#Love a bit of Glenn Miller

[fluff-lover]

Healing touch | Chapter 1: In the mood

Summary: You’re a new member of the X-Men. Your mutation allows you to heal other people: you can close any wound, and cure any sickness. You’re not a fighter at all, but you’re useful at the battle field when it comes to saving injured mutants.

The one thing you can’t heal? It’s a broken heart.

Warnings for this chapter: mentions of diseases, hospitals, sick kids, cancer patients. Adult language.

Masterlist

Logan found himself walking aimlessly around the mansion in the dark. Like many nights before, sleep evaded him and he grew too restless to stay in his bedroom. 

At least this time it wasn’t because of a nightmare. It took a while, but he finally felt like home at the mansion, and with time his trauma started to heal. Healing could possibly take years, decades even, and there wasn’t a certainty that he would ever be nightmare free, but it was an improvement.

Tonight however, his bedroom felt too empty, his bed too cold. Recently his feelings for Jean had turned sour. After she told him girls flirted with the bad guy but went home with the good guy, Logan lost all hope of something more happening between them. Jean assured him she loved Scott and she wouldn’t leave him, breaking Logan's heart in the process.

Feeling restless, he threw on some sweatpants and decided to leave the room to clear his head, hoping he would eventually get tired enough to sleep.

He roamed around the ground floor, not wanting to wake up any of the kids or other teachers sleeping in their rooms. He made his way to the kitchen to get a beer from his personal, secret stash, when his hearing picked up a faint music.

Logan tilted his head and focused on it. “In the mood”, by Glenn Miller played from somewhere inside the mansion. Following the music Logan walked down the hall until reaching Charle's office. The door was slightly open and when he peeked inside, his heart almost stopped.

Charles Xavier was dancing.

Yes, dancing. Slowly, and albeit a bit clumsily, Charles danced to the old swing song. He wasn't alone: Logan then saw a young, beautiful woman dancing with him. Charles smiled widely as she encouraged to keep moving. Logan didn’t know it at the time, but that woman was you, and you would turn his life upside down.

“Look at you go! You still got some moves!” You said and laughed.

Logan pushed the door open in shock.

“Chuck?”

Charles turned to his friend and waved his hands, gesturing to him to approach them.

“Logan! Come! Come! There's someone I want you to meet.”

Logan stepped into the office, his mouth half open.

“You're… dancing.” He said in disbelief.

“It's a miracle, isn't it?” Charles smiled before turning to you. “Darling, this is Logan, one of the professors here. Logan, meet our newest member, Angel.” 

You offered Logan your hand to shake and your first name. "Angel is my mutant name.” You explained. Logan shook your hand, still in shock.

“Angel has healing powers.” Charles explained. Suddenly something clicked in Logan's head. 

Logan found the name fitting, since Charles called her power a miracle.

“Wait… you healed Charle's legs?” He asked in disbelief, as if he hadn't just seen the two of you dancing just moments ago. You nodded your head and hummed.

“More like his spinal cord, but yeah, basically.” You replied. Logan stared at you still trying to wrap his head around this.

Despite the excitement, it was obvious Charles was out of breath and a little fragile, so he leaned against his desk. Both you and Logan quickly offered him support, one on each side of him. Carefully you walked him back to his chair and sat him gently.

“I don't think you'll be running any marathons any time soon.” You joked, and Charles smiled.

“I've used this chair for so long, it will take time to get used to standing on my own feet again.” he commented. 

“Just take it easy.” You said with a comforting smile.

He nodded and turned to his friend.

“Logan, would you please show her the way to her chambers? It's room number 29.” He instructed before turning to you. “Tomorrow you'll meet the rest of the team.”

You nodded your head and picked up your suitcase.

“Thank you for this opportunity, Professor. You won't regret it.” You said and Charles smiled.

“Welcome to the team, Angel.” He said, using your now X-Men name. Your smile was wide and beautiful.

Logan walked you out of the office and took your suitcase from you.

“Oh, you don't have to…”

Logan shook his head. He wouldn't call himself a gentleman, but he wasn’t about to let you carry a heavy suitcase up the stairs, especially after you gave Charles the capacity to walk again. 

Eventually you reached a door with a golden “29” painted on it and Logan set down your luggage. 

“I'm in room 14. It's, um…” He pointed over his shoulder. “End of the hall, to the left. In case you need anything.” 

You smiled softly.

“Thank you Logan. Good night.” You said before stepping into the room and closing the door.

Logan stood in the empty hallway. There was no way he would get any sleep now.

.

The next morning there was a knock on your door. When you opened it you found a hairy, blue creature looking back at you. If it wasn't for the fact that you had seen pictures of him in the newspapers, you would've thought he was some kind of puppet. Dr. Hank McCoy introduced himself in a very polite manner and requested you follow him to the Professor's office.

As you approached the office you felt yourself growing anxious. This would be your first time meeting the team. You knew who they were, but you never met them in person before.

When you got there, everyone turned to look at you, and suddenly you felt very exposed.

"Hey.” A voice behind you said. You turned to find Logan walking towards you. "How was your first night at the mansion?”

You smiled, feeling a little bit less anxious.

"Good. I hardly slept, though. I was too nervous to sleep.” You said shyly.

Logan smiled softly.

"You'll do just fine, bub.”

A few more X-men arrived, and once everyone was there, Charles started the meeting.

"Some of you might have heard there would be a new member on our team.” Everyone turned to look at you, seeing you were the only new face. "I would like to introduce you to Angel. She's a healer and will be a great asset during battles.”

You awkwardly waved your hand.

"What kind of healer?” Scott asked.

"I'll answer that. " Charles said before standing up behind his desk. A chorus of gasps and whispers filled the room.

"Professor…” Jean said, slowly stepping towards the desk. “You can walk?”

Charles nodded his head.

"If she can heal an old wound that no doctor could, who knows how many other things she can heal or cure.” He said while walking around his desk. Most people in the room turned their faces to you. You wanted to hide, but Logan’s presence by your side brought some comfort, seeing he hadn’t backed away and people knew they could trust you. 

“She'll work at the lab with Hank, and as the school's nurse, since she can take care of any wound or sickness our students could get.” Charles explained and sat back down. “So let's get her settled in. Ororo, please show her around the school, give her a tour. Next week we'll start working on including Angel in our missions.” 

-

The next couple of weeks you settled in just fine. You were the “shiny new toy” so most of the staff took an interest in you. Some of them, like Jean and Hank, were fascinated by your mutation. Unlike most mutants, your powers didn’t bring harm or danger. They were quite the opposite, you couldn’t hurt anyone and that was a novelty.

That being said, you were at a disadvantage on the battlefield. You couldn't fight or even defend yourself, so you had to be very strategic when it came to taking part in the missions. While you healed fast yourself thanks to your mutation, you still needed to be careful.

Shortly after you arrived you started training at the Danger Room, where you would follow Jean or Scott’s instructions to move from one spot to the other, always quietly and in the shadows. You also learned to work with the team: having Kurt move you from one room to the other unharmed, or have Kitty turn you intangible and dodge dangerous objects coming your way.

You knew that when the time came, you would be ready to move through the field and heal any wounded friend. However, that wasn’t enough. In case it was necessary, you must be able to defend yourself, to fight if it meant saving your life.

Enter Logan.

He took it upon himself to train you in the Danger Room, just the two of you. Ever since you healed Charles, Logan knew you were special and had the utmost respect for you. He wanted to make sure you would be able to protect yourself and remain safe during battle. 

Going easy on people wasn’t his style, but seeing you didn’t have a mutation you could use to defend yourself, he was very patient. He taught you all the basics, like how to block an attack and throw a good punch. Eventually you gained muscle memory, and were able to keep up.

Well, most of the time.

“Left, right, left, right, left, right, down, down.” Logan counted as your gloved hands punched his and ducking low when he attacked back. “Kick!” You went to kick him but lost your footing and ended up falling backwards.

“Crap!” you said as you bounced on the mat. 

“We gotta work on that.” Logan chuckled and offered you his hand. You hooked your wrist with his, since you were both wearing gloves, and he lifted you up. “I think that’s enough for today.”

“Thanks.” You started removing your gloves. 

“Same time tomorrow?” Logan asked. 

Usually Logan detested training beginners, he preferred training with someone who could keep up with him. Sure, you could heal fast, but he still didn’t want to hurt you, so he pulled back most of his punches. There was no actual challenge for him.

Yet he didn’t complain. Not only did he enjoy your company, but he was impressed by how well you took his lessons and how much effort you put in your training. Most people would complain and give up quickly.

Seeing you all breathless and sweaty was a bonus. Mutant or not, he was still a man, and he couldn’t help his eyes wander down your body every once in a while.

To his disappointment, you quickly shook your head.

“I can’t. I have something to do tomorrow, it will probably take all day.” You replied. 

You liked training with Logan. He was a good teacher, and very patient with you, which was a very good thing considering how often you got distracted by his good looks. He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man you had ever seen. There was also something endearing in the way he treated you. You knew he was known for his rough exterior, and most people at the school either respected him, or feared him. You had seen him get angry at Scott Summers over the smallest things, or lose his patience with rebellious students. 

But not you. Never you. He was soft spoken and kind around you. 

That being said, you could use a little break from all the training even if it was just for one day.

Logan clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“Alright, but you’ll do twice the work next time. I won’t go easy on you until you know how to kick property without hurting yourself in the process.” He said teasingly. You rolled your eyes and smiled.

“Can’t wait!” you said sarcastically.

Truthfully, you did want to train with him again soon.

-

Ever since he started training you, Logan began sleeping a bit better. Teaching you was a good workout, and with the following shower, Logan found himself more relaxed at the end of the day. 

He was still an early riser, so the next morning he was the very first in the kitchen to make coffee. He enjoyed the quiet mornings, before everyone woke up and the school came alive. But that morning the quietness was interrupted by the sound of someone stomping on the stairs.

“Jesus, fuck!” He heard you curse. “Goddammit!” Intrigued, he walked out of the kitchen and saw you walking down the stairs, struggling to carry down a huge plastic bag. It was almost half your size.

“What are you doing?”

You weren’t expecting him, so you snapped your head towards him looking embarrassed. “Um…” You blinked. “I didn’t think it would be this big, or this heavy.”

Logan sighed and walked up the stairs.

“What is it in here, anyway?” He said taking the bag from your hands and easily carrying it down the stairs.

You rolled your eyes.

“Show off.” You mumbled and Logan gave you a cocky smile. “If you must know, I’m bringing toys to the hospital. I make a donation every now and then, and I get to cure some kids.” You said as if it wasn’t a big deal.

Logan looked at you surprised.

“You go to a hospital and heal kids in your free time?” He repeated, as if he hadn’t heard you correctly the first time.

“It’s better than doing nothing.” You shrugged. “What’s the point of having this gift, if I don’t do something good with it?”

“Aren’t you worried people will figure out you’re a mutant?”

“Nah, usually they don’t notice they’re healthy until much later.” Your phone made a little “ping” and you took it out of your pocket. After quickly looking at the notification, you groaned. “My Uber cancelled, great!” You complained.

“I can give you a ride.” Logan offered. Usually he wouldn’t bother, but he wanted to see you in action.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden.” You said quietly.

“If you were a burden, I wouldn’t have offered.” He replied before walking towards the garage door. “Come on!”

-

The ride to the hospital was a quiet one, only the radio filling in the car -one that Logan “borrowed” from Scott-.

“So, what are we doing here exactly?” Logan asked as he parked the car. You looked at him confused, you assumed he was only dropping you off.

“Oh, you don’t have to come inside with me…”

“Someone’s gotta carry that big bag, and we both know it won’t be you.”

“Ha-ha.” You fake laughed. “Just… just play along, okay? We’re here to visit the kids and hand out donations.” You explained before getting out of the car, Logan following close by.

You walked to the reception and greeted a nurse.

“Hey Rhonda!”

“Hello my little miracle worker!” She smiled. “I’m so glad to see you, I swear everytime you come by, the kids feel so much better the day after! We had several discharges after the last time you were here.” 

“Oh, that’s nice!” You giggled before shooting a look at Logan. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. He knew he had to keep his mouth shut.

“And who is this tall glass of water?” Rhonda asked as she looked at Logan up and down.

“Oh, this is my friend Logan. He’s here to help me with the donations today.” You explained. 

“Well, we sure can use more helping hands around here.” Rhonda said in a suggestive tone.

Logan cleared his throat uncomfortably, and you quickly started pushing him towards the pediatric wing.

“It was nice seeing you Rhonda! We’ll be out in a jiffy!”

“Friend of yours?” Logan teased when you were out of earshot. You rolled your eyes.

“She’s harmless, I swear.” You replied, making him laugh. 

You stopped by a door that had some pink and purple flowers. In the middle there was a name tag that said “Manx, Ashley.” You turned to Logan and opened the bag to fish for a toy. After coming up with a sweet looking purple dog, you knocked on the door.

A woman, Ashley’s mom you assumed, opened the door. You put on your best, kindest smile, knowing it’s never easy to have a child in the hospital.

“Good morning, ma’am! We come on behalf of a non profit that donates toys to sick children. Would it be okay if we come in and meet your daughter?” You asked politely. The woman stepped aside and let you in.

Logan decided to stay behind, watching you from the door.

You approached the bed and made an effort not to get too emotional as you locked eyes with the little girl.

She looked so fragile, her bald head covered with a pink wool hat, cables stuck to her chest and sticking out of her arm. Your heart ached for her.

“You must be Ashley.” You said as you sat on the edge of the bed. She nodded her head shyly. “I saw the flowers on the door, they’re beautiful. Did you make them?”

Ashley shook her head.

“My friends at school made them for me.” she said, her hands fidgeting with her blanket.

“Oh, that’s so nice! I bet they miss you a lot at school… Do you miss school?” 

Ashley nodded her head.

“The doctor says I won’t go back in a long time.” She explained sadly.

You heard the mom’s breath hitch. Clearly Ashley’s prognosis wasn’t good. Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself and put on a wide smile.

“I’m sure it won’t be that long. But until then, I have a little friend here that could keep you company.” You said sweetly before showing her the stuffed dog. Ashley smiled. “Do you like it?” The little girl nodded and reached out. As you handed it to her, you made sure to place a hand on her arm. Instantly your mutation transfers your powers through contact.

Ashley took the dog and hugged it tight to her chest. 

“Thank you.” 

The entire time Logan watched you closely from the door. You were so kind and gentle, so selfless with your power.

“Thank you for this.” The mom said to him. “We don’t have many good times at the hospital, for obvious reasons. What you and your colleague do is very meaningful. We really appreciate it.” 

Logan stood in silence, not knowing what to say. He just nodded his head.

You stood up from the bed and gave Ashley’s hand a gentle squeeze. 

“You take care, sweetie. And take care of that little friend.” You said pointing at the dog. She giggled and nodded her head.

“I will!”

Once you and Logan left the room, Logan stopped you.

“What happens next? Will she be okay?” He asked and you nodded your head.

“Tomorrow, or one of these days, the doctor will run some tests and find out there’s no traces of cancer in her. It will be odd, and no one will be able to explain it. Her mom will probably say it’s a miracle or something like that… and that will be it.” You shrugged. It really was that simple.

“I’ve never seen anything like that.” Logan said, amazed. You smiled.

“You just wait and see, we’re just getting started.” you said before picking another toy and heading towards the next room.

-

The toy bag was empty and you were exhausted. It had been a long day at the hospital and you were ready to go home and sleep for the next week and a half.

Logan noticed you could barely stand on your feet, so he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer, letting you use him for support as you both walked back to the car. He opened the passenger door and helped you sit down before fastening your seatbelt.

“You doing ok there, bub?” He asked with a frown.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I think I’m running on empty now.” You said softly, your head wobbling against the headrest.

“We’ll get something to eat on our way to the mansion, alright?” He said before closing the door and getting to the driver’s side.

As promised, Logan stopped by a diner on the way to the mansion and got some food. Sitting on the hood of the car, you munched happily at the burger he got you, humming at the delicious fatty taste. Logan sat next to you, eating a burrito.

“It’s a good thing you have healing powers.” Logan commented, one hand holding up a tray of fries for you to take some. “That looks like a heart attack on a plate.” 

You chuckled.

“You don’t get to judge, I’ve seen the cigars you smoke.” You teased back and grabbed some of the fries. Logan smiled.

“How often do you do this?”

“Every other week.” You replied. “I would do it more often but people would start getting suspicious.” Then you frowned, and Logan watched you zooming out, deep in your thoughts. “It sucks, really. I wish I could help them all, I wish I could cure everyone, everything… There are so many people in pain, so many lives I could save or change for the better, but there’s only so much I can do in one day.”

Logan felt a tug in his chest, his heart aching for you. He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave you a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re already doing a lot. Think of all the parents that won’t have to bury a child thanks to you.” He said softly, and his words comforted you. “You may not save the whole world, but you save theirs.”

You smiled softly.

“Thank you Logan. Would you like to come with me to the hospital some other time?”

“Of course, bub.”

Logan had given up on humanity a long time ago. He had seen so much pain and cruelty, he was sure it was only a matter of time before human kind exterminated itself. 

You gave him a little bit of hope. Maybe not everyone was so bad.

[munsster]

Hiiiiiiii loved your Eddie munson x wealthy!reader fix, I was wondering if you could do a billy Hargrove one? Thank you bby💗

billy with a wealthy s/o

A/N: its 100% giving reluctant allies to lovers gif cred: @selinasdalton

Warnings: partying, drinking/smoking, insults (mostly playful), pet names (sweetheart), implied sex

the FIRST thing i thought of was reader rolling with the popular crowd

ie harrington, tommy, carol etc

and seeing billy for the first time at a party

honestly, he probably offers you a drink or better yet a smoke

and you’re disgusted (horny)

and he thinks he’s totally gonna score (you accepted his drink offer)

neither of you really remember how or when it started

you can never agree on an anniversary date

but you both know he fell first

mainly because he was absolutely floored by just how many insults you had ready in your back pocket

“the ball goes in the basket, airhead” “you look like rob lowe if he was a woman and a munch” “my dog could sink more free throws than you and he’s 20 years old”

honestly, he was a little flattered by your creativity

which is why he knew he had to get in your pants somehow

and the first time you invited him over to your house, you wouldn’t hear the end of it

“hey, richie rich, where’s your robot maid?”

“oh, it’s her day off”

“…”

“i’m kidding,” you tease, “she’s not a robot”

he does not know how to handle the amount of shit you spoil him with

“billy… i really like your necklace”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“i can buy you a new—”

“i dont need a new one, sweetheart”

and you don’t know how to handle the fact that he doesn’t want to be spoiled

but you eventually figure out how to be sneaky with it

making him lunches (con caviar), ‘accidentally’ misplacing his shoes so you have to buy him new ones, taking him to fancy barbershops and paying half the cost so it still seems like he’s paying the full price

some may say it’s manipulative. you say it’s loving.

and the first time he buys you a meaningful, mildly expensive gift, you tear up a little bit

you bringing him to the golf course and finding out 1) he’s really good at golf and 2) he is excellent cougar bait

not that you want the over 60’s hitting on your man, but it’s very sweet when they send him drinks and call him a handsome young man

you definitely encourage him to play into it with some “how are you young ladies this evening?” and “don’t you have to be 21 to sit at the bar?” action

he has his fun with it, but he really only does it ‘cause it makes you smile

would never BEG for anything…. but he DOES get really sad when you don’t bring him to the mall to watch you try on shoes or sweaters or whatever.

yeah, if there’s something he’d beg for, it’s that

he lives for the moment you walk out of the dressing room, do a twirl, and ask (like clockwork) “do you like it?”

his answer is always yes, but you claim to know the differences in his tone that indicate what he actually likes

sometimes, if he’s lucky, you’ll let him sit inside the dressing room. watching you change. watching you change.

he is the reason you’re both banned from sears at starcourt

the first really expensive watch you gift him is INSANE

it has like four dials and you said something about alligator leather and 18 carat gold

he can’t decide between wearing it on special occasions to preserve its value or never taking it off because he loves you

when you do stay at his house, usually no ones home

but you have met max

and she likes to stay away from you

but you took her to get a new skateboard and you think that might’ve helped her warm up to you

just a smidge

now she lets you gossip about stupid boys and watch shitty action movies with her

she even promised she would go as croft’s robin for halloween if you swore you’d go as wilson’s batman

that was an interesting halloween for billy

your mansion house has this shiny ass gramophone in one of the downstairs offices

and you told billy that the last thing that had played on it was a glenn miller ‘best of’ album

and that was just not good enough for billy

so one night, he brought over his twisted sister vinyl and convinced you to dance with him while what you don’t know blasted through the brassy pavillon

he also may or may not have convinced you to make out with him while the rest of the record played

even though you drive a brand new, cherry red benz (convertible, he might add), you still love it when he drives the two of you in his camaro

but you also let him drive your car whenever he wants. and he wants to most of the time.

in fact, he’s pretty sure he drives your car more than you do

he also loves to let you dress him up

and do his hair (please practice that cute hairstyle you saw on him. he’ll think about your hands in his hair for hours on end)

even if youre just going on a chill diner date, you still drag him into your (now shared) walk-in closet and pick out these satin shirts and pressed slacks and the shiniest shoes he’s ever seen

but of course, most of your dates are lavish and breathtakingly creative, anyway, so he’s already dressed accordingly

his new catch phrase is something along the lines of “what happened to eating somewhere normal. like pizza hut”

sometimes, his only requirement is “as long as there’s no chandelier”

you flatter him so often, he gets grumpy on days you forget to call him handsome (or pretty boy, which has really grown on him)

typically, he wouldnt go for all the fuss and feathers, but he likes to see you happy.

and boy, does prettying him up make you happy

seriously, you get the wildest look on your face. it’s fulfilling enough that billy feels safe to say he’s content being your ken doll forever

if you’d let him

masterlist

[somehow-a-human]

Moonlight Serenade & Good Omens &... the TV show Lost...?

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY.

The music of Good Omens is something I have been ACTIVELY avoiding turning my focus on. The risks of hyperfixating and spiraling into it are HIGH. There are so many elements to get lost in, repeating motifs like Dies Irae, tolling bells, character themes... but I digress.

Could I hold out forever? no. and something finally pushed me over the edge. Wait for it..... Lost. Yep. The TV show Lost. WAIT WAIT, don't leave! STAY WITH ME! I promise I don't *think* I'm crazy and I have a point here!

Why Lost? And what does it have to do with Moonlight Serenade and WHAT DOES IT HAVE TO DO WITH GOOD OMENS?! Well my lovelies continue under the cut with me and keep an open mind...

Okay so... Lost. Yes, the insane 2004 mystery plane crash island adventure drama. It's a wild ride, and a masterpiece and a little bit crazy, but overall pretty damn good. I've been on a rewatch spree and wouldn't you know it... parallels between lost and Good Omens popped up in my brain! I mean they are both intricate mysteries so it makes a tad bit of sense but there was one little detail that *might* be a *clue*, or just an easter egg if anything. I promise you don't need to know anything about Lost to follow this :)

First off, what are some of the recurring themes that Lost the TV show and Good Omens have in common you might ask?

Life & Death

Alternate timelines & Time Travel

Literary Allusions (Catch-22, The Bible, A Tale of Two Cities)

Prophecies & Premonitions

Symbolism of Black & White/ Light & Dark

Yeah okay that tracks, but look there are 121 episodes of Lost and 12 episodes (so far) of Good Omens so there's bound to be some overlap for these two.

You'll be thinking about now, "BUT WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH MOONLIGHT SERENADE?!" I'm getting there, shhh, lemme pet your hair gently and keep giving you background information to build it up shhhh...

If you've never seen Lost there is a very good chance you're mighty confused at this moment, so let me reassure you, you don't need to know anything about it to understand the connections I'm going to make. A brief synopsis is: Oceanic flight 815 crashes on an island. The plane crash survivors quickly discover the island is more than it seems to be and holds many secrets and mysteries. A lot of people die, most of them are murdered, it's giving Lord of the Flies if it was in the horror genre. That's honestly all you need to know.

Time Travel & Alternate Timelines

Time travel is cannon in Lost. It's super confusing and I'm not even going to try to explain any of it here. It's honestly just not worth it. If you'd like to try and read about it, the abridged version is here, but I don't think the details are important. Just know it's real and confirmed and exists.

Okay so, *SPOILERS FOR LOST WILL FOLLOW* In Lost season 2, episode 13 "The Long Con" two of the plane crash survivors are trying to find a signal on a radio they've found. While scrubbing they come across a signal playing Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller. One character mentions it must be from somewhere nearby, but the other counters that this type of radio can pick up signals from anywhere in the world. There is a beat and then another character jokingly adds "Or any time. Just kidding, dude."

It's later confirmed that the Lost characters in 2004 are indeed picking up a radio signal from 1940 that is playing Moonlight Serenade, a product of time travel.

Congratulations, you've made it to the point where I'm going to bring Good Omens into the mix. In season 2, episode 4 "The Hitchhiker" we open seeing Aziraphale driving back from Edinburgh late at night/early morning. Uncomfortable with the darkness and silence he asks the Bentley to "play something that's got a bit of swing? I'm in the mood for something modern."

The Bentley obliges the angel, as she always will, and we are shown a shot of the radio specifically lighting up, so we know she's tapped into the radio to play this for Azi, but there is no channel selected.

Compared to Season 2, Episode 3 "I Know Where I'm Going" when we see the radio is playing and does display the channel.

But hold on. Okay maybe it just isn't showing the channel, that's fine, but Aziraphale asked for "modern"? Moonlight Serenade is most certainly not modern. It was recorded in 1939! I'd say in 2023 it's anything but modern, maybe not in Aziraphale's long lived opinion, but certainly in the Bentley's opinion, given she's only a 97 year old car.

I think you can see now what I'm saying here. I think the Bentley picked up a radio signal from 1940, maybe 1941? Episode 4 is of course our 1941 blitz magic show bullet catch flashback extravaganza, so... it makes sense. I know we like to headcanon Crowley and Aziraphale listened to A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square in the bookshop in 1941 after the bullet catch, but what if they listened to Moonlight Serenade on the radio instead?

What does it mean?

A reference to this small moment from Lost could be a nod to the first hint of the canonization of time travel in that series. We know Crowley can control time to some extent and we can see some evidence of time discontinuities and possibly time weirdness in season 2 so is it a hint that timeline funkiness IS happening? Do I want to get into the fact that the main character in The Hitchhiker, the Twilight Zone episode this episode is named after, is actually dead? No I don't, not now anyway.

Or it's just an absolutely lovely little Lost easter egg.

SO! There it is... weird little connection that I couldn't get out of my brain. It just seemed a bit too... ineffable.

As always this is all for fun and all for fans! Don't ask Neil about these things, they're for us to have fun with. And something else that I don't think some people on here understand about meta-analysis; the goal of it is not necessarily to be correct. It can be, if that's your thing. Refuting peoples posts, theories, analysis, and headcanons because you personally don't agree with them and telling them they're wrong and stupid doesn't achieve anything. Meta-analysis is an exercise in critical thinking and creative writing. You could write meta about how Spongebob is a critique of the loss of christian values in modern society and you wouldn't be right or wrong, you'd just certainly be a person who wrote that for sure though. Just, be kind to each other, share ideas, you're allowed to disagree with someone's ideas or have different ones of your own but don't be cruel in saying so, don't call someone stupid, that's just silly.

Love you all, do something kind for yourself today <3

ps. The moment I see Michael Sheen with blonde hair come January I'm gonna bark like a dog, that's all. Thanks.

[orqheuss]

Clumsy Love

(Ominis Gaunt/F!Reader FLUFF)

Summary:

Ominis was supposed to be your best friend, so why did being close to him suddenly make your heart race? *** A relaxing day in the Room of Requirement takes a turn that you never expected. Not that you were complaining, though. Who doesn't love a little bit of dancing?

Word count: 3k

AN: I thought this was a really cute idea, and I love the trope where a character is so emotionally constipated that they don't realize they're in love until a really inopportune moment.

If you wanna listen to something while you read, I have a jazz playlist here BUT, if you want specifics, the two songs that I was thinking of for the swing dancing scene started with "Dream a Little Dream of Me" by Ella Fitzgerald, followed by "In the Mood" by Glenn Miller. (if you want a song for the ending, I suggest "The Face I Love" by Stacy Kent)

You didn’t know what you were expecting to come from your day when you retreated to the Room of Requirement, but it certainly wasn’t what was in front of you at the current moment. 

In all honesty, your day started fairly normal— double potions with the Gryffindors, followed by Charms. It wasn’t uncommon for one of your boys, sometimes even both, to follow you from Professor Ronen’s room to your little sanctuary in the Astronomy tower, and today it seemed that Ominis in particular wanted to bask in your company for a little bit longer. Just Ominis. He seemed to be doing that more often as of late. Be it little lingering touches on your arm when he goes to gather your potion ingredients for you, offering to carry your textbooks to a class that you shared, sitting slightly closer than what was normally deemed appropriate at your house table during supper, or going as far as to fall asleep curled against your arm in History of Magic, he was always around. Not that you minded, of course; he was your best friend, bar Sebastian. 

What you did mind was how your body reacted to his closeness, something that happened completely outside of your control. Every time his skin brushed against yours it was like a swarm of lacewing flies hatched in your stomach, their tiny wings beating harshly against the lining of your gut and scratching all the way up to your brain, making it fuzzy and muddled. Your palms would sweat when he stood close to you, small tremors wracking through your form if his shoulder so much as bumped against yours as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. At one point, Sebastian, noticing the extreme shade of pink that overtook your face one evening in the common room when Ominis’ hand “accidentally” brushed against the bare skin above your knee when he reached for his Astronomy textbook on the table, made a big show of pressing his hand to your forehead and feeling for a temperature, asking if you were feeling alright.The most concerning part, though, was that you had become incredibly clumsy whenever he was around. He could just simply speak your name and you would nearly drop anything you were holding in your hands. Sometimes it was something small like your quill, or a hairbrush, but once, to your, and everyone else in your Herbology classes, displeasure, you had dropped the mandrake you were potting when he whispered in your ear asking for help locating his offending tuber. You were beginning to think that you should go pay nurse Blainey a visit— someone must have cursed you to act like this around the sweet blond boy. There was really no logical reason to be this worked up in his presence, and it drove you mad that not only had your peers begun to notice your little slip-ups, but Ominis had also begun to take note of your strange behavior. 

The worst part of it all, though, was instead of asking if you were alright, or coming to the same conclusion as you about the possible curse, he seemed obnoxiously smug about your reactions to him once Sebastian had the gall to point them out. 

What did he know that you didn’t?

Either way, you had developed a new symptom that day in your Come and Go room. An old gramophone had appeared in the corner of your little sitting area not long after you entered, playing some soft ragtime tune chalk full of brass and jaunty piano that created a lovely ambiance to your impromptu study session. Ominis had started humming along soon after it began, seemingly recognizing the melody. His voice had a lovely timbre to it— something deep and earthy that rumbled in your chest and made your heart race with every lift and fall of the notes. Eyes fluttering shut, the book in your lap quickly lost your interest much like most other things when you were in the Slyrherin’s presence. He had this gravitational pull to him that you couldn’t help but react to; everything in your body screamed that you needed to be in his orbit forever. 

Normally, the smallest of movements from him captured your attention, but you were so enthralled by his angelic voice that you didn’t notice him standing before you, his hand outstretched in front of your face and his palm facing the sky, until that heavenly throat cleared itself. You shook yourself from your hypnotized state, fumbling with the book open in your lap and slamming it closed by accident from the shock before snapping your gaze to his. He was looking down at you with a gleam of mirth in his eyes, the mischievous glint making the oceanic blues glitter like the reflection of stars on the black lake. It was uncanny how well he could meet your gaze, no matter the struggles his disability would normally pose. Ominis chuckled lightly at your squeak of fright, flexing his fingers in your direction again as he spoke, his smile clear in his tone. 

“Care to dance, dearest?” 

Dearest. Your two boys called you little pet names before, nothing more significant than a “dear” or “love” here and there, but dearest? Merlin help you. You had felt your heart pick up its pace around the blond before, but the way his mouth moved around that sweet sounding word made your trusty organ completely stop. 

That was definitely new.

He laughed again, a velvety sound that completely wiped your mind of whatever you were about to say. One of Ominis’ perfect eyebrows quirked up slightly, his teeth biting his lower lip in an attempt to hide his cheeky smirk. 

Your jaw opened and closed like a fish gasping for air as you struggled to find your words again. Detangling one of your hands from the knot that your fingers made on your lap, you carefully placed it in his waiting palm; your heartbeat skipping again at the sight of his long, lithe fingers completely engulfing yours. 

You stuttered around the sudden dryness in your mouth. “Y-Yes! I’d love to.” 

The pretty blond’s smile only grew wider as he pulled you up to stand, his pearly white teeth catching the sun rays streaming through the large skylight above as he pressed his hand to the small of your back, drawing you closer until you were flushed with his chest. You prayed to the gods above that he couldn’t feel how harshly your heart was pounding in your chest. 

Ominis carefully swayed the two of you to the beat of the music, his smooth voice humming softly in your ear again as he moved your bodies to and fro. Your shoulders slowly relaxed as the music picked up in volume, the warm-toned sound of the trumpets backing the warbly voice of the jazzy songstress flowing pleasantly through your ears and curling around the forefront of your mind. The boy started to move a bit more, taking your gentle breath against the junction of his neck as the go ahead to move the both of you in a more pronounced motion. As much as he loved messing with you, he still wanted you to feel comfortable around him. Ominis slowly spun you around, keeping small circles for now and letting himself truly relax into the music. His soft hums pittered off more and more with each passing moment, the sound soon being taken over by his singing voice melding with the lyrics of the song playing. Your heartbeat slowed as a contentedness filled your entire body. There was nothing in the world that you could compare the tonality of his voice to; it was truly divine— the lilt of his accent taking you like a breeze on a cooled, winter morning. 

The music only got livelier the longer the two of you were tangled in the embrace. Saxophones sang alongside the standing bass with each swung note, trumpets called across the recording studio and were answered by the trombones on the other side, the piano plucked through a scattered melody that was finished by the vocalist. All the while, Ominis never faltered in his steps. You had never seen his smile so big before— so full of joy and life. Looking at him was like the sun had finally come out after a long, dreary blizzard. There was nowhere else you wanted to be in that very moment, everything was absolutely perfect. 

As the ragtime piano sped up in tempo, so did your steps. The two of you spun around the large, expansive room, letting the music carry you away into its sweet oblivion. Your skirts gently brushed against Ominis’ calves as he swung your body where he wanted it to go, leading you to the best of his ability without his wand to guide him. You served as his eyes, gently pulling him away from things in your path like end tables or chairs as you climbed up and down the stairs, winding around your vivariums and through the grand, columned hallways connecting each section to the other. It wasn’t a good dance in the slightest, neither of you quite coordinated enough to warrant any applause or win any competitions. More often than not your feet ended up atop of his, but he never once flinched or grumbled at your lack of experience. The wiry boy was completely content in this little bit of chaos— he would happily let even the likes of a graphorn crush his toes if he could keep holding you in his arms like this. Your laughter mingled together, bouncing off the tall cathedral ceilings and ringing like the bells of Hogsmeade on a spring day, the smell of fizzing whizbees from Honeydukes and the tiny bangs of fireworks from Zonkos dancing together in the air. 

All of it came crashing down, however, when you did not see the corner of your wizards chess table come into focus— much too distracted by the way the light of your gas lamps caught the white streaks in his pupil-less eyes just right. One wrong move of your ankle and down you both went, tumbling to the ground in a grand knot. Ominis quickly turned his body to shelter your fall, pulling you closer to his chest in a show of protection as he braced for impact against the cold stone floor. He landed first, a soft puff of air leaving his throat alongside a pained “ooph” as your dead weight pressed against his ribs. You clumsily gathered your bearings, scrambling up to your elbows and a rouged blush stretching from ear to ear as apologies fell frantically from your lips.

“Oh Merlin, I am so sorry, Ominis. How unbecoming of me, let me just—” 

His arms tightened around your waist, his fingertips digging into your sides and keeping you steady and exactly where you were, giving you no room to move from his hold. The contact was near burning, like ten tiny hot coals against your skin. You didn’t think you could possibly blush anymore than you already were. Luckily, it seemed that Ominis was in a very similar state under you. His own cheeks were painted the color of roses, making his birthmarks stand out exponentially more against the normal paleness of his skin tone. You traced the tiny, homemade constellations, casting your eyes up more until they met his unseeing, wide-eyed stare. You had never been this close to the boy's face before— never noticed how deep his eyes were, like two endless whirlpools off the Clagmar coast. They drew you in, pulling you deeper and deeper into his frothing currents. You could see entire coastines in them, the seafoam tides that rolled through his turbulent irises smooth but strong like a riptide. There was no question in your mind that you would be completely content drowning in those waves. 

Your thoughts came to a pause when the most adorable giggle you had ever heard came from the boy underneath you. His eyes began to crinkle at the corners as his smile grew wider, tiny little whimpers of a laugh escaping through his parted lips as the situation at hand began to take shape in his mind. Ominis’ entire face lit up like the sun as he laughed, the volume of his voice rising steadily until loud guffaws wracked through his entire body. The tremors vibrated where you were connected, sending a warming buzz through your system as you too were taken over by uncontrollable laughter. Your head fell to his chest, pressing your temple against his sternum as one of his hands reached upwards and thread its way into your hair. If anyone were to come into the room they would think you both had gone completely loony. Who knows, maybe you had. All you knew, though, was that this was the happiest you had felt in a very long time. 

Your cackles soon slowly pittered down to soft giggles as you straightened your neck, opening your eyes again and gazing at the beautiful boy you were still on top of. You didn’t notice when he had stopped laughing with you, but the look on his face at that very second could have ceased time itself. Ominis’ lips were curled upwards in the softest smile you had ever seen, his eyes gentle and half lidded like a cat content in a sunbeam. You were sure he would be purring right now if he had the ability. He was somehow looking at you in a way that you could only describe as how the moon would look at the earth— like your laughter was the sole reason his world continued to spin on its axis. 

Everything you had been feeling, every physical reaction that had confounded you as of late in regards to the blond suddenly made sense. You had not been cursed to act like a blithering idiot like you had originally thought, the answer was much more simple than that. It was truly idiotic how long it took you to realize the simple fact of the matter: you were in love with him. It wasn’t a shock when you finally pieced it together, if anything the revelation came to you as easy as breathing. You were in love with Ominis Gaunt, no if’s, and’s, or but’s. 

One of your hands shifted slightly to the right, cradling the side of his face and soothing your thumb against his cheekbone as his reached to do the same, brushing the hair that fell from your bun behind your ear and gently holding the side of your jaw that he didn’t already have a hand on. A surge of bravery shocked through your veins like lightning as your eyes narrowed in on the soft curve of his cupid's bow, your face leaning minutely closer and your breath fanning against his lips as his eyes flitted closed. 

Screw prosperity, and screw what was deemed “ladylike.” Right now, there was only one thing you wanted to do, and you didn’t think you would ever get another chance as perfect as this. 

Your lips curled into a smile of your own as you whispered against his skin, mouth a hairs length away and gently brushing against his as you spoke. “I am going to kiss you now, Ominis, if that’s alright.” 

All he could do was nod slightly, his own words nothing but a trick of the wind. As if he would ever deny you, and by extension himself, of that simple pleasure. “Okay…”

And then there was no more space between the two of you. Your lips fit together like two puzzle pieces, both torn, well loved, and worn but still able to fit together no matter how many times your edges are frayed. There were no grand fireworks, nor bursts of stars behind your eyes as your mouths moved in tandem, just the feeling that this was right. This was what was missing from your life all of these years. His hands pulled your face impossibly closer, one set of fingers working their way under your top knot and gripping at your roots as you both poured everything you had been feeling into the other. For once, everything was bliss. 

The kiss ended much sooner than you would have liked it to, but unfortunately as humans you needed to breathe every so often. Ominis’ smile was contagious as he pulled away, his breath fanning heavily across your cheeks as he pressed gentle pecks into your skin. It was like a weight had been lifted off his chest. His subtle gestures of courting had finally worked. 

“I have wanted to do that for so long.” 

You snickered lightly, rubbing the tip of your nose against his. “Why didn’t you, then?” 

It was his turn to laugh now, his breathy chuckle your new favorite sound. “It seems I’m just as clumsy with my emotions as you are, my dearest.” 

You both dissolved into giggles again, letting your heartbeats slow back to a normal pace before continuing your activities from before. The gramophone continued to warble from the corner, beckoning you to dance once more with its saccharine song, and who were you to deny its call.

No, it may not have been a perfect dance, nor a perfect first kiss, but it was yours. 

As you clamored off of the fallen blond, cradling his hand in yours as you helped him up from the floor and back into the dancing position you had found yourself in moments ago, you knew one thing for certain: there were definitely going to be more dances, and certainly more clumsiness, to come. 

AN: I won't lie, I don't think this is my best. I still wanted to put it out there though. It's my birthday, pls be nice to me.

***

like what you read? here's more!

[anathemaloren]

flowers and tea

Naomi McPherson x fem!florist!reader

🌼Warnings - 2 curse words? and english is not my first language

🌼Genre - fluff (i guess)

🌼Word count - 3.4k (WHAT?!)

🌼Notes - OH MY GOD, you don't know how much time I've spent writing this like 3k words???? that's just crazy. also, i wrote this in several classes at school, sorry arturo, montse and chus 🙏🏼 and this is dedicated to carolina who tried to peek into the story and i didn't let her, luv ya bubs

Having her own shop was a dream and a nightmare at the same time for Y/n L/n.  Paying the bills, keeping the flowers beautiful the whole day through, being all day on her feet or dealing with rude costumers were all things Y/n wished she could get rid of. But at the same time, she truly loved her job. Being able to surround herself with flowers was a dream come true, and seeing a smile on the face of a happy customer really made her day. Plus, the shop was in a strategic place in Los Angeles where sometimes famous people came through, and she even had a few celebrities who were usual shoppers. Lucy Dacus stopped from time to time to buy flowers in order to dry them, and considered Y/n a friend. Pedro Pascal always bought flowers for his sister from Y/n, and Ashton Irwin loved to stop by for a chat about how to keep his plants as beautiful as Y/n’s. So, Y/n shouldn’t fall easily for a star, right?

          It was a slow day, so Y/n busied herself rearranging flowers on the back of the shop. She was calmly arranging a bouquet of lilies when she heard the bell on top of the door and a pair of shoes rushing in. Curious about who would come bursting in like that, she lowered the volume of the Glenn Miller vinyl that was playing on the background and stepped into the front of the shop while cleaning her hands on her apron. She then saw a person looking like they had run for 10 kilometres, with curls sticking to their red face, and trying to catch some air.

          “Hi.” Y/n said calmly “Can I help you with something?” she asked. “Yeah, I think you would be unbelievably helpful right now” they said, making Y/n chuckle amused. “Tell me, what can I do for you?” she said, taking her notebook out, just in case she needed to write something down. The person standing on the other side of the counter leaned a bit on it and tried to arrange the curls around their head. “It’s my mum’s birthday, and I’ve been so busy that I completely forgot about buying her something, and I love her very much I can’t just not buy her anything, and I’m meeting her tonight, I can’t show up empty handed” they said without stopping, catching a quick deep breath “. So Lucy told me to come here and say to you that she sent me and that you could arrange something with flowers that have meaning for, like… now… could you?” they finished, looking expectantly at Y/n. The girl just blinked a few times, taking all the information in. “Which Lucy sent you?” she asked, testing the person’s connection to her, not truly trusting them yet, even though they looked like a decent person to her. “Ummm… Lucy Dacus?” they said, with caution. Y/n visibly lighted up, smiling at the thought of the black haired girl recommending her to her friends. “Well, you should’ve started with that.” She said, turning around and starting to walk to the back of the shop, turning around again to gesture to the still nameless person to follow her back.

          If the front of the shop was a dream, full of aromatic plants and antique furniture, the back of it was another level of etherealism. Besides another huge amount of plants and flowers, one wall was a window wall, made out of old looking stained glass of art déco style. There was a table with two chairs were Y/n would have tea, sometimes with someone else, and behind the table there was a bookshelf with heaps of books about flowers and their care and meanings. In the middle of the room there was a worktable with a few half-arranged bouquets of lilies of different colours. Y/n moved with ease around the space, and she turned to face the stranger once she got to the workbench, only to find said stranger with their mouth half opened in awe.

          “Are you okay?” Y/n asked, slightly amused with the reaction she was witnessing. The stranger blinked a few times as if to come out of some sort of trance, and responded after centering themselves in the conversation again “Yeah, yeah, fine” they said, making Y/n’s smile a bit brighter. “I’m Naomi, by the way” the stranger said, finally giving a name to the curious person. “Oh, yeas, from Muna, right?” Y/n said, eliciting a nod from Naomi. “Lucy has told me so much about all of you, I don’t know how I couldn’t recognize you the moment you walked in” she said, making Naomi smile a bit. “She really talks about me to you?” Naomi asked, feeling a wave of affection for their friend. “Yeah, she talks about all of you all the time” Y/n said, giggling a bit “. I almost feel like I know you personally sometimes, although meeting you in person makes me realize she forgot to mention some things” she said, standing behind the working table and moving the flowers around to make space for others. “Like what?” Naomi asked, furrowing their brows, thinking that maybe they had given a terrible first impression, when they had been mesmerized with Y/n since they had seen her. The girl standing opposite to them smiled at them coyly before saying nonchalantly “For starters, she forgot to mention you are even more handsome on real life than on pictures.” The comment made the curly haired blush, not expecting the sweet looking florist to be so flirty and straightforward.

          Naomi’s reaction made Y/n giggle, feeling like she couldn’t stop smiling around them. She didn’t know where the confidence to be so bold had come from, either. She then decided to stop messing around and get to work. “So” she said, clearing her throat before continuing ´´, what did you want for your mum?” Naomi shook their head for a second, pulling themselves together about the flirty comment from before, and answered the question “I truly don’t know, I just want to tell her I love her, and flowers seemed like a good option” they said, being truly bad at flowers. “So you want to send a message with these flowers” Y/n said, looking at Naomi attentively. “Yeah, basically” they answered, doubting a bit about the rightness of their answer. “Well, if you want I can arrange a bouquet with flowers that mean that you love her” Y/n smiled, always loving to do bouquets with deep meanings. “Do you mean flowers mean something specific?” Naomi asked, making Y/n clutch her pearls in feigned offense. “Of course they do! That’s my job you’re talking about!” she said, making Naomi laugh. Y/n smiled and walked over to the bookshelf, picking up and old-looking book, with a pink cover and golden details.

          Y/n sat down on one of the chairs of the table, signalling Naomi to sit in the other one. The florist browsed through the book, in which Naomi could only see beautiful illustrations and paragraphs of what they could guess was information about the flowers in the other page. When Y/n finally had all the information she needed, she closed the book and looked up, only to find the curly haired brunet already looking at her. This discovery made the girl blush and Naomi look away immediately, embarrassed about being caught. Y/n decided not to panic, clearing her throat before speaking “I think I’ve found the ideal flowers” she said “. If you follow me, I can show them to you” she continued, while standing up, already blushing a bit again. Where had all the previous confidence gone? The person now standing in front of her was truly messing with her emotions, and they had only met for roughly 25 minutes, even less.

          Y/n waltzed around the room picking up flowers, oblivious to the mesmerized client who was following her. She picked up the flowers and explained their meanings to Naomi “White carnations mean purity, love and beauty; the azaleas are a symbol of womanhood in China, and they are a symbol of love; daisies symbolize purity and innocence; and camellias represent gratitude and longevity” Although Naomi seemed like they were just hypnotized about the girl’s beauty, her words were also enthralling to them. After coming back with the flowers to the worktable, Y/n asked Naomi about their opinion, at which they could only stutter an OK, making the girl working in the bouquet blush and giggle.

          When she finished the bouquet, the mixture of carnations, daisies, azaleas and camellias looked beautiful. Y/n’s talent was something that had Naomi’s mouth open in amazement. Their head couldn’t wrap around the fact that two hands and a few flowers had given such result, the florist’s talent oozing from every aspect of the bouquet. Besides from the big possibility of their mum loving the bouquet, Naomi had also fallen in love with the care and talent Y/n had shown making it. Maybe they had also fallen for the hands responsible of such beauty, and the person who controlled them with so much grace.

          Y/n finished wrapping the bouquet, not really wanting Naomi to leave her shop. But she knew she couldn’t stop a big ass pop star that surely wasn’t going to fall for her. “I think this is finished” she said, nerves flowing through her whole body. “We can go to the front now” she continued, now moving to the front of the shop, bouquet in hand. While Naomi paid with her card, Y/n finished preparing the gift. When she turned around to get the business card she always gave out to first time clients, she hesitated when deciding what complimentary flower to give to Naomi. She finally chose a lavender coloured rose. She nervously put the flower and the card in a bag with the flowers. She didn’t know why she was so shaken, Naomi probably didn’t share her feelings; for fuck’s sake, they had known each other for something more than an hour. When Y/n gave the bag to Naomi their fingers brushed ever so slightly, which resulted in different reactions; Y/n let out a sigh, while Naomi froze immediately. When the florist realized they had spent more time than necessary in that position, she put her hand back as Naomi’s suddenly burned. They just blinked a few times, blushed, turned back and marched through the door mustering a rushed thanks and a farewell. Y/n sighed when Naomi was finally out, leaning on the counter and placing her head between her hands. What a naïve thought, that someone like Naomi McPherson could ever like someone like her. Now, she just had to move on, and try to forget about them.

Lucy Dacus had decided to have a quiet night. She had a nice dinner, placed a few candles and played some soft background music. She then picked up her current read, and with a cup of a delicious tea that Y/n had suggested her, she got ready to relax, plunging down on the armchair she loved the most. That relaxing, though, didn’t last long, as she heard the doorbell ring. She groaned, detangling herself and getting up to open the door. If it was her annoying neighbour again, she was ready to throw hands. However, when she opened the door, there was no nosy neighbour on the other side; instead, Naomi was there, nervously biting her nails, and looking a bit miserable. “Naomi? What are you doing here? Are you okay?” Lucy asked, worried about her friend’s state. “Where the fuck did you send me?” they just said, spreading their arms exasperated. “What?” Lucy just said, sincerely confused. Seeing as the only answer from Naomi was a pair of widened eyes, which lead to Lucy sighing and moving from the door, signalling Naomi to come in. Goodbye, quiet night.

          After a cup of tea, Naomi had calmed down, and they had told Lucy about those afternoon events. “And when I finished dinner with my mum I needed to vent, and as you were the one who told me to go to her, I just…” they finished, trailing down at the end. Lucy nodded in understanding, not needing to hear more from her friend before concluding “So basically, you fell head over heels for her and you think she doesn’t correspond your feelings”. Naomi just mustered a “yeah” while dropping their head in defeat. Lucy nodded again, leaning back on the armchair she was sitting in. “Well, we can kind of know how she feels about you” she said, smiling softly, making Naomi shoot their head up, waiting for a solution for their problems. “Did you keep the flower she gave you with her card?” Lucy said, already knowing the answer. Naomi slowly reached for a pocket in their jacket, taking out a lavender rose. Lucy got up and moved towards a shelf next to a window, where she saw rain starting to pour. She took a book from the shelf, under the curious stare of her friend. The book was a Victorian guide to flower meanings, which Lucy had somehow managed to thrift. She looked through the book sat on the armchair again. She could feel Naomi biting their nails and looking nervously at her. Finally, she found it. “It says here that lavender roses mean…” Lucy stopped, looking kindly at the meaning “It’s a flower that represents enchantment love at first sight” she said, looking again at Naomi, whose mouth was now partly opened in shock and eyes completely opened. They quickly recomposed and started shaking their head in denial. “Come on, Dacus, stop playing” they said, not believing what Lucy was saying. “I’m not” Lucy replied, showing the book to them. Naomi was feeling a weird mix of emotions, between shock, denial and complete confusion, with a tint of utter affection. Was this some kind of sick and twisted joke?

          Naomi got up and started pacing Lucy’s living room, not sure about what that really meant. They knew they had liked Y/n, call it love at first sight if you feel like it, but something had bloomed in that flower shop, and not only the plants. Lucy closed the book and laid back, deciding to leave Naomi to walk around and calm down. They finally did, sitting across Lucy again. Taking a deep breath, the curly haired talked for the first time in the last few minutes, breaking the silence that had settled itself on the room, mixed with the sound of drops of the still pouring rain. “What do you think I should do?” they asked Lucy for advice, with a hint of somewhat fear on their voice. “I can’t decide anything for you” Lucy said, shaking their head. “I’m not asking for instructions, Luce, I want your opinion” Naomi said, in a soft tone. Lucy sighed and leaned towards her friend “Do you like Y/n?” she asked, not really expecting a forward answer. “Yeah, I think I do” Naomi said with a sincere voice, astounding Lucy, who blinked and talked again. “Do you want to tell her that?” “I think I do” they replied again. Lucy questioned Naomi for a third time “I have her address. Do you want me to give it to you?” she said, and spoke again before Naomi could say anything “And don’t say that you think you do” she half-threatened. Her friend closed their mouth, opening it not much of a second later “I truly want her address” Lucy nodded, getting up to write it on a blue piece of paper. When she finished, she folded it and gave it to Naomi, who was standing up, nervously playing with their fingers. The moment they had the paper, they gave a heartfelt hug to Lucy, and then sprinted to the door. Lucy saw them get into their car and smiled softly. She didn’t mind a night not so quiet if it was for the sake of romance.

Y/n was laying on her couch, one feet dangling off it. She laid there, looking at pictures of Naomi on Pinterest, although if someone asked, she was reading the Rilke book that was now laying on the coffee table next to her. She sighed, turning her phone off and keeping to staring to the ceiling. How was she so stupid that she had been so enchanted by someone who had been in her store for an hour. She stood up and picked up the book, deciding it was enough pining for someone she probably would never see again. She read a few pages, but didn’t last long before putting the book in her lap and looking out the window. She looked at the pouring rain, which she loved. She knew she should hate the rain, but she loved the romanticism of it all, even though she knew she would never have her ever so idyllic love confession in the rain.

          Just as she was lost on her thoughts, Y/n heard the doorbell ring. She wondered who the hell would be knocking at that time in the night, even more with that terrible weather, which truly didn’t invite to going out. She kept wondering who it could be as she walked to the door, expecting to see a neighbour or someone trying to sell her some stupid product. However, the only person she found waiting outside of her house was a drenched Naomi. Y/n’s eyes opened wide as she took the sigh in, with her breath getting caught in her throat.

          Y/n talked, although the lump she felt on her throat made it a bit difficult. “What are you doing here?” she said, not being able to move herself from her spot on the door entrance. “I needed to see you” they said, with a tint of hopelessness in their voice. Y/n felt like flowers were blooming in her stomach, with the leaves and petals tickling her stomach. “How did you know where I lived?” Y/n asked again, nerves now flowing through her system. Naomi looked a bit guilty before answering “Lucy gave it to me, I asked her for it”. Y/n made a mental note of scolding her later, but asked the last question she couldn’t stop pondering about. “And why did you want to see me, Naomi?” she said, not sure if she wanted to hear the response. Naomi breathed deeply before replying. “I like you” they said, making Y/n’ world turn upside down in a matter of microseconds. She tried to calm down her breath, that was now working, but too fast for anyone’s liking.

          However, Naomi misinterpreted the silence, thinking that Y/n was somewhat outraged by the statement, apologizing while moving back to what Y/n suspected was their car “I’m sorry, this was a mistake”. Y/n snapped back then, following Naomi to their car with a quick pace “Naomi, wait!” she said, trying to get Naomi to look at her. The curly haired, which hair was now not so curly as it was soaked and stuck to their face, turned around and looked at her with a pained look on their face. Y/n tried to find the words, but they seemed to be stuck to the walls of her throat. Naomi exhaled, turning back once more to unlock their car. Seeing as the opportunity of confessing was slipping through her fingers, Y/n decided to take matter in her own hands… literally. She got closer to Naomi and took their face into their hands, pulling them in for a kiss. The kiss was short and sweet, and Y/n pulled away to see what reaction that had elicited from Naomi. They just stared at Y/n with a look of shock on their face, that didn’t last so long, as their brain decided to finally act. Naomi took Y/n face in her hands and kissed her again, now deepening the kiss. The moment under the rain seemed to last forever, as both their hearts synchronized in loud thumps. When they finally pulled away from one another, the rain kept pouring over them with an astounding force that seemed to mimic the strength of their feelings for one another. They were both soaked as they stood outside of Y/n’s house, smiling to each other like the infatuated idiots that they were.

          “I liked the flower” Naomi said, still not getting away from one another. Y/n laughed, touching her forehead with Naomi’s. “It was not as subtle as I intended it to, I guess” she said, making Naomi laugh now. “I liked it better that way” they voiced, giving a small kiss to the side of Y/n lips. It that was a dream, they both hope they would never wake up.

[multifandoms27-blog]

Bucky Barnes Relationship HC's

It was my birthday this past weekend, and this is my birthday gift to myself. Hope y'all enjoy!

Content: (mostly) Post CW Bucky x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Talk about PTSD, (minimal) couple fights, cheesy Bucky lol

Notes: Bucky is working with the Avengers in this

• ───────────────── •

Something everybody seems to agree on, is that Bucky is clingy.

When he's away on missions, he tries to call you every night so he can hear you before bed. When you're away on missions, he can't sleep until you call him. You forget one night? Oh well, he's not sleeping. He's worried about you but he won't mention it to anyone else. He'll silently freak out by himself until you call.

He has nightmares, he likely always will. This makes him kind of a bad bedmate, but he doesn't mean to move so much. I would suggest taking melatonin so you can get some actual sleep.

Speaking of his nightmares, when he wakes up from them, he never wants to wake you. 9/10 times though, you've been awake for a little bit before him. He feels bad, and sometimes he'll run from you, or he'll seek out comfort.

If he runs from you, it's because he can't handle human interaction in that moment. PTSD reactions or waking up from nightmares make people feel very vulnerable, and some don't like feeling that way, and run somewhere they know is safe for them to hide until they calm down. Think of a turtle hiding in it's shell.

If he seeks out comfort, it'll go something like this;

Bucky yells as he shoots up, eyes wide and glossy. His body feels too cold despite being under the blanket with you, like he's overexposed. He looks around the room as he breathes heavily, trying to slow his heart rate. Nobody else is in here. Nobody but him and you. That's right, he...he got away.

His gaze shoots over to you as you stir and look up at him. You two stare at each other for a moment before you speak. "Nightmare?"

Bucky swallows his spit and nods. You adjust a little before lifting up the blanket. "Want some cuddles, Bucky?"

Bucky nods wordlessly, quickly settling next to you. He can feel your warm arms sliding around his body, encasing it with a certain weight that comforts him. He's here, next to you, safe and sound. No injuries. No fighting. No more being cold.

"Wanna talk about it?" You mumble against his skin.

"Don' feel like it right now, doll." Bucky wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer. "But...thank you."

"Yeah, of course." You nod, yawning. "Love you, Buck."

"Love you too, (Y/n)."

Normally, Bucky is pretty playful with you. He'll be flirty with you, share jokes, tell you anything and everything that's on his mind, and sometimes will just take your hand and start dancing around with you. He'll teach you how to waltz if you don't know how already.

He likes to learn about newer century stuff with you, but be patient with him if he doesn't understand something.

Although sometimes, he likes to learn different pieces of media and surprise you with his knowledge later (like in FATWS when he knows about the Hobbit)

It's also no secret that he's such a romantic. You cannot tell me this man wouldn't keep track of your anniversaries and birthdays every year.

You were making yourself a snack in the kitchen when Bucky walked in with a smirk. You looked up and gave him a smile. "Hey handsome, how you doing today?"

"Very well, now that I've seen you." Bucky strides to you.

"Oh? You weren't doing well before?"

"I'm at my best when my best girl is here." Bucky gently brings your hand to his lips, giving it a kiss.

You feel your face heat up, and Bucky chuckles. He loves when your face gets all rosy. He then turns your body to face him fully, your left hand going on his shoulder and your right hand staying in his own. His free hand goes to your waist, and he opens his mouth to speak again. "FRIDAY, play A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square by Glenn Miller."

FRIDAY made a small beep before answering, "Certainly."

You heard the old 40's crackle in the song as the man sang, and Bucky led the waltz around the kitchen island. No matter how many times you two have waltzed, neither of you can pry your eyes away from each other. As the song ended, Bucky stopped your movement, and just swayed in place. You moved your arms up to his neck, and his other hand went to your waist. Bucky gave you a soft, sweet kiss as the last musical note ended.

"Happy anniversary, doll."

"Oh Buck, you romantic." You grinned. "Happy anniversary, my love."

He'll also write you love letters if he's away on a mission for a while. He's not quite the poet, but he tries, lol. It's one of the only things left of him you have after the snap. That also means on birthday cards and stuff, you'll find his love notes for your eyes only, detailing how you make him feel, his favorite things you did that day, how you illuminate his life, it's all very cheesy. I love him.

Gets you bouquets of flowers because he saw them and thought of you (cause the flowers were pretty).

If you're into LOTR/Hobbit and show him the movies, he'd be ecstatic. He really liked the Hobbit when it came out, and to see it in movie form with you makes it so much better.

He'd want to be into your interests too. He wants to watch your favorite movies, see your favorite shows, know/read your favorite books, etc. He wants to connect with you on every level. He's stuck to you like glue.

Fights with him rarely happen, but it happens if he's already in a bad mood or is tired from a mission. The arguments can turn nasty, and he really doesn't mean to, but the person he loves and trusts the most is angry at him right now - so it's only fair he's the same way, right? Wrong, that's just the PTSD talking.

You two don't tend to stay mad at each other for very long. The most he has managed to stay mad at you was two days, before he was trying to find a way to apologize, unless you apologized first (depending on the situation). He likes being able to talk through the problem with you, it makes him smile the brightest smile after the issue is resolved, no matter how small. Not even Tony could break his stride.

He's not too fond of extreme PDA, but he'll keep his arm around your shoulders and give you a peck on the cheek here and there. Although, to annoy Tony or Sam, he might just grab you and give you a big, wet, passionate kiss on the lips. But what he'll never do is smack your ass or make any sexual remark or gesture in front of the others. He wants to keep your dignity and whatever is left of his.

Also expect random compliments here and there. Even if you're doing the most menial tasks, or on your lazier days.

You were texting Wanda while waiting for your toast to be done, yawning. You were in baggy lounge wear, and you hadn't done your morning routine yet. Bucky walked in, his hair already brushed and clearly ready for the day. He stops and looks you up and down before leaning against the doorframe, letting out a whistle.

The whistle makes you look up and give him a smile. "Morning, Buck."

"Morning sweetheart." Bucky flashed you a grin.

You just chuckled, then turned to grab your toast as it popped out. Bucky came up behind you and put his hands on your hips, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. "Why're you so cute, huh?"

"I'm not a mirror, Buck."

"Oh, you're mistaken. I'm very clearly looking at my wonderful girlfriend." Bucky laid his head on your shoulder, giggling at his own remark.

Your face heats up, even though he's said this to you multiple times before. "Aw, Buck..."

He kisses your shoulder again, moving his arms so they fully wrap around you. You take a bite of your toast, then move it to him to offer a bite. He bites into the toast and hums, satisfied.

When you guys go to bed, he's almost always big spoon. He likes holding you and protecting you. What better way to do that than holding you close while you both sleep? It's also a soothing way to get him to sleep. He feels your body move as you breathe - it's like the calmest sleep asmr for him, haha.

But that means if you get up to go to the bathroom or get a glass of water, he's waking up too. In his dreams he can feel something moving against him, and that causes him to wake up and make sure you're okay. Sometimes he'll wait for you to get back and pretend he was asleep, other times he'll follow cause he doesn't want to be alone.

If he has a nightmare though, he moves in his sleep. So his body will pry himself away from you, but it gives him a better chance to run and recover by himself if he needs to.

Definitely feels like you're the girl he's gonna settle down with. He just hopes you like the ring he picked out.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Promises and Pastry

Rating: T / SFW (whaaaaat?!)

Pairing: Jango Fett x Baker Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.3k

Summary: On your way to work, you stumble upon an adorable two-year-old Boba Fett, who wandered away from the bounty hunter Jango entrusted with his care. Wholesome, tooth-rotting fluff ensues. Feat. Jango Fett being a sexy single dad.

A/N: I wrote this for Father's Day. This is the last AO3 work that I needed to migrate to Tumblr, so DJ's Great Fic Migration is now complete 🖤

Warnings: fluff; canon-typical violence

Suggested listening:

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Boba Fett sits in a rundown cantina, waiting for his contact to show. The place is an absolute dive, but not even close to the worst he’s seen. The jukebox is playing an old, old song—some sentimental Arcadian jazz ditty about a lost love. The music is incongruous with the dingy setting, but something about the melody tugs at his subconsciousness. It makes him think of warm, soft arms; a gentle voice; the mouthwatering scent of freshly baked bread. Is it a memory or a dream? He can’t tell.

He finishes his drink and pushes the intrusive thoughts away, then orders another round as he waits for his new employer.

The air is crisp in the predawn hours, and only the dim glow of street lamps illuminates your path as you walk to work. Your mind is caught up with the tasks ahead of you: baking the para rolls, ryshcates, and buttersweet puffs that you assembled the previous day; mixing up tomorrow’s batches of dough; topping up the caf supplies before your barista arrives—and all of this needs to happen before you even open the shop for the day. The bakery has always been your dream, and it’s worth the early mornings to finally have a place of your own.

You are almost to the shop when you hear a strange sound. A small, distressing whimper that echoes clearly through the early-morning silence. You scan the area. Bar’leth is a Core World: a safer planet than some, but your bakery is located near one of the seedier areas. It’s an unfortunate tradeoff for the low cost of rent. You don’t see any obvious threats, but you clutch your satchel a little closer to your body, just in case. The cry comes again, and you increase your pace, eyes darting up and down the street. And then you see the source.

A tiny, weeping child huddles on the walkway. He can’t be more than two or three years old. 

“Oh, my stars,” you whisper as you hurry over to him. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

He looks up at you, wet tears clinging to his eyelashes. An adorable mop of dark curls tumbles around his face, and his tragic, golden eyes break your heart. He holds his hands up to you, and without a second thought, you scoop him up.

“Where are your parents, darling?” you ask, looking around the deserted street.

He wails something incoherent and buries his face in your shoulder. There is no sign of another living being anywhere. You rub his back consolingly and whisper gentle reassurances. Your heart has already made the decision before your mind can catch up: you can’t leave him out here. Settling him more securely in your arms, you hurry the last couple of blocks to your bakery and let yourself inside, locking the door behind you.

You flip on the lights in the kitchen, and the child ceases his wailing and takes a few shuddering gulps. You check him for injuries and find none; it seems he was merely, understandably, frightened. He peers around the bakery curiously.

“Are you thirsty?” you ask.

He nods, so you pour him a glass of water. He gulps it down while you turn on the oven, watching you with fascinated, intelligent eyes. He sloshes a bit of water on you, and you wonder how you are going to manage your workload with one hand occupied holding him. Just then, he spots a tray of day-old pastries.

“I’m hungry,” he says.

You’re relieved that he speaks Basic. Hopefully that means he can tell you where to find his parents. Your commercial kitchen is not exactly a welcoming environment for a toddler, but you set him down on a footstool and bring him a scone—the plainest one you can find, without too much sugar. Force knows the last thing you need is a toddler on a sugar high bouncing around your kitchen while you try to work.

You introduce yourself and ask, “What’s your name?”

“Boba,” he replies around a mouthful of scone. He has crumbs all over his face already; it’s impressive how quickly he made the mess.

“Boba, do you know where your parents are?”

“Dada went to work.”

“Where does your dad work?” you ask as you tie on your apron.

He shakes his head, and tears well in his eyes again. You feel something tug in your chest, and you blink back tears of your own. You’ve always been a sympathetic cryer, but your heart would have to be made of stone to not be moved by Boba’s woeful expression.

“It’s all right,” you soothe him, crouching down to brush those long curls out of his eyes. “You can stay here with me. We’ll find your dad, I promise.”

He nods with a sniffle, and then dives forward into your arms. You squeeze him tightly to you, then settle him onto your hip and get to work. Luckily, the trays are small enough that you can manage them with only one hand, but eventually, you need both hands to work. You start to shift Boba, and you realize he’s fallen asleep against you. It is far from ideal, so you retrieve a large cushion from the front of the house and set it up out of the way in the kitchen. You lay the boy gently down and get to work, amazed that he can sleep through your racket, but then again, it’s only four o’clock in the morning.

He sleeps for hours, and once you’ve finished prepping the next day’s goods, you change out of your utilitarian apron into the pretty, frilly one you wear when you’re running the register. You hear the back door open, and you turn to see your barista, Siero, staring at the sleeping child.

“What. is. that?” she asks.

“And good morning to you, too,” you say.

“Did you steal that child?” she asks suspiciously.

You roll your eyes. “No, I didn’t steal him. He was wandering alone outside the bakery. I brought him inside so he’d be safe until I can find his parents.”

“Have you checked the Holonet to see if anyone has reported him missing?” Siero asks, ever practical.

“Not yet,” you admit. “I’ve been busy getting ready to open.”

Siero pulls out her datapad and runs a quick search. “Nothing so far,” she says with a frown. “I hope you don’t expect me to watch him.”

“Of course not,” you say. “I’ll take care of him. Maybe his parents will come in. If they don’t, I’ll get in touch with the Children’s Wellness Department after we close up for the day.”

Siero shrugs and pulls on her apron. “Well, I always said you could run this place blindfolded with your hands tied. Looks like I’m about to find out.”

Boba continues to sleep as the first wave of customers makes its way through the shop. Fortunately, there’s a lull by the time he wakes up, and you’re able to take a break and sit with him at one of the tables as he eats a pedunkee mufkin and drinks a cup of hot chocolate that Siero makes for him. After that, you work the register with one hand while you carry him on your opposite hip. 

He’s a sweet boy, polite and well-mannered, and your customers are enchanted with him. They are not the only ones; you can feel yourself growing attached, even as you remind yourself how utterly foolish it is to do so. He starts to echo you every time you thank a customer for their business.

“Thank you, come back soon,” he calls, beaming a delighted grin when you laugh.

All too soon, it’s time to close up for the day. Siero heads home, and you flip the Open sign over to Closed as you begin cleaning the bakery. You turn on your favorite old-timey Arcadian jazz music and set Boba down as you sweep the floors, wipe down the tables, and clear out the display case. He follows behind you, eager to help, and you end up swooping him up and dancing with him to the music as he shrieks and giggles with joy. 

Ten hours earlier

Jango Fett limps onto the Slave I, lugging a gory bag containing the severed head of his bounty. It had been a brutal hunt—far more difficult than he’d anticipated. He should never have brought Boba with him this time. But by the time he had tracked his target to Bar’leth, it was too late to return the boy to the safety of Kamino. Instead, he’d entrusted him to the care of his not-quite-friend, sometimes-hunting-partner, Mado Kena. The Rodian had not exactly been delighted to be stuck with babysitting duty, and Jango wasn’t thrilled at the idea of leaving Boba in his care, either, but he hadn’t had much choice.

He’d tracked the bounty for hours and finally cornered him in a gambling den. It hadn’t gone well. The man fought back viciously, and Jango took a blaster bolt to his leg. Ultimately, he had killed the bastard. The bounty is lower for his corpse, but still worth enough to cover expenses. 

He can’t wait to get off this rock. He hisses with pain as he climbs the ramp to his ship and tosses the bag into the conservator.

“Mado, I’m back,” he calls. 

There is no response. The kriffer is probably holed up in his bunk. Jango pounds on the door.

“Mado, wake up, it’s time to go.”

There is no sound from the Rodian. With an exasperated sigh, Jango hits the control panel, and the door slides open. The bunk is empty. Jango stares at it for a moment, then whirls to check his own bunk. It is also empty. Cursing, he runs through the ship, checking every cubby and nook large enough to hold a toddler.

“Boba! Boba, where are you?” he calls, his voice ragged and urgent.

He comms Mado, but there is no response. Gritting his teeth, he calibrates his vambrace to track the comlink. Mado hasn’t gone far, and Jango immediately sets out to find him. His leg screams with agony, but there is no time to stop and apply bacta. He pushes through the pain, and soon tracks Mado to a squalid cantina. The hunter is passed out on one of the tables, and there is no sign of Boba.

Jango seizes Mado by his shirt and drags him to his feet. The hunter startles awake and thrashes in Jango’s grasp. The acrid scent of cheap whiskey oozes from his green skin.

“Where is my son?” Jango growls.

“Wha—what?” Mado stutters, blinking his star-flecked eyes with confusion.

“Where is Boba?” Jango’s voice is hoarse with rage and fear.

“He was just here,” Mado says as he claws at Jango’s fists to try to break his grip. “I got thirsty, so I came over for a drink. I brought him with me, I swear!”

Jango shoves the hunter back down into his seat and whirls to face the bartender. “Have you seen a little boy? He’s only two. Dark hair, brown skin.”

The bartender shrugs. “Sorry, bud, that Rodian was here when I started my shift. Didn’t see a kid with him.”

“Karabast,” Jango spits, rounding on Mado. “If any harm has come to him, there will be no place in this galaxy where you can hide.”

The Rodian cowers, and Jango strides out of the cantina, tracking the most important target of his life.

Not many things frighten Jango Fett, but as he chases through the night, his heart pounds, his stomach churns, his gloves grow damp with sweat. The darkness gives way to dawn, and then to the harsh light of morning, and still he hunts. He searches endlessly, desperately, sweeping the seedy district and working his methodical way outward into the fringes of respectable neighborhoods. There is no sign of his son, and panic claws at his throat. 

By the time the sun is high overhead, Jango is near despair. He stops to rest his throbbing leg, leaning against a building as he gasps with pain. A flash of movement in his peripheral vision catches his attention, and he turns. Across the street is a quaint little shop with a cheerful sign that reads BAKERY, and through the large windows, he sees a woman twirling with a young child. Jango stiffens.

Boba.

He launches away from the wall and storms across the street, slamming the bakery door open with a shout. “Boba!”

You scream and cower away, shielding the boy with your body. Jango stalks toward you, a huge and intimidating figure in Mandalorian armor.

“Please don’t hurt us!” you cry. “I haven’t cleared the till yet. You can take all the credits, just please, please don’t hurt him.”

Jango skids to a halt. “Hurt him?”

“He’s just a child,” you beg. “Please.”

Jango raises his hands slowly, telegraphing that he’s not a threat. Currently. He breaks the seal on his helmet and removes it, setting it on the table next to him.

“My name is Jango Fett. Boba is my son,” he says.

Your terrified gaze darts to his face. Your hand is cupping Boba’s head protectively, but the boy twists in your arms when he hears his father’s voice.

“Dada!” Boba shrieks, pushing away from you.

You set the boy down with obvious reluctance, and he runs to Jango, who scoops him up into a tight embrace. He clutches Boba to his chest as he examines him for injuries.

“How did he come to be wandering the streets alone in the middle of the night?” you ask, more than a hint of judgment in your tone.

“My friend was supposed to be watching him while I was at work,” Jango replied. “Former friend, I reckon. I’ve been searching for him for hours.”

Boba is babbling happily. You can only understand about half of what he says, but Jango listens gravely to the boy.

“Is that so?” he asks. He shifts his attention to you, and you swallow nervously under the intensity of his scrutiny. “He says you gave him hot chocolate.”

You feel a hot flush wash over you at the disapproval you infer from his words. “Well, it was either that or caf, and I didn’t want to see what would happen if we gave a toddler a double shot of espresso.”

“Thank you for taking care of him,” he says, and his voice is filled with so much relief that you soften instantly. 

“I’m glad you found him. He’s a sweet boy.” After a moment’s hesitation, you speak again. “Would you like something to eat? I’ve just closed up for the day, but we have a few things left.”

Jango looks surprised at your offer, but he accepts gladly. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

You pull together an assortment of savory and sweet pastries: a vagnerian canapé, a water-chicken meat pie, a tal-toori, and dameapple turnover. Then you brew a large cup of caf and set it all on the table for him. He has collapsed into one of your big, comfortable armchairs, and Boba is resting against his armored chest. Without his helmet, you can see that he is remarkably handsome, and you smile at the way he rests his cheek on his son’s riotous curls. He looks exhausted; deep circles carved under his eyes—eyes that are exactly the same beautiful, rich brown as Boba’s—and there is a shadow of stubble on his jaw. The Arcadian jazz continues to play, and you pick up your broom to continue cleaning as Jango eats. Boba calls out your name and reaches for you.

“No, Boba,” Jango chides. “Leave the pretty lady alone. She has work to do.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, holding out your arms to Boba. 

Jango shrugs and hands his son back to you so he can attack his plate in earnest. You dance as you work, much to Boba’s delight. Jango watches you, admiring the way your body sways to the music. He isn’t blind; he can see that you are a beautiful woman, and he takes a moment to appreciate the way a few strands of hair have worked themselves free from your simple bun to curl in a halo around your face. He realizes that he’s been holding a pastry halfway to his mouth as he watches you twirl and play with his son. He crams the rest hastily into his mouth and takes a long drink of caf to wash it down. 

The food is good. Delicious, actually. He’s been eating ration bars for weeks, and he’s almost forgotten what real food tastes like. The warm light of the early afternoon spills into the bakery and bathes the room in a tranquil golden haze. He notices now that there are cheerful vases of fresh flowers on each table, and a low shelf full of books against one wall. 

Kriff, he’s so tired. He stretches his legs out gingerly, feeling the ache of his blaster wound. He leans back in the soft chair, just for a moment. Just to rest his leg before making the long walk back to the Slave I.

You finish cleaning the bakery and get everything staged for the next morning, and when you and Boba return to the front of house, you find Jango asleep in your armchair. You finally get a good look at him without feeling quite so awkward and intimidated. He looks younger; his guarded expression relaxes into softness. His head is tilted back, leaving the thick, brown column of his throat exposed. His shoulders are impressively broad, and while some of that bulk is clearly due to his armor, you suspect that most of it is just Jango.

With a tiny smile, you retrieve a picture book from your shelf and settle into another armchair with Boba on your lap. The boy snacks on the leftover scraps from his father’s plate, even though you offer to get him a plate of his own. You read to him until he falls asleep, cuddled safely in your arms.

Jango lurches awake, staring wildly around him, his body tensed for violence. He’s disoriented for a moment, but then he sees you, curled up in an armchair across from him, Boba nestled securely against you. Both of you are fast asleep. He stands, flexing his leg experimentally. He’s not sure how long he was out, but judging by the angle of the sun, it’s been a few hours. He crosses to your armchair and gazes down at you and Boba. Something like tenderness is in his eyes as he smooths your hair out of your face.

Your eyes flutter open at his touch, and you smile up at him drowsily.

“I need to get going,” he says quietly, careful not to wake his son.

You nod your understanding and rise to your feet. He takes Boba and settles him against his shoulder. You help him put on his helmet, and he presses his free fist to his chest in a gesture of respect, careful not to jostle the boy.

“Thank you again,” he says sincerely. “For everything.”

“Of course,” you say. “Tell Boba to come visit me again sometime.”

“He’d like that,” Jango says. 

You walk him to the door and watch as he and Boba disappear down the streets of Bar’leth, and as you stand alone in your bakery, the music continues to play.

“Boba Fett?” a man asks. He is wearing civilian clothes, but the stick up his ass has Boba willing to bet a thousand credits that he’s Imperial military.

Boba nods his head.

“The very man I was hoping to find," the man says. His clipped, affected Coruscanti accent grates on Boba's temper."The Empire requires your service. I’m to deliver you personally to Lord Vader’s ship.”

Boba finishes his drink and wordlessly follows the man, and the song plays on in the empty cantina.

---

Tagging:

@secondaryrealm @blueink-bluesoul @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu

This fic has artwork!

[princessmoms]

Do you have any voice claim ideas for the kiddos :>?

No not really. I have a vague idea of a vocal range for them but no specific voice claims tbh. There's too many cool VAs to pick from. I'll only do a few next kiddos here, I also have to many to prick from.

Dusk Eclipse has a lower voice and is cool, methodical and kinda broody. Possible a voice like Jeremy Jordans (ala Varian from Tangled- specifically his singing voice though..) but maybe a better match is Alejandro Saab (LINK)

Nova Dawn is like, typical disney princess voice but a bit more coarser. Part of me loves the idea that she straight up sounds like Sunset but with a higher pitch. MAYBE Kimiko Glenn, because I love Kimiko Glenn. (LINK)

Solar Flare could use any typical tomboy or lady knight voice. Marin Miller probably. (LINK)

Lulu has a very deep voice, she talks slowly, calmy and warmly. Like a lullaby as her namesake. This one is hardest for me to pick, best match I can think of is something like Inka Magnaya (LINK)

Chriki is the toughest one to pick for because I'd like them to have a large range considering shapeshifter but some options that I like are Erika Ishii (LINK) Ciarán Strange (LINK) Eden Espinosa (LINK) or Morgan Clae (LINK) Like I said.. tough

Flurry Heart uhhhhhhh so not sure about this one either. Myabe I'll go for an easy pick and say Cristina Vee.

[bennie0315]

Aziraphale in season 2:

"Let's see, could you play something that's got a bit of swing? I'm in the mood for something~modern~. But not Bebop."

Proceeds to play "Moonlight Serenade" by Glenn Miller, 1939, a classic ww2 era song...

Aziraphale is clearly behind, just a little, and I know that's normal for him, but what if he's still stuck in that specific time period because that's when he realised he was in love with crowley 😔

[snowseasonmademe]

On today’s

deonn’s music monday’s (on a wednesday)🎼

i will be sharing my favorite jazz song currently!

note: i know everyone is probably a sleep i’m sorry im posting this so late.

jazz is probably one of my top three favorite genres. i’m still discovering new jazz artist, new and old. i hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think🤎.

my french queen

i love me some patti page. i also really like her song called old cape cod.

who doesn’t love sam cooke?

i sing this song everyday

discovered this song in french class and i loveee it

his voice is just so timeless

remember seeing her play her cello on my tiktok fyp in 2021 and i immediately went to spotify to find all her music and im so happy i did. she and eartha kitt were my intro to jazz.

ohh my dear dean martin

the queen of jazz herself

note: i wanted to add an honorable mention bc i love this song to bits but i can’t put another song. it’s “it’s been a long, long time” by kitty hallen and harry james. this is such a great list. as you can see i prefer older jazz. i also have a lot more french jazz songs on my jazz playlist and i love the sound of the music mixed with the beautiful language that french is. anyways yall, hope you like the songs, see yall on the next segment ;)

[no-sleep-fox]

Got a lil design going for Love Dog

And I also got some names for my critters w/a bit of whipped up info at the moment for this gal under the cut if folks want to see it

Love Dog, or LD for now, is gonna still be a rejected toy within the au. However, instead of being happy or something like some other LDs could be in other aus, she's more grumpy. Being rather closed off around others and wanting to keep to herself even if she wants to be around them.

She has lived up on the rougher side of the factory, taking care of herself and her sister, whom will be Petite Pooch. LD is usually the one to go out and about in other parts of the factory, to which she had found out more about 1006's clut. Making her not like them even more than she had when the HOJ had been going on.

That's all I'mma probably put down, however, perhaps one day y'all will get to see her interact with some of the other characters in my au. For now, here are the names for each critter (both SC & NC).

Catnap → Mallory

Dogday → Hunter

Hoppy → Elizabeth

Bobby → Rosabella

Crafty → Ema

Kickin → Maurice

Picky → Kelsey (Glenn) Thompson

Bubba → Lance Thompson

Baba → Tempest

Allister → Derrick Miller

Icky → Spencer

Rabie → Lara

Maggie → Madison

Poe → Caden

Touille → Alden

Simon → Ryan

[glowinggreeneyes-e]

In honour of PSC’s interview, here’s the Captain and Havers dancing:

Momentarily, the Captain unplugged his headset and turned the machine’s output to its speakers, lowering its volume to a comfortable level. “It’s variety hour on the Forces Programme, so we’ll have to settle with the BBC Home Service, I’m afraid,” he said, mostly to himself, as the mature timbre from a woman’s voice crackled through the speakers, accompanied by a few wind instruments fluttering with notes at the high end of their range. He shook his head as he heard the recording mellowed out into a presenter. “They always play the most melancholic of tunes at night, do they not think some classical gusto or perhaps uplifting melodies would be more appropriate?”

“I think people want to listen to a song that reflects how they are feeling. And did you dishonour both Frances Langford and Falling in Love With Love in front of me?” Havers shook his head disapprovingly. He guessed that they could turn off their professional idiosyncrasies at this point, and he was glad to be rid of it.

The Captain suppressed a grin at his Lieutenant’s charming yet biting comment. “I suppose I did. But I did not realise you held any strong opinions about music.”

“I did not realise you held so few. Though, I should not be at all surprised,” Havers returned the shot, leaning against the back of the chair.

When he tilted back his neck, stretching and sprawling his legs out under the desk, the Captain glanced over the lengths of soft, exposed skin.

Remembering he should be offended by essentially being called uncultured, the Captain cleared his throat to shake off his flustering state. He unknowingly squinted at Havers in the same manner as when he was exposed to something queer. “Now, whatever do you mean by that?”

“I’ve never seen you dance or enjoy music: you never put on records of your own volition and whenever you turn on the BBC you prefer their breaking news, bulletins, and updates from the front. Would it hurt you to switch your brain off and enjoy a bit of this?” the Lieutenant gestured vaguely to the new song coming through on the airwaves.

“I-I enjoy the works of Vera Lynn; she’s got a wonderful voice. And the talents of Glenn Miller and his orchestra,” the Captain replied without considering an actual thought-out rebuttal.

Immediately, he recoiled; his first thought was that Havers would spiel judging words for his overtly formal talk and by virtue of holding such an inoffensive opinion - that was the reaction he had known to expect from anyone else. When he managed to look at Havers, he was met by a nonchalant expression and a raised eyebrow that prompted him to go on.

“To tell you the truth, Havers, I don’t think I have danced in my entire adulthood.”

“Would you like to?”

It was the lack of ceremony that caught the Captain off-guard by the proposition. If the past month had all been a dream, nothing marked the end of it quite as much as a dance. But reality demanded he react instead of replay the moment.

He stumbled to reply, unfortunately having the effect of being uninterested; he’d had all kinds of thoughts about the Lieutenant in their time together, but not one was ‘uninterested’.

Havers hung his head, lightly laughing away his suggestion. “I apologise. You don’t want to dance with a man.”

“No! No- I-” the Captain struggled to string a sentence together in his head, let alone verbalise anything. Thinking quickly, he got to his feet and extended his arm down with his palm upturned. He knew he didn’t look the picture of a dancer, or that he was particularly handsome enough to ask to dance, but he wanted to try in the safe presence and direction of Havers. “They’re playing Moonlight Serenade… it’s my favourite.”

Havers considered the outstretched hand, only briefly, before slipping their fingers together as he joined his CO on the makeshift dance floor. The Captain stood close, his eyes capering over the man holding his hand as if he hadn’t long-admired the Lieutenant’s almond eyes and heart-shaped jaw and, well, his quite strapping arms. He coveted the features of his second-in-command every day, never bored of beholding them: the pointy tips of his ears, the brown stubble that lightly scrabbled beneath his skin, and the sculpture of his lips.

Something - or things - had changed within the Captain, gradually. Then the other night, in the shed with his Lieutenant, marvelling at their limpet mine, revelations had rained down all at once like comets falling across the sky above. He could no longer ignore the younger man standing before him, already providing serendipitous companionship and neat ends to his beginnings. He’d come to accept what he felt was more than a mere fondness for Havers; he wanted his heart to decide on his idolatrous fate, though his head wanted to know if Havers was receptive to more. Above all new revelations, it was that ‘if’ which hurt most to think about.

Briefly recalling Officer Jones’ enigmatic words on New Year’s Eve, and luckily not those of his father, he conceived that he was hurting himself. He could fend off his family’s expectations from beyond their graves for now. They had served their purpose, they meant well, but his new life at Button House had demanded he had to change. Perhaps too quickly. There was no time to unpack all that; there was a War on, after all.

They had a restrictive space to move in, shutting down the opportunity to practise dancing in any traditional styles, so Havers led them to the centre of the floor’s open square feet and decided the song deserved a slow-pacing movement. He instructed the Captain to place his free hand on his waist, where his uniform belt sat, while he held the Captain’s shoulder.

“It’s in four-four time, so start by stepping outside foot outside, inside foot outside, repeat, together, then change direction,” Havers demonstrated in small steps.

Eye to eye, it was initially much harder for the Captain to concentrate on how to move, enamoured by Havers’ easygoing guidance. In spite of this, he copied the instructions, mirroring his movements. The Lieutenant drifted between stages of the dance self-assuredly, ignoring every mistake and continuing on. Fairly soon, the Captain got used to the rhythm and lost in the song, though his heart stuttered where words would fail should he have had to speak. The proximity was dizzying.

Havers was soon happy enough to introduce another part to his lesson.

“Like a circle, then together, apart,” he reassured as they turned around in the office together.

It was a little clumsy at first, with almost every step nearly causing a twisted ankle, until the Captain had steadied his arms and strides. The song didn’t demand more creative actions so they switched between the two gaits. The Captain nervously laughed once they had successfully changed direction, but he kept his head up like he was told. Havers always carried himself with governing conviction which continued into the dance; the Captain enjoyed being subordinate for once.

The orchestral Serenade ended with a melodic coda of wind instruments which they matched with smooth, gliding pivots.

As the song faded into another instrumental piece, this one somehow slower, they didn’t let go of each other. They kept watch of the other man, looking for the slightest hint that they should call it off and step back, but that never came.

“Hold me closer,” Havers directed soothingly, “the song… it’ll suit it better.”

The Captain moved his hand, almost paralysed from being held so still on Havers’ waist, around the man’s back until it could nearly cup the other side of his torso. There, he let it relax, and slowly his body melted from its previous rigidity. Their hips were almost pinned together, in fact when they started moving it was hard to keep any distance between their bodies.

Havers was nearly in raptures when he felt the Captain take on the leading role. When they pulled in their still-interlocked hands close to their chests, the rest of the room dissolved away into a shallow blur.

“Are there any more moves for this sort of song?” the Captain asked, trying to cover his drying throat and scratching vocal chords.

“Not exactly. By this point, couples would rest their heads together, maybe the woman would place her head on the man’s chest or shoulder. It’s meant to be a sensual moment. Some songs, like this one, are meant to be heard by only two people at once. Together.”

As Havers’ friend, the shared intimate space was sacred and Orphean. In uniform - as the Lieutenant’s CO - he suddenly felt disturbed. Thoughts intruded on his serene moment, biting at his contentment with guilt-ridden rhetoric. It was in his own voice, his father’s voice, every superior’s voice, that these thoughts flooded his working memory.

How could you be so selfish? How could you betray your rank? Your country? Your sensibilities? How dare you abandon hierarchy and the War and proper priorities? How could you allow your mind to be corrupted? Are you that weak?

Again, the friction in his mind overwhelmed him easily. “Sorry, I think the tiredness has hit me all at once,” the Captain said as he broke off their embrace.

But Havers kept him close, holding the Captain by his waist then quickly moving his hands to a more appropriate grasp on his biceps. He held the Captain’s gaze, unwavering. “Something has been troubling you for a while now.”

(They need to have many difficult conversations; but locked in the arms of the other it is a bit easier)

[dreamcast641]

Thank you @islandtarochips for the tag!

A little list to showcase your OC's favorite things

-Name: Claire Ekaterina Makarova

-Universe: SCP foundation(she is in others but those are AUs)

-Favorite book(and why): 1984 by George Orwell. Generally Claire's reading is limited on scientific books, biology ones in particular as she loves to expand her knowledge on her field but she finds old readings rather interesting and she took a particular liking in Orwell's writings, animal farm is also one of these.

-Favorite song: Dark beach by pastel ghost. She finds a somewhat sense of peace in this kind of electronic music. She loves the muffled singing.

-Favorite piece of clothing they own: It wasn't like this at the start, but when she gained a bit of confidence she started to love the elegant dress she uses to go clubbing. She would look at herself in the mirror, sometimes admiring how it brings up her features and how her untie hair match it so well;

-Favorite "little treat": Claire is a sweet lover. She is a chocolate and strawberry fan for sure and those two mixed together is the end for her. Id say then the strawberries deep in any kind of chocolate are her favorite in absolutely;

-Favorite person in their lives: Claire does not hold preference for anyone. She gets affectionate to who she loves in the same way;

-Dream home: a cottage in a isolate area in the mountains;

-Dream life: A life of freedom where she isn't tie to anything or anyone again. She wants to explore the world without pressures, without fear of dying.

-Name: Dmitry Vasilij Makarov

-Universe: SCP foundation (others as well but those are AUs)

-Favorite book (and why): the interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud. Despite Dmitry finding Freud methods outdated and often telling that we advanced a lot when it comes to psychoanalisis, he also find some of his readings interesting such as the dream related ones. He doesn't take seriously the book tho, but rather a start to continue his studies and finding new discoveries about the oniric that others would not know.

-Favorite song: Dmitry does not have a favorite song, however he listen to ambient sounds when he's working. The beach waves one being his favorite.

-Favorite piece of clothing they own: a black sweater with turtleneck that you can often see under his labcoat. There is no particular reason for him to like it, he just comfortable with anything that covers his skin completely.

-Favorite "little treat": He sometimes find himself to buy the buldak ramen when he has nothing else to make for lunch or dinner, not that he eats that often tho. The ramen thing has probably become a dependence and also he can handle spice well.

-Favorite person in their lives: It might sound like a joke because at first glance it would be impossible to know that this man has a favorite person but instead there is and is Maria, the mother that took him when his biological one left for the GOC.

-Dream home: Something small near the beach. It's gonna be climatized tho as he can't handle the heat at all. But he would just be there for the sound of the waves crashing on the sand.

-Dream life: He never thought of what life could be outside the foundation walls but he would have loved to raise a terrarium with snakes.

-Name: Evelyn "Mandy" Ross.

-Universe: SCP foundation

-Favorite book (and why): The book thief by Markus Zusak. Being a veteran of WW2 who served as a nurse for the US army at the time, she often find herself to read about what happened in the past, as some sort of closure to the trauma that she went through. She has read them all, her guts wrenching everytime at what she never saw and that was under her nose all this time. She took a particular liking in the book thief as somewhat she relates to Lesiel, the protagonist.

-Favorite song: Over the rainbow by Judy Garland/Glenn Miller. One of the most beloved cinema music and also one beloved to her as well as she listened to it once before drafting herself for the war. It holds so much memories for her both bad and good and often find herself playing it for her children when those cried as babies.

-Favorite piece of clothing they own: Mandy still has the blue cape that nurses used during ww2. She still keeps it on her shoulders.

-Favorite "little treat": snickers!

-Favorite person in their lives: even tho she holds no contact with any of them, Mandy is still fond of her two children, Claire and Dmitry.

-Dream home: A little home in a rural area, where the town is small and there is no much people.

-Dream life: Mandy holds so much regret for her decisions, she would love to go back in the past and change it all. She would love to become a doctor and help people without being forced to a life in prison. She wish she was never born with her anomaly.

-Name: Lilja Järvinen

-Universe: Rainbow Six Siege

-Favorite book (and why): Anything related to k9 training. Ofc, as a dog trainer who is hyperfixated on anything related to that, she has a vast collection of books that point at dogs and their training for the forces.

-Favorite song: Killer by Mareux

-Favorite piece of clothing they own: Any baggy clothes in her drawer. There is no particular reason for it, just that she is more comfortable with them on. The only problem is that she often stumbles on her own pants while walking.

-Favorite "little treat": She concede herself a trail of cinnamon rolls at least once every week. She usually takes them from her local bakery, nowadays they even prepare so before so she could be served immediately, not that she ever complains of course, shes a usual customer after all.

-Favorite person in their lives: at the moment she feels that she has no favorite in her life. She isn't that much close to any of the other operators and she finds herself often overthinking that somehow she is annoying to them.

-Dream home: her own childhood home is her dream home. It's was a farm with livestock and shepherd dogs not so far from a small town. That's where she gained passion for training dogs and improving that with the use of her knowledge in robotics.

-Dream life: She never really thinks about that, at the moment she is content with what she has.

[cosplayinamerica]

 Corey Paul of @bebopbountybigband

 I was immediately drawn to Cowboy Bebop the first time I heard the theme song play on Toonami in the mid-2000s. As a young band geek and anime lover, I was instantly captivated. You could say I fell in love with the soundtrack before I ever even watched the show, but wow. It’s not often all the elements come together to create a magnificent piece of art and storytelling with unique and exciting music interwoven with equally unique and exciting story lines. The characters and dialogue are every bit as poetic and thrilling as the music written to accompany them.

There’s so much I’m still learning and at the beginning I was making it up as I went along! The music transcription was a long process of sitting down with these recordings and painstakingly listening for each and every note that the band plays so that I could write it down and recreate it. Thankfully, it was such a joy to get intimately familiar with Yoko Kanno’s writing. She’s such a genius! Putting it together was the easy part. I’ve played professionally in Florida for many years now and I have a lot of world-class musicians that aren’t just my close friends, but are absolutely perfect for the band. Each member has been hand picked for their unique skills and style to put together the best show possible! In terms of finance and marketing, at first it was super confusing. I’m a musician first <B>after all! Luckily, I now have a wonderful administrative team that helps me with the non-music stuff.

The members I chose to make up the band include the greatest musicians I’ve had the pleasure of playing with. Much of the band is made up of pros from the Jazz at Lincoln Center franchise, the World Famous Glenn Miller Orchestra, the Walt Disney Company, and solo artists with followings of their own. Most of the band became Cowboy Bebop fans after joining the band and playing the music. Others, like myself, have been long time fans. Now we all mutually love the series and all that it has to offer!

We have 2 tours currently announced and a lot more on the way! Our first tour ever is coming up starting on November 30th in Atlanta and we are all super excited to show what we’ve made to people all over the country. Eventually, even the world! We have some more awesome shows involving new cities and new conventions that we’re getting ready to announce soon for Cowboy Bebop LIVE! 

____________________________

Bebop Bunty Big Band o tour currently

Cowboybeboplive.com

[theeminentlyimpractical]

Alright I’ve gone fully fandom unhinged and made a playlist for the first time since the year of our lord 2008 or so.  

AKA - Aziraphale's Road Trip Mixtape

AKA - The Bentley is a Correct Bitch 💅

This is about 98% serious and 2% shitpost. You have been warned. The shitpost bit is (mostly) placed at the end so uh, apologies to those of you who don’t pay for Spotify and shall have the shitsong(s) sprung upon you at random.

Track listing:

Joséphine Baker, Afraid to Dream

Franz Liszt, Mephisto Waltz No. 4

Fred Astaire, Cheek to Cheek

Jean-Phillipe Rameau, Suite Les Indes Galante / Air Pour Les Sauvages

Glenn Miller, Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree

Benny Goodman ft Martha Hilton, You’re a Sweet Little Headache

Hoagy Carmichael, Stardust

Camile Saint-Saens, Danse Macabre

Ella Fitzgerald, A Foggy Day 🤗 !!!SHITPOSTING BREAK!!! 🤗

Liberace, Chopsticks

Connor Engstrom, Danse Macabre (Metal Version)

[NB: I chose to not include anything beyond the year 1950 aside from the shitposting songs, because you know our boy doesn’t keep up.]

Liner notes:

Track One Joséphine Baker, Afraid to Dream

Here we are, two silhouettes in the blue Here we are, bidding the stardust adieu I'm afraid to dream Afraid that you may not be there Afraid to dream - without you life would seem so bare With open arms I call to you, I want you, dear Just as I reach for you - why do you disappear?

Track Two Franz Liszt, Mephisto Waltz No. 4

Aziraphale was full in on Lisztomania, especially the Faustian stuff. That is all.

Track Three Fred Astaire, Cheek to Cheek

Heaven, I'm in heaven And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak And I seem to find the happiness I seek When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek

Track Four Jean-Phillipe Rameau, Suite Les Indes Galante / Air Pour Les Sauvages

Jane Austen’s favorite song. No further notes.

Track Five Glenn Miller, Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree

I won’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but you Till you come marching home I know the apple tree is reserved for you and me And I’ll be true ’til you come marching home

Track Six Benny Goodman ft Martha Hilton, You’re a Sweet Little Headache

You're a sweet little headache Full of quaint little schemes But when I should forget you I let you disturb my dreams

Track Seven Hoagy Carmichael, Stardust

Beside the garden wall, when stars are bright You are in my arms The nightingale tells his fairy tale Of paradise where roses grew. Though I dream in vain, in my heart you will remain My stardust melody The memory of love’s refrain

Track Eight Camile Saint-Saens, Danse Macabre

Aziraphale def championed The Carnival of the Animals, but secretly really likes this one.

Track Nine Ella Fitzgerald, A Foggy Day

How long I wondered, Could this thing last But the age of miracles hadn't past For suddenly, I saw you there And through foggy London town, The sun was shining everywhere

—— Shitposting checkpoint, feel free to stop listening here ——

Track Ten - the shitpost - Liberace, Chopsticks

You know this campy bitch would love this. 🤗 No further notes.

Track Eleven - the shitpost that got left in the car - Connor Engstrom, Danse Macabre (Metal Version)

This sounds almost exactly like the Theme That Got Left in the Car and I couldn’t leave it alone, the Bentley would play it just to be a jackass, I will take no feedback.

[timefadesaway]

em yesterday I was at a market & a guy there sold me a box with 27 vinyls in them for 2 euros😭 it has shirley bassey, glenn miller, the every brothers, fats dominoes, neil diamond & more!!!!!

OMG that’s so awesome how lucky !!!!!! that’s such a nice mix omg and for 2 euros what a steal ❤️ i love fats im a bit jealous 😁