#I’m working on drawing him with out references

[humbledragon669]

S2E3 - I Know Where I'm Going Write Up P1 - up to the credits (present day)

Tiny bit of trivia about me that I’m sure nobody really cares about - as of Christmas just gone, I own my own version of Jim’s mug. It’s definitely one of the top three presents I got (one of the others is a GO themed long-sleeved t-shirt), and I absolutely have been using it to drink hot chocolate out of. I LOVE it.

Anyway, it’s Easter egg time! Yeah, that’s right, this one appears right at the beginning of the episode. And I suspect that many people will already have noted this one, but as I’ve said before, you never know. So here it is:

That’s the music instrument shop across the road from the bookshop, called “Arnolds”, presumably for the soundtrack composer for Omens - David Arnold. Obvious though it may be, it’s a bit “blink-and-you’d-miss-it”, so I felt like it was worth drawing attention to, just to reiterate the level of care and attention on display in this show that we all know and love. And whilst I have my attention-to-detail hat on, I have a brief point of speculation to make about Jim’s location in this opening shot. Given his view across the street, and the limited view we get into the room behind him (I’m thinking mostly about the lamp you can just about make out over his shoulder), this would appear to be Jim’s bedroom. In front of him is a tray with his mug and a container of hot chocolate on it. There’s even a trail of hot chocolate powder in between the mug and the container, as if someone has been a bit careless when spooning the cocoa from the pot into the cup (no judgement, I do this ALL the time). Before breaking away from this shot, we see Jim pouring boiling water into the mug from an electric kettle. All perfectly understandable actions for a set-up to show a man looking out over his neighbourhood, right? So my speculation is this, and I am jumping ahead a little. Why is it necessary for Crowley to leave the room when offering to make Jim a cup of hot chocolate in a later episode? It would seem that all the equipment required is right there in Jim’s bedroom. Sounds like another instance of scriptual convenience to me, albeit a small one. Anyway, enough pedantry, let’s move on.

It's taken me ages, but I’ve worked out what the music is playing in the background of the coffee shop. Unsurprisingly it’s another Queen tune - “Radio Ga Ga” this time. Given the lyrics, which speak of a fond farewell to a medium that no longer has relevance given more modern offerings, I wonder if this might be a reference to the state of Nina’s relationship with Lindsey at this point? Aside from that potential insight, I can’t really say there’s an awful lot about this scene that I like. Obviously Nina is still being her unlikeable self (checking her phone whilst she’s in the middle of serving someone? Not being funny, I would genuinely walk out of a coffee shop if a barista did that to me), but now we’re “introduced” to another fairly abrupt character, but this time we don’t even learn her name. Poor Mrs. Sandwich, she turns out to be an incredible likeable addition to the show, but in my opinion, she really doesn’t get to shine here. And what’s the point of this scene really? So that we can get a long shot of Muriel’s arrival and have it hammered home that their appearance is visible and noted as odd by the people in Whickber Street? If that’s the case, honestly this whole scene feels pretty unnecessary, but perhaps that’s just me.

Now. I did a little bit of digging about the way that Muriel introduces themself, because this stereotype is familiar to me, but I have no idea where it comes from. There’s a lovely bit of hive mind research been done here, which suggests the origin of the phrasing is over 100 years old but personally my money is on this being a nod to Monty Python (as detailed in that forum post), particularly as it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen a Python reference in the show (NIAT RUC, I’m looking at you). I think there might be another little homage here though, and this one if a bit more niche. It’s to do with the whistling in the soundtrack, heard here:

It rang bells with me, and unlike the backing music in the coffee shop earlier, this one didn’t actually take me very long. Back in the mid-90s, there was a sit-com show here in the UK called The Thin Blue Line, which followed the personal and professional lives of a group of policemen from an English town. The policemen in question were of both the uniformed (commonly called “bobbies”, or “on-the-beat”) and non-uniformed variety. Muriel is most definitely dressed as one of the former. Here’s the theme tune from that show:

Not too dissimilar, are they? I couldn’t find any evidence for whether the theme we hear in the Omens soundtrack is an homage to the theme from The Thin Blue Line or not. Perhaps it wasn’t even a conscious thing, though I highly doubt that. I would so love it if this was an intentional reference to that little copper comedy from the 90s - it ran for only 2 seasons, but I remember watching every episode when it aired and finding the whole thing really funny. I don’t know how well it will have aged, but I do remember that (bearing in mind this was the mid-90s) its casting was progressive - an Asian woman and a gay man both playing lead roles and part of the police force, with the characters most commonly ridiculed for being wrong and unreasonable being the middle-aged white men.  It was perhaps a little slapstick in places, and intrinsically “British” in its humour, but I still feel like it was a delightful addition to our televisions, so if this is a tip-of-the-hat to the show, I feel it’s well placed. Right, time to move on, this is supposed to be a write up of a Good Omens episode, not an appreciation post for long-dead British TV shows.

It's pretty difficult to say with any certainty, but I don’t think Aziraphale recognises Muriel when they arrive. Granted, he wouldn’t have seen or spoken to them in quite some time (since his defection from Heaven at the latest, though the only time we see them interacting is in the Uz flashbacks), but given the conversation he had with them during the Job debacle, you’d think he might at least realise he’d seen their face before? Particularly given the memories he has so recently lived through. Don’t get me wrong, he clearly knows they’ve come from Heaven, but that outfit pretty much gives the game away on that front, and he has been told to expect a visit from an auditor. Doesn’t take him long to decide to play along either.

I really love this moment - I’m pretty sure that this is where he decides not only to pretend he doesn’t know Muriel is there to check up on his miracle claims, but to be gentle about his interactions with them. He's recognised the joy that Muriel is getting out of the situation and decided that the nicest thing to do will be to let them enjoy the ride, which can only happen if the pretence is maintained. Subtle as it is, I actually think this is one of Aziraphale’s clearest indications of his Good nature - faced with a similar situation, many people (Crowley included, as we’ll come to see shortly) would openly mock Muriel for their apparent lack of intelligence, and given their visit’s true purpose I don’t think anybody would have been too displeased if Aziraphale had just closed the door in their face. It’s such a selfless act of kindness, and in not shunning Muriel, we are treated to some truly beautiful comic moments throughout the rest of the season.

Oh hold up. Was I just waxing lyrical about how kind and considerate this angel is? I take it all back. I almost feel like Crowley has suggested this to him, it’s that mischievous. And not the first time he’s done it either, except the last time he tricked another angel into sullying their body with a liquid intended for human consumption, that being was suffering from complete amnesia. Vulnerable you might say. Which is actually not that dissimilar to Muriel, who is clearly in a very precarious position and not doing a particularly good job of hiding their discomfort and mild panic in trying to maintain their cover whilst staying in character. He even manages to sound as if he’s trying to coach them on proper human responses with no hidden subtext. At least he has enough of a conscience to show pity for his visitor and the position he’s put them in:

Bit of a tangent here - why doesn’t Aziraphale recognise that the fact that Crowley is bringing his plants into the bookshop gives the game away that he’s living in his car? Don’t get me wrong, I am in no doubt that the reason Crowley removes them from the car at all is because he wouldn’t trust anybody else to look after them, not even his angel, so I do understand the reason for them to be removed. As far as I can see, there are four possibilities for this:

Aziraphale doesn’t make the connection between Crowley having his plants in the car and what means for his living situation.

Aziraphale does make the connection but, perhaps due to the current awkward situation panning out in the bookshop and his plans for his Edinburgh road trip, doesn’t mention anything about.

Aziraphale already knows that Crowley is sleeping in his car.

Crowley isn’t really living in his car at all, and the plants are simply kept there to maintain the cover story.

I think Aziraphale is smarter than the first option, even with his innate inability to pick up on Crowley’s cues. And I can’t really comprehend that Aziraphale would have taken the revelation that Crowley is living and sleeping in his car without any sort of protestations (let’s not forget that Crowley openly offered Aziraphale a place to stay when they thought the bookshop was gone, and that was before their respective defections). The third possibility has legs, but it doesn’t sit right with me - I just can’t see that Aziraphale would tolerate this living situation for Crowley, even if it meant buying or renting a place somewhere else for the demon to call home. The last of those possibilities is where my head canon lives, as I think I’ve mentioned in previous write ups. We’ll see Aziraphale “reacting” to the confirmation that Crowley has been sleeping in his car in a future episode, so I’ll hammer this point home one last time when we get there. And regardless whether you agree with my ideas or not, you can’t deny that Crowley’s confident swagger when he bursts into the shop really goes to show just how comfortable he is in this environment, and that he has no qualms about asserting himself there. Almost like it was home in fact…

See? No problems asserting himself at all. The subtext here is pretty glaring - his joining Aziraphale gives a clear message to Muriel about the fact that they’re a team (a group. A group of the two of them), and despite the fact that there surely must be A LOT of body contact going on here, Aziraphale’s expression doesn’t change at all. Not a muscle moved. It feels to me as if this is the sort of close proximity contact that the two of them are very accustomed to when not in the presence of other beings that might see it for what it is. And not only is Crowley comfortable with his position, he’s really enjoying himself:

I’ve mentioned it before, about us not getting to see much of Crowley’s mischievous side in the present day in this season, but this is it on full display. I’m not sure why I love more about this interaction with Muriel - Crowley’s cheeky grin or the fact that Aziraphale does absolutely nothing to reprimand him over his behaviour. That angel is having just as much fun partaking in the mischief as Crowley is, and I find it really adorable to see him indulging his playful side, even if it does eventually result in another one of those pitiful compassionate looks he throws Muriel’s way.

There’s a potentially interesting use of pronouns in the conversation that follows in the back room:

Interesting, see? Crowley refers to Heaven as “your lot”, despite the fact that Aziraphale has openly admitted that he no longer works for them. Not only that, the angel takes the baton up with his reply, grouping himself together with his former workplace using the “we” pronoun. Perhaps it’s just the habit of the previous multiple millennia, it just strikes me as odd, not least because Crowley’s questioning of them being “in charge” would appear to imply that he feels Heaven has the upper hand in the Heaven/Hell power play. Semantics aside, there’s something about this conversation that I really love. They’re both actually listening to one another, the tone is congenial, and they’re engaging in teamwork, and it all feels so natural. There’s no emotional stress going on, no arguing, just two people working together to try and achieve a common goal. I think this is probably the closest we come to seeing them in their normal relationship state, and it feels so relatable.

Well, it looks like Crowley’s plan has changed somewhat following his streetside conversation with Nina - now it needs a “fabulous kiss” for it to be successful. Considering his previous plan was so obviously a retelling of the love story between he and Aziraphale, I find the addition of a kiss at this point to be a notable one. Yes, my head cannon has our hero couple very firmly established in a relationship in the present day, but no, I do not believe that they kissed during either of the two “shelter-under-an-awning” moments that they have shared. Not to mention that I feel like there’s an element of heartbreaking foreshadowing going on with his throwaway comment (though to be fair, I don’t think there’s anything “fabulous” about that kiss in the Final 15, but I’m getting ahead of myself). What is it that makes him add the need for a kiss for his plan to be successful? Consulting my head cannon again, I suspect there might be some further revelations to be had about when he and Aziraphale shared their first kiss, and that this might tie into his updated plan somehow, but whether we’ll get to see that in the space of our final 90 minutes, I don’t know.

Oh I love this. Like, so much. It’s such a MARRIED COUPLE mini spat. It’s so obvious that Aziraphale takes the role of the stereotypical wife - there’s no negotiation, just the thinly veiled threat of extreme rage if his wishes aren’t complied with. And just as obvious is Crowley’s adoption of the stereotypical husband role - downtrodden, with the resigned knowledge that he’s been beaten and can’t worm his way out of a situation that whilst he knows he doesn’t like, he has no logical argument to counter. It’s so lovely. Beautifully delivered and excellently timed. The more I look into the episodes for this season, the more I seem to find that feels stilted and somewhat unnecessary, but moments like these are most definitely not one of them, and in fact I think they’re probably largely responsible for our intense love of the relationship between our hero couple. There’s another one coming up, but I’ll get there in a moment.

Despite being at the tail end of a spat, and that Aziraphale is clearly both disappointed and distracted not to have put his hands on the car keys, we’re about to see a lovely example of Aziraphale and Crowley showing a sixth sense for knowing their roles in the relationship. Regardless of the fact that there is no verbal communication between them following Muriel’s entrance to the room, Crowley knows instinctively that this is his cue to step up and perform a mini rescue, and Aziraphale knows to simply let him do his own thing. He doesn’t say a word once Muriel bursts in on them, just allows Crowley to do all the talking, with the instinctive knowledge that they will be in a better position soon. Which of course leads to this OUTRAGEOUS look from Aziraphale:

There it is, another one of those moments I was just discussing! I remember the first time I caught this look from Aziraphale, it was like a bomb had gone off in my head. It’s… well it’s pure filth, isn’t it? We all thought the look Crowley drew in the Bastille was the best example of a mental undressing we would ever see, but this just blows it out of the water. And why wouldn’t Aziraphale be feeling particularly enamoured of his demon at this point in time? There he is, doing his little rescue and invoking feelings of his knowledge of love (“love”?) at the same time. It’s pretty clear to see how much Crowley’s little speech has affected him, because he barely manages to catch the keys that the demon throws to him mere seconds later. He doesn’t even argue when Crowley continues to assert that the Bentley belongs to him alone, and even manages a wink, which I can only assume is supposed to be reassuring that he’s on the same wavelength about the current situation, and that he appreciates the olive branch just offered to him by way of Crowley’s accepting of the mission he’s been given.

Apart from a quick note to say that Aziraphale’s driving looks worse than Crowley’s, and that Crowley’s reaction to seeing his beloved car driving away speaks (to me, anyway) more of boredom than it does of worry or possessiveness, I think that’s all there is for this instalment, seeing as we’ve arrived quite neatly at the opening credits. As always, questions, comments, discussion: always welcome. See you for the next one!

[monsterbananatv-art]

Going insane over this little guy again so please enjoy this doodle

[tordoise-x3]

Just my drawigs from today cuz I haven’t been finishing anything 😞

[0m3n-0f-d3ath]

Me possessed by a triangle

The joke is that I would act normal possessed

@frayedcircus thanks for wanting to see this! Lamo hope ya like it<3

[syrupfog]

Being the captain means always being the one everyone turns to.

[ricky-mortis]

A portrait of Sir John Herschel because I‘m normal about Pulp Musicals

[afrophunk]

Was watching Game of Death the other day. Bruce Lee’s character is so funny and sassy(at least in the unreleased scenes), I just had to put my guy in this iconic pose to show my gratitude

He’s so right to do this for me specifically actually

[maliayukimura]

it’s not done yet, but I really like how a current wips are coming along and I kind of want to share them even though it’s not done yet. It’s supposed to be like one of the celebrity crush wallpaper collages that were super popular back in like 2012, but it’s made up of my own art of a specific character. Right now, I’m doing one for Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, and the two of them together.

Here’s the progress so far

I haven’t fully decided yet but I think once I’m done with the base collage, I’m going to go back and draw in hearts and emojis to put on top like stickers to really fit the vibe of the 2012 collages

[keepthyfaithandthylight]

“How many tears I saw him shed over the violence of the revolutionary government and over the prolongation of a dreadful regime, which he only aspired to temper with institutions.”

Once, when scrolling through the frev tag I saw a letter posted by @orpheusmori (if memory serves correctly) that was written by a friend of Saint Just. It’s lived in my mind for quite some time, and the final line is one that can really put my mind in a chokehold.

So, as a result.. I had to draw this. Why is it that I always draw when I need to be sleeping…

[crossbackpoke-check]

re last answer: please don't stop, being very unhinged about these two pretty white boys is helping distract me from the sharks losing streak rn so bring it on

https://www.tumblr.com/bondedpairs/764566430180147200?source=share

(sideblog woes but there's the link for you) anyway in the vid they talk about going over to each other's houses to have dinner and things and while that is a delicious example of their codependence i love it bc through an rpf lens there is definitely some old man ******* going on. they can have the dilfs and each other.

(someone else mentioned kept boys which i could write an essay on but i fear being Perceived™️)

anyway if you have anything to add to this please do, if not ignore me and i will hide under a rock until the stress-related insanity has worn off and i am a functioning member of society once more 😂

- @bondedpairs

ty for the video!!! and please, WRITE THE KEPT BOYS ESSAYYYY i promise i will read it with my hands over my eyes if you don’t want to be perceived. do it scared!! do it anyway!! we’ll all love you for it!!!

[lumiilys]

This is literally the most chaotic and out of order thing ever but DO YOU SEE MY VISION??? DO YOU SEE IT??!!

[goldensunset]

cheers to this guest lecturer for nearly giving me a heart attack making me think there was a paper due tomorrow that i hadn’t even heard about so i couldn’t focus the rest of the lecture and like rushed home and opened the site to find there was nothing at all

[sproouts-jpeg]

☆ ☆ ☆

OMG I FORGOT TO POST UUUUUUUUHHHH…

STRAWHAT POST TIME SKIP REDESIGN PART 2: NAMI

my very convoluted thought process! enjoy some word vomit! i was especially indecisive on her haircut and how to incorporate some glitz and glamour :/

she’s not as fancy (i.e. jewelry and expensive clothes) as i would’ve wanted her to be :( but i looove tomboy nami a lot so i still really like her outfit

the nami on the left is more of a restyling meant to stay pretty close to her canon design, just so that i could gauge what it was about her og look that i did and didn’t like :0

i’m a little angry at myself for keeping the bikini bra, cause i’ve seen really cool nami designs that aren’t blatantly “sexy” and make her a cooler outfit with a garment other than a bra. but also! she’s chubby! she’s transfem! she’s a lesbian! she’s a criminal! let her be sexy! for the ladies! and for herself! that’s cheesy but idk that’s my thoughts on it

i also think the teal aviator jacket is pretty ingenious! i guess i kinda wanted to give her a similar vibe to kiki from kiki’s delivery service. like how kiki’s both a mail delivery girl and a witch, and now nami’s both a pilot and a witch! idk… does that make sense??? i just have this very vivid imagine in my brain of nami using the clima tact like a broom to fly… but that’s what zeus is for…? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ALSO REAL QUICK! COMPASS AND SQUARE PIN ON HER JACKET! IN NO WAY RELATED TO FREEMASONRY OR WHATEVER! THAT SYMBOL HAS A “G” IN THE MIDDLE! I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT FREEMASONRY IS I JUST FOUND OUT ABOUT IT RIGHT BEFORE POSTING THIS! ITS JUST A COMPASS AND SQUARE CAUSE SHES THE NAVIGATOR AND I THOUGHT IT WAS CUTE! ok psa over :D

zeus!! he’s silly!! but with a less stupid hat! maybe more stupid hat idk! :D

i’m gonna tweak everyone’s jolly roger a little bit to match my redesigns (maybe not zoro’s tho i like it as it is and matches him pretty well already… and definitely not luffy’s cause it’s the crew’s insignia)

uuuuuhhh i hope y’all like it! suggestions for making it better are appreciated!!

☆ ☆ ☆

[lordsukunas]

piggyback rides

synop: you want trueform!sukuna to give you a piggyback ride and he doesn’t know what it is. that’s it.

tags: fluffy fluff fluff, fem!reader (referred as woman once, refers to self as ‘queen’ and ‘wife’ once), ooc sukuna (only bc he’s less of an asshole), possessive behavior (kind of?), mentions of sukuna-typical violence, likely historically inaccurate, not proofread. i couldn’t determine whether or not he was actually wearing a haori or something similar - correct me if i’m wrong n i’ll change it!

notes: basic ass title ik... erm sorry! another post in two days is a miracle so i’m a little proud of myself. half-assed ending lol... anyway, this is just a silly lil drabble!! any interaction is much appreciated, enjoyyyy! :3

“what.”

the first set of crimson eyes dart down to look at you, the other set still tracking the scuttling servants. you’re situated quite snugly in his expansive lap — two thick arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his bare chest. “what the hell is that?”

you nibble the inside of your cheek to suppress a smirk. finally, you know something that sukuna does not! and it only took three years. “it’s where i get on your back and you carry me around. quite simple, truthfully.”

he snorts at the slight condescension in your voice. for something so agitating, you have quite the ego. “mm. and why should i do that for you? you can walk on your own, unless your legs are mysteriously broken all of a sudden.”

“because,” you say with a huff, “it’s fun. don’t you want to bond with your queen?”

anxious eyes of passing maids sneak glances at you, your little huff drawing their attention. sukuna shifts you in his lap, turning you to the side, and the massive sleeve of his robe moves to obscure your form from their undeserving gaze. “we have bonded enough.”

“and it would not hurt to bond some more!” you counter. sukuna’s stubbornness is something you absolutely adore about him, but not right now. “can the mighty king of curses not spare a moment of his day to entertain his wife’s wish?”

he falls silent at this, and you can practically see the gears churning in his big head. he’ll cave. if there’s one thing that’s undeniable about the sorcerer, it’s his curiosity.

“... fine,” he grunts. after scooping you up and setting you down, he stands up and gestures with his hand. “so how do we do it?”

your lips curve up into a smirk. “okay, turn around so that your back is facing me.”

sukuna turns around, folding one pair of arms over his chest.

“then, crouch down a little.”

a beat passes, and then he crouches down, back muscles flexing underneath the dark fabric of his haori.

you step up behind him and slide your arms around his neck. his adam’s apple bobs, and the other arms move to cradle your butt. “if this is an attempt to choke me, it isn’t work.”

he always thinks someone’s out to get him. you roll your eyes. “no. if i wanted to kill you, i likely would’ve attempted forever ago.” you lift your lower half onto the lower part of his back, and your legs wrap around his hips.

another beat passes. “is that it?”

“yep.”

sukuna adjusts you, his hold on you becoming more secure as he rights himself to his full height. the warmth of your breath ghosts across his ear, and he can smell the scented lotion you applied this morning.

why hadn’t he done this before?

“soooooo,” you drawl, and he can hear the smile in your beautiful voice without even having to look. you’re so close — he hears the little inhale before you speak, the nearly imperceptible huff of laughter once you finish. “what are you just standing here for? we gotta walk around, explore the estate! it’s not fun if we’re just stuck in one place.”

“i am not a servant,” he warns, voice gruff, but he starts to move towards the throne room’s exit anyway. anyone unfortunate enough bows, mutters a jumbled greeting to the both of you, and scrambles out of the way.

it’s no secret that sukuna is more... benevolent, when you’re around. but that is a double-edged sword — if someone dares to disturb your peace or inconvenience you in his presence, they’d be facing a swift death, along with their parents for giving birth to such vermin.

“apologies, my spectacular husband.” you lean forward a bit and press a kiss onto his cheek, leaving a faint lipstick stain. “now, please, venture forth.”

he rolls his eyes. “if you command me again, woman, i am going to sprint.”

the teasing lilt quickly disappears from your voice, and your arms tighten around his neck. “n-no, that isn’t necessary.”

sukuna’s pace increases, now a brisk jog instead of a leisure walk, and you can hear the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “oh? is it not?”

“it isn’t!” you squeak. a little embarrassing, yes, but you know how fast sukuna is — you’re positive that if he broke out into a full-speed run, you’d be sick by the end of it.

“let’s find out and see.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

LOVED the sit down fics. Please consider: US telling THEM to sit down. What are they going to do? Argue and sleep on the couch? (Love your works!! Always makes my day when I see a new one)

AHHHHHHHHH! ANON OMG! I love this. I giggled and kicked my feet the entire time I was working on these. I had so much fun jumping back into the Imagines Series after Kinktober with this prompt. While I'm still working through the 3.5k Spooky Bingo event, I am returning to my usual content.

For those curious, THIS is the fic that Anon is referring to.

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, suggestive themes, flirting, arguments, swearing

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“John. We have to talk about this.”

“We are talking.”

“No. We’re arguing. And you’re not listening.”

“Of course I’m listening, love.”

“Then what did I just say?” you ask, exasperated.

John opens his mouth and then pauses. He loses steam, the gears turning as he realizes he’s wrong. He takes a deep breath and then holds up his hands. “If I’m being honest, love—”

“Fuck. Sit down, John.”

Your tone is sharp, and John drops into a chair, completely silent, his gaze locked in on you.

“If you are not going to listen to me, then I’m ending this discussion. We can come back to this later. When we’re calm.”

John is always the steady one. He’s your rock, but for whatever reason, this one discussion has transformed into an argument.

There is silence after, and you have no idea what John thinks of your sudden authoritative demeanor. His face is blank, and then his mouth turns up into an amused smile.

“What?” you ask, suddenly flustered.

John relaxes into the chair, spreading his thighs wide in invitation. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re angry, love.”

“Don’t distract me, John,” you mutter, the irritation beginning to melt away.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"We're having this out," says Kyle, grabbing your upper arm. He tugs you against him, head tipping forward in an intimate gesture.

"I don't want to argue with you," you reply.

"And I'm not done." His tone is calm but firm. Whenever Kyle sets his mind to something, it can be difficult for him to change course.

"Well, I am." Kyle's hold on your upper arm tightens a bit. It's not painful, but he draws you closer. "Now, sit down."

"Wha—"

"Sit. Down."

Kyle draws back, startled. His hold loosens and descends to grasp your wrist as he sinks onto the sofa. You rarely assert yourself, but you're frustrated with him.

“I am done fighting about this. Either we find a compromise, or we end this discussion.” Kyle breathes deep, his gaze intense as you continue. “You can sleep out here if you won’t budge.”

“I sleep beside you,” replies Kyle.

“Then talk to me. Don’t push me around.”

Kyle’s hand on your wrist softens, his thumb gently caressing the inside of your palm. It makes you shiver, and Kyle pulls you closer. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, voice soothing.

"Can we talk now? No fighting?"

"No fighting," he agrees.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Irritation bubbles under your skin, creating a buzzing sensation that puts you on edge. You and Simon rarely fight but the two of you always circle back to the same issue.

“I’m sick of talking in circles. We have to figure this out.”

The corner of Simon’s mouth twitches. “I’ve already told you how I feel about it,” he says.

“I understand but we have to find a compromise.”

“I’m not willing to budge on this.”

“Simon—"

He pushes in, invading your space. “You’re the one that’s undecided.”

You hate being bossed around, and you hate it more when Simon flaunts his dominance during a disagreement.

“Sit down,” you growl.

Simon blinks, startled. “What?”

“Sit. Down.”

Simon’s gaze narrows, the middle of his brow creasing. But he sits, settling on the sofa.

“I understand how you feel but I need you to listen to how I’m feeling. This is a big decision, and I want us to talk through things. I’m not just going to bend over and take it.”

“But you like it when I bend you over.”

“Simon Riley!”

Simon smirks “Need to let out a little steam?”

“Yes,” you mutter, flustered. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Arguments with Johnny almost always end in sex.

He’ll use his tongue, his fingers, and then eventually his dick until you’re blissfully fucked out of your head.

“You are not distracting me,” you say sharply as Johnny moves in, a sly smile on his face.

His hands settle on your waist, gripping tightly. You know if you don’t get a handle on this now, you’ll be face down in the bed with ass in the air in moments. It’s Johnny’s favorite position.

Placing your hands on Johnny’s chest, you give him a bit of a shove, creating space. “Sit down, Johnny.”

Johnny’s eyebrows rise suggestively. With a sauntering sway, Johnny sits on the edge of the bed. He’s shirtless and wearing grey sweatpants. They hang dangerously low on his hips.

You cover your eyes. “We need to have a conversation that doesn’t end in sex.”

“I don’t see the issue.”

“Of course you don’t,” you mutter.

“I like it when you boss me around.” You can feel his heat just before his arms slide around you.

“Oh my God,” you groan, pushing at his chest. “Sit down.”

Johnny teasingly nips at your neck. “Only if you sit in my lap.”

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[azullumi]

"once more to see you" ; aventurine

summary — to him, love was like a religion waiting to be discovered and he’ll find god in the way the sun looks on your skin; alternatively, aventurine thinks he’s rotten work and tiring to take care of but not to you, not if it's him (please get the reference).

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship (but aventurine wants to de-establish it), somewhat fluff, slight angst with comfort, never proofread never what?!!, 1.3k ; ficlet

note — 2.1 broke me (the whole quest knocked at the door of my house, shook my hands, congratulated me, and invited itself into my home before pouring water on my face, slapping me, throwing me around, and left with the door open, all the while, my family watched). this is day 1 of writing for aventurine until i have him.

“you have a lot of moles.” his voice, despite a gentle whisper, tears through the silence of the night like a drop of water that ruptured and disturbed the surface of the pond. “especially here.” he gently taps on your skin; they seem like stars, he swallows the words back down. 

you feel aventurine’s finger trace on the back of your neck and the curve of your shoulders, seemingly drawing—or connecting something. it was ticklish, the way he gently drags his hand and ghosts over your skin, a soft laugh slipping past your lips (you’ll capture his touch on your skin as if you were a sinner remembering how forgiveness tasted on your lips). there was something intimate that lingers in the air between you two as you lay in his bed with him, a fleeting moment that will be inked into your mind. 

(the both of you leave your titles behind, mixed together with the scattered objects on the floor, laid on the cold ground to be picked up and worn later like a shiny medal even if you weren’t proud to have them.)

“they say it’s where your lover kissed you the most in your past life.” you stir in your position as you speak, coming to face him and meet his pretty jewel-like eyes—how alluring it was, painted with vivid colors yet it never shines. the sound of mirth laughter bubbles from his throat, a pleasant melody to your ears.

he asks, curiosity tracing the tone of his voice, “and from where did you even hear that?” and you shrug, bringing your form closer to him as you seek for more warmth, “i can’t recall. perhaps i heard it from topaz or maybe from one of the members of the ipc? they’re the only ones i often see and talk to.”

“the doctor?” he wraps his arm around your figure, his hand settling on the small of your back.

“that man will only scorn at that idea and call it stupid. he’ll most likely say that ‘only fools would believe such concepts.’” you mimic the way the esteemed doctor spoke, from the serious expression that he always don on his face to the deepening of his voice. your seemingly successful imitation earned a chuckle from the blonde-haired man before you.

“i’m sure he will.”

silence falls between you two and you took this time to adore each and every line of his being. a few strands of hair fall over his eyes—beautiful, captivating, mesmerizing, you could list out every word to describe his eyes but it would never be enough. you had always wondered why he would hide it until you witnessed the reason why he does so. 

aventurine seems to study your expression at the same also, a soft look on his face as he did, and you can’t help but be curious. “what are you thinking about?” you ask him, breaking the silence that nurtured itself in the space between you and him.

you, he wishes to answer. how you look at this moment in his embrace: you were wearing one of his shirts, albeit, not exactly to your size but you insisted, saying that you liked it as it smelled like him. how gentle, loving, adoring, you were everything; he looks and thinks of you as if you were his everything (he doesn’t deserve you). but he doesn’t say it—the thought weighs too heavily on his mind, claws at his throat, and suffocates him—, instead he utters something entirely different that creates a shift in the air between you two. 

“i don’t think i can do this.” he turns his head to look away from you, staring at the ceiling instead. it seems to extend itself far and far away from him.

the horrible part of being human is the tendency for destruction that lies in your bones. stained palms, calloused pads, despite the gentleness of your touch and the comfort of your caress. the desire to devour flesh and bones, to understand the underlying thoughts and meanings behind words and unexpressed feelings by consuming them. to submerge and drown in the depths of one's despair and desire (too close that the line blurs into one). the horrible part of being him was his tendency to destroy—hesitation and doubt lies in his being and aches at his chest, tugging on his heart’s strings, and settles on his throat—, it’s not like he doesn’t want to hold you, it’s just that he can’t.

“do what?”

“this.” you know exactly what he was referring to, know what he’s afraid of. he has laid himself bare and vulnerable in front of you countless of times that you have memorized the constellations that adorns his skin. you know him, you have known him enough to recognize the fear that tugs on his voice and see the walls that he tries to build up in front of you. you know him enough to know what thoughts are plaguing his mind.

“why do you think so?”

“don’t you think i’m too much to take care of?” he tries not to choke on his words and bite his tongue, careful not to let his voice crack lest he crumbles underneath your caress. i am undeserving of it. worthless. failure. selfish. discarded. coward. loser. nothing. you are bound to leave. 

“not for me.” you caress his cheek and guide him to look at you—instead of the ceiling that seems to appear farther than it originally was in each passing second as the walls glean over him like a shadow—, to meet your gaze and see the sincerity that lurks deep within. “never will i get tired of you. so, let me carry your burden.”

he takes a few seconds to answer, uncertainty lingering in his tone: “it’s not yours to have.”

“it may not be.” you answer with no hesitation, “but it doesn’t mean that you must shoulder them alone.”

he opens his mouth to speak but unable to find the words to say, he closes them. there was a moment of stillness shared between you two. comfort, relief, assurance seeps into the ache of his bones and you say something too heavy even for this steady and silent night to hold, the words too much to be held—light spills in like a flood as if it was pouring out from the sun itself.

“i love you.”

“you utter such words as if it’s something easy for you.” as if loving him was just as simple as waking up in the morning and adoring the way the honey-light hugs your form as the dust settles in the corner of your room. when he’s stripped of everything and left with nothing, would you still love him the same? would you still kiss him as gently as you did? would you still hold the shards of his form even if it makes your hand bleed? 

you spoke in a gentle yet firm croon, gaze unwavering, “because it is.”

you see the falter in his expression: his face, that once was crumpled, relaxed and so did his gaze soften. and you smile at him with only adoration in your eyes—like a devout follower to a divine being. “are you still afraid?”

“i don’t know.” he whispers.

“it’s alright. you have all the time in the world.” your hand weaves itself into his own, fingers lacing with one another, and you gently squeeze. it was a form of reassurance, a way of telling him that you’re here with him through all of it.

the warmth has settled in your being and you spill yourself into the cracks of his vulnerability. “i love you.” you say once more and you kiss the mark on his neck—lingering and soft as if you wish that it would take all his hurt away. the way he shudders underneath your touch, the hitch of his breath soon followed by a gentle sigh as he cradles you closer to him tells you everything that you wish to hear.

for once, he sleeps as if he had nothing to carry, nothing that shackles him to the stars that forsakes him.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.