thoughts of your soulmate inscribe themselves on your skin in a shifting magic tattoo 

♡ (m) Men Who Love Dragons Too Much by fencer_x, IDoodleForNoodles  ‘Kill Albus Dumbledore’ is less a challenging task and more a suicide mission, so when Draco Malfoy is presented with the option to either dispatch his Headmaster or suffer an excruciating and most ignominious death of his own, along with his parents, he reaches deep into his black little Slytherin heart and manages to scrape together enough courage to go with option C instead: Spend Sixth Year secretly studying Animagecraft in the hopes he’ll turn into something sufficiently imposing even the Dark Lord himself won’t be able to keep Draco under his thumb. But just his luck, his Animagus form turns out to be a dragon, and a rather randy juvenile at that, intent on finding its mate: one Harry James Potter. 

marvel 

♡ Hard to Love by Gruoch  If someone had told May that Iron Man himself would one day occasionally show up uninvited to her quiet little apartment and intrude into her quiet little life, she would have laughed them out of the room. But then her life seems chock-full of unpleasant surprises these days.  Or, Tony Stark wants a bigger piece of the pie. May Parker learns to accept help. Peter just wants to keep the peace. 

♡ Mr. Parker Declined to Comment by apisdn  The events leading up to the embarrassing moments during the Doomed Field trip, and how Peter Parker accidentally ended up in charge of things. All the while the political machine moves on, the Avengers do not kiss and make up, and the future draws ever closer. 

Another No-Good Field Trip by Muimor  Peter Parker is not having a good day. AKA, Where Peter's decathlon team take a field trip to the Avengers Compound, Vision's a menace, and Peter really doesn't want to go.

naruto 

(m) Resonance by flailinginlove  After being hit by a missing-nin's jutsu, Kakashi's chakra is never the same again. 

♡ (m) What Otter Nonsense by DarkAuroran  “Is that an otter?” Iruka asks as large, sable eyes blink at him and a little whiskered nose twitches curiously. “That’s an otter. Why do you have an otter?”  “I can’t tell you,” Kakashi says with a great amount of dignity for a man cradling a baby otter in armoured gloves. “Classified Jounin mission business.”

♡ Learning Curve by ishiryoku  This is the life she chose: the path of the shinobi. It's either roll with the punches or be left behind by her team—and Sakura's not about to let them go off on their own. 

♡ Roots and Wings by ideaoforder  When Naruto is kidnapped from his orphanage at age three, Kakashi is so done with this shit. He gets Naruto back, tells the Hokage where to go (politely, because he isn't suicidal), and raises the boy himself. Or, you know, tries and is proud when there aren't too many explosions. Then everybody starts to copy him and it's a whole thing. 

stranger things

In Which Starcourt Is a Pun by asexual-fandom-queen (writeordietrying)  “Welcome to Scoops Ahoy. Do you know what you want?”  Nancy and Jonathan visit the Starcourt Mall and corner Steve at his place of work with their feelings, but in an awkward, this-is-still-the-1980s-so-we-can't-be-too-direct kind of way. 

♡ my father comes and he goes by mjolnirbreaker  So, for Max, he doesn’t punch Billy Fucking Hargrove. He just sits there in sweltering heat and listens to the C’s being announced, and when parents cheer for their kids he tries not to think about how his parents are currently in Colorado. 

♡ it’s a risk, it’s a gamble by nondz (pinkjook)  “I think we should pretend to date,” Robin says. "What?" Steve answers. 

one of those new wave boys by glorious_spoon  It probably should feel more awkward than it does. (Or: Steve and Robin go on a road-trip, drink, listen to music, and look after each other. And yeah, maybe there's some cuddling involved too.)

wanna rec me something? head over to my ask or submission boxes! message me even, i don't really mind (: 

and to all my fellow authors who may feel a little down about not getting onto rec lists, this is for you: