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audisive · 20 days

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♪ BROOKLYN BABY. (💌) – previous part

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: the 141 believes the scot now.

tags: fluff, romance, soft!simon, you're basically their mom atp lol, bickering, there's a bet between gaz n soap, gaz secretly wants you shh, ooc characters, not proofread, price being the gentleman he is, he's seriously just watching everything unfold

It's not always that Ghost is willing to let the 141 stay at his house for their traditions – which is just drinking beer and watching sports, really. In fact, he's always said something about his place being empty, so they always settled on someone else's. They stop asking after a year, and in turn, he stops having reasons.

It's not until Soap pops the question again when everyone else's houses are unavailable for a variety of reasons, his being that he left his faucet on and now his shitty apartment is flooded. You can only imagine the suspicion and shock when Ghost agrees (or, rather, simply grunts).

The drive is long, nothing short of 5 hours, and Soap spends the better half of it bickering with either Gaz or Ghost. He falls asleep by the next half, and when he awakes, he gawks at the lovely looking house before their car. There's two stories to it, a balcony, a front porch, and there's no doubt that there's a backyard.

Contrary to popular belief, no, it is not all black or plain at all. It's all equally surprising to them. The Brit isn't the type to care about the appearance and state of a house, usually. They do envision him in a mostly empty apartment with only a bed and a bathroom, though.

There's a delicate touch to where a rough man lives; the smell is almost heavenly when they enter the house. It's homely, the scent of newly washed sheets and lingering smell of food; there's a cat perched on the living room table that Ghost scratches the head of lovingly in a way that's so casual and natural. It's like they're at the gates of–

"Simon!" Heaven's bells ring in their ears, luring them into the doorway of the living room, and the sound of feet padding against the cold floor. There comes a soft-looking thing running into Ghost's arms, completely engulfing you.

You only notice the three familiar faces of your boyfriend's team members – though you know he considers them family if anything – when you pull away. An angel clad in only a cami top, shorts, and Simon's hand around your waist, you turn to look at the group with a surprised look on your pretty – Soap thinks that God, you're so pretty – face. "Oh, hi," you smile sweetly, obviously awkward at the silence and the staring.

"It's been a while," Ever the gentleman, the gruff voice is the first to speak up with your name uttered, the only who's actually met you – John Price. Soap is too enamored with the way you hold yourself and the fact that, holy fuck, even your name's pretty. Gaz raises a brow at the captain's greeting.

You smile once more – a genuine one now. "Nice to see you again, John."

"'S rude to stare, Johnny." Simon speaks out, a smirk under the mask. "Please excuse him, miss," Gaz adds, this beautiful man, and offers a charming smile.

"You must be Gaz," you hold your hand out, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Kyle forgets that a hand could be this soft and gentle, "and please, call me Kyle." He barely stops himself from turning your hand in his to kiss the back of it like one should to a lady so fair; his lieutenant has good taste in women, he'll give him that. And when you're out of the area, Soap is sure to rub it in Gaz's face. I told ye so! LT wis hidin' somethin' from us. A pretty something, that is. You don't miss the way he slips a twenty-dollar bill into the Scottish man's hand.

"Glad tae meet ye," Soap finally says, winking. "Understand why he wis hidin' a bonnie lass like ye from us." There's a mischievous glint in his eye, almost naturally so.

"A'm hurt, LT, but whit can I do? After all, we're just a couple o' brutes, arenae we?"

Simon watches in amusement, "you'll live." Soap is quick to move to your side as you lead the small group of hulking men through your shared home after that.

Simon is visibly more relaxed with you around. He's comfortable, that much is a given, with the way he's taking up most of the thankfully large couch with his manspreading. So is the 141. They're pampered like spoiled children (or pets, really) through the whole day.

Instead of just beer and faucet water, they're offered a variety of drinks in the kitchen that's enough to be considered a private bar. Instead of an empty belly unhealthily stuffed with beer and a mix of mediocre takeout, they're met with warm homecooked meals. They lose track of time quickly; the night falls by the time they've tired themselves out, and they've had not one, but two meals thanks to you.

(They're sure to commend your cooking skills and think of how lucky this tall brute of a man is blessed with a woman so soft and pliant and wonderful and– while Price is the one to be the most grateful, Soap compliments you the most. "A can practically taste the love." You laugh in turn.)

Gaz is the first to speak after a meal so lovely, they could simply just sleep on the floor comfortably and wake to the same smell of home. "It's a bit late, love, we should probably go."

"Thank you for having us," Price smiles down at you kindly.

"Ye've been lovely, bonnie." He wants to stay some more.

"Wait," you stop them, looking up at Simon for further approval. He's already looking at you with a reassuring brush of his thumb on the side of your hip and a nod. You turn your eyes back at them. "It's already late, you three should stay the night. We have enough room for everyone."

There comes, "we don't wanna intrude," then, "we can take care of ourselves, it's alright."

"Please, I insist." Your smile brightens, "I'll even cook breakfast before you leave."

The mohawk moves with a sigh, "now tha's just no' fair, lass. How are we gonna say no tae that?" You giggle. Only then do they find themselves tucked away in the guest room, and boy, you were right when you said it could fit them all if not more.

On the way to the bathroom in the late hours of the night, Soap catches a glimpse of light through the crack of your bedroom door to see his oh-so strong lieutenant, vulnerable in your arms. There's something natural about the way you cradle the large man and kiss his hair like it's part of your DNA, like you're programmed to do that 'cause Soap thinks you're simply unreal.

He's proud of his lieutenant, this lucky bastard. He turns another blind eye once more, but he's paid in full with another fulfilling meal by the morning.

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matchingbatbites · 7 months

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pretty baby (got a funny feelin')

Okay so here's the deal. I haven't been able to write anything consistently for the last month, and then yesterday A Demon possessed me and made me write 3k of Steddie + Gareth, and it's surprisingly helping me get out of my funk, so here's the first 1.1k which is all just Steddie fantasizing about fucking Gareth while getting off. And since it's not actually mentioned in the story, Gareth is 18 and Steve/Eddie are 21/22.

This fic is 18+ | CW: Includes cis female Steve, heavy daddy kink & splash of mommy kink, Dom Eddie & princess Stevie, vaginal fingering, fantasizing about someone, a singular affectionate use of slut, and a shit ton of dirty talk.

“Hey Teddy, do you think Gareth is cute?”

Eddie looks up from his laptop, from the campaign notes he’s been working on for the upcoming Hellfire session, just as his girlfriend drops down next to him on the couch and asks the question from out of nowhere.

“I mean, yeah? He reminds me of you, actually, with the baby face and the nice hair. Why?”

Stevie grins and bites into her lip, and she has that sparkle in her eye that usually means trouble. Eddie braces himself for whatever could possibly come out of her mouth next, but he isn't expecting it to be “We should fuck him. Like, invite him to join us.”

The man blinks and lets that process for just a moment, before he asks a simple “Huh?”

“Baby, he obviously likes you,” the girl replies with a shrug and a grin. “And he clearly thinks I'm hot; I've caught him staring at me during pool parties more than once.”

She leans forward to rest her chin on Eddie's shoulder, hitting him with the full force of her gleaming hazel eyes. “He's such a darling, and gets flustered so easily. It could be so much fun, daddy, having a sweet baby to play with.”

Here’s the thing. Eddie won't lie and say he hasn't thought about it before, not when the boy is so clearly in the range of Eddie's type. It's not something he's ever lingered on, Gareth's age always being a deterrent, and then Eddie's relationship with Stevie. Still, he meant it when he said that Gareth reminds him of Stevie; their soft faces and gently curling hair, their bright smiles and sweet pouts.

Just the suggestion is enough to kick Eddie's overactive imagination into gear, instantly conjuring the image of the two of them, of Eddie's sweet, pretty babies spread out on messy sheets, babbling and begging him for more more more. He inhales sharply and pushes a hand into Stevie's hair, tugging just enough to make her gasp.

“Is that what you want, sweetheart? You don't just wanna be daddy's babygirl anymore? Wanna be a mommy with your own sweet baby?”

That must strike a chord with Stevie, because she whines high and shakes her head as best as she can. “Our baby, not just mine. Want us to fucking wreck him, wanna see him cry and beg for us, daddy.”

Holy fuck. Eddie's princess seems to have a sadistic streak that he wasn't aware of. Knowing how bitchy and condescending she can be in the right scenario, it's something he can't wait to cultivate and grow, to teach her how to wield it to wring pleasure out of someone else.

Eddie moves his laptop to the side so he can grab Stevie and pull her into his lap, her gorgeous, plush thighs straddling his own. The shorts she’s wearing are fucking tiny, and he uses that to his advantage as he slides his hand into them - no underwear today, god what a sweet, eager slut she is - and pushes two fingers into her without preamble.

“Shit, babylove, you're so fucking wet. You've been thinking about this a lot, huh? Thinking dirty things about our little Gare Bear?” he asks, and grins when she nods. “Yeah, you have. C'me on, tell daddy what you've been thinking about.”

Stevie hums and pushes her hips down, grinding her pussy onto his fingers as her hands find a home on Eddie's shoulders. “Been thinkin' about lots of things. I want him to come in me, then I want you to fuck him while he eats me out, cleans out my pussy. Wanna watch him choke on your dick while I jerk him off, make sure he doesn't come until you do. Want him to ride you while I sit on your face, daddy.”

Jesus fucking Christ, she's really out to kill him. Eddie uses his grip on Stevie's hair to pull her into a searing kiss, needing to taste the inside of her filthy mouth. He pushes his fingers deeper into her, rubbing up against the spot that makes her whole body jerk in pleasure and swallowing the needy moan it earns him.

Nails scrape over his neck and Stevie gives a sharp bite into his lower lip before pulling back. “'m not done yet, daddy. Thought you wanted to hear all of my ideas?”

“Oh, I do, baby, I do. Tell me what other naughty things you've been thinking about Gareth, sweetheart.”

She grins and keens when Eddie adds another finger, finally fucking her properly with them as she goes on, “Want you both in me at the same time, want you to fuck me and come in me, stuff me full. Want him between us, our own lil’ daisy chain, want him so fucked out he can’t even think.” Fuck shit fuck.

Eddie can tell that she's close, the way her nails dig into his shoulders and her thighs start to shake are all the warning he needs. He doesn’t let up at all, and the sound of skin meeting skin rings though the room under the sound of their talking. “You gonna let Gare fuck your pretty tits, princess? Gonna be a good mommy and let him suck on them while he fucks you?”

The nod she gives is eager, perfectly matching her needy “Good, I’ll be so good, daddy. Gonna come, can I? Please let me come, daddy.”

"Yeah, Stevie, come for me. Come on daddy's fingers, baby."

The girl gasps as she peaks, then lets out a long, high whine as Eddie fucks her through it, drawing out her orgasm until she's trembling in his hands. Eddie could probably wring another one out of her if he wanted to, but he's so high strung himself that he's dangerously close to coming in his pants. Instead he pulls his fingers from her and scrambles to get his sweatpants down far enough to grab his dick with his slick-covered hand, needing to come as soon as possible.

Stevie whines again and drops her forehead to his shoulder, watching as he fucks into his fist. "Fuck, give it to me, daddy. Love your cock, can't wait to see Gareth crying on it like I do, all whiny and needy. You're gonna fuck our pretty baby so good right? Fuck him good for me?"

That's all Eddie needs, the mental image of his dick filling the younger boy up so good, stretching him open, and he's fucking gone. He spills over his fist with a punched out groan, stroking himself through it until he's completely wrung out. Stevie is pressing a line of kisses along his jaw as he comes down, and he hums, leaning into the touch.

"So, I think you're just as into that as I am, huh daddy?"

Eddie just chuckles weakly and wipes his hand on his pants, knowing they're probably about to head up to the shower. "You know what that means, right?" Stevie gives her own questioning hum and Eddie turns his face to kiss her.

"We need a plan."

#i never write threesomes so the rest of this is going to be Interesting #steddie fic #steve x eddie x gareth #eventually #steve harrington #eddie munson #female steve harrington #joey writes #ficlet

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nekoashiii · 2 years

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(Hello I hope you are well)

So I want to be an author one day and like to write my main genre is fantasy and i made like my own world i made a map and everything

So how would the people of teyvat react to their god being an author?

Like imagine somehow they got a copy of your book would they know it's just fiction?

would they be jealous and think the other world exists? Would that thinking change if there would be a map of the world in the book like some fantasy books have?

would they make several copies of it and sell it as something holy or worship it?

Hi anon! I wish you luck on your path!! It will definitely take some time but it's really fun when you get the trick!

And for your question,

They have no clue that this isn't fantasy and not real,

Because like you are god so- you watch over other people aswell, they have no proof or reason that this book isn't real

Just like what I said in my other au's of sagau, they would teach these stuff at school. Kinda like history mixed with religion, yk a far interesting story that them learning about their archon for the 1000th time this week

But when they do find out you write,...nothing changes tbh, even if you scream at everyone that this is fantasy no would would really stop thinking like this is an actual universe (good luck dealing with these stubborn bastards) tho they will somehow get this mixed signals that you create universes by writing stuff

There would be COPIES Of the unfinished book. I do like to imagine that Lisa and albedo were the one to get their hands on these book in the form of "PDF" on your device.

And then they started writing these in empty sheets, handwritten. There would be so many artists across teyvat, performing, drawing and explaining your novel

But God forbids if you wrote something cringy as a joke cause I always do that and delete it later just for fun, I would shed tears if someone performed that

For example yunjin would perform a part of the novel, and let me tell you, there would be A LARGE crowd watching her, entertained!

However if you took a break from genshin to focus on the novel, people would get angry , stressed, and tbh horrified incase you actually left them for good

Not at you, ok maybe a little at you, but their main anger and stress is for other people from other universes having your attention

Didn't you like their offerings? Did they make you bored? It's fine they are making major changes to evey city just for you!!

But other than that yes those books are holy, it's literally describing another universe that you rule over as well,

But what they get furious over is how people from that novel don't even acknowledge your existence and worship you, the nerve of these people!

So yeah they hate the people but love and have respect for the universe if that makes sense

#sagau #genshin impact x reader #genshin sagau #sagau yandere #yandere genshin impact #x reader #yandere cult genshin #yandere sagau #sagau zhongli #sagau lisa #sagau albedo

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slurpi13 · 2 months

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Chapter 1/4. Overall Explicit Rating.

Truthfully, it ought to be sufficient to sustain Aziraphale for years to come—to know that Crowley dreamed of the two of them together, that he remembered their time in Eden fondly as Aziraphale did, and that he even dared to imagine more—what they could be in another life, in another time, in the safety of a dream.

It should have been enough, and yet Aziraphale couldn’t keep himself away.

An angsty, bittersweet fic about Crowley dreaming of what they could have, and Aziraphale daring to visit.

Thank you to my beta & friend @pixiefairy15. 💖

Excerpt under the cut.

Although no stranger to a frivolous indulgence, Aziraphale could never quite master the ability to sleep.

It was not due to a lack of earnest attempts over the millennia. All the correct rituals the angel read about were performed. There had been the alcoholic nightcap, the warm milk nightcap, as well as an actual nightcap situated atop his blond curls. He still had the latter, shoved in the back of his wardrobe with a matching pair of cornflower blue pajamas he’d had tailored for the occasion. Counting sheep he’d found rather dull–though not dull enough to incite drowsiness–but a good book had the opposite effect. Before he knew it, he would greet the sunrise still bright eyed, snug under the sheets, and lost inside his story.

If Aziraphale attempted with no sheep and no book, determined in his efforts, his mind would wander endlessly while sleep remained elusive. With his thoughts dallying in silliness and straying into forbidden territories, he would quickly remember why idle hands and minds were the playthings of the devil. Only once had the angel managed to drift into a lighter state of awareness, his thoughts becoming disjointed, but, too excited by his progress, he promptly woke himself back up.

The sleep itself wasn’t what Aziraphale truly wished to experience. Rather, he’d been intrigued by the act of dreaming, and though sleep could not find the angel, that wasn’t to say he’d been prevented from experiencing his fair share of dreams. At the request of Heaven, Aziraphale had explored the dreams of countless humans in his time on Earth. Only select angels were so proficient in dream walking. As he was so closely involved in the implementation of mankind from the Beginning, Aziraphale was one of those few skilled in the art.

The soothing of troubled hearts was not typically required as part of the task but was an additional kindness the angel performed nonetheless. Often, he combined voluntary work and his own interests by visiting the dreams of those in need of the comfort of a guardian angel. The angels Aziraphale knew that also possessed the gift were often too cold, too high and mighty in their holiness to see the purpose of soothing a silly, fragile human when not directly instructed by Heaven.

This freelance work was not delivering the Heaven-approved messages fraught with grandeur or breathtaking visions of hope and a promise of Kingdom Come. Instead, it was as Aziraphale did now—in his bookshop physically while his celestial body floated into the dream of a nearby woman, her palpable anguish catching the angel’s attention when he passed her on the street during the previous day.

Her dream was cold and weak, a sheet of ice ready to shatter. Aziraphale placed a gentle hand on her shoulder as she wept, hunched over an empty bassinet. His whispered recitation of “Be not afraid,” was quite unnecessary. The woman didn’t flinch; she didn’t look up at all. Aziraphale sat silently with her, a protective and calming presence while she sobbed quietly until dawn broke. Slowly, he dissipated out of her dream as she began to stir in the waking world.

Continue Reading on AO3

#good omens fanfic #aziracrow #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #good omens fic

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tennybird · 3 months

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I have opinions about TotK. This is your spoiler warning if you haven't played/finished it yet. Also all of this is, once again, just my opinion on it and not a decisive fact! I will probably misremember things!

Anyway.

Okay so basically as someone who got it on release and beat it within a week, I'm a little underwhelmed by the game now that I'm looking back over half a year later.

It's not a terrible game! I'll say that first and foremost. But after waiting so long for it, and trying so hard to not hype myself up for it (failing horribly at that), it feels just a bit... same-y. The story is nice, and it's different. The boss fights and abilities you gain during your travels are nice. Everything else, though...

I like the map having stayed similar, with enough changes that I have to relearn some areas. The Depths are really fucking cool, and figuring out on my own that they're a negative of the overworld was incredible! But the sky islands were a little disappointing, I think. When we were told we'd be in the sky a lot, I thought there'd be more large islands like the tutorial one that you could walk around on. More references to Skyward Sword, too. It feels to me that they put more love into the Depths than the sky, in a way.

I like the main story. Figuring out Zelda was the Light Dragon (but not really believing it until the final Tears), and that she'd essentially spent thousands and thousands of years trapped inside herself, was AWESOME. Every cutscene involving her as the Light Dragon hit me hard, and I felt genuine sorrow everytime I saw her floating around the sky.

...That being said, I DO wish we could have a game where you get to actually travel with her. I WANT her to tell me about the minor lore of the world! I want to know about the various flora and fauna, and I want her to talk about Hyrule's history! Zelda is part of the royal family, and I'd imagine that part of her studies pre-BotW she'd have to learn about the history of her family (especially because of the importance of the Goddess' blood...). With how pre-BotW went between her and her powers, and her and her father, I'd imagine she'd make it a point to learn more about their history that ISN'T just the prophecy.

I, personally, did not like most of the temple boss fights. I can't really explain much of why- except for Queen Gibdo. I HATED Queen Gibdo because of all the smaller Gibdo chasing you, trying to chase down Riju for her power... It was a lot of things stacked on each other, and simply not my thing. Colgera was an absolute favorite however! The boss theme is AWESOME, the mechanics of being in the air and having to watch for projectiles, as well as crashing through the ice sheets to take it down? VERY, VERY FUN. Climbing through the sky just to get to the temple itself was one of my favorite experiences. Going up and up and up, and finally reaching the top where you break out above the storm clouds and see clear skies...

A thing that bothers me about the temples is that the cutscene at the end, where the ancient Sages gifts their powers to the new ones... I feel like they could've spent a little more time making them different, even if that meant more time in development. I would be okay with that! I think games should be in development longer in order to produce a good, finished product! Anyway.

The fight with Ganondorf was fun for me. I get SUPER immersed in it, so it was a fearful moment when I thought I'd beaten him, only to see his health bar fill again... and then go offscreen. And the DEMON DRAGON FIGHT? Holy SHIT.

I just wish there was more... substance to the game, I guess? It feels weird saying that. There are more things to do, but it's missing something I can't name. Something BotW had, but is now gone. I like TotK, like I said. It's clearly had love put into it, and I'm glad the developers spent more time on getting it as close to the perfect image they wanted as they could. Maybe it's just cause I've spent more time with BotW (over 300 hours), but I think I'm a little biased towards it. Maybe I'm just getting older and grumpier about vidya games, too. Who knows!

If you read all this, cool! I will reiterate that this is simply my view on it! If your view is different, good!! I'm happy to know there are people out there who enjoy it more than I did. Or if you hate it more than I do, maybe you have other things you want to point out about it that I missed.

#james speaks #long post #loz #totk #the legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #i love reading people's opinions so please tell them to me if you want somewhere to ramble!!#zelda #totk spoilers #tears of the kingdom spoilers

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esthermitchell-author · 7 months

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"A Gift of Words" (Fan Fiction Based on Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett)

Imperial City of Strassburg -- 1440 AD

"Oh, this simply will not do!" The familiar voice, tight with annoyance, floated out of the open doorway of the half-timbered, two-storied building. Crowley's attention flicked that way, then across the square to the recently completed cathedral. He shuddered but breathed a sigh of relief he at least wouldn't have to set foot on any consecrated ground. The printer's shop might be in the shadow of the cathedral, but it wasn't actually on holy ground, thank Satan.

He could only imagine how that would go down, downstairs. A demon charging onto consecrated ground just because he thought an angel might be in distress.

That'll definitely go over like a lead balloon.

Turning toward the open doorway, he strolled over and propped himself against the frame, peering into a dimmer lighting inside. A grin snaked over his face at the sight of a well-dressed -- in shades of white and ecru -- figure frowning over a sheet of parchment spread out on the table before him.

"Trouble, angel?" Crowley drawled the words, not bothering to move from his spot.

Aziraphale wheeled around toward him, surprise in his cerulean eyes -- and was that just a bit of welcome, or was Crowley imagining things? -- before he huffed out, "I didn't know you were in Strassburg. And if you must know, yes. I requested printings of several illuminated texts for my collection, but... Well, just look at these!"

Crowley grimaced. The only thing he liked less than consecrated ground was trying to read all the fancy-lettered writing poets and such created in the last hundred years. He really didn't care for the fourteenth century. He'd thought getting out of it would improve calligraphy, at least. So far, it hadn't.

Still, aware his angel was waiting expectantly for him to look at whatever was wrong with his wood-cut printed books, Crowley rolled his eyes behind dark glasses and pushed indolently from the door frame with a put-upon sigh that was only half annoyance and sauntered across the space between them. Glancing down at the parchment Aziraphale held, Crowley winced at the streaky mess of illegible letters. No wonder his fastidious angel was so aggrieved.

"Can't you just miracle it clear?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Aziraphale muttered. "That would hardly be craftsmanship, would it?"

Crowley shrugged. "But it'd be legible. Take your pick."

The angel made a small, distressed sound. "That's the point, Crowley. It shouldn't have to be a choice. How are people supposed to have access to knowledge, to better themselves, if there's not a reliable, inexpensive option for creating books?"

"Got me there," Crowley muttered. "Don't read. Don't want to, either."

"Yes. Well, you can, though. It shouldn't stop people who want to learn, and want to read from being able to, now should it?"

"S'pose not."

Aziraphale's gaze flicked over him. "What are you doing in Strassburg, anyway? I thought you were in Avignon. Trying to stir up unrest in the Church, I believe you said."

Crowley shrugged. "They took care of that themselves, with a nudge or two. I'm supposed to be headed for Tiffauges. Something about a summons. Figure someone else can deal with it. I'll just take myself off to Bavaria for a bit."

Aziraphale tsk-ed and went back to scowling at his parchment. "I'd lecture you on duty, but I know you won't listen, and I'm too busy to deal with you causing trouble, anyway."

"There's that." Crowley tilted his head to one side, studying his angel. He didn't like that look. It was all well and good when Aziraphale was scowling at him with that put-upon little frown that said he'd stirred up just the right amount of trouble. It was quite another thing to see that almost pained scowl on the angel's face.

Aziraphale loved books -- ever since Alexandria, he couldn't seem to get enough of the written word. Crowley figured by now the angel could probably open his own library, yet he still sought out every scholar, writer, and poet he could find for more.

Crowley's gaze softened as he watched his angel fuss with wood blocks carved with letters, and murmured, "Is there something I can help you with, angel?"

Aziraphale sighed and shook his head. "Not unless you know a better way to get legible letters on a page, no." He glanced toward Crowley, and the shine of gratitude in his blue eyes nearly blinded the demon. "But thank you, dear boy, for putting up with my less than hospitable mood."

Crowley cleared his throat uneasily, not sure what to think of the tightness building behind his breastbone. "Right. Well, I'll just see myself out. Will you be here in Strassburg long?"

"I'm due in London in September for a blessing. It'll probably take me until then to get a decent printing of Messire Chaucer's final Tale for my collection."

Leaving Aziraphale to his mutterings over the printer's blocks and inkpots, Crowley went in search of someplace to find a halfway decent wine. People could say what they wanted about the French, but they at least made passable wine. Still, as he headed for the inns and vintners, Crowley couldn't shake the thought rattling around in his brain, or the memory of his angel's distressed frown. Perhaps he could find a solution. Something to put a smile back on Aziraphale's face.

His gaze lit on a goldsmith's shop, and he wondered. If the letters were printed using metal, rather than wood, would they be more legible? And perhaps there was a way to replace that sludge they called ink, these days, with something that made a thinner coat on the blocks, so it wouldn't run and smudge... Glancing toward a nearby vintner's shop, he remembered watching the wine presses work, when he'd been curious enough to look in on how it was made now, and a grin spread slowly across his face.

Striding toward the goldsmith's shop, emblazoned with the signage Gutenberg's Golds and Fine Metals, he swung open the door and enquired of the man bent over a workbench, crafting some trinket that no doubt would never matter, "Messire Gutenberg? How would you like to change the world?"

******

Whickber Street, Soho, London – 1800

It was a blustery, freezing New Year's day, but that wasn't about to stop Aziraphale from taking a moment to look up on the exterior signage on his newly-acquired building, declaring it the home of A.Z. Fell and Co., Purveyor of Fine Books to the Gentry.

Not that he planned to do much selling of the current contents of his new shop. Rather, it was a receptacle for his vast collection of rare scrolls and tomes, collected over the centuries. He hadn't any plans of parting with them, if he could prevent it – and he had a jolly good plan on how to prevent it, too.

"What the Heaven are you doing out here in the bloody cold, angel? That your new shop, then?"

He turned in surprised delight at the sound of Crowley's voice. He hadn't seen the demon since Paris, seven years ago. Crowley stood a few steps away, looking as dapper as always, despite his taste in depressingly somber colors. Beneath his arm was tucked some kind of package, meaning either Crowley was out shopping, or some form of demonic trouble was shortly to follow.

He sincerely hoped it was the former. He wasn't really in the mood for any thwarting, today. As Crowley said, it was quite chilly out.

"Crowley! Good to see you. Yes, this is the place. Finally finished moving all my books in, yesterday." He eyed the package hopefully. "Out shopping?"

"Huh?" Crowley looked perplexed. Aziraphale sighed and gestured to the package the demon held tucked against his body.

"It appears you've purchased something."

Crowley glanced down, then held the paper-wrapped packet out toward Aziraphale. "Nah. This is for you."

Wariness licked through Aziraphale. "What are you up to?"

A disgruntled scowl twisted Crowley's face. "Nothing, for Satan's sake. Take it, angel."

He wanted to argue, but he was curious about the package's contents, too. Curiosity won out. He took the package from Crowley, instantly surprised by the heft of the packet. It felt like…

Surprise winged through him, and he tore away the paper. A soft exclamation murmured from him as he stared down at the two beautiful old leather-bound tomes in his hands. They had to each have been well over a hundred years old, but they looked as if they'd never been opened.

He looked up at Crowley. "How did you find them?"

Crowley shrugged and stamped his feet. "Can we go inside?"

"Oh! Of course." Aziraphale led the way to the front door, unlocking it before he turned to Crowley. "You're always welcome here, by the way. No need to ask."

Crowley inclined his head in a grateful bow, and Aziraphale chose to ignore the smirk tilting at the demon's lips as he sauntered past, into the shop. Cradling the books Crowley gave him carefully in one arm, he followed the demon in and closed the door behind himself. Inside, he laid the books carefully aside, then doffed his tophat and dusted the fine layer of snow from it in the entryway, so it wouldn't dampen any of the books as it melted. He removed his outer coat and scarf as well, laying them all over the low banister to dry, before turning to pick up the books again. He glanced at the leatherbound covers, perplexed to find no writing on either one. Opening the first book, he glanced over the first page -- which appeared to simply go straight into the tale it contained, without aid of a title page at all -- and stopped in his tracks as he realized what he held.

"Crowley."

"Hmm?" The demon responded, sounding distracted, before muttering, "Don't tell me you don't have any alcohol in this place. It's too bloody cold to not have alcohol."

"In the back room. Cabinet along the wall," Aziraphale answered him distractedly. "Crowley, where did you get these books?"

"Uhh..." Crowley's voice faded off, followed by a creaking door, then rummaging and clinking, before Crowley returned from the backroom, carrying a bottle of wine, a triumphant grin on his face. "Found something."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Huh?" Crowley glanced his way, then frowned. "Oh, some little shop in France. Can't quite remember. Why the deuce are all the walls in here yellow, angel?"

Aziraphale dropped his gaze back to the books he held, and pretended he hadn't heard the question. He was absolutely never going to admit to Crowley he'd been seized by some utterly unholy urge, when it came time to paint the interior, and he'd requested of the painters to find a way to cover the walls in goldenrod yellow. It hadn't been a cheap thing, but he found it soothing. He felt safer than he knew he should, surrounded by the same hue as the eyes now watching him.

Instead of addressing Crowley's question, however, he focused on the demon's gift. "These must be first printings, and early ones at that. They must have cost a fortune! Please, allow me to repay you."

"Nah." Crowley brushed him off, already using a knife to pry the cork from the wine bottle. "Got 'em for next to nothing."

Aziraphale narrowed his gaze briefly on Crowley. Something about the tone of the demon's voice told him there was more to the story than what he was telling, and he bet the books cost a lot more than Crowley claimed. Still, he didn't doubt Crowley would refuse any attempt to reimburse him.

He glanced around himself, and a small smile pulled at his lips. He knew Crowley kept rooms -- owned by Hell, he'd once confided during a long night of drinking -- but that he didn't feel safe in that space. So he would make this space safe for Crowley. That was how he would repay the demon. Crowley gave him a gift, so he would repay the kindness with his own gift -- sanctuary.

******

A.Z. Fell and Co Bookshop, Soho, London -- 1941

While he waited for Aziraphale to return from putting up his cloak and other magician's trappings, Crowley danced his fingertips along the spines of several special editions -- first printings of some of the oldest printed bibles in the world -- and swallowed back a sardonic grin. Your average priest thought waving a bible around would strike fear in the heart of a demon.

Little did most humans know, most lower-level demons didn't even have hearts -- not in anything but the strictest physical sense. Bibles only intimidated the ones who couldn't read and thought there was something in there they didn't already know.

Crowley knew the Bible front to back, and back to front (in 1918, just after the Great War, he'd decided on one drunken night, bored out of his mind in some fleabag motel in Kansas, to read the entire thing backward, just for something to pass the time). He found the whole thing funny, instead of intimidating. Maybe a little annoying, even, that despite his hand in so much of it, no one ever once thought to refer to him by name.

His fingers stopped on one old, leather-bound book, right between Aziraphale's copy of the Gutenberg Bible and the Buggre Alle This Bible, and a blend of surprise and recognition tugged at Crowley.

It wasn't a large tome, being less than half the size of the bibles around it, and definitely not of the ecclesiastical nature of the other books, either.

Crowley tapped one finger lightly against the old, but immaculate, leather-bound but unmarked spine for a long moment, until he heard Aziraphale return, the unmistakable clinking of wine bottle and glasses preceding him. Then, Crowley plucked the thin, leather-bound book from among the others, and turned, leaning his shoulders up against the bookshelves as he turned it over a few times in his hands.

"I'm surprised you kept it."

"Hmm?" Aziraphale glanced his way, before the angel's attention dropped to the book in Crowley's hands, and he smiled. "Why wouldn't I? It's a lovely book -- especially in its original Italian."

Crowley uttered a short laugh, shaking his head. Only his angel would think The Divine Comedy was a 'lovely book.' "Angel, it's complete rubbish, written by an idiot."

Aziraphale lifted one eyebrow. "You're the one who gave it to me. Did I ever thank you for those first edition printings?"

Crowley shrugged uncomfortably, turning to replace the book on the shelf. He didn't want to think about his motives in having Johannes Gutenberg print the fourteenth century Italian poetic narrative, along with a copy of the entirety of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. At the time, he'd passed it off as a "test run" for their newly crafted printing press. He'd let Gutenberg take all the credit for the machine, and even claim that the Bible was its first print. Didn't matter to him. He got what he wanted out of it.

Still, he'd kept the books he had printed safely tucked away until Aziraphale finally gathered all his books in one place and opened the bookshop in 1800. Not that he ever admitted where they came from. And he wasn't about to, now, either. No matter what he realized tonight, being that vulnerable wouldn't help him out any.

"Stumbled across them," he muttered, moving to the table to sit as Aziraphale poured them both wine. "Thought you might like 'em, is all."

His angel flashed a small, bashful smile his way that nearly had Crowley groaning. Before he did something stupid and cost himself his best friend, Crowley lifted the glass Aziraphale slid his way and took a fortifying gulp of wine.

How he was going to keep his feelings under wraps for the rest of however long they might have before Armageddon, he hadn't a bloody clue. He would, though. He wouldn't do anything that might risk losing time with his angel, again. Even if that meant keeping how far he'd been willing to go just to see Aziraphale smile to himself for the rest of time.

*****

A.Z. Fell and Co Bookshop, Soho, London – 1 Week After Thwarting the Second Coming

Aziraphale hummed to himself and settled more deeply into the comfortable confines of the plush settee, then tsk-ed under his breath when his attempt to turn the page of the book he was reading was impeded by the interlacing of long, nimble fingers with his own. Affection lacing his voice, he chided, “You promised to rest. Not that I’m complaining, but I think you’d be more comfortable doing so upstairs, in a proper bed.”

“I am resting,” Crowley mumbled, his eyes closed where he lay draped along the rest of the settee, his feet hanging over the opposite armrest and his head laying on Aziraphale’s thigh. His demon currently had their fingers laced together, Aziraphale’s hand held captive against his chest and the tartan blanket Crowley had wrapped himself snugly in when he first flopped down beside Aziraphale like a landed trout. “And I’m comf’ble right here, angel.”

With a quiet laugh, Aziraphale set aside his book -- that delightful first printing of The Canterbury Tales Crowley had gifted him when he first opened the shop. It was clear he wouldn’t be getting any reading done, right now, and he was all right with that. Book safely on the side table, he ran his free hand through the soft strands of Crowley’s red hair, and mused, “You know, it seems silly, you staying all alone in that mausoleum of a flat over in Mayfair...”

Crowley’s eyes blinked open, and Aziraphale froze for a moment, unsure if they were really ready to have this conversation. After all, Anthony was still healing. It hardly seemed fair to...

“You better not have stopped because you’re getting ready to walk that offer back, angel.” The warning in Crowley’s voice couldn’t be clearer. Aziraphale smiled to himself. Clearly, he was worrying for nothing.

“Of course not, love.” He patted Crowley's chest with his semi-captive hand there. "I just don't wish to put you on the spot, as they say. You're still healing."

"Unbelievable," Crowley muttered, swinging his feet off the armrest and bringing them down to the floor as he levered himself upright with a wince. Aziraphale opened his mouth to chide his demon for moving so quickly when he was obviously still injured from their battle in Heaven, but stopped when he saw Crowley's expression change, the demon's beautiful yellow eyes widen as his gaze fixed past Aziraphale, to the stand beside the settee, and the softest, most vulnerable look he'd ever seen on Crowley's face settled there.

"You actually read them," Crowley murmured, then, his voice full of absolute wonder.

Aziraphale's brow furrowed. He was having trouble following the twists of this conversation. Was Crowley more injured than he thought?

No, not possible. He'd examined the wound himself. Besides, Crowley seemed to get stronger by the hour since he woke up, which was a sign his body was healing itself, now that the holy water was no longer eating its way through him, poisoning him. "Read what, my love? Naturally I read. You know that."

Crowley leaned across him, their bodies brushing for just the briefest instant as the demon snatched up the book on the side table. Aziraphale bit back his protest of disappointment when Crowley straightened again, the leatherbound tome in hand, waggling it in front of Aziraphale's face.

"I meant this book, angel."

"Oh." Aziraphale smiled. "You thought I didn't read them because you gave it to me? Crowley, you're being silly. That's exactly the reason I do read them. I like to think of you seeing them and thinking enough of me to choose them as gifts."

Crowley froze for a moment, his eyes filling with a sunny softness Aziraphale was certain he'd never seen before, but he was equally certain he wanted to spend the rest of eternity seeing. Happiness looked good on Crowley.

"I didn't buy them."

Crowley's blurted confession startled Aziraphale, and he blinked, before the words registered. He sighed. "I see. Well, I forgive you for taking them. It's too late to return them, now, but..."

Crowley was staring at him again, like he was the most wonderful, amusing being the demon had ever seen. Then, without warning, Crowley dropped his head to Aziraphale's shoulder, laughing openly.

"I... I didn't... steal them," he chortled breathlessly, still laughing as he nuzzled in closer, his breath tickling the side of Aziraphale's neck, now.

Aziraphale's brow furrowed. "You said you didn't buy them. But you didn't steal them? Anthony..."

"I had Gutenberg print them for me." Crowley was murmuring now, his voice still laced with humor, but something infinitely more dangerous simmering there, too.

Gutenberg?

"You were in Strassburg when..." He gasped, pulling away enough to see Crowley's heavy-lidded eyes and the unholy light gleaming there. "Did you have something to do with his invention?"

Crowley grinned wickedly. "I gave him the plans, but let him keep the credit."

"Why?"

There was a light thumping noise -- like a book connecting with the floor -- and Crowley was somehow closer, now, his long fingers trailing up Aziraphale's arm. The angel's heart thundered in his chest, even as a hissing purr filled his ears. "Why do you think?"

He couldn't. Think, that is. He offered Crowley a wavering smile and a small shrug.

Crowley sighed, leaning in to touch his forehead to Aziraphale's, so their gazes met -- goldenrod yellow to his own blue. Then, in a whisper Aziraphale was certain he wouldn't have been able to hear if they hadn't been so close together, his demon breathed, "For you, angel."

Aziraphale's heart took flight at those words. Reaching out, he delved his hands into Crowley's hair and dragged Crowley in for a kiss, pouring all of the love he kept so carefully contained into this press of lips and tangle of tongues. If he ever needed proof his beautiful, wonderful demon did his greatest works in the name of love -- and he hadn't needed any such proof -- he had it, now.

Crowley had given the entire world a gift of words, just because he loved.

THE END

#good omens #good omens fandom #aziracrow #azicrow #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #ineffable spouses #crowley #fanfic #go fanfic

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kabutoraiger · 3 months

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fun find at the used bookstore the other day since their horror section is usually pretty sparse. had to stop myself from saying Holy Fuck out loud upon picking it up and seeing that guy. retro horror book covers you will always be famous to me

as for the actual stories inside,

son of celluloid - really cool concept of a monster in a movie theater that can like send your ass to the Movie Dimension and shapeshift itself into old film stars to lure you in with a beloved face and gets stronger the more it is "perceived"

however i really did not understand part of the lore of this creature which was that it partially grew out of cancer cells...?? what does that have to do with the rest of this... and unfortunately this story gets bogged down with the central POV character who is a fat woman, which is obviously fine, but like half of her narration is just thinking about how she hates being soo fat and how men aren't into her which is just. :/

also it made me question if clive has ever actually seen dumbo. dumbo's ears were his notable feature, my guy. that's kind of the whole thrust of the film.

rawhead rex - this is the only one i'd heard of in advance and it's certainly... memorable.

again the idea here is kino with this beast from ancient times being unleashed on this blase little british town and kind of plunging them back into a more primal state of being. the descriptions of rawhead and especially of him eating the children is like. viscerally freaky and horrible.

but the decision to write some scenes from the POV of rawhead himself is... i dunno. like i do think the story would feel a bit unfinished without his perspective so it's more How they're written, i guess, in this very normal voice that just makes him come across as a simple animal crossed with a petulant cruel teenager or something, and thus kind of ruining his scariness. maybe that was part of the intention and i just didn't fully get it? to me it would've been better for his POV to read as very stylized & different from the humans somehow.

and god i wish there didn't have to be so much piss involved. the demonic watersports scene got me staring off into the distance with a tired resignation

confessions of a pornographer's shroud - relatively simple ghostly revenge story. due to being told in big part from the POV of the ghost i can't call this one particularly scary, but the base idea of taking the silly halloweencore ghost wearing sheet and turning that into an actual serious haunting is fun.

scapegoats - a ship gets beached on a creepy little island they hadn't even noticed on the map which turns out to be a burial ground for tons of unidentified bodies who washed up there during the world wars.

the ending bit of this one was pretty effective but i can't get over my disappointment that this island wasn't more like lovecraftian in origin, which felt plausible based on initial descriptions of it. half alive corpses are scary sure but i wanted At The Shitty English Island of Madness instead.

also there's one part that felt straight out of one of junji ito's weirder oneshots which made me laugh out loud and im not sure the humor was intended.

human remains - sex worker goes home with a guy and finds some kind of sentient human sized statue in his bathtub which then proceeds to start following him around and taking on his identity & exact appearance.

probably my favorite in this book which feels odd to say since it's the least horror out of them. the MC's reaction to this creature eventually becomes almost friendly or loving, and the creature is polite and well spoken and though it kills people it generally only does so to live. very interesting. a story that it's difficult to imagine a straight author writing. could probably read some layers of metaphor into it if you were inclined

#oryx's book review corner

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blonde-and-cat-suc · 3 months

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I picked up that infamous "save the cat" scriptwriting book that so many writers keep recommending.

It's the biggest pile of horseshite I've ever read. The author keeps contradicting his own rules, has a strange hatred of the Christopher Nolan film "Memento", keeps trying to redefine specific writing terms to mean something else, admits he only wrote the book to make money and be the one to set "the rules" for script writing, spends most of the book bragging about how many scripts he sold and how many famous friends he has, and classified Schindler's List as a genre he calls "dude who has a problem".

But most importantly, he said that every script needs to have an establishing moment that's supposed to make us like the protagonist and want them to succeed. A moment where the character does something good, like saving a cat, to get us invested in their journey.

So imagine my surprise when we were given an episode called "Save the Cat" in season 5, where all built up themes and story are thrown out the window.

Holy. Shit.

So, I had to go read this for myself after receiving this ask, so I thank you so much for giving this to me. My experience with it was, ah, interesting to say the least. I’ve heard of and used Save the Cat (beat sheet) as a story structure concept in the past (I think most writers are going to be forced to come into contact with STC, right?) But the book it self was for screenwriting and not novel writing, so it never struck me as something particularly noteworthy... Until now.

BOY HOWDY is this a book. It didn’t, um, impact me in a direct way but rather it brought me into this wormhole of other concepts typically used in screenwriting that I’ve heard of but apparently only scratched the surface of. As I’m in this wormhole, they’re voices in the screenwriting community that criticize STC as well—not that I was interested at the time of finding those discussions, having already received this ask and having these points already in my mind. Some other voice were giving completely different advice, and I started to absorb everything with this newfound…. Curiosity…

The only thing that I think is appropriate to leave this post with now is this cool, summarized quote I found somewhere in the middle of the week I spent reading STC + devouring screenwriting research, and you can take it as you will:

“There is a difference between an artist and a creator”.

. . .

But back to SPOP…

So? Yes? “Save the Cat” (our SPOP episode)? Is a joke? It’s a funny little prod at the audience that expects you to know the real world context of the title, what the title is popular for, and what particular niche it’s popular in. Very clever, very cute.

But honestly. Anon. Dude. This is actually the funniest, highest quality shit I’ve ever had the pleasure of having in my inbox. It got me to read a book I never had the slightest intention of picking up, and learn so many little facts about screenwriting. Kudos to you, please come back whenever you want. You will always have my respect and gratitude.

#this is the only ask ever that has ACTUALLY taken a week to come up with an answer for #STC is … an interesting book and this has been … a journey for sure #my favorite anon in a long time #dude seriously. come back whenever you want to hang out and talk about writing advice books. there is still so much to talk about #but i didn't want to get too off top #thanks for the ask / thanks for discussing with the group

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saturnspecials · 2 years

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Flower Boy Ch. 2

Hi! It’s here! Chapter 2! I’m sorry it’s a bit short and awkward- writers block and short attention span and all that! I hope you like it and be patient with me as i figure out how to write dialogue decently haha :) enjoy!

In the days before travelling to Cairnholm, I had called ahead to ask if there was anywhere I could stay for a few nights upon my immediate arrival. There was one small room you could pay for, inside a tavern called the Priest Hole. Looking at the worn down building now, it’s hard to imagine any man who called himself holy residing here. The din of the downstairs tavern leaks through the damp wood and cracked windows, an unsavoury type of noise. Staring at the building fills me with a deep longing to return to Montreal, to leave the stories I was told as a young child, and simply disappear into the everyday life there.

“Merde!” I spit the cuss at the dingy looking dorway, before heaving my bags back into my hands and trudging inside. The inside is not much better than the outside, with the added bonus of a permeating smell of fish and booze. Striding my way up to the barkeep, I do my best to keep from brushing against any of the men who crowd the dimly lit room.

“Bonjour, hello.” I called out to the barkeep. He gave me a once over, barely seeming to keep in a scoff.

“What do you want, boy?”

“I called a few days ago, asking about a room for a few nights. I have the money for you here if it is still available?”

The man snatches the bills from my hand, thumbing through them while keeping a suspicious eye on me.

Once finished, he grunts out a sound of acknowledgement and starts his way up the stairs. I follow. The upstairs of the building is in better shape than the downstairs, but it hasn’t managed to escape the sickening smell of liquor. After a brief struggle to knock the poorly fitting door out of its frame, the man hands me a key.

“My name is Kev. This is your only key, don’t lose it. Downstairs is the only place on the island you can find food. Don’t cause a mess.” With that he pressed the small key into my hand and lumbered back down the steps.

I glance after him before entering the dingy room. I go to shut the door behind me, just to find it jammed. I sigh and push a bit harder, but it remains stuck fast. I push my shoulder into the door just above the knob and it finally shutters closed. I stay leaning against the wood for a moment before huffing out a sigh. It’s barely past noon and my body is already begging me to collapse onto the grungy white sheets of the bed and sleep. I sweep my hand through my hair and begin to settle in.

Roughly an hour later, I find myself standing uncomfortably in front of the bar. I hold my satchel, carrying my journal and a few other things. I glance briefly at the path marked in red on a map of the island Mémé had tucked inside her journal before setting off away from the town. I know from the map and what Mémé had written that my destination was closer than the actual children’s home. The building would simply appear destroyed and hollow if I approach it here in the present.

The walk is simple and soon enough, I reach the entrance to the Cairn and the loop. I peer into the damp entry before placing my foot gingerly on the slick rock, heart speeding up with the action.

Breathe.

I suck in a breath before launching my full body inside the cave. I stand stock still as time itself warps around me, before stumbling backwards quickly. I peer back at the cave, uneasy about how the walls seem to reach out to swallow me.

I don’t spare a second glare at the Cairn, and instead turn and hurry off towards the road. I find my heart calming as I get further from the cave, and eventually push the thought of it to the back of my mind. As the roof of the home comes into sight over the trees, I can’t help the giddy smile that slips onto my face.

I’m here. Finally here.

I basically trip up the steps to the door in my excitement, only to find myself face to face with a woman.

“Y/N L/N, I presume?”

#mphfpc #mphfpc x reader #enoch o'connor x male reader #enoch o'connor x reader #enoch o'connor #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #male reader #x reader

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robinlmaoo · 1 year

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Oooo I love how you wrote miner!!!! If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love to hear more headcanons for them, and maybe how they interact with the other three Aurora spirits?

ahhhhh! thank you so much anon, it really warms my heart to see that people are actually liking my writing 😭 ❤️💕

as for the headcanons, okay… sit down, my friend, youve come to the right person for this (i hold the aurora spirits damn close to my heart holy sheet)

personality!

I do imagine that, after they were helped by the jellyfish in the cavern, they became a person who was against excessive light creature usage (just like how there are people in the world who are against excessive use of earth’s resources)

All is soft inside is a song about being an emotional person. as such i think of the miner as a strong empath or a very emotional person, mindful and attuned to the feelings of others as well as having strong emotions themselves. theyre very sensitive, as you can see in the story, they nearly cried over just the lack of response from the workers in the cave.

and if you ever manage to break past that icy, stony front they put up (which is, i assume, very hard), and get to what touches them most… yeah, that’s when they’ll really fall apart.

they’ll try and fail miserably to keep themselves together, their composure breaking into a million little pieces as all that held back emotion spills out and overwhelms the poor guy like a tsunami wave.

theyre the type of person to instinctively brush off any offer for help (from their experience as a leader), seeming aloof and sometimes awkward when you do.

and holds great ambitions and dreams for themselves and their loved ones but is sad theyre not able to fulfill them.

as a fun little headcanon, i do imagine marching adventurer as their distant relative/sibling in some sorts because their hairstyle looks kinda similar to each other and apparently if two spirits have the same hairstyle theyre related! (rhythm and performance ahem)

Past!

They were a strong, confident young person when they entered the light mining industry, but soon was hit with waves and more waves of stress. light mining was dangerous, as you can clearly see with the tearful light miner’s memory and the cave collapse with miner’s dear friend. as such, people’s friends and family who worked in the light mining industry often- well, died, and ofc everyone was sad. the mindful miner, on top of the stress of their job as a leader (they tried to shoulder each and every matter that came their way, trying their best and hardly stopping to take a rest), they felt the sadness everyone felt and as a result, they spiraled deeper and deeper into an abyss of distress, at not being able to stop these losses and worker deaths. so yeah, ig you could say their job was extremely stressful.

present!

so, they now live peacefully in the AURORA coliseum, with the three other AURORA spirits. whats next?

i do imagine the aurora spirits as just a gang of four festival performers living here in the coliseum, together and with the aurora guide ofc. they’re kinda like a ‘squad’ to me, all bouncing off each other and interacting with each other to form their own unique dyamic. heres the miner’s side of the situation:

they enjoy interacting with skykids at the photo booth section, but arent as popular as the other three spirits of aurora

they don’t seem like much, just a quiet bystander, but because they’re so attuned to the emotions of others they’re kinda like the glue that keeps the four of em together.

like, they understand. so they know how to act to resolve conflicts between the three spirits!

as a result, though, when conflicts happen they tend to take it upon themselves to resolve it and get abnormally distressed when it escalates and they cant. in this case, aurora (in her powered-down, more human like form) will often step in to help.

most of the time, when shenanigans happen theyre just a confused bystander who tried to contribute to the conversation but ends up failing 60% of the time

i do imagine that theyre closer to the running wayfarer, since there was a period of time where them and the running wayfarer were the only two AURORA spirits in the coliseum.

and because of the wayfarer’s accomodating, open-minded nature, the miner quickly found themselves opening up to the wayfarer about their experiences, plus empathising with them when they shared their experience about losing a loved one too. so yeah! running wayfarer and mindful miner are close friendos :D

theyre kinda like that one therapist friend you find understands you scarily well, and you often find yourself venting to like 85% of the time

it took a while for the miner to get to know the seed of hope, since i do headcanon the seed of hope to be a little cold, and they also hate showing the emotional side of them and they HATE other people seeing them cry.

since they were the last aurora spirit to arrive and also seemed a little intimidating, the other aurora spirits werent THAT eager to get to know the seed. but the miner was bothered about this, if they’d been called here, that means they too, have to have experienced some form of great loss or struggle, right? and keeping it all inside isnt very good for you, the miner knew all too well. (i have a whole other fanfic about the seed, but its much shorter than this one, you can go check it out! just scroll to the deep depths of my wall and you should find it)

so the miner persisted in trying to help and understand them, taking it step by step and action by action. and eventually… they did open up to them! yay :D

the relationship between the miner and the warrior of love is kinds just… imagine cheerful sibling and awkward older brother relationship. i dont really know what to say here, HAHA-

anyway, thats all! oh god this was so long, i have tons more but its about the other AURORA spirits so i shall cease and desist and resist and… something-sist. thank you for coming to my ted talk, and have a nice day anon, and thanks again for asking!!

#mindful miner #season of aurora #sky cotl #headcanon #sky children of the light #holy sheet this was LOOOONG. sorry #skyblr

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halfvalid · 7 months

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I think... I think I'm down bad for zoro... I had a big math test last Friday and I still had like more than an hour until the time is up but like I already finished my test right and and idk what got into me but I decided to write Zoro headcannons onto the question sheet and dumbass me forgot to erase it 😭😭😭😭😭😭 NOW I THINK THE TEACHER KNOWS THAT IM A SIMP FOR ZORO imagine she's seeing all the answers along with the question sheets and just sees a long ass Zoro headcannon on the back of the question sheet holy shit ive never been so scared 😭😭

anon. anon. you THINK you’re down bad for zoro? oh honey do i have news to break to you…

anyway anon i’m gonna need those zoro headcanons in my inbox right now. praying for u abt the test btw both for your reputation and also your test score.

also god this is such a big fat fucking mood. i am also so down horrendous for zoro it’s actually crazy (i have written about 30,000 words of zoro fanfiction so actually you guys KNOW. you guys reap the benefits of my mental instability. how does it feel).

cackled mid work shift to this so thank you for the story it made my day

oh while we’re exposing ourselves here’s a confession: i have three fully written zoro fics in my drafts, i’ve just been posting them spaced out so you guys don’t think i’m insane

#zou anon #kiki answers!

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meg-megbanom-ezt · 1 year

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The Four Horsemen of my Spotify Wrapped

As a last minute effort, I present my Spotify wrapped as my final post of this year, with a bit of illustration. The background of the image is, of course, not mine but Jason Galea's. Originally I wanted to recreate it myself but a) I couldn't make it half, no, quarter as good b) I can't be bothered by doing anything difficult for 2022. I've had enough.

The reason I don't post the original Spotify images like anybody else is... because my poor phone is so old and messed up that I was happy to be able to tap through at. all. I was like, "is there any cheat code for Level 2?", the app crashed OR skipped too much forward OR backward. So this is also a goodbye to Spotify on the phone because after I wrote(!) down(!!!) the stats, I deleted the app. Spoiler: it also crashed all the other times. I've bought an SD card and I'll listen to mp3s from now on. Soooo ~retro~!

To be fair, I used the Spotify browser edition, as well; more than the phone app version, I'd guess. Maybe I keep using that, but I prefer YouTube for listening for music (I know, I know), although it's not really the bee's knees either. Just still the better one IMO.

So if anybody persisted despite my rants or against the odds how much people usually care for other's music taste... HERE IS THE POINT:

Most common genres (in descending order, but fuck bullet points):

new wave - no surprise rock - broad category, but I can see this Australian indie - see later... classic Hungarian rock - hmm... I think this is a broad category as well early US punk - I can see this, too

How much I've listened to Spotify?

3493 minutes, which is ~58 hours - not even 2,5 days. I don't think it's too much. Still, I've listened to more music than 45% of Hungarian users! I'm so curious how would the distribution look like. And what about podcasts? I guess it's also a keyword here. (Podcasts are not my cup of tea, but I'd still love to see statistics. OK, I just like stats, OK?)

Top 5 songs:

Holiday in Cambodia - imagine this... this made it to the top with *drum roll* four repeats on a gray January day! Wow, just wow. I can't complain, tho - it's a great song. It just looks like I don't do that horrible number of loops on Spotify (unlike on YT). Also, now you understand the top left corner (even though, iirc, Jello gnawing the chord is in the California Über Alles video? anyway...). Pop Song 89 - Oh, I can explain this, it's a recent thing. I opened Spotify, I saw this song among top of the favourites, "oh, I like this", I played the song - and closed the app / tab. Hence, the top right corner (but poor Michael Stipe, I should've drawn him better in retrospect). Lonely Steel Sheet Flyer - holy shit, I didn't even remembered this song title. I guess I was like, "wait it's good!" and replayed a few times without recollecting. [these guys drugged me through their music: a story at 8PM] Swamp Thing - same as above, but it's by The Chameleons. But even worse: unlike with King Gizzard, I don't even really know the band! Put me in the *looks in the notes* pillory. Ez a város - the only reason it's this below because I listen to Európa Kiadó more on other platforms. :) I link this, because it's Hungarian and you'd find songs with the same title but shittier music if it wasn't for me. I biased but I don't care. ...OK, I care a bit. As much as I love this band, the lyrics make the difference here, so non-Hungarian speakers are inherently missing out and might just see it as any other new wave / alternative band. Still, recommended (of course!). Also, at bottom left quarter now you can recognize Jenő Menyhárt, the bandleader music director of the band.

Top bands:

King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard - surprise! Remember the above-mentioned Australian indie as the bronze-winner genre? King Gizzard single-handedly contributed to that. The funny - and maybe touching :3 - thing is that King Gizzard is actually one of my brother's favourite bands. The exception rule of my cynical take is that people might do care about other's taste if they are close friends or relatives. At least I do. So that's why I listened to the ABSOLUTE WHOLE FUCKING DISCOGRAPHY of the King Gizzard!!! And them being a really, I mean REALLY prolific band, it was easy to reach the top here. Their stuff is so diverse and energetic, but eventually... I like some of their albums, some of them I kinda love, even, but I don't think I became a real fan. I wouldn't go to their concert by myself but if someone important invited me OR I magically won a ticket, I'd gladly go. The Beatles - .......really?! - I muttered with a smirk. Honestly, fuck The Beatles. OK, I am just being edgy here. But they only finished on the second place because I clicked on a "basic Beatles for x hours" recommendation playlist and I complied, but wasn't impressed by the end. My point is, it's easy for a band to get a metric fuckton of hours if you binge them for whatever reason and then Spoti draws the wrong conclusion because quantity and preference don't necessarily correlate. (I guess I could've concluded already above but honestly, fuck the Beatles.) Európa Kiadó - I made my point above. One addition: their live stuff is often waaaay better than the studio stuff but those are available elsewhere, so the third place is reasonable. New Order - hmm. A band I kinda like, but don't like enough for the fourth place. Then I remembered that I binged two of their albums so I get it. The Smiths - well I wonder how come someone hasn't noticed that I'm dead these guys have only reached the fifth place? Kinda guilty pleasure, but I cannot not like the Smiths. So this is why we got Morrissey at the bottom right corner, not that he would deserve it, tho. Also I made his glasses with the anime school of obscuring glass because if I'm already embarrassed myself, why not top all of it with weeb shit.

Now peace out, I have to shower and go to the party where possibly better music is played (granted, my brother is also invited there). Happy New Year in advance for all my lovely mutuals and all the others passing by! <3

UPDATE: oh fuck, I forgot one more thing. I played King Gizzard for 728 minutes, which qualified me for the top 3% of listeners! Yeah, that's 12 hours and 8 minutes! If this doesn't impress you, nothing will.

#english post #saját rajz #drawings #music i like #spotify wrapped #possibly shitty takes #jello biafra #dead kennedys #michael stipe #rem #menyhárt jenő #európa kiadó #morrissey #the smiths #king gizzard and the lizard wizard #jason galea

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haloburns · 1 year

Text

I posted 23,071 times in 2022

204 posts created (1%)

22,867 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@who-is-page

@ruffboijuliaburnsides

@tukoism

@dp-marvel94

@roundaboutnow

I tagged 1,885 of my posts in 2022

#danny phantom - 115 posts

#the world is having more fun than me tonight series - 94 posts

#ecto writes - 91 posts

#ecto fics - 88 posts

#my fics - 72 posts

#my au - 35 posts

#ml spoilers - 31 posts

#the batman 2022 - 26 posts

#strike back spoilers - 26 posts

#my writing - 23 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#nor did the fact that i could already read do me any favors bc i was like immediately singled out and elevated to the 1st grade reading cla

My Top Posts in 2022:

You can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to. put your favorite playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs then tag others. No skipping!

thanks for tagging me @roundaboutnow !!

i'm gonna use my invisobang playlist that i can't share the title of yet. it's my fav right now.

1. same direction - hoobastank (honestly hoobastank fucks)

2. getting away with murder - papa roach (a classic)

3. be my escape - relient k (my beloved)

4. make it stop (september's end) - rise against (this song makes me cry)

5. until the day i die - story of the year (a perfect ghost light song, ive had it on all my songs)

6. for you, and your denial - yellowcard (oh this song fucks too. the violin man. the violin.)

7. last night on earth - green day

8. saying sorry - hawthorne heights

9. devil in the mirror - black veil brides (this song is so good for this fic...)

10. give it all - rise against

@redead-red @jadenoryuu @omnicrafts (share those crossover playlists babe!!) @floralflowerpower @bibliophilea and anyone else that wants to join in!

31 notes - Posted June 10, 2022

with every sin, i still wanna be holy

Dan wants to be better. But that means dealing with his past (future?) actions and starting to make amends and acknowledging how he's hurt these people in his life. It's hard than he'd like to admit. Part of the the world is having more fun than me (tonight) series.

Lancer,

I dunno why I’m writing this. It’s stupid. I’m not even gonna send it. You don’t even know who I am! Clockwork did his meddling with time bullshit so you don’t remember me.

No one remembers me

You were my favorite teacher, yknow. You were the only one who actually gave even a little fuck about me. All my other teachers wrote me off as just another dumb lazy kid. No one knew of course.

Oh I guess I should tell you. I’m… Danny Phantom. Sort of. It’s a big mess of things, but Fenton is Phantom. That little punk Weston kid was right. That's why I missed so many assignments and always fell asleep in class. I promise I wasn’t a bad kid, Mr Lancer.

I guess I just needed to tell you who I was. So you would be understanding or some shit. Maybe so I wouldn’t feel like I failed every adult in my life.

Whatever. It’s not like I’m sending this anyway.

Dan

Read more letters on AO3!

40 notes - Posted October 6, 2022

hey look at that! another redraw!

i wanted to work on style and some other things, so i redrew my avatar (again). the first one is literally just the screenshot, and then the second one is Pissed Off Ghost King™ Danny. that one was more to fuck around with ectoblasts and some other stuff. also i designed a crown!

some more stuff below the cut!

here's a version without the blasts bc im vvv proud of how these hands turned out, considering the weird ass proportions of the cartoon. big thanks to @friendly-neighborhood-imbecille for those hand ref sheets 👉🏼👉🏼 u the realest

See the full post

44 notes - Posted January 18, 2022

GUYS

GUYS LOOK

my friend @i-think-in-metaphors did this amazing commission for me!!! i redid the phantom planet statue for my au, and wrote a scene for one of my upcoming works where mateo gets to see it in person. i finally got tired of imagining it and wanted to see it.

and the product. is. GORGEOUS. it's so perfect. i'm in love. i'm gonna cry about this for the next 30 years. LOOK AT HIM.

(click for quality.)

check out her commissions!!

the scene it's based on is below the cut!

Excerpt from quit telling everyone i'm (permanently) dead! (wip)

The black zirconium statue was larger than life. It towered above them on two separate, stepped obsidian pedestals, each about five-feet high. As Mateo moved closer, he could see something glittering in the bases. Danny mumbled something about ectoplasmic ice mixed into it, stronger than diamonds, but Mateo thought they looked like stars. He figured that was the intention. It was gorgeous.

He tilted his head back to take in the actual sculpture. That Danny was twice as large as the one standing next to Mateo. He felt his heart lurch a little at how serious Danny looked, the tight furrow over his brow, the determined set to his jaw. It all made him look so much older than even now, even though Mateo knew he was only sixteen when the statue was made.

The statue’s zirconium white accents were blinding in the late afternoon sunlight, and Mateo found himself shading his eyes as he looked up even higher. The hair on the statue was shorter than Mateo had seen Danny wear his, probably closer to the length it had been when he was in high school. It was swept back heroically, as if moved by an unseen wind, and the sun glinted off its sharp edges. It made the whole statue look as if it were glowing.

Crystalized ectoplasm made Phantom’s eerie green eyes, and they glowed too, though Mateo figured they probably glowed under their own power rather than a trick of the light. The statue’s eyes were trained on the thin, steel-wire Earth he cupped protectively close to his chest; it was a promise as well as a remembrance. The world remembered what Phantom did for them, and he promised them he would do it all over again if necessary.

65 notes - Posted May 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

this is the road to ruin (and we started at the end)

IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!!

(click for way better quality)

Sam did this amazing cover for me and I literally can't stop staring at it. I'm making it my phone background like immediately. Here's their post, go give it a reblog!

prologue: without you, there's no reason for my story and chapter one: fading in the afterglow are live right now!

i'll be posting every SATURDAY starting this saturday 9/3! we got seven more chapters to go, lads, so buckle up!

71 notes - Posted August 29, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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destinyimage · 2 years

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Azusa Testimony: 35 People Healed of Deafness in One Evening

Listening to all the church bells in Tiberias, Israel reminded me of the stories that Brother Sines and Brother Christopher told me.

They were both part of the leadership team at Azusa. Although singing in the Spirit was already part of the worship services there, it was enhanced when Sines and Christopher joined them. With the addition of their piano and violin, the new heavenly song went from ordinary to extraordinary. Sines was about 26 years old during the Azusa Revival.

I met Brother Sines in 1960 at Pisgah. I stayed in a three-story dormitory where Sines was the dormitory director for all the single men staying at Pisgah. I had a deal with him that I would clean his apartment if he would tell me his stories. After I finished mopping the linoleum floors, we would get my favorite snack, and the amazing stories would begin.

Brother Sines had been a concert pianist, even working at one point with Tommy Dorsey. He brought his piano to the Apostolic Faith Mission. Without sheet music or a hymnal, whatever song Brother Seymour wanted him to play and sing, he would do it. “Tommy, when I was at Azusa, I’d sit and watch my fingers move, and it sounded like a thousand pianos playing,” he said. It brings to mind Revelation 5:11 (NIV), “Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand….” Can you imagine how glorious that must have sounded? It was like a heavenly choir singing.

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One of the miracles Brother Sines told me about was performed through Seymour. At that time, flames of holy fire were shooting into and out of the old warehouse. The whole place was full of the Shekinah Glory. This particular miracle involved a man who had smoked cigars for most of his life. He always had one stuck in the corner of his mouth. Where the cigar rested in his mouth, cancer grew. The cancer had eaten a hole in the man’s cheek. In his mouth, what wasn’t eaten away was black and rotten. Several teeth were missing.

He told Brother Seymour and Brother Sines that the doctor had given him no more than a year to live. Seymour told him that the doctor was right, but God could change it. He laid hands on the man and prayed; when he took his hands away, the black tissue had disappeared! They stood there and actually watched missing gums, teeth, and flesh fill in until he was made whole. We serve a mighty God!

Now, about six months after Sines had been at Azusa Street, Brother Christopher joined the congregation. He owned a Stradivarius violin and would accompany Brother Sines when he played his piano. In the years following Azusa, Sines and Christopher played many concerts together.

Brother Christopher also lived at Pisgah when he grew old. He lived in the dorm at the same time I lived there. He was one of the most polite and trusting men I have ever known. He was of Italian ancestry and still had coal-black hair in his 70s. He told me that when he played at the Azusa mission, he played in the Spirit: “I played at a level I never achieved even in my greatest concert,” he said. He once tried to bottle the Shekinah Glory; to his dismay, the bottle was empty the next morning. One of the miracles he was involved with concerned a blind man brought into the meeting by the man’s wife. In his left hand, he held a white cane with a red tip; with his right hand, he held onto his wife. The woman walked straight up to Brother Christopher saying, “My husband is blind. Heal him.” Christopher quietly explained that he couldn’t heal him, but he could pray for him, and Jesus would heal him. She insisted that he do so. Humbly and obediently, Brother Christopher prayed for the man. Instantly, he was healed!

Brother Fox

All this talk about music makes me think of all the people who have never heard singing or even the spoken word. Which leads me to Brother Fox. When Fox was in his late teens, he went to Azusa Street to prepare to go to the mission field. By the age of 20, he was performing miracles and bringing the word of God to India. I met him in 1963 when he retired to Pisgah; he was very happy to renew his friendships with many Azusa saints. He was about five feet, nine inches tall and kept his silver hair rather long and combed straight back. His hair was so shiny it would glow when he was around a light.

Occasionally, I would ride the trolley with him when he would go witness to those people riding the cable cars. In between his witnessing, he would tell me stories about India. What a mighty ministry he had! The Azusa Street miracles were told to me at his apartment while I sat at his feet listening intently.

Brother Fox said he was awestruck by the move of God! He said the manifestation of God’s power varied according to the degree of the Shekinah Glory present—the thicker the cloud, the greater the miracles! Fox had tremendous love and respect for Brother Seymour, saying he was a very deep man of God.

Brother Fox loved to pray for the deaf and the mute. One evening, a sign-language teacher at a school for the deaf brought in about 35 of his students. “If you want to teach them to sign, then why did you bring them to a place where they would get healed?” Fox asked the teacher. Looking surprised, the teacher said that Fox was talking like they would all get healed. Fox, emboldened by the Holy Spirit, replied that they would! Brother Fox asked them to form a circle and join hands. Without hesitation, Fox whispered in the first man’s ear and told the bad spirit to come out.

Immediately, the miracle happened! When the man could suddenly hear, he got very excited. When the others saw his excitement and amazement, they started getting healed one by one like a line of dominoes. All Fox had to do was whisper in the first man’s ear, then God took it from there. In just a few minutes, every single one of them was healed! Brother Fox had a strong belief in the power of Jesus.

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sexysilverstrider · 3 years

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bored so time to summarize When One Is Just aka the sequel to my ferriswheelshipping series When Two Are One

2 years after the event everyone seems to move on. mei is now the main character of the story. she is aware of the heroic deeds of white, the hero of truth but has never met her since the same person also disappeared months after the huge incident. the story is pretty canon compliant to bw2s plot.

but the lore here is kyurem is the empty husk of reshiram and dragon, hence is masterless. theres a tale where it once has a friend instead of a master, where the person befriended the empty shell of a dragon before their passing. kyurem is connected to a pendant by its friend; the pendant now lost to time.

mei has a cute pendant her mother gave her as a good luck charm :)

fast forward to mei confronting ghetsis. kyurem is being mind controlled by ghetsis using tht brainwash thing. N saves the day before mei gets impaled. trying and failing to reason with his asshole of a dad, N is then horrified by one realization.

white is captured and frozen in time by ghetsis scientific + magical contraption. its shape into an orb and placed on ghetsiss staff. N can see her and her team sleeping and unchanging.

ridden with guilt and anger, N fused with zekrom like how white did with reshiram. but this time N has more control and consciousness so he knows he will win.

wrong.

ghetsis uses his device to force kyurem fuse with him. now he has his own magical kyurem armour and goes against magical boy N. mei only watches his horror as the cave is slowly starting to collapse. all seems like a lost as N and zekrom gets overpowered.

but before ghetsis can celebrate, kyurem finally has 100% of its consciousness and body. and what did it do?

it transform back to kyurem. right from inside ghetsis. literally.

its claws. its sturdy tail. its giant head. its more giant body. all started to burst out of ghetsis as the man pops like a fleshy balloon.

once free with ghetsis nothing but blood and shattered bones, kyurem forces zekrom out of N and fuses with the dragon of ideals. N gets stunned and weakened but manages to catch the staff that trapped white and gang. panicked, he shatters the orb and finally frees the one he misses the most.

black kyurem goes apeshit and the city nearby is about to be destroyed. all hope seems lost as people and pokemon are being frozen solid and shattered like ice.

but mei then tries to reason with kyurem. she knows the pokemon has been ignored isolated and mistreated. this action finally causes the pendant tk react. she wants to bring justice to kyurems life.

she is the Hero of Just.

mei turns out to be the descendant of the ancestor who befriended kyurem before they get executed for being blamed of controlling a monster. mei sees the memories and cries at the horrifying revelation. she faces her ancestor and hears the words help kyurem...help my friend....

everyone panics as mei calmly approaches kyurem who had spat zekrom out. hyu sees her and man has never felt so much fear in his life.

magical blinks later mei fuses with kyurem. she too is now a magical girl. she sees and feels kyurems memories. she empathizes and sympathizes with the poor creature. theyre friends now.

in her hero form, mei unfreezes the land. unfortunately those shattered she cant save but at least most damage has been undone.

white is in a coma. she looks just the same 2 years ago. she and her pokemon never aged but look very weak due to the comatose. bianca and cheren are distraught and miss their friend. N feels guilty as hell. he starts crying and secretly seeing her one night to say that he should leave for her peace and safety.

after he leaves, theres a scene where whites fingers twitch; finally a semblance of movement from her.

N meets mei one final time in his broken castle. N confronts his past and fears and cries to mei. they have a battle before N decides to disappear again.

but of course. white finally comes into the castle and shouts Ns name at the top of her lungs. all while dressed in her hospital gown.

her team is alive and awake too. reshiram healing the fastest brings her to N. white starts punching Ns shoulders and chest and cries about how much she misses him and wants to see him and N is too overwhelmed by emotion of her to respond properly. hw just lets her vent out.

mei tries to stop white but isaac, whites samurott pops out of the ball looking VERY menacing thinking mei is a threat. meis serperior is horrified.

white then faints after overpushing herself. back to the hospital.

N and white finally lets out their feelings and emotions. N cries. white cries. she says theres nothinf to forgive (except maybe leaving her on that night). the two hug and make up for lost time. acting on instinct N just kisses her face and shoulders. he doesnt know what hes doing but he knows he wants to feel her. alive and real in his arms. white just lets him be as she misses him deeply.

SO the ending is mei is the lost hero of just. she and kyurem are friends but kyurem prefers to chill in the chasm while mei can contact with him emotionally and mentally via the pendant. she visits sometimes. hyu worries for her and they get closer in time :3c

but of course the star of the show is ferriswheelshipping. N and white make up and both decide to never. ever. leave each other again :') 💕

#the end LMAO #EVEN THE SUMMARY IS LONG #imagine the actual story holy sheet #like....i think hollow demon has the longest chapters so far?#knowing my desire to elaborate so much this will be a definitely looong story #even if i cut off some of meis standard adventures #anyways hope yall enjoy haha #this has been in my head for..........7-8 years 🤣#fafar yaps #about pokemon

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deepdonutkid · 3 years

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Morning sun

Requested: Yes, by @annoyingarcadeperfection

Pair: Finn x female Reader

Summary: Early birds are lovey-dovey~

Author’s note:

This is the first time in quite a while, where I start to write and not know exactly how it will end. I’m just as excited for this as you are.

It’s shorter than my usual one shot, but it’s not a bad thing I guess. This is more like an imagine.

Word count: 1222

Warnings: sex is mentioned?

What a sweet delight. The morning hours, when everyone was yet silent, but would soon come back to life, were a holy time. Just made for early birds, children and lovers, who just woke up from a mutual dream, still entangled and very sleepy.

You opened one eye first, blinked for a few times and looked around. The room was filled with the first rays of sunshine for today. Usually you would great the day as it came, lighthearted and full of joy, but right now there was a heavy weight on your chest. It was your boyfriend, Finn, still sleeping like baby. He had never looked as calm and soft as in the morning light. His cheeks were slightly red, his hair was undone and the look on his face was free of worries and sorrow, just like yours. However there was a difference. Your lips carried a peaceful smile. This was the perfect start for a perfect day.

Carefully, you played with his hair. It was so weird to see him without the pomade, he used every day. Now it was a fiery red chaos on his head and his locks went in every direction. You chuckled while he grabbed you more firmly. “Good morning, my dear”, you whistled, waiting for his reaction.

First he grunted, then he looked up, just to lay his head back on your belly and mumbled: “Good morning…” Finn might have said something else, it was just hardly audible.

“How did you sleep?”, you asked him and your hands hovered over his naked shoulder. You were still wearing your nightgown, but he stripped away his shirt in the middle of the night. Maybe he felt too hot under the blanket next to you. You didn’t noticed nor did you bother.

Now he was just lying there in his boxer short and made some sleepy noises. Your eyes widened, you squeaked joyfully, while his hands moved from your waist to your bottom. Finn was usually a very gentle lover somehow he seemed to find pleasure in kneading your ass keenly.

He poked his nose into your tummy and grunted again. When he finally looked back up again, you could see the lust in his eyes. “It was a little hot in here”, he explained and crawled on the sheets up to give you a kiss. Then he joked: “You, little Lady, radiate heat like an oven.”

“And you are just as cold as an icicle”, you laughed and put your arms on his shoulders. With a big smile on your face you glared down at the tent that built up in his pants. There was a rock hard icicle, but not actually a cold one.

Of course, Finn couldn’t not provoke you further. Just like the mean boyfriend he was he pushed his erection right against your thigh, which causes you to moan. With purring voice he groaned: “Am I really so cold?”

You shook your head and giggled. “No, but… the real question is… how can you still be so horny after last night. We had three rounds and you still want more?” It was more of a tease than an actual question. Since Finn asked you to be his girlfriend, you had plenty of sex, all the time and everywhere.

“Yes, I want more”, Finn admitted and bowed down so he could kiss your neck. The kiss turned into a bite and then he started sucking on your soft skin. All the sudden he whispered in your ear: “I still have something to prove.”

You knew what he was talking about, nevertheless you asked: “Still?” This topic caught your concern. Once- when you were just friends with Finn and not his girlfriend- you said, you thought he was gay and he took it a little too serious. Back then it didn’t even crossed your mind, that this might hurt Finn and you only got the idea, because you never saw him flirting with other girls like his friends did. He was friendlier than other guys, you had known. Finn was sweet and caring and never tried to do something inappropriate when you were around. He didn’t even laugh, when his friends told stories about their sex life. Later you had learned that Finn was just completely love-struck with you and he was so afraid to mess things up, that he became stiff and shy.

“It was only a joke”, you added and guided his head with your hand in your direction, so he would have to look you in the eyes. Then you purposed your next question. You sounded more severe than before. “Is being gay a problem for you?”

“No”, he vowed with a stern look in his eyes: “Of course not. Isaiah is one of my best friends and he is fucking everything he can. I don’t have a problem with him and he has had several guys.” His index finger caressed your cheek.

You were silent and kept staring at him. Why was he so eager about this? This topic was over and done… months ago. Why did he have to bring this up again? It was not like you hadn’t apologized for the misunderstanding right when it happened. Would you have to do this every time you would sleep with him again? Your teeth were grinding while you waited for him to say something else.

“Babe”, Finn said under his breath: “I just want you to know, that I’m just interested in women… actually it’s just one woman.” Now, he was going in the right direction.

Before he would speak further, he lay down next to you and smiled at you. “Yeah, she is really beautiful”, he explained: “Honestly, she has the perfect body and a magnifying soul and a joyful laughter… I could hear this all day. Her laughter brings me so much joy.”

While he whispered these sweet words, his fingers had their own mission, to drive you insane. You felt his touch, even though the fabric of your nightgown was parting you from him. His declaration to your beauty made you smile. The whole fight- well you wouldn’t call it a fight- was silly. Both of you were crazy for each other and this misunderstanding was long gone. It was just his usual tease. You shouldn’t have taken this so serious. After all, Finn was joking all the time. So, why not about this as well? Now you bid your lip not to hide your excitement, but because you felt a little guilt for nearly ruining this perfect moment.

“Yeah, I love her… I mean… I love you”, he confessed. First he sounded dreamy, like he wasn’t saying this intentional, but after he corrected himself, you knew this was not an accident. It took a while for you to process, but then it hit you. Finn just declared his love for you.

All at once you started laughing, pulling him closer for a kiss and purred against his lips. Your hands ruffled through his hair. Slowly you opened your mouth and brushed your tongue against his lower lip to beg for entrance. He moaned into the kiss.

Suddenly he pulled away and asked: “May I take this as a yes?”

You nodded in agreement, before bursting out into laughter and hiding your mouth behind your hands.

tagging: @bonniesgoldengirl @justalonelyslytherin

#peaky blinders #peakyblindersnet #pb.net #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fanfic #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders imagine #finn shelby #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby x you #finn shelby x y/n #finn shelby x #harry kirton #junior peaky boys #deepdonutkid

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