#[ who would willingly hang out with this creep LMAO ]

[jokersmild]

        @twilightgifted​, can you hear those slay bells jingling ?

  “Aren’t you just the cutest thing !” He coos affectionately, resisting the temptation to pinch the little girl’s cheeks. “Say, I could use a helper like you. I’m looking for a good present for my girl, and you look like you have pretty similar tastes. Whaddya say ?  If you help me out, I’ll get you some uh... coffee or whatever it is the kids these days like.”

[jemej3m]

Please please keep writing that radio host Andreil fic. It was so amazing already thank you

you demand and i supply lmao (slight nswfish warning? lol its just mentioned in passing yall know my ace ass is no good with that)

here’s p.1

*

Andrew didn’t want to come across as eager, but -

Talking with Neil had felt natural. Too natural. And thrilling. God, Andrew didn’t realise his heart could still go that fast. The idea of the music accidentally being cut and his voice being projected out into the world created a false sense of enthrallment that had his pulse stuttering.

Andrew’s fingers itched for his phone as he drove home the next day. How old was Neil? What did he look like? How’d he find himself hosting a midnight show on a shitty Colombian radio station? He seemed like such an enigma, too big for this awfully tiny place.

The way Andrew was waxing about him was foreign and disturbing. He’d never met this man: He had no clue what he looked like, who he was outside of his work, what kind of morals he had.

Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was just his damned voice.

Either way, Andrew found himself calling the same number, all over again. The phone balanced on his knee as he drove.

“It’s Neil from Mid-Nights, what are your thoughts on the rise in crime in Columbia?”

“Any interesting opinions, as of yet?” Andrew inquired, both genuinely curious (something he wasn’t familiar with) and superficially bored.

“None, as of yet.” The presenter answered.

“Shame.” Andrew drawled.

“I recognise this voice.” Neil answered. “You called me last night, didn’t you? Andrew. I remember.”

“Well done.” Andrew said, letting his tone fall flat. “Would you like an award?”

Neil snorted. “I’d like for callers to remain on topic whilst using up a line, but we can’t all get what we want. We can talk for another two minutes, but it’ll cost you a genuine opinion.”

“Fine.” Andrew grunted. “An ideal government would strive for balanced reputation in order to achieve equitable living standards for its citizens. When everything is balanced, there’s no need for crime.”

“Well - ” Neil coughed. “Theoretically.”

“Theoretically.” Andrew echoed.

“What, was that your thesis?”

“I have a doctorate in communications and criminology, so, pretty much.”

“The hell you doing, driving home at this hour every night with qualifications like that?” Neil asked, almost gentle.

Andrew hated the idea that this stranger pitied him. It made his skin feel too tight, made his body pull taut with tension as his teeth ground together. That was none of Neil’s business, and Andrew thought he should know. “You should get off your fucking high horse, Midnighter. You’re no better than me.” Hanging up was satisfying, but Andrew still felt a little hollow.

He didn’t need random radio presenters reminding him of his shortcomings. He had his family for that.

Neil’s music continued to play softly in the background. Another playlist worthy track. Petty and bitter, Andrew ignored it and shoved his fist into the radio’s controls, turning off the station entirely.

*

Neil leant into the microphone and hoped Andrew could hear his grin.

“To the man who hung up on me last night, fuck you too.” Neil’s voice was too playful to be interpreted as serious. Or so he hoped. “My high-horse had its legs chopped off years ago. I was complimenting you, asshole.”

No one would understand him, but it was alright. He was known for angering people.

Half an hour later, as though Andrew had remained in the driveway listening to the show and deciding whether or not to call up, the phone began to rang. Neil picked it up - too enthusiastically, really - and brought it to his ear.

“It’s Neil from Mid-Nights, how are you?”

“Jack-ass.” Andrew answered. “I don’t need no compliments. Stick to what you’re good at: Being an asshole.”

The dial-tone of being hung-up on (again) made Neil grin.

*

It’d been two weeks. Andrew had run through most of his call credit, seeing as he rarely used it in the first place. The conversations were never longer than a few minutes, but the fragmented moments strung together and formed something so rare, so niche, that Andrew had to wonder at himself: What in fuck’s name did he think he was doing?

“I hope this’ll help wake you all from your long-drive stupors.” Neil’s voice, deceptively sweet, laughed into the microphone. “Nothing like some solid distortion solos to get you feeling alive. Oh, and I’m expecting a call. You know who you are.”

“Asshole.” Andrew grunted, cocking his head to the side as he pulled up at a red light. 

Black in Black started blasting from his speakers, unintentionally. Andrew scoffed, squashing down the remnants of his grin, and rolled down the windows. 

He didn’t call Neil till the song had faded into something along the lines of Elton John, not wanting to give Neil the satisfaction of being at his beck and call. 

Neil paid him back the favour, almost letting the call ring out before snatching up the line on its last breath. 

“You’re getting stingy.” Neil complained. “I figured out you get off shift at three. Why the half an hour of time wasted?”

“Making you wait is half the fun.” Andrew rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a creep and go working out my schedule with too little knowledge and too good perceptions. It’s weird.”

“Observations keep me alive and kicking. You like my song choice?”

Neil queued another two songs after Bennie and the Jets so they could talk and Andrew didn’t even mind. He was sure he’d never willingly spent this much time with even his own family.

“You know,” Neil offered, a hint of hesitation in his voice that Andrew’d never heard before. “I could - uh, I could give you my -”

“Spit it out, Josten.”

He could hear Neil’s scowl. “I can’t if you keep interrupting me!” He let out a disgruntled huff. “Well, I just thought - maybe I could give you my personal number.” 

Andrew hummed. “For what purpose?”

“To get to know you better.” Neil said, the blunt confidence returning to his voice. “If that was something you’d be interesting. Or am I just a welcomed blip in the routine?” 

“Do whatever you want. I couldn’t care less.” Andrew lied. 

Neil laughed softly. “Goodnight, Andrew.”

“Night.” 

*

Andrew stood outside the staff entrance letting the smoke curl in his mouth before letting it seep out from between his lips. He’d always broken his breaks up into ten-minute chunks to keep up the flow of nicotine. No one usually spoke to him or acknowledged him. 

Usually. 

Roland, his consistent hook-up over the past six months, leaned against the door to keep it closed. Andrew could appreciate the low-cut sleeveless shirt and the arms folded across the man’s chest. Andrew had left bruises in the shape of his chain necklace when Roland asked him to: He knew Roland wanted something more permanent than what he was willing to give. 

“You’ve been distant.” Roland supplied. 

Andrew flicked ash in his direction, a warning in and of itself. Roland merely rolled his eyes and dropped his arms, opening his palms as an offer. 

That was how it always happened: They had five, ten minutes to spare. There was nothing better to do. Andrew was going through the motions: Going to work, serving drunk fuckwits, smoking in silence, giving Roland head to shut him up, repeat. 

When the other man gasped “We should go out to dinner some time,” Andrew pinched the skin of his thigh. Roland’s hand flew out to stabilise himself against the table-top, effectively hitting the small radio player that worked constantly. 

He must have knocked the frequencies, because Neil’s pearlescent laughter filled the room and Andrew had never felt more disgusted: In himself, in this, in everything. The visceral hatred for his existence was only a glimmer, a fragmented moment, but it was enough to have him stumbling away, shoving his hands through his hair and digging his fingers into his temples. 

“Andrew?” Roland managed. 

“I’m going home.” He snapped, shoving his hands into his pockets. He found his phone and his keys, slamming the staff-entrance door behind him. 

Sitting in the driver’s seat, he looked at his phone again. Looked at the text from an unknown number that he’d read but not answered. 

hey this is neils number. 

He swallowed against the cotton wad in his throat and typed out an answer. when do you finish? 

neil was quick to respond. four am every morning. aren’t you still on shift? 

Andrew rested his forehead against the steering-wheel and tried to ignore the way his heart raced. left early. 

Neil took over five minutes to answer. Andrew didn’t want to turn on the radio and hear his voice, so he waited. His patience was rewarded a little while later. 

bring me coffee? black, no sugar, no milk. itd be nice to finally see you. 

Andrew shoved down the desire to smile instinctively, hating the unfamiliar twitch to his lips. with a coffee order like that, i’d rather run for the hills. 

shame. Neil answered. see you soon? 

Andrew was a goner, shoving his keys into the ignition as he typed out a hasty reply. 

yeah. see you soon.

*

:DDD

[obaewankenope]

i adore aziraphqle taking care of crowley so much, touch starved demon boy needs snuggles

Okay so, this has gotten away from me and it’s not really Snuggles so much as feels lmao but, yeah, enjoy!

.

“Honestly angel, there’s no- no need todo this,” Crowley says even as he willingly burrows in the blankets and pillowsthat are far too numerous to be anything other than miraculously conjured. “I’mfine.”

“You’re not fine, Crowley,” Aziraphaleadmonishes, insistent and unyielding as he continues to guide Crowley beneaththe blankets and against the pillows. “You almost had one of your wings rippedclean off, Crowley—that’s not fine.”

The angel gently reaches out with hisown wings—not in the physical plane—and brushes them against Crowley’s skin, silkenwhite primaries that create every colour in the cosmos prickling with Soft FeelingsCrowley doesn’t want to name. The sensation is welcome even if he won’t admitit to Aziraphale.

“Eh, I didn’t though,” Crowley pointsout and he’s mostly just arguing for the sake of it now. He is really, reallycomfortable. There’s heat emanating from Aziraphale’s hands on him and thereptilian part of his being wants to curl up in those hands and bask in thewarmth for eternity. The part of him that’s less reptilian enjoys the feel ofthe hands in general. “Still got me wings. They even wiggle still.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes at Crowley’sattempt at humour, focusing instead on undoing the buttons to Crowley’s shirt.The demon all but leaps out of the bed at that.

“Aziraphale!”

The angel blinks. “What?” he asks, “youdon’t want to constrict your wings if they come into being on this plane,” hesays, blinking at Crowley with some measure of impatience and concern.

“I- my- they’re not affected by myclothing!” Crowley manages to splutter, sounding more startled than aVictorian lady faced with a lewd comment for the first time.  

“Not normally no,” Aziraphale agreesreasonably, like a reasonable person. “But you know that injuries to our wingscan cause them to—that is—‘act out’ so to speak.” He gives Crowley thatreasonable look of his that accompanies his reasonable tone. “You don’t want tobe sound asleep and have yourself almost choked or a shirt ruined because yourwings decide to ignore typical etiquette and get themselves tangled in yourshirt—do you?”

It really was very annoying thatAziraphale could make things sound so reasonable... it was meant to beCrowley’s job—making anything sound like a reasonable plan or idea, notAziraphale��s. Bloody angel was stealing his job.

“Fine,” Crowley says. “Fine,” he saysagain, “but—just let me take the damned thing off okay?”

“Of course dear.”

Oh, that was not helping. That wasseriously not helping.

Crowley struggles with the buttons ofhis shirt—having to undo them the human way since any sort of miracling ormagicking things away too close to where his wings come into being on the humanplane would be... probably a bad idea. Painfully bad. Because of that, it takesCrowley an embarrassingly long time to undo the buttons before he realises,rather belatedly, that he can’t just shrug the shirt off like he could donormally.

Bugger.

“Angel, I need help,” Crowley mutters.Aziraphale looks at him only a little smugly and it helps to soothe the stingof having to ask for help after insisting he didn’t need any. 

“Of course my dear,” Aziraphale saysand Crowley blushes. He can feel it creeping into his cheeks, staining hisrather pale face with just enough pink to be noticeable and Crowley curses thathe can’t do anything to hide it. 

Hell, he doesn’t even have his sunglasseson.

Aziraphale helps him remove his shirtwith little fanfare, Crowley doing most of the panicking and internallyscreeching at the angel Removing His Shirt for them both. The angel is, ifCrowley were forced to pick a word, steady. Steadily focused. Steadily calm.Steadily kind.

Crowley finds it nauseating.

Crowley wants more of it regardless.

“Thanks angel,” Crowley mutters, notstammering or blushing like he feels he ought to—he’s a demon, he won’t do thateven if he feels like every part of him is doing precisely that—and he settles back in the bed, letting Aziraphalemother hen him with the covers. “If you wanted to see me with my shirt offthough,” he adds, choosing to take some control over this, “you only had toask.”

Aziraphale—as Crowley expects—blushes.It makes Crowley’s lips quirk up into a smirk at the angel’s pink cheeks.

Of course, that’s when Aziraphale doessomething Crowley doesn’t expect.

The angel sits on the bed in a way thatenables him to easily reach out and touch Crowley’s cheek with his left hand,right perched on the angel’s own knee. Aziraphale’s face is still pink from blushingbut there’s fondness there in that expression—it’s the kind of fondness apartner has for their significant other (or others) when their love is secureand steady and needs no real expressions of it although they are appreciated.

“You really ought to be more carefulwith yourself, Crowley,” Aziraphale admonishes softly, fingers trailing alongCrowley’s jawline, tracing the shell of an ear before finding their way intoshort red strands. Crowley, against every ounce of his stubborn will, leansinto the touch.

“I’m always careful,” Crowley responds,not pulling away from those fingers gently massaging small circles into hisscalp. The sensation is—well—heavenly. “You’re the one who almost got his headlopped off in Paris over crepes.”

Aziraphale smiles. “True,” he agreesamicably. “But I’ve never picked a fight with a human-made demon and almost hada wing torn off because I didn’t want for backup to arrive.”

Crowley gives Aziraphale a look. “Notthe same,” he says but Aziraphale’s gentle fingers rob him of any true vitriol.The angel robs him of a lot of things. “It was spitting hellfire left andright, angel. One ember and you’d have been in far worse shape than I am.”

“And with holy water I would have beenable to stop it from attacking you in the first place, dear,” Aziraphale replies.There’s a bit of a sharp rebuke in the angel’s words but it’s softened bywhatever Aziraphale’s actions are doing to both of them.

“I was afraid, Crowley,” the angeladmits, eyes locking with Crowley’s own and full of pain. Pain Crowley’s circumstanceshave caused. “I arrived and saw you wrestling with that thing and you werebleeding and bloodied and I was terrified that I wasn’t going to be quickenough with the counter spell to unmake that thing before it finished you off.I saw you with a wing hanging by a few feathers and a broken bone and I- it- Ifeared I’d lose you even if that beast didn’t kill you.”

“I’m tougher than any human demon,angel,” Crowley says.

“That’s not the point!” Aziraphale exclaims and he leans forward, face close toCrowley’s own, his upper body almost flush with Crowley’s own. The demon can feelthe heat emanating from the angel and he has the strongest urge to arch up intoit.

“You are incredibly strong and powerfuland I am so thankful for that because anyone else would have perished longbefore I even arrived,” he says and Crowley’s eyes widen at the compliments—Aziraphaledoesn’t tend to compliment his strength, rather his ‘acts of kindness’. “Butyou were injured and I couldn’t help you fight it because I didn’t know how to fight it with you right there anddistracting you could have gotten you killedso I had to watch and hope thecounter spell would work!”

Aziraphale tears his gaze away fromCrowley who instantly reaches out with a slightly trembling hand to touch theangel’s own face. His fingers aren’t as gentle, as divinely caring, but there’sa heat to his touch that speaks of more than just the hellfire he can summon oncommand.

“I’m sorry angel,” he says, givingAziraphale an apology with more heart and feeling in it than he’s ever givenanything—not even She has ever had such an apology from Crowley, this is forAziraphale and Aziraphale alone. “I didn’t want you to fight it, not when it couldhave killed you with one breath.”

Aziraphale lets out a shudderingbreath, eyes falling shut. The angel looks so very broken and Crowley aches ina way he hasn’t ached for anything that wasn’t his car, his plants, or thissingle angel. “I know,” Aziraphale whispers, “it makes it worse. You would havedied just to prevent any harm befalling me and I- I would have been left-”Aziraphale breaks off with a hitched breath.

“Alone.” Crowley stares at Aziraphalewith open pain. “I know how it feels, angel,” he says, voice breaking. Aziraphaleopens his eyes and looks at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry but there wasno way I was going to let you face that thing and I’m sorry I can’t regretfighting it and keeping it away from you,” Crowley says and he’s making anadmission, confessing to the angel just how much he means to Crowley. In words heboth says and doesn’t. “I’d rather my wings torn off and my soul destroyed thansee you hurt- than lose you again.”

Aziraphale lets out a sad, aching laugh.“As would I,” he says.

“But,” Crowley continues and the angelgives him a vaguely hopeful look. “I’ve hurt you with what I did and that—well—wecan’t have that,” he says and Aziraphale gives him a small smile. “So how abouta deal—another Arrangement? We fight together no matter what, yeah?”

Crowley holds out the hand onAziraphale’s arm and the angel’s smile grows wider, eyes a little wet as hewithdraws his hand from Crowley’s hair to clasp the hand in a firm shake.

“Deal.”

“Great, now get in this bed with me andkeep me warm,” Crowley says and Aziraphale really does let out a laugh at that.

“Always so bossy, dear,” the angel sayseven as he stands and moves to the other side of the bed. He toes off his shoesand settles on the bed, allowing Crowley to nestle close to him. “You reallyought to get a heater.”

“I’ve got one,” Crowley retorts.Aziraphale gives him a look and Crowley smirks. “You.”

[rowbeana]

sometimes i have dreams and then remember them post #16

hoo boy...

so i think the very start, the original premise, was that my dad and i and my uncle and someone(s) else were taking evan back to school basically? but as always, he went to a diff made up uni in my dream. one of the other people with us was a former (again, probs fictional) snl cast member bc....ok

anyways along the way we stop because my dad has to go get something?? idk, he’s acting weird, but whatever. there’s this fancy little gelato shop where we parked and my uncle is like well i’m going to go get some gelato and i was like ME TOO THEN?? so me, him and evan go and i’m looking at cones and fsr chris parnell is there? i know it’s bc my mom and i were just talking about him before i went to sleep but still

i say something really weird to him as he’s leaving, like “good work, parnell!” and he stops bc that was weird and i get all stressed i’m like sorry that was-- it’s just like i know someone-- i’m unable to form a sentence but it’s okay bc the snl cast member who is either in my fam or a family friend comes in and suddenly there’s a big snl reunion bc there are all these other cast members there?? makes no sense ur right

this is important to note: this town is fuckin weird ok

then, and idk how at all, but our car is just a bunch of people, mainly muscly type guys, hanging out waiting for my dad. suddenly it’s a convertible so this is somewhat feasible. but eventually like two hours pass so i’m concerned and we gotta go.

i call my dad and i don’t really hear anything so i’m like dad?? dAD????? and i’m stressed. suddenly i can hear like. sketchy sex noises and i’m like wtf but i can tell something is super wrong so i’m not like grossed out i’m just scared. then i can hear my dad way way in the bg like someone else answered his phone to creep me out bc he’s being held captive!! and i’m like DAD...WHERE ARE YOU. and i hear him say something but it’s so quiet i dont really make it out then the person hangs up. in the dream this took a lot longer which was stressful.

so omfg i literally call back LOL so i can hear the name again then i hang up. i still only remembered the last name and i knew what it meant but i was hella stressed so i forgot. i end up asking someone in the town like “idk where my dad was all i heard was the last name newman” or s/t and she’s like. oh he lives at the horne mansion

and yes, the horne mansion is literally where benjamin horne from twin peaks and his fam live and he is as sketchy and bad as in the original run. there are a lot of villains in twin peaks but he’s the one who owns the hotel/lodge and the sketchy strip club with underage girls. so i’m like. fuck! i’m really dumb bc this house is literally across from where we are parked. i gather my new muscly male pals and tell them we gotta save my dad.

BUT THEN, ELSEWHERE, I HAVE A SIMULTANEOUS DREAM. where, while we were still innocently waiting in the car, this guy i used to have a crush on and is kind of like a family friend comes by to say hello and i learn he’s recently married and he has a daughter but i think she’s his step daughter bc she’s like four or five. and i’m like (: that’s great

idk how but now jacqui has a crush on him and i was supposedly over him so i’m like hey whatever + he’s married anyways + jac has a bf lol. and, again, this bf is fictional. can’t really remember but i think he had dark curly hair and a beard? he was like a young oscar isaac maybe.

anyways, fsr we are just pretty sure his marriage won’t last so we don’t really care. idk if jac said something to him at some point but we are at this comically large department store and i see him at the register so i tell jac and she runs away and it’s my job to keep tabs on him, although he is literally just gonna buy his thing and leave. also jac’s bf was in line for the register too which i suspect was the real issue of running away but it was still weird

so i gotta go track down jac and tell her he’s left now. not sure when other than car, but i guess i talk to the guy at some point bc cut forward to me receiving a letter from him. it’s like three pages front and back but in my dream i only have time to read the first page. i remember the beginning of the letter kind of but um it’s embarrassing lol so.

i don’t read any farther bc i only notice the other pages after, like they weren’t originally meant to be part of the letter? i don’t read them bc jac walks up and i’m like oh i got this letter from him it’s super long and jac is like oh (: i think i said his marriage seemed rocky or maybe i kept that to myself bc suddenly we were walking down some stairs and i could tell jac was annoyed/upset and i was like. well, just as a reminder, this dude kissed me ages ago while i was dating someone else which i think we can all agree is bad. so he’s not like That great

but by this point i’m ofc like well i’m single NOW lol so boy should date me. i guess that’s the more complicated backstory we had, like we mutually were interested but at the time i also loved the bf i had so????

anyways, somehow i think this is where the other storyline converges. i go to the creepy big ass horne estate and there’s some kind of party happening but i’m just here to rescue my dad. as i only vaguely know, my dad and mr. horne have some kind of beef or shady history together. i guess he came here willingly to talk about something but then he was taken prisoner pm

there’s kind of a reception area at this place lmao but i ask a lady who seems to be a nanny or a maid if audrey is home and she says yes. and i’m like well i’m a friend (this is true. how did i become friends with benjamin horne’s daughter if he hates my dad? idk!!) and i want to see her so nanny lady goes up the stairs but when she comes back she says audrey wasn’t in her room or she’s not coming down or w/e and i’m like. fuck bc she could help me the most but. i just smile and i’m like well that’s okay i’ll wait for her. at this point she’s def my best bet for a) finding my dad and b) successfully helping his escape

meanwhile, darren criss (why not) walks out from between these curtains that lead to a theatre bc in my dream the hornes own a theatre that actual famous people perform at sometimes. and rn darren is there for a few weeks but he doesn’t seem to love it (bc this place is sketchy as hell) bc he walks out looking at the ground with like his face covered maybe people are always wanting to get his autograph or whatever.

so i’m like. “darren. Darren. daRREN” bc off camera we have met and we have a past where we get along and are pals so i’m like. practically forced to body slam him so he looks at me and i’m like “great i need your help” and i loop my arm through his and pull him towards, somehow, a little gift shop type store that exists at the front of the house. previously, when i stormed in i didn’t have my muscly guy but some gals my age and i had a sweater and something else i was looking at and they hid them??? they’re bitches as if i need this rn when i’m just trying to save my damn dad. idk, it was weird, darren was helping me look although this was clearly not the priority of the moment. i’m also like forgetting about that other guy bc darren is right there and would be much easier to date

anyways, did we find the sweater? did we save my dad???? who knows bc it was 3pm so i woke tf up.