#cursed jockey

[thesheepbroadcast]

Spider Jockeys were bad enough! 😱

like and sub pls thanks ♥️

Did you know I have a TikTok as well? You can watch my Shorts on there too! o3o https://tiktok.com/@sheepbroadcast

#youtube shorts #vertical #minecraft #jockey #bee jockey #spider jockey #cursed jockey #baby zombie #to be continued meme #zombie bee #reddit #minecraft shorts #tiktok #tiktok memes #minecraft memes #minecraft tiktok #thesheepbroadcast #funny #video

[myflooricecreamguy]

NEW GAME OF THE YEAR JUST DROPPED

#POCKET CARD JOCKEY #horse games #horse curse #FUCK YEAH POCKET CARD JOCKEY

[mx-lamour]

27 - Consort

The Vistani had a story, of a boy with sticky fingers who had been caught in the act of procuring an artifact of magnificent value and was sentenced to the cruel dungeons within Castle Ravenloft. He had made a daring escape—a feat which no other man could claim—and lived to tell the tale. Each encampment had its own retelling of the story, every one with its own colorful embellishments, but no two were alike. There seemed little truth in their depictions, either of the nature of this fabulous treasure or the cunning Vistana’s method of escape.

A short lithe woman hiding in the trees let out a long belabored sigh, punctuated with a heavy dose of vocal fry. She had been tracking this ridiculous story for weeks, trying to suss out a plan for what she assumed would be a winning score. Riches beyond her wildest dreams—of course it would be cockamamie. It might have made more sense to nip what gold she could off the Vistani themselves. They were not rich, but they had showy enough trinkets to compensate.

The small woman jumped down gracefully from her perch. She looked down at her hands and curled her lip. Tried to brush the sap onto her black-clad thighs to no avail. Spat impatiently to wash it. When that didn’t fully work, she squatted on the forest floor and held out both her hands in fists, and breathed a high-pitched whine into her knees.

She sprang back up. Whatever. The way out of Castle Ravenloft did not matter until she knew she could get in and through. First of all, the castle was surrounded by a poison fog. If the Vistani were good for anything, it was moving through such barriers. They had a potion. She would take that.

When night cast its dark cloak over the valley, the woman crept up to the circle of decorative round-topped wagons. She spared a scrutinizing glance at the horses, which paid her no heed, and diverted in her path to one whose golden coat shone like silk even in the sparse light of the moon. She stroked its proud neck and checked its teeth.

The woman put her fist up to her own mouth and bit her knuckle. She bounced frantically on the balls of her feet. She would not need a horse where she was going, maybe, but the temptation was appalling. Nope. Not this run, doll; not yet. She would leave it here. For now. And then, when they had sold it, she would take it from some poncy nobleman instead. Silly nincompoops.

She ducked back onto her intended course, sidling her way up to a wagon to peer in through its window. A wrinkled face stared back at her. The thief scrunched up her nose.

The ancient woman in the wagon gestured with her hand in solemn welcome, bidding her to come inside. The thief glanced over her shoulder at the woods behind. She shook her head, blunt midnight hair rustling around her face. The old Vistana simply turned and moved beyond her view.

Well, now she had to go. Vibrating, she was, with curiosity. Like a cat, she slunk around the wagon to the small door at the back. She flicked the handle—no magic traps—and twisted it. The door came open easily. She stepped inside.

“Volenta Popofsky,” the old woman greeted her in a voice that crackled like bird bones.

“How the fuck do you know my name?”

The old woman snorted softly. “I know many things. You have come here for a potion. I can offer this to you. If you wish, I will tell you the result of your endeavor.”

Volenta squinted. “Why?”

“If you do not want the reading, I will not give it.” The old woman reached into the folds of her thick shawl and produced a small bottle, setting it onto the table between them. “Here. The potion is yours, but this is all you take from me and mine.”

Volenta glanced at the window.

“It is a beautiful horse, but you will not need it. Please, be welcome. Sit.”

She stared long and hard at the old woman, who met her gaze with uncanny intensity. To cover for the shudder in her spine, Volenta sharply cracked her neck. “Fine,” she moped, and flopped down on the cushioned stool which had been set out for her.

The Vistana gestured to a stack of handmade cards. “Shuffle the deck as you see fit, and draw one card.”

Volenta only cut the deck in half and drew one from the middle: Thief. She bristled.

“Good. Draw another, and place it to the left of this one.”

Volenta spread the cards around the table and then mushed them back together. The thief was lost in the shuffle. She had to go looking for it again. The next was Marionette.

“This is your past. But you will find no strings here in Barovia except those which you would tie yourself. Place the next card to the north. This will be what you seek.”

“I already know what I seek.”

“Then this card will not be a surprise.”

Volenta rolled her eyes and puffed a breath which ruffled up her bangs. She cut the deck and shuffled it properly, riffling and bridging the awkward cards with practiced ease. The Artifact: its title sounded good, in theory, but the image on the card was less than ideal. Five spindly metal legs propped up a jar, which held only a skull. On closer inspection, the skull had been painted, maybe, and it had no teeth aside from two pointed little things. There was no lower jaw. Volenta was no small fan of bones, but this was no great treasure.

“Artifacts are made,” said the Vistana, “not always from rich materials, but of rich experience.”

Volenta pulled another card, but her hand slipped, thinking about private market values. She hated the private sector. It was tedious. Hard material wealth was more reliable. Two cards emerged from the deck together: the Darklord and the Soldier. She placed them to the right.

The old woman nodded gravely. “You will be caught. This is your future.”

“The hell I will. Who are these guys?”

A wrinkled hand pointed toward the deck. “Draw one more, and you will have your answer.”

Transmuter was the card Volenta drew. She slapped it down into the south position.

“The Artifact may be what you seek,” the old Vistana said, “but this is what you will find.”

Volenta’s eyes lit up. A wild grin spread across her face. Oh, but this was better than what she had imagined. Her mind swiftly was bombarded by gilded thoughts of alchemy, of turning mundane matter into gold. Her fingers twitched with glee. So what if she got caught? Perhaps she, like the Vistani boy of legend, could escape—and leave not empty-handed, but riding swiftly on the backs of wealth and immortality.

Whoever these two figures were, the Darklord and the Soldier, she could not wait to meet them.

* * * [Ao3 Collection] [prompt list by @syrips]

#vampentine's 2024 #volenta popofsky #madam eva #vistani #curse of strahd #brides of strahd #lamour dms cos #alchemy #tarokka reading #honorable mention to her weird little bone mask #she finds that later and uses it as a disguise #volenta is a horse girl now apparently #tiny jockey woman #piddlewick ii becomes her bff #she is small but she's like 40

[toonfinatic]

People calling men that are barely below average height "short kings" are WEAK and will not survive the winter much less any season... instead start calling men under 5 foot short kings or die by my blade!!!!!

#it DOES bug me when people see a man whos like 5'4 and are like awww tiny baby short king uwu #first of all its infantalizing and makes you look like a fool. second of all. thats nothing #you havent seen anything #!!! #lighthearted post #but honestly like. im semi feminine presenting and afab. and people are such asshats to me about my height #its either them acting like im an innocent uwu bean and then being shocked when i mention sex or curse or live like a normal adult #or its just constant super weird remarks about my body. OOO YOUR HANDS ARE SO TINY!! yeah might be because my Whole Body is Like That #the WORST is people PICKING ME UP? which will result in a kick. you dont get to lift people you barely know into the air #honestly all the shit ive gotten about my height has made me really snarky about the whole subject #if you make a rude comment about it i will make one back! #but like idk being short makes me pretty athletic so. i can at times traverse difficult terrain when others cant >:) #if i could afford it i could take up jockeying and be the fucking best at it because horse can run real fast because im tiny #apparently climbing is surprisingly a lot easier for short people as well

[vidavalor]

The *Original* Original Sin Theory or... why Aziraphale's "I forgive you"s really mean "forgive me" and just why he wants Crowley's absolution...

Will this break your heart in a good way and make the end of S2 hurt less? more? both? idk let's find out...

I want to talk about what the Before the Beginning scene does to the Eden scene and what all that suggests about Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship... because it might be enough to upend what we think this relationship is quite a bit, at least from Aziraphale's POV, if it goes in the direction that I think they are hinting at in S3, which I'm basing off of where they took it in S2 in these scenes.

This also contains an analysis of That Scene from 2.06 that ties into lots of other scenes and some other meta related to the show and it's a bit long-- like, the mother of all metas-- but there are pretty gifs and I brought snacks? Just letting you know it's a long post but tuck in with some tea if you're in the mood and thanks for reading. :)

Under the big cutty thing...

Before we get started, a couple of quick warnings: I curse a bit in here. It's in the show itself but just letting you know it's here a bit, too. I also mention *very* briefly suicide ideation in the characters and also very briefly (one sentence) Satan's mind-control of Crowley in S1 in a way that might be sensitive for a sexual assault survivor. There is general mention of religious trauma and abusive relationships (not Crowley & Aziraphale's relationship) all over this. If you are okay with the show, you should be more than fine reading this but just wanted to let you know up front. If you're okay with that, read on...

So, the Before the Beginning scene contains a twist, in that we learn that pre-Fall Crowley is naive to Heaven while Aziraphale is the one who is wary of it. This is especially interesting because, best we can tell, no angel has Fallen yet. There aren't *explicit* consequences for asking questions yet, as Crowley doesn't think it could get him into trouble to do so... but *Aziraphale* does. Heaven in S1 and S2 is shown to be basically a fascist state full of bullies jockeying for power where the ones on top dole out all sorts of abuses to maintain a sense of order among the rank and file. We see the emotional and even physical abuse they dole out to Aziraphale and how little they tolerate any sort of dissent, even from an archangel, based on what they ultimately do when Gabriel doesn't want to do arma-bloody-geddon anymore. Heaven is basically The Kremlin. Toe out of line and they'll toss you off a high-rise while telling everyone how sad it is that you recently had a spell of depression and heart troubles as a way of scaring everyone else into submission, right? What's surprising to us is that Aziraphale knows this *absolutely* Before the Beginning and he's terrified on Crowley's behalf, since this place functions as a kind of mafia state.

This implies something really kind of dark which is that Aziraphale knows enough to know how to toe a party line and keep quiet about any doubts he has. He knows how to survive in a way that then-innocent Crowley did not. He tries to tell Crowley that questioning things is going to get him angel-killed but Crowley has a faith in God that's different than Aziraphale's was even before the Earth was fully created. Crowley believed in Her more than Aziraphale does. He doesn't think anything will happen to him. Aziraphale knows what will and this implies knowledge of the abuse of the system and it completely changes our perspective of Aziraphale throughout the rest of the series. We often think of him as either willfully naive or just desperately optimistic regarding Heaven's goodness but, in reality, he's neither of those things. He's something else, entirely. His actions are not expressing naivete or desperate optimism or anything else.

They are expressions of guilt.

And the Eden scene tells us why he has that guilt.

The Eden scene introduces us to Crowley and Aziraphale and the series itself and it has Crowley posit the central question of the show regarding the nature of angels and demons:

Objectively, when you watch this scene, you think this is about the tempting of Eve and the flaming sword. It is... but it's also not *just* about that. Because Crowley and Aziraphale are watching Adam & Eve venture off beyond the Garden of Eden in this scene. They're still within view so the flaming sword situation happened a matter of minutes earlier. Yet, when Crowley posits that central question of which one of them actually did the good thing and which did the bad thing, Aziraphale reveals that it wouldn't be funny at all if what Crowley is saying (that Aziraphale actually did the bad thing) is true. He's distressed about it and so Crowley, somewhat dryly, reassures him that he's an angel so he couldn't have done the wrong thing. (Crowley, of course, being a literal former angel punished for doing the wrong thing lol and that being the joke but also in there is also the layer of Crowley genuinely liking Aziraphale and trying to tell him that it's all okay and meaning it.) Aziraphale is relieved and this is the key bit here-- he says oh good "because it's been bothering me."

The tone of this is that this central question of whether or not he did wrong or right by Crowley and whether or not Crowley was wrong or right in his actions *has been bothering* Aziraphale and he phrases it in a way that implies he's been losing angelic sleep (so to speak) about it for a little while now. If this was *just about Adam and Eve* then Aziraphale's reaction here makes absolutely no sense because the camera also then cuts in their conversation to in front of Crowley and Aziraphale *to show us Adam and Eve still visible in the near-distance* fighting off the lion with the flaming sword. They literally *just left* so how could Aziraphale be all in knots for awhile now over whether or not he made the wrong call? He's not. You can argue that his decision here in Eden to help Adam and Eve by giving them his flaming sword-- by standing up and doing something in the face of God to help out other beings he secretly thinks might have been treated unfairly-- *is a direct response to what he failed to do back in Before the Beginning*...

... which was to stand up for Crowley.

Meaning: Aziraphale doesn't need to see Heaven's files to find out what happened to Crowley when Crowley fell because he was there. S3 is going to be about preventing the Second Coming and so plot allusions to the crucification (which had its own Crowley & Aziraphale scene in S1) will likely abound. Aziraphale was there when Lucifer and The Gang were tossed out of Heaven. To be fair to Aziraphale, there is basically nothing he could have done to prevent this and the best possible situation is that he didn't even have the chance to. The worst possible situation is that he's literally Judas and sold Crowley out, out of fear of being tossed out of Heaven himself. I tend to think it's more that he just didn't stand up and say anything in support of Crowley to prevent himself from being seen as on the side of the eventual demons. Still, just as Crowley thinks the punishment for Adam and Eve was harsh, Aziraphale thought that asking questions and being curious wasn't enough to send Lucifer and everyone around him to Hell to be damned for all of eternity but it caused an obvious existential crisis in him that he still struggles to totally resolve.

If he disagreed with the decision to cast out the suggestion box-happy angels, he was as "bad" as they were. If he agreed with the decision, he was condemning them and that didn't seem angelic, either. How to be a good angel, which is the only thing he had ever tried to be or knew how to be? He did what he thought must be right-- to follow what the other, more powerful angels said the word of God was-- and if it was Her will, then it must be what was right, even if it was *extremely difficult* to see how this lovebug here was really an evil, demonic creature of Hell...

Not to mention that Aziraphale was in love with WhateverHeWasCalledPre-Crawly!Crowley. (We will just call him "Crowley" for this whole meta, because that is the name he chose for himself.) And maybe Angel!Crowley went after the more glamorous, daring guys. Heaven honestly seems like both a fascist state and high school at once (is there really a difference? lol). Crowley describes how he wound up falling in S1 as that he "hung out with the wrong crowd" and Aziraphale in Before the Beginning honestly seems like he's been flying around watching Crowley make stars for ages, trying to work up the nerve to or find an opportunity to introduce himself to the beautiful hot cool arty science-y guy who barely looks at him when his other option for a view are nebulas... or Benedict Cumberbatch's Lucifer/Satan, whose "stroke of demonic genius, dahling" bit in S1 and dark assault on his fave Crowley while Crowley was driving had a real "Angel!Crowley went for the bad boy who were so bad pre-Fall that they wound up fucking Satan afterwards and friend-zoned angels like Aziraphale" vibes. Alternatively, maybe he didn't totally? Before the Beginning seems to be the first time they met and maybe after that, Crowley and Aziraphale became close. It's just that Crowley canonically also wound up sitting at the cool kids' table because they were the only ones questioning things and he wound up damned for eternity for it and Aziraphale?

Aziraphale blames himself for it.

He has blamed himself for Crowley's Fall for six thousand years.

When they speak in Eden, Aziraphale is being confronted for the first time with what has come of his nebula-joyous, freshly baked blueberry muffin of an angel. He calls himself "Crawly" now-- or that's the name he's been given-- because who he was is dead. His eyes are yellow. He's now a snake. He's maybe a bit sarcastic, a bit dry, and a lot more guarded and aloof but Aziraphale sees flickers of Angel!Crowley in there. He's *kind* to Aziraphale. He's still inquisitive, in spite of it being what damned him to Hell. Aziraphale, God help him, is still wildly into him and, ugh, maybe even *more* so, in spite of everything.

And 'everything', for Aziraphale, includes Crowley being a demon being Aziraphale's fault.

They don't talk about it. Ever.

They don't talk about it because Aziraphale thinks that Crowley doesn't remember. Crowley's memory loss of a lot of his time pre-Fall is canon in S2-- something we, the audience, will need to understand the whole picture when/if we end up getting this revelation in S3 of Crowley's Fall and that Aziraphale feels he's at least partially responsible. What's even harder for Aziraphale is that because Crowley doesn't remember his time as an angel, he doesn't remember their full history together. He doesn't remember how they met and protecting Aziraphale from the first celestial shower and all the times they chatted after that and if they were in love back then, Crowley doesn't remember it. Eden then becomes, to Crowley, the first time they meet... but then look at how while Aziraphale seems to think that Crowley doesn't know him while Aziraphale knows Crowley-- the moment that he pauses so Crowley can introduce himself-- *Crowley* seems a little bemused. Why?

Because what Aziraphale has failed to consider is that the one memory that the demons are allowed to keep, most likely, is their Fall, which means that if Aziraphale was there when Crowley fell, Crowley actually *does* remember him. At minimum, he remembers Aziraphale being there and looking stricken by what was happening so even if he can't remember more than that, he knows he's safe with Aziraphale and that Aziraphale cared about him, which would explain why he risked going to talk to with him on the wall in Eden. He knows they were friends and that Aziraphale is good and he can trust him. It's also theoretically possible that if Crowley remembers his Fall and if Aziraphale was there, it's a trigger to him being able to remember all of his and Aziraphale's time before Crowley fell. Aziraphale might not know this and because these two idiots do not know how to talk-- and especially don't talk about this-- Crowley hasn't told him. In part because Crowley can't go back and he doesn't want them to dwell on Angel!Crowley when Crowley is who he is and if that's a demon, it's a demon, and the whole system can go fuck itself anyway, as far as Crowley's concerned.

Aziraphale, though, is still back on "it's my fault". He thinks he literally took goodness from the world; that he participated in the murder of his friend and the love of his life. He has never. In six. thousand. years. lol. told Crowley that he feels like this because he still thinks that Crowley doesn't remember Aziraphale betraying him and he is terrified that if he told Crowley he did-- if he told him that he was responsible, in part, for his Fall-- that Crowley would hate him and Crowley is Aziraphale's only friend in the universe and Aziraphale is madly in love with him. He couldn't bear the loss of him. He can handle their occasional spats and disagreements, knowing that Crowley always comes back, but this? If Crowley knew that his Fall was Aziraphale's fault? Aziraphale thinks Crowley wouldn't come back from that and he'd never see him again.

In reality? Crowley either already knows this and has the whole time or suspects it or if he found it out, would forgive Aziraphale for it. If he knows, he already has. His counter-argument is, like, what were you supposed to do to save me, exactly, angel? You alone versus all the hierarchy of Heaven and God Herself? I'm *glad* you didn't do something stupid and get yourself tossed into a pit of boiling sulphur. You don't deserve that.

Thing is, though, because they've never had this conversation because they DO NOT TALK lol, Aziraphale thinks he *does* deserve that. But look at what's happened since he made the decision not to save Crowley from falling...

...nothing.

Nothing has happened to Aziraphale. He didn't fall for it himself. He didn't fall for betraying the angel he loved and he wonders every. single. day. why he didn't and the only thing he can come up with is that he must have done the right thing. *It must be* that Crowley did the bad thing and Aziraphale did the good one because Crowley was damned to Hell for all of eternity and Aziraphale is still an angel of Heaven, six thousand years later. It's not for Aziraphale to question God. Her will is ineffable. It's ineffable because he cannot begin to understand how any of this can possibly be just and that just keeps happening over and over and over and over throughout the years to come in every situation he and Crowley find themselves in, from Job to The Flood to Wee Morag and Elspeth to Arma-bloody-geddon, right?

Aziraphale begins to lose count of how many times he's gone up against God at this point. Gives away his flaming sword to Adam and Eve. Saves as many as he could during The Flood-- *with* Crowley. (You know they did.) Lies to Gabriel's face in the eyes of God to save Job and Sitis' children... and learning that Falling was political, really, in the process. Nothing happened to Aziraphale for Job's kids. He suffered no consequence for lying to Heaven and God because Crowley was willing to lie for him-- to protect him from Falling, where Aziraphale couldn't protect Crowley himself ages before-- and nothing happened. Falling, suddenly, didn't seem totally God-ordained it it could be tossed aside by something as simple as having a demon just choose not to toss you to Satan. Crowley didn't take him to Hell because he didn't feel like Aziraphale belonged there. It wound up all entirely within Crowley's control, which then made Aziraphale begin to question if God was even really behind the Fall of Lucifer and the Gang or if it wasn't just the thugs in charge of Heaven who decided to toss them out... thoughts he was terrified to think and didn't dare voice aloud, at least not then.

In another era, Aziraphale and Crowley stood there together to witness the torture and murder of Jesus Christ in the name of God, in a parallel to the Fall. What happened to Jesus? He was betrayed by his closest friend, then tortured and murdered by those in the government who thought he posed a threat to social order. Heaven as Pontius Pilate. Aziraphale as a kind of Judas, in Aziraphale's mind, anyway.

Jesus as Crowley.

Time goes on and he and The Demon Crowley form friendship in their own right, regardless of what Crowley might remember from before his Fall. They form their Arrangement off of that and Aziraphale learns even more that, often, no one is really paying attention to what they do. That no one seems to notice if Crowley performs an angelic miracle or if Aziraphale performs what has become termed a 'demonic miracle'... because, really, *they're the same*, though that's not something Aziraphale can fully admit. He cannot allow himself to believe that demons *are angels* because if there's nothing different between demons and angels than Aziraphale doesn't know anything at all.

Anything at all... He doesn't know what being an angel *is* and it's what he supposedly is so it means he doesn't know who or what he is, really.

He doesn't know what God wants or if he truly believes in Her.

He doesn't know what the purpose of all of this is-- why Crowley had to suffer, why demons in general have to, why the *humans* do. Why it all has to be destroyed eventually. To what end?

Aziraphale has the same questions Crowley does and sometimes, late at night, often a little drunk, he'll dare to ask them with Crowley, and every morning that he still wakes up and sobers up and finds himself still an angel when Crowley Fell for so much less than Aziraphale has ever thought or done, he wonders just *why?*

Why is he still an angel when he, really, is no different from Crowley? Why Crowley is damned? Punished for all of eternity for curiosity and innovation and imagination, while Aziraphale is still an angel, doomed to only have until the clock runs out on Armageddon before losing him for the rest of fucking *eternity* but, until then, stuck suffering watching him suffer while remaining an angel? Is being an angel at this point, really, his punishment for failing the apparently foul fiend he adores?

Does Aziraphale ever have any answers to these questions? Good God, no lol. He's six thousand years into this and he's in the same spot as Amnesiac!ArchangelFuckingGabriel in 2.01:

...would be okay if you could just be one near particular person?

Of course Aziraphale knows what this feels like. Of course. We know he does. And that's why he hasn't been able to make a real move in six thousand years-- because it's his fault, as far as he's concerned.

Crowley's damnation is his fault. Crowley cannot really love him, or couldn't if he knew. Not because he's a demon, though Aziraphale might have thought that at one point but he definitely was cured of it by events in 1941. The more time that goes by, the more Aziraphale knows that Crowley loves him-- that he's *in* love with him-- and the worse it all gets for Aziraphale because every day that he hasn't told Crowley that he didn't prevent him from Falling is another day within the last *six thousand years* of them falling in love and the betrayal seems to get worse and worse to Aziraphale. The time to have this conversation was on the wall in Eden and it still hasn't happened. Still, over time, he starts to realize that Crowley, if ever knew, would forgive him.

Because his Crowley has the kindest of hearts. He really does, and that wasn't taken from him when he Fell and Aziraphale finds every opportunity he can to delight in seeing that and making Crowley reveal it.

It goes against everything Aziraphale is supposed to believe.

Demons are not supposed to be good-- if they were, they wouldn't have Fallen. Yet, Aziraphale knows Crowley is. He never has truly believed that Crowley isn't-- even when he could have, at least at the start. He worried, maybe, that he had helped create a monster out of the most lovely being he'd ever known but Crowley just kept proving him wrong about that, time and time again. *Crowley* doesn't believe it about himself, really, because that's his own trauma from his Fall but Aziraphale believes it about him and that's often good enough for Crowley.

But, really, this is why they still haven't gotten together in six thousand years. This is why Aziraphale seems like he can never get beyond "I'm an angel and you're a demon", no matter what Crowley does or how he proves that there are shades of gray and also, that the entire system is bullshit. It is not that Aziraphale doesn't *know* that it's bullshit-- it's that if he admits that it is, if he stops believing in Heaven (even if he doesn't stop believing in God), then he's left with nothing but the crushing weight of guilt that he has for all the pain that Crowley has been through.

If he tells himself that Crowley Fell *for a reason* and that he (Aziraphale) was *right* to not interfere, to not try to thwart God, even if it would have likely failed, just on principle, to stand up for his friend... then Aziraphale doesn't have to deal with the fact that he made what he really considers to be a colossal mistake and that it has caused the continued pain and torture and eternal damnation of the being he considers his soulmate...

...which is why everytime that pain comes to the surface in something Crowley says or does, Aziraphale *cannot handle it at all whatsoever* and reverts to You'reADemonI'mAnAngel!Mode.

Example: Crowley's religious trauma on display in their bandstand argument:

Crowley owns this, even if he's still traumatized by it. He's saying it sarcastically, making a joke on a song Aziraphale probably barely knows, if he knows at all ("Unforgettable"-- Nat King Cole). Aziraphale *aches* at Crowley saying this-- because it reminds him that it's partially his own fault. And he can't. Do. Anything. About. It.

He's an all-powerful *angel* here but he can't change this for Crowley. He can't stop his suffering some six thousand years after his Fall. He's looking at sexy goth Crowley here and he's thinking about curly-haired, beaming, ball of light! Crowley and that they are *the same person* and Aziraphale *does* know that. He knows it and he loves him passionately and desperately and he is one of the most powerful beings ever in existence and he's standing there looking at the man-shaped-being he adores talking about how he still aches from the betrayal of his fellow angels and his mother God and *there is no way for Aziraphale to fix it* when he can mend broken bones and heal the sick and let their be light! all over the place. He can do proper magic and still, he cannot take away Crowley's pain.

This is Aziraphale's Hell. He didn't Fall but he's been in Hell anyway.

So when Crowley's religious trauma and pain comes out, usually in an argument like in the bandstand scene, Aziraphale does the only thing he thinks he *can* do, right? He's an angel. Still. Somehow. He's an angel and there must be some reason for that and an angel is not a demon-- an angel is a purer being, a healer-- and so he says "I forgive you". He doesn't mean it to be patronizing, even if it is. ("I am a *great deal* holier than thou," as he told Crowley at one point and that was the point, right?) He is trying to say "I am still of Heaven and if it's absolution you need, I can give it to you."

He is trying to say: You are not unforgivable to me.

The real lyric of the song Crowley parodies in the bandstand is what Aziraphale means, whether he knows that song or not...

Unforgettable/That's what you are...

*Crowley*, though, doesn't know about Aziraphale's inner turmoil because *heavy sigh* FFS TALK, YOU IDIOTS *breathes* lol, so *he* hears:

I still think I am better than you and you are Fallen, so you're not worthy of me. I can't love you, not the way you want. I love all beings because I'm an angel and I you know I'm in love with you but I can't *allow* myself to be because it goes against the nature of an angel and I've only done eleven thousand things that should have made me Fall over the years but letting myself be in love with you is the rubicon I won't cross, apparently...

Crowley knows by the time they're having the bandstand argument enough about Aziraphale's general religious trauma (not necessarily about how it pertains to Crowley's Fall but about it in general) to know that he spits out hateful garbage when he feels cornered and how to just call it bullshit and move on. ("I don't even like you."/"You doooo.") But he understandably walks away when Aziraphale pushes him away past a point he can handle-- and Aziraphale knows how to do that. He does it *intentionally.* The "I forgive you" is sadness because it's all he has to offer Crowley but he also knows it'll piss Crowley off enough to end the argument, so he says it intentionally to get Crowley to go away. In this scene (which parallels the end of S2 quite a bit, as many have noticed), Aziraphale is trying to deal with it all on his own, right?

He knows where the antichrist is. He's just not telling Crowley yet. He's trying to deal with it to keep him safe. He's doing it because he thinks he should-- that maybe, when it's something of this level of importance, that his job should be as an angel first, above his side with Crowley. (It's also worth mentioning here that Aziraphale is straight up terrified of Falling, not even just for being damned to Hell but because then, if he's no longer in Heaven, he has exactly zero power to even *try* to protect Crowley.) At the end of S2? With The Metatron?

Aziraphale does the same thing as with the antichrist for a time in S1, really.

The beginning of S2 shows us that Aziraphale has known that Heaven is North Korea since Before the Beginning so now marry that with its last scenes and see the arc that connects them-- Aziraphale does what he does out of guilt over what happened to Crowley to *protect* Crowley. He didn't want to do any of it without Crowley and when The Metatron finally offers that carrot, Aziraphale is suspicious as all hell (pardon the pun) and here we have this moment where part of him *wants* this to all be real, right?

Times change and sometimes, your parents who traumatized the living fuck out of you and didn't approve of your boyfriend, grow the hell up a bit and try to repent and mend fences. Maybe the trust is broken but maybe it can be healed and *as an angel*, Aziraphale is a being of goodness and hope and optimism. He's pure of heart, as Crowley put it to Nina. He *wants* that to be the case... but he also knows it likely is not.

Still... they can't run. There's nowhere that Heaven won't find them. It's no life for them-- no life for Crowley, in Aziraphale's mind, no matter how many times Crowley tries to get him to run away with him. "We can go off together!" begs Crowley, over and over, and Aziraphale's only really ever found that Crowley will only slither off if he's ticked off enough and only "I forgive you" ever really does that enough to work lol. He *means* I love you endlessly but you know this is impossible, you bloody maddening, gorgeous serpent! Will you stop reminding me of what we could have when it can never happen?! but that's not exactly how Crowley's taking it.

In the end, to Aziraphale, Aziraphale is an angel and Crowley is a demon and they are doomed to spend eternity apart and Aziraphale thinks he has no one to blame, really, but himself. If he had somehow saved Crowley six thousand years ago-- or had somehow been brave enough to stand up for him and Fallen alongside him-- they could have been together forever.

But he wasn't then and now The Metatron is here and it's time for Aziraphale to go back to Heaven and he knows, as he sits there drinking coffee with the being whose posse sent Crowley in a free fall into a pit of boiling sulphur, that Crowley will never, ever, ever, EVER go back to Heaven.

But he also knows that Heaven is here to collect Aziraphale and they are making it clear that there is no escape. There's nowhere to run. Everyday, it's been getting closer for six thousand years and going faster than a roller coaster for the last handful but a love like Beez and Gabe's will surely never come his and Crowley's way now.

It was always going to end like this. Nothing lasts forever. He told Crowley that, Before the Beginning. Six thousand years. That was all the time they had before the end of Earth, the place they'd come to call home. They found a way to borrow a few more years at the end of it since S1 and he got to dance with Crowley, their fingers brushing, and that is going to have to be enough because they're out of time.

The Metatron never needed say it directly but it was evident: they wanted Aziraphale to go to Heaven and they would say or do anything to get him up there and Aziraphale may have bought it for a moment but he's definitely figured out by the end of S2 that they need him up there not to become the Supreme Archangel but because his time as an angel is now over. The threat to Crowley is unspoken but omnipresent.

The Metatron makes it sound like he doesn't care if Crowley comes back up to Heaven with Aziraphale or not and he really doesn't and why would that be? Why would he be eager to have the two most troublesome beings in all of Heaven and Hell teaming up and getting in the way of his Second Coming plans, which he absolutely *knows* they won't support? Because they won't have jobs waiting for them up there. Crowley will not be restored to full angelic status.

They're going to kill them. Aziraphale knows it. He's known what Heaven is since Before the Beginning, even if he's been in denial about it for almost as long to try to assuage his own guilt over participating in it.

And it's a lot easier a goal for Heaven to accomplish if they separate them and just Aziraphale goes up to Heaven. If Aziraphale goes alone-- if he keeps Crowley from following-- then Crowley is not a threat to them if Aziraphale is gone.

They aren't as powerful apart.

Aziraphale knows that if Crowley comes to Heaven with him that they will kill him and Aziraphale thinks okay, this is it... this is my moment of redemption.

Six thousand years since Crowley Fell and I can finally make up for not saving him by saving him now.

I can go with The Metatron and let Heaven kill me and know that they will not threaten Crowley if they do because what they are threatened by is both of us together. One of us, alone, is less of a threat and the only problem here is that if I go... Crowley will follow me.

If I just go without telling him what The Metatron said and I don't come back right away, he'll go to Heaven, worried that something happened to me, and they'll kill him when he comes looking for me. He'll find out they've Book of Life'd me and do something stupid and my sacrifice to keep him safe will all be for nothing.

So what's our tortured angel to do?

Bandstand 2.0, right?

He's got to piss Crowley off enough that Crowley won't follow him.

He's got to piss Crowley off so much that Crowley *will never come back* and the worst part is that Aziraphale knows *exactly* how to do it.

He makes his own plans and if things get drastic enough, he'll blow up that damn halo, metaphorically-speaking this time. To save Crowley, he will break Crowley.

It's darkly romantic, really. He'll sacrifice himself for Crowley but to be sure that Crowley will be safe and not follow, he'll have to break his heart a bit first-- to further their misunderstandings in a season based on "I don't think your exactly is my exactly exactly"-level miscommunications.

So Aziraphale accepts The Metatron's offer and lets The Metatron think he completely believes that the offer is legit and maybe a part of him is still hoping that it is but he knows it's really not and that this is a suicide run. This is Aziraphale's Holy Water arc...

...and speaking of Holy Water... that arc from the perspective of this being Aziraphale's mentality... Crowley, tortured by Hell for what he did while with Aziraphale in 1827, then refusing to talk about it, showing up with a cane, sullen and depressed, asking Aziraphale for the one thing that would kill him and Aziraphale's unwillingness to understand that it wasn't completely suicide ideation on Crowley's part but as a way to *protect Aziraphale* and keep him safe. Crowley wanted what could kill a demon not to kill himself but to kill one that might come after Aziraphale. All Aziraphale could see, though, was Crowley's physical and emotional pain, that he could barely keep hidden in that era, and how Aziraphale couldn't make it better. All he could see was how he failed him and led him to this suffering. All he could see in a note begging for "holy water" was Crowley wanting a suicide pill, wanting to destroy himself, unable to take any more, in so much pain that he'd leave Aziraphale forever to make it stop. Aziraphale is blinded entirely by guilt and fails to see what Crowley is really saying, which was, ironically, the last time Crowley began to try to tell Aziraphale how he felt, which was:

I've been thinking-- what if it all goes wrong? (What if I lose you? I'm terrified of losing you. I love you. I wake up from nightmares of you being destroyed by the demons who just spent a couple of decades after 1827 not that long ago torturing me. I didn't know for sure if you were still alive during any of it.) We have a lot in common, you and me. (We're a team. A... group of the two of us.) What if it all goes pear-shaped? I need you to get me the magical demon-killing stuff so I have a weapon against *my own fellow fallen angels* that I can use in case they come after us. I would kill another demon and send every legion of Hell after me to protect you.

Aziraphale: I like pears.

(My God, they are so stupid. Please. I can't take any more lol.)

So, yeah... it's Aziraphale's turn for the holy water suicide run here only with an actual suicide run...

It takes the books in The Blitz for Aziraphale to really understand what Crowley was asking for and what he meant by asking for holy water and by 1967, he gives Crowley the holy water, in the one moment when *they actually talk*, as much as they can, about how much they love one another, that exists prior to the end of its parallel-- the end of S2.

So, yeah, Aziraphale "goes to tell his friend the good news" with a look on his face like he's marching to his death *because he is* and he knows it. His last moments with Crowley, in some of his last moments in existence, he already knows will be spent upsetting the man-shaped being he loves. He's got it all planned out. Not exactly the picnic of his dreams but it'll redeem him and save Crowley and that's all that matters to Aziraphale in this moment.

He will sound naive to the threat of Heaven and because Crowley doesn't remember pre-Fall, he won't remember how Aziraphale warned him against taking on the brass in Heaven so Crowley won't be suspicious, he'll be *frustrated*, like he was in the bandstand. He'll get angry. Aziraphale's goal is to get him to storm out-- but it has to be a really, really, bad relationship-ending storming out.

He can't come back after he drives The Bentley around the block like he did back in 2.01 and say "okay, fine, I'll help you" and Aziraphale knows that if he plays this right, he can make it so Crowley won't because helping Gabriel was one thing but asking Crowley to become an angel with him and pretending like they can go fix the broken system of Heaven is going to be Crowley's bridge too far. It's *the only thing* that Aziraphale believes is Crowley's bridge too far where Aziraphale is concerned and isn't that heartbreaking as hell? That Crowley loves him this much? And they never got to be together the way they wanted? That they were just beginning to get close to trying to figure that out?

That, hours ago, Aziraphale was asking him to dance and trying to ignore the signs of trouble around the corner, desperately wanting more time with him? That they are semi-immortal beings that always somehow seem to be out of time?

Truer words have never been spoken, Crowley. Little did you know, poor demon...

So Aziraphale goes into the bookshop and Crowley looks all worked up and wants to say something and some part of Aziraphale begins to hear warning alarms going off in his head because Crowley *never* looks like this-- is never this flustered, never this uncomfortable, never this nervous, never in a rush to say something-- and Aziraphale thinks no, can't be, we don't talk about this... even if, ironically, all of S2 shows that Aziraphale has been trying *for just that*. It was just a few hours ago that he was trying to Jane Austen a ball for them to use as a pretense to discuss their feelings because, in the height of ironies here, right?

Aziraphale was ready.

They'd had some time without Heaven and Hell breathing so much down their necks, even if the threat still loomed, and spent every day together and it was perfect and it was lovely and he knew Crowley would forgive him and Aziraphale was almost there, right, he was *almost* ready to tell him. He was almost ready to tell him he loved him and that it was him, all those millennia ago, who could have done something and didn't and he's so, so, so sorry and can Crowley ever forgive him? Is there any way that Crowley could ever forgive him after what he didn't say and didn't do when he should have? For all the times since that he's said things in anger when, really, he was madly in love and just full of his own issues to sort out? (Damn, Aziraphale, we're beginning to see your affinity for Austen heroes here...)

But he's out of time so there will be none of that now. Now is his karmic payback. Six thousand beautiful years with the being he loves and feels he doesn't deserve have led to Aziraphale's redemption being that he can sacrifice himself to save him. He can leave the world they love with Crowley and Crowley's *goodness* in it, as it should be. So when Crowley says he needs to say something, Aziraphale cannot-- CANNOT-- let him speak because he cannot bear it.

He suddenly fears that of course-- OF COURSE-- the one moment in all of these trillions of moments they've lived through where Crowley is about to directly say he loves him for the first time is the also the same fucking moment when Aziraphale has to destroy their relationship to save Crowley's life and Aziraphale will be dead after this and he cannot bear hearing what his life could have been. He can't hear Crowley say this right now or else he worries he might lose his nerve. He *wants* to hear it but if Crowley speaks first, Aziraphale might cave, he might be weak again like he was when Crowley Fell, he might fail him again, and he can't. Not after all this time. Not when he loves Crowley so much.

"What's that lovely human expression?! 'Hold that thought!'" he blurts out, in a callback to, of course, the moment Crowley saved him in 1941-- to that night where Aziraphale really realized for the first time that Crowley wasn't just capable of good or capable of being friendly towards him but that Crowley *loved* him and that he loved the Demon Crowley, whether or not he should. ("But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past," sings Frances McDormand as the Voice of God, from her apparent favorite film lol, "I must have done something good.")

Ah, yes. Played for suckers. Here is where it's important to note that in 1941, Aziraphale had no idea that Rose was really Greta and that he, in fact, was the one being played for a sucker. By the end of S2, though, it could be argued that he very much knows that The Metatron is Fraulein Greta Klauschmidt-- someone who presented herself as Captain Rose Montgomery, an agent of anti-fascist good, who approached Aziraphale in his bookshop and told him that he could be an agent of change, too. He could help save the world and stop the global rising tide of fascism represented by the Third Reich. He could even do so using his books. They plotted a sting together, in which he'd bring his books to a church and seem to give them to Nazis to give to the Fuhrer, only for agents to surround them and arrest the Nazis. Aziraphale, desperate to *do* good and to *be* good, falls for this-- he fails to see that Rose is really Greta, a Nazi agent who fools him into working for the enemy and getting him to help destroy the world in the process. Pretty obvious to see here that Greta is The Metatron in S2... but it's likely that Aziraphale knows it and is playing along because it's his turn to save Crowley, unlike what happened in 1941, when Crowley saves him and his books.

Crowley, in the bookshop back at the end of S2 in our present time, stops speaking at the "hold that thought", looking like he's about to be ill, and has to also be thinking of 1941 and the church now that Aziraphale has referenced it. Maybe, in some way, it's an unconscious effort on Aziraphale's part to convey to Crowley that this is a charade-- that he doesn't mean this, that it's an act-- but he really doesn't want Crowley to figure that out. It would defeat his goal. But he also doesn't want to hurt him because he loves him but this is the only way that Aziraphale can see to save him. So he starts gushing about his coffee with The Metatron, right? We all remember this pain lol.

Maybe I've misjudged him. (Aziraphale, we suspect you know that he tossed Crowley into hellfire and stole Gabriel's memories so honestly, the worst part of all of this is that you're so traumatized that Crowley is *buying* what you're saying here...) And guess what?! He wants me to be the new Supreme Archangel! And he said you can come! And you can be an angel again! It will be so fun! We can have a slumber party, Crowley, after days of doing good, and braid each other's hair!

Crowley is like jfc fml are you even serious right now? Which, of course, is what Aziraphale *was going for.* It's the "I don't even like you" and the "we're hereditary enemies" and the "I'm an angel, you're a demon" way of trying to intentionally push Crowley away but the new version of it because none of that flies with S2 Crowley-- most of it barely flew with him in S1-- because Crowley *knows.*

He knows that Aziraphale loves him. And he knows that Aziraphale knows him, which is to say he knows how to hurt him, and that's what this is but also Crowley just sees it as how much Heaven has hurt them both. How much they've hurt Aziraphale. Because just as Aziraphale looks at Crowley in the throes of his religious trauma-- "Unforgivable. It's what I am", etc.-- and wants to help and save and protect him, Crowley feels the same way in return when Aziraphale is like this. Frustrated, sure, but in just as much pain at how much pain Aziraphale is in and feels powerless to stop it but will do whatever he can to try to, yeah?

For Aziraphale, this is all going fairly well (it's miserable but in terms of goal, it's working) through "tell me you said no" but the problem is that Crowley is still pleading. He's still trying to work through it because they're an *us* now and also ironically of course this is when Crowley's been trying to do better with storming out lol so he's trying to couple-solve this. He's not just *leaving* like how Aziraphale had hoped. He had been trying to sell to Crowley that he could pick Heaven over Crowley and Crowley is just kinda... not believing it so much at first and, instead, is trying to approach it like a problem for the two of them to solve together, instead of as a decision that Aziraphale has made for his life that he's stating that Crowley can take or leave.

Which calls back to this scene in 2.01 at the start of this arc, when Crowley calls their life *his* life and Aziraphale counters with that he thought *they* had carved out a life for themselves *together* and Crowley answers: "so did I!" Because they haven't had a discussion about what they are, exactly, at that point, Crowley still cautiously calls *their* life *his* life, retaining a sense of autonomy, as if he's only making decisions for himself when, in reality, they are a couple who are trying to make a life together and have been doing so consciously since S1. Crowley calls that life "precious" and "peaceful" to Aziraphale-- beautiful, lovely things that they both treasure and want and find with one another-- but also "fragile". The threats to them still loom large in the background and they are still so afraid to go much further in their relationship because, in part, of those threats and how terrified they are of losing one another... which just makes the end of S2 even more brutal, really.

(*mantras* cottage in the south downs cottage in the south downs...)

So back in That Scene later in S2, Aziraphale is then just kind of stuck trying to figure out how to get Crowley to be so angry with him that he storms out and never comes back in the face of Crowley trying to very much not do that and then Crowley starts saying that he needs to say what he was going to say or he never will and Aziraphale *knows*, ok? He knows what Crowley needs to say. He just literally cannot believe this is going to happen right now. He honestly can't believe it's happening at all but right now?!

He knows before Crowley begins speaking. He probably knew when he told him to "hold that thought" a few moments before but he *really* knows now. Crowley has no idea that Aziraphale has planned for this to be the last time they ever see one another and to go sacrifice himself to Heaven for whatever they want to do with him to keep them away from Crowley. Crowley looks like he's about to pass out from nerves and can barely speak and just...

...six. thousand. years...

...I know we have all looked at the heartbreak of this scene from Crowley's POV here every which way to Sunday, okay, but just imagine you are Aziraphale, who has loved this being since before the literal beginning of time, and you blame yourself for his pain and suffering, and he's standing here, braver than you've ever been with him, looking into your eyes and telling you that he knows that you love him and that he loves you and he knows you both have known this for basically the entirety of your existence together and he can't pretend anymore. He doesn't want to pretend anymore. He knows things have changed over the last few years between you and he wants more of that. He wants to be with you.

The two of you are not even human, just human-adjacent beings who have gone native from the stars and clouds here, who live and love like humans, who know that maybe the angels and demons have it backwards and God's great creatures are the humans-- that it should be the good in them that you should be trying to emulate-- and Crowley had never been more beautifully, impossibly human than while he's standing there looking ready to pass out while asking you if, after six millennia, it might be alright for him to not hide how much he loves you.

How many times has Aziraphale imagined this by this point? A million? How many different ways? There's at least half of them when he imagines that he's the one who gets up the courage first but there are so. many. Crowley. fantasies. Ones in every time period. But always *a fantasy*, at least up until maybe very recently. Why?

Not even just Heaven and Hell and the threat of being caught but the fact that Aziraphale believes that Crowley doesn't know Aziraphale didn't save him during The Fall and how could he ever really love him if he knew? How could Aziraphale ever go to him like this and give Crowley everything he knows Crowley has desired for so long without telling him the truth about Aziraphale's role in Crowley's Fall-- but then, Aziraphale assumes, he'd lose Crowley forever? So this has always been a pipe dream for Aziraphale-- fantasies from a world where they ever stood a chance of being together-- never really something that could be reality and here it is, starting, happening *now*...

...after six. thousand. years. of living with this guilt and in the last moments in which he will ever see Crowley before he heads to his likely death, with no time to tell him the truth and beg for his forgiveness, no time to ever know what their lives might be like if they could be together.

As Crowley, unbeknownst to Aziraphale, mused dramatically, if not inaccurately, earlier in the season... it's always too late.

It's punishment, in Aziraphale's mind. That's what Crowley's proposal, his confession, is now. It's his Fall, whether he falls or not when he leaves the bookshop for Heaven. It's karmic retribution-- it's God, finally saying something, and what she's saying is:

Look at what you've done, Aziraphale...

Look at how he loves you.

He was never unforgivable.

You are.

Aziraphale might be erased from existence once he gets to Heaven and he knows that's a possibility but he basically is dying here. Crowley is killing him. Crowley has pointed that silver bullet gun straight at his head and fired but he's missed and the bullet isn't in Aziraphale's teeth, it's gone through him.

Crowley, here, tears in his eyes, asking for whatever time they have. An eternity? Impossible, unlikely. Angel and demon. One day, the war will begin again-- another war to end all wars, like all the ones they've fell more and more in love during throughout history-- but it might be the one where Heaven or Hell wins and they're doomed to spend eternity apart. Crowley has said before he thinks the real war is humanity versus Heaven and Hell and that sounds like he thinks there's a chance they could survive it but who knows? They don't know. They're immortal beings who live like humans and that's, of late, included a sense of mortality. They don't know how much time they have left and Crowley is asking for all of it. He is asking for whatever time they have left to be spent together, openly loving one another, and what he doesn't know is what Aziraphale knows:

That they're already out of time.

Crowley is proposing marriage unaware that Aziraphale is dying. It's always too late, Crowley had stated earlier but had hope that maybe it wasn't but it is. And Aziraphale?

Gah. Aziraphale...

He's never loved him more. He's never wanted him more. He wants to tell him that he wants that, too, that they can have it, that Crowley can have anything he wants, but it's not true. It's not true because they could run out the back door of the bookshop now and hop in the Bentley and end-of-Grease it up to Alpha Centauri and Heaven will still find them. Heaven and Hell will still be after them. Running away solves nothing and Crowley always, ultimately, anyway, comes back and this time-- this time-- for Crowley's own good, to save his life, Aziraphale needs him to leave the bookshop and never come back.

And the moment that Crowley confesses that he loves him and that he knows Aziraphale loves him in return and that they've both known this, forever, and asks him if he can be allowed to just love him, Aziraphale loves him so much in return that he'll break his heart to save him from dying.

Dying is... not on, as High!Crowley put it in 1827 lol, but suicide-ish attempts are, if it's Aziraphale's turn this time.

So he twists the knife. He hides the goats as pigeons and he looks at Crowley and does a bit of this:

...only with the exact opposite intent. In the Job minisode, Crowley cannot speak aloud his true intentions. (Something he can finally do in the S2 finale, when he declares his love for Aziraphale.) He cannot tell Aziraphale outrightly that he had zero desire whatosever to kill Job's kids and animals and doesn't plan on actually doing it and, in fact, is actively engaged in a bit of bait-and-switch to make it look like he's doing what he's supposed to be doing as mandated by Heaven! this time as well as Hell (a nice little extra bit of paralleling to the end of S2 and Aziraphale, there.) He wants Aziraphale to believe him enough to allow him to pull it off because saving the kids and the pets (and protecting Aziraphale from any harm that might come to him if he gets in the way of what Crowley's been asked to do) matters more to Crowley than Aziraphale believing him...

...and believing him here means believing *in* him. Believing that they are on the same side and it's their own side and they're in it together. Crowley has to lie to him here *and it works for a moment*. It's really important to note that *it works*. Aziraphale believes that Crowley can do this and that he wants to-- that he not only can but he *longs* (lol) to "kill the blameless kids of Job"-- but it's all in Crowley's wording. He isn't *actually* lying. He *does* long to kill the blameless kids of Job like how he killed the blameless goats of Job-- because he "killed the blameless goats of Job" by turning them into pigeons. So he's really saying to Aziraphale that he longs to *fake the deaths* of the blameless kids of Job and plans to in the same way that he did the goats. In that moment, though? It didn't matter if Crowley was lying or telling the truth. There was only one goal--

--to get Aziraphale to walk away.

To get Aziraphale to leave, for his own safety, and let Crowley handle this. Better that he misunderstand Crowley and be disappointed in him and think him a lost cause than to get himself into trouble. Crowley out here loving Aziraphale that much in the days of Bildad the Shuite. (This poor mfer. Six. Thousand. Years lol.)

So what caused Crowley's plan to save Aziraphale in the Job era to not work?

One of the pigeons bleated, right?

Aziraphale heard it and realized that Crowley hadn't been lying so much as he had been trying to protect Aziraphale from his plan of subterfuge against the Almighty and Satan. The difference is that there are no bleating pigeons in the S2 finale... there's just *a whole certain famous other kind of damn bird instead* and its *absence* from the scene is the big emotional gut punch moment. And we all know it but I'll gif it anyway since this is already a depressing meta (cottage in the south downs cottage in the south downs...)...

...and that *is* the point. Because unlike back in the Bildad the Shuite days, there is no bleating pigeon (at least, not yet) to make Crowley realize that all is not what it seems and that Aziraphale is trying to lie to him and get him to leave to protect him from Heaven.

As Aziraphale is like mortally wounded here by Crowley's confession of love and is so not going to recover from this, he's now got to not only get Crowley to leave feeling like Aziraphale rejected being their own team for Heaven, he has to now do it with all of it out in the open-- with Crowley having openly confessed love for him, with him having asked for them to be together. He's not just going to have to frustrate Crowley more than he ever has before and get him to leave more angry than he was before, he has to, instead, smash into little tiny bits the very beautiful, very passionate, beating heart of the being he has loved since he met him *making the stars* in the bloody sky here...

The only way to get Crowley to go now is to make Crowley think he's rejecting the idea of loving him. Aziraphale honestly can't even sell the idea that he *doesn't* love Crowley because Crowley won't believe it-- he knows Aziraphale does and he's said as much in his whole marriage proposal here. So it has to be that Crowley thinks Aziraphale chose Heaven over loving him. Chose being an angel. That he really meant all of those 'hereditary enemies' and 'you're a demon' moments and to sell that, he sells it.

(You're a dark horse, Mr. Fell, Nina said of him in 2.01... the same turn of phrase Crowley uses when surprised by the secret skills and narrative power of Jane Austen later on in the pub.)

Aziraphale does love himself a bit of theatre. A bit of a disappearing act. The West End, The West End...

...our Nefertiti-fooling fellow...

He sells it with:

Well, of course you said no, *you're* the bad guys...

Come with me... I'll run, it you can be *my second-in-command*...

We can be together. *Angels*. Doing *good*...

...oh, Crowley... nothing lasts forever...

For his final act, The Marvelous Mr. Fell will saw his ineffable husband's heart in half by spewing a litany of everything he can think of to say that will piss him off enough to make him leave the bookshop broken-hearted enough to never come back.

Only someone put a miracle blocker on here because, try as he might and good heavens (pardon the pun), Aziraphale is *trying* here...

...this turnip is not turning into a damn inkwell.

Crowley finally starts to go-- it's looking promising. Finally, Aziraphale thinks, this misery might end. Six thousand years of wanting to speak of all of this between them and hoping for some happiness when-- if-- it could maybe someday arrive, if it even could-- and it's the worst moment of Aziraphale's existence and he knows it is the same for Crowley.

Crowley stops and the "do you hear that?" And no, Aziraphale doesn't hear anything, he just has never been more upset and Crowley needs to just go because Aziraphale can't handle another moment of this, how could it possibly get worse?

Nightingales. Of course.

A call back to S1's "no more world-class composers/little restaurants where they know you/gravalax and dill sauce/old bookshops" but this time, it's "no nightingales". There's Armageddon coming that neither of them know about in this moment. It's still a 'someday, they'll try again' concept to them in this scene, not an extremely immediate threat, as Aziraphale doesn't learn about The Second Coming until after this. So the end of the world that Crowley references here is the end of *their* world and that means no nightingales. No romance. No *them*, together. Worth remembering that Crowley thought, up until maybe what? Five minutes ago? That they were headed to breakfast at the Ritz together. They should have been sitting there together *in this moment*, is what he's saying. Miracling the pianist to play "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" and gazing at one another over teapots and mimosas and croissants.

That's gone, since you chose Heaven instead, is what Crowley states and Aziraphale knows it because, God help him (no, literally, GOD HELP HIM! WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GO OFF TO THIS SEASON, FRANCES?!), it's what he's *trying* to make happen.

You idiot, says the once-Bildad the Shuite, who thought he was taking his beloved to the ox rib special this morning and not getting dumped for an old floating head and the cinematic world's most contentious to-go cup of coffee, we could have been... us.

Not really a part of the theory here, just the observation that Crowley's confession/proposal begins with him unable to say "a couple", in case this all goes pear-shaped and he needs to have never said something that romantic, so he says instead "a team", "a group-- of the two of us". He says it without saying it. But, by the end? He just says "us." He *present*-tenses it. He's like forget everything else, angel, we could have just kept on being us because we both know what we are. We don't need to find the right turn of phrase or even the most specific human word for it. We are just *us* and we could have kept on with that but you chose the mentality of your abusive family and asked me to be what I'm not and I still love you because I *know* you but I can't be with you like that and *you* know that.

And he kisses him. Because Franny McD says you ain't suffered enough yet, Aziraphale lol. Should I just gif it while we're miserable? If you've read this far, a month has passed and hopefully, you've taken breaks and I do apologize but I'm gonna gif it because yeah. Here we go, folks...

God, make it stop, pleads Aziraphale to literal God and here comes Crowley with the S1 wall slam parallel, all dammit, angel, I know you've wanted us to snog for centuries and this is our last chance.

I know people have opinions about this kiss and I know we're all posting them here, obviously myself included, but while I've seen a lot of like... 'Crowley knows it's the only time they ever will be able to because Aziraphale is leaving him for Heaven' and 'Crowley wants to remind Aziraphale what he's giving up and could have had' and 'Crowley tries the kiss to see if it'll change Aziraphale's mind' takes-- and I agree with all of those things and think they're all right-- I've not seen a lot of 'Crowley kisses Aziraphale *for Aziraphale*' and I think that's a big part of it, too.

Crowley really isn't stupid. Not when it comes to Aziraphale wanting him. It would be honestly hard to spend a zillion lifetimes on Earth and not get it after like...

And Crowley understands Aziraphale's particular brand of religious trauma more than most, since he has a variant version of it himself. He understands that where his whole thing is that he's very much *not* an angel anymore, that Aziraphale's identity is wrapped up in being one and the conflicts he has with Heaven and while Crowley is not yet quite hearing what Nina said-- that she just got out of an abusive relationship and that she's not yet ready to be with Maggie and needs time-- and marrying that to Aziraphale and Heaven (especially because Aziraphale is showing exactly zero signs of trying to get out of his relationship with Heaven lol), Crowley wants Aziraphale to have had what he (Aziraphale) wanted, even if it was for only a moment. He can't go with him. This is the *one* scenario where Crowley cannot follow where Aziraphale goes, where he can't come to him and rescue him, because Aziraphale has said he doesn't want him to. Aziraphale wants to go and do this and the only way he'll take Crowley is if Crowley wants to become an angel again, which Crowley will not do.

And damned if there isn't a part of Aziraphale that thinks that if The Metatron can really be trusted, wouldn't that be something? That if he gets up there to Heaven and he really is made Supreme Archangel and if Crowley changes his mind, if he comes back, like he always does... if he storms out and leaves but then misses him too much and takes the elevator up... then maybe Aziraphale could make him an angel again and while Crowley hears in Aziraphale offering that you aren't good enough as a demon-- you're not good, period and even if he doesn't totally believe that Aziraphale really thinks that but knows Aziraphale has enough religious conflict that it's a problem for their relationship, what Aziraphale *really* means is... I could fix it.

I could go back and un-Fall you. I could take away your pain. I could stop your suffering. I'd have the *power* to do it when I don't right now and it kills me, every day. I could right the wrong I did, the sin I committed-- the real Original Sin-- six thousand years ago when I betrayed you, when Heaven betrayed you.

I could do right by you, the way She never did.

I am going to Heaven to either have the power to do that or to be obliterated into non-existence and I don't totally know which, though surviving is not looking promising, but all I know is that it's too dangerous for you to follow me right now until I do know so I'd rather hurt you than see you dead.

You want to be with me and I am afraid it will lead to your destruction so I need to say anything to put the breaks on your attempt and make you back off. To a lesser extent, I've done it before. Can do again.

Only this time, no hope of the possible, future picnic, I'm afraid...

It really is the worst possible Aziraphale nightmare here like... everything he's ever wanted. Six millennia of wanting to pull Crowley close and he has to reject him or Crowley could die. Fanfic season here said Coffee Shop AU and also a reverse-Fuck or Die for the ages. People complaining that it's awkward? YES. It's supposed to be. Crowley has no idea that Aziraphale is facing a round of sudden death here and was just hoping for his one fabulous kiss and vavoom. Even if it didn't change anything-- he wanted *Aziraphale* to feel that. To know how much he's wanted this for so long and to have it, even if they can't again. The intent is terribly romantic, as is Aziraphale flailing in the middle of it and giving in because he is made of strong, halo-exploding stuff here but he's wanted this forever. He goes up on his toes, he leans in, his hands flail around and he touches Crowley's back. He *shouldn't* do any of this if he's trying to meet his goal of getting Crowley to leave because it gave Crowley hope. It might have even been what motivated Crowley to stay outside and not go right away, or at least a part of it. But Aziraphale had to because he loves him and he couldn't help it.

Then, *sob*, The Michael Sheen eviscerating all of us here...

For anyone who might still be saying that is an "I didn't want his kiss" face... hard, HARD, VERY HARD disagree. That is "I didn't want *this* kiss, like this, right now." That is a man-shaped being who was just kissed by the love of his life for what may have been the first time but, at minimum, is for what he believes will be the *last* time. (I'm still out here holding out some hope for Blitz, Part 3-- a nice first kiss after they kill some Zombie Nazis with Chekhov's derringer in the bookshop but I digress...somehow, even if this entire long meta is one long digression, I digress lol...)

It's the face of a man gutted by the fact that this, in his wildest dreams, was not supposed to happen like this and he's been alive for damn ever at this point so he's had *all* the wildest dreams. And a lot of them, let's be real, have centered around Crowley doing just this. Exactly this. Crowley ain't wrong with the 'grabbing him by the collar and kissing him senseless in the middle of the bookshop' thing. He's wanted to do it for centuries. And the middle of the bookshop bit? That's important, too. This is their home. It's *their* home, even if Crowley is technically homeless. It's safe for him in here and Aziraphale has made it so. It's where they've spent thousands of hours together, happy and safe in each other's company, and here they are, bouille-bouile-bouile-baby-ing finally and it's a complete and utter, unmitigated trash truck dumpster fire.

Honestly, this was a better kiss than in S2 lol. S1 laying down though how long they've been dreaming about it (and having Crowley start listing animals that are in Aziraphale's nonsense magic spell, like he flashes back to 1941 when thinking about the end of the world and kissing Aziraphale in the bookshop... so you can see why I'm moderately hopeful that maybe they did kiss then, once, before then trying to never again until Crowley kisses Aziraphale in 2.06.)

I'm going to bring this back around now to the comparison I made above with Crowley and Jesus and talk about how 2.06's end scenes are also like the last temptation of Christ. Good Omens makes it pretty clear that Aziraphale is the tempter, really, of the two of them, in their relationship. Crowley can't say no to him and Aziraphale has learned it and loves to puppy eyes Crowley into anything he wants.

Crowley knows it and is fine with it. He's smitten and happy to be wrapped around Aziraphale's finger. Crowley has tempted Aziraphale and we see that in S2 with the ox rib. He is, himself, just by existing, tempting to Aziraphale. But in terms of temptation carrying with it a bit of manipulation and *that* kind of tempting being what's demonic in nature? Then Aziraphale is, and always has been, the demon of the two of them. This is true into the end of S2, as while there is almost nothing that Crowley would deny Aziraphale, there is really only one thing and that's to change who he is for him. To become an angel again, to work for Heaven again, after what they've done to him and Aziraphale. So the end of S2 is then Aziraphale's temptation-- it's a test, of sorts, for Crowley, even if Aziraphale doesn't intend for it to be. Crowley resists the temptation. Even for Aziraphale, he won't follow the path of darkness for himself and become something he's not. Crowley-Jesus. (Aziraphale-Satan S3 incoming lol.)

And if you've been reading all of this right then you know what happens next and what it means from the POV of this guilt-ridden Aziraphale...

I honestly don't think Aziraphale is really that angry *with Crowley* at this point-- I think he's just angry. He's reached his limit and then some. He has a lot of simmering, under the surface rage on a good day that only bubbles over when he's stressed by a situation he can't control and here is the ultimate one, really. He's a little mad at Crowley because they've waited countless years for that and in an argument, while ironically probably kind of perfect for them, is not really how *either* of them wanted it to be... but, mostly, Aziraphale is just angry that he can't have any of those moments at all. That they're out of time. That they had all this time and they never really could be safely together and that he's been haunted for six thousand years of the image of his fluffy cloud of redheaded sunshine, bloodied and stricken, and then tossed to Hell while Aziraphale was powerless to stop it. He's never seen those eyes since and he loves the snake ones. He loves all of Crowley with all he has but he's never been allowed to *have* him and never felt safe enough to try and now it's all over. And he still has to make Crowley fucking leave this bookshop for his plan of self-sacrifice to fucking work here so...

...I forgive you. It's the worst thing he can think of. The thing Crowley always hates. The thing that he knows makes Crowley feel lesser and demonic, even if Aziraphale has always, always meant it as an I love you. He even spits it out to Crowley with an almost self-deprecating, referential tone to it-- like "here we go again-- you say you love me and I say 'I forgive you' because I can't say anything else, can I?" The anger is laced underneath it and all the pain but he's intentionally referencing how this this the thing he says whenever Crowley says they can be their own side. He's trying to claim that nothing has changed in all of these years, when they both know that everything has changed since S1 and the bandstand. That's what makes it hurt both of them even more. Aziraphale chooses to say "I forgive you" because he knows that Crowley has never heard it for how Aziraphale means it and Aziraphale is a little bitter about it and lets it show in the moment, since Aziraphale's I forgive you always really means...

I can't stand to see you in pain and if there's any power in me as an angel to stop it, then I will do that so I forgive you and may that make it easier, may that make it all okay, even though I know it won't.

And just before saying I forgive you, Aziraphale's mouth works and he almost-- almost-- says I love you instead... what Crowley would really give anything to hear.

You can see the 'l' forming there, the beginning of "love", what he *really* wanted to say... what Crowley himself didn't even actually explicitly say. Crowley said it without saying it. He called them a couple without saying that word, asked for eternity without fully asking for it, said he loved him by acknowledging that they had both been pretending, but Crowley was terrified and so he said the things in a way that made it obvious what he was saying and asking for but, so unused to not speaking in code are they, that Crowley didn't say he loved Aziraphale, not directly. He did say it. He just didn't say it in those words.

And for a second, Aziraphale almost does.

He can't stand that he's breaking Crowley's heart. He can't stand that Crowley has kissed him and Aziraphale only briefly kissed him back, only barely touched him, when he really wanted to go at him like an ox rib and never let him go, and he starts to say the truth because no part of him really *wants* to be lying like this to Crowley. But he stops. And not even just because he needs Crowley to leave the shop to save his life but because, in the last four minutes, Crowley has confessed love and proposed and they've kissed and Aziraphale, pretty sure he actually died somewhere in the middle there and he's now stuck somewhere in one of Dante's worst circles of Hell lol, just cannot *also* have this be the moment where he says "I love you" to Crowley.

It's not even false hope that maybe they'll somehow have more time. With Heaven breathing down his neck in the form of The Metatron, Aziraphale has no real hope of that. He just always dreamed of telling him and not like this. He doesn't want Crowley to hear it like this, either, not as a part of a rejection. The anger, instead, surfaces, because why can't he and Crowley just *have* this?! How the hell did Gabriel and Beezlebub get to fuck off to Alpha Centauri after dating for ten minutes when he and Crowley have spent bloody eons in queer pining hell over here? What did they ever do that was so wrong to deserve this? Why was Crowley asking questions so terrible? Why have they had to spend thousands of years pretending not to love each other as if love-- the epitome of the angelic-- was unholy? Why, Aziraphale is wondering, now that they are out of time, did he ever spend so many years terrified when, in the end, it all ended tragically anyway?

How many of those years could Aziraphale have spent loving Crowley the way they ought to have been able to have and denied themselves of for so long?

And then Crowley finally does it. Tells him "don't bother" about the forgiveness-- about the love, as Aziraphale has always meant it-- and he leaves. It worked. The anger and pain and saying "I forgive you" after that kiss... it worked. And Crowley leaves and Aziraphale, alone, is a complete mess of broken and furious and broken some more.

Crowley, as we know, doesn't get to see this moment. Muriel does! Great for fic! Hilarious by show standards that the new angel who is literally being ordered to take over Aziraphale's home against his will is who witnesses the aftermath of the intimate moment our angel has been craving, oh, just since before the dawn of humanity over here.

He touches his lips, his hand trembles... have you all noticed that Aziraphale is literally fucking *tasting and eating* what of himself Crowley left in his mouth here? He's pulling every bit of Crowley to his tongue from his teeth and *swallowing*, like he knows it's all of him he'll ever again be able to consume, like he's committing how he tastes to memory for the last like, who knows, ten? fifteen? twenty minutes? of his own existence that he knows he probably has left...

Jesus fucking Christ, Michael Sheen...

This is all without yet mentioning the single most under-analyzed line in S2 that calls into question a ton of stuff, which is this beauty from Shax, right off the top of 2.01:

"Beezlebub's put some of the lesser demons on half-rations."

What does this have to do with Aziraphale consuming Crowley's kiss like it's the most scrumptious thing he's ever tasted (because it is) and being furious that it'll be their last?

Because that Shax line casually confirms that demons eat. Do they eat human food or some sort of demon food or both? Who knows, really, but they're *supposed* to eat. Ok, but is it just a demon thing? No, because it ties to Crowley's comments in S1 about how he complained that the food wasn't really that good lately when hanging out with Lucifer and The Gang, which then implies that, at least back then, *angels* ate, too. Eating was a normal thing. Over time, though, we know that the higher angels have come to see eating as human and pedestrian and not something befitting of an angel. Some demons eat-- even Crowley eats, if less than and differently than Aziraphale-- but the angels think it's beneath them and if we have confirmation via Shax in S2 that they are supposed to be eating and basically only don't die because they're immortal beings and not human, even if they have human corporations, then the show is saying that all of these angels are fucking starving themselves.

They're doing what they're told and denying their own nature and their own needs in the process.

S2 also shows that with the ox rib, right?

Aziraphale went *at* that thing. He'd never eaten at all in a couple thousand years after being told it was un-angelic and so when he tasted food for the first time, he went so overboard that he's been Mr. Prim and Proper with his napkins and table etiquette ever since out of embarrassment over Crowley watching him food orgasm once-- and that's the metaphor there, as we've all figured out. Our show that has a sex worker named Mrs. Sandwich is all about its ongoing food-as-sex metaphor. S2 even opens with the hilarious turnabout from S1 as a "thank you for my pornography", "why do you consume *that*?" Gabriel shows up at the bookshop-- naked-- and has a food orgasm trying hot chocolate for the first time.

Gabe, babe, Aziraphale does not need the play-by-play here....

Mah point is... mah point is that Tumblr is maxing me at 30 images per post and so you'll just have to picture Crowley slurring "dolphins" while I get to my actual point here...

Mah point is while this is a whole separate analysis almost and one that many of you have already done in different ways re: food & sex on the show, my point here is that starving yourself of food in Good Omens is analogous to being touch-starved or love-deprived and before someone yells at me about how angelic beings don't necessarily need sex or are by nature not into sex unless they make an Effort, I agree with you and Neil Gaiman. I'm just also saying the show is suggesting that they all have human corporations and that many of those human corporations are not sex-averse so for those of them that are not, they're literally out here touch-starved and/or sex-starved here in different ways. But, you say, maybe Crowley is hungry (goodness knows, Crowley *is hungry* lol) but Aziraphale eats all the time!

Yeah. Aziraphale eats *food*, all the time. But he isn't touched all the time. He doesn't have sex all the time. He isn't kissed all the time. The 2.06 scene shows him *physically* making that metaphor of food and sex real for us-- we watch him *consume* what remains of Crowley's kiss--showing that he's desperate for it and deprived of it. He's starved for it, to a point of trembling hands and rolling every bit of Crowley's lingering taste around his mouth like he's taking on every last bite of the best crepe he could ever imagine in all his days...

...and then being, understandably, full of rage that this is the only time he's going to ever have Crowley-- and all he's ever going to have of him, when Crowley just offered all of himself-- forever.

And then The Metatron comes back and is Aziraphale ready to go to his death now? And, Friends, Aziraphale...

...is absolutely not.

He's turned away from the door, barely containing tears. When the door opened and he turned, he half-hoped it'd be Crowley but it was grr That Bastard instead. He looks out the window and Crowley is still out there...

...he left but he didn't really *leave*... and it somehow then still isn't over and will someone please just take Aziraphale out back and angel-shoot him? He can't take any more of this.

What about the shop? he asks, in a moment of desperation and terror over what's to come and some blind, stupid hope that he can somehow get out of all of this with him and Crowley still alive and The Metatron, who anticipated this, tells him Muriel lives here now. Aziraphale looks around the home he's made for him and Crowley for the last 223 years and his favorite books and possessions. Crowley's hat from 1941 is on the hat stand, the horse statue is where Crowley put his glasses back when he trusted him, back when he let Aziraphale see his pretty yellow eyes whenever Aziraphale wanted in recent years... before he just put his glasses back on now and closed himself off again.

Aziraphale is never going to see those eyes he loves again. He didn't even get to kiss Crowley without the sunglasses on before it was all over.

Even Gabriel had something to take up to Heaven with him to remind him of the demon he loved but Aziraphale goes to Heaven and to his death empty-handed because he pushed Crowley away to save him from all of this and, in the final push, he looks at Crowley standing there by The Bentley, all that secretly optimistic, beautiful, romantic hope about him still in him from the angel Aziraphale first met, all the awareness there of Aziraphale-- the only being who really knows him-- and so he's still waiting, still hoping. It goes back a few hours to the ball.

I'll be back. I won't leave you on your own.

But it's Aziraphale's call now and he gets into the elevator. The Metatron wins because Aziraphale's love for Crowley wins. He'll die before he lets anything happen to him, even if he wants to run to that car and to him but where would they run *to*? There's no place to go. Crowley has always been wrong about that. They can't go off together. There's no place safe from Heaven for them.

So Aziraphale gets into the elevator at The Dirty Donkey, leaving Crowley alone in the street once again, just with less hope this time than in 1967.

So Aziraphale leaves the bookshop this time, instead of going into it like he did in S1, when he left Crowley in the street, standing beside The Bentley, while clutching a different book this time-- Agnes Nutter's prophecies in his hand versus The Book of Life and its threatened erasure hanging over Aziraphale like the specter that it is. What was predicted about the future versus erasure from the past and all time. Nothing to see here, Crowley! Everything is as it's seems.

Everything is tickety-boo!

Tickety-boo?

Yes, which is also what Aziraphale-as-Crowley said... when he was kidnapped by Heaven and Hell in S1, remember? When he was taken from Earth to be sentenced to death... along *with* Crowley.

This time, Aziraphale is shutting Crowley out again. Telling him 'mind how you go' again, this time a bit more, uh, emphatically lol. And on their heels, again, the end of the world. Arma-bloody-geddon 2.0: The Second Coming.

Aziraphale heard The Metatron saying that was the plan-- as, of course, our villain walked away and meant for it not to be totally heard, further implying that they have no plans to really make Aziraphale the Supreme Archangel and that this is all a remix of Fraulein Greta Klauschmidt. That then makes this all somehow *even worse*... because now Aziraphale gets in the elevator to ride up to his death to save Crowley but now he knows that it was all for nothing.

War is coming. The planet they love will be destroyed. Crowley, if he knows him well enough, will likely die trying to save it. When he does, he'll still be damned to Hell for all of eternity while Aziraphale thinks he likely won't exist at all once he makes it upstairs and Michael finally gets to Book of Life him. Let the other angels think he's been played for a sucker. Better they think him a fool than that they come for Crowley.

He doesn't want to Fall and doesn't wish for it. If they take his memories as punishment, and they almost certainly will, he won't remember any of the moments he spent with Crowley and even if they could have eternity together in Hell if the world is destroyed, he wouldn't wish Crowley the pain of being around him when he didn't remember anything.

Aziraphale only finding out about The Second Coming in the moment before he gets on the elevator-- *after* everything happens with Crowley-- is a million times worse because now Aziraphale is riding to his death knowing that everything they've done in six thousand years doesn't matter and that the events of S1 didn't matter because all it did was delay the inevitable end of the world and everything Aziraphale loves is about to be destroyed.

That, apparently, was God's ineffable, Great Plan.

All of that is what is on Aziraphale's face on the ride up to Heaven in the final splitscreen.

In that splitscreen, Crowley, for what it's worth, is visually echoing the driving back from Tadfield bit that leads to the "tickety-boo" moment of Aziraphale lying to him by omission. He looks close to a parallel to the S1 moment where he suddenly yelled:

"DUCKS!"

They're what water slides off of. In this context? They were also the thing itching at the back of Crowley's mind-- the not quite right thing, the puzzle he couldn't quite figure out, the question he coudln't yet quite answer... until he could. That's positive, actually. It means there might be something for him to realize, even if that realization might come too late in the short term. (They will solve everything and be fine, memory-intact, immortal beings in love who go off together by the end of it. This is all just until then.)

Ducks are also, sort of, the be all and end all of Good Omens. Crowley knows how to take care of them, after all, when others do not. You feed them frozen peas-- they are good for them and they love them, too. (Don't feed him coffee, you Metatron idiot! He only ever drank one mug of it in S1 and it led to the *points above* see: tickety-boo Aziraphale lying to Crowley paralleling sequence of scenes.) [The "do you have one, single, better idea?" scene is Aziraphale drinking coffee, for reference.]

So, yeah, by comparison here... Aziraphale, you are a duck lol. You have been fed bread by idiots for far too long when, really, you need to be eating frozen peas. Crowley knows this and he knows how to take care of you. With any luck, he's about to have his duck-moment-paralleling epiphany any moment now, though I fear you're already going to be memory-wiped and fallen to Hell when he does. That's okay, though, because this is the main scene that still needs a go-around in paralleling and we know Crowley knows where the dungeons are down there from unfortunate, personal experience.

Cottage in the south downs, cottage in the south downs, cottage in the south downs, cottage....

Notes: Hi! If you have made it all the way here, thank you for reading. I hope it was worth the read for you. You all write such great stuff that I felt inspired to put my lit and film studies and psych background to use and jump in a bit. Thanks for indulging me. I also wish to note that there is a gif above that is by @fuckyeahgoodomens but for some reason, the credit was not working properly so I just wanted to make sure you knew who was providing us the visual joy.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley x aziraphale #good omens meta #long post #good omens theory #i am not kidding you this is kinda long but there are gifs and jokes and i brought snacks? #aziraphale #crowley #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #gabriel

[dahfloofysmol]

HELLO. This is the official post for YouTube kids’ surprise party on the 27th of March. Any and all gimmick blogs welcomed!

Some roles we need are:

-DJ [real-pollo-campero]

-great DJ (as per requested 🤨) [spotify-kids-real]

-video jockey [buildabearfr]

-Someone to make the cake [forever21-official]

-Puncher server [big-mayo-official]

-Decorator [barns-and-noble-official]

-Party crasher(s) [officialtinder and youtubefr and actually-kroger]

-Corner Person [Pinterest, yahooo-official, reallytimhortons]

-Person who’s dealing with a crazy sugar high [firewaysubs and zotap]

-Emotional support [walmart and def-bjs-guys]

-Mom [Krista the art program and Canadian tire] AND dad friend

-Birthday person IS taken (obviously lol)

-Someone to bring snacks [incognito-mode-official]

-Ring Leader (person in charge of the games) [totally-official-yahoo]

-person who performs a special but confusing (and overly translated) version of happy birthday [google translate ]

-piñata [firehouse-subs-fr]

-setting off fireworks [google-news-official]

-here for the food and bringing tWO DOGS!!! OMG DOGS!!!!! [swearification-and-cursing]

-person currently trying tO EAT THE CAKE!! STOP THAT!!! [shakespeare-official-account]

- stopping the Cake Eater [wow-google-maps]

- putting spiders (?????) under the cake [true-blue-straya]

- the person that is every bisexuals awakening [it’s-target-official]

-pops in for the last 5 minutes with a card + a store bought cake [the-real-google]

- gay wine uncle [the-McDonald’s]

- creepy uncle (???) [rick-e-chedder-official]

-single rich aunt who disappears every night at specifically 8:00 pm [totally-not-kraft-mac-and-cheese]

-shapeshifts between wine aunt and vodka uncle, and the comic relief [the-one-and-only-duckduckgo]

- bringing lights so we aren’t all dancing in the dark [real-vivaldi-browser]

- summoning Satan under the table with a bottle of whiskey and pancakes (??????????) [definitely-canada]

-person asking weirdly specific and absurd questions [actual-aspec-military]

-the COOLEST cousin [support-speaks]

-cousin who hangs out in the corner and looks like they know something you dont [the-official-publix]

-person who hits on everyone at the party even though they’re already dating 2 ppl [fr-winn-dixie]

-contributes Ziploc® bags [totally-scjohnson]

-bringing burritos [the-real-chipotle]

-YouTube's kids southern aunt who blesses everyone's hearts bc they think theyre dumb most of the time [i-bless-your-heart]

-middle school cousin who argues with anyone and everyone to look cool [wallyworld-the-unofficial]

-gives oil (?????????????) and branded pens as party favors [truly-jcjenson]

-the strange neighbor kid who talks to no one but sings the loudest and brings a weird yet tasteful gift [the-real-aperture-science]

-bringing Walmart sugar cookies [not-really-discord]

-guy bringing the Knives [wheatley-labs-official]

-joining in on the games [totally-official-yahoo]

-the disco ball [jollibee-real]

-that one uncle with lore of untold numbers of deaths involved, and that includes guns [partycityistotallyofficailguy]

And any other role I haven’t stated!! I’ll accept pretty much anything

In case what you pick is already chosen, tag your second option ;p

—>The biggest part of the surprise party is wishing YouTube kids a happy birthday, but in the most creative way possible. In the “ask me” works, but literally anywhere; on your blog or on a post from anywhere (that you know they’d be okay with a little shenanigans) works wonderfully.

->Also, saying happy birthday is awesome, but spicing it up would be more fun!!! Day Of Birth, One of Awakening, Oh Child of the 27th, and any other batshit way to say “happy birthday” would both be awesome and absolutely hilarious.

Again, invite any and all gimmick blogs, and feel free to let me know what you’d want to do! We attack on the 27th >:DD

ADDITIONAL NOTE: sometimes there will be more than one person in each role! I do actively encourage for people to come up with silly and niche roles if you think of one ;D

ON THE 24th I WILL NO LONGER TAKE ROLLS!!!! Spread the word please!

@barnes-and-noble-official @basically-bumble @totallyofficialtacobell @totally-official-yahoo @totally-bing @officialtinder @officially-google-translate @officially-ikea @official-fedex @incognito-mode-official @forever21-offical @officialkfc @kfc-official @k-f-c-official @life360-i-swear @xgames-blog @cars-official @big-mayo-official @bingle-official @the-real-google @the-real-firefox @nasa @wow-google-maps @wallyworld-the-unofficial @walmart-the-official @realgoogleslides @realgoogledocs @yahooo-official @unfortunate-wattpad @firewaysubs @firefox-official @pinterest-real @spotify-kids-real @duothelingo @definitely-wikipedia @firehouse-subs-fr @google-2point0 @gimmick-thief

#BIRTHDAY PARTY #birth of party #party birth #YouTube kids is in for a treat #I’m not gonna like #IF I have time #IF #I will make a collaborative drawing of everyone and their roles #I think I will #but for now gotta focus on people claiming roles 👍👍 #March 27th #we have a good amount of time to do this >:D #LETS GO #//cackles in delight//

[wearethekat]

Anticipated New Releases of 2024

**As anticipated by Me. Mostly SFF. Links are to goodreads because that's what I use, sorry. Anything marked "new to me" I haven't read anything by that author before and therefore can't vouch for the quality. I just think the premise is neat.**

Emily Wilde's Map of the Otherlands, Heather Fawcett (16 January)

Sequel to the charming novel about the fairy anthropologist.

Exordia, Seth Dickinson (23 January)

Well, it isn't a new Baru Cormorant, but this modern SF about first contact may be the next best thing.

City of Stardust, Georgia Summers (30 January)

New to me. A young woman descends into the underworld in order to break her family's fatal curse.

The Tainted Cup, Robert Jackson Bennett (6 February)

New to me. A sherlock holmes flavored duo solves the mystery of the murder of an imperial official in a labyrinthine fantasy realm.

What Feasts at Night, T Kingfisher (13 February)

The sequel to the mushroom horror book What Moves the Dead.

The Warm Hands of Ghosts, Katherine Arden (13 February)

A ghost story set in WW1 about a woman searching for her missing brother.

The Fox Wife, Yangsze Choo (13 February)

New to me. A detective in 1908 Manchuria investigates a young woman's death in an area full of mythical foxes.

Redsight, Meredith Mooring (27 February)

New to me. Unpowered priestess and Imperial pawn is set on a collision path with a pirate with a grudge for the Imperium (Gay romance).

Sunbringer, Hannah Kaner (12 March)

Sequel about the professional godkiller Kissen.

Jumpnauts, Hao Jingfang (12 March)

New to me. A SF novel in translation from Chinese, with three scientists joining forces to deal peacefully with a first contact situation.

The Woods All Black, Lee Mandelo (19 March)

I liked Mandelo's debut novel very much so I'm excited to read this queer horror novella set in 1920s Appalachia.

Floating Hotel, Grace Curtis (19 March)

New to me. A series of cozy character vignettes on a space cruise ship after a murder has occurred. One of the four (!) space hotel murder crimes books coming out this year.

The Emperor and the Endless Palace, Justinian Huang (26 March)

New to me. Reincarnation gay romance set in 4 BCE China, the 1740s, and modern-day LA.

Alien Clay, Adrian Tchaikovsky (28 March)

Far future space xenoarchaeology by a man trapped on a prison planet.

Someone You Can Build a Nest In, John Wiswell (2 April)

New to me. Bizarre lesbian cannibalism monster romance from the point of view of the monster.

The Familiar, Leigh Bardugo (9 April)

Glad to see Bardugo writing more adult fantasy, and this one is especially exciting because it's a fantasy set in early modern Spain with a Jewish main character. Fun to see a more original historical period.

A Sweet Sting of Salt, Rose Sutherland (9 April)

New to me. Lesbian selkie romance.

Death in the Spires, KJ Charles (11 April)

Charles branching out from romance into historical Oxford murder mystery about a group of friends with dark secrets.

Audrey Lane Stirs The Pot, Alexis Hall (22 April)

The new Hall thinly veiled british baking show romcom. Libby says it's releasing in April but I've heard nothing from the author so I think it may be Alecto'd (shifted to next year)

Necrobane, Daniel M Ford (23 April)

Sequel to the dungeons and dragons-esque low fantasy lesbian necromancy book.

A Letter to the Luminous Deep, Sylvie Cathrall (25 April)

New to me. Sweet underwater epistolary academic romance.

How To Become the Dark Lord and Die Trying, Django Wexler (21 May)

New to me. A young hero caught in a fantasy time loop gives up and tries being the villain in an attempt to escape.

Goddess of the River, Vaishnavi Patel (21 May)

Another woman-centered retelling of Hindu mythology, this time based on the river goddess Ganga.

Escape Velocity, Victor Manibo (21 May)

New to me. Evil and toxic private school alumni jockey for position in a space hotel event in an attempt to escape a dying Earth.

The Fireborne Blade, Charlotte Bond (28 May)

New to me. Gay dragon slaying knight novella.

Evocation, ST Gibson (28 May)

New to me but looks very cool. Attorney and medium David attempts to escape his deal with the devil with the help of his ex boyfriend and his ex boyfriend's wife (Poly romance).

Service Model, Adrian Tchaikovsky (4 June)

In an SF future, a robot kills its human owners and ventures out into a world where human supremacy is beginning to crumble.

Lady Eve's Last Con, Rebecca Fraimow (4 June)

New to me. A con artist seeks revenge on the man who hurt her sister, who's coincidentally also on a space cruise ship (Sapphic romance subplot).

Triple Sec, TJ Alexander (4 June)

An actual mainstream published poly romance (!!) by trans author Alexander.

Running Close to the Wind, Alexandra Rowland (11 June)

Gay! Pirates! Scheming! Alt fantasy world! Monks! I liked Taste of Gold and Iron a lot and I'm very excited for this one.

The Knife and the Serpent, Tim Pratt (11 June)

New to me. Space opera about an interdimensional organization. Also, there's a sentient starship.

The Witchstone, Henry Neff (18 June)

A childhood favorite of mine's adult debut, featuring a demon who suddenly has to shape up at his curse keeper job after eight hundred years of slacking.

Rakesfall, Vajra Chandrasekera (18 June)

VERY excited to read more weird queer sff from this author after a fantastic debut. Looks weird. I'm in.

Foul Days, Genoveva Dimova (25 June)

New to me. A witch in a Slavic fantasy inspired world flees her evil ex, the Tsar of Monsters. There's also a plague and a detective.

Saints of Storm and Sorrow, Gabriella Buba (25 June)

New to me. Filipino inspired anticolonialist fantasy novel about a nun who is secretly practicing the religion of her goddess.

The Duke at Hazard, KJ Charles (18 July)

A queer regency with an incognito duke by one of my particular favorite romance authors.

Long Live Evil, Sarah Rees Brennan (30 July)

!!! Very excited to see a new adult fantasy by Brennan. A reader is dragged into a fictional world and finds herself the villain.

A Sorceress Comes to Call, T Kingfisher (20 August)

A retelling of The Goose Girl from reliably good fairy tale stalwart Kingfisher.

Buried Deep and Other Stories, Naomi Novik (17 September)

Collection of Novik's short stories.

Swordcrossed, Freya Marske (8 October)

VERY excited to see a new book by talented writer Marske. A man falls in love with the duelist hired for his arranged wedding. MEANWHILE. details of the fantasy world wool industry.

Feast While You Can, Mikaella Clements and Onjuli Datta (29 October)

New to me. Small town queer cave horror.

The Last Hour Between Worlds, Melissa Caruso (19 November)

Multiple reality murder mystery spy vs spy type antics, with lesbians.

#book recommendations #on the tbr #now I would Like to put alecto the ninth on this but as we know. NO news (sobs) #long post #updated 3/8 with more books I've added since I posted this

[angel-of-the-moons]

How would Poe react if you sewed something for him? 👉👈 idk what, something nice or something silly. I think he'd appreciate it and I feel like he might be someone who's always giving gifts to ppl and no one thinks to get him anything.

Made With Love

Poe Dameron x Reader

TW/CW: None! Fluff!

A/N: As someone who sews a lot (sometimes by hand when I need to calm down) this is something I'd totally do askbdlsh

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

You cursed as the needle slipped and pricked your finger, bright blood welling up in a tiny pinprick before you squeezed what your boyfriend designated your "blood-sponge".

It was just a spare chunk of fabric you sterilized every time you began sewing, because stabbing yourself with the thin little metal slivers was always inevitable. You had more callouses from hand-stitching and embroidering than you did working on fixing consoles and electronics.

You were an analyst, not just the person who repaired the much-needed tech for the Resistance.

A battle analyst, statistical analyst, a "tech jockey" some called you--but many simply knew you as Poe's "partner in crime" as you oversaw many of his flight missions and dogfights.

You tied off the last stitch and held the fabric up to the light.

Poe's last scarf had gotten torn to tatters in a cantina brawl; so, the next time you were planetside, you hit a local market and scored some nice fabric to knit him a new one. It was a wonderful pass-time for you, especially if you were stressed out. The repetitive motion of seeing and embroidering soothed your mind enough to relax. Once, Poe had even caught you passed out with a half-patched shirt clutched in your hands, your head lolled back on your chair, the angle making you snore loudly.

Poe actually had BB-8 snap a holo of it. He still says it's his favorite holo he has of you--completely relaxed and at peace. (Although the pain in your neck was awful when he picked you up and laid you in his bunk.)

The scarf you had made Poe this time had the Resistance emblem embroidered in bright colors to match his flight suit, as well as a tiny BB-8 next to it.

Just then, the voice of one of the air traffic monitors buzzes through your comm; "Hey, tech jockey. Your boyfriend's squad is back. If you high-tail it now, you'll be able to make it to the hangar before they land."

You grin and jump to your feet, folding the scarf and stuffing it in one of your deep back pockets as you made a mad scamper, scrambling to lace your boots back up to make your way to the hangar.

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

"Poe!" You giggle excitedly, shouting across the hangar as the mechanics carefully extract BB-8 from Poe's X-Wing.

Poe turns to you with a grin, spreading his arms wide as you throw yourself into them; his thick limbs wrapping around you in a tight hug, picking you up and spinning you around with a very nice welcome-home kiss. May have had a bit too much tongue on his part, but you were just happy to have him back and be in his arms once more.

BB-8 trills at you as he sets you down nudging your leg affectionately, and you reach down to pat the little mech's cranium. "Awww, hey lil buddy! I missed you too!"

Poe grins again and slips an arm around your waist, his dark eyes glimmering mischievously. "So... How's the best analyst in the Resistance been doing since your handsome boyfriend has been doing suuuuper important scout work, eh?"

You roll your eyes and snort. "The usual, you goof. I've actually had a bit more downtime, lately. General Organa actually smacked me on the head and told me to go and get some rest when I overworked myself."

"Oooh, not surprised there. She's scary when you don't do what she says." He snickers, kissing your cheek again. "Anything else?"

You gasp, remembering your present, and fish it out of your fatigues. Poe tilts his head curiously at you, then, as you pull out the scarf.

"Here! I finished it today!" You chirp proudly.

Poe takes the scarf with his eyebrows raised high, holding it up to examine it. He grins when he spots the little bits of embroidery you did for him; BB-8 beeping happily and bumping into your shins affectionately when he spots his likeness in the fabric.

"Do you like it?"

"Like it?" He says, his brow furrowing and his lips pursing tightly. At his expression, you feel a lump of anxiety well up in your throat.

It is quickly quashed when he grins once more, his eyes lighting up as he slips the scarf over his head and hangs it from his neck, flicking the edge over his shoulder and striking a dramatic pose.

"How's it look? C'mon, tell me. Does it bring out my eyes?" He said, waggling his eyebrows. "I bet I can use it as a disguise!"

You clap your hands and laugh, "Poe... How would that even work?! People can still see your face!"

He pulls up the edge of the scarf and covers up the lower half of his face and nose, but you can still see his lips peek out from the fringe.

"Not if I hold it like this!" He says.

You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder playfully, "You're not funny, Flyboy."

"Heyyy! I'm adorable." He argues humorously, wagging his eyebrows once again. "And handsome, and talented, and--"

BB-8 cuts him off with a dismissive trill, tweeting as his antennae bob.

"You're right." You nod at the little astromech. "He is full of himself, too."

Poe clutched his proverbial pearls, gasping in offense at the two of you.

"Ow! Whose side are you on?!"

#🌙 answered #poe dameron #poe dameron star wars #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader

[wol-fica]

-𝐖𝐨𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐞?- 𝐏𝐓𝟐

pairings - wenclair x neglected!daughter!reader

summary - you were born into a family of freaks, and that was the norm for you. but slowly, your interest in your family diminished due to lack of attention towards you. how will you cope?

warnings - none

an - part two for those who were waiting!!

————————

“So wait, you saw Goody? Our grandmother?”

You sighed in annoyance at your brother's tone, your head hanging low as he rambled on about the events that occurred in the café minutes ago. Luka and his friends had watched you bump into a jockey werewolf and then when you apparently fainted; their first reaction was to grab you and bring you to the infirmary, now here you were.

“I already told you.” You said, sipping a cup of water while you flipped through the spell book lazily, “I blacked out, an old house appeared, I saw Goody, and then I woke up here.”

“That sounds familiar…” Luka inquired slowly, gauging your reaction.

Your head turned to him, a murderous glow in your eyes as you glared harshly. You sat up carefully, staring him into a cowered sitting position.

“I am not having visions, I refuse to accept that.” You growled before standing up sharply and walking out of the blaring-white room.

You stormed down the hallway, ignoring Luka’s protests as he jogged behind you. Your mind was racing a mile a minute at the possibilities of you now figuring out that you have visionary powers which were probably inherited from your dear mother; that disgusted you.

“Mamá es va a averiguarla!” Luka said, getting in front of you to stop you from walking away, “Ella no es tonto.”

“Si, ella no es tonto.” You replied, yanking your belongings out of his hands, “Pero tú no decir nada.”

Luka stared at you, almost as a silent game to see if he would actually say something or not. Black eyes challenged bright blue, the quiet contest becoming tedious for both of you as people passed with confused looks on their faces.

Eventually you caved in, looking away with a slump of your shoulders. You couldn’t argue with Luka, he would always wiggle his way to winning any fight, and he would always gloat about it to his friends when you were both younger.

“Luka.” You sighed, slinging your bag over your shoulder and turning your head back up to his gaze, “Please, don’t tell them.”

“Why though?” He pressed, leaning down so he could speak quietly, “You need help.”

“I don’t need anything.” You snarled as you pushed past him, “You need to let me go back to my room.”

“Y/N I know those visions hurt.” Luka tried again, following you up the stairs and towards your dorm room.

You muttered an insult under your breath, swearing to whatever higher power above that you would curse Luka into his early grave for being so persistent with you. His rambling became background noise in your ears as you moved around your room, setting your stuff down and safely tucking the book back under your pillow before stopping to angrily turn back to your brother.

“Listen,” You said, crossing your arms in front of your chest to appear bigger, “These visions, the voices; they are my problem.”

Luka opened his mouth to speak but you shushed him with a hand to say that you weren’t finished.

“You will keep quiet, you won’t tell anybody about the things that are happening to me. Our mothers are busy enough with Louis and Leo AND with planning for parents' weekend in a few days; they don’t need more stress.”

Luka’s eyebrows furrowed, his face scrunching in confusion.

“Y/N, you aren’t a stresser for them.” He said softly, reaching out to put his hands on your shoulders, “They love you.”

“They don’t act like it.” You snapped, shrugging him off and looking away in embarrassment.

To be truthful, you felt very neglected within your family. Between you and your three other siblings, you were seen as the least favorite. Luka, Louis, AND Leo all successfully wolfed out when Luka was 10 and the twins were 7, which prompted a celebration with your large family circle. Everyone came from both sides to congratulate the three of them with gifts and music and dancing. 

Unfortunately for you, barely anyone paid you any attention. The most that anyone said to you was “are you next to wolf out?” or “i’m sorry you didn’t catch up with your brothers” and even “maybe you are defected!”

Emotional demonstration wasn’t your strong point, but when those phrases were said to you, well it hurt. You wanted so badly to fit into the little werewolf circle that was in your home, but you never got the pleasure of getting that trait from your mom. 

Instead you were left with voices in your head and absolutely no special abilities at all. You younger brothers, bless them, would always rub it in that you were quote on quote “defective” and would constantly pick on you for not having the wolfish attributes that they possessed. 

“You don’t know what it’s like.” You started, stepping away from Luka to pace around your room, “I have to wake up everyday to feel like I’m nothing.”

“But you are something!” Luka said, reaching out to grab your hand, “You’re my twin sister-.”

Your eyes went wide and rolled, your head flying backwards at his touch. A loud bell chime again, ringing in your ear as it drowned out all comprehension of the real world. 

Flashes occurred, pictures caught in time as people laughed and talked, then screamed. There was fire, pooling and lapping up at peoples legs as they ran in fear, and at the center of the chaos was…

You. 

What was happening to you?

—————————

taglist: @crystal-lily-101 @tundra1029 @aahdiieb @rainbow-love4ever  @imhungry-andtired @theafterofnevermore @k1mba @simp4thena @thenextdawn @alexkolax @annalestern @efectoangel @fall-08 @littlegaybutterflysblog @sayaisrotten @deep-fried-egg @notheoneforlove @frasersgf

#wolfi writes #wednesday adams imagine #wednesday adams #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x enid sinclair #wednesday x enid #incorrect wednesday quotes #netflix wednesday #wednesday #wednesday 2022 #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams fluff #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday fanfic #wednesday fic #wednesday fluff #wednesday headcanons #wednesday imagine #wednesday netflix #wednesday series #wednesday tv show #wednesday x y/n #wednesdayedit #wednesdaynetflix #wednsday addams #wim series

[sanjoongie]

Carnival Pleasures

🎡My submission for Kvanity fall event

🎡genre/ride: ferris wheel/smut

🎡tropes/events: friends to lovers, set in a small town

🎡Word Count: 1,444

🎡Rating: 18+, MDNI

🎡Pairing: Choi Jongho x Reader (f)

🎡Warnings: acrophobia (fear of heights), public sex, exhibitionism, oral (m), praise kink

🎡Summary: when your best friend refuses to let you go to the carnival alone, your status of ‘just besties’ is about to change because of it

🎡Dedication: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland to whom both beta'd this but also my sunshine helped me flush this idea out with me 🥺

Your eyes couldn't help but continue to be pulled towards your best friend. Jongho had decided, despite it being very much the middle of fall, that he was going to wear a very tight t-shirt while accompanying you to the fair. You had told him you’d happily go alone but he insisted after rattling off a statistic of just how many women get abducted in that same setting.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” You insisted, despite a cotton candy stall distracting you. Your eyes bounce back to the flannel that Jongho had discarded immediately upon arrival.

A small smile pulls at Jongho’s lips. “Quite sure.”

You folded your arms under your chest. “Are you planning on scaring away the kidnappers with your big, strong muscles?” You grumbled.

Jongho tilted his head curiously, “My what?”

You choked and coughed and decided that the carnival game where they spray water into a hole to make tin jockeys and horses move forward was far more interesting. “You know what I mean.”

Jongho shrugged, still grinning. “No, please go on about my big, strong muscles.”

“Whatever, stop teasing me. Can we get this done and then I can reward myself with some deep fried donuts???” You whined.

The entire purpose of going to the fair, other than the fair food, was to challenge your fear of heights. You loved the thrill of a ride but your fear of heights held you back. So you had decided that you were going to attack it head on.

Jongho’s face got serious and he scanned the horizon for what he figured would be a safe place for you to face your fear. “What about the ferris wheel?”

Your stomach churned at the thought of a swinging cart that went up high with nothing obscuring your vision. Your mind swam with movies and shows you had watched where a ferris wheel had come loose. You felt yourself spiraling until Jongho’s fingers dug into your upper arms. 

“Bun, snap out of it.” When Jongho felt your focus back on him, he sighed. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

You stood a little straighter. “Yes. I’m sure, Jongho.”

Jongho let go of you but wiped his face with one hand tiredly. “Okay, let's go then.”

You insisted on paying for the tickets to get on the ferris wheel, despite Jongho’s protests. “This isn’t a date, Jongho,” You insisted brattily, “Besides, you’re helping me. So I’m paying.” By the stubborn set of Jongho’s jaw, you could tell that he didn’t like that but he let it go nonetheless.

The closer you got to the front of the line, the more nervous you became. At first you shifted from foot to foot, but then you started to dig your nails into the palms of your hands to distract yourself. Jongho attempted to keep an eye on you but he didn’t realize you were hurting yourself until he saw you wince as you went from second to first in line. 

“Next up!” The carnival worker shouted and you flinched. 

You and Jongho shuffled up, preparing for the next cart to sweep you off your feet. In the same moment, Jongho grabbed your hand and with a confident grin, you both landed into the cart, the worker securing the part in front of you and off you went. 

“Shit shit shit,” You cursed, feeling your blood drain from your face.

“It’s okay, Bun,” Jongho assured you, squeezing your hand, “I got you.”

You frowned, staring down at your hand in Jongho’s. “When did that happen?”

Jongho grinned, “I’m here for moral support, aren’t I?”

You shook your hand out of his. “Stop teasing me and help!”

Jongho pursed his lips to the side of his face. “I am helping.”

The cart rattled as it stopped to let in another passenger, and you squealed. You half fell towards Jongho, hand bracing yourself on his thigh. You felt Jongho tense under your grip, but you ignored it. This was your best friend, after all. It was probably just a regular reaction. But when the cart jolted to move up again, you squeezed, and this time, Jongho made a noise. Your eyes flew up to meet Jongho’s. The fear was clear on his face, but you knew he wasn’t scared of heights. That was the whole point. So you squeezed his thigh again, and this time, Jongho straight up whined. 

“Jongho?”

Jongho’s features screwed up in worry. “Are you aware of how close your hand is to my dick right now?” You were about to withdraw the offending appendage when Jongho growled at you. “Don’t you dare.”

“You…” You struggled to pick up what Jongho was putting down. “You want my hand to be close to your dick?”

“Why do you think I wore the tightest shirt I owned?” Jongho demanded. In fact, this wasn’t even his t-shirt, he had to borrow one from San. 

“I thought you wanted to scare away the bad mans!” You argued.

“Bun, come on!” Jongho said in anguish.

The ferris wheel continued to spin, slowly but surely. You were starting to get to the top. The gears in your head were turning as well as you tried to chew on this new piece of information. Jongho, your longtime childhood friend, wanted to cross that line. Finally, you said, “How much do you want to help distract me?”

“You know I’d do anything to help you,” Jongho revealed, somewhat huskily.

You reached for the button of his jeans and popped it. When Jongho did absolutely nothing to stop you, you pulled down his zipper next. When Jongho didn’t say for you to stop, you pushed your hand against his growing chub. When Jongho moaned lowly, you pulled him out of the slit of his boxer briefs. Your head descended towards Jongho’s cock, and when he spread his legs and sat back, you knew a green light when you saw it.

“Oh fuck, oh god, oh shit,” Jongho released several curses as you took him in your mouth. You bobbed up and down on him experimentally and didn’t even feel the wheel shift and move forward. You spat on Jongho’s cock, watching the dribble run down his cock and then you began to suck on him again. You’re capable of burying him completely inside of you, but your lips do stretch a bit at his girth. 

“Bun, bun, oh my god Bun, your mouth--” Jongho swallowed loudly, “Your mouth feels so goddamn good.”

Was Jongho, your stoic, witty Jongho, babbling about your mouth around him? You hummed in acknowledgement and he groaned again. “Shit, do that again. Please.”

So you hummed while you sucked your best friend off, somewhere in the back of your mind well aware that this ferris wheel ride would change more than just your fear of heights. You slurped and bobbed, eager to hear all of the soft, desperate noises Jongho would make for you.

Jongho’s hand falls onto the back of your head, a gentle reminder that he’s more than just a cock in your mouth. “Fuck, this is exactly how I dreamt it would be. Your warm mouth on me, treating me right. You’re such a messy sucker too, oh god, I love it so much. You’re so good to me, Bun.”

His breath hitched and you could tell he was getting close. The hand on the back of your head clutched your hair, not looking to pull, but looking for a way to ground himself. “I--I’m gonna cum--wait--don’t dirty your mouth, Bun, wait--WAIT!” 

But it was too late. Jongho shot his load into your mouth and you did everything to swallow it down. He continued to buck into your mouth, murmuring about just how good you were to him until you pulled off of him. 

Jongho’s hand clasped around yours immediately and yanked you towards him for a kiss. You pushed against his chest, well aware that if he kissed you, he’d taste himself. You could feel the chuckles coming from his chest at your resistance. When he broke the kiss, he was smiling, that fond gummy smile you loved so much. “I like it a little dirty too, Bun.”

You shuddered and then realized that the ferris wheel was finally hitting the bottom and moving past the carnival worker. He had a smile on his face like he knew the ferris wheel made new couples every time he helped one sit on the ride. And then your stomach dropped when you realized you weren’t getting off yet.

Jongho noticed and dropped his hand into your lap, squeezing your thigh this time instead. “Ready for another distraction?”

Taglist: @hijirikaww @flurrys-creativity @mingsolo @starlitmark @stardragongalaxy @k-pop-ology

#kwanderlust #kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #ateez smut #choi jongho smut #atz smut #jongho smut #choi jongho x reader #ღatz #topaz's works

[tied-ash]

Danganronpa: Reversed Time (DRDT Opposite AU)

DRRT is the opposite AU of Danganronpa Despair Time! It's basically just all of the characters in DRDT having their opposite personalities - or at least, they're all just wildly out of character.

So ya! Here is everyone, left and right.

Ace Markey - SHSL Jockey Ace is an incredible jockey, having won dozens of awards for his talent... However, people tend to find his lack of response a bit unnerving. Ace seems to have little to no emotion or expression, being neutral in many circumstances.

Veronika Grebenshchikova - SHSL Horror Analyst Veronika Grebenshchikova is constantly looking for the thrill of being scared, leading to her interest in horror fiction. However, upon attempting to share her findings, many of those who are close to her have taken quite the disdain for such topics. So she is less inclined to share anything in terms of horror, embarrassed about her past tendency to get carried away when talking about horror.

Arei Nageishi - SHSL Bowler Arei Nageishi made her debut in the bowling world as a teenager by winning multiple bowling championships. Though she may look cute, she doesn't make any effort to try to impress anyone. With good sportsmanship, many find themselves relating to Arei in some way, especially in the way where she doesn't find a need to constantly integrate with others, and is fine standing off to the side.

Julia Rosales - SHSL Effects Artist Julia Rosales, famously known for being Maribella Rosales's daughter, specializes in theater special effects and has worked on famous musicals and plays in her life. However, many of her notable roles are actually with her mother in movies, even if they do not correspond to her ultimate. There are rumors saying that Julia does not like this line of work, but she and her mother have denied these claims.

Rose Lacroix - SHSL Art Forger As the ultimate art forger, Rose Lacroix is able to paint copies of famous masterpieces that are so realistic that many mistake them for being the real deal. She owes this talent to her photographic memory. However, her memory can also be seen as a curse. Unable to relax, Rose seems to constantly be thinking of something, even if that something is unpleasant. She can often be seen trying to keep herself busy, as if she's trying to not think, but failing.

Alexander Matthews - SHSL Rebel Despite his looks, Alexander is very passionate about what he does. He earned his ultimate by constantly projecting his voice against what he deemed as wrong, often breaking the status quo. However, his passion has a habit of going south, as he gets angry with many people. Just know that if his jacket goes around his waist, he truly means business.

Levi Fontana - SHSL Personal Stylist His appearance may be intimidating, and good for reason. Levi Fontana is not afraid to say what is on his mind, even if the ways he says it are unprofessional. Her goals seem to differ from day to day, but he likely does have good intentions, even if the ways he does these are a bit... unconventional.

Teruko Tawaki - SHSL Lucky Student The protagonist. Despite being the ultimate Lucky Student, it seems like the only luck Teruko has is bad luck. Accidents constantly plague Teruko and those around her. Despite this, Teruko holds a strong trust for many people around her, trying to find the best in people. Sometimes, she even tries to justify people's wrongdoings, especially for her peers.

Hu Jing - SHSL Zither Player Hu Jing is an incredibly talented musician who specializes in the zither. It's said that whenever she plays, she can bring tears to those even the most unemotional. However, it's not like many have had the opportunity to hear such a song, as Hu is an incredibly cruel person. Having unknown motivations, she seems to love bringing people to their worst. Hu possesses a very nagging personality, and once she sees a target, it's hard for her to let go.

Charles Cuevas - SHSL Chemist There's no doubt that Charles Cuevas is very educated and talented in his field of study. However, he does not see that as an excuse to be cruel or superior to others. He is incredibly patient with others, being the perfect teacher. It's said that if he gives you a lesson, then you can understand the material within the night. Some do complain that he can be a bit condescending, but very few feel this way.

Arturo Giles - SHSL Plastic Surgeon Arturo Giles is a plastic surgeon who specializes in cosmetic surgery. Despite this, he is a very caring person who doesn't seem to see the difference between ugly and beautiful. If he does then he simply does not show it. Seeing nearly everyone as equals, it's been said that he sugarcoats things to a concerning degree, especially if others would call the person in question "ugly".

Eden Tobisa - SHSL Clockmaker Tired and sarcastic, Eden is seen as a rather unapproachable clockmaker. Though she is increasingly skilled in her work, she seems to dislike customer interaction and avoids it as much as possible. Instead, she gets absorbed into her work, avoiding interaction as much as possible. Eden is rarely ever emotional, relying on logic much more than necessary. However, it still has it's payoff, doesn't it?

Min Jing - SHSL Student One of the top performers, Min has rightfully earned her title as the ultimate student. Or, that's what the public seems to think. However, much of her talent actually relies on last-minute preparations. Despite this, Min truly knows what she's talking about; she just focuses on the main ideas rather than individual points.

Whit Young - SHSL Matchmaker It's easy to mistake Whit for anything else aside from a matchmaker. Trying to make light of things and crack jokes, he often finds little to no positive responses. Because of this, he seems to have a severe lack of confidence, often second-guessing himself. Oddly enough, this guaranteed even more success for his clients, seeing as how he found a need to back his claims with facts instead of focusing on his intuition.

David Chiem - SHSL Motivational Speaker David is a motivational speaker who has motivated many people with his speeches. As one would expect, David is very optimistic about just about anything. Though many people suspect him to be very pessimistic and lazy, many sources prove this to be wrong. However, more rumors seem to have popped up, claiming David to be more self-absorbed than he let on. Just like the past rumors, these claims are unreliable.

Nico Hakobyan - SHSL Pet Therapist As the ultimate pet therapist, Nico possesses an incredible ability to work with animals, working with their owners to grow a stronger bond. Nico loves their job and especially loves seeing how happy the owners can become. They seem great with customers, striking up friendly conversations with them. However, looking beyond the surface, it seems that sometimes Nico has never heard of the word "enough".

MonoTV A strange robot with a television for a head. MonoTV is the mascot and "host" for a strange TV show called "Danganronpa: Despair Time". It makes sure that people know it's in charge, being oddly responsible and almost acting like a "parent" to the more chaotic cast members. Also, it claims to be a cat, despite having an appearance more like a dog.

#digital art #art #danganronpa despair time #fanganronpa #drdt #danganronpa #ace markey #veronika grebenshchikova #arei nageishi #julia rosales #rose lacroix #alexander matthews #levi fontana #teruko tawaki #hu jing #charles cuevas #arturo giles #eden tobisa #min jeung #whit young #david chiem #nico hakobyan #alternate universe #au #drdt au #drrt

[vee-beeee]

Book Jockey

HELLO

This is totally based off a quote from parks and rec

this is def a crack fic

Premise: Basically, your worst enemy works at the library and you need to check something out for a case.

Connor and Nines are VERY confused, but they've got the spirit

Warnings: curse words lol, being a little mischievous, paper book libraries exist and Connor and Nines cant pull everything from the internet sometimes because i say so, a lil half-assed plot in here

Connor and Nines x reader

╰┈➤---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Detective, why are you hitting your head on the steering wheel?"

You sighed and turned your face -that had previously been smushed on your vehicles steering wheel- to look vacantly at Connor. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, and he was leaning forward slightly to look you in the eyes. You groaned and sat up fully, pushing yourself further into the seat, and grabbing some strands of your hair to stare at them instead of the android.

"I just don't like this library Connor." you closed your eyes, dropping the strand of hair, and you could almost hear his confusion from next to you.

"I thought you enjoyed libraries detective" a firm voice from the back of your car made itself known and you opened your eyes to gaze out on the dreaded building.

"I usually do Nines, but someone who works here absolutely sucks." out of the corner of your eyes Connor nodded his head, and then he turned to ask you a question that you never thought you would here out of his mouth.

"Like Detective Reed levels?"

You chocked and whipped your head to look at the android in shock, while he gave you a small smile. You beamed back at him and rolled your eyes away from him "Think even worse". Connor's smile faded as he winced and turned to look at Nines, who gave him a half-hearted shrug, turning to stare at the back of your head. Finally you sighed and started unlocking the doors.

"In and out. No eye contact, no distractions" you breathed, and looked at the boys. Connor gave you a sympathetic look and nodded, while Nines gave you a steely gaze and said nothing. Connor turned to look out the front window of the car, and started giving your group a rundown of this little mission.

"We're just here for that disc, it contains information invaluable to the case" you inclined your head towards Connor, and noticed his LED silently flashed when he looked at his counterpart. They exchanged a brief glance, and then you were out of the car and on your way to the library.

You wonder what they said. Sometimes their telepathic communication was unfair.

(They were talking about being as quick as possible and helping you get through this, but Nines would kill Connor if they spoke like that out loud)

As you slowly reached the front door, you looked through the glass and sure enough

standing right in the middle of everything at the check-out counter

was your worst nightmare.

And so, like a normal person that wasn't afraid, you spun a full 180 degrees and started to walk away.

"Actually I changed my mind. We can find the info somewhere else."

Connor immediately called after you and grabbed your elbow, effectively stopping you from going anywhere with his impressive strength. He turned you around, and forced you to look in his eyes.

"It'll be okay detective. We'll both be in there with you-" he paused and looked at Nines, whose LED flashed yellow and red as the next words came out of Connor's mouth "-we could always just us do it ourselves, but it would look a little weird. 2 androids looking at books" he chuckled and scanned at your face, trying to read your body language.

As soon as Connor said himself and Nines could go in there alone, you felt a pang of guilt. Placing both hands on your chest, you deeply inhaled before exhaling. Connor moved the hand that was on your elbow to rub gently on your back, and you looked at both the boys telling yourself more than them,

"I can do this."

Then you were bursting through the doors!

Annnnddd then immediately ducking down a random isle to avoid being seen.

Connor sought out and greeted the nearest employee, (who seemed very annoyed at the sight of him) and started to try and chat up the elderly women on where their video section was. You leaned against a bookshelf and sighed once more, closing your eyes. You listened to the RK800 talk to the woman, trying to pay attention to where you would be heading.

And then a hand was reaching out to yours.

And holding your pinky finger.

Eyes fluttering open, you slightly turned to your right and saw Nines waiting with you, eyes staring at a random book on the shelf as he silently caressed your fingers with his own.

You gently took one of his digits in your hand and squeezed a couple times, copying him by gazing at the rows of books in front of you.

He squeezed back.

Eventually Connor finished his conversation and made his way to your little pair, and informed you both were the old archives were. You smiled at him, thankful that he had some people skills out of the lot of you, and you all swiftly set off into the basement of the library, making sure to not be seen by that dreaded employee.

You all took the elevator down to the basement, and started your search for this precious disc. As you were looking through one old box, slightly coughing from the dust and grime that had built up, you felt a presence next to you.

"Is there a particular reason why you despise that women?" Connor came up next to your form and started digging into the bin adjacent to yours. You shook your head as you started to explain to him.

"She actually used to work at the DPD. She was always annoyed at me, and even complained to Fowler about me multiple times. She just had it out for me." you brought a hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your head and took a glance at Connor, whose LED was fully yellow. He tilted his head as he looked, a gesture that was meant to convey he was listening, and you continued with your story.

"Then one day she filed a serious accusation against me, saying I messed up some important paper work. It wasn't true, but I still got in trouble at first. They eventually found out it was her that tampered with it and she was fired, but she sure went out with a bang. Then I heard she started working at this library and I've avoided it every since." You felt Connor staring at you, but you couldn't meet his gaze. The memory of her screeching at you brought you down, and you shut the lid of the box you were looking though with a small slam.

And then a body was wrapped around you.

"I'm sorry Y/N. I wish I could fix it, but the best we can do is get out of here quickly."

You nodded at his words, sighing as you wrapped your hands around his own and basked in the comfort he provided you.

After almost 5 more minutes of digging through dusty CDS and old news papers, Nines had been the one that found the disc you were looking for. Crowding around him, you and Connor shared a glance over Nines back as the android read out the title of the disc and its contents.

"That's the disc alright" you muttered, looking at both boys. Connor straightened his tie and looked away from you, and guiltily gazed around the room.

"We need to check it out."

Ohhh, that's what you forgot about.

You looked at both RK units, who shared a sympathetic look, and you exhaled, grabbing the disc from Nines and slowly trudging towards the elevator to the top floor.

It needed to be you to do it.

It was a longggg elevator ride.

You had told both boys that you understood and it was okay, but Connor still apologized. His explanation was that only you could use your library card (because you were a human, they weren't used to androids checking books out yet) and they wished they could do it for you. You had sighed at the explanation, remembering that androids still had a few restrictions.

Which was garbage.

When the doors were open, you were meet by the sight of that lady sitting at the center desk, blissfully unaware of who was marching towards her. Reaching the desk, you took a breathe.

"I need to check this out please" your voice wavered, but you held firm as you slid the disc over to the person at the desk.

As she tilted her head up, surprise bloomed over her features, and she scanned you head to toe before smiling smugly in recognition.

"Oh y/n, so good to see you. Are they finally teaching your department how to read?"

The world went quiet and you heard Nines slight scoff, but was hidden under a cough, and Connor was instantly at your back. If that lady saw the reaction, she didn't say anything and just continued staring into your soul with a huge smirk.

She continued her work and hummed as she checked out the disc, turning to her computer before clicking around a minute.

And then she grinned, and evil expression. And you knew she was planning something.

"I'm sorry, but this says you have a couple overdue books." immediately your eyebrows raised, and your face morphed into one of skepticism.

You always returned your books on time.

Your boys knew this, and took a chance to glance at each other with confusion.

"One of those books seems to be titled MYSTERYS OF THE MALE BODY" her voice slowly raising as she read out the name of this secret mystical book that was overdue. Your mouth fell open, basically hitting the ground, and you felt Connor grab your hand. Nines was at your side, and sharply glaring at the lady.

You made a decision in that moment.

"RUN GUYS RUN GRAB THE DISC GO GO" you yelled, knocking over a couple books that sat on the counter as the librarian protested, quickly standing up in her chair in shock. Nines instantly understood and grabbed the disc and also took ahold of a confused Connor, you three making a made dash to the door. Connor started yelling "we'll return it" as you and Nines grabbed your accomplice.

And then you saw a cart, filled with books waiting to be put on the shelves.

Looking very tippable

You ran over to it and shoved it over as hard as you could, screaming

"PUNK ASS BOOK JOCKEYS"

Your group burst through the doors, hearing the beeping of the security system and ran all across the parking lot to the way to the car, where Connor slid into the drivers seat and instantly took off.

You were breathless and beaming, chuckling to yourself.

Connor and Nines joined in on your giggling, everyone a little in shock at the little stunt you pulled.

You felt a tap on your shoulder, and Nines was giving you a small smile

"Punk ass book jockeys?"

And then Connor was laughing again, combing a hand through his hair.

So the trip went pretty well. You got the disc after all.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

HII HOPE YOU ENJOYED READING

This is literally based off a qoute LOL

sorry for spelling errors and plot holesss as always

also im not sure how i feel about the whole plot with the angry librarian but oh well

#dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #dbh rk800 #detroit become human #dbh nines #dbh rk900 #dbh rk900 x reader #dbh hank

[owlespresso]

Soulmate AU but having both Leander and Ais as your soulmates. How do u feel about becoming a chew toy for two dudes who nearly can't stand each other. Bonus points if it's one of those AUs where you get extra benefits from being in your soulmate's proximity... or like... add in ABO. It's honestly cliche but give me small omega reader who is thoroughly annoyed with the two alphas jockeying for their attention.

Even better if MC is hiding the fact that they're an omega. Even better if they hide any sign that they have a soulmate, let alone two. For this let's say... soulmates just have their names on each other's bodies, but MC goes by an alias.

Consummate fuckman Leander with a reputation for fucking everything that spreads his legs for him suddenly starting to court a scraggly little newcomer who seems less than interested him. Why would such a popular and obviously high-value alpha bother sniffing around some beta who isn't even acknowledging him? His usual lays are stunned at being so quickly dropped.

Meanwhile he's busy furnishing you with the best fineries his money and influence can buy. It's not only because he wants to get in between your legs—how could you think so little of him? He genuinely wants to make a connection! (And it certainly has nothing to do with those cursed hands of yours, no sir!) He wants to see you safe and happy, which is why you should listen to him when he rattles off a list of dangerous individuals you should avoid (Ais's name is on the list twice.)

And honestly, he's quite vexed by the innate pull he feels towards you. It's because of your power, he reasons. You're a real treasure,

As frustrated as you might be by his chivalric front, you're just glad he doesn't know who exactly you are. The lore around soulmates is rich and deep. Mages in connection with theirs are often said to reap a series of benefits related to their magical capabilities. Who knows what Leander, with all his power and connections, would do if he knew who you truly were to him?

#touchstarved talkin

[chaostheoryy]

Wedding Crashers [Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X GN!Reader]

Summary: As one of Bradley’s most treasured companions from his early Navy days, you’ve been lucky enough to find yourself at his side more and more. However, no amount of caffeine-fueled rendezvous and shameless fun prepares you for the moment he asks you to be his plus one at Maverick’s wedding.

Rating: Teen+

Warnings: Cursing, alcohol consumption, (spoilers!) a heated make out session, and implied sexual encounters

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: Man, oh man. This one sure got out of hand. Did I intend to write this much? Absolutely not. But I am just a slave to the feral little writer in my head and they said they needed more. I’m also tempted to pull a Crawlin’ Back to You and create a NSFW sequel like I did for Cobb Vanth so we’ll see what the people have to say...(No beta as usual. Just me, myself, and the feral little voice in my head.)

“How would you feel about crashing Mav’s wedding?”

Now there’s a question you weren’t expecting to hear at nine in the morning.

Ever since Bradley made the decision to stay in San Diego after the big mission that reunited him with his surrogate uncle, the two of you have been meeting for coffee at Ferry Landing every Sunday. It started as an accident, really—you bumped into each other one morning, not realizing the other person was still in town and decided to catch up over lattes and pastries. It’s not every day that you get a chance to rekindle a friendship from your Navy days. Especially when that friendship is with one of the best pilots that has ever graced North Island’s runway.

You stare blankly at him for a moment as you process his inquiry. “You’re joking.”

“Mmm…” He narrows his eyes, tilting his head and biting his lip in faux deliberation. “I wish I was. But no. I am not sitting through a long, boring and ridiculously outdated ceremony by myself.”

“Bradley, you’re his best man. You’re gonna be right up there with him!”

He groans. “I know! I just—Please. Don’t make me brave this one alone. I’ve gotta stand in front of a hundred-plus people in matching suit and tie with a bunch of dudes I barely know. Then what? Have drinks with Mav’s crotchety old Navy friends?”

“He’s not a grandpa, dummy.”

“Good point. Now that you mention it, I’d probably be more excited to share a beer with a group of grandfathers than those geeze—Ow!”

A quick jab of your fist against his shoulder silences whatever other bratty comments he has sitting on the back burner.

“Fine,” you say with a pointed glare. “If it’ll get you to stop whining, I’ll go.”

His face lights up like night sky. You can tell he tries to hide it, but it’s harder for him to contain his youthful jubilance than it is for Top Gun cockpit jockeys to keep it in their pants. “Really?”

“Yes. But you owe me. Big time.”

“Okay. Yeah. Great. Whatever you want!”

His arms ensnare you in a rib-crunching hug. All the air is sucked out of your lungs and, for a split second, your feet clear the earth from the sheer force of his embrace. If it wasn’t for the fact that you placed your drink on the railing of the rickety wooden pier, you’d be coated in a blend of espresso and hot milk by now.

“Jesus, Bradley,” you groan as he places you back down, “I didn’t know the idea of getting stuck at a wedding was such a fucking nightmare.”

“Hey, getting shot down in an F-18 after blowing up an unsanctioned enemy uranium enrichment plant can really change your perspective on things.”

You scoff. “Right. I’ll be sure to squeeze that into my schedule next week so I can understand where you’re coming from a little bit better.”

“If that’s what it takes for you to get me,” he replies with a crooked smirk.

An agreeable lull settles over the conversation as you both look out at the bay. With crisp waters backdropped by the San Diego skyline and impossibly blue, cloudless skies, it’s a view you’ll never cease to enjoy. Having Bradley at your side to soak it in with you makes it all the more surreal.

“Why me?” It’s a valid question, one that’s been bugging you from the moment he asked you to go with him.

His face contorts into an almost painful expression of bewilderment. “What do you mean, why you?”

“I mean, why are you asking me to be your plus one. You’re basically an A-list celebrity around here and I’m sure there’s an astronomic number of people who’d be thrilled to go with you. I’m just saying, I don’t see why I’d be the first person you wanna ask.”

“Okay, first off, I’m C-list at best. Secondly, who said you were the first?”

As calm, cool and collected as you try to be about the situation, it’s impossible to keep all of your emotion locked up in a box. Your face falls at his remark.

“Oh. That’s—Yeah. No. You’re right. I don’t know why I thought—“

The flat, almost unreadable look he’s been giving you vanishes in an instant. A humongous grin stretches out from ear to ear in its place. “Hey. I’m kidding. Of course you’re the first! Who else would I wanna ask? Natasha? Hangman?”

You both cringe at the very mention of Jake Seresin’s call sign. Never in your life have you met a more unbearably cocky person. And you only spent thirty minutes in a room with the guy. You can’t imagine just how insufferable he is up in the air.

“Seriously,” he adds as his hand finds a resting place between your shoulder blades, “I’m asking you because I want to. Because I can’t think of a better person to crash a wedding with.”

At this point, you’re not sure if you’re blushing or not. And frankly, you can’t blame yourself if you are. You’ve always known that the bond the two of you share runs deep, but a part of you has always hesitated to believe that you actually play a significant role in his life. Why would you? He’s Bradley fucking Bradshaw. And you’re…Well, you.

But apparently being you is enough.

You grin. “Well, consider me your wingman.”

The gleeful twinkle in his eye shines even brighter at your response. You don’t know how it’s possible, but somehow this spunky golden retriever of a man manages it. “You’re my wingman? Nah, fuck that bullshit. I’m yours, sweetheart.”

***

The day of the wedding comes much faster than you expected. It seems like just yesterday that Bradley was asking you to be his plus one but somehow that’s a whole month and a half ago now. Time is the universe’s most nefarious trickster.

You’ve spent far too much time trying to figure out what you want to wear. Weddings aren’t exactly your forte, especially having spent most of your time surrounded by military brats who, between the toxic masculine mindset and the constant anxiety of being one phone call away from a suicide mission, are afraid of commitment. Getting invited to a wedding by one of your former Navy buddies is about as likely as a thunderstorm in San Diego.

But hey, you’ve managed to pull something nice together for this shindig. It’s not Tom Ford or Louis Vuitton nice but it’s still quite the look. The outfit hugs all the right places and is undeniably flattering. And, if you’re being honest with yourself, it leaves very little up to the imagination in certain parts of your body. Who can complain about turning a few heads because their ass looks good?

“Holy shit,” Bradley gawks as he watches you descend the steps into the parking lot of your apartment complex. “You look amazing.”

Yeah, can’t help but blush at that.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Bradshaw,” you reply with a coy smile.

Dressed in a sharp, black tuxedo, he looks incredible. How a man who is a ten on even his worst days manages to get even more attractive is beyond you. 

“I clean up when I want to,” he says proudly.

“I can tell.”

He gives you a once over, soaking in every detail of your outfit. When his eyes trace over the more…personal aspects of your figure, he makes no effort to hide it. He’s looking and he wants you to know it.

Despite the butterflies in your stomach and the color in your cheeks, you manage to play it cool and roll your eyes. “Alright, would you quit checking me out and get in the damn car? You can’t crash a wedding if you don’t actually go to it.”

He smirks at your flustered diversion but turns to pry open the passenger door of his Jeep. “After you, my dear.”

Once you climb in and he shuts the door behind you, he circles around to hop in the driver’s seat. Rather than start the car, however, he turns to you and holds his hand out, palm up as if waiting to receive something.

You eye him quizzically. “What?”

“Where’s my tip?”

“Your tip?”

He fakes offense. “Uh, yeah! You really expect me to chauffeur your ass across town and provide unbeatable, gentlemanly service, and you’re not going to tip me?”

“Oh my gosh, you’re right. I’m so sorry. Hold on.” You pat your lap and hips, pretending to search your person for a wallet. “Ah-ha! Here it is. For you, my good sir.”

You give him the middle finger with both hands.

He barks out a laugh and nods enthusiastically. “Fair enough,” he says as he starts the engine. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand. Next stop: holy matrimony.”

***

Though the ceremony itself is far from exciting, the venue is stunning. Maverick, being Maverick, managed to work some magic and secured the entirety of Harbor Island Park for the big day. With the San Diego skyline to the east and North Island directly across the bay, it’s the perfect spot for the occasion.

The entire time vows are being exchanged, your eyes wander to the groomsmen standing behind Maverick. Standing up there with a big smile on his face and admiration in his eyes, Bradley watches as his father’s best friend finally gets to say “I do.” 

Every now and then, he steals a glance your way. You lock eyes, share the tiniest grin, and both end up biting your lips to keep from drawing attention to yourselves. 

Though you won’t admit it, there’s another, less innocent reason you have to avert your eyes so quickly each time. Yes, this is Maverick’s big day and he is glowing up there with Penny’s hands in his. But, as much as it drives you crazy to even think about, there’s another man stealing the spotlight with his broad shoulders and bright eyes. The more you look at him, the harder it gets to look away. And man, would it be a treat to see all that Bradley Bradshaw has to offer.

***

The dinner is exceptional. And not just because it’s being held in a waterfront restaurant with floor to ceiling windows that overlook the harbor. While you’re no wedding food aficionado, you’re pretty certain that this is the best meal you could possibly ask for at such an event. It tastes like heaven and the preparation is infuriatingly impeccable. Honestly, who the hell takes the time to make little sauce flowers on the plate of every single guest? It should be illegal.

You’re sitting alone at the reception table while Bradley fetches you both another glass of champagne when you hear a vaguely familiar voice utter your name. It sounds strange. Not in an uncomfortable way, but in a “I know you so well even though you and I have never met” kind of way.

Sure enough, you find yourself looking up into the impossibly hopeful eyes of Pete Mitchell. Though you and Bradley have known each other for years and have spent a lot of time together in recent months, you have never once gotten the chance to meet the man behind so many of your friend’s life stories. Guess it was only a matter of time. You are at his wedding, after all.

Clambering to your feet, you instinctively raise your arm to salute him. “Captain Mitchell. Sir. It’s an honor.”

With a chuckle, he reaches out and grabs your arm, lowering it back down to your side. “Please,” he says. “The only time anyone seems to call me Captain Mitchell around here is when I’m getting reprimanded. Maverick is fine. Or Mav, if you wanna save yourself a couple syllables.”

“In that case, it’s nice to meet you, Maverick. I hope you don’t mind me being here.”

“Not at all,” he beams—his smile is ludicrously bright and charming in a way that almost makes you nervous to be on the receiving end. “I was actually hoping I’d get the chance to introduce myself sooner or later.“

You blink. Now that’s a statement you weren’t expecting to hear. “Really?”

“Of course! I’ve been eager to meet the person Bradley speaks so highly of.”

“He’s mentioned me?”

Maverick laughs again. “Once or twice,” he replies. “And by once or twice, I mean you’re just about all he talks about whenever we catch up.”

There’s definitely color in your cheeks now. It shouldn’t be a surprise. Seriously. Of course he’s mentioned you. You’re someone he spends a lot of time around. At the very least, he’s shared a story or two with Maverick about your caffeine-fueled Sunday shenanigans or late night phone calls.

“Hey, Mav.”

Both you and Maverick find yourselves turning sharply at the sound of Bradley’s voice. Just as expected, he’s got a glass of champagne in each hand. He hands you one and places the other on the table next to you before giving Maverick a tight hug.

“Thank you for coming, Bradley,” Maverick says as he clings to the fabric at Bradley’s shoulder.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

When they separate, the two exchange gentle smiles. There’s so much admiration in their eyes—the kind of admiration that only comes from shared experience and years of devotion. Bradley may not be his son, but it’s clear that Maverick would do everything in his power to protect him.

“I see the two of you have finally met,” Bradley notes as he snags his glass from the table.

“That’s right,” Maverick says.

Bradley’s eyes jump between the two of you. “And?”

“And we were just discussing how nice it is to put a face to the name after all these years,” you explain. A smirk pricks at the edge of your lip. “Especially since you seem to spend a lot of time gushing about me to poor Maverick here.”

Never before have you seen Bradley Bradshaw grow that red, that fast. Whatever supplier he gets his daily dose of confidence from has apparently gone out of business because the signature Rooster smile that you’ve grown accustom to seeing flees his face faster than a supersonic jet. He’s embarrassed. Scandalized, even.

He’s never looked cuter.

“Great. So glad you two are getting along,” Bradley mutters. “I’m gonna take that as I sign that I need to spend a little more time at the bar.”

He slinks back a step and is about to turn and head away but Maverick intercepts him with a hand on the shoulder. “Hey, hey, hey. Relax. I’ll get out of your hair. The groom’s gotta make rounds and say hi to everybody before people start getting too drunk or too bored to stick around.”

Maverick yanks Bradley into another hug, then turns to smile at you. 

“It was nice meeting you, Maverick,” You say as offer your hand, assuming he intends to shake it.

To your surprise, however, he doesn’t take it. Instead, he wraps you up in his arms and gives you a hug. You nearly melt. To be welcomed so wholly by the person who means more to Bradley than anything in the world is something you can’t possibly take for granted.

When he releases you, he lets his hand rest on your shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon. In the meantime, keep an eye on this son of a bitch for me, would ya? He’s trouble.”

The ear to ear grin that finds your lips threatens to crack your face wide open. “Yeah, I know,” you reply. “That’s kinda why I keep him around.”

“Good. Now, you two go have fun!”

You watch for a moment as Maverick strolls over to the next table and shakes hands with another pair of guests. When Bradley clears his throat, you turn your attention back to him. There’s still a faint pink tint in his cheeks but overall, the chagrin that had stricken him during the conversation with Maverick appears to a have diminished.

“So…?”

The puzzled expression on his face is almost too amusing for you to hold in a chuckle. “So, what?”

“So, what’s the play for the remainder of the evening? Surely you don’t plan on sitting at an over-decorated banquet table all night.”

“Absolutely not. I’d rather suck Hangman’s dick.”

“Gross.”

“Exactly.” He takes a massive gulp of champagne and unbuttons his suit jacket to loosen up. “The plan is: get trashed to the point where the floor becomes the ceiling and the walls are made of liquid, then—without a single sober brain cell left to hold me back—embarrass the ever-loving fuck out of myself by tearing the dance floor to shreds.”

You bark out a laugh. “I really hope you aren’t expecting me to do the same.”

“C’mon. You’re really gonna ride the bench while I carry Team Wedding Crasher to the championship?”

You consider his words for a moment. As much as you detest the idea of making a fool out of yourself in front of several dozen well-dressed strangers, you find the sheer possibility of disappointing Bradley to be even worse. Besides, life’s too short to give a shit about what a bunch of middle-aged Navy officers think of you.

“Alright, wingman,” you declare with a smirk. “Let’s give ‘em hell.”

***

Hell hath risen. 

Not for the partygoers, of course. The devil spares their innocent souls this round. Instead, you and Bradley have found yourselves consumed by the cursed flames of alcohol’s aftermath. The drunk bliss you’ve enjoyed for the past few hours has faded, leaving behind a brutal malady of headaches and nausea. So here you are, kneeling on the tiles of an upscale restaurant bathroom with your head in the toilet.

“You alright in there?” Bradley asks from the other side of the door.

The groan you utter in response is far cry from conveying a coherent thought, but he takes it as an answer nonetheless. He pushes open the door—which, bless your drunken ass for being too lazy to lock it—and crouches down next to you. A gentle hand begins rubbing your back.

“How you feelin’?”

“Never better,” you manage to grumble as you lay your head on the arm you’ve draped across the toilet seat. “How ‘bout you?”

“I feel like dog shit.”

“Great.”

He chuckles and takes hold of your forearms to help you to your feet. “Let’s free up the bathroom and go get some air.”

Clinging to his arm like a frail, old grandparent, the two of you make your way outside. The earth isn’t swaying anymore but man, your legs want absolutely nothing to do with getting your body from point A to point B. Thankfully, Bradley seems to have enough mental and physical strength for the both of you.

A short walk down the path that lines the rocky shoreline later, you find yourselves back at the park where the wedding ceremony had been held earlier that evening. All the chairs and decorations are gone. The only sign of celebration that remains are a few pink and white flower petals nestled in the grass.

Bradley helps you ease yourself down on one of the waterfront benches before taking a seat next to you. With his bowtie undone and his hair disheveled, he looks far less put together than the man who’d stolen glances at you during the ceremony and yet, he still maintains that aura of charm that makes it impossible for you not to swoon.

“How are you so put together?” You ask. “I’m pretty sure you had twice as much to drink as I did and I’m the one getting pried off the bathroom floor.”

He smirks. “Guess I’m just that tough.”

The flat, unamused look on your face must communicate your disbelief perfectly because he chuckles and runs a hand through his hair.

“I’m kidding,” he adds. “Pretty sure I’m going to go full Exorcist on my bathroom the second I get home.”

“That’s hot.”

You both laugh.

A pleasant silence falls over the bench as you both look out at the water. Reflections of the city lights dance across the waves like sea-bound stars. The gentle breeze that kisses your skin brings with it a comforting chill that perfectly balances out the discomforting heat of your impending hangover. You still feel like crap but it turns out a beautiful view works wonders when it comes to distracting a person from suffering.

After a moment, you dare to peer at Bradley from the corner of your eye. He looks so at peace. There’s the tiniest smile lingering at his mouth and the way his attention is torn from the bay every time a plane flies overhead reminds you of the unbreakable optimism of a child. How can a man so handsome and resolute be so gentle? How can that gentleness be a privilege you’ve become so familiar with?

“Thank you.”

He’s not looking at you when he says it, but you tear your eyes from his face as if you’ve been caught anyway.

“For what?” You ask.

“For coming with me tonight. I know weddings aren’t the most exciting thing in the world, but it means a lot to me that you came anyway.”

You study his expression closely. It’s hard to place your finger on why, but you get the sense that he genuinely hadn’t expected you to say yes. 

“I’m glad you asked me,” you admit quietly.

He turns his head to look at you. “Really?”

You nod.

“Good.” He exhales. The blissful smile on his face curls into something more playful. “I was worried you might regret the whole thing after I peeled you off the dance floor.”

“Y’know what? That blonde bitch is lucky I was too hammered to tussle. If I were sober enough to plot my revenge, I would’ve snapped the heel off one of her stilettos and watched her stumble into the dessert table. I mean, c’mon! Who trips a person throwing it back to Lady Gaga?”

“That should be a federal offense.”

“Seriously!”

There’s another lull in the conversation. It’s not a bad thing by any means, but it definitely makes you wonder what is going on inside the man’s head. He may not be as outspoken as other Navy pilots like Hangman, but he certainly isn’t shy either.

“There’s one thing I’m disappointed I didn’t get to do tonight though.”

You raise your brow at the comment. “What’s that?”

“I never got the chance to ask you to dance.”

“What are you talking about?” A huff of laughter rolls off your tongue. “We literally just spent the last two hours dancing!”

He considers your reply. “Yeah, that’s not quite the dancing I’m talking about.”

Oh.

Oh.

You blink. With your jaw hanging loose from its hinges and your eyes wide, you must look like a grade-A idiot.

“You…Wanted to slow dance with me?”

“Is that really such a surprise?”

And just like that, your cheeks are turning red and whatever hope you had for staying calm, cool and collected about the whole thing has skipped town. 

“N-no!” You stammer. “Well, yes. But it shouldn’t be. I mean, you asked me to be your plus one at a wedding so I really shouldn’t be shocked. That’s kinda the whole point of plus ones, right? I guess I just never expected you to actually want me to be that kind of plus one. And I know that probably makes zero sense now that I say that out loud but it’s just—“

“Hey.”

The remainder of your blabbering monologue dies on your tongue when he reaches over to cup your jaw in his hand. His fingertips caress the delicate skin just below your ear while his thumb strokes your cheek with timid curiosity. 

There it is. That sweet-tempered charisma that you’ve been so fascinated by. Oh, what a privilege. What a dangerously addictive privilege to be on the receiving end of such an unrivaled indulgence.

“Bradley,” you exhale. 

You don’t know why you say his name. You don’t even know why you say anything at all. It just sort of slips out, as if you’ve been holding it in all night. And the way his pupils dilate ever so slightly as your voice floats into his ear makes it clear that he’s been waiting just as long to hear you say it.

He’s staring at your lips now. It’s painfully obvious and he doesn’t give a damn. He’s telling you exactly what he wants without uttering a single word. As if to seal a letter of his desire, the thumb on your cheek glides over to brush the corner of your mouth.

The beating of your heart is deafening. Sure, the sound of the waves colliding with the rocks just a few steps away is irritatingly loud but they sound like they’re a mile away in comparison to the thudding in your ear. What you would give to tune it all out right now.

Fearful that he’ll take your silence as an indication that he’s crossed a boundary, you lean into his hand and kiss the pad of his thumb. His breath catches in his throat. The fingers at your jaw twitch. His thumb, now pressed to the center of your mouth, traces your bottom lip with the measured stroke of an artist smearing paint across his canvas. Never before have you felt so delightfully fragile.

“Fuck,” he whispers with the desperation of a man forced to sin. “You have no idea how bad I want to kiss you right now…”

You nearly choke on the lump in your throat. A reply lingers in the back of your mind: then why don’t you? But, as if he can hear your every thought, he answers before the question can breach your vocal cords.

His tongue dips out to wet his lips. “But I know if I do, I might not ever want to stop.”

Just like that, the sense of helplessness that you’ve been feeling gives way to unrestrained desire. You want this. You need this. You don’t even know what this is but you aren’t about to let it slip away.

Fingers curling around his wrist, you squeeze his forearm like a vice. “I don’t give a damn if I suffocate,” you growl. “Kiss me right now or I swear to God, I’ll rip that mustache off your face.”

Maybe threatening a man isn’t the most romantic thing you could have said but it gets the job done. His lips instantly come crashing into yours. It’s so fast, so passionate that it draws a small gasp from your lungs.

Instinct takes hold of your body as your hands blindly seek shelter somewhere in the sanctuary of his body. One hand ends up clinging to his shoulder while the other curls around the back of his head to bury itself amongst the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. Fingernails scrape their way up his scalp until his tongue dips into your mouth and drives you to anchor yourself to the earth by grasping at a fistful of his hair.

You tug. He groans. The sound rumbles like an earthquake in his chest and tickles a primal, needy part of you that you’ve long since forgotten. At that moment—at that sound—all of the self control you have left crawls right out of your skin to leap in the waves and drown.

Without so much as a second thought, you crawl into his lap so that you’re straddling his thighs. He has to crane his neck slightly to kiss you now but he doesn’t seem to care. You’re right where he wants you. And the sudden pressure of his hands seizing your waist to pull you flush against his body confirms it.

It’s hard to tell how long you stay like that. The concept of time itself seems to vanish and the world around you has pretty much ceased to exist altogether. All you know now—all you even care to know—is the taste of Bradley’s lips and the heat of his breath on your skin. 

When the kiss is finally broken so you can give your lungs some much needed oxygen, his mouth latches onto your neck. Teeth graze your throat and his tongue leaves a ghostly trail of saliva in its wake. There’s no doubt that you’re going to find a collection of hickeys on your neck tomorrow and, in all honesty, you’re glad. You want to remember this, to look at yourself in the mirror tomorrow morning and think about what it feels like to be consumed by the man you’ve grown to love.

A tiny whimper slips from your mouth as he sucks a particularly dark mark onto your skin. Maybe that was his closing remark. Or maybe the sound you made was a little too reminiscent of a person wincing in discomfort. Either way, his mouth finally eases off and he pulls back to look at you for the first time since this has all started.

“You make me crazy,” he murmurs as he slides one hand down to your thigh.

You let out a breathless huff of laughter. “I can’t make you something you already are, Bradshaw.”

“Fair enough.”

Dragging your hands toward his neck, they find their place just above the collar of his shirt as you lean in to kiss him again. It’s much slower this time. The initial hunger has been satiated just enough to allow you to coast on affection rather than whatever lust-fueled engine had kicked off the whole encounter.

“Mmmm,” he hums into your kiss. “I wanna take you home with me…”

Something hot and heavy pools in the pit of your stomach at that. Making out with Bradley has been heaven sent. It’s more than you could have hoped for and you are beyond grateful for the opportunity. But this impossibly handsome, shamelessly sensual man just can’t seem to count his blessings. He wants more and he has no desire to hide it.

Not that you’re opposed…

You drag your tongue over his bottom lip and grin. “Well maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let you.”

He shifts underneath you, legs separating just enough to make you feel an ache in your thighs as you continue to straddle him. The movement brings your attention to something else as well. There’s a firm, hot pressure against the inside of your thigh that most definitely hadn’t been there when you first crawled in his lap.

Oh, Jesus…He’s hard, you realize.

“Please.”

No legal team stands a chance against that. He practically whines as he does what you suggest, begging like an animal who can’t wait to be fed. He may not be the kind of guy to shy away from pursuing something, but he’s also not the kind to take what doesn’t belong to him. If he needs to earn your trust or your permission, he’ll do whatever it takes.

You reward him with a sultry kiss. It’s quick, but it makes your intention clear: Yes. You are saying yes.

Without giving him another chance at initiating anything more, you climb out of his lap and stand on the path that separates the bench from the rocky border of the San Diego bay. The evening breeze is much cooler now and actually coaxes some goosebumps into crawling over your arm.

He lingers in his seat, legs now spread wide to ease some of the discomfort between his thighs. You’ve never seen him in such a messy state. His clothes are all ruffled. The unknotted bowtie around his neck is lopsided and threatening to slide out from beneath his collar. The hair on the top of his head is now completely unkempt with a handful of strands dangling over his forehead. And, with the combination of hooded eyes and slick, swollen lips, he looks like the kind of raunchy wedding date people have wet dreams about.

As much as you want to stand there and appreciate the view, the impatient little creature tugging at your gut has other, less restrained plans.

“With all due respect, Lieutenant,” you say as you straighten the fabric hugging your torso, “I don’t have all night.”

A crooked smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “10-4.”

Making no attempt to fix any part of the mess that is his visage, Bradley stands up and grabs your hand to lead you back to the parking lot. None of this is what you expected when you agreed to be his plus one, but man are you glad you said yes. Whatever lies in store for the remainder of the night is a gift you just can’t wait to unwrap.

#Wow wow wow #This one sure is something #I think I had more fun writing this than most of my other reader inserts #Nothing beats a good friends to lovers story #Also should I write a follow up? I'm pretty tempted ngl #Reader Insert #Bradley Bradshaw X Reader #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw X Reader #Miles Teller X Reader #Top Gun Imagines #Top Gun Reader Insert #My fic #Rooster Bradshaw X Reader #GN!Reader

[olderthannetfic]

Yeah noticing that weird social movement on twitter to push white people to be an unfeeling hivemind who hate POC just because they're white, and only listen to other white people is… interesting, and made it very clear why I really never engaged with twitter. It's unnecessarily passive aggressive and honestly embarrassing seeing keyboard jockeys legit post things like "To make white people listen, we got you a video of a white person telling you about the situation. Because you don't care about POC."

Honestly, it's a pretty good way to gauge how chronically online people are to see their twitter and how they think other human beings interact and how blind they are to actual human relations, but it's also just really exhausting even trying to engage with situations because it's more about being passive aggressive than some times the actually important things that need to be talked about.

My fave part has definitely become the weird dichotomy between "White people need to speak up, because people will listen to them." and the parallel reaction from the exact same people being "White people need to shut up, and leave us to deal with this." Coming from the same individuals, about the same social issues, about the exact same information.

I'm honestly glad to know some real people in the real world, because it just shows how much these people have seemingly given up on reality beyond those cursed blue checkmarks and unhinged ideologies.

--

[falloutjuli]

After a long debate with myself slelf I gave up and said “Fuck it, we publishing this now”. I felt like something was missing but I cannot for the life of me find out what. Anyways, Im hella down for a potential second part, so lemme know if yall would be interested in it, I‘d make the reader afab in that one tho.

Btw unless specified, I normally try to keep the reader gender neutral.

----------------------

NSFW Johnny x Reader - Talk dirty to me

Wordcount: roughly 2.2k

Short summary: Johnny discovers some mosquito bites on his companion and they get talking about some naughty stuff.

Warnings: Masturbation, Blowjob, Johnnys bug bite fetish, dirty talking, reader really likes some jockey from Kentucky (whoever that may be lmao)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

-----------------------

A book, campfire, a starry night sky, and two good friends. What more could one ask for? You certainly couldn't as you were comfortably laying down on your sleeping bag, skimming the pages of the book you picked up in the last town. It was just a little something to keep you busy during breaks.

"Whatcha readin'?" Johnny asked next to you, leaning over a little. You were laying on your stomach, not bothering to look over. "Romance novel. It's quite crappy though." You replied and Gyro let out his signature Nyo-ho-ho.

"Romance? Never took you for that kind of person." He said and sat down on his sleeping place. "I do not actually read it normally; I just took whatever I found in the store. But man, it's so bad. I feel sorry for anyone who got this with the genuine intention of enjoying it." You replied and closed the book. You'd make sure to grab a new one in the next town.

Gyro and Johnny just laughed before falling into a casual conversation that you just listened to. It was a nice relaxing Time in-between the heated race where you had to focus 100%. You sat up to get rid of your coat. It was more than warm enough, especially with the fire nearby, so you tossed it aside before laying back down. Your head found place on your crossed arms to rest and relax as you thought about which paths to take tomorrow.

Gyro and Johnny had stopped talking and silence lingered around the little camp. Your eyes looked up and saw Gyro laying down too, his signature hat placed onto his face. Looking over to you right you saw Johnny staring intensely at you, a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Johnny?" Once he heard his name spoken, he prayed his eyes away. "Yeah?" "Why were you staring at me?" Johnny hesitated, his head looking from left to right. "Eh, you got a mosquito bite." He pointed out, his finger pointing at your arm. You turned to have a look at it and sure enough, four bites, varying in sizes. "Ah shit, they got me through the coat." You cursed, not knowing which effect these insignificant bites had on your blond friend.

He coughed, still looking incredibly flustered. You laid your head back down on your arms, enjoying the rest and not paying much attention to Johnny's weird behavior. You only noticed something was off when his eyes constantly went to your arm throughout the next half an hour.

He didn't know you watched him through your hair that nicely covered your face. Was it maybe worry, that you might have gotten an infection? Mosquitos did carry diseases so it could explain his weird behavior. But that theory was out of the window when he hesitantly extended his arm to have his fingers brush over the bites. As soon as his fingers touched your skin, you felt incredibly hot, unsure what to do.

His expression seemed pained almost, as he was biting his lip, his eyes squinting. "Johnny?" You called out, feeling a little weirded out as you weren't sure how to interpret his doing. Never in your life have you seen someone turn around so fast, desperately trying to pretend that didn't happen.

"Johnny, I know you're awake."

"I'm not."

"Sure." You replied sarcastically and waited but he wasn't going to explain himself. You came closer, poking him in his side.

"Johnnnyyy. Explain yourself. I'm not mad or anything, I just wanna know whyyy." You whined, your poking continuing before he grabbed your hand and shushed you. He arched his back, checking on Gyro who was still soundly sleeping, not noticing the commotion.

"Okay. But don't tell any soul! I will shoot you if you dare to tell anyone!" He threatened, aiming his finger at you. "Promise." You said and sat cross legged. Johnny propped himself up with his arms, his face looking away as he hesitantly spoke.

"Well I... This is really embarrassing but... I have a bug bite fetish." You blinked a couple of times. "A. what." "B-Bug bite fetish." You nodded slowly, trying to process.

"So you find my mosquito bites hot?" Johnny let himself fall back onto his back, his hands coming up to cover his face. "Shut up." He said, as you chuckled slightly. "Nothing to be embarrassed about. Everyone got their fantasies or fetishes." "Even you?" He moved his hands slightly to peer at you from under his beanie he had pulled down.

"Like I said everyone. I bet even Gyro does." You laughed and looked over to the Italian man.

"T-then tell me one of yours! That'd only make it fair!" You waited for a moment, pretending to think about it while scratching your chin. "Mhm, fine, for fairness after all." You shrugged, making Johnny finally remove his hands from his flustered face.

"I have this fantasy about riding." Johnny looked at you dumbfounded. "Riding? You mean as in horse riding?" You shook your head. Scooting even closer to him, you leaned down to his face. Your breath tickled his ear, which made the blond shudder.

"No, I really wanna ride this one genius jockey from Kentucky." Johnny’s eyes widened, he swallowed harshly, trying to get rid of the sudden feeling of suffocating from embarrassment.

"Do you?" He finally spoke, hearing you chuckle as soon as he said that. "Yeah. I wanna see his face as I show him I don't only ride horses. I wanna hear him say my name as I choke on his dick. I wanna show him what I can give him, shower him in praise as he marks me as his. God I really have a thing for that man." With that you drew back, looking at him.

His face was covered in a huge blush, his fingers fiddled with one another on his chest, the effect your words had clearly visible by the way his pants bulged. "Night Johnny!" You happily declared, content with your work, getting back on your bag to lay down and rest, a big smile stretched across your face.

"H-Hey!" He called out desperately, almost too loud before he remembered he wouldn't want Gyro to wake up to this. "You can't just go to sleep now!" His hand shook your shoulder as your back was facing towards him. The way he reacted to all of this had you giddy.

"I can't? I thought we were just talking about fantasies! And I told you mine, so it's all said and done." You toyed with him, growing amused by how desperate he was to get a reaction from you. "Aw Darlin', come on, don't leave me hanging like that!" You bit your lip. Damn, that accent had you weak. That damn jockey from Kentucky.

"Well... I guess it'd be rude to get you all worked up like that. But i will need something from ya." Johnny stared at you impatiently, only wanting to hear your demand.

"Beg." You stated dryly, smirking when he shyly looked away trying to hide his reddening face.

"Please. Please help me get some relieve." You laughed and presented him the bitten shoulder. You looked at him through half lidded eyes as you spoke. "You sound pretty like that. I might need that incorporated in my own fantasies." "How dirty." "Rich coming from the guy begging." You got him there.

Johnny knew it was better to not get too snarky otherwise you could easily decide to not help him anymore, so he pushed his sassy side aside to play by your rules. "Why don't you tell me more about that Kentucky guy thing?" He asked as his hand wandered down into his pants.

"Oh him?" You made sure to get seated between his legs as you continued. "Well... He's just the prettiest guy ever. Man, those strong arms make you wish he uses them on you. I mean God, I wanna be pinned by him." Johnny’s breath staggered, and you looked down to his lower half to see his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it.

"And you wanna ride him?" You nodded, enjoying the image of said scenario. You kept your eyes closed as you continued talking. "I once saw a good bit of his torso while he changed shirt. Wow. That's when I first had that thought. I just wanna show him how good I can make him feel, ride him until he begs me to stop." Johnny leaned forward, his forehead resting on your shoulder and his heavy, irregular breath hit your skin, giving you goosebumps.

"You think he would do that?" He asked. "Potentially? I mean you can never know. I always try to imagine what face he will make when he cums. How it'd feel if his hands grip into my skin, leaving marks. I sometimes wonder if he'd mark me."

"I bet he would." Johnny answered, his answer barley a whisper mixed with soft moans as his hand keeps working on himself. It felt so special that he played along to your little game. "Oh, to be his. Sometimes when I'm on the road with him, I only think about him in dirty ways. I'm a hopeless case." Johnny’s tongue flicked over your shoulder, giving the bites a careful lick. He could feel you shudder.

"Wow darlin' you sure got a dirty mind." You wanted to snarkily reply so badly, but you much rather listened to his breathless whispers against your skin. "To know you so shamelessly think about that guy all day long..." You nodded absentmindedly. Slowly you turned your head to him, waiting until he lifted his head to look at you too. The image of his lust filled eyes, the flustered expression and his dick in his hand was now forever engraved in your brain.

"If Gyro wasn't so close by... The...the Things I would do to you... They'd make even him blush." "Same here." He replied before biting his lips. He imagined those things and it felt suddenly even harder to control himself.

"What would you do?" You questioned. "I'd already have you on me, fulfilling what you were fantasizing about. I want you to scream my name." "For you I'd do anything." A sort of starring contest broke out between you too as you only looked at one another with hungry eyes. Damned be Gyro.

At last, you made the move to slowly get down, trying to not break eye contact while doing so. Carefully you shooed his hand away from his cock to replace it with yours. As soon as you did you could notice that Johnny's breath hitched, making you smirk. With great anticipation, Johnny watched you dragging your tongue from bottom to top before a chunk of his dick disappeared in your mouth.

The blond threw his head back, a moan escaping his lips before he quickly pressed his hand upon it to keep quiet. His reactions only motivated you more, making sure to put extra care in everything you did. Your tongue swirled around his tip when you weren't busy seeing how deep you could take him in.

Seemingly pleased with your efforts the hand that previously kept his mouth shut now found its way into your hair, gripping it from time to time while you worked away on him. It didn't take long until you could tell by his breath, whimpers and suppressed moans that he was getting close.

Determined to end with a bang you bobbed your head up and down a few more times before taking in as much as you could with a hum. The sensation of it and the sight was too much for Johnny to handle and so he came deep in your throat.

You patiently let him ride it out, giving him one final lick to clean him up, before getting up, letting him watch you swallow his cum.

The confident smile that adorned your lips was now forever stuck in his mind. With the back of your hand, you wiped away any leftover saliva around your mouth before getting up to get your water canteen.

Johnny was left behind still feeling high on life before he too quickly fixed himself up. A bit of awkwardness lingered in the air now that the deed was done. Johnny awkwardly got back to his sleeping bag to lay there staring at the sky and you soon did the same.

You twiddled with your thumbs, all confidence from before gone now. The silence was only broken when Johnny decided to break it.

"Hey Y/N?" You hummed, signaling for him to continue. "How about at the end of the stage, when we stay at the hotel, we take a break from Gyro?"

"To do what?" A moment passed before he answered.

"For you to show that Kentucky guy your riding skills?" You had to smile, a chuckle even escaping you.

"Sounds good to me."

The awkwardness drifted away to be replaced by comfort and warmth. You two went from looking at the stars to looking at each other. You adored the way his blond hair fell around his face, framing it perfectly and pretty blue eyes that looked at you. That damn Kentucky guy would now even more dominate your thoughts, especially since you still had a good bit of way to cover until the stages end. Damned be Johnny.

#johnny joestar x reader #jjba johnny #jjba x reader #jjba johnny x reader #johnny joestar #steel ball run