#especially since he never wants to have crowley do anything bad ever

[ithacanradio]

between "let there be light", "one (falling) is a tragedy two is a systemic problem" and the various winks to the immense powers crowley supposedly has im now thinking this bitch might actually be the bearer of light lucifer himself

#brief throwback to the nerd year of 2015 with this spam of posts its not gonna last tho dont worry #but this is so intriguibg im betting now on aziraphale becoming raphael and crowley having always been lucifer #i just dont know how neil will handle the whole satan thing like im sure there's gonna be some more twists #especially since he never wants to have crowley do anything bad ever #but the personality and the 'let there be light' .... it checks

[merakiui]

He's a thought. Crowley is terrible at providing for MC. Everyone in the school practically knows this. So imagine if Crowley calls MC to his office one day and tell them they'll be staying with (insert character) from now on. Turns out the guy bought mc and they don't plan on mc ever leaving them.

I know you'll use mostly talk about octotrio. But I also like to imagine Malleus doing the same thing. Especially since you're his first friend

Oh, that's a good idea!!!!! :0

Riddle buys you with completely innocent intentions in mind. At first it's so that you won't have to be poorly provided for by that not-so-accommodating Headmage. He's cleared a room in Heartslabyul for you and Grim and as long as you adhere to the Queen's rules and follow dorm policies you will be granted a comfortable stay. Riddle is merely looking out for you. Besides, your education shouldn't have to be compromised because of poor living conditions! Of course, in the eyes of everyone else, Riddle's intentions aren't viewed in that way. Ace and Cater tease him about it until he's red in the face and scowling, insisting it's for your own good and not because of any other inappropriate reasons.

Ruggie buys you on a whim with Leona's money. He could use extra help around the dorm and Leona, though he complains, can't say much if you prove to be useful. That, and how else was Ruggie going to have you to himself? With so many spoiled silver spoons here, it would have been impossible to even think about purchasing you. Crowley talks a high price, but with Leona's wallet anything's possible. :) and you'll be good to keep around when breeding season befalls Savanaclaw.

You're an impulse buy for Kalim. He buys you because he wants to give you a better living space and lots of good food. You can't get that in Ramshackle, and so he thinks it would be best if you could live in Scarabia with him (in his room, naturally)! And Crowley could never turn down a monetary offer from an Asim! You're treated more like a pet than a person, with Kalim spoiling you with pretty outfits, delicious meals (all prepared by Jamil), and anything else you could ever want. The leash is invisible, but you know Kalim holds it when he treats you as if you're royalty, bound to him because he bought you at an insane price. It's dehumanizing to know that, but at least he's sweet to you.

By pooling their funds together, Ace, Deuce, Epel, Sebek, and Jack were able to buy you! And they all have completely different reasons for cooperating. Ace thinks it'll be fun to own you and have his own private darling who'll have no choice but to listen to him because he's the one who bought you. Ever the tease... T_T Deuce just wants you to have a better living arrangement. He wants to do his best to provide for you! Sometimes it feels like he's your husband... Epel is also in a somewhat similar category as Ace; he just wants to know what it's like to hold the reins and not be doted on for once. Now he can do that to you instead. >:) Sebek only did it because Silver mentioned he wanted to save you from the poor conditions in Ramshackle, and Sebek can't let him outdo him like that!!!! Jack is honest and pure; he wants you to have a comfortable school life, even if it's dangerous if you live with him in Savanaclaw. The guys there can get rough, but he'll protect you. <3

Ortho buys you with the intention of giving Idia a friend! :D Idia nearly faints when Ortho brings you back to Ignihyde, claiming he paid the Headmage so that Idia could look after you forever. Idia's a nervous mess around you. He's not used to sharing a space with someone other than Ortho, and you're just so...nice and wonderful and sweet and cute and wow he's down horrendously bad. >_<

Either Lilia buys you for Malleus or Malleus makes the decision on a whim after you mention how difficult it is to keep Ramshackle in good shape. He could just repair it with magic, but then what if you just stayed with him instead? That would be better, would it not? In Diasomnia, you would be most comfortable. Malleus is sure of this, and he spares no expense ensuring you'll be content living with him. Of course this also means you'll follow him back to Briar Valley after he graduates. You're his first friend and soon you'll be his first (and only) lover.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst

[snek-eyes]

Do you think Crowley is mean to Muriel? My gf says he is a little mean but tbh I don't see it. He wants everyone gone so he can have alone time with Aziraphale, and Muriel is not a friend. They're sweet and all, but they were happy to spy on Crowley and Aziraphale and rat them out to Heaven, and they adore the Metatron quite obviously. Muriel isn't evil, just incredibly naive and as caught in the manipulative system just like Aziraphale is, in a way, but they work for that system and they seem to do it happily. They did help Crowley in Heaven, but that doesn't make them friends especially since as I said Muriel is clearly pro Metatron or too naive to be against him. If I were Crowley, I'd want them gone as fast as possible, too 😅 And they don't get the hint the first time with Crowley talking about "us time" so he just gets a little more direct, but that's about as direct as he can get with Aziraphale, too, and as he is with Maggie and Nina, and it's never mean or rude, yk? Just grumpy, in his lovable way. That's how I always read it. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it 😁

* fogot to add: it's nothing personal, Muriel's just doing their job and Crowley knows it, they even helped him (more or less willingly) but they're still working for Heaven.

Hey there, really interesting question! or I'd say two questions: A) Is Crowley mean to Muriel, and B) is that justified?

imo, Crowley & Muriel can basically be summed up by this moment:

"Yay, bully for you." *turns away to go back to cursing heaven*

Crowley, well... he is mean to Muriel. But it's in the way you are when you recognize it's not the person's fault you personally find them annoying, and you don't want to actually make them feel bad. He knows! He knows it's not their fault they're such a neon sign of everything he hates about heaven, that they're so brainwashed and ignorant, and cheerful about it.

But the fact is, Crowley manipulates the heck out of Muriel! And he's downright disrespectful about it, doesn't ever bother to give them a good story, he just says confident nonsense, knowing Muriel has no choice but to take his word for it. He takes advantage of their naivete and uses them for his own ends. That's not exactly nice!

^ tell me that's not condescending as hell lmao

But on the other hand... Yeah, Muriel is a spy for heaven! Not only that, but they've been sent here knowing absolutely nothing about earth. Their very presence is an insult! Crowley and Aziraphale have been here for 6000 years, and heaven still thinks that just the baseline of 'being an angel' makes someone good enough to outmaneuver them? Rude af. So, it's not all that out of line for Crowley to give heaven the same level of respect they showed his side.

But that still leaves Muriel stuck in the middle, getting used by both sides.

I think Crowley is intentionally only seeing Muriel as a tool—one of Heaven, but one that he can use to their advantage. He doesn't want to be sympathetic to them—they are a danger, and Crowley's also got his personal issues around how he seems to have only let himself get attached to one other being.

Yet, there's this moment where he seems to sympathize with them, despite himself:

and another one, when Saraqael shows up and it seems like he's gotten Muriel in trouble, he starts to jump in to defend them. That seems kind.

"shh, don't say anything without a lawyer present."

That final bookshop scene is what you seem to be focusing on though, so let's get there.

Crowley has been hyped up on manic energy all night, all week really, and finally all of this is almost but not quite over, he just wants so badly to finally be alone with Aziraphale and re-establish their status quo. He barely has the patience to even be fake-polite to Muriel (especially now they're being bubbly about the Metatron, who's already on Crowley's shit list and just you wait buddy), he wants them to go away. Maybe it also isn't any fun to manipulate them anymore now he's sympathized with them that little bit.

The pretense is paper thin, but Muriel doesn't get it until he drops it entirely:

This is the first time Muriel's fully cottoned on to the fact that Crowley isn't being Nice anymore. And it's possible Crowley feels bad about it, because when Muriel still tries to stay in the bookshop, he gets dramatic about it, but still reigns himself back in for his next attempt.

The really interesting moment comes when Muriel actually asks for something. Asks to take an earth thing with them, asks to learn. That finally gets Crowley's attention, it's the first time he looks away from the window (Aziraphale) for a reason that isn't telling Muriel to shoo. Long enough to not only look at them properly, but give them enough personal thought that he recommends them a book.

Listen, I love Crowley, but he's kind of an asshole! He's impatient and condescending and manipulative... and yet, when it comes down to it, he cares. All of that can be true.

#crowley #muriel #good omens meta #v watches good omens #good omens 2 #vee replies #anon and on and on

[edosianorchids901]

Forget How To Feel

Ace Omens Hugfest 2024 prompt - "a silent hug"

St. James’s Park, 1860

“Ooh, and I thought perhaps we might go to the theatre soon! That would be lovely, wouldn’t it? We could go see Hamlet again.”

Crowley grunted in response to the enthusiastic chatter. His only audible contribution to their meeting so far, aside from grunts of agreement, was the tap of his new cane. The silver snake head handle wasn’t exactly comfortable to hold, and definitely not practical, but it looked cool. Very fashionable.

“Or-or-or perhaps something a bit more cheerful,” Aziraphale said with a sideways glance at Crowley. Crowley averted his gaze, studying the ducks instead. They seemed a lot happier than he was. “I know Hamlet isn’t precisely your favorite thing. I do adore it, especially because it reminds me so much of your kindness.”

Crowley hissed softly.

“Well, it was kind. And don’t argue with me, Crowley.” Aziraphale stopped, and Crowley jammed the cane down to slow himself without toppling over at the sudden change. His legs hadn’t been very reliable this week. “Actually, I would feel somewhat better if you argued with me. You haven’t said a single actual word, and I’m not sure whether it’s because something’s wrong or if I’ve simply been babbling too rapidly for you to sneak in a response.”

Aziraphale waited for him to reply. Crowley stared at the ducks and didn’t reply.

When Aziraphale just kept standing there, waiting, Crowley finally caved. “S’ not you. But nothing’s wrong.”

“Something certainly seems wrong. I-I am aware that I’m often chattier than you, but you usually at least, well. Chat.” With a little sigh, Aziraphale searched his face. Crowley found himself grateful for the new sunglasses that shielded his eyes from the side, too. “Quite frankly, I’m starting to worry.”

There it was. The phrase that would always get him to reply at least a bit, even if he masked the worst of the trouble. “You don’t need to worry, angel. I’m just… kinda down. S’ not a big deal.”

Ducks splashed in the water, totally absorbed in their own lives. It looked peaceful.

“Yes, well. You’ve been ‘kinda down’ since that whole incident in Edinburgh.” Aziraphale swallowed hard, twisting his gloved hands together. “Of course, it’s not that I can blame you, considering the trouble you were in. I merely wonder if I could be of assistance.”

After a minute, Crowley shrugged. Then he looked around nervously for observers. No one seemed to be paying any attention at all to them. “D’ya think ducks ever have a bad day? Or are they just, y’know… happy as a duck, as the saying goes?”

Aziraphale gave him a baffled look. “I’m not entirely sure that is a saying, my dear. Although I’m not always entirely on top of slang…”

That was an understatement. Normally, Crowley would have teased Aziraphale a little about that. Right now, it seemed like too much work.

When he didn’t answer, Aziraphale gave a little huff. “Well, would you rather we met up another time? If you’re having a bad day?”

“I didn’t say I was having a bad day. I was just asking about ducks,” Crowley protested despite knowing that Aziraphale would never buy it. Aziraphale gave him a look. “Okay, okay. Yes, I’m having a bad day. But I just want to…”

He snarled in annoyance, unable to admit it. He just wanted to be with Aziraphale. Not doing anything, not talking. Just together, where the world didn’t feel so bleak.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said softly. “Well, in that case, I’d be more than happy to stay together. We don’t have to talk, if you’d rather not. Why don’t we go sit on the bench for a bit? It’s actually quite a nice day, sun and everything.”

“Nnnh.” Crowley glanced towards their usual bench. It was usually comfortable. “My legs are killing me today. Sitting on wood doesn’t sound terrific. But I don’t really wanna walk back to the shop, either.”

“I could carry you.”

“I am not letting you carry me. That would definitely make people look at us.”

“No, I mean…” Aziraphale snuck a quick look around. “Not in this form. You could turn into a serpent. We could even sit on the bench like that, if I’d be a more comfortable place to rest.”

Biting his lip, Crowley regarded the angel beside him. Aziraphale was definitely the most comfortable place around, no question about that. “People would still look at us.”

“And then they would assume that I’m merely an eccentric, taking my pet snake out for a walk on a nice, sunny day.” Aziraphale held out his arms. “Shall we?”

Crowley snorted. “You’re not even gonna let me sit down first?”

“We can, if you feel like walking.”

Oh. He really, really didn’t feel like walking.

With a soft hiss, Crowley leaned his cane against the fence and laid his hands on Aziraphale’s forearm. “Okay. Okay. But I swear, if you let any humans pet me…”

Aziraphale beamed. “No humans petting you. I promise.”

Reassured, Crowley shifted into his rarely used snake form, coiling around Aziraphale’s arm as he did. The pain in his legs morphed too, distributing to most of his body. But at least it was different, and less intense.

He opted for a pretty big snake, big enough that he would probably scare most observers away. Aziraphale cooed and hugged him close, supporting him carefully. “Oh, my dear. You’re so adorable in this form.”

Crowley hissed his disapproval.

“My apologies. You’re… very striking. Handsome. Stunning. Also quite large.” Chuckling, Aziraphale shifted Crowley’s weight to one arm, then picked up his cane. “Shall we?”

That didn’t mandate a reply, so Crowley didn’t bother getting one. He was too busy being a snake, enjoying the way it sanded the sharp edges off his mood.

It shifted his priorities. Sure, he was still depressed and exhausted and in pain, not to mention constantly worrying about everything going wrong again. But all of that receded. All the snakey side of himself cared about was warm angel, and he definitely had warm angel.

“Here we are.” Aziraphale sank down onto the bench. He leaned the cane nearby, then wrapped both arms around Crowley’s coils. “Would you like me to talk at all, or be silent?”

Right now, talking was too much to process. Crowley hid his face under Aziraphale’s fluffy cravat thingy.

Aziraphale gave a soft chuckle and stroked his coils, then simply wrapped his arms around Crowley and lapsed into silence. Crowley emerged from under the cravat, resting his chin on Aziraphale’s arm.

The previous pileup of anxious worry faded, retreating deeper into the background as he sank into the comfortable lack of conscious thought. Right now, none of that seemed to matter much. He was with Aziraphale, being hugged to incredible warmth. Nothing could be more important than that.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #ace omens hugfest 2024 #snake crowley #disabled crowley

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

What was preventing Azul from taking the MC dorm before the MC arrived in this world?(sorry if they did say and I missed it)

I don’t believe it was ever explicitly said why Azul didn’t try to take Ramshackle prior to Yuu and Grim moving in. However, I think we can draw a very reasonable guess as to why he didn’t.

Firstly, Azul’s not the type to use force, especially not as a first resort. He won’t just stroll up to the headmaster to put the squeeze on him to give him all the land and resources he wants. Even if Azul wants something badly, uses less than savory means to obtain his desires, and/or tried to sabotage a deal to go in his favor, he doesn’t give outright unreasonable demands or conditions. He’s not stupid; there’s not way anyone would agree to listen to him or consider his offer if he’s so openly aggressive right off the bat. Keep in mind that at this point, Azul also likely did not have anything to leverage over Crowley, so the headmaster has no reason to do what he demands. It took that first year for Azul to strike up deals and to get students under his thumb, which he would then use to pressure Crowley into granting him permissions for the Mostro Lounge. This takes time and effort to pull off, and Azul’s in it to play the long game.

Speaking of time and effort, I’d wager that’s why Azul never seemed to actively pursue the acquisition of Ramshackle dorm until later. The main story seems to begin with Azul in his second year—and it is during the second year when his ambitions reach their peak in the events of book 3. Before this, Azul was most likely concerned with building his own reputation at NRC (as a freshman), as well as building his business. Most of his efforts were likely going toward making his first and main branch a success. After all, he needs to have a proven track record and, more importantly, the influence (dorm leader seat, Crowley’s backing, etc) and the base capitol (money) to expand to a new location. It’s bad business to expand willy-nilly just because he can.

Also consider that since Azul is the dorm leader of Octavinelle, he just has easier access and control of his own territory rather than making things harder for himself by encroaching on the territory of others (which includes general campus land and buildings, as well as the pocket dimensions of the other sorms). It would look bad on his part, especially seeing as he is a relatively new person in power suddenly picking fights with his seniors and staff; it doesn’t help Azul come off as “likeable”, which is something he tries very hard to be. Reputation is very important to him!! It just so happens to be very inconvenient timing that the land Azul had been after for a second Mostro Lounge is suddenly someone else’s living space 😂 It’s probably safer for Azul to swipe the land of a magicless student that lives in an “unofficial” dorm than to jump through extra administrative and blackmailing efforts to pressure Crowley to make another deal with him (+ potentially fight with other dorm leaders).

On a more meta level, I don’t actually think making a second Mostro Lounge at Ramshackle makes a lot of sense?? If you look at a map of NRC, Ramshackle is located off in a relatively isolated location on campus (which is further exemplified by Malleus explicitly choosing to visit the area on his walks, because he says it is nice and quiet there); I don’t think you’d realistically get a ton of foot traffic at Ramshackle, especially when a cafeteria exists inside of the main school building. To me, Azul wanting Ramshackle for his second location seems more like a plot contrivance to up the stakes for the player if Yuu doesn’t end up fulfilling their end of the bargain.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Azul Ashengrotto #Yuu #Grim #disney twisted wonderland #notes from the writing raven #question #twst theory #twst theories #twisted wonderland theory #twisted wonderland theories #Dire Crowley #Malleus Draconia

[desi-yearning]

I understand why the ending is so controversial. But people are picking sides now, about who is the better one of them both, you have to realise that it's not Aziraphale or Crowley. It's always Aziraphale and Crowley.

I've just read some people making Crowley the bad guy for asking Aziraphale to come to Alpha Centauri with him and also kissing him like that. If anything Crowley ever was, he was hopeful. Not selfish. He always was a person of hope especially in the case of Aziraphale and himself. And when he saw both the Dukes of Heaven and Hell, Gabriel and Beelzebub do exactly that, his feelings of hope only intensified. He wanted to get away from all this and simply go off together. He didn't want to simply run away to another planet because both Heaven and Hell are at their throats but it's because he really wanted a future for him and Aziraphale, a future where they didn't have to keep up appearances by not talking to each other and pretending they are arch enemies or whatever load of crap that is while being bone deep in love.

And that kiss. They've both known each other since the beginning of Everything, have collaborated for various things and even saved the World once, so of course Aziraphale loved him too.. right? This was Crowley before the conversation ever happened but after it did, he realises that.. no? Aziraphale is not ready for a future with just them, he's ready to give them up for the sake of doing good and being the supreme arch angel. But of course Crowley noticed the pining and pained looks that Aziraphale kept giving him from a Very long time. And that kiss, was the only chance he's ever going to get to express how he truly feels about them. Crowley thought he will maybe test the waters or look at it like his final one, we'll never know. But this was the first and possibly the last time he gets to kiss his angel, so he took the chance.

I'm surprised people are still trying to find fault in his actions and intentions after my poor boy has been through so much and has always remained so strong. Crowley is resilient and he is so so so in love.

#good omens spoilers #good omens #good omens season 2 spoilers #gos2 spoilers #gos2 #good omens season 2 #good omens s2 #good omens my beloved #good omens season two #crowley #aziraphale #azicrow #aziracrow #ineffable husbands my beloved #ineffable husbands #go s2 #go s2 spoilers

[birboon]

Conceived in the Eye of a Secret

title from Ozzy Osbourne's "Mr Crowley"

A Steddie AU fic - Detective! Steve Harrington [oneshot, potentially multi-chapter) — 6k words

Steve Harrington was seventeen when he saw his first dead body. He wasn’t even out of high school – not even a senior – when he stumbled across Barbara Holland floating face down in his pool. He’d just gone outside for a piss, not wanting to wake his then-girlfriend, brain still fuzzy and whirling from the warm beers Tommy H had stolen from his dad the night before, and there she was; skin tight around her bloated form. Steve had taken one look at her short hair and the leaves knotted there, matted with blood and chunks of soft grey tissue that he’d prayed, God, please wasn’t part of her fucking brain, and vomited. The smell, more than anything, was what sent him over the edge: Rank and pungent, an edge of sickening sweetness. He’d been able to smell her cheap perfume, too.

She’d been dumped there during the night. Steve thought she’d gone home - she was supposed to have gone home, but there police found her car still parked down the street, untouched. ‘A crime of passion’, they’d called it, and even now – almost twenty years later – Steve didn’t understand why. Barbara Holland’s face had been beaten to an unrecognizable, pulpy mess of flesh and blood. Shards of her skull had ruptured through her skin, her left eye had been burst from the blunt force that the sick fuck had hit her with; it had dribbled like veiny egg-yolk into Steve’s pool, mixing with the water like oil.

Steve liked to think himself a passionate guy. But he didn’t go around murdering people.

 Instead, he caught the murderers – preferably before they’d had the chance to do the murdering but like everything in life, it was easier said than done. Hell, he could count on two hands the number of cases that had passed through the rigorous filtering of Hawkins PD before landing at his desk in the tiny, cramped office that the Homicide Department called home. The Homicide Department being him, sole and singular, bent over anaemic manila folders with little more to information than a polaroid snapshot and the name of the deceased.

So, yeah. Steve was seventeen when he saw his first dead body, and for some reason he’d made it his life’s goal to see as many as possible. If only to prevent them from becoming cold cases, forgotten and locked away in some filing cabinet to gather dust – to prevent them from becoming like Barb. Since the Holland case, there hadn’t been another unsolved murder in Hawkins. A fresh-faced, fresh-out-of-college Steve Harrington had made sure of that. And for thirteen years, Detective Harrington had kept it that way.

Still, he never quite got used to seeing a corpse – the smell never did become easier to handle. With the more violent deaths, and Steve grimaced as he stared towards the twisted, strewn remains of the human before him, it became especially hard to bear. Hopper had taught him to chew gum to settle his stomach at particularly bad scenes, and Joyce – ever the astute pathologist – had given him a small jar of Vick’s VapoRub the second time he’d ever come down into the morgue (he’d had to excuse himself halfway through the autopsy the first time, and she’d smiled understandably as he trembled his way to the bathroom, legs shaking and face pallid). But even a hefty smudge of the strong-smelling ointment wasn’t enough to cover the stench of a rotting carcass entirely, and Steve’s stomach turned as decay permeated the room.

It was October, but it was hot, which only served to make matters worse because the heat only exacerbated the whole ordeal. And whilst the rest of Hawkins, and Indiana in general, Steve supposed, were out enjoying the autumn sunshine, he was stuck in a sweat-box apartment with three other men and a day-old cadaver. The room was stagnant, ripe with death.

“What a shit day to die,” he muttered, and though he hadn’t meant to say it out loud his words got a murmur of agreement from the others. It was a Monday.

The woman – Steve glanced down at the clipboard in his hands – Maureen Gildman had been brutally slain. She lay in a pool of her own viscous blood, face carved-up hideously like the jack-o-lanterns that were beginning to emerge in the windows of his neighbours, and the young detective made a mental note to take Dustin to the pumpkin patch before the Holiday was over. Halloween was the kid’s favourite time of year. Unfortunately, it seemed to be a favourite of all the psychos too. Steve checked his watch.

Four Fifty-Seven PM. A Monday.

A simple glance around the room showed varying picture frames lovingly arranged on the walls and sat on bookshelves stocked with cheesy romcoms, void of any actual books. Most were in good condition, if a bit dusty, but Steve wasn’t about to lecture a dead woman on cleanliness. Not when a picture of her young daughter stared over at him, flecked with tiny beads of maroon, thick and congealed atop the pink dress she’d worn to the last middle school dance. Dt. Harrington hoped the girl wasn’t still waiting to be picked up at the school gates, considering the last class would have let out almost three hours ago. Steve checked his clipboard again. Divorced, he thought solemnly, and for a moment let himself empathise with the dead.

He'd seen forensics scrape the burnt remains of brownies into sterile baggies as he’d arrived on the scene, and it said more than he’d wished to know. The girl had been with her father over the weekend, and it was him who had dropped her off that morning. No doubt Maureen had been busily preparing to have her child back with her, cooking up something sweet and special as a prize for surviving another Monday.

“You got a preference?” The words cut through Steve’s thoughts as he turned to the photographer in question. Johnathon gave him a grim, lazy smile, his lips pressed tightly together. “Y’know, for a day to die?”

A layer of dust was collected on the camera in his hands. Particles bounced around in the sunlight pouring through the shuttered blinds. There was something sour in the man’s gaze as he watched Steve, but he didn’t think that the contempt was aimed towards himself – at life, maybe. Johnathon was probably reflecting on the choices he’d made during his career that had led him to that moment.

Steve shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, fiddling with the strings of the lining. “A Thursday might be nice, maybe.”

Johanthon watched him through dark eyes. He lifted the camera to his face, squinting as he levelled it towards the detective’s shoes, and Steve stepped out of the frame as the shutter clicked and the flash illuminated the puddle of crusted fluids that were soaked into the shaggy carpet. A yellow tent marked with a bold, black 12 was posted beside it.

“Maybe,” the other man agreed. The camera dropped back down to his chest, and he shrugged. Steve chewed at his tongue, looking away as Johnathon dropped into a crouch, lens angled towards the body. Maureen looked grossly ethereal in the white light; the flayed skin on her naked chest was red, glowing.

Steve looked down again. Ms. Gildman was the third in a recent string of murders that the Hawkins P.D wanted to clump together beneath the moniker of a serial killer. Ever since the term had been coined by the FBI in the seventies, it seemed every small town was desperate to have one to their name. Obviously, Steve didn’t quite agree. There were casual differences in the demeanour and traits of the killings that had him pegs them ostentiously as all separate, sad crimes. Crimes of passion, he thought grimly. Right. Passion.

Maureen was missing both breasts. They’d been sawn off with a serrated object, upon quick examination – Steve’s money was on a bread knife, stolen from her own kitchen, but the murder weapon wouldn’t be identified properly until Joyce got the chance to take a closer look. The… breasts were found hidden within a tall, exotic-looking potted plant. An empty box of matches had been found there, too, opened and spilt onto the blood-stained carpet. Steve imagined that whoever had murdered the woman got cold feet, meaning to burn the balls of flesh but abandoning the plight at the last moment. Or maybe they had refused to light, and after four frazzled, burned-out attempts they had been forced to leave before the police arrived on scene.

Either way, Steve found nothing passionate about it. Disgusting, maybe. Driven by desire? Absolutely. But there was no passion, just the empty and unfeeling actions of a disturbed individual.

He stepped away, ducking back beneath the police tape. He’d seen enough.

Nodding to the paramedics waiting patiently in the hallway, equipped with a stretcher and a body bag, Steve crept away. Several neighbours had been escorted from the building in hysterics – in particular, the old woman who had found the woman after smelling the burning confectionary that had been baking as she’d died – but those that hadn’t were standing in their doorways, arms crossed, faces framed with dismay. Steve couldn’t quite figure out if they really were upset, or just desperate to know what was happening.

Chief Hopper appraised him with dark, judging eyes as he approached the stairwell, holding out an arm to stop Steve’s descent into fresh air. A burned-out cigarette hung limply from the older man’s lips, smoke drifting from the glowing embers fleetingly. Steve inhaled sharply, desperate to purge his nostrils. He wiped his nose.

“Careful when you go down there, kid,” Hopper grumbled. Steve raised an eyebrow. “I got two words for ya: Press and chaos.”

“That’s actually three words, chief, but who’s counting?” Jim barked out a rough laugh, and the young detective continued: “Not you, evidently.”

“Don’t push your luck, Harrington,” the older man snapped, but he was smiling and, well, Steve was just glad someone still had that ability, no matter how joyless and thin it was. The chief clapped him on the back as he pressed forward, calling after him. “And don’t say I didn’t warn ya!”

Hopper was right, of course; it was chaos. Always was, but Steve supposed that his wishing for a moment of peace was just that: Wishful. A duo of officers were posted at the main entrance to the building, chatting lightly with each other. Through the screen doors Steve caught a glimpse at the gathered crowd of reporters – a heaving, squirming mess of free-for-all filled with flashing cameras and eager journalists, all desperate to catch a glimpse of the deceased or ambush someone who had.

Upon spotting them, the sea surged, and Steve was half-worried that they’d bring down the doors, but the men in charge of crowd control didn’t seem at all bothered. They shot him a lame look of distaste – one that said ‘oh look, there’s the great detective’ and Steve grimaced.

“Detective Harrington! Detective, could you give us a – “

“Harrington! What did the deceased look like?”

“Detective is this a serial killer?”

Detective! Detective! Detective!

He ducked behind a supportive dry-wall in the centre of the apartment building’s ‘reception’ area, eyeing the stapled pamphlets and posters hanging there miserably. Only one caught his eye – it stood out from the rest simply because it had tried: Nestled atop the dull pastels and black print was a seemingly hand-made poster advertising a band, all dark reds and metal greys, collaged with newspaper cut-outs. Corroded Coffin (what happened to naming bands nice things, like The Doors or Wham! ?), were playing at a club Steve hadn’t visited in years, The Upsidedown . He hadn’t been there since Dustin had been unceremoniously dropped into his lap, not since he’d made Senior detective, what, six years ago?

 Dt. Harrington mused, almost-sadly, that he hadn’t even been out for drinks in at least three months – and that was only because he’d been dragged by Robin on one of the Forensic-team outings. He’d gotten shit-faced off of cheap cocktail pitchers and shots of rose tequila, and had to explain to his son why he was going to have to get the bus to school the next morning because ‘daddy’s sick, buddy. Real sick’.

Without thinking, the detective snatched the sheet of paper from the wall, leaving a strip of paper behind, still tacked to the wall, and folded it carelessly into his pocket. And then Steve finally made the point of searching for a fire exit.

It wasn’t hard – cheaply printed white sheets of A4 with a bold red arrow and text reading ‘IN CASE OF FIRE’ were hung carelessly close to the ceiling, one pointing to the next in the most boring treasure hunt ever created. Honestly, though, Steve did think there would be treasure once he found the big X (or, in his case, the back exit to the building). It would come in the form of peace and quiet, and no out-of-context quote headlining the papers, and he was anxious to uncover it.

But when he made it to the outside world, swinging on the fire-retardant handle, Steve was met not only with a crisp October breeze and brilliant sunshine, but with a cheap tape recorder being shoved under his nose. He recognized the neat script inked onto the label that was stretched over the plastic and frowned, pushing it gently away.

“I told you, you can’t just turn up at these things,” he said, herding her backwards as he stepped out into the light. His tone was cold enough for the woman in question to drop the arm holding the device out towards him. She cocked her head, reeling after him like an annoying blowfly on a body. “And before you ask, Nancy, my answer is no comment.”

“You’re not looking so hot right now, Steve,” she said softly. Steve scoffed.

“You know exactly what a man wants to hear, don’t you?”

“Are you okay?” Nancy probed gently, and finally caught up with the man, she settled into stride beside him. He looked down at her and her frilly shirt and smiled gingerly.

“I’m doing just fine, Wheeler.”

Nancy’s mouth twisted bitterly at the disconnect in his voice and Steve sighed. They’d dated for three years – four, if you counted the sweet high-school romance they’d fooled themselves into believing – before an inevitable, explosive end. Life got in the way, he told himself. Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler were as different as two people could be; fire and ice. Steve had hoped he’d be able to thaw the woman, get her to settle down, but she’d wanted different things. He’d wanted a family, and she wanted to soar.

Steve had gotten his family, in the end, in the form of a robust, confused four-year-old. And Nancy, well. She was doing what she’d always dreamed.

The woman rewound her tape, bringing it to her mouth: “See: Detective Harrington at the end of his rope. Is this the first case the prodigy can’t solve?”

Steve rolled his eyes, tucking his chin to his chest as they crossed the parking lot opposite the swarm of spectators round the front of the building. The ranks of journalists had settled their unprofessional nature by pressing their faces and cameras against the misty glass, like toddlers at a zoo trying to see into the lion’s enclosure.

“You’re not going to scare me into talking about my feelings, Nancy,” Steve said, casting a glance towards her. She shrugged, spinning the recorder in her fingers.

“Worth a shot,” came the reply, accompanied by a shrug, and Nancy escorted him back to his car, shrouding him in companionable silence. Her low heels clicked on the gravel, and she spun to him when they reached his BMW. A hand wrapped itself around his wrist, and it was Steve’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You know you can talk to me, right? You were joking, I know, but… Sometimes I worry about you, Steve.”

Dt. Harrington’s smile waned. “I should be the least of your worries,” he shot back. He’d aimed for a light teasing, but the words came out with a heavier weight than he’d expected. Even he reeled back from them, and Nancy squeezed his wrist reassuringly. His pulse raced under her touch. Just friends, he reminded himself (was that all It took? Just a touch from someone that wasn’t his boss or his son? God, he needed to get laid – yet another thing that he hadn’t had the luxury of indulging in lately).

“I care about you. I always worry about the people I care about.”

Steve shook her off gently, opening the driver’s side door: “Be good for Hopper when he finally drags himself out of there, Nance. Tell Mike I say hi.”

 He slid behind the wheel before she could reply and unravel the fragile life he’d built for himself.

…

Three hours later, and Steve was drowning in paperwork.

It was cruel, really, how much time he spent in an office that wasn’t even his. Officially, it belonged to the department but most of the time Dt. Harrington saw it as a glorified janitor’s closet. Because whilst it looked good written down on paper, the chipped name plate with Steve’s name on it – one that he was one-hundred-percent sure had been engraved by the resident fear-mongering asshole Officer Hargrove - dared him to question why the opaque glass door didn’t say the same. He’d worked for the Hawkins PD for over a decade: You’d think they would have the audacity and respect to give him a permanent work residence.

But alas, not everyone could be so lucky as the violent crimes unit – especially not homicide. And so Steve settled for less than he deserved and he waited it out patiently, because, in the end, that was how he’d wound up where he was today:

‘Never chase an opportunity,’ his father had told him – and this was when Steve had become co-captain instead of sole captain of the swim team, faced not only with his own disappointment but with his old mans’ too. ‘If you deserve them, they’ll come’.

Steve never had made captain of the swim team outside the constant, companionable badgering of James Rowe, and he’d never outgrown the tiny, un-flourishing seeds of wisdom that Harrington Senior had dredged up during his childhood. Somethings were worth waiting for, he’d deigned. But most of the time they weren’t.

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it from his forehead with a rough sigh. His shoulders were stiff and sore from being hunched over a desk that took up so much room in the cluttered office that he could hardly breathe, and his wrist ached from underlining and circling the clauses and misspells in Deputy Callahan’s write-up. A myriad of red-penned scribbles tracked over the pages strewn across the table and not for the first time Steve felt like some kind of kindred spirit to the kids Tommy H had made do his homework back in high school. Why even write it in the first place if you knew it was going to be obsolete?

Because they liked to waste his time, that’s why.

God, Steve hated Mondays.

He gathered the loose-leaf documents into a pile, tapping it against the desk to straighten the pages into semi-reasonable conditions, and pushed them to one side. He balanced a heavy-duty hole-punch on top, just in case the weather decided to act it’s month and send a blast of crisp wind through the tiny window held open by the string of the blinds covering it. It had happened once before, years ago, and Steve had spent the rest of his night on overtime just picking up pieces of paper and filing them back to their original places. He didn’t feel like going through that again; his back wasn’t what it used to be, and Steve wasn’t sure his knees would be up to the challenge of crawling along a hard wood floor.

Picking his pen up and dropping it with a quiet clink into the mug resting by his computer, he pushed away from the table, letting the wheels of his chair take him the distance to the door. Steve opened it gingerly, poking his head out and hoping that it wasn’t true that a woman’s work was never done: If Florence made him take another casserole home, he was pretty certain Dustin would begin to refuse meals, and if there was one thing Dt. Harrington didn’t need added to his list of difficulties, it was a fussy ten-year-old.

Thankfully there was no secretary in sight – in fact, it looked like half the police force had abandoned ship. The entire precinct was a waste land. Officer Powell sat in one corner, feet kicked up on his desk, throwing paper balls at a whirring fan, and Maxine Mayfield – a regular to the station, but not for unsavoury reason – watched with an unimpressed gaze as she waited for her brother’s shift to be done. But, really, that was it. That was the grand entertainment that Steve’s nightlife offered.

His keys rattled jovially as he locked up the office, and he ruffled the red-head’s hair in a drive-by mussing on his way to grab his coat from the rack. Robin’s was gone already – no surprise there – so all he really had to worry about as he was leaving was double-checking he had everything, and avoiding the vengeful, fisted hands of Max as she leapt from her chair with furious, delighted eyes:

“Harrington,” she hissed, and Steve smirked at the warmth he detected in her tone. She obviously hadn’t meant for it to leak through, because her eyes widened, and the girl scowled.

“Happy to see me, Max?”

“No!”

“You are,” Dt Harrington teased, and he crouched down in front of her with a stupid grin on his supposedly stupid face. “You so are!”

“Am not!”

Steve waggled a finger in her face, winking to Powell over her shoulder as Max grabbed for it, bringing it to her mouth with the threat of biting it clean off like a carrot stick. “Face it, kid. You love me. You find me funny!”

“You’re stupid,” the ten-year-old snapped back, releasing his hand, and grabbing the lapels of his coat with tiny fists instead. She pulled him forward like she was being the bad cop in a duo of interrogating officers. Steve let himself get tugged along for the ride, grinning.

“Says who?”

“Says Billy,” Steve rolled his eyes, prying her limpet-like fingers from his suit. He straightened up, leaving her adorable, angry face glaring up at him. Her cheeks had gone as red as her hair. There was no heat in her voice though, not really, and she looked away from his soft gaze, blushing. “But I still think you’re cool. He’s stupid too.”

“Yeah, Max. He is,” the man agreed, hands on his hips. “You know who else is stupid? Chief Ho –“

“Harrington!” Steve paled, letting out a nervous bubble of laughter as he turned to the voice. Jim levelled him with a disappointed stare that sent waves of childhood nostalgia through the detective’s gut as the station doors swung shut behind him. He was wrangling a cuffed man by the elbows, tiredness seeping through his eyes, through his voice. “This isn’t a day care. Come and help me.”

Steve furrowed his brows, confused, but approached, nonetheless. He stepped with caution, unsure. “Uh, isn’t exactly my forte, Hop.”

“Cut the crap, detective. You went through basic training just like the rest of us,” the Chief sanctioned, and the lack of patience in his voice caused Steve to walk that little bit faster. At his approach, the guy in custody’s attention rocketed straight towards him.

Now, Steve was never one to judge a book by it’s cover. Really. But with a quick and critical appraisal of the man currently being arrested by his superior, it was kind of hard for Steve to avoid.  Because when the man turned, his hair turned with him – all of it – and it flicked over his shoulders, framed by the cheap halogen lighting above, like something out of a Whitesnake music video. Because the tight black jeans, the worn leather jacket, the Savatage t-shirt, the glint of cool silver adorning his knuckles and fingers, did nothing to quell the uncomfortable heat creeping its way up his throat, and Steve cursed himself for never fully getting over his childhood crush on Nikki Sixx.

“Yeah, detective, cut the crap,” parroted the man, and Steve revelled in that voice being aimed towards him. He swallowed, dragging his eyes up from the chains looped around his waist like a belt (and were those handcuffs in place of a buckle? Christ). A smirk was plastered over top of the rocker’s face, his brown eyes fully aware, it seemed, of the thousands of thoughts flooding through Steve’s mind. “Help the old man, why dontcha?”

Hopper gave the guy a rough shove and he stumbled, letting out a breathy laugh, and, stupidly, Steve reached forward to steady him. He regretted it the minute he touched the man because the flutter of eyelashes and sarcastic ‘my hero’ had Dt. Harrington stumbling instead.

“Fingerprint him,” the Chief said gruffly, physically manoeuvring Steve’s hands from the convict’s­ - remember the type of people who get themselves arrested, Steve – shoulder down to the cuffed hands pinned behind his back. Jim held him there for a moment, giving the other man a knowing look. His grip on Steve’s wrist tightened: “He’s in for drunk and disorderly. You remember how to put that into the system, right?”

“Yeah, but – “

“Don’t get distracted if you ever want to make it home tonight,” Hopper relented, backing away. Steve frowned.

“Where are you going?”

The chief grinned, throwing his hat onto his desk and shrugging on his coat. “Hot date, you know how it is.”

Steve resisted the urge to scoff, clearing his throat instead, and he gently urged the man in his charge forward as he watched, more miserable than ever, as his boss practically skipped from the building.

He pushed the cuffed man into a chair opposite an empty desk and turned the computer on begrudgingly. Chin in hand, he stared towards the blank windows-start-up screen as the PC’s fans whirred angrily into action. Steve felt eyes burning into him, and pushed hair from his forehead as he turned to the unwelcome attention:

“What?” he sighed. He was met with an exaggerated smile.

“Judging by your reaction, I guess you don’t.”

“What?”

“Know how it is,” the man continued, and Steve could feel himself begin to grow impatient, frustrated, annoyed. Spotting his flustered state, the smile on their face crept even further up their cheeks. “Having a hot date?”

He was leaning over the desk now, cheek pressed against a balled fist in some childish mirroring of Steve, and the detective felt the area beneath his eyes grow hot. He blinked, sitting back in his chair: “I know,” he said, aiming to keep his voice steady and calm – professional, because that’s what he was. A professional. Steve hated the way a dark eyebrow cocked at his response. “I know,” he repeated sternly, trying to force some conviction into his words.

“I don’t see a ring.”

Steve frowned, flexing his right hand awkwardly as he turned back to the computer screen, suddenly incredibly aware of it. “I’m not married.”

“Ah.” Steve’s eyes flickered to him, then down to the chipped nail polish on his fingers, and back to the screen. He swallowed, opening a folder to begin the digital booking procedure. He double clicked on a tick-box by accident as the man decided to speak once more: “So, you’re a player, then?”

Steve cursed breathlessly, exiting the file and reopening it. There, a blank slate. Dt. Harrington wished he could do the same thing in real life and restart this whole ordeal – he wouldn’t be letting Hopper sneak off the next time around.

“Name?”

“Eddie – Edward Munson… Is this an eye for an eye situation? Do I get to know just who my charming captor is?”

“It’s not required for me to tell you,” He stated, stealing a glance over towards Munson. The guy was still staring at him, eyes squinting, half-closed, as though Steve was a mystery he was trying to decipher. The click of keys as Steve added the man’s credentials to the document filled the brief silence. “Any middle names?”

“No.” A simple statement. Normal procedure. Then: “So, about your ‘hot dates’, detective… You go on lots?”

Dt. Harrington wanted to slam his head against the keyboard. He inhaled slowly (hold for four, just like Robin had taught him) and let the air out in a whining, exaggerated sigh. Half of him wanted to throttle Munson with the cuffs chained around his wrists, and the other half wanted to entertain him, purely out of personal, incredibly non-professional interest in the other man’s interest.

“Not anymore,” Steve admitted. He clicked into an empty box asking to describe the crime committed: “My colleague said you were being admitted for drunk and disorderly. Is that right?”

Eddie Munson snorted. “Your colleague?”

“Yeah.”

The other man rolled his eyes and began scratching at an ink stain on the wooden desk. “If you mean the big guy, then yeah. I don’t know about any disorder, though. Thought I was just being thrown into the clink with the rest of the bums.”

“You’re homeless, then?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up beneath his shaggy fringe, hiding there, and he had the audacity to look offended as he sank down into his chair. “Fuck no. Why, do I have trash in my hair?” He brought a hand up to thread through his wild locks, snickering at Steve’s unamused face.

“It’s not funny to make fun of the less fortunate, Munson. What’s your address?”

Eddie stiffened. “Uh, okay. Funny thing, actually – “

“You are homeless?” Steve guessed, and he figured he was actually close to the truth by the way the other man’s face seemed to humble and calm down from it’s crazy that he’d had posted there since they’d met.

“No, dude, I live in a van!”

“Like, in an RV?”

“Er,” Eddie hesitated. “Yeah, sure. Like in an RV.”

“What’s the license?”

Eddie answered disdainfully and watched as Steve typed the information into the designated box, frowning, but he made no attempt to interrupt the detective as he continued filling in the rest of the information. Steve treasured the quiet, broken only by the hushed conversation across the room where in Max continued to verbally abuse Powell’s attempts to shoot a crumpled post-it into the waste basket.

Steve turned to Eddie, then, examining him with a crude eye; Munson puffed his chest beneath his gaze like the preening bird of paradise he’d seen on that nature documentary Dustin had forced him to sit through (David Attenborough had lulled him into a false sense of security -  those birds were vicious).  Dt. Harrington wondered if the man realised he was doing it, but one glance to his smirking face and smudged eye-liner was enough to stop that thought in it’s tracks.

“Do you have a criminal record?”

“Not that I know of,” Eddie replied coolly. He narrowed his eyes as Steve turned to type something into a search engine, leaning forward and craning his neck to try and get a closer look. “What are you doing?”

“Fact-checking,” Steve murmured in reply, and felt his chest deflate, rest easy, when he saw that the man was telling the truth. He was clean as a whistle. Related family members - his father – were a different story all together, and Steve didn’t let himself linger on the crooked, malicious black and white mugshot that leered at him through the screen. Put away for second-degree manslaughter, he thought grimly, and looked back to the Munson sat before him. “It checks out.”

“Well, good,” Eddie said roughly. There was a gravel to his voice that had the hairs on the back of Steve’s neck standing to attention. “I’m a man of many qualities, detective. But I’m not a liar.”

There was an undercurrent of upset, embarrassment, at what Steve had possibly been assuming -  or even hinting towards – and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s just- uh, you know. We have to do it for everyone who comes through,” he stammered, and cleared his throat again, avoiding eye contact with the other man. “Don’t think you’re special or anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Munson shot back, and there it was, the classic grin that Steve found somewhat endearing now that he’d seen that face void of it. Eddie sent him a wink, and he supressed the shiver in exchange for a well-timed eyeroll, scrolling up and down the document to check for anything he’d missed. He checked ‘no’ for anything stating that the incarcerated was exhibiting foul or unsavoury behaviour. ‘No’ was also checked for the box that asked whether a superior officer had been overseeing the whole thing, because Steve was so going to throw it back in Hopper’s face if anyone questioned why a Homicide detective was detaining people.

Steve sent the file to the printer in his office. Mainly because he wanted to escape the digging eyes of Eddie Munson, but also because he didn’t know how to use the one set up only a couple feet away. When he pushed himself out from beneath the desk, standing up, Eddie frowned, copying the motion, and Steve shook his head, pushing him back down into the seat:

“Stay here.”

“Where are you going?” If anything, Steve would say that the man sounded concerned. How cute.

“I’ll be back,” he reassured, and Munson’s eyes widened a fraction.

“Okay?” The other man said, like he didn’t know what else to say. Steve sent him a stiff smile before he began that awkward, half-run half-speed walk to his office. His heartbeat thudded in his ears and if he didn't know any better he'd say he could hear the tumbling of blood as it rushed through his veins as Eddie Munson's eyes followed his every move.

What was wrong with him? Just a few hours ago he was investigating the brutal slaughter of a poor woman. Someone's mother, someone's daughter, was dead, and for the first time in years Dt. Harrington was struggling to keep the case at the forefront of his mind. He braced himself against door, closing it softly behind him. He wasn't in high school anymore, Steve had to remind himself. He couldn't just drop it all for the first cute girl he saw.

But and Steve tried to stop the train of thought before it began, failing miserably. But, Edward Munson wasn't a girl. That made it different, surely?

No. It didn't. Steve had been with guys before - he'd learnt more in college than how to assess the arcs of blood splattered against the wall. He was just tired, and lonely, and he'd had a rough day. Steve snatched the papers from the printer harshly, wrinkling them slightly. He just needed to get it out of his system, that's all.

Preferably not with a drunk dude admitted to a police station.

The term 'beggars can't be choosers' breached the sturdy wall he'd suddenly built up in his mind, and Steve banished it instantly. He wasn't a beggar. He was Steve Harrington. King Steve. The best homicide investigator Hawkins had seen in half a century. If anything, everyone else was begging.

When he came back out of his office, his tiny, insecure pep-talk to himself had boosted his spirits some, and he strode jauntily back to the desk with the same cockiness he'd had when he was younger, before his work had both taken over his life and drained him of it at once. He eyed Maxine Mayfield uncertainly where she was perched on the end of an adjoining desk, listening with the same intense, serious look she always kept on her face as the hand-cuffed man talked aimlessly at her about whatever the fuck a guy like him had to talk about. Music, probably.

Steve sent a sharp glance towards Officer Powell, but the man had fallen asleep with his feet kicked up and his neck flopped awkwardly over the back of his chair. He would feel that position when he woke, and Steve felt a little bit gratified. Served him right for leaving a ten-year-old unsupervised with a criminal.

Not that Dt. Harrington really thought that Munson was a bad guy. Usually when drunks got brought into the clink it was because they’d been partying too loud and disturbed a neighbour, and, honestly, Eddie seemed sober. But that was beside the point.

Steve stood with his hands on his hips, watching the two of them, and felt a begrudging smile tilt the corners of his mouth: “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes,” Max cried, kicking out at him with her swinging legs. She missed him by about three feet, but he got the picture quite clearly. Eddie rolled his eyes, shaking his chains at Steve.

“Nothing important, Steve,” the man purred. Steve’s heart hammered in his chest, and he wet his lips, looking away from the eyes plastered onto him. Eddie tracked the move like a predator, and something about the way he gave his full attention to Steve had the detective shuddering beneath his gaze.

“Max, you’re not supposed to speak to strangers.”

“You were talking to him,” the girl said indignantly, and Eddie’s dazzling smile caused Steve to falter in his reply, like the man knew just how to hotwire his brain. He blinked.

“Yeah, well. That’s my job,” he shrugged, pushing past her sit back down. The red-head scowled, kicking out again, and this time her shoes brushed against his slacks. He shoot her a dirty look: “You shouldn’t have told him my name, either. Where’s your brother? Go bother him.”

Max’s brow furrowed and she pulled her legs up, crossing them on top of the desk. Her eyes flickered between the two men, and she pressed her lips together in indecision. “Can I stay if I’m quiet?”

“Sure. But I want silence. Anything more and you’re out. That’s an order,” Steve enforced, lacing his tone with authority. He knew it would work – it always did with kids. Remind them that you’re in control, give them an ounce of duty, and they felt instantly important. Max nodded furiously, making a show of zipping her lips, and Steve threw the document in his hand down onto the desk, turning his attention to Munson.

The man was looking at him – no surprise there, but Steve still felt oddly uncomfortable – with wide, excited eyes, his lips parted slightly. Steve could see the pink of his tongue trapped between his teeth, and cocked his head slightly: “You good, Munson?” He pushed the paper across the desk. “I need you to sign this for me, then we can get to fingerprinting.”

Eddie swallowed and shook his head. “No, uh – yeah I’m good. I’m super good,” he informed. He paused, scrutinizing the detective as he stole a pen right out of Steve’s hands before he had the chance to offer it. He scribbled a rushed, messy signature that slopped over the dotted line that it was aimed for, and stood quickly, slamming his palms flat on the table in a way that generated a thunderous sound. Steve raised a brow as Max jumped, lips twisting in her attempts to maintain her vigil of absolute quiet. Munson levelled him with a… what was in that stare? Steve couldn’t quite make it out, struggling to compartmentalise the muddle of emotions burning there.

“So you’re ready to go, then?” the detective proffered, rising to join the detainee.

“I’m all yours, Stevie.”

“Please, call me detective. It’s protocol.”

“I’m all yours, detective Steve.”

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. The tangy scent of copper drifted from his tie and he swallowed as he rounded the desk. This was going to be a long night.

He hated Mondays.

#steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie au #steve harrington #eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #detective steve harrington #concieved in the eye of a secret #fanfiction

[animeyanderelover]

Do you write for owari no seraph? How about yandere Crowley Eusford and Ferid Bathory headcanons?

Thank you... Remember to rest.

I am so sorry that it takes me so long to answer those requests...

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, manipulation, blackmailing, sabotage, isolation, degradation, threatening, sadism, violence, control, abduction, death

Yandere Owari no Seraph Hc's

Ferid Bathory

💜Ferid might as well believe that he can never find someone he truly loves since he looks down on humans and mocks the arrogance of his own kind. Immortality has become bored to him as there is nothing that he sees worthy as calling a reason to live anymore. So surely you can't be any different than others. You merely are there to amuse him and serve him for a while with your delicious blood. His growing obsession flies over the head mainly because he believes that he can never love someone. With that being said, Ferid is a shrewd person so he doesn't stay oblivious for too long. He's not even mad or anything, he's thrilled when he discovers that he actually gained a genuine romantic interest in someone. His boredom disappears as he is suddenly overly focused on you, forces you to tell him everything about you and treats you something nice in return. He quickly demands all of your time as he wants to keep you the entire day in his mansion so he knows where you are when he wants you.

💜​Very possessive and manipulative. His s/o is like a little and adorable rainbow in his normally boring and gray world and since Ferid is selfish, he doesn't hesitate to keep such a miracle as close to his body as possible. His high and noble position and his overall behavior are overly manipulative as he doesn't hesitate to take advantage of his position and superiority to blackmail and sabotage you. No hesitation to lie to you if it benefits his insatiable greed as well as confronting you with the cruel truth whenever he sees it to his best advantage. Ferid has no shame to blame you for things that are not your fault and that he in fact caused or calling you out for certain traits of yours that he exhibits in a much worse fashion. The vampire tends to be clingy and overly touchy, sometimes for the sole purpose to make you uncomfortable. He's a pure mystery and unpredictable yet without a doubt nasty as he has a sadistic streak, enjoys it when he can torment you and be entertained by your horrified reaction.

💜​You're his most priced possession and it should be common knowledge that you don't touch what belongs to others, right? Sure, he doesn't even follow that principle himself yet expects others to follow it, especially when it comes to his little human here. He likes to flaunt you sometimes and ruin your pride a bit in the process as he forces you to wear a collar and chooses clothes that expose the bite marks and hickies of his. It's a "look but don't touch" philosophy he uses. Less jealous but more possessive as Ferid has no intention to let you ever leave his side. When someone expresses a too keen interest in you, he tugs you closer as he is quick to hide everything behind his inoffensive smirk though his words are sharpened with the intention to hit a nerve. If his s/o seems to like someone else he humiliates your crush and you alike in front of each other, chides you later on in private for being such a bad pet before he locks you away. He can't have you like someone else, can he now?

💜​He enjoys toying with people a lot, especially if he knows that it puts you on edge too. Ferid expresses little care for others so he can dispose of them quickly. Before that he likes to push them until they break though as he feels a certain joy when he feeds them with false hope before shattering them. Due to his possessive side that doesn't allow it for you to like anyone and his sadistic side, he just uses such chances to break you down on your knees as you beg to leave whoever is precious to you alone as well, willing to do anything. There is a constant risk that he will kill those dear to you and Ferid uses this macabre situation to his utmost advantage. If you misbehave and displease him, he will kill someone you love and go as far as present a detached limb of theirs to you with a hideous smile as he taunts that it's your fault for being so dumb. The only time you'll see a similar chilly smile on his face is when he confronts someone who tried to take you away from him or hurt you severely. How stupid.

💜​He locks his darling away whenever the hell he feels like it, though a punishment of yours include not being allowed to go outside, often when you expressed interest in someone else, tried to escape or he suspects that someone is targeting you. Don't worry, the silver chain on your ankle looks at least gorgeous on you. It's honestly up to his mood whether he wants to show everyone his darling pet or if he wants to be alone with you and play dress-up doll with you. You're not going to leave him as it is, not when he loves you so dearly as he does. Chances are that you are forced to spend hours trying on the clothes he bought for you, have to endure him smothering you hours on end or are to give him your sweet blood. He does so much for you after all, you ought to be a bit more grateful and repay his kindness somehow. He probably installs quite a bit fear into his s/o as he tells them that without him they'd be a nobody rotting away on the streets.

💜​Whether he is currently doting on you or degrading you, he always cooes over you in a sickenly sweet tone. You never see him mad even if you land a hit on him or yell at him, he never yells back but chides you. The nasty smile and the excited glimmer in his eyes are the only signs that he plans something. Initially Ferid seems to be fine if you hate him as long as you don't like someone else and obey him, though he doesn't mind playing with your fire a bit. As time passes by, he starts to yearn for a more tender side of yours, one where you are more vulnerable and long for him. It sparks into something bigger with more time as he finds his jealousy growing when you express yourself more openly around others and not him as it serves to irritate him. He tries to treat you more gently afterwards in an attempt to have you soften up. The vampire enjoys to spoil his s/o as it is and even if he chains you up and smears blood of others on your clothes, he still demands that you look pretty for him.

Crowley Eusford

❤️‍🔥​Differently from Ferid who disregards despite awareness his whole obsession. Crowley harbors some conflicted emotions. He doesn't know how to feel about falling in love with livestock, is overall unsure what to think of his emotions which dwell over inside of his heart. One of the most obvious things from the very beginning is that Crowley is very protective over his s/o. He sends Chess and Horn out so they can gather information on you and abuses his power himself to find out more about you. Livestock isn't treated the best so he most likely ends up making sure to privilege you alongside with your family, demands in return that you spend time with him though. Significantly more tame than Ferid since Crowley is more genuine with his attempts to gain your trust. He understands why you're skittish around him yet the sight bothers him. Longing for affection seems to consume him the more you are with him.

❤️‍🔥​You are a literal witness to him growing more possessive over you the more he gets to know you and his silent need for more fuels this. Crowley becomes unusually strict when it comes to you potentially liking someone else, a displeased look on his face as he grows more intimidating. Not quite as forceful but still ready to abuse his position and remind you that he's the one who allows your family a better life if you act up. At one point he eventually wants to taste your blood, something you dreaded yet there is no choice. Never allows any other vampire to taste your blood afterwards. If there isn't someone annoying him or you are disobeying him, the vampire is quite laid-back and lenient with you, you dare to say soft and gentle. His confusion eventually vanishes as he learns to embrace the warm feeling inside his chest, something he didn't expect to feel ever again.

❤️‍🔥​His lenience shines through as he allows you to spend time with family and friends even if he at one point doesn't let you go alone anymore. Chess and/or Horn accompany you all the time though they don't necessarily are in the same room as you. He respects your own boundaries as good as he can as he acknowledges that you have people who are important in your life. Your family is probably terrified for you since you're essentially a vampire's personal pet at this point, even if they get the better treatment in return. Any sane person stays away from you when you are permitted to walk outside due to the girls or Crowley himself being with you. He doesn't isolate you after all though he expects you to know that he doesn't like you having feelings for someone else. His calm presence alone is enough to intimidate humans as it is and if someone is still overly persistent with you, he has no problem grabbing the person by the neck and nearly strangling them in the process. Maybe you can stop him.

❤️‍🔥​Crowley isn't unnecessarily cruel nor sadistic like Ferid is even with his growing possessive behavior towards you and his expectations for you to show him your affection. That said every fool who believes that they can woo you in front of him or take you away from him will be personally drained of blood by him or simply strangled, he halts when it comes to your family and maybe your friends but will punish them somehow nevertheless. Whilst he has a soft spot for you, that doesn't mean that he's completely harmless either. Crowley isn't one to play mind games either, he's just brutal and maybe swift when he gets rid of someone. At least he doesn't rub it into your face that it's your fault until you break down in tears.

❤️‍🔥​It's more like slowly being caged in as Crowley expects you to be with him in the mansion more and more, even if he has to leave to fulfill his duty as the Thirteenth Progenitor. You're still allowed to go outside and visit family and friends as long as you inform him about it and he gives his permission since Chess and Horn won't let you leave as long as he hasn't told them that it's fine. You can exchange alternatively letters with your loved ones. He respects privacy as good as he can, gives you time alone if you want it. He tends to space out anyways when he thinks of you. There is a limit though as he wants to spend time with you, suspects that you don't want him near you in which case he turns more forceful. As much as he tries to be mindful, at one point he ends up forcing his love on you, blackmails you by reminding you that he's the one who guards your family and he only does this because he loves you.

❤️‍🔥​He won't hesitate to punish you even if he is reasonable. Depending on how far you went, he will either either drink your blood until you pass out, leave bruises or even break your bones. He's frightening since the soft shimmer in his eyes is gone, he even threatens you to throw your parents and friends under vampires to let them do as they want since they're just livestock, nothing more without his protection. If his s/o returns his love and indulges him in his desire, Crowley is fairly pleasant. He's playfully teasing you to embarrass you and fluster you and spoils you with whatever you want, reassures you that you don't have to worry about your family since they're under his protection. He is even as gentle as he can to not hurt you when he takes your blood though he sometimes loses himself in the sweet taste and takes a bit too much. Coaxes you into his arms or places you into his lap whenever he can.

#yandere owari no seraph #yandere seraph of the end #yandere ferid #yandere ferid bathory #yandere crowley #yandere crowley eusford

[misc-obeyme]

Hey!

I've seen a few another asks about MC and honestly, it's so interesting to see others characters. I guess that's one of the reasons why I love Obey, you can create OC, who's can be anyone, well maybe except a God?? I just don't know how that would be work lol

I have two angels, Gabriel and Agrael. Gabriel, Lucy and Michael I hc as triplet. Agrael his younger sister, who was the one who killed Lilith, and well, Gabe do everything he can to keep it as secret. He's loves Lucifer and Michael with Agrael more than others brothers, and was against the war, but at the end decided to let Lucy go, bc he doesn't have a choice, but trying to be neutral as much as he can. Agrael was just obedient soldier and wasn't bothered by brothers rebellion and just fight. Asmo fell in love with her, but she's didn't love him and attacked without resist, which hurt him a lot lol

Her only friend was Mammon, but it's didn't stop her from fight. But also she's didn't saw brothers as enemy. Has a human lover, but nobody knows who is it. She's usually disappears in human world, and Gabe cover for her, bc he's soft for his sister too much lol

Also there's two sorcerers. Crowley, who's father of my MC, famous merchant of the three worlds, who can find anything you want, except knowledge that he has a daughter lol

He's funny guy and tried very hard to reconnect with his daughter, but Anders prefer to punch him and not talking. He's not old as Sol, but still old and keep himself from aging with magic artefacts. He's probably slept with Asmo and I always laughed when thinking about it

And Alastair, who's wanted to be Solomon's apprentice, but well, Anders was the chosen one. He's taking that as insult, bc he's more knowledgeable and powerful, and now hate Anders and wished to kill her, and tried a few times lol

Do you have another characters? I would like to read about them too!

Hello again!

Yes, I really love to hear about everybody's MCs and OCs!! They're so interesting, it's so fun to see what people have come up with! Especially since I feel like there is so much space for such things in Obey Me. They really left a lot of stuff unexplained and there are three whole worlds that we can fill in with our own characters!

Okay, I kinda feel like the only way you could have a character who was a god would be if it was like somehow a rival to the "Father" character from the Celestial Realm. I kinda think it'd be interesting if the Greek gods existed, for instance. Since we have Cerberus, it kinda stands to reason that we'd also have Hades and Zeus and the rest. But you know, maybe they're retired? LOL.

Anyway...

Now that is an interesting concept! I never once thought about who killed Lilith. What a burden to bear! I love Agrael already she sounds amazing! I love that she's now the one with a human lover, even after the war and everything that happened with Lilith! Man love can make you do crazy things! And Gabriel is just trying to be a good big brother!

Crowley and Alastair omg I love them. Crowley sounds great, but I do feel bad for Anders lol. Let her punch him! It would probably be very therapeutic! Alastair is crazy if he thinks Solomon would ever let anyone kill his apprentice, but I'm impressed that he still tried. I get the impression that Anders would be difficult to kill, but he's still gonna try it seems!

Ah well I do have my demon OC Arsenios. And I have some other OCs that show up in his story, but I can't talk about them too much without giving away spoilers for his story. There are a couple of angels and a reaper.

I have a couple more human characters that are related to Ciaran and their story. There's their older sister Fiadh who I am quite fond of. She gets help from both a witch and a sorcerer when Ciaran goes missing and they help her get to the Devildom to find Ciaran.

I do have another demon OC, but I've never talked about her... Her name is Liviana and she's the librarian at RAD. She knows Arrie, but I just created her because I wanted to lol. I really love libraries and I was thinking about demon professors/RAD staff members and I just sorta daydreamed her into existence.

I do have one other reaper OC but she doesn't have a name yet. And she's too involved with one of the other characters from Arrie's story for me to talk about her too much...

OOPS now I have revealed my secret which is that I have a whole STASH of OCs that I never talk about lol.

Anyway, I love hearing about all your characters! Thank you for sharing them with me! 💕

#I kinda feel like once you've created one OC it's hard to stop #they just keep showing up #like hey here's another idea! #or hey here's an OC that needs to exist because of your first OC's story! #but also that second OC has their whole own story!! #and on and on #I love it lol #obey me #obey me oc #obey me mc #sansarawheelvictim #cc mutuals #misc answers

[bloodcreature]

ive been seeing this a lot and i wanna talk about it…

some people are hoping that metatron put something in the coffee to make aziraphale choose heaven over crowley, but oh my god i cannot even begin to tell you how much i hope that is NOT the case. and here's why.

since the very first episode of the show, and even now in season 2, we've been able to catch glimpses of aziraphale and crowley's past encounters, and they say a lot about who they both are and their beliefs. aziraphale especially, because as stubborn as crowley is, it’s hard not to see that he’s been doing whatever he wants ever since he fell, despite heaven and hell.

it's no question that azi's a good guy, perhaps even too good for his own sake. he's always wanted to do the right thing and hoped heaven would do it, but obviously that's not what happens. but he still believes after all this time, after this millenia of being an angel, that heaven is good, at least at it's core. despite everything, heaven is good, and hell is bad.

he cannot shake that foundation within him (and anytime he's ever come close it was because of crowley), he always gets reeled back to it in the end. even after being cast aside by heaven after armageddon, he goes right back when he sees there’s a chance that HE can make it better. and have CROWLEY there too, at the same time.

but thats what aziraphale wants. he wants crowley to have another chance at being an angel, he wants to do good with him, like they’ve always done on earth. but he’s never asked crowley what he actually wants. and vice versa, too. these idiots don’t talk.

aziraphale is terrified of heaven being, at it’s core, anything but perfect. he doesn't even entertain the possibility. he knows some people there are corrupt but that's as far as he goes. because heaven is still pure, GOD is pure, and now he has the chance to fully explore that purity, and use it for the real good like he believes it was always meant to be used for.

after all of this perseverance from aziraphale, this mental chain that binds him to heaven, this deep, biased hope he has to make it all better, if all of his crazy religious baggage is just tossed aside as a mere "something was in the coffee" it just won't sit right with me

(also, as a little side note, i don’t think azi’s trauma is the full reason behind his decision, as bravery is a big overlooked part too. but for now i’ll leave it at that)

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #innefable husbands #this barbie is NOT opening up again!

[moonlight-phobia]

Soul Heart

Soul-heart belongs to Ed Goldfarb

Light Twisted Wonderland x Reader

References to Fairy Gala and Reincarnation AU

Enjoy!~

One of a kind, Forged of steel

From a beautiful mind, And with a mighty heart

That drove men apart..

“Have you heard the Ramshackle prefect speak before? I don’t think I’ve ever heard them say a single thing since they got here.” Two students were walking next to each other down the hallway of the prestigious college.

“That cat they have does a lot of the talking maybe it’s just that.” A shrug from the other young gentleman as they would focus their attention forward “I heard they do a lot of work with House Warden Riddle though. So they have to be good at rules-“

“Probably just the cat then- but you do know the Fairy Gala is coming up! Maybe we can hear them then. I know it’s supposed to be some sort of fancy dress up but there’s performances as well-!” Not aware to presence around the corner that was sulking deep into the shadows. Not that this figure meant to stay hidden..but rather there was no going to try and butt in on a conversation like that.

A forgotten plain, Where only the damaged remained

That's where I found my destiny, One more lost refugee

Come with me

Hands settling over the heart and taking a deep breath- that’s what Grim would see though watching the prefect

“Are you sure you want to do this- you haven’t really spoken I know..you had the accident and all but-“ for once the cat sounds really serious but of course he’s going to be this is a really delicate manor to consider.

“I don’t want to disappoint though Queen Clarion asked me..me of all people..” mind wandering back to the moment of being called to Crowley’s office and meeting the Queen of fairies. It didn’t matter if one was good or evil the fairies all alike still carried traditions to invite the seasons.

“Nyah! You could always ask Azul you know for a contr..nevermind that’s a bad idea..”

“Very bad.” After dealing with so many blots of course and especially Azul’s..had left some traumatic memories. The fight wasn’t easy- watching friends get hurt and tossed around like children toy’s was no better! Sleepless nights is what was usually meet and even more so with this extra added responsibility of singing for the Gala.

“Least you don’t have to worry about your outfit though nyah..and neither do I! The outfits we got are so fancy and nice!” It reminded the prefect of a pantsuit with a dip in the chest but that part was covered with a shiny material that reflected colors. The wrist to elbows covered in golden branches and the same applies to the pants. Paired with a silky cape that started at the shoulders and went downwards like a train.

“They are- they put so much work into them for such tiny things..they were really nice though when we were here during the winter break..” arm rubbing over their shoulder for a moment. It had only been about a month since Jamil had overbloted and even now still having some body pain. The prefect had never voiced their concerns or injuries to anyone aside from the ghost in the house.

“Nyah! Let’s try it again-! The song- you said the song was from your home that’s something you remember right?”

“Yes but there’s some parts that I don’t remember I’ll have to improvise..”

Feel my Soul-Heart

If you've been seeking a new start

Let me be your guiding light

'Til the end of the night

“Stay still- I’m not done yet sweet potato.” The blonde haired man would grunt lowly gently drifting the thin gold eyeliner pen against the eyelids of the prefect “I know you’re impatient for the event as much as I but you have to look perfect.”

Anything less then perfect wouldn’t be accepted by Vil at all! This was the coming of spring event and without the fairies a lot of the college wouldn’t be able to run- especially when it came to the light and fire fairies. Otherwise this school would have failed years age along with the surrounding dorms designed for the reflections of the students homeland.

“I know but- eh hey!” Feeling the cold sensation against your face “tell me at least when you’re going to spray that stu-“

“Don’t open your eyes I’m not done yet and I still have to do your hair too and make sure the veil as well, don’t even get me started with this golden lipstick we will do that last don’t you dare smug it. Your outfit is more expensive then my foundation.”

“I won’t..there’s only a few hours left though till the event-“

“Sweet potato you’ll be okay..just do it like we went through for the last few weeks and nothing will go wrong.”

Close your eyes

Know my Soul-Heart

Keeping watch over the rampart

Let me be your shining star

The event had finally begun though and there was so many people too. Everyone dressed in white, gold, shades of pinks and blues. Ducking back behind the curtains and taking a deep breath

“Hey!” A water fairy would chirp up softly, little wings fluttering at a slow pace in front of you “It’s just for a little~ I’m sure our Queen will be really happy you know she wouldn’t have choose you otherwise!”

“Yea! Show those boys who’s really the best singer here in Night Raven!” A fire fairy would blaze out its flames seeming much brighter then normally.

One of the smaller craft fairies adjusting the opal necklace around the front of your outfit “alright you’re all set! Come on now let’s go-“

Being dragged out onto the stage wasn’t the best feeling but what could be done about this anymore though- so it’s time to really start this isn’t it..the quiet commence of music-

Leading bright from afar

From whoever you were

To whoever you are

Feel my Soul-Heart now

It felt more then just three minutes of singing now reaching the end of the song that had been sung in the past. Students enjoying the real start of the Gala for a song of another world. Perhaps even if it’s a single day it’s peaceful and feels quite relaxing. The silence taking over the crowd for a moment before the uproar followed.

The rest of the Gala had gone by pretty smoothly along with words of praise from the Fairy Queen and HeadMaster Crowley as well.

So why does it feel like not all of it was completely done though..it felt like there could have been more but perhaps leaving it this way was for the best. Heading out the double French doors and onto the balcony to relax with the cold air.

Eyes closing and feeling the heavy wisp of cold and strong air against your cheeks. Face scrunching in slight displeasure for a moment as tears would start building up for a moment- a mix of the harsh weather the ending call of winter having its last breath to the spring bringers.

“Dry all your tears”

“I've returned after so many years”

“Let the creatures I cherish flourish now”

“This is my vow”

Golden decorated eyelashes opening up to show off no other then the horned man who had become more like a figment of imagination with the amount of rare times he show up around Ramshackle. Black nails gently drifting under your cheeks to collect the clear liquid.

“Can you sing a bit more for me? For me only - my orange blossom..”

His voice barely above a whisper with the way he spoke. Like the man was trying to make sure no one else heard him or that of the human.

How many years had he been waiting for such confirmation though..the number is unknown but this is what he’s been waiting for. His lovely orange blossom back after a life time of waiting..

“Know forever my Soul-Heart”

“Anyone seeking a new start”

“Let me be your guiding light”

“'Til the end of the night”

“Tsunotarou-“

“Call me Malleus. My Orange Blossom.”

#twisted wonderland #x reader #malleus x yuu #twst malleus #malleus #fairy gala #Pokémon song #malleus x reader #twst #grim twst #twsited wonderland x reader #twst x reader

[bustyasianbeautiespod]

I agree so much with the coffee theories vs Aziraphale Faith Journey thing and, not to just complain about the fandom, but I feel like a lot of people are of the mind that Aziraphale is more…certain? than he is? Like I think a lot of people believe that once Aziraphale was aware heaven was Bad, it would be easy for him to never believe in anything like heaven ever again but I feel like when so much of your identity was tied to, and even given to you, by this system/community, then it’s really really hard to just leave all that behind, especially in Aziraphale’s case where he was offered to come back because hey it’ll be better this time!

I cannot stress enough that Aziraphale genuinely believed he was gonna make things better. And it’s not even a stupid thing to believe! The metatron seeked him out specifically after everything he has done against heaven citing those things he has done against heaven as reasons why he seeked Aziraphale out. That + it’s not like he saw metatron’s “steal your man look (as Crystal calls it)” to Crowley = yeah it’s easy to think why Aziraphale would actually want to go up there.

Also, and I do regret never being able to interface with Aziraphale’s decision like this during the podcast (I simply did not think of it at the time) but I think there’s good reason to believe that Aziraphale does not know that the second coming is apocalyptic? He wasn’t there during the meetings, he doesn’t have the info that Crowley has, and I feel like “the second coming” to Aziraphale may not fully translate to “and then the world will blow up and there will be a war between heaven and hell”. As a catholic I’ve never been taught that the second coming is bad or the end of the world. Honestly the only concrete scripture I can recite about it is he will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead and his kingdom will have no end, which is from the new version of the apostles creed that they started doing in mass after the big catholic mass proceedings change couple years back.

I do go back and forth on whether Aziraphale Knows what the second coming entails (maybe all angels just know of it inherently as apocalyptic, but also, i doubt that was in the divine primer since it’s just the back up apocalypse) but I think it’s a reasonable thing to consider either way. The first two points are already pretty solid in the “Aziraphale has reason to go” department. But if the argument is “if there really WAS no trickery, then why did he still step in after the second coming reveal?” well. maybe the second coming is not automatically apocalypse to him?

-Grey

#asks

[phantomram-b00]

Y’all, I know the Coffee Theory is kinda a mixed bag. But man, I have never wanted a theory to be true in my entire life….buttttttt I think it unlikely for this to be confirm and I’m content with this.

(edit: warning! If you haven’t seen Season 2/1 of Good Omen or just new, please be warn that this does contain HEAVY SPOILERS for the show don’t read this just yet or you can read it, you’re free to do whichever :)) just don’t say I didn’t warn you)

See here the thing, this theory, does sound interesting, it could work within good omen….on paper. Only because, I don’t know exactly how it would work for Aziraphale’s character; considering the more I think about it, the more I am realize it wouldn’t have matter if the coffee was miracle,drugged or anything. Aziraphale is still an Angel, I made a post of it where I’ve mention that Aziraphale, yes, he understand/realized that Heaven is just Hell in different font and colors; he still is grasping onto the hope that hopefully that there still good within them. But also Aziraphale would do ANYTHING to make thing better for not only humanity but for Crowley as that just how hospitable and selfless he is; and it to a fault and that’s what make Aziraphale such a complex character and why he’s absolutely my favorite character (besides also Crowley they both my favorite idiots). He might be good and have good intention but good intentions ≠ good moral. Especially since this isn’t exactly the first time he choose heaven above everything for the sake of wanting to be “good” and not Fall, he literally had a panic of possible falling just because he lied even though Heaven (during the Job episode) and the Archangels treat him like he odd one out (hell, even Crowley had to endure that even when he was aziraphale in disguise in Episode 6 of season 1 when Gabriel said “shut your stupid mouth and die already” and other insult but that one as you see in season 2 really got to Crowley.) this is all Aziraphale’s religious trauma coming to light and also his response to it all; this is him going through a character development and I’m excited for season 3 to see where it goes and just hope he and Crowley get the happily ever after they so honorably deserves like all the couples we’ve seen in this show.

Now with that out the way, I will give this theory some merit/defense: if this theory is true, this could be an interesting move on heaven as it will show…just how far they’re willing to go to make sure they make Armageddon and win this holy war against Hell. So them possibility mind-controlling Aziraphale just show their morals are, but frankly, who didn’t know that heaven is bad? They’re the same people who was going to kill Jobs kids and everything he owned to turn around and say “at least you can get more” with a pat on the back. And you know, this theory does make aziraphale less responsible for his decision which ultimately will make episode 6 of season 2 possible more sadder as this wouldn’t have been Aziraphale’s choice, (then again he didn’t exactly have a choice to begin with.) as well as giving Crowley more justification as why he could never say he 100% good and also maybe give Aziraphale more trauma. But I do understand for those whom want this theory to be true as it could give a reason of the coffee and also a reason to want to write heaven and all the archangel on the death notebook, as i do have those moment to maybe make the situation while just as heartbreaking for both Crowley and Aziraphale also give hope that this wasn’t exactly 100% Aziraphale’s choice. (But also give people who like protective Crowley to rescue Aziraphale, which ngl I can see it whether theory is true or not considering something Crowley said while Aziraphale was in Scotland)

Honestly I’m torn with this, I wanted to rant about this since while I do think the theory can be a interesting plot twist to have though I do think it kinda diminishes Aziraphale’s character and his arc as a whole. But I will say, Crowley would most definitely go feral and deliver his revenge serve cold.

#good omens #coffee theory #Crowley #Aziraphale #Don’t take it away from me because you don’t know what it means to me #ineffable husbands #ineffable morons #the brainrot is brainrotting #this show ruined my life in a good way #my bread and butter #I want more of this show

[hyperionshipping]

f/o question in my head: how would these f/os take a bath with you? (Bubbles, bath bombs, is it silly or are they being romantic etc) forrrrrr Hodgins, Sweets, Grog, Jack, Crowley AND Lucifer

Buckle in folks! Long answer!!

Hodgins:

So, it depends. Back at his old place, he had a BIG tub with jets and everything. It could easily fit two people.

He has ALL the bath stuff. Bathbombs, bath salts, bubbles, anything else you could want. He only takes 'em once in a while.

If I asked him to take a bath with me? He'd go all out. Nice smelling bathbomb, bubbles, some salts, even candles!

He even holds his tongue when I want the water hotter than he's used too. He wraps his arms around me and holds me to his chest.

Sweets:

Oh you know he secretly enjoys bubble baths still. But, I think baths sometimes agrivate his scars. So it depends if he'll take one.

Sweets hasn't totally fit in a tub since he was little.

If I asked, he'd totally join me, even if he was a little blushy over it. I don't think he's had a lover who wanted to share the tub with him. And, really, it's a very vulnerable time for him.

Both of us could be the one in front. Depends on the night.

Grog:

OH MY GOD!!!!!!! YAY. OKAY I CAN TALK ABOUT HALFORC IDEAS.

Fern grew up with his family who was group of orcs that travelled around. They were ALL about hygiene and cleanliness.

They especially raised Fern to take much care of his hair. Much like dwarves, hair played a very important role in the culture of orcs!

So, Fern grew up taking communal baths. Helping the orclings clean up, to washing the elders of the group which was seen as a high honor helping the oldest.

When he starts to travel with Vox Machina, he's unused to bathhouses. He doesn't feel out of place-- he is quite use to communal baths, but they're just different enough.

Now, Grog isn't dirty but he's a big ol' half giant whose clan kicked him out. He's used to being dirty.

When Fern first offers to help clean him? Grog is a little dumbfounded. When Fern gets flustered and says nevermind, Grog tells him No! He would like that. He just never had anyone help him.

It's rare the two would get to "properly" bathe together, but they've absolutely cleaned up together.

Grog is the first to help clean Fern's hair. In his group, only close family members or lovers would ever clean each others hair. As said before, an orc's hair is a sense of their pride, and, it's something very vulnerable to trust another to not ruin their hair.

Grog was always worried whenever Fern let him touch his hair. But Fern would always, always say he trusted Grog.

Jack:

Jack would want you to believe he doesn't use bubbles in his bath but he does. Add on candles, bathbombs, salts, candles, anything else that screams "at-home spa day" and you have Jack's personal bath days.

With me there, it's mostly the same. Expect Jacks always touchy. If I want a relaxing bath I have to tell him or else... well... we get distracted.

Jack likes expensive smelling bathbombs. And ones that leave his skin smooth. He's less picky about the bubbles and salts he uses.

Crowley:

Crowley is renting out a heartshaped tub for us, light pink water with bubbles and salts that smell sweet. He sets it up as something romantic.

Just the two of us, low lights, flickering candles, perhaps even petals in the tub, water that is *just* the right temperature, and afterwards, despite never getting out? He has warm, fresh towels everytime.

He's not against a bath that leads to sex, but he truly loves indulging in just sitting with me in the warm water, holding me to his chest and letting his problems melt away. Even if it's just for a couple hours.

Lucifer:

Lucifer would indulge me on baths. His tub is large enough to comfortably fit us both. He draws the bath for me.

He gets bathbombs with roses in it, bubbles, salts that relax, candles, music playing softly.

Baths with him can, and often DO lead to sex. But that's only because I want him so damn bad. He's totally fine with relaxing in the bath, but I always seem to want something else when we take baths together.

Lucifer would like "fresh" smelling bathbombs. He'll use two in the baths he makes. Or, like, flowery scents! He loves a nice lavender scented thing for the relaxation it brings!

#tricks answers #thank you Bev I really liked this 8)

[elysia-nsimp]

Okay so um, this is a WIP of my Yuusona. I’m not sure how I feel about sharing my art online yet so please be nice lmao. (Also pls excuse my messy handwriting thankiess)

Information on the sketch!

Comet “Yuu” Yuusonya

She/Her pronouns / 16 years old

5’1 (155 cm) / about 100 lbs

Birthday: July 18

Dominant hand: right

Homeland: Unknown

Grade: Freshman

Class: Class A

Club: Gargoyle Study Club

Best subject: Astrology

Favorite food: Ice cream

Least fav food: Bacon

Talent: Psychoanalysis

Comet is a shy individual. She has really bad social anxiety and upon first arriving at NRC (much like canon Yuu, being transported from another dimension), she pretended to be a boy to blend in with the rest of the students. She’s skilled in cosplay and makeup, so it was a relatively easy task for her. She went by Kuiper (pronounced like Cooper) because it’s a space related name, much like her actual name. She’s asexual, heteroromantic, and considering the possibility of her being polyamorous.

Comet loves space and has studied constellations for years now, and she’d love to talk to someone about them. Her whole aesthetic is a mix of cottagecore and space academia. On top of cosplay and astrology, Comet loves art (including drawing, writing, theatre (she’s a little too shy for the stage though), dance, singing, fashion, all sorts of stuff—she especially loves writing poetry!), architecture, and caring for other people. Consider her a very *very* shy mom friend. She also loves animals.

Comet’s got major trust issues. And she’s Terrified of Men. And she doesn’t like it when people touch her unprompted in any way, shape, or form. So anyway things are going grEAT FOR HER /s

There’s a lot that goes into Comet, but that’s just some basics I suppose. I’ll make lots of posts about her lol.

Now for some important relationships! Since she came from another world and has no damn clue where she is or how to get home, she had to start completely over from scratch upon reaching Twisted Wonderland.

Crowley — she resents him because to her, it seems like he isn’t even trying to find her a way home, and he hasn’t done basically anything to help her. Ramshackle is falling apart on her and he isn’t doing anything! She sleeps in fear of the ceiling collapsing in on her.

Ace & Deuce — her first friends. If you can even call them that, that is… she tolerates their chaos/j. They’re kind of the only people she feels comfortable around, if that. She’s kind of scared of their chaos though.

Trey — they both enjoy baking. It’s like one of Comet’s Favorite Things To Do Ever so when she found out that not only was Trey an older brother, but a baker too? She tried her best to subtly tell him she wanted to be friends without actually having to tell him.

Floyd — Tbh one day Floyd just picked her up and took her home and she hasn’t been able to shake him since. (Except not literally because she would not hesitate to kick a tall and intimidating man who tried to touch her without asking first.) Anyway she realized pretty quick that she couldn’t get rid of Floyd and just accepted his presence. They’re best friends now.

Jade — Met Jade because of Floyd. She thinks he’s alright. She thinks he’s pretty too but she’d never say that. Okay maybe both the Leechs are pretty. Shhhh. Anyway she admires Jade’s passion for the things he likes and enjoys his presence.

Idia — they played Minecraft together once (barely talking) and now she’s decided that they’re friends as a result

Malleus — she never understood why people thought he was so intimidating. Since she’s in his club, she’s spoken to him several times. Yeah he’s tall and kind of scary-looking, but he seems nice so she considers him a friend.

Sebek — bro she hates Sebek, like she’d never say it but she finds him so annoying. Like please stop sir she’s just trying to ask Malleus what his favorite flavor of ice cream is… what do you mean he hasn’t had ice cream before??

Grim — she was so annoyed by him at first and wanted nothing to do with him, but once she got stuck with him in Ramshackle, she was quick to adopt him as her cat and now she takes care of him like she’s his mother.

So yeah! There’s an introduction to Comet! The tag “CometYuusonya” will be used to keep track of all info or shitposts I make regarding her!! Tysm for reading ^^

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst yuusona #twst yuu #twst x yuu #twst oc #oc stuff #twisted wonderland oc #oc artwork #wip art #oc art #CometYuusonya

[hellgivenhasmoved]

davina through the series || season 11

when dean's mark was removed and the moment amara / the darkness was released , davina felt it. an imbalance in power along with darkness itself. ( especially since she's naturally drawn to darkness ) she instantly called sam and dean to figure out what happened but there was no answer. at least not for a few hours .

with rowena attempting to establish a new coven , davina tried to avoid her due to the fact that she knew that the witch would try to get her join her mega coven. and when rowena confronted her with the offer , davina declined , stating that she never wanted to be apart of a coven but she'd help rowena if the woman ever needed anything.

davina at this point, has basically taken residence within the winchester's bunker , helping to find a way to stop amara from destroying their world. while also , working on her own magic and learning how to be a hunter.

when sam began to have visions of lucifer and the cage  and wanting to talk to lucifer , davina was on dean's side. stating that she thought it was a bad idea as well. which led her to tag along with sam to hell just so he could talk to the archangel . 

things seemed fine during the talk until sam ended up in the cage with lucifer during the talk, due to rowena twisting the spell . while crowley led rowena away and back to the palace , davina waited , keeping a close eye on lucifer and sam , watching when castiel and dean end up in the very same cage . 

when it was revealed that castiel said yes to lucifer , in order to help defeat amara and finding out that he also snapped rowena's neck ( not knowing that the witch actually was alive )  , davina was furious .

cases came and went and davina continued working in between finding ways to stop amara and finding a way to get lucifer out of castiel. a surprise phone call though from rowena cause davina to drop what she was doing and go to where the witch was.

when she arrived at the abandoned factory , she saw amara there , laying down and rowena healing her. the older witch asked her  for assistance and though the little witch  was uneasy , she agreed.  after amara was healed , the primordial being and davina had  a chat. amara took notice of davina's unease  and found her despite that , intriguing.  mostly due to the darkness davina held.

 after amara shook heaven , davina helped sam , dean , crowley and rowena trap lucifer to get castiel to kick him out from his vessel.  a plan that failed all together.

while rowena went off to louisiana to visit another witch , davina stayed back , refusing to go . instead , she helped sam , dean , chuck and lucifer come up with a plan to help cage amara. but just as they went to start the plan up , davina was forbidden to contribute to it. she was forced to stay to the side so that she wouldn't get harmed .

with god dying , davina races with the others to find a way to help save chuck from dying and helps rowena build a bomb full of souls for dean to destroy amara with.

#timeline. #long post tw