#this was a set up for a joke about oysters.

[mx-mind]

Edit: Because this post is picking up again and I'm once again getting people annoyed at me because I didn't mention their game or they don't like Portal/TSP for what was supposed to be the set up to an oyster joke I'm turning off rbs. Good day

#sky screams into the void #hi i have heard of most of the games yall are talking about. #this was a set up for a joke about oysters. #it was wrong of me to assume tumblrs hivemind would kick in and join in. #you dont have to be aggressive about me not mentioning any specific games. #thank you. id in alt

[august--and-everything-after]

I'm gonna miss my apartment because I'm going to miss living on my own, being entirely surveilled, and having space that is 100% mine (as far as a rental goes), and there are some great perks like the in-unit laundry and convenience factor of being to walk or take transit anywhere I could possibly need to go. But also fuck this place, there are issues I've had since the beginning and more I've discovered since, and I'll be glad to be rid of them.

#whoever designed/built a) the kitchen b) the closets and c) the ventilation system for the laundry and bathroom: #drop your location i just wanna talk #mainly to ask how you could possibly have lived to adulthood with such a complete lack of intelligence + planning skills + spatial awarenes #the kitchen is constantly a problem - not only for daily use but for storage as well #the closets seem like they were built by someone who has never seen a coat hanger in their life and doesn't know the dimensions of one #and the ventilation system - whoever is responsible for connecting the laundry and bathroom directly to one fan and one set of ducts #and connecting the DRYER OUTLET to the same system ensuring that 99% of the dryer lint ends up in the ceiling ducts and IN MY BATHROOM #fuck you forever i'm going to fling you into the ocean if i don't kick your ass first #good riddance to this place i hope the landlord has a nightmare of a time fixing this up for his kid #i feel bad for the kid being caught in the crossfire but what can you do #still thinking about the oyster mushroom ploy........ #ok that's my evil ranting for the night #august talking #i'd never get the payoff of learning if it worked and if it was a problem - but i didn't commit any of the bio-terrorism i could have when #worked at the lab so i deserve a treat #for legal reasons this is a joke #anyway that's my evil ranting done for the night just needed to get that out. #ultimately this will lead to better things for me but that doesn't mean i can't be angry and vindictive in the meantime

[kaylinelizabeth4004]

Heaven is Here

SYNOPSIS: Through many fleeting moments throughout history with a strange woman, Aziraphale and Crowley learn they accidentally trapped a human soul to Earth, stuck to reincarnate forever.

TAGS: Aziraphale x Crowley x Reader, fluff, slight angst, soulmate au (on accident), history, historical settings, no beta we die like men

WORD COUNT : 12,253

A/N: This fic is kind of accidental. I’ve always been more about Aziraphale/Crowley in this fandom than any reader insert, but one day I happened upon a Tumblr fanfic and had an idea. This probably won’t be a regular thing - except I am planning a sequel to this exact fic - but I thought why not. Im still more Aziraphale/Crowley.

55BC—————

"And you love this?" Crowley asked, holding the seafood up to the light as though it would reveal to Aziraphale all the disgusting little details.

"It's delightful!" Aziraphale insisted, showing Crowley how to eat the oyster. "Try it, dearest. You might just enjoy it."

Crowley pursed his lips, not wanting to put whatever the hell this was in his mouth. But Aziraphale was looking at him with those eyes. He didn't know how describe them, and he didn't want to analyze how they made his heart hurt inside his vessel's chest. So he closed his eyes and ate the damned thing.

He put a hand over his mouth to stop the gagging. This Angel's taste was not quite normal if this is what he considered fine dining. He tried to smile politely, to not let him know that it was utter horseshit.

"You don't like it," Aziraphale said with a rather disappointed voice.

"N-No, I don't," Crowley said, and he didn't know why but he was sad to disappoint the angel. He was just trying to be kind after all, it wasn't as though he had properly sinned. But why would a demon feel bad for an angel? That went against his lot's whole thing.

However, Crowley found a wicked part of him that liked pissing off his lot. He'd never put it in as many words however.

"Pity, they are quite delectable."

"Sure, angel," Crowley said, sipping a large mouthful of wine. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, eating and drinking as they'd like. Then Crowley looked up to Aziraphale's soft "ahem." He was pointing behind Crowley, and when he turned he saw what caused it.

A young woman was sat in the corner, a large glass of wine in her hands, and she was weeping to herself. It wasn't loud or particularly noticeable, if it wasn't for the tear tracks down her cheeks, glittering as they caught the light. She was looking at her lap and sipping the wine, balking at the taste yet coming back for more.

"She looks happy," Crowley said.

"She looks sad! You demons need to learn the proper emotions."

Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a moment, wondering if he was joking. Upon realizing that Aziraphale was, in fact, not joking Crowley said, "that was sarcasm, Angel."

"What was sarcasm?"

"My comment, 'she looks happy.' Of course she doesn't look happy that's why I said it."

Aziraphale furrowed his brows, "but your words meant the opposite of what you said."

"Exactly," Crowley said. And with a flourish he added, "it's called sarcasm."

"But why say something you don't mean? Isn't that lying?" Aziraphale asked, in all sincerity.

Crowley thought it over, "s'pose it could be seen that way. Most people view it as ironic."

"Oh, yes, of course." Aziraphale took an anxious sip of wine, looking back towards the girl.

"Angel..."

"Yes?" He was avoiding eye contact

"You don't know what ironic means, do you?"

Aziraphale pouted, "no I don't and I quite detest that you do."

"Ironic literally means saying the opposite of what you mean for some sort of point. Mine being that she looks downright miserable."

"Even though you said she looks happy." Aziraphale said slowly as he tracked that line of logic through his head.

"Right, even though I said she looks happy."

"And that's ironic?"

"Don't ya think?" Crowley said with a wide smile, his teeth appearing almost like he had pointed fangs.

"Why yes I do think-"

"Angel, that was irony."

"Oh." Aziraphale blinked rapidly a few times then sipped his wine, embarrassed he didn't know something that Crowley did know. He thought he was the knowledgeable of the two. "Well, sarcasm or not, we should help her."

"We?"

"Why - yes, we're both here and we see -"

"I don't help people," Crowley said quickly, his voice deep and harsh. "I'm a demon, I do the opposite of help."

"Well, yes but-"

"There are no buts with this. My lot were created to ruin your lots pickings. I pillage and plunder, that's my job." Crowley said this firmly as though it would make his point clearer. The more intense he was, the more his words seemed to slur together a bit.

Aziraphale paused for a moment, and Crowley wondered if he was about argue his point once more. "Isn't the phrase rape, pillage and plunder?"

"I don't do that. I'm not a monster," Crowley balked. He finished his wine and set the glass down. Throwing some money on the table he said, "sorry Angel. Got a priest to tempt. Catch you later."

"Oh, goodbye." Aziraphale said as Crowley ambled off through the restaurants doors. But despite himself, Aziraphale found himself smiling. Crowley wasn't truly all bad, even if he thought himself it. His gaze at the doors quickly moved over to the pretty girl weeping. She was still crying and her glass was a lot emptied.

Aziraphale got up, straightened his toga, and walked over to the girl. "Oh, um, hello. I'm -" oh shoot, he hadn't thought of this part yet. He had to quickly think of a name. Instantly his eyes shot up to the art above her, a fleece. Aha! "Jason. My name is Jason. Pardon the intrusion, but I couldn't help but notice you're upset."

She sniffled, setting the glass down on the table. Aziraphale was struck by her face, now that he could see it not turned down and hidden. She was pretty. She eyed him warily, "Yeah, what's it to you?"

Aziraphale sat down on the chair opposite her, "I wondered if I might be able to help."

She laughed bitterly, "only if you can stop the Emperor." Aziraphale's eyebrows raised at that and she rushed to cover for herself, "oh no, I didn't mean that. All Hail the Caesar and what not. He's doing a mighty fine job."

"It's certainly not a 'mighty fine job' if he's got you crying as such."

"No, I s'pose not."

"What can I do for you?"

"Nothing," she said honestly, wiping the tears away quickly. "Honestly, Jason, I appreciate the thought but what's done is done. You can't change the past."

Aziraphale made a face in slight disagreement, though he knew he couldn't explain that to a human female. "Then perhaps telling someone will make you feel better. I harbor no connection with the Emperor, your opinions are quite safe with me."

She stared up at him after he said this, looking him truly in the eyes as though they told her all she needed to know. Then she did speak. "It's this invasion on Britain. My father and brother were both sent off and I worry. I've heard horrible things about the natives, truly barbaric things like removing of one's head. I don't want them to be hurt. Especially my brother, he's so sweet. He could get hurt by the army rather the natives."

"Hurt by his own army?"

"He doesn't stand up for himself. And that lot can be harsh. I s'pose I shouldn't blame them, I'd be harsh too if I had to kill people in battle. But I worry they will pick on him, push him 'round to try and get him to fight, and he won't."

"Ah, I see," Aziraphale said, rolling his tongue in his mouth as he thought it over. "Well, I can assure you one thing. The natives are not unnecessarily cruel. They do fight, but only when they need to. You couldn't expect anything less, dear."

She nodded, biting her lip. "No, you're correct. I'd defend my country against invaders as well."

"But they won't torture. Your brother will be quite alright, I'm sure of it."

After a minute of silence she looked up again at Aziraphale, "Thank you, Jason. Strangely enough, that makes me feel better. Knowing it wouldn't be torture."

"No, it wouldn't be."

"I really should be going, my daughter will be expecting me."

"Right, of course. Blessings on you, my dear." And though he'd already said the blessing, he felt compelled to say it again. To strengthen it for this poor soul. "Blessings on you forever."

Aziraphale helped her out of her seat. Just then, for an imperceivable second, Aziraphale thought he saw a golden shine cross her eyes. He didn't think much of it, figured it was the miracle. He'd never seen that happen, but he wasn't often looking in their eyes.

She took his hand, kissed the back of it, and thanked him again before walking out. Aziraphale smiled contentedly, though he felt a pull in his heart he hadn't felt before. Urging him to follow her, but he figured it was some sort of indigestion.

Crowley was sprawled on a bench not far from the restaurant, glancing up at a night time sky he couldn't see. He wanted to see it, but he gave up on that dream 2,000 years ago. The Fall took many things, and his eyesight was one of them. He could still see in general, he knew what people's faces looked like and where he was going. But specifics were lost on him, and the night looked like eternal darkness rather than the sparkling stars and planets he'd been told about.

"I helped create some of those," he mumbled to himself.

Then he closed his eyes, needing to not look at what he couldn't see. It still hurt, as though the wound wasn't thousands of years old. But it never properly healed in the first place.

He felt a weight against his foot and heard a thud within a matter of seconds, and he blinked in surprise. At his feet, a young woman was crumpled to the ground. His foot was sticking out in the pathway. Whoops.

He thought about rising to help her, then thought better of it. Beelzebub didn't need another reason to hate him. So he sat still and watched the woman get onto her hands and knees, glaring at him.

"Not going to help are you?"

"No, I think I'm keen to just watch," Crowley responded. She rolled her eyes, getting onto her feet and dusting off her toga. He examined her quickly, not knowing what to make of her. Then, she said something entirely unexpected.

"Keep your foot out of the way, asshole."

It wasn't a particularly inspired remark, nothing witty or threatening. But it was the fact that a random woman said that to him, a demon, without prompting. And with that remark, she walked away.

"Damnation on you eternally," Crowley murmured, waving his hand in a flourish towards the woman. He doesn't know why he said it, he's never really said it like that before and he certainly didn't why he even added the 'eternally' bit. But whatever the reason, he said it.

Though he knew she was too far away to hear him, she turned and looked back. And found a brief moment, maybe it was the trick of the light, he saw a golden shine pass over her eyes. She smirked shyly, then turned and walked away. And with each step, Crowley felt his heart pulse in a way he hadn't felt before.

1377—————

There was complete silence in the cathedral as a young boy, only aged 10 and dressed in trousers, walked through the crowd towards the priest. They seemed to hold their breaths as he lay on the floor before God, surrendering himself to Her mercy. Aziraphale watched the coronation. He had mixed feelings about the child, Richard. He wasn't a particular fan of the whole 'king' concept, but he thought the honoring to God bit was a nice touch. He wore simple enough clothes to note stand out, yet nice to enough to be recognized as a noble. His layers were in varying degrees of beige as he hid in the very middle of the crowd.

After the 10 minutes on the floor, Richard rose and made his way to the priest where he was being dressed in oil.

"Bit like a salad, eh?" A sultry, baritone voice said from beside Aziraphale, making him shudder. When he looked, it was Crowley. Dressed in similarly simple noble clothes, of course in tones of black and red, he watched the young king as different body parts were coated in oil for different purposes.

"Crowley? How did you get in here? It's a church?" Aziraphale said in a hushed whisper, earning glares from the people beside him. "Sorry Lord Wellington."

"Churches are built by humans."

"And what does that have to do with anything? You're still a demon in a place of worship for God," he said the word 'demon' especially softly for fear someone would turn in a panic at the word 'demon' being said in a cathedral.

"Yeah but it wasn't made by God. It was made for Her, by humans. Totally human structure."

"It is not."

Crowley shrugged his shoulders, "you got a better reason I can come and go in these?"

Aziraphale pursed his lips, "I suppose not."

A loud smack echoed through the church and Crowley frowned, "you made me miss the slap, Angel."

"That is your concern?"

Crowley shook his head in frustration, "He's a bloody king now, last time he coulda gotten hit and it's by a priest. S'course I wanted to see it."

"He's a child."

"Not anymore. He's got too much to think about now to be a child."

"No," Aziraphale wondered. "I suppose he's not longer a child at all. You know, dearest, you really do have the grandest thoughts when you think about it."

"Shut up," Crowley replied, his cheeks turning rosy at the compliment.

Within seconds of him saying it, the priest placed the crown on top of boy's head and declared loudly, "Long Live King Richard II!"

The crowd burst into applause as the young king was carried through the cathedral. They whooped and hollered, crying "all hail" and "god save the king" as he passed them by. The boy looked cheerful, pink cheeks and bright curls waving underneath a crown that looked awful heavy for a boy his age. But no, Aziraphale thought, perhaps this was the end of his childhood after all.

"Are you attending the feast afterwards? I hear they will serve beef, and I haven't have beef in decades!"

"Ahh, well I don't know, Angel."

Aziraphale smiled, leaning in as though he was sharing a conspiratorial secret, "I hear there are miraculously two spots for a Lord Fell and Mr Fell, if you are so inclined."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up, eyes hidden beneath his favorite pair of sunglasses, "oh you devil!"

Aziraphale's smile dropped, "don't you say that."

There was a pause as Aziraphale processed the hurtful words, and Crowley processed that he actually cared to make it right to him. Then all at once, they both started speaking on the issue, words overlapping in a frightful mess.

Crowley sighed, "Right I'm sorry -"

"- that really hurts -"

"- I know, I know -"

"- I mean, I am most certainly not fallen -"

"-we had this conversation in 1066 -"

" - I did not appreciate that."

" -I know, Angel. I'm sorry."

After that final note, Aziraphale nodded. "Alright, well. Thank you."

They started to walk together towards the banquet hall not far from there, waiting to indulge in fine wines and beef. There was a large parade towards it, all the nobles and even those fortunate peasants engaged in laughing and singing. Jesters performed stupid dances in their funny hats, knights marched in perfect unison, and songs came pouring from every lute and voice in the area. It was a perfect celebration of a new king, all on their way to fall victim to gluttony, drunkenness, lust, greed and infinitely more temptations.

All things that should fill Crowley's heart with a miserable sort of glee. And yet... he felt off. Crowley couldn't explain the feeling in his chest, almost like a nagging telling him things weren't right. But all this temptation, he thought. This ought to be perfect! But it wasn't, and he had a feeling before he even glanced at his Angel that it was because of him.

Sure enough, he was right. Though Aziraphale hadn't said anything, being kind enough to accept Crowley's words at face value and dropping it, but Crowley knew him well enough to know something was wrong. He hadn't made it up to him.

"Angel, a word -" Crowley said, grabbing Aziraphale's elbow and leading him away from the crowd. As he did so, he missed the way Aziraphale's mouth dropped open, blue eyes fixated on the contact. They'd rarely touched before.

"Yes, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked politely but his tone was full of too much passive aggression to really be polite. He stood stock still, arms poised in front of him and looked expectedly at Crowley.

"I- I, I need to..." Satan this was hard. The words felt like glue in Crowley's mouth but he did his best to force them out. "I need to, to s'make it up to you."

"Pardon?"

Oh damn Aziraphale, making Crowley actually communicate. "What I said, I was wrong. You were right. It wasn't right of me and I need to make it because my apology isn't enough."

"I never said that."

"Ah, yeah, you never said it. But you's do this thing with your face when you's upset. And my words aren't getting there. Just tell me what I can do to make it up to you."

They waited a moment, staring at one another. Suddenly, a large crash came from parade and the two looked over in surprise. The musicians were playing a long, one very eager man slamming the cymbals that caused such a loud sound. Behind them another jester bobbled along a delicate little dance, flourishing his arms on either side before turning and doing a bow.

Crowley saw Aziraphale's eyebrows raise, the corner of his cute little mouth twitch up and a finger pointed towards the little dance. He ran to stop it, saying, "no, no, no, I'm not doing that."

"Come now-"

"A dance? You want an 'I was wrong, You were right dance'? You can't be serious, Angel."

"I am serious, you wily serpent. Now do the little dance or I'll never forgive you," Aziraphale said in mock frustration, puffing out his chest.

Crowley saw before him a choice, between what his lot were bound to and Aziraphale. And without a second thought, he chose Aziraphale. He would choose Aziraphale every time, he just didn't know it yet. And so, despite all the humiliation he knew this would cause him if the bosses down under ever found out, Crowley did the little dance.

Aziraphale watched, eyebrows raised in shock. He hadn't thought Crowley would do it. Certainly not for him. But as Crowley bowed, enunciating his t's with a flourish, he couldn't help but smile.

"Very nice."

"Are we good, now?"

Aziraphale beamed, "quite right, dearest. We are quite right."

Crowley let out a breath, adjusting his glasses as though they would hide that dance from history's books. "Well then, let's get a move on."

The pair followed the parade into the banquet hall, and continued with the affair. Aziraphale literally wiggled in his seat when the food was placed before him, so excited he couldn't sit still. Crowley drank the wine, actually quite good for English wine.

Then the dancing started. King Richard - now Richard II - climbed on top of the table and proclaimed everyone to dance. And so, the nobles in their fancy gowns, drunk and laughing to no end, jumped from their seats to join in the dance. Aziraphale sat still for a moment, not knowing what he should do. Angels don't dance, not really. But this Angel longed to dance.

Crowley saw the way his fingers tapped along the table to the beat. He groaned, getting up from his seat.

"S'alright Angel, up up."

"Pardon -"

"You heard what I said. Come on Angel, let's dance."

Aziraphale giggled and got up, following Crowley into the chaos of swirling dresses and flirtatious looks between anyone and everyone. Almost immediately they were separated, swung by different partners.

Crowley danced with an older woman who squeezed his buttocks when she thought he wasn't looking. He wasn't fond of dancing, not the way Aziraphale was, but he enjoyed the freedom of it all. There were no rules, not really. Yes some people liked the structured ones where you pose and turn on every 3rd beat or what not. But in dancing there was an air of just living - being truly alive. That's what it was all about, it's all anyone yearned to feel.

In the next turn to switch partners, time seemed to slow for Crowley. He saw her, flitting between the people to slide her arm into Crowley's and continue the dance. She was pretty in an unconventional way. A way society might not call beautiful, but made Crowley stop and stare. He was pulled towards her, as though he couldn't control it. She was the center of his focus and he wanted nothing more than to meet her. Then, she turned that pretty gaze on him. Her lips quirked into a smile, hands warm and soft as they held his tightly. Her skin was flushed from the dance, and her dress swung around her in bright, dashing colors. The last dance had ended and all the people were gasping for air yet still ready to dive into the next.

"Hello," she said softly, though somehow he heard her voice over the crowd.

"Hello," Crowley answered back, not sure what to do. He'd never been in this position before.

"A dance?" She asked, taking a deep bow before holding her hand out. Palm up. She wore one, golden signet ring.

"I'd love to," Crowley answered honestly, taking her hand and pulling her into him.

She giggled happily, throwing an arm around his neck as he led the pair towards the center of the dance floor. He started to laugh along with her. Their dancing wasn't particularly good, both of them knew that, but they were having fun. She would twirl away only to twirl back into him awkwardly, laughing so hard she snorted which only caused a barking laughter from Crowley. They continued forward, holding each other close until the final pull drew them chest to chest. She was shorter than he, and she glanced up through dark lashes.

"Hi," she murmured, her breath hitting Crowley's face. She smelled of wine and temptation. He looked into her eyes and there it was - that one moment in history he thought was a fluke.

It had been 1,432 years, not like he was counting, but he didn't forget the way the golden band seemed to fleet over her eyes back in 55BC. And now, he saw that same golden shine slide over the same pair of eyes. It was just a second and yet it made Crowley's mouth drop. She saw it too, but for different reasons. He watched as she looked at his lips, he could tell what she was thinking.

She went to lean in, breasts pressed against his chest and breath hot, but was ripped away by the next dance. She giggled wildly as she was pulled into a circle, but found herself glancing over her shoulder to stare at the handsome stranger she almost kissed.

As Crowley stood in the middle of the floor, mystified, Aziraphale went over to his table to get a drink. All this dancing was positively amazing, but it certainly drained one of their energy.

As he brought the cup to his lips, a body crashed into his, sending the crimson liquid all over his clothes.

"Oh, bugger," he said, setting the cup down to assess the damage.

"I am so sorry, sir!" A girl said, breathless as she ran over. "That was entirely my fault. Please, let me help you clean it. I'm sure there's a tub not far."

Aziraphale smiled politely and went to decline the kind offer, but when he looked into her eyes he found himself agreeing to go with her. She lit up with excitement, grabbing his hand and pulling him away. There was something about her, something he couldn't explain. But he was in awe of her movements and eager to learn more about her.

She turned into an empty hall near a bathroom. She had him wait here while she collected a basin of water and grease.

"I can't promise it will fully work," she said as she set it down, "but I'll do my best. I really am so sorry, sir. I would have never ruined your clothes intentionally."

"It's quite alright. They weren't my favorite anyway," he said as he removed the outer layer. His multiple layers undergarments were fine, and could suffer slight staining. It was the outer garment that changed the most.

She shook her head as she dunked it in the basin, "you can't mean that, sir."

"I find that I quite do," he said, watching her with a quite awe.

"What's your name, sir? I feel I've seen you before," she said, suddenly watching him with the same astute attention. She kept narrowing her eyes as though she'd remember.

Maybe it was the stain, the wine, the party, the demon nearby, or maybe it was just this woman that did it to him but without realizing, he answered honestly, "Aziraphale."

Her eyes lit up, "like the Angel?"

"Precisely, my dear."

"That's a beautiful name. Aziraphale, Aziraphale... can you believe it?" She mumbled the last bit to herself, rubbing liberal amounts of grease into the fabric.

"Do you have a connection to the name? Or the Angel, perhaps?" Aziraphale asked curiously, wanting to hear more about her.

"I do, strangely enough. It's a silly connection..." she said, absentmindedly turning the signet ring over and over on her hand.

"I rather find that when it comes to angels and demons, nothing is silly." Aziraphale chose to neglect some of the more strange decisions the staff had made.

"I, well, oh goodness it sounds all made up. Well, I was in the shops the other day. My friend makes jewelry and he's very good. I came by and he said a man dropped off this gold signet ring with the name Aziraphale burned into it. Said he didn't know what to do with it, not many people knows the Angel, and he gave it to me." She took the ring off her finger, staring at it with an admiration before holding it out to him. "It's your name. You should have it."

"Oh I couldn't possibly take from you, dear."

She shook her head, "no it's not taking. It's a gift. It's fate, that I should have a ring for an Aziraphale just before meeting one of my very own."

"Oh dear, I couldn't -"

She interrupted him by pressing a soft kiss to the ring, taking his hand and sliding it onto his pinky finger. When she looked up, still holding his hand, Aziraphale's jaw dropped. That golden shine. Where had he seen that before? It was brief, flashing over a pair of kind eyes, but it was there all the same.

"Please accept this, Aziraphale."

"I - I will. Thank you, my dear."

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale saw her after that night. They didn't know her name, her status, or even really remember her outfit. If Cinderella was around, she would have been the prime candidate for it. Neither told each other about their experience with a strange woman until 150 years later as they talked about Henry VIII's decision to have Anne Boleyn beheaded. Nasty business that was.

1601—————

"He's really quite good," Aziraphale said, watching fondly as the actor of Hamlet lamented about life and death. It really was moving the way he toyed between truly living a life, or if death was not truly what life was about.

Aziraphale found himself doing that 'excited sigh' that Crowley described. He found it an odd way of saying his behaviors, but Crowley insisted that when Aziraphale was excited it wasn't a 'satisfied sigh' but an 'excited sigh.' To be fair, he'd said this after 2 whole bottles of wine and a shot of pure vodka, so Aziraphale couldn't grant its true authenticity. A drunk demon would truly say anything just to illicit a reaction.

The speech made him wonder what it was like to be a human, with no certainty about what happens with their souls. They don't have a guarantee about life, or death, and yet are expected to do as they are told with no questions. Crowley knew what it was like to ask questions, and it lead to scars even Aziraphale didn't know about.

"Ngk, s'pose so." Crowley grumbled, watching as the man stamped his foot on the stage. "Bit dramatic, no?"

"It'd a tragedy!" Aziraphale countered, furrowing his brows in surprise.

"Eh, I still prefer the funny ones."

Aziraphale shook his head, turning to watch the man on the stage. A flash of purple fabric caught his eye, and his gaze traveled to see a young woman peaking out from behind the railing. She was trying to stay hidden, but Aziraphale could see that she just couldn't resist the temptation to watch the rehearsal. Her eyes were bright and wide, soaking in the sight. Her clothes were dirty and well worn, a few sizes too big and the hem covered in a layer of mud. But despite it all, she looked entirely unique.

She was pretty, and Aziraphale didn't often feel as though many humans were pretty. He appreciated the art of humanity, and believed each human was their own work of art. But he didn't feel a pull to any of them, but her... she had an attraction to her. He could see her lean too far over the edge, as though the stage were dragging her in. It wasn't just a love and an admiration, it was an addiction. Aziraphale could see what was going to happen moments before it did, but it was too late. The girl tumbled over the edge and fell onto the floor of the Globe, catching the attention of everybody in the rehearsal space.

Her cheeks immediately blotted pink, covering her face in a rosy hue as the stage manager came to her with a snarl, "oi, who're you?"

"I-I-"

"You's not supposed to be 'ere," he said, grabbing her roughly by the arm and dragging her to her feet. She stumbled along as he pulled her to the entrance. "Out with you."

"Mary? Whatcha doin here?" Crowley called out, sauntering over to the man and the girl. The man stopped, looking at Crowley with a skeptical gaze. The girl's eyes widened, bright and eager, as she realized what Crowley was doing and she nodded vigorously.

"Yes, sir, I came to fetch you! Mistress Paulson requested you." She said quickly, trying to stand on her own despite the stage manager's tight grasp.

The man cocked an eyebrow, "oh yeah? You know's him?"

"Know me? Know me?" Crowley sauntered over with a cackle, "me's and Mary goes way back."

She nodded, ripping her arm from the man's grasp then standing politely. "Oh yes, Mr..."

"Oh don't bother with all the Mr Crowley Miss whatever business, just call me Anthony like any other bloke."

"Anthony has helped my sister much. He's an excellent doctor," she said, standing firm. Aziraphale watched her in awe, he was impressed. She picked up that Crowley was saving her quickly, easing into the lie with an expert comfort. She seemed familiar, as though they'd met her before. And most importantly, she was intelligent.

"Doctor? You didn't mention that about your friend," the man said to Aziraphale, his enunciation so poor he practically spat the words at Aziraphale's feet.

Aziraphale flashed a charming smile, "I hadn't realized that those particular skills would, uh, come up in a theatre of this, err,... caliber."

"I haven't the pleasure of meeting you, sir." The girl piped up, her smile was warm and gentle. But he could see in her eyes a tension, wanting to convince this man to not throw her out or worse - press charges. "My's names Mary Edwins. Friend of Mr Crowley."

Mary Edwins, clearly a fake name. Just basic enough to be believable, but enough slight hesitation that Aziraphale knew she was lying. She gave a little curtesy, spreading the oversized purple skirt over the floor. It really was too large, but she still looked charming. Aziraphale felt as though he'd seen that curtesy before. There it was, fast you could have blamed the lighting, Aziraphale knew better. There that same golden shine came over her eyes, if just for a moment. His mouth fell open in a little 'o,' unable to speak for a while 10 seconds before stuttering out, "oh, h-hello Miss Edwins, I'm Mr Fell."

The stage manager thought on it for a moment, before deciding that he wasn't paid enough to care. It was hours away from opening night, after all, and the little boy playing Ophelia needed alterations in his costume.

"Alright then," he said, walking back towards the director, a Mr William Shakespeare.

The girl was still a few feet away as Crowley walked dramatically back towards Aziraphale. The Angel tried to ignore it. He hadn't mentioned that part of it with Crowley, and he didn't know how to continue. Crowley mistook Aziraphale's expression as one of angelic smugness and rose a finger, "shut it, Angel."

"That was a good thing you did," he said with a little smile. He pushed it to the back of his mind, something to worry about when it was late and the city was asleep.

"Twasn't good, no. I was, real, I - I - I was bad. I let a criminal get away."

Aziraphale patted Crowley's shoulder, "no, dearest. You let a woman enjoy her passion. Look at her, you've saved her."

The pair glanced over at her as she tried, and failed, to subtly watch the actors get ready for their next scene. Her hand was on her heart, as though if she didn't put it there her heart would pop right out.

"Ehhh, that's not saving. Not really."

"Oh, it's not? Then what would you say is a human's purpose?" Aziraphale asked with a soft voice.

"I thought that's your job, Angel. Praising God and what not."

Aziraphale pursed his lips, looking away from Crowley. "You know as well as I that love of God is not all humans were made for. I am of the firm opinion they are here for their passions. They survive by it. They might be able to live with food and water alone, but no soul could truly exist without their drive. And this woman, her passion is theatre."

"Rather blasphemous words from an Angel."

"Rather kind actions from a demon."

Aziraphale smiled, looking towards the stage. Crowley tried to hide the blush on his ears and cheeks. It was always his ears that turned bright red from, from, well he didn't quite know from what. But he felt the heat and looked away. He looked at the girl, who perked your once she realized he saw her. She went over shyly.

Despite her apprehension, she raised her voice enough to say, "thank you for your help, Mr Crowley and Mr Fell."

"Mmm," was Crowley reply, gazing around the globe with a distinguished air about him. As if he was the most important person in the room. He tried to ignore her presence. She had a pull to her and he couldn't explain it, didn't want to address it. He already had the issue of a certain Angel who wouldn't leave his mind.

"Who are we to stop the love of the arts?" Aziraphale said, rather eccentrically. "Though you could have waited a few hours to see the whole show."

"I can't afford it," she said quietly, staring at her feet. Aziraphale noted her sweet little boots, their pointed ends digging into the dirt out of anxiety. "My mistress only gave me the morning. I need to be back in an hour."

Crowley and Aziraphale shot a glance with one another, not quite knowing how to respond. They stood in silence, the girl's eyes wide as she drank in Ophelia's mad lullabies.

"What's your name?"

"Mary Edwins."

Crowley smiled, "nice try, love. Your real name."

She cocked an eyebrow, glancing up at first at Crowley, then at Aziraphale, before looking back at her reflection in his sunglasses. "Why do you want to know?"

"We did help you, dear. We'd just love to know you, but if you cannot tell us, we won't rush you."

"Are you two a couple?" She asked quickly, pointing at the two and waving her hands in some strange, gesture of coupling. Her choice of question was so drastic, they didn't bother to notice the intentional diversion in topics.

Aziraphale looked up, mouth dropping in a little 'o' and he looked at Crowley. Crowley lifted a brow. Aziraphale answered, "We've known each other for a long time."

"That doesn't answer my question, Mr Fell."

"Aren't you a sly one, Miss Edwins." Crowley sneered, his top lip recoiling.

She just smiled, shrugging her shoulders with a little giggle. "Suppose so, Mr Crowley."

The golden shine. Crowley sucked in a harsh breath as she turned to look back at the stage. He could practically hear all his thoughts as they raced through his head, and he was unable to settle on just one. Those eyes. He hadn't seen them in years and yet this was the third woman who just happened to flirt with him, and had a gold shine go across her eyes. He reckoned she didn't know it happened, she probably didn't know what those little eyes could do to an immortal creature. Crowley swallowed, praying she never had to.

Then, the show continued and 'Mary's' eyes seemed transfixed. Aziraphale loved the theatre, Crowley enjoyed it, but 'Mary' adored it.

Crowley watched her eagerly, partly out of curiosity and partly because he liked feeling her passion in his soul as though it was her own. He found himself attracted to it, a drag of one's purpose. The passion filled her up, and she seemed to want to lean into it. She gasped as Hamlet killed his mother, she listened with eager ears as he instructed the actors on how they were to act, she cried as it seemed that everyone fell to the floor in a miserable death. Then, it was over. Actors stumbled to their feet, laughing as though they weren't stabbed with poisoned rapiers. The story was over, but 'Mary' seemed to be in a daze. Crowley watched with shrewd, yet eager eyes as she came out of it.

Then she straightened her back, smiling tightly to both of them. "Mr Fell, Mr Crowley, thank you for letting me stay. It has been such a gift. I'm afraid I must go."

"Let us escort you home," Aziraphale said, without realizing what he was offering.

She blinked wide eyes, "there's no need, sir. It's two blocks away."

Crowley lifted his chin, "love, we'd like to see you off safe."

"If you insist. Though I must tell you it's entirely through the city. Eyes will be on you at all times," she said it as a threat, a reminder to not do anything unsavory. Crowley almost frowned at that little bit of false hope. If they actually had bad intentions, a crowd wouldn't stop anything. She wasn't truly safe. But both Crowley and Aziraphale nodded, as though they truly headed her warning.

"Was that your first Shakespeare production?" Aziraphale asked, making polite conversation as he walked on one side of her, Crowley on the other.

"Oh, no. I do my best to attend all of them. I tend to prefer the funny ones, but the crowds can be a bit much for me."

"Eh? What'd you mean by that?" Crowley asked.

She blushed, "I don't like when crowds get very loud. They tend to jeer and toss things at the actors. It doesn't feel safe for anyone. I do enjoy his dramas though."

They walked in companionable silence for a moment before she asked the next question, "what do you two do? If I may, you're dressed rather odd."

"Odd?" Crowley asked with a frown, gazing down at his outfit. He was quite proud of this outfit. The ruff was amazing, really helped one feel confident.

'Mary' giggled. "I don't dislike your outfits, you just don't see these colors often."

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance, shifting in their outfits. Perhaps they do cling to their colors a bit much. But Aziraphale never felt it was a problem, he was proud of his wardrobe.

"I make my own clothes," Aziraphale said with a smile.

'Mary' lightened up, her eyes taking on a bright, sparkling quality before she actually smiled, a little tell that Aziraphale noticed. He'd seen that before, but couldn't place it. "That is quite wonderful, Mr Fell. I'd love to make my own, however I mostly sew for my mistress."

"You make her clothes?"

"Oh no, I tend to mend them."

The conversation lulled again, and Crowley bit his lip as he thought before asking the question that has been on his tongue since the play ended, "why do you love theatre so much?"

Her chest flared, her eyes wide and sparkling, and she could barely contain the words before they poured from her in excited spurts, "what's not to love? It's stories about being human wrapped up in fancy costumes and dramatic voices. It's full of stories that seem so outrageous yet we still find our way to connect. Isn't it just fascinating that you could watch a show about a man, driven mad by jealousy caused by a deceiving friend, murdering his wife and leave full of emotions? You'd think you'd be mad at the murderer, condemning him for killing his love. And yet, there's more to it than that. You can't quite hate Othello, but you can't love him either. It's so hard to explain what it is to be human, there's no word or sentence to explain it. It can be so isolating. But these stories can give us insight. I, sorry, I'm rambling," she said, taking a wistful sigh.

"Stories can be found anywhere, dear. Books, especially," Aziraphale noted. He enjoyed hearing her speak with such fire. In the back of his mind, he felt as though he could recall someone else talking about their love of stories, but he couldn't place it.

She nodded, smiling. "Yes, of course. And I adore books too. It's just... theatre is such a temporary art. Those moments on stage, or watching, could never be recreated, it could never be exactly as it was. And that's what made it so beautifully tragic. You are stuck with a slightly different story each night, with different takeaways."

"What a beautiful takeaway," Aziraphale said, watching her with a slight sort of awe.

She blushed, "I'm hardly unique in that way."

"Ngk," Crowley mumbled in disagreement, though he didn't actually say a word. Yet, she seemed to still understand what he was trying to say and blushed all the same.

As they walked, Crowley took off his sunglasses for a moment to wipe his eyes. He seemed to forget that his were unusual, yellow and with a snake like slit as a pupil.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"M'yeah," Crowley answered, opening his eyes to look at her. After the initial realization he was seeing her without glasses, thus revealing the snake like eyes, he went to shove the sunglasses back on. But she wasn't looking unkindly at him.

Instead, she smiled widely, "they're beautiful."

"Wot?" He said in shock.

"Your eyes are beautiful, Mr Crowley." Then, as Crowley sputtered in surprise, she stopped in front of an expensive flat. "This is me mistress's. Thank you, Mr Crowley and Mr Fell."

She looked both of them in the eyes as she said their names, and with equal kindness and appreciation. Then, she turned away and scampered around towards the servants entrance. Aziraphale waited until she was inside to blow out a breath.

"She was something," Crowley said.

"Yes, she was."

"I- angel, I could be wrong on this but didn't she feel-"

"Familiar?" Aziraphale finished for Crowley, looking down the alley as though she would magically reappear.

"Yes! It's so bloody weird," Crowley said, rubbing his hand along his jaw.

"Yes, weird," Aziraphale said, enunciating weird in an odd way that made Crowley furrow his brows. The two beings tried to shrug off this encounter, heading their separate ways for the time being.

1865—————

Aziraphale stared at Crowley as though he'd never seen him before, utterly gobsmacked. "I will not provide you that, that thing! It's suicide."

"Aw not for that Angel," Crowley groaned, waving his hand nonchalantly as though he hadn't asked for the one thing that would completely kill him. "Just for, err you know, protection."

"You are a demon, Crowley. The world would need protection from you."

Crowley tried to not let that sting. He'd never said as much to Aziraphale, but these last 200 years have really brought some perspective over what it is to be a demon. He found a weird sense of discomfort over the word demon. As though he were entirely bad because of what he was, and not what he does. But he'd never say it, or tell Aziraphale he accidentally rhymed.

"It's not like that, I just want to secure myself. That's all."

Aziraphale pursed his lips and looked away, not bearing the thought that his closest acquaintance would dare to think of something like that. It was simply not going to happen, Aziraphale refused to let that happen. Crowley was going to live forever, with Aziraphale, and he was going to do so happily. He'd never tell Crowley, of course, but Aziraphale didn't know if he could manage eternity without him.

"Oi! That can't have that!" Crowley said quickly, throwing himself off the bench and facing towards a woman standing by the river.

She turned to look at the, in her view, random man dressed in mourning garb barreling towards her and shouting in a thick accent. She clutched the loaf of bread close to her chest, eyeing him warily as he continued rambling.

"Bread's not good for 'em, it can - can - can cause diseases," he said once he got close to her.

She sucked in a breath. He was taller than he'd looked from afar, and she found herself staring at him. He was also quite handsome, with tanned skin and shocking bright red hair, curled away from his face. She noticed a pair of odd looking spectacles hiding his eyes, and a tattoo peaking out beneath his sideburns.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," she said breathlessly. She felt kind of stupid now, holding a loaf of bread as he stared at her with a passion for the ducks. A man dressed in all beige apparel came by quickly, standing by the other man's side. He looked kind, with bright blue eyes and plush pink lips she didn't even realize she'd taken note of.

"I'm terribly sorry for my friend's outburst," Aziraphale said to the woman, still looking shellshocked. "Though I'm afraid he is right, bread is not the best for them."

She looked down and stared at it. "Right, well I apologize. I hadn't been doing it long, if it's of any comfort."

Crowley grumbled but didn't say anything else, eyeing her with skepticism. After a pause where the three stood in silence, the woman tore the loaf into three sections. She then offered up a piece to each of the men, "better we eat it than them?"

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a glance, they hadn't expected this. Maybe it was the mood of St James's Park or the pull of this young girl, but they reached out to accept their proffered piece.

Just then a golden shine passed over her eyes. Both men's jaws dropped as they'd never shared of this particular detail of their stories, and had never experienced it together. And, for the first time, she seemed conscious of it too.

A hand went up to her cheeks just below her eyes, which had grown wide in surprise. "What was that?"

"Pardon?" Aziraphale asked in that slightly tense voice he had when he was covering up for something.

"The, my, my eyes. I was looking and then it went all - gold like."

"Oh I don't know about that," Aziraphale said.

She shook her head vehemently, pointing at the both of them. "Yours did too, and yours!"

"You saw our eyes shine gold?" Crowley asked shyly.

"Y-yes. I saw through your spectacles. The whole eye, it went gold -"

"It must have been a trick of the light, dearest. Eyes don't 'go gold.'"

She shook her head again, "no. I know what I saw. I, I think I'd better go. Thank you for the, the, the ducks."

"Wait-" "Don't go-" Aziraphale and Crowley started at the same time, but she'd already lifted her skirts so she could walk away as quickly as possible.

"She saw it this time," Crowley said, mouth open in surprise.

"This time? This time? You've had a girls eyes shine gold before?" Aziraphale asked, trying to ignore the way his heart ramped up at the news. Crowley felt it too, it wasn't all him.

"And by the sound of it, you have too."

"Yes, I have. But only thrice before, 55BC, 13-"

"-77 and 1601."

Aziraphale's blue eyes widened and he stared at Crowley in shock, "I- I, how did you know?"

"Same for me, Angel. Same for me."

"So she's connected then, to the both of us." Aziraphale said slowly, trying to work it all out in his head. Crowley nodded, pursing his lips and making a 'tsk' noise under his breath.

"She's looked different each time. I don't think she's an Angel or a demon," Crowley said, ripping off a small piece of the bread she gave him and tossing it into the water. No, it wasn't good for them but who cares at this point. They were eternally connected to something.

"No, I think you're quite right. She's something else entirely. I'll have to do some research, I'll let you know if I have anything of note."

Crowley swallows, "same 'ere."

"Okay. Well then, good afternoon to you," Aziraphale tipped his hat and wandered off back to his book shop, his head completely filled with ideas of shapeshifters and witches, all sorts of creatures.

Current Day—————

Crowley parked the Bentley outside Aziraphale's shop, the wheel a slight tap before getting out. It was cold today, and he saw dozens of people shuffling into Nina's shop for some warmth. He himself was freezing but he knew even slightly suggesting to Aziraphale would earn him some pampering, blanket tucked in, hot chocolate, and near undivided angelic attention. Normally he didn't like asking for it, but it's been a weird few years with the Armageddon't, and he could use some pampering.

He felt a pang in his chest, a strange sort of pull he didn't know what to do with. What did humans do when their hearts hurt? Then it struck him - he wasn't human. Why would his heart be hurting?

"Oi, you doing okay?" A voice said from the pavement outside Aziraphale's shop. Crowley looked up, surprised to see Nina with a bag full of ingredients.

"What're you doing out

She held up the bag with a raised brow, as though he was stupid to just suggest it, "you're alright then?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. But you haven't got other staff and the place's full."

"Oh, yeah, forgot you didn't know about that." Nina said dryly. "I hired a new barista. Name's Y/N. New to town."

There it was, that pull dragging him towards her shop. He couldn't explain, tried to rack his brain as to what would want him in there. He glanced back through the windows, trying to see if anything was amiss.

Each instance with her seemed to last for a second, barely enough to know if it was the truth or a trick of the light. But Crowley had lived long enough on enough stupid planets to know that when he saw something that wasn't typically there, it wasn't a figment of his imagination. He swallowed, trying to betray anything to Nina.

"Right. Well then, better get back to it," he said, moving past her shoving his way into Aziraphale's bookshop.

"Oh Crowley, wonderful you're here-"

"Yes, yes, I'm wonderful, you're wonderful, the world's bloody wonderful. Angel, do you remember in 1865 when we saw her in St James's Park?"

There wasn't a need to clarify who the 'her' was. Aziraphale straightened, removing his spectacles from his nose. "Yes, I do."

"And you remember when you said you'd research it and report back, but never did?"

"Yes, I do. Crowley-"

"I need that research now, Angel." Crowley said quickly, not letting Aziraphale ask more pointless questions.

"Nothing came of it, dear, that's why I'd never told you. We would have sensed if she was a witch, angel, demon, or anything other supernatural. We have those senses."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Crowley, what happened? What did you see?"

"She's here."

Aziraphale's eyebrows shot up and he placed a surprise hand on his chest, not quite knowing what to do with that information. "Here?!"

"In London. In the coffee shop, in Nina's coffee shop. I - I saw her. There was a golden thread between us. I know it's her, Angel. She looks different but she has every time. It's her."

"You saw a golden thread?"

"Yes."

Aziraphale put his spectacles back on, heading for one of his bookshelves towards the back of the shop, "are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, Angel, I'm bloody positive."

"A Golden thread has never shown up before. The previous times were all the, err, the eyes. This means something." Aziraphale said, gathering the dusty book from his shelf and depositing it on his desk with a thud. "In Greek mythology the golden thread was your life line. Your life thread so to speak. Fate, destiny, the whole nine yards."

"Yes, Angel, but the Greeks were wrong and that's how we exist so what does it mean for us?" Crowley grabbed a chair and fell into it, placing a frustrated hand on his temple.

Aziraphale thumbed through pages until he found what he was looking for. He read the words, but it only helped to scrunch his brow. "This doesn't make any sense. The threads only have two colors, two avenues."

"What do the threads mean, Angel?" His tone pained in frustration. This girl was scaring him, and he couldn't explain why. As far as he knew she presented no threat to him. And yet all the same, he feared her. He wasn't a fan of the unknown. Everything had been so planned out for so long, even though he didn't like the idea of the world ending it was a plan nonetheless.

"It says here that white thread is for eternal blessings. Saints and what not. Black thread for eternal damnation. But it only exists on a human while they are alive."

"Wot? I don't see black threads on people, d'you see white threads?"

Aziraphale adjusted his spectacles, "it says here they only appear if an Angel, or in your case, dearest, a demon, specifically bless them. Or, err, curse them."

"Still, you'd think 6,000 years and I woulda seen something."

Aziraphale nodded in agreement, "I've not seen any either."

"Wait, how'd you know about all this then?" Crowley waved a hand vaguely in between Aziraphale and the book.

Aziraphale looked confused for a moment, "all this? Oh, ah, you mean how I've come to know about the threads? Well it is to my understanding that this was brought up by Michael -"

"Head honcho Michael?" Crowley asked.

"Yes, though I wouldn't use such human terms myself. Michael had thought it up around 100BC. Thought it would be a fun way of identifying humans. But the upstairs didn't fancy the idea, She dispelled it not too long after."

"Hmm... never woulda pictured that out of Michael."

"Well, they say you never really know someone." Aziraphale replied, looking back over the pages as Crowley began to ramble.

"Always thought that applied to killers. No one ever says that 'bout the good deeds, they only say it after you've hurt someone. If someone's killed a kid, everyone's all up in arms like 'you never really knew 'em.' But if someone's a paramedic no one's like 'you never really know-'"

Aziraphale felt his jaw drop open as the words at the bottom of the page finally clicked. Part of the reason Michael's plan never worked, at least according to Gabriel, was that the wording was too specific. "No one uses 'eternally' in their everyday vocabulary," he had argued. Back then Aziraphale had quite agreed with Gabriel, but everyone agreed with Gabriel if it meant shutting Michael up. But he remembered a time not long before the thread idea was vanished when he had used the word 'eternally' in conversation. He reread to be sure, then piped up over Crowley's random complaining, "C-Crowley... do you remember what you said to her in 55BC?"

Crowley's face scrunched as he tried to think all the way back. "I, uh, tripped her. On accident, then she called me an asshole and I-I damned her for eternity I think."

"Oh dear."

"What does this 'oh dear' me? Angel?" When Aziraphale didn't say anything Crowley got up, stalking over to him quickly. "What did you see?"

"I blessed her for eternity."

"So? What's that mean?"

"I-I think, and I could be very very wrong, however I think that means we've, err, we've trapped her soul in an endless strain between Heaven and Hell."

"No, no, no, no," Crowley started to say, unconsciously pacing as he tried to unravel it all in his head. "That doesn't make any sense. Her thread is gold, white and black don't make gold. It makes grey, she should be grey!"

"I think the color of her thread is far from our biggest issue, Crowley."

"So, so what? She's trapped to us?"

Aziraphale ran a hand down his face, trying to process. "I- she might be."

"But her body's changed each time. It's not the same woman."

"Ah, but her eyes. They've stayed the same. You know as well as I do they're the same."

Crowley stopped, knowing he didn't have grounds to argue. Aziraphale was right, after all. Then he groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Fucking hell-"

"Language," Aziraphale said with pursed lips.

"Wot? For the fucking or the hell part?" Crowley snapped, then upon seeing Aziraphale's dropped expression he immediately retracted. "I'm sorry. That was rude. You're not getting the stupid dance though. Angel, she's not immortal. Her soul is. She must just keep being, being reborn. But the soul from 55BC is still the same."

"That would make sense," Aziraphale said. "They do say the eyes are the window into the soul. Perhaps that explains why they remain while the rest of her can change."

"Yeah, yeah. It makes sense, don't it?"

"So we've accidentally trapped a human soul to Earth to live and die for eternity?"

"Yeah, yeah," Crowley sniffed. "Think we did, Angel."

There was a quiet pause as the two reflected on what they just realized. They, unwittingly, had created an immortal creature. She doesn't even know she's immortal, and by the past experience it sounds as if her mind is wiped with each death. But her soul lives on.

"Fuck," Aziraphale said quietly.

Crowley looked up sharply, "wot'd you say?"

"I said fuck." He repeated, with more confidence this time around.

On any normal circumstance, Crowley would laugh and cherish the moment he saw Aziraphale curse - and with fuck of all of them - but he couldn't help but think Aziraphale was right. Fuck, indeed.

"What do we do?" Crowley asked.

"We have to tell her."

"We do? Why's that? What d'ya think we're gonna say? Hi random stranger I'm a demon he's an Angel and your soul is stuck, here have a cuppa."

"Well that would be straightforward -"

"Sarcasm, Angel. You've been here for thousands of years and you still don't process sarcasm."

Aziraphale stood up and went over to Crowley, touching his shoulders so he'd look up to him. "I understand that this is difficult. This is, it's entirely unprecedented territory. But she deserves the truth." He leaned in, his voice but a whisper. "It does help that we both feel a pull to her. Once we see her, it hurts to no interact. Perhaps we can find a way to end this, to help her."

Crowley swallowed, looking away from Aziraphale's bright blue eyes. He smelled of vanilla and old books, a scent Crowley would bottle up and spray all over his stupid, cold flat if he could. Maybe this girl could help, maybe she was good. But they first needed to meet her.

"Alright. Fine. Let's go, now," Crowley said, sliding his sunglasses back on. Aziraphale nodded and retrieved his coat.

The pair walked out of the bookshop, locking up, and swiftly walked cross the street. They hesitated outside the door, neither knowing what to do. A flash of a blue apron in the window caught their attention, and then a golden thread, shining in the light, emerged and wrapped round the owners waist.

"You seeing that, Angel?"

"Y-yes, I am. It's not faded."

It didn't. It sparkled and swayed in the air, moving with the owners body as she walked around in the shop.

"On three," Aziraphale said. Crowley grumbled in agreement. "One, two ... three."

They opened the doors and were almost immediately greeted by a sweet smile and kind eyes. The same eyes they'd seen for hundreds of years. She smiled, tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

"Hi guys, welcome in! Feel free to take a seat wherever you like, I'll be with you in a moment."

"O-okay," Aziraphale said, his voice wispy in the confusion and whirlwind that was her. But she was entirely unaware, blissfully living in her own world that she didn't know was about to be ruined.

They sat in a far corner, away from any windows. Crowley sprawled in the seat, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale. Aziraphale sat stiff as a bored, left leg bouncing so furiously the table itself started to shake.

"Right, what can I get you lads?" She seemed to appear out of nowhere, shining golden thread wrapped round her sweet waist right where the apron was tied.

Aziraphale spoke first, not looking her in the eye but instead staring out the window. An uncharacteristically rude action on his part. "Oh, um, just a latte please. With 3 shots of vanilla."

"Ooo, yum. And for you, the one with the glasses?" She asked, her voice light.

Crowley thought for a moment. Better bite the bullet, eh? He turned, took his sunglasses off, and looked her in the eyes. "Espresso, darling."

Her eyes had a golden flash and she seemed to jump, her pad falling to the table in her shock. She looked between Aziraphale and Crowley with wide eyes, hands going to her stomach as she took deep breaths. "Aziraphale. Your name is Aziraphale," she said to him. Eyes wide. She turned to the demon. "You're Crowley."

"Yes, dear, we are."

"Why do I know that?" Her voice was shaky and yet she stayed, not angry or scared that she knew unknowable information.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance. Crowley sighed, flicking his hand. Time around them stopped. Customers held their mugs up in the air, Nina mid pouring a cup, and a man getting ready to ask for the most ridiculous drink he could think of. All were trapped in this moment except for her, Aziraphale and Crowley.

She jumped, looking around with wide eyes, "h-how'd you do that? Why did you do that?"

"Please, take a seat dear," Aziraphale said, snapping as a plush chair appeared behind her. She tripped into it, her body language stuff and frightened.

"This is all feeling like a very strange dream, and I don't like it," she said, taking deep breaths to try and clear her mind. "Did you just stop time and if so, how the hell did you? And you just miraculously created a chair? And why do I know who the hell you are?"

"Dearest, it's not a dream, I'm afraid. You have met us before. You've met us multiple times before," Aziraphale took a breath. "I-I'm afraid we have some complicated news."

"Tell me who the hell you are!" She was getting scared, her heart fighting against her rib cage. She wanted to get up, she wanted to run away, put her hands over her ears and scream 'la la la' over and over until they left her alone. But she didn't. It wasn't a physical thing, even though these familiar strangers had put her in a terrifying position she knew they'd let her go. It was her soul that kept her trapped. "Who are you? I need to know. Who are you really?"

Aziraphale placed a warm hand on her own. His was large, soft and yet strong. She liked the feeling of his hands as he held one of hers, looking into her eyes. "My name is Aziraphale. I am an Angel of God. I was the Guardian of the East Gate at the Garden of Eden, but now I am on Earth. I perform miracles and I run a bookshop, with my dearest friend."

His eyes glanced over to the other man. He was handsome, tanned skin with fiery red hair slicked up and back over his head. Aziraphale might have called him a friend, but she wasn't stupid enough to believe that. It was more than that, maybe they didn't know it but she definitely did.

Another hand grasped hers, this one lean and long. He grasped her hand with a soft intensity she didn't know possible. "My name's Crowley. I'm a demon, you'd know me cause I was a, uh, let's call me a reptile."

She blinked rapidly, "you were the snake that tempted Eve?"

"Wow, she's a quick one," Crowley smiled widely.

"Wasn't he cursed to only use his belly?"

Crowley rolled his eyes, "it's complicated."

"You, both, are not human. You're an Angel and you're a demon. So Christianity is right."

"Yes, love. But God is actually a She, that bit got muddled," Aziraphale smiled. "Are you feeling better?"

"That doesn't explain, why- why do I know you? I recognize both of you, but I don't know why. Then you made that comment about having met me multiple times, for years, what does that mean?" She was getting a little riled but she tried to stay calm. This wasn't going to make any more sense by screaming at a literal demon. And Angel, but the demon was more infuriating at the moment. He stared at her with a mix of awe and shock, and she didn't want to think about any of it.

Aziraphale sighed, "before the current era, you know Roman times and what not, the Archangel Michael played with the idea of threads. It was similar in concept to the Greek idea of fate -"

"You happened to be alive when this was a thing. It means when a demon curses you and says the word 'eternally' a black thread'll appear to let everyone know you're damned forever. White thread with angels."

"I'm damned forever? Wait, you said Roman times - I was alive during the ancient roman era?"

"Well, darling, he blessed you and I cursed you at the same day. Meaning your soul is trapped with both Heaven and Hell," Crowley said softly. "We think your soul has been reincarnated since about 55BC. And it's because of us. This Golden shit you see is our connection."

"But white and black make grey?"

Crowley clapped and said "aha! She gets it!"

"Crowley," Aziraphale said, though his eyes were light with amusement. "We can't explain the color of the thread. But we believe it means you're connected to us. Both of us, we get this pull to you when you're around. As though we have to see you."

There was a moment of silence as they let her collect her thoughts. Unconsciously, she'd curled up into a ball on the comfy chair Aziraphale had miracled. She thought and thought, rolling over the idea that she's trapped here on earth. An accidental immortal being tied to these two.

She glanced at Aziraphale. She knew him, she has known him. She bit her lip, wishing to understand everything as it was.

"M-May I?" She asked, tentatively lifting a hand near his face. She needed to touch him, to feel him, to try and remember.

The Angel nodded. He was soft, his hair light and white, in short curls on top of his head. She liked the curls, they looked rather fetching on him. Her fingertips brushed lightly down his face, feeling his kind face. She liked his lips, they were pink and couldn't fight a smile. Then she glanced down and saw his hand in his lap. Running an hand down his shoulder to his hand, she lifted it and eyed the golden ring.

"Aziraphale..." she murmured. It all started to fall into place. The dancing, the food, the wine. He'd looked so out of place in pale clothing, so obviously finer than anyone else's. He'd tried to blend in with an outdated style, to balance the richness, but she could spot him through the crowd with ease. His cheeks had gotten pink, and he'd gone for a drink. She hadn't meant to spill on him, she just wanted a chat. "I gave you this ring. You didn't want it at first, but I gave it to you. It says Aziraphale on it."

He took a shaky breath, his eyes becoming glassy with tears. His lips trembled as he said, "you did."

Aziraphale slid the ring off his finger, turning it so she could see the inside. There enough his name was scrawled in haphazard writing. It had faded from the years, some of the details lost to time. But she remembered this ring when it was new. When William had gotten it in his shop and didn't know what to make of it. And she'd taken it, knew it would be special.

She pressed a soft kiss to the ring, then slid it back on Aziraphale's finger. She looked him in the eyes as she kissed the back of his hand, "I remember you."

The tears had actually fallen now, hitting his cheeks softly. He didn't try to hide it, and she wouldn't want him to. Perhaps it was this whole eternal blessing thing, but she was drawn to him.

Then she turned to the demon. Crowley. He sat high and mighty in his chair, looking away as though he were intruding on Aziraphale's private moment. He was handsome in a different way than Aziraphale. Where Aziraphale was soft and strong, Crowley was sharp and sweet. She smiled when she looked at him, knowing he was sweet without saying it.

She went to him to, lifting her hand then asking softly, "may I touch you?"

He swallowed, and nodded. She first touched his hair, it was softer then it looked. Her fingertips brushed it so it feel on his forehead, liking the contrast of his skin against the red. Then she traced along his tattoo, the way his cheekbone felt under her touch.

With gentle hands, she cupped his cheeks and turned his face so he had to look her in the eyes. She smiled. "I'd wondered if they were still yellow."

He closed his eyes, cringing. He'd always hated his eyes. "Sorry they're-"

"Beautiful." He opened his eyes quickly. "I remember your eyes. They've been in my dreams and I never knew why. The man with the yellow snake eyes. They are so, so beautiful. Like a sunflower."

"You're comparing s'demon eyes to a sunflower?"

She smiled and nodded, "you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

Crowley sucked in a breath, closing his eyes. It as though the attention itself would make him implode.

"Keep them closed," she said. Then he felt a pair of soft lips kiss one eyelid, then the other. "Absolutely beautiful. Don't you think so, Aziraphale?"

Crowley was shocked to hear Aziraphale agree. "I adore your eyes, dear. They've been my favorite for a long time."

The three didn't know what to do with themselves, time frozen around them. But however strange the situation, she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. She wanted to get to know this Angel and demon, understand their pasts and more about their connection.

“Thank you, my dear, for your patience,” Aziraphale said kindly.

“I suppose I should be thanking you, you’ve waited hundreds of years.” She said with a dry laugh that made Crowley smile.

There weren’t any words that seemed to describe the moment the three of them shared, in a moment frozen in time knowing they had all the time in the world. But for now it was enough, and that was all it needed to be.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #fluff #soulmate au #good omens fanfiction #good omens x reader #kind of on accident #didn’t think I cared about it until now and I still don’t but I’m proud of this fic #god it’s long please read #historical shit #Aziraphale x Crowley x reader #Aziraphale x Crowley #12k words #my sanity is gone #don’t even care that much about a reader insert with them but I’m here #so enjoy

[mizusnose]

Valentine’s Day with the Smith’s

An early valentine’s day post about my beloved Mrs. and Mrs. Smith HCs. Enjoy 💓

———

Under the guise of a romantic valentine’s day date, you and Mizu are guided onto the rooftop of a fancy italian restaurant to have a stake out of the table nearby. The sky is an open endless reflection of the city beneath, a sparkling bowl of ink, one that matches the spill of hair on the soft pale of Mizu’s shoulders.

Her shoulders are out, the dip of her back framed by the sparkly red dress that reaches the floor, a slit up the side of her thigh, revealing unending skin that stretches and moves with each step up towards the rooftop.

We should probably order appetizers, Mizu muses, once you’re both seated. She eyes you, closing the menu and gesturing for a waiter to come over.

You try not to focus on the line of muscle that works up to her shoulders when she turns to order. There’s a line of her ribs that are exposed too when she hands the menus over. Her eyes a frozen-over lake as she gazes at you and says: and my wife’ll have the sangria, thanks.

“Wife” You think, and accidentally cough on nothing at all. Mizu chuckles and the night commences.

Your targets are in the corner of the roof, a young couple that would look otherwise completely normal had it not been for the mission you’ve both been assigned.

“So, we just wait here? No drop-off, no hand-off?” You tinker with the wine glass, the stem of it firmly gripped by your fingertips: the same place Mizu has her own. Her palms encompass more of it though. Your gut kicks at the sight.

“Guess so. Not much info. Just wait” Mizu has ordered something lighter than your own sangria. It sparkles and fizzles in the moonlight and accompanying golden lights lining the rooftop. The color is golden, translucent, and it touches Mizu’s red lips softly and you wonder what her mouth will taste like after she’s finished her wine. A sweet ripened mandarin? A bitter splutter of raspberry? You wonder and wonder and—

“Your appetizers.” The waiter sets down something much too small for you both. A sparkle of oysters laid out on ice and decorated with some…leaves? Your life before now was far from glamorous, so you poke at it with your fork, confused.

“Like this.” Mizu interrupts, she’s chuckling and covering her mouth. The line of her eyes dark with the eyeliner she’s applied tonight. Her eyes bright and eager, “You’ve gotta like, well, slurp it.”

And Mizu, ever the perfect teacher, puts the clamshell to her lips, the same place her wine glass was and slurps.

You think your soul leaves your body.

“You can try. Though, if you’ve never had it before, might not enjoy it too much.”

You nod, dazed and amazed at Mizu across from you. You both have strayed away from your lives before now. Content with having lazy morning sex in the shower and fucking Mizu on the kitchen countertop when she walks around naked and pretty and tall.

You don’t know the first thing about her, and yet, she’s predictably smug when you cough around the oyster. She teases and brushes her heeled foot against yours under the table.

You smile, and she returns it, shy beneath the curtain of hair she’s let down for tonight. Usually it’s tied up into a tight bun, a single curl brushing her sharp cheekbones. You adore her in either way, but you think it’s rare to see her like this: laid down, spilling with beauty, and sparkling in the night.

The night passes quickly like this. Jokes and banter and easy flirting that turns into Mizu revealing bits of herself you probably wouldn’t have known otherwise.

“Yeah, and I can speak Japanese but kanji is too difficult now. Can’t quite..understand it.”

She’s shy when she smiles around her glass of wine. She eyes you across the table, a wide plane of tablecloth separating you both. You nod, and lean in closer,

“Do you know any bad words?” You grin, pleased when Mizu rolls her eyes and pushes you away, “Nothing awful! Just curious.”

“I don’t curse too often.”

“Sure you do.” You speak lower, get closer and keep eye contact, “Your dirty mouth in the mornings, in the shower, in the kitchen this morning when I ate you—“

“I don’t—!” Mizu is red. The wine had already allowed a blush to crawl of her neck and to smother her ears until now. Yet, her whole face blooms under your gaze, your words, your leg against her, “I don’t curse in Japanese. Not without sounding like a gangster, i mean.”

You hum and let Mizu change the topic, her face calming to the shade of ripened peaches, soft and fuzzy and warm.

The couple leaves and you both pay the bill before hurrying out behind them. Your hasty following turns into a stroll around central park, the night a hazy turn of lights and shadows. A tree blocks the sight of your couple and they don’t mind too much.

“Maybe this is just a set-up.” You wonder, aloud.

“What, like an ambush?” Mizu pulls her blood red dress aside and shows the gun strapped to her upper thigh.

Your mouth dries and your jaw goes numb, dropping open slowly.

“No. I meant—like, maybe this is supposed to be a date? We’re wives after all. Maybe they want us to, you know, act more like it?”

Mizu shrugs, clearly confused. You grab her hand, intertwine your hands together and push through the grass lining the path they’re on.

“Wait—where are we—!”

And then you’re both under the dark of a large tree. The leaves shudder at your arrival and dance in the wind. You put your finger to your mouth and motion to hush. Mizu listens, giggling softly.

“You know, you’re very pretty tonight.”

“Just tonight?” Mizu quirks a dark eyebrow up, challenging and teasing.

“Every night. Every morning. All the time.”

Mizu looks at you, through the darkness and the shadows. A streak of moonlight falls on her face and you say before you can truly think it through:

“You’re hot too. The last mission, your face was covered in blood and—“

“You’re such a perv.” Mizu jokes, but the way her smile lingers on her face makes you continue.

“And your legs tonight, your thighs.” Your palms fall on her hip, drag down to her thigh, the inner part of it, “I want to..do so many things to you.”

“Then do them.”

You kiss under the dark. The clouds cover the moonlight and you’re both drifting together in the sea of darkness. The trains have stopped running by the time you’re done making out. The ride home is tense and by the time you’re both home, you take Mizu apart: piece by piece, scream and yells alongside her incessant begging.

You think it’s funny when Mizu wakes you up with a small simple note:

Mission Completed!

———

Anyways, I love them a lot and i even sprinkled in some sub mizu so hope you enjoyed :)

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x fem!reader #headcanons #fanfiction

[aziraphales-library]

Hello dear mods!! This is kind of a random, oddly specific ask but do you have any fics where one of our lovely Ineffable Husbands uses really cheesy pickup lines?

I’m a sucker for cheesy pickup lines, and I’ve come across one or two in the wilds of ao3 and they were hilarious and adorable.

Human au/other aus or just regular Angel and Demon are perfectly fine!! Thank you!! <3

Hey! Here are some fics with pick up lines for you...

If I told you you had a nice body, would you hold it against me? by involuntaryorange (T)

After several months of mounting frustration, Crowley turns to the internet. Humans seem to have figured out relationships, he reasons; or, at least, they’ve figured out how to get into them, and that’s the part he needs help with. An hour of googling and two rather nice bottles of pinot noir later, he has a plan. a.k.a. the one where Crowley decides to try out some pick-up lines.

Did it hurt? by madlysanecatlady (T)

An exercise in shitty pickup lines.

do him! by orphan_account (T)

Crowley is an astronomer who does a side gig as a stand-up comedian on Fridays. One Friday he sets out to introduce a new segment to his routine, a bit where he makes fun of the audience's expense. Though when he's asked to make fun of a gorgeous man, he says something brash and regrets it, and then later goes to introduce himself and apologize to the kind man. - “Hello there!” Crowley said, chastising himself for being too loud when the man jumped. “Oh, hello. Er, may I help you?” The man said. “Uh, yeah. I’m Crowley.” He said, reaching his hand out to shake. “Aziraphale,” the man said, taking it. “I just wanted to apologize for making that joke, it was wrong of me to cross a boundary like that. I was simply caught in the moment and I thought you looked pretty. I didn’t mean to make you so uncomfortable that you had to run out.” Crowley said.

Wingman by writeonclara (T)

“Do you understand what will happen to you if you don’t smash your demon buddy? And since you’re”—Gabriel paused to search for the proper adjective to encompass all of Aziraphale’s Aziraphaleness, then settled on—“you, God commanded me to help you. And buddy, you need all the help you can get.” Or: Gabriel’s assigned to be wingman for Aziraphale to keep him from Falling. He’s about as good at it as you’d imagine.

The Pumpkin Patch by AppleSeeds (T)

Aziraphale visits a pumpkin patch and meets Crowley, a farmer with a fondness for cheesy seasonal pick-up lines. After a while, he starts to get the impression that Crowley might actually be flirting with him, and tries to work up the courage to reciprocate.

The Steps to Courting an Angel by ReginaPapilio (G)

Crowley entrusts his love life to a "Love Guide" upon finding it in Aziraphale's bookshop. Now he just needs to follow it until the angel is finally his, but things don't go his way that easily.

One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) by Atalan (E)

"All right, I know I'm going to regret asking this," Aziraphale says. "What exactly does this wager entail?" Crowley grins like the cat that not only got the cream but has absconded with the entire cow. He grabs the bottle and swigs straight from it despite Aziraphale's tut of disapproval.  "The pot goes to whichever demon can get an angel into bed by the end of the evening."  AKA The Fic That Tumblr Made Me Write. Heaven and Hell share a corporate party once per millennium. This time someone's had the bright idea of issuing a challenge to the demons of Hell. Crowley has no intention of missing the opportunity; Aziraphale's just enough of a bastard to make him work for it.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #flirting #pick up lines #getting together #mod d #humour

[euaphora]

Toji absolutely loves food.

If you guys ever go out on a date, 99.99% of the time it’s always going to be a restaurant. Sure he’ll let you pick other places to go out instead of just eating, but whenever he gets to pick date night, he always chooses the best of the best seafood, taking you by the shore and enjoy the ocean.

“Mhm should we try the new special this time? Suguru told me he came here with Gojo and it..melts in your mouth?” He suggests while holding onto your forearm while he uses his other hand to open the door for you.

As soon as you step inside, the place smelled like the the ocean, obviously. you point out the open kitchen the restaurant had, “look, they are doing the special you were talking about, it looks so yummy!”

“We can get the special and definitely order some more after we finish, how does that sound, sweetheart?” He asks, looking down at you while the waiter brings you to your reserved private room away from everyone else.

Toji hated when people would watch him eat, he ate with his mouth full and sause all over his face, like a baby when it’s spaghetti night, you never judged him because you did the same.

It’s one thing you both shared and laughed about all the time when you would walk back to the car, chocolate fudge cake in hand, cake all over your hands.

The waiter gave you both a menu while watching toji pulling the chair out of the marble table and letting you sit down, “are we ready to order, or do we still need more time?” She asked, notepad in hand with a pen on the other.

“We are not ready actually but we’ll both have some of the red wine we drank last time please, leave the bottle.” He told her, not looking up from the other specials there were tonight.

She nods and leaves you two to be, closing the door on her way out. You loved how peaceful it was, calm background music playing in the back. There was a small fountain in the corner of the room that made pretty sounds when it would fall.

“So, we just a little bit of everything? I haven’t had seafood in a couple months.” He jokes, knowing damn well you both ate some 4 weeks ago when he came home from a long day of work. He was too tired to go out to eat so he just order takeout, you had to feed him while his dead looking body rested on the couch.

He remembers you bathing him afterwards and changing him, “thank you sweetheart, ‘always taking care of me when I need you.” It was one way you both like sharing you love, his love language was a little bit of everything which caught your attention the first time he met you.

“Oooh, actually sounds pretty promising. We could get that but can we also get some of those stuffed dumplings? Pretty please?” You ask, hands clamped together with your lips in a pout manner. He chuckles at that, “of course, just leave some for me, I’ll get the extra large ones.”

After finsishing up, he pays the bill and you both head out with three to-go boxes. “Should we leave a box for megumi and his friends? I know sukana and nobora like these,” you montion to the box filled with oysters and catfish.

“You know I love you but I don’t see how you like those? There so slimy and gooey..” he says, referring to the box you had in your hands. He takes them away from you and sets them in the backseat. “But yes, let’s leave these off to megumi, that boy hardly eats!”

#euaphora #i love jjk men! #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jujutsu toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x you #jjk fluff #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro smut #dilf toji #jjk toji #toji smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk megumi #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi x you #jujutsu megumi #megumi imagine #jjk sukuna #jujutsu itadori #itadori x reader #itadori fluff #jjk fushiguro #jjk geto #jjk gojo

[popatochisssp]

So um I saw the ask about the adopted sibling, so I wanted to ask for the new boys plus love your headcanons

This one, right?

Phew it's been awhile, here goes...

Ash (Undergloom Sans): He’s the absolute best to chill with, whenever you need a calm moment with no expectations on you. He loves talking music with you too, and always keeps his non-existent ears open for stuff he thinks he you might like so he can share it with you later. Be prepared for him to try to convert you to the physical media lifestyle if you’re not already into it, CDs and records and cassettes are the way to go, kiddo!

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): You know the joke about grandmas who hear you haven’t eaten and drop everything to rush over and feed you? Well, it’s not really a joke, it’s him, he’ll do it. Not having a home-cooked meal is not an option if he has anything to say about it. Any mention of being hungry or not knowing what you’re going to do for dinner is basically a guarantee that he’s going to be coming by to check on you—either with leftovers in tow, or plans to push past you into your kitchen and get to work.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Do you get cold easily? Do you like knitwear? Are you in need of any sweaters or scarves or hats or gloves? Your answer is irrelevant, you’re going to get them, in spades. You also get to share basically anything he’s eating at any time, if you happen to be around, you will get offered a bite or a piece or a sip, whether you ask or not. The sooner you accept your fate, the better.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Problems disappear for you. You might not put it together that it’s his doing because he doesn’t go out of his way to draw attention to it, but once you’re in his life, your life starts to feel a bit more charmed. Your stuff hardly ever breaks, you always have what you need when you need it, people are nice to you—and if they’re not, they don’t seem to stay in your orbit long enough for it to matter. He’s a facilitator, and what he wants to facilitate for you is an easy, uncomplicated life. (Just don’t call him on it unless you want to be the annoying little sibling. He is not nice! How dare you imply otherwise... Brat.)

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): He’s a great sounding board for when you don’t know what to do. He doesn’t give advice, per se, but he’s a calm and patient listener, and he has a real knack for guiding you to realize what you want or need. He’s also an open invitation to absolutely anything he’s doing, whether that’s baking or yoga or watching a show. You’re always welcome to join if you want something to do!

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): He’s your tech-bro, the guy you bring your stuff to before having to call a professional. He’ll give you a bit of shit for 'breaking' it, what’d you do, what kind of weird sites were you on, huh? But in spite of his grumping, he always does his best to fix your problem and set you up for success later. Just show a little gratitude, pay him in chocolate, or coffee, or watching that horror movie with him that no one else wants to, yeah?

Pitch (Horrrorswapfell Sans): He’s the one you want if you’re looking for a fun time. All that stuff you need to get permission for or no one ever let you do because you’re too young or inexperienced? He’s the one to make it happen—you’ve gotta get the experience somehow, don’t you? He can get you into parties, movies, whatever you want to do, really. He’s definitely gonna be the one to take you for your first tattoo, first piercing, first drink (provided you want any of those, of course)… You only live once and there’s no better time to start than when you’re young and the world is your oyster!

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): What’s his is yours. If there’s something he has that you like or want for yourself, go ahead, take it , he doesn’t need it—or if he does, he can get a new one. Clothes, trinkets, food, essentials, if he has it you can help yourself to it, no questions asked. The only thing he cares about is that you're happy and taken care of.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): Do you need a ride? Will you need a ride? When will you need a ride? He’s there whenever, any time night or day if you gotta get somewhere and don’t want to (or can’t) drive. But hey, if you want to learn how to drive, he’d love to teach you! He’s chill and easygoing so he’s probably the least likely to stress you out while you’re learning…and if you do manage to ding his bumper or scrape the curb a little, hey, it happens, that’s why you’re practicing, y’know?

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): Documentarian of all your special moments, taking pictures of, for, and with you, recording videos, saving any and all physical scraps of paper with your name or accomplishments listed on them that he can get his hands on. He’s proud of you and all the things you do, of course there ought to be a record of it all—for posterity! …And for him. …And for you, in case you ever forget any of the cool things you’ve done!

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): He’s just kind of always around. Usually as a hooded figure lurking in the distance, but occasionally falling into step with you when you’re walking somewhere alone, or sliding into the seat beside you on public transit. He’s not always much for conversation but he likes being around if you need him, or at least keeping you from being all the way alone.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): A near-constant source of messages and appearances throughout your day. He’s always happy to entertain you if you want someone to talk to, but especially if you happen to be bored (the horror!). He’s got a knack for knowing when you need a diversion or an amusement and he’s sure to pop up on one screen or another to give it to you when you need him the most.

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): He loves to shower you in presents pretty much whenever he sees you. Never anything expensive or even necessary, mostly just bizarre little tchotchkes—bracelets, pendants, bobbles and baubles—seemingly random items that ‘had your vibe’ or felt like they’d be ‘on your wavelength.’ Annoyingly enough, he’s never wrong, no matter how weird the gift, it’s always right up your alley and he loves bringing a smile to your face with his random finds.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): If you didn’t want to have your own personal stylist…well sorry, maybe you shouldn’t have gotten adopted by proxy by somebody who wants you to look and feel your best, I guess? He likes to take you shopping for things and offer his advice and opinions, and if you’ll let him, maybe steer you towards a few things here and there that you wouldn’t have thought to try. Don’t worry about the cost of anything, if there’s a deal to be had, he’ll get it one way or another…

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): The best wingman ever, he’s always down to be there for you when you need a little confidence boost, too shy or nervous to do something all by yourself. If you need a hype up before asking someone out, somebody to go to XYZ with so you’re not the odd one out, even just somebody to go see a movie with, the answer’s always the same—sounds great, what time? He’ll never let you down and never leave you hanging.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): He's like having a bodyguard whenever you need one. And really, who wouldn’t want to have a big tough guy willing to follow them around and do whatever they want him to do? He’s great at that, being a strong silent presence for you whether you need a little intimidation or just someone to get something off a high shelf for you—y’know, typical scary tall guy stuff. But if you’re looking for some quiet quality time, he’s good for that too, happy to parallel play anytime!

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): He’s good at keeping you on track and making sure all your important documents are in order. He knows your schedule almost down to the minute and tends to text you about anything that might interrupt your routine before it becomes a problem, and you don’t even have to ask him to take a look at your financials or help you with taxes—he’s already combed through the figures and pounced on every little discrepancy and rounding error he could find. You’re welcome, by the way.

Hunter (Swapfell Fruition Papyrus): You don’t get out enough. You’re coming out with him. Yes, outside. No, you don’t have a choice, he’ll drag you if you don’t go willingly, being inside 24/7 is terrible for you he would know. Don’t worry, it won’t be so bad, he can probably find you something cool to see, some animal tracks or a neat plant, maybe a stream. He’ll make sure you get back home in one piece and everything too, alive even, maybe. He just wants to share a little time and fresh air with you, and being cooped up indoors all the time is no fun, even if you’re used to it.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): He…hassles you. He sneaks up on you when your guard is down, shows up in unexpected places to spook you, makes jokes at your expense… It’s nothing worse than teasing, really, and compared to how he is with most everyone else, his pestering tends to read as playful more than anything else. Still, if you’re looking for a sweet, helpful big brother…look elsewhere. He’s the bastard big brother that you’ve begrudgingly grown fond of, and you’re the irritating little sib that he’s forced to admit is growing on him, a little…much like a fungus might.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): He calls at least once a day if he doesn’t see you, and sometimes even then. He’s always trying to check in on you to see if you need anything, make sure you’re doing alright, and oh, of course if you’d like to do anything today, or maybe later in the week? It may be a little a lot overeager of him, but he cares about you and doesn’t ever want to lose touch! So please text him back so he knows you got home safe, he’ll worry if you’re radio silent too long!

#undertale #headcanons #anonymous #i have too many aus i can't tag them all individually anymore #undergloom #horrorfell #horrorswap #horrorswapfell #gastertale #transcendtale #ascendswap #descendtale #underfell fruition #swapfell fruition

[cameronspecial]

Before The Last Petal Falls (Part 4)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Substance and Alcohol Use, Talk about Addiction, Swearing and Toxic Relationship Signs.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.1K

Summary: Y/N takes the first steps to move on and she finds Rafe in a compromising position.

Masterlist

The Outer Banks isn’t famous for their food selection, so Y/N decides to take Cole to The Wreck. “This place doesn’t look like much, but a family friend owns the place so it’s good,” she promises to Cole, walking through the door he holds open for her. He nods and places his hand on the small of her back, “It’s okay. I like the mom-and-pop vibe of the place. It’s cute.” Kiara spots Y/N easily and squeals. “Y/N, I heard you are back! I’m a little offended that you didn’t come sooner,” Kie tackles her in a hug then spots Cole. “Oh, he’s cute. I approve. I’ll give you the back seat near the window. It’s the most romantic one.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. Y/N laughs at the girl’s comments. The couple is led toward the table and he lets her sit on the booth side facing the front door. “The hostess here is very friendly. I like her,” he jokes as he settles into his seat. Y/N roars with laughter, “Yeah, that’s Kiara. We’re friends. She can get a little excitable.’ Cole chuckles with her. “So what should I eat?”

Y/N smiles at him and points on the menu to her favourite meal. “I love the po’ boys. I normally go for the oyster one, but the shrimp one is good too. Fun fact, these were only supposed to be a special item for the summer menu, but I begged Kiara’s parents, who own this place, to keep it on the menu and I guess I am a very good negotiator.” Cole looks over the choices and nods, “Ohh, that does sound like it would taste good. And you are a very good negotiator, I heard the story about how you negotiated with the people at one of your Canadian venues to have a poutine bar at the signing.”

“Wow, you heard about that? I did do that because who wouldn’t want a poutine bar at their first Canadian signing? The poutine was good in case you were wondering. One of the best decisions I made on the tour. Right after giving out free devil horns and angel wings at each venue. It was so fun seeing everyone wearing them in person and on social media. So how’s work going?” 

“I’m slowly making my way to the top. I would do even better if I could get a certain OBX native to sign on with us.”

“Oh, so that’s the real reason why you wanted this date. I see how it is.”

“I’m joking. I’m joking. You know that. It really is going well, though. The fact that they trusted me to scope out this place is a good sign.”

“So if they do open up an office here, would you be the one to come here?”

“Uh, yeah. I would probably be the one to do that. Have you ever thought about moving back home?”

“Uh, I love this place, but I don’t think my forever home is here. My whole life I’ve dreamed of living in London. Ever since I went to London with my mom when I was younger to check on the publishing of one of her books. It was absolutely magical and plus, I’m already setting up shop there a little more permanently with my bookstore.”

“Right, I heard about your bookstore. I hope I’m going to be on the guest list for the grand opening.”

“Of course, you’ll be first on my list. I promise.”

The rest of the date is spent joking and talking about various things. She honestly had such a good time with him that she forgot that their first date so many years ago was not a great start. It made her forget that she once couldn’t get the idea of Rafe outside of her head. Maybe it really is time for her to move on. 

——

Why she keeps letting Mason drag her to different places is beyond her. She doesn’t want to be at Kelce’s party right now. She hasn’t had a chance to see him yet since she came back but this is not how she imagines their reunion. “Y/N, I was beginning to think you didn’t want to see me,” Kelce yells over the music, giving her a big hug. Y/N returns the hug, “It’s good to see you too, Kelce. Nice party.” “You don’t really mean that, but it means a lot that you are here. Even if I know Mace brought you here.” Y/N shakes her head and lets Kelce get back to greeting other people. She moves towards the kitchen to get some snacks and something to sip on. Mason ran off to talk to friends, so she makes small talk with people she knew, who passed through the kitchen. 

With all the sipping she does, nature starts to eventually call and she makes her way to the upstairs bathroom in Kelce’s room. She knows only his closest friends would dare to go up there. She enters the closed bathroom without knocking because she wasn’t expecting anyone to be in the bathroom. However, she is surprised to see Rafe in there already. She is outraged at the activities she finds him doing up here all by himself. Rafe is leaning over the counter with his nose dangerously close to a white powder substance. He quickly bolts upright and uses the back of his hand to wipe the powder residue around his nose. “What the fuck are you doing?” she yells with anger. The last time she had seen him, he had given up weed because he knew how she felt about drugs. She couldn’t believe he escalated to something stronger.

When she found out about Mason smoking weed, she wasn’t thrilled, but she did research to find out that there was a low risk of drying from a weed overdose. It gave her some peace of mind, but she made both Mason and Rafe, once she found out he picked up the habit too, promise her that they wouldn’t try anything else. They agreed because they knew how terrified she was of losing some after she went to a funeral for one of her mother’s friends, who had died of an overdose. Even though they broke up, she could not believe that Rafe would go against the promise he made fifteen-year-old her. “This is none of your business, Y/L/N,” he spits out, moving in front of the counter, subconsciously, to hide the drugs from her. 

“Rafe, you broke your promise. You and Mason both promised me that you wouldn’t do anything other than weed.”

“Don’t worry, Mace isn’t doing this shit too. He doesn’t know that I’m doing it either. I just needed something to make me forget.” 

“Right now, he is the last thing I’m worried about. What could you possibly need to forget about so much?” Her anger turns to concern as she can see the pain hidden in his eyes. She may not like that he is now doing the drug, but she is slowly piecing the puzzle together. The steps she takes forward are small, as though she is approaching a fawn, because she fears he is going to run from her. He lets her place her hand onto his bicep as he looks at her with blown pupils. “Like you need to ask that question,” he grumbles, moving out of her reach. “No, I guess you don’t. But you aren’t allowed to come back after all these years and pretend like you care.”

“Rafe, I’m not pretending. I really am concerned about you.”

“Don’t lie to me. You don’t care about my feelings. Because if you did, you never would’ve come back. You never would’ve stopped talking to me. And you never would’ve broken up with me.”

She begins to feel frustrated and attacked in this conversation, which causes tears to fall down her cheek. “Really? I broke up with you because I care about you. I sacrificed my future with you because I cared for YOU!” 

Rafe shakes his head and lets out a low chuckle. “No, you sacrificed our love so you can stop feeling guilty.” He doesn’t say another word as he pushes off the counter he was leaning on and storms out of the room. Y/N sits on the toilet and lets her tears stream down her face. 

—— 

She couldn’t stay at the party any longer, so she called Cole and asked him if he could pick her up. He was there about thirty minutes later in a rental car. She gets in without a hitch and he immediately notices her sadness. “Are you okay?” Y/N gives him a tight-lipped smile, “Can we go somewhere else first, please?” Cole nods and starts the car. He takes her to a McDonald’s parking lot. She feels a pain in her chest at the memory of the last time she went to an OBX McDonald’s with a boy. “Thought you might be hungry, so how about I get us something to eat and then you can pour your heart out to me after?” he promises, getting out of the car and into the establishment.

A few minutes later, he jogs out of the restaurant with a bag and tray in his hand. He puts the paper bag on the dashboard and hands over a McFlurry first. She gives him a questioning look, “Dessert first?” “As I like to say, it all ends up in the same place, so why does it matter what you eat first,” he says with a massive grin on his face. Y/N giggles and digs into the frozen treat. She eats some more of her ice cream before talking, “Rafe is doing cocaine.”

“Rafe… as in your ex, that Rafe?”

“Yeah, I saw him doing it at the party and we got into an argument. He knows how I feel about drugs. I can’t believe he would turn towards it.” 

“I can. I mean, I don’t condone it but I can understand why. When I was doing my A-levels, my brother died and I turned to alcohol. I know the pull he feels towards anything that could make him forget,” he begins to explain. “It isn’t healthy how we choose to forget about our problems, but I know how much he must have been hurting to decide to use the drug. You have to understand that he isn’t doing it to hurt you though, he’s doing it because a part of him is hurting.”

She can see the vulnerability in Cole’s eyes and reaches over the centre console to give him a hug, “Thank you. It made me feel better, but I just can’t help but feel guilty about being the one to cause him the pain.”

“I know, but I also know that you didn’t mean to hurt him. Whatever reason you have for breaking up with him, you thought you were doing the right thing. And this may come off as a little selfish, but if you didn’t break up with him, then we wouldn’t be in this car right now. So I am very grateful for that,” he whispers, bringing his face closer to her. She smiles at him and closes the gap between them. 

——

Rafe had made the poor choice of driving while he was high; all he was focused on was getting back home and away from her sad expression. His family was away for the weekend, so it was only Blythe waiting for him to get back. He enters the house with a loud bang coming from the front door. He stays at the front entrance and paces around the room. His hands run through his hair, tugging at the end of the strands. Blythe comes down the stairs wearing just his t-shirt, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” she asks, walking over to him. He turns at her with angry eyes, “Everything is fine, Blythe.” She places her hand on his bicep and rubs it soothingly. “Really? You don’t seem to be.” 

Rafe harshly yanks his arm out of her touch, “I said that I’m fine, Blythe. Geez, why do you have to be so nosy all the time?” His words hold so much venom that she doesn’t miss it. She goes up the stairs and turns back towards him halfway up. “I can see you are hurting right now, but it is no excuse for you to take it out on me. Come find me when you are done being so angry.” With that, she continues back upstairs to their bedroom. Rafe lets out a scream and punches the door near the archway that leads to the family room. He stares at the hole his fist left and makes another one beside it. 

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gillybear17 @f4ll-for-you @winterrrnight @maggiecc @magicwithaknife @loves0phelia @jiarapamuk

#before the last petal falls #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron series #outer banks rafe #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fic #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outerbanks #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #obx imagine #obx #obx fic #obx x reader #obx x you #obx x y/n #obx fanfiction

[linddzz]

Dreamling Nonsense Masterpost

Looking for a fic? For a shit post? For a long winded au thread? Playlists? Got it here. Keeping it Dreamling for now until I really have the time to scour through my various fandom posts to collect the Big Hits.

Audacity in Human Form: E. main WIP. A post season 1 "let's see these two figure their shit out" exploration that's best described as two character studies stacked inside of a fanfic shaped coat. My main tagline for it is "it isn't unrequited, Dream just needs therapy." The fic exploring how the two weirdos I have in my head got together.

Fics/Tumblr Ficlets

"Audacity in Human Form" Series

Not exactly a structured chronological series. I have a pretty set version of my Dream and Hob in the canon!universe, so all the fics I write of them are just the same two dolls I'm bumping together in the same sandbox. They can be read in any order or separately, but there are characterization threads and things mentioned that tie them all together. I like to think that put together they can give fun context or more depth to each other :)

I'm less into Big Plots and more into just having fun bumping these dolls together and playing with how they interact!

It's a WIP and I write slow, as my job takes a lot of mental bandwidth.

(Other fics in the same series can be read even while the first isn't done! They don't really spoil much except for the fact that they do end up together. But of course they are.)

In Which Hob, a Shitty Wizard, Meets a Supposed Demon: Gen. Drabble ficlet on Tumblr as I start exploring my Shit-wizard Hob AU. More of a rough draft concept fic

Obviously: E. smut prompt fill one-shot. PWP. Dream is a needy eldritch pissbaby and also violently romantic. Hob scruffs him for some much needed gentle domming.

This Isn't the Trope: Teen. Lots of cussing. Johanna is agressively investigating an immortal man, Hob is looking forward to being dramatically rescued by his hot supernatural boyfriend. No one but Morpheus has a good time.

OTHER FICS/DRABBLES

Audacity in Human Form related posts (esp the ones that broke containment)

"Oysters have nightmares like this"

"Jokes on you, you're into that shit"

Hob: "no. Shut up. I'm talking now."

Characterization Notes aka: I'm gonna start bullying Morpheus

Other mutterings about writing or snippets are under the tags "#my fic" and "#audacity in human form"

AU Cooking:

I'm honestly better at coming up with every single detail for an AU without actually writing the fic, but I like playing in the sandbox and other people seem to have fun with them too :)

Human!AU. There are kinda two versions of this that I'm starting to meld together.

Red Flags AU post: Hob is hired to be the party ruining messy boyfriend, but cannot begin to compete with the insanity that is the Endless family and the Hot Mess Express Morpheus, who hired him. They fall in love instantly. "Why would I fix him??? He's perfect."

Red Flags AU 2: slight deviation from the OG where everything is the same, except Morpheus' messy friend Johanna accidentally introduces them and instantly regrets it. She did not anticipate Hob reacting to Morpheus' red flags like a charging bull.

Assorted Human!Morpheus facts

Shit-wizard Hob AU: where Hob is still immortal, except Death is his Endless buddy. He first meets Morpheus when trying to take up occultism at Fawney Rig (he's bad at it but is gonna stick around now. For reasons.)

Meta-ish Shitposting:

Hob meets Thessaly. Avril Lavigne's "Girlfriend" starts playing ominously in the distance when she doesn't appreciate how much of a needy clingy freak Morpheus is.

#1

#2

#3

Spotify Playlists:

I process Blorbo feelings with hyper specific playlists. Putting Dreamling and other fandom ones here bc I guess it's about time I share more of them

Audacity in Human Form PL: 1h33m fic specific. Set up to alternate Dream/Hob POV. Blatant "2012 fandom brain" indulgence in here.

Hot Mess Endless Express: 1hr45m the general Dream playlist. Not ship specific, all romantic songs are how I just see him in any relationship. Mostly serious, except when it isn't but especially when it isnt

The Devil of Fawney Rig: the playlist I imagine goes in Dreams head when he's stuck in a fishbowl and horny for revenge. Made with the shit-wizard Hob AU in mind

Newton Goes Kaiju All Over Everybody's Ass: 1hr it really is too bad that there was never a second Pacific Rim movie but wow isn't Dark!Geiszler a great concept? 🙃

EDDIE I MADE A PLAYLIST EDDIE: 44m Venom made a playlist for Eddie, isn't that nice?

Mountain Son: 1h30m Bagginshield Thorin feelings ahoy. Made with Mahrâna in mind.

The Bacchae: 1h. The soundtrack for the dream production of the Bacchae in my head. Meant to follow the progression of the play

The Huntress and the Maenad: 1h30m insane sapphic bitch in the woods solidarity

Mysteries: 7+hours!!!!!! The ongoing playlist for joining the cult of Dionysus and eating a billionaire in the woods

#masterpost #look i finally did it

[mslanna]

Omg darling that was wow!! Will you consider doing “A Lesson In Patience” for Raph another shapes? Human? Devil? Or Haarlep version?? I’m a sucker for bad in bed Raphael 🥹

Raphael comes after a second and Tav is there to help him build endurance. Or so they think. Rahpael in human form this time. (Already planning a last story with his cambion form for a full set (with A Lesson in Patience) I think I'll throw in Haarlep with devil form Raphael. They're not bad at sex at all after all...) AFAB Tav with top surgery

A Touch Too Much (on AO3)

"Oh boy." Tav sat back on their haunches looking at the mess before them. They had barely – barely – touched the devil and he had come like, well, with great enthusiasm. "I really thought we were making progress here."

It wasn't clear how much Raphael heard. He lay relaxed and slightly rumpled with his eyes half closed. His breath was slowly evening out and Tav really, really, really wished he didn't look so utterly soft.

He stirred and reached for them with one hand and Tav followed. "You are doing good," the devil mumbled into their hair, pressing Tav tightly against his chest. "Very good," he added lazily.

From up here, Tav had a good view of their success as well. Or rather, their failure. The goal was Raphael lasting longer. Haarlep had not been joking when they said the devil had the shelf life of a raw oyster.

"Unfortunately, you are not," they replied with a sigh. "I am not even getting started, Raphael. It's great that kissing and petting get you worked up nicely, but you have to find a way to hold out."

So far, the devil got further than a perfunctory handjob exactly once. And this was human form. It wasn't as if Tav had an excessive amount of cock to work with. Not that is was small, either. Generously proportional. Tav closed their eyes. None of this was helping.

At least they got their hands on the devil now and then. In his human form, Raphael was exceedingly soft. Everything about him. The silky hair, the deep brown eyes, the tan skin. Tav sighed. "No rest for the wicked. Get clean and we try again."

In one of his more annoying habits, Raphael magicked the cum away without moving for more than a snap of his fingers. He released Tav from his embrace and the human crawled back over him like a cat returning to their favourite spot.

"Why am I even doing this?" Tav wondered softly, but their hands were back in the devil's hair. Tav licked their lips, staring down ant the creature pretending to be human. He did a gorgeous job of it and for a moment they lost themselves in the velvety warmth of his gaze. It was no wonder people lined up at his bedside. But it was their job to make sure they didn't leave utterly disillusioned and frustrated.

Warm hands wandered over Tav's sides, and they leant down, placing a gentle kiss onto the inviting lips. The familiar taste of ash and iron flooded their mouth as Raphael yielded to their soft pressure and opened to their tongue.

It's like magic. They barely needed to do anything. Raphael melted into their touch, shivering under fingertips but grazing his skin. A defter touch didn't help at all. He'd sigh a long sound of contentment, run his hands up their arms and cup their head. Tav knew the feel of his hands buried in their hair by heart; knew the erratic jerks as they left wet trails over his throat, down the chest where they were tempted to nuzzle each curl individually.

At least it was easy. Showering Raphael with affection and caresses was narual as breathing. It brought a deep kind of contentment that made Tav blush when they thought about it. They spoiled this brat rotten and enjoyed every moment of it.

So was he. By the time Tav had made their leisurely way down over his stomach, following the very happy trail unto it's conclusion, the waiting cock was hard again. One day, they'd get to actually suck on that. But not yet. Tav wasn't eager to get another eyeful of cum because the bastard devil couldn't hold it in when they put a first fucking kiss on the underside of his erection.

Instead they reached for his balls, curled their fingers carefully around a less sensitive part of his body. Raphael harrumphed approval. A noise that quickly morphed into a groan when Tav placed their other hand around his erection. They took a deep breath and stroked slowly.

For a few moments, it worked. Tav smiled up at Raphael, but the devil had closed his eyes, thrown his head back. His chest moved heavily, tan expanse of soft hair and skin shuddering under rising tension.

Tav let go, stroked his thighs instead and offered a break to calm down. The devil took it but grumbling, unhappy about the delay in his pleasure. That was the main problem, maybe, that he was too focussed on his own body.

"Try to think of some thing unsexy," Tav suggested. "Not so bad that you wilt like a hyacinth in hell, mind you. Just unsexy enough to be turning you off a bit, lower your strain."

Whatever Raphael thought up, it helped. For a stroke and a half. Then his cock returned to full hardness and with a low groan, the devil came. Again. Tav slumped between his legs, staring at the hopeless case flopping limp before them once more. How much longer than the first time had that been? Not much.

"Maybe that is your only hope right now," Tav sighed beat. "To jerk off several times before you go on an intimate date. At least you'll last long enough to– eh. Who am I kidding."

No wonder Haarlep hated it here. Raphael wasn't a challenge at all. Tav felt fairly certain they could put the tip of their finger to the tip of the devil's cock and he'd come. What was an incubus to do with such under-stimulation of their needs?

The cum vanished and Tav let the devil drag them to his side again. "You're hopeless," they murmured into his hair, ready to give up for the day. Maybe for forever. If Raphael kept "improving" at this speed, they'd still be trying to get their mouth over his cock when they turned eighty.

"A fault all my own, no doubt." Raphael closed his arms around Tav. In his human form, their body fit perfectly parallel to his. And Raphael got everything he wanted, handed on a silver platter. He also bypassed any needling from Haarlep for wanting another form to enjoy. His little mouse rendered excellent service and he saw no need to give up on it.

They returned ever so often, almost eagerly to help him with his little "problem." It wasn't his fault that Tav kneeling over him was everything he desired. Their pretty little lips pressed against his, the taste of mortal flesh, a hint of musk. Those clever hands learning all the ways he liked. The look of concentration puckering their lips.

How could anybody resist such temptation?

By the time, Tav was done kissing him, Raphael was more than ready. The thought of their hands slipping between his legs, the feeling when their fingertips touched down on his erection ever so lightly. Tav was doing most excellent – of their own free will. A thought strong enough to break him every time.

Raphael ran his hand over their back, thoughts lingering pleasantly on the possibility of another go. If he didn't think of those soft lips closing around his cock, ah. No. He better not think of that. Though he hated to see Tav so dejected. "Come," he pulled them close until the sadness shining in Tav's eyes held no more power. "One more time."

Tav resigned themselves to his kiss. Soft and yielding they followed his lead, their fragile body flush against his.

But even Tav needed encouragement now and then; a little bit of proof their efforts were not in vain. The taste of their lips wasn't something Raphael was willing to do without. He swapped their positions and looked down at the human in his arms for a moment. Tav tried their best version of an encouraging smile.

Raphael kissed the strained corners of their mouth gently. It didn't turn them quite into a genuine smile but it was close enough. It was a lot less difficult to control his urges when he was busy eliciting sweet noises from Tav. And what a symphony they made.

Their skin was cool under his lips and he followed the scars on their body with tongue and teeth. Tav moaned under his ministrations as their hands scrabbled for purchase in his hair and on his back. Skin slick with sweat moved against his.

The reversal of roles was arousing, the power he exerted of their body intoxicating. Raphael ducked between their legs, preparing his entry to the rising whine of Tav's need. They were ready, more than that after working him for several times.

To know this didn't leave them cold drew a hungry growl from his lips. When he slipped a finger into them, Tav's hips bucked and Raphael caught their clit with his mouth, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. He held Tav caught between his finger and lips for a while, drinking down their tangy taste of desire and hopeless noises of want.

Raphael slid up their body slowly, teeth grazing the sweltering skin, nipping gasps from Tav's mouth. His name rose from their lips when he took the time to suck on their nipples, fingers painting the scars under them with nails digging deep.

"Maybe this is the solution to my "problem", he gloated. The human was dishevelled, pupils dilated and mouth open for the taking. "To seduce my partner instead of receiving attention only. How long do I need to last?"

He didn't let Tav answer, closing their mouth with his and pressing his hard cock against their entrance. The content gurgle slipping into his mouth as he moved in sated him.

Raphael didn't need to think of something unsexy. Not as long as he held the image of Tav whining in need and want for him firmly in mind. And he was getting there. With each thrust, he received another cadence to break apart between his teeth.

Tav writhed under him, soft body burning with a fire hotter than hell. The devil stoked it and finally released Tav's mouth to sing their need into the air. Holding back was a hooked barb in his desire, a peak of pain driving down deep.

But Raphael held back. His lust for Tav's want greater then the pleasure of his own release. He hungered for their yearning, the soft gasps dropping from their mouth each time he buried himself in them. Still it was a touch too much.

He leant down, sucking Tav's mouth up and slipping a hand between them. His finger tip found their clit wet and swollen. His caress flitted over it lightly, barely noticeable and yet more than enough.

Tav bucked into him as throes of ecstasy surged through their body. Raphael rode the waves into his own climax, shaken by the relief and release of tension held for too long.

They moved, each on their own and yet together in deliverance, and Raphael watched with deep-seated satisfaction how Tav's body relaxed slowly, turned into a soft assembly of flesh and bone carried only by the gently hum of calming muscles.

Finally content with the fruits of his labour, he sank back over them and rested his face next to theirs. The lines of Tav's body aligned perfectly with his own small human frame. It wasn't his favourite shape, but in these moments, Raphael found a new appreciation for the most vulnerable of his forms.

"It won't work forever, you know?" Tav mumbled into the devil's shoulder. He covered them like a hot, heavy blanket soaking up the shivering remnants of their ecstasy.

"Why not?" His tone was bemused.

"If they really like you, they want to please you." Tav sighed.

"I assume they will be exceedingly disappointed in case I react overly sensitive to their ministrations," Raphael nodded into their hair. "Such a shame. What a painful thought that I should be so excited by them that a touch is too much."

Tav snorted. They almost laughed but something stuck in the wheels of their mind. "Nevermind," they grumbled. "I need to go."

"Of course," Raphael replied.

But neither moved.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #bg3 fanfiction #anon ask #writing prompt #mel writes fanfic #sleazy second-hand car dealer

[corie-is-writing]

↳ ❝ [S Y N P O S I S] ¡! ❞

Y/n L/n, a simple minded reader, is one of the biggest fans of a popular web novel, Twisted wonderland. In their shock after finding out it has ended, they froze in the middle of a busy street and got hit by a truck.

Dizzy and confused, they have awoken in a coffin in the world they adore so much, and must use their knowledge to survive and stop the boys from overblotting.

↳ ❝ [M A S T E R L I S T] ¡! ❞

↳ ❝ [THE CRIMSON TYRANT] ¡! ❞

˗ˏˋ Fight for the eggs ´ˎ˗

"Finally, Got them all puréed!" Ace cheers, hands in the air before he slumps his shoulders. Besides him is a tired Deuce resting against the counter.

"My arms are killing me." He silently says.

"Kids these days are pretty weak.." The mainstreet ghost says, none of you know why he's here but he's been a huge help so nobody really cares.

"Now then," Trey speaks, adjusting his glasses. "I just need to add butter and sugar to the chestnut paste, and a sensible splash of oyster sauce– that's my secret ingredient!"

Everybody snaps their heads towards him, eyes wide and jaws dropped.

"OYSTER SAUCE??" The cards yell in confusion, clearly astounded at what Trey just said.

"Yep. The umami of the oysters gives the cream a deep, savory flavor. I use this one here: Walrus-brand Young Oyster Sauce. All the best bakers use it in their tarts." Trey innocently explains, innocently to them– at least. Already knowing the joke, you instead turn your attention to the chestnuts paste.

'Just a little taste..' You think, reaching your hand out while everyone is distracted. Unfortunately, the ghost catches you and bonks you on the head with a whisk.

With a huff, you turn your attention back to the rest as Deuce speaks. "Really? But isn't oyster sauce like, super salty?"

"Some folks put chocolate into curry, don't they? Maybe it's the same idea." Ace suggests, though the look on his face means he doesn't entirely believe it.

Unable to restrain from smiling, the green haired lets out a boisterous laugh– clearly entertained by their confusion and naivety. "Pfft- Aha!"

The two turn their heads with perplexed expressions as Trey explains. "I'm totally lying! No one in their right mind would put oyster sauce into a pastry."

Ace and Deuce blink, "EH?!" The two shout, embarrassed with how they believed him so easily.

"So you were just yankin' our chain?!" Ace huffs, annoyed.

"Consider it a lesson to not believe people so easily." Trey chuckles, Grim sends a glare at him.

"This guy seems nice, yet he can tell lies like they're nothing.."

Swiftly changing the topic, Trey sets his gaze back on the task at hand. "Now, we take some cream and.. Oh!"

"Something up?"

"I got too carried away and made too much marron paste." Trey says. "We don't have enough cream to mix it into."

"I can go and buy some," Deuce offers. "Is it sold at the school store?"

"Should be. You can find practically anything there. Mind if I ask you to pick up a few other things while you're there? Two cartons of milk, a dozen eggs, some aluminum baking cups, and about five cans of fruit..."

"I don't think I can carry all that alone. Would you mind coming with me, Y/n?" Deuce asks, turning to face you– stopping Grim from rummaging through the fridge.

"Sure thing!" You nod, grabbing Grim with you as you head out the door.

𓆩♡𓆪

Upon entering the store, you are overwhelmed at the sight of various colors surrounding the place. From snacks to trinkets, drinks and rugs, hats, masks, books– you can find just about anything in here.

'My school store didn't even have milk..' You sigh.

"Pardon us." Deuce says, taking a look around in awe. "This place is amazing.. crystal skulls, grimoires.. What kinda texidermy is this?"

"Does this place reallly sell cream?" Grim pipes in, trying to paw at the strange orb on the counter before you stop him.

"Hey, my lost little imps!" A booming voice speaks up, you turn to see an eccentric man clad in purple. "Welcome to Mr. S's mystery shop!" He welcomes, before turning your attention to all sorts of strange things.

"What can I do for you today? A charm for uncharted lands? Mummy of an ancient king–" How does he have that? "Or perhaps some cursed tarot cards?" Why does he have that?

"We've got a list here.." Deuce interrupts, handing him the piece of paper. Sam carefully reads the list and nods.

"You've got quite the sweet lineup, okay! Coming right up." He says, walking off to gather the stuff.

While waiting, you decide to look around the store, you peek through shelved of sweets and sauces, to comics like "That time I got forced into a demon school" or "I woke up as a lowly dumb evil villainous character and slowly leveled up and became a god."

What a mouthful.

Then– Something shiny in one of the boxes caught your eye, you grab it to observe closer. Hard, long, a metalic gray in color, somewhat heavy.. Perfect for self defense, perhaps.

"Y/n, something caught your eye?" The blue haired boy asks, peeking through your shoulder.

You turn around and show him the object in your hands. "I want this."

"...A metal bat?"

"Yep."

Grim and Deuce stay silent in concern, questioning why you would need something like that.

"You're not gonna kill someone, are ya?"

"Grim!"

Deuce shushed the beast, before hesitantly turning back to you– who is just staring at them blankly.

"I just like shiny objects." That was of course a lie.

"I see.." Deuce lets out a sigh of relief, though he doesn't seem entirely convinced.

Sam steps in, carrying the bags. "Sorry for the wait." He says as you take it from his hands.

"Sammy, can I get this bat too?" You ask.

"Sure thing!"

Deuce pays for the ingredients while you pay for your bat, which is surprisingly very cheap. The three of you (with you grabbing Grim before he knocks something off the shelves.) step out the store with a quick thanks to Sam.

"Yuu, that bag of cans looks heavy." Deuce says, turning to you. "Let me take it, there's a trick to carrying heavy bags." He offers.

"There is?"

"Yeah, my mom always bought more than needed during sales. Since I'm the only guy in the house, it was up to me to do the heavy lifting.." He pauses, giving you an apologetic look. "My bad! didn't mean to talk your ears off.."

You give him a polite and sincere smile, "You must really care for your mom.

The blue haired boy seemed takened back by your words and smile, flustered and hesitant to speak. However, as he processes your words, the look on his face is quickly replaced by a dark and gloomy espression. "That's not true, I always made mom-"

Before he could finish, someone bumps into him, causing the bags in his hands to drop to the ground– crushing the eggs inside.

"Agh! The eggs!" Grim squawked, Deuce takes one look at the bag– the yellow liquid oozing out and into the concrete ground below.

"Shit! The whole pack of eggs, destroyed!" He curses to himself.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" The boy that bumped into him says, he fixes his sight onto Deuce and quickly remembers who he is. "Hang on, aren't you the pieces of shits that ruined my carbonara?"

As he says this, his friend blinks and turns to you, squeaking at the sight of your unnerving stare and the tight grip you have on the metal bat near your hip. He grips onto the foul mouthed boy.

"D-dude! Calm down, let's apologize and leave already!" He begs, his voice cracking in desperation.

"What, you scared? Don't be a wuss, they were just lucky that time!" Idiot number 1 responds, but guessing by the sweat forming on the side of his cheeks and the way his eyes frantically switch from looking to you, the bat, and anywhere else, he was afraid.

As if his entire life was enlightened, the one with more common sense threw that sense out the window as he nodded. Turning to you with narrowed eyes and tightened fists. "You guys seriously just can't get out of trouble.."

Deuce stayed silent for a bit, then took a deep breath, "You were the ones who jumped out from behind the corner." He said calmly, though you see from the corner of your eye how his shoulders tensed.

"Even at lunch, it wasn't as if you couldn't eat the egg anymore, and yet you still tried to pick a fight with us. You do realize you just ruined a whole pack of our eggs, don't you?"

"Yeah yeah!" Grim piped in, cheering the navy blue haired on. His claws are out and his eyes are narrowed in a cutely menacing way.

"And? You sayin' it's our fault?" Idiot number 1 says, really reinforcing his idiocy by questioning something very obvious to anyone with half a brain.

"Yes." Deuce flatly says. "Please pay for the eggs, and apologize to the chickens too."

At that, your body shook– not from fear or rage but from the sheer will of your entire mind, soul, and body trying not to burst out laughing as the scene replayed in your head. Your face contorts into a strange wrinkled expression as you took a deep breath.

"Huh? They're just eggs, what are you gettin' so worked up about?" Idiot number 2 says, it astonished you how much of a hypocrite one can be.

"..Excuse me?"

They looked at Deuce with mocking grins, pointing at the eggs– idiot number 1 speaks. "They ain't on the ground, so you can still eat them. Don't sweat the small stuff."

Ah, they weren't being hypocrites, they were being assholes.

'That makes a whole lot more sense.' You turn to Deuce, seeing how he seethed in anger– his fist shook and his whole body looked tense as he looked down with a shadow cast over his eyes.

"We saved you a ton of time breaking them!"

"Ahahaha!"

God, their laughs were as obnoxious as their faces. It took everything in you to not bash in their face right then and there.

"Laughing matter.."

"Huh?"

You really shouldn't, since Deuce is the one who will.

"I SAID THIS ISN'T A LAUGHING MATTER, YOU ASSHOLES!" The delinquents flinched at the volume of his voice– sneering at them with a look of distaste, his veins popping out as he reached his hands out and grabbed idiot number 1 by the collar.

"What makes you think you get to decide what matters to us?! See those eggs? They were gonna become a delicious tart to make up for not gettin' to hatch into chicks! That makin' sense to your thick heads or what?! Huh?!" He spat out in a fit of rage.

Idiot number 1 quickly released himself from Deuce's grip with the help of his friend– squirming back as his heart thumped and face was a sweaty mess.

"E-eek!! What's up with this guy all of the sudden?" Idiot number 2's voice cracked, shrinking back at the intense glare of Deuce.

"If you don't wanna pay for the six eggs you broke.. then I hope you're ready to get punched in that same amount!"

"WHAA?!"

"SQUARE UP YOU PIECES OF SHITS!"

Oh boy this is not safe for work, "GRIM AVERT YOUR EYES!"

#twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst reader insert #twst grim #twst ace #twst deuce #twst trey #twst fanfic

[scaninforfun]

Our first bull

so way back when we started our bull hunt we found one on bumble we'll call Jam. he was very quiet about his play and his job ment discretion was a must. Bumble doesnt allow naughty pics but his eyes were ... OMG. he was lightskin and had a beautiful smile but with alligator eyes, not green not blue but both too. he was in town for a couple months for training and he was a good conversationalist and had a good sense of humor. he was sexual without rushing it. then we got to exchanging pictures and .... holy sweet mother of cocks... admittedly there was some trepidation. and some jokes. but that smile and those eyes and that conversation. so we set up a meeting. the dress was a slim snug fitting dress with slits up the hips and underneath a cage lingerie set that left everything bare and ready, if albeit nervous about that cock. we met and quickly were in the hotel room and i set up the phone so j could watch later. i felt myself sliding around the bed like a cat with a toy. soon he released it...the pictures did not lie. so pretty, so big. i did my best to suck it but theres a limit to every throat, but still it grew both infront of my eyes and in my mouth, this would be a challenge, but defiantly a good one. to my surprise (and if i didnt have the video i wouldnt belive it) i took it all down my throat. his hands on me were firm but soft, he wanted pussy. i bent over and he eased in... then i was used to that beast and he started pounding. god it felt good, just slamming over and over, he damn near climbed on me to get even deeper hitting all my spots. then we moved so J could see my tits while i got pounded and i was in a daze, god that was a great cock attached to an awesome person (perfect combo). soon we tired for a moment and he laid back on the bed (he earned a rest) and i again took him in my mouth. tasting both of us and feeling that massive throbbing cock against my lips and tongue was a delight but a short lived one, we both wanted that feeling in other places. i climbed him and slowly lowered myself onto him. i rode and grounded against him shoving that beast in all those deep spots till i shivered and then he took control again.

he put me on my back and spread my legs before driving into me. oh god. so rough, so hard, so fucking great. just no stop hammering my poor pussy till finally he came. oh god, so much fucking cum. i was so glad he had a clean test and we could leave the magnums on the side table but he wasnt done.... he bent me over again and started his "climbing fuck". just fucking pounding me with those long deep hard strokes till to my suprised i felt that warm flood again... back to back cumming. fuuuuuuuck yes. we laid on the bed and paused the video, we talked some more, more jokes. that smile and those eyes...fuuuuck he was sexy and cute and sweet. then i saw that beast rising again... he took me and bent me over the hotel table and pressed record and again pounded the fuck out of me while i tried not to collapse and fall off the table. my face contorted and i went through even more orgasms (i fucking lost count before he came the first time) and he just kept pounding as i rode wave after wave till one last time... the flood. the warm rush as he filled my stuffed pussy with ANOTHER full cum load (someone had oysters for lunch or something). after some more talking and joking we parted, i mustve looked a mess as i left the hotel because the looks i got snicker fucking prudes. when i got home i was told not to shower but i did brush my hair and grab a drink while my J watched the video.... then i got mounted and fucked again, and again. 5 cumloads, 2 guys, and a pussy that was shivering from all the attention. that was the first bull i played with

#ethically non monogamous #openmarriage #kinkywife #stag vixen #sharedwife #story time #hotel sex #slutty wife

[qvincvnx]

do you have a post about b a b e l? I haven't read it yet but would loooove to hear why you personally dislike it

legend thank you. some spoilers below.

good things about babel

(sort of a good thing): interesting magic worldbuilding conceit. the idea is that lexical gaps across translation power magic, and that as europe gets semantically linguistically closer, magic is fading - time to for the institution to exploit east asian languages! this concept conceptually fucks. however every single thing about the execution was awful that this actually pisses me off more, because i want to read the book that actually does this and now i never can because this came out first.

bad things about babel, in approximately ascending order of how agonizing they make the experience of reading it

literally the basic execution. the prose is clumsy; it's historical fiction that's trying to be historical-voiced and the character voices are completely indistinguishable from 1. one another 2. your average twitter user. this is incredibly embarrassing for the author but it doesn't even seem to be something on her radar to be embarrassed about; this is the first thing i noticed as off and the thing that kept me closest to DNFing throughout. if she would like to teach intro colonialist theory seminars with modern jargon and terms then the author could have done that as an academic. it would have been really lovely to have something of a window into how this issue was being discussed at the time! what frameworks contemporary colonized and colonial people used to understand their own resistance to british rule... but absolutely no research on this was done (if it was, none of it was in the text)

apes the craft of more effectively written books without understanding what made them effective, which is just genuinely agonizing to read. particularly notable here are its attempted utilization of footnotes but it is not jsmn. yk. there's a chapter that's just one sentence, with a footnote that takes up the whole page with a bunch of diagrams, and then the next chapter repeats the previous sentence with a comma and goes on into the prose... you didn't have to do that... (this one is admittedly kind of BEC-y) (also the copyediting was not great throughout i found a number of problems. that is not really the author's fault but it felt like the book was trying to literally precisely gaslight me about what good prose looks like)

ahistorical in the extreme. again, i cannot express this effectively but it really demonstrates a lack of basic effort and care throughout. as this reviewer notes regarding oysters, the author seems incapable or unwilling to imagine how people might have thought or felt about something if it's different from how she feels about it. the author's note devotes like 7x as much page time apologizing for slightly altering how long it takes to get from oxford to london as it does for CHANGING THE CORONATION DATE OF QUEEN VICTORIA in a book that's in large part about the expansion and impacts of GLOBAL COLONIAL EXPLOITATION. one of these things impacts the part of the world she can clearly imagine - her oxford, where they serve oysters - and the other one has massive global implications.

NONE OF THESE CHARACTERS WHO ARE TRANSLATORS CARE ENOUGH ABOUT LANGUAGE TO DELIGHT IN LANGUAGE. all of the discussion of translation is pretty rote, but also like... my friends who are into language and i joke, we play with sounds and words and cross-language puns. none of the characters seemed to actually enjoy their academic passion. stressed me out on their behalves (also no one, like, studies, but this is typical of the genre)

this isn't really a full point but it annoyed me SO badly it's going in here. MC describes a later-revealed-to-be-bad female character as something like 'giving feminists a bad name'. A) it is set in the like 1830s and the word feminist makes no sense in context B) yOU WROTE HER ACTING LIKE THAT, SHE IS NOT AN INDEPENDENT PERSON WITH FREE WILL. YOU MADE HER DO THAT. basically you can clearly see the author's strings moving the characters around, the author tries SO hard to make sure you like and dislike all the correct characters that it is like can you please just let them move around and act like human beings.

by extension - incredibly flat characterization. the characters move to the beat of the plot, rather than seeming internally consistent. the MC's father is villainous in a very specific way - condescending white man's burden pushing for economic/cultural influence and assimilation of talented ~colonials into the imperial core - right up until the MC needs a justified reason to murder him, at which point he is magically revealed to have been a virulently racist war hawk trying to spur on the deaths of thousands. like, sure, okay, racist one way will be racist another, you could do this effectively - but again, you can see the author's hand in these matters and the timing of these revelations, and she is clumsy with her dolls.

i am not an expert in these matters personally but i definitely did find it ironic that babel's thesis is "empires are bad!" and then it immediately undercuts itself discussing china like "unless they are empires run by poc, then the protagonists should root for them" like skill issue all empires are bad definitionally. thanks.

i was thoroughly underwhelmed by its attempt to engage in class politics. really embarrassing.

it's dark academia with no homoeroticism in sight

#hopefully this made sense. the last bad point is half a joke (it should be lower on the list it's just a better punchline) but it is true. #idk how to tag this for people who don't want to see this without it going in the tag. i'm sorry. #i'm sure i'm forgetting things these are just the instances i screenshotted and which therefore stuck to my brain better.

[aziraphales-library]

hello mods!! ive just read a fic called ''curve of old bones'' and ''snow angel'' i believe it was called and was wondering what fic you can recommend me to read that follows the themes of fake dating/ enemies to friends to lover/ pining whilst fucking sorta thing???

Hey, we have tags for everything you're asking for! #fake/pretend relationship, #enemies to lovers, #enemies to friends to lovers, #pining while fucking. As pining while fucking only has two posts, here are some more to add...

Curses foiled again by hapax (E)

To be blunt: in order to return to tip-top condition, Aziraphale was going to have to get laid. And the angel had spent almost six thousand years of his existence among humans assiduously avoiding anything of the sort. Aziraphale turns to his hereditary enemy for assistance with a particularly pesky curse. After all, it’s not like a demon has any feelings that might be involved.

Ambrosia by pilatesandpinot (E)

Those damn aphrodisiacs. They chatted as they soaked in the water, Crowley ate from a platter of fruit, hoping the sugar from them would somehow cure his sudden lightheadedness, as the blood in his head was probably pumping down to his groin, and get rid of the heated feeling in his abdomen, while Aziraphale lathered her arms and shoulders with oil. When she moved down to her breasts and tummy, she leaned back a bit, slowly and carefully cupping herself and making a small little hum sound as she rubbed her belly. Crowley had to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from groaning, watching the glisten of the angel’s skin, the warm glow she seemed to be emitting, her lush and curvy body sitting comfortably in the water. He was indeed fucked. ------------------------------ Aziraphale and Crowley have oysters at Petronius's, and soon learn while visiting the bath house afterwards why oysters are one of Aphrodite's favorite foods.

May My Teaching Drop as the Rain by Dee_Morris (E)

Several people on Twitter have commented that there isn't enough Ineffable Tutors content out there, and I have to agree. The book doesn't go into very much detail about what Cortese and Harrison get up to in the years they spend educating young Warlock, and as a fic writer there's nothing as much fun as a blank space to play in. I expect that the stories in this series will more or less stand alone, but I'll add notes and recaps where I think it's necessary. These will mostly be light-hearted horny adventures with little to no angst. Tags may change or be added as I write more stories.

Out There by snae_b (E)

Small town paper, small town news, and Aziraphale always gets stuck with the shit stories. Strange lights in the desert? Aziraphale might as well be writing about el Chupacabra. Again. At least his source is cute, even if he is a little out there.

The Arrangement by TawnyOwl95 (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley are set up on a blind date as a joke by their respective housemates. They decide to get their own back and call everybody's bluff by *gasp* fake dating!

Craving by DawnOfTomorrow (E)

“You want me to pay for it.” He drawled, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” His assistant said, entirely unimpressed by the fact that he could fire her. “You said-” “I said that it would probably be a good idea for you to get some, and if you can’t be bothered to do it the normal way, that there are professional options. And then I said that if you’d like, I could recommend someone.” --- He called the fucking number. He didn’t know why – okay, he did, he was an idiot, tipsy, lonely, and horny – but he called the damn number. --- Even just looking at the blonde’s profile, he felt a twinge in his gut. Blonde curls indeed – over features that revealed the other man’s age, light eyes, and a cute, upturned nose. Slim lips, currently curved in a smile for the bartender. Crowley studied the rest of him too – a bit of chub, not enough to be fat, but definitely dad-bod territory. He sighed softly, wondering what sort of witch Anathema was, because she had been spot on about this guy being his type. He didn’t even need to see the large hands or plush thighs to make up his mind – this… this could work.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #adult omens #pining while fucking #human au #mod d

[jakey-beefed-it]

3 Kingdoms Chicken Recipe

This one's a little more involved than burrito glop, but I'm up to making it most nights and I'm a depressive lump who can barely drag himself out of bed half the time so it's gotta be relatively low-spoons, right? Right.

First things first: the name is a joke. It's got nothing to do with the 3 kingdoms period in Chinese history. Instead it's because the dish includes chicken (animalia), lots of veggies (plantae) and mushrooms (fungi).

You will need:

rice and a means of making rice

a big pot

a pan (if you've got non-canned chicken)

boneless chicken breasts, thighs, or canned chicken

butter or sesame oil

cream of mushroom soup concentrate

chicken broth

bok choi, broccoli, carrots, mushrooms of your choice.

seasonings of your choice.

My seasonings:

powdered garlic (lots)

onion flakes (also lots)

soy sauce (not as heavy as the garlic but not light)

kitchen bouquet/maggi (a modest amount)

fish sauce (a modest amount; like a single 'bloop' per can of soup. you can sub with oyster sauce if you've got that instead; both are good, if a bit different end results)

lemon juice (added in to cut the flavor if it gets too heavy/dark, to taste)

pepper (as desired)

sesame seeds (as desired)

chilli powder (as desired; I go light, you do you)

Prep:

Chop up your vegetables (and mushrooms if they're not pre-cut)

Defrost your chicken, tenderize it such that it's relatively flat and will cook more evenly.

Cooking:

Dump the can(s) of cream of mushroom concentrate into the big pot. Add about half a can's worth of chicken broth per can you're using. Set the burner to a low-ish heat, like 3 to 4.

Add your seasonings to the soup, stir thoroughly. Add your vegetables and turn the heat up to 4 or 5. Cover so it heats up faster, but leave the lid off once it's bubbling well so some of the liquid can boil off.

Make your rice. I recommend about a cup of rice per person you're serving, but maybe you really like rice and want to make loads of it. Don't let me stop you. Minute rice is fine, but you can literally use minute rice proportions (one cup water per cup of rice) to make basmati rice in the goddamn microwave if you don't have a rice cooker. Feel free to add a bit of ginger if that tickles you. I don't always, but sometimes I'm in the mood for it.

Heat up the pan, add a thin layer of sesame oil OR throw a pat or two of butter in and make sure it melts and covers the whole pan. Or do both, fuck, do what you want; rules are made up. Lay out your chicken breasts or thighs and sautee them, flippin' 'em and cutting them open as necessary to ensure they're thoroughly cooked.

Note: There is no such thing as 'medium rare' chicken. That is how you get food poisoning. Don't do it. Cook your chicken all the way through. No more pink should be showing. Love yourself, love your family, cook your food thoroughly.

Serve rice, serve chicken, pour soup/veggies over both. Eat it with a knife and fork unless you're the sort to pick up pieces of chicken and just tear them apart with your teeth.

Alternately, if you're not feelin' it, you can just throw some canned chicken in the pan for a bit, or even directly in with the soup and veggies and serve that over rice. If you're cooking for yourself, just throw it all in one big bowl, eat your fill, and put any leftovers in the fridge for later.

You can also cut up the chicken into chunks if you're gonna eat it with chopsticks, or if you just like it better that way. Ideally you sautee the breasts or thighs whole, then cut them up after they're cooked (they're juicier that way) but you can cut 'em up and then fry 'em if you like, make yourself happy.

This one has a lot more prep time involved (mostly in remembering to defrost the chicken, then tenderizing it, and in chopping up veggies) but you can cut corners by using pre-chopped frozen veggies and/or canned chicken. It's not as good, but it's still pretty great compared to the alternative depression meal of like, a whole sleeve of saltines or a few pre-cooked hot dogs.

There are no hard and fast rules to seasoning. I like to add it as I go, sampling the broth and judging what it needs more of. Too tangy? You overdid the lemon juice; add more carrots and a bit more kitchen bouquet/maggi. Too salty? You overdid the soy sauce; add more carrots and a bit of chilli powder to hide it from the people you're serving it to. You'll know, at least, for the next time.

#Jake cooks a thing #Three Kingdoms Chicken

[rendy-a]

Cooking with Trey

This is the first story for my 50 follower event. I hope you enjoy it! ;)

Ever since the resident baker of Heartslabuyl has caught your eye, you’ve gotten much more interested in cooking.  Just seeing the picture-perfect desserts served at the frequent Unbirthday Parties you are invited to makes you eager to try out your own hand at cooking.  You also can’t help but imagine the look of approval on Trey’s face when you hand him a homemade tart of your own.

At least that was the plan.  Turns out there is a long way to go before you have the skills needed to make such a thing.  The first time you tried making one back at your Ramshackle kitchen, well best not think of it.  Not even Grim would eat it and he is known for eating rocks off the floor…

It’s been a few weeks since then and you are improving but still, you don’t have anything you’d be willing to present to someone else yet.  You are lost in thought, wandering your way to class while thinking about where you might try to tweak your recipe, when a voice calls out to you.  “Prefect, I didn’t know you had an interest in baking,” Trey says while adjusting his glasses.  “Baking! No…I mean yes…I mean why do you say that?” you ask in a flurry.  He gives you a small chuckle and says, “Perhaps I can read your mind.”  You give him a look back that says ‘Senpai, I know better than to fall for your tricks by now’ and he chuckles before gesturing to your sleeves.  “Or maybe it was the flour.”

You embarrassingly start patting at your sleeves, trying to shake the tell-tale powder off.  “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m baking per say.  More like attempting,” you tell him with a rueful grin.  “Not going well, huh?” Trey comments.  “Well, why don’t I stop by tonight and give you a hand.  You may have heard but I’m somewhat skilled with baking.”  You give him a mirthful look and say, “You know I may have heard that.  Ok, if you are going to offer, who am I to turn away my senpai’s advice?” 

That is how you found yourself in your current position, ensconced behind the counter island of Ramshackle, having a private cooking lesson with Trey.  You feel like you are learning a lot but, more than that, you are enjoying being in Trey’s company.  He has a humorous side about him that seems to come out more easily when he cooks.  The banter puts you at ease and you even start to joke back with Trey.  Its more fun than you remember having in the kitchen for a long time.

Then there is the other benefit.  When Trey rolls back his sleaves to show you how to knead your dough, you realize just how built he is from life in a bakery.  You’d like to say you weren’t shamelessly ogling his forearms as you watched him press and pull at the dough but really, you know you were.  When you look up and catch his eye, he grins at you.  Guess you weren’t the only one who noticed, you discover as a fluster crosses your face.

You clear your throat and turn aside.  “Ahem!  I’ll just go grab the pan for this,” you say before scurrying away.  You spend longer than needed “searching for the pan” to give yourself time to get your expression back under control.  When you return to your cooking station, you notice Trey has retrieved your bowl of filling and set it next to a bottle of oyster sauce. 

“Ha, not this time Clover!” you declare.  “Did you really think I’d fall for the same old trick twice?”  He smiles at you with a mischievous expression.  “Oh, is that so?  I guess I’ll have to think up some new tricks then.”  He approaches you while holding your gaze, tilts his head a bit to the side and reaches toward you.  He brings his hand to your cheek and runs his thumb up your cheekbone while your heart pounds madly.  You lean in unconsciously and your eyes start to drift shut when he unceremoniously tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and laughs. 

“Was that not what you were expecting, Prefect?” Trey asks with a smirk on his face.  You aren’t sure whether you want to kiss him or kill him.  What a tease.

#50 follower event #twst wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #trey clover #trey clover x reader