#MAYFAIR TAG SAVE ME

[namelessbenji]

ARE THERE ANY MAYFAIR WATCHERS FANS HERE PLEASE I NEED IT PLEASE

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field XIV

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation (both of them lowkey)

masterlists // nav // requests

a/n: omg so the next part has over 5k words and its not even close to being done?? should i post it all at once or break it up?? lmk your thoughts! also!! i think there's only two parts left omg... BUT do not fear bc i'm also writing another little thing for this and i feel like i'll keep doing that :)

series masterlist

You run back out to the stage, just as the Covey band's song is about to end. It was the last one, you thought, if their at home rehearsals were any indicator. You climb back up the side with an exaggerated stumble in your step, drawing the attention of Lucy Gray. She gave you a confused look, having expected that you and Coriolanus would be quite busy, especially after your song. She didn't expect you back on stage at all that night.

You smile and take the mic before she can say goodnight to the audience. "How about one more? I've had a second wind!" You say, looking to the band for their approval. Everyone besides Lucy Gray just giggles at you and nods.

"Alrighty, well, we'd really love to but our Sage here has clearly had a bit to drink and needs to get home." Lucy Gray tries to save it with a joke.

"Oh, come on, Lucy Gray. Live a little!" You laugh, playfully nudging her shoulder. "Who wants one more!" You call out which is returned with whistles and claps of encouragement.

"Alright, alright. Just one more, though." She agrees, smile returning to her face as he shakes her head.

The song ends and the band is packing up, and you can only hope that Coryo is long gone. The floor empties out, and you watch as Maude Ivory hops off the stage.

"Hey, Maude Ivory!" You call after her, hiding the sense of urgency in your voice. "Hey, can you help me clean up the floor before you grab a drink? I'll grab you your water." You offer, hurrying behind her to keep her from going to the back room. You didn't want her to see the bodies you assumed were still back there.

"Yes ma'am." She nods, giving you a quick salute.

"It's not a lot today, just a few bottles we can reuse." You smile at her as she skips out to start at the opposite edge of the room. "Lucy Gray, c'mere." You call to her as she closes up her old guitar case.

"You okay?" She asks, confused by your sudden sobriety.

"Come with me." You whisper, leading her into the back hallway in front of the door.

She follows, worry creased into her brow. Suddenly, she notes the red spots across the front of your dress which were almost invisible under the stage lights and among the red accents of the fabric.

"Something happened, okay? You can't let them come back here." You insist, referring to her family. "And you can't tell anyone."

"What?" She asks in a hushed tone, glancing past you toward the door. "Is it Coriolanus?"

Before you can explain, she's pushing past you and shoving the door open. You follow her quickly, reaching your arms around her to cover her mouth to keep any kind of reaction from being heard. You effectively muffle a cry of shock, and she's shoving you away and turning to face you. "That's- that's Billy Taupe, and, and Mayfair-"

"Shh-" You hush her quickly. "It was self-defense, okay? She was going to get us all killed. You included."

"I- no, I don't-" She tries to articulate her thoughts as her eyes fill with tears.

"I know, okay? It's less than ideal. Coryo is handling it. We just have to stay quiet." You promise. "Let's just grab everything and bring it all out, pretend you saw nothing. Maude Ivory and CC can't see this, do you understand?"

She nods, sniffling and looking between the bodies. "Hey, don't look at them." You remind her, gently turning her chin toward you. "They hurt you. Now you can move on, okay?"

"Okay." She whispers shakily, nodding again as you gather all the Covey's backstage supplies to bring out.

The next morning, you're awoken to a pounding on the front door of the small home, the four of you who shared a room all shooting up at once.

You scramble to get a peek out the window, spotting the grey shade of peacekeeper uniforms and cursing.

"Who- who is it?" Maude Ivory asks, scared as she looks between you and Lucy Gray.

"Peacekeepers. Lucy Gray, we have to go." You say quickly, closing the shade and grabbing your dress and Lucy Gray's arm.

"What? What's happening?" Barb Azure asks, rubbing her eyes.

"They're going to bust in if you don't open the door. Just tell them Lucy Gray isn't home. Don't mention me and if they ask, you don't know who I am. Do you understand?" You ask frantically and the girl nods fearfully.

As quickly as possible, you and Lucy Gray are flying out the back door and making a sprint for the trees behind the house.

"Any sign of the guns, or the girl? Mayor Lipp is sure she did it, or at least knows who did." A gruff voice of one of the peacekeepers has you and Lucy Gray both looking at each other, hands clutched over your mouths to keep quiet.

"None." His comrade replies, standing almost directly beneath you after they searched the yard. Clearly not very thoroughly, if they didn't see you and Lucy Gray sitting only about ten feet above their heads.

You cringe as he walks right over your garden, crushing the blooming raspberry bushes. "They arrested Plinth. Just got word, apparently, he was involved with rebels." The first man speaks again, and your eyes widen.

"Plinth? He's two beds down from me. Didn't expect that from him. He's a nice guy."

"No, I know. Anyway, he'll be executed this afternoon." You have to bite your lip to keep it from shaking under your hand, as if somehow that could give you away.

"Whatever, we'll come back later to get her." One of them says, making their way back through the house.

You hide in the branches and leaves until you're sure they're gone before carefully unsticking yourself from the ridged bark you were sitting on for far too long. You carefully climb down after Lucy Gray, making a quick effort to pull any stray sticks of leaves from your hair.

"What are we gonna do? They think I did it, I didn't do it, they'll kill me!" Lucy Gray panics, and you think about it while you quickly change into your dress.

"I think you have we have to run. Like you planned to do. We just have to follow through." You tell her, nodding to yourself.

Lucy Gray sighs, tipping her head back to look up at the sky. "I didn't even really want to go, I just wanted to get Billy Taupe off my ass."

"Well, he won't be there now." You say, looking her over. "How were they going to break that girl out?"

"Lil?" Lucy Gray asks, confused as she looks back at you. "I... I don't know, but it doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Did they have a plan? Did they write it down anywhere?" You ask again.

"Well, yes, but they didn't write it down. It was too risky."

"Tell it to me. Every detail you can remember." You urge her, trying to settle the panic rising behind your ribs.

Coriolanus had been out all morning with his team, looking for the weapon that killed the mayor's daughter and praying every moment that they wouldn't find it. After breaking down the doors of countless homes, he thought he would start to feel better. There was no way they would be caught, but he was regretting not taking the initiative to hide them himself. That way, he would at least know.

With his issued weapon in his hand, they were pacing down a desolate street. By now the whole district knew to lock themselves away, except for whoever he just saw in his peripheral vision through a narrow sidestreet. He turns his head fully, just catching the ends of their hair and the red in their short dress before they disappeared. He stops, quickly taking the turn into the side street and looking back to make sure no one had seen him depart from the group.

With the bag of tools thrown over your shoulder, you tried your very best to be quiet while walking through the city. Walking down a sidestreet, you found it was a challenge to be both fast and silent. At the sound of footsteps behind you, you hold the bag in your arms to prevent the tools from knocking together and step into a narrow doorway, back pressed to the wall.

You're breathing heavily, but keep it steady as the footsteps on the gravel of the road come to a stop. You hear them turn, presumably looking in both directions. You're in the middle of cursing yourself for being spotted when you hear a whistle. A calling one, baiting you to peek out from your hiding spot, but you don't budge. Another whistle. "Hey, Y/N? Is that you?" The whistle is followed by Coryo's voice whispering your name, and you're infinitely relieved.

You stepped out quietly, and you couldn't help but smile when you saw his familiar face. He meets you halfway, and you're quickly wrapping your arms around him. "Coryo..." You sigh, not ready to let go of him just yet.

"Hey, Y/N/N..." He whispers back, kissing your head. "Are you okay? What are you doing out? You need to get home."

"I can't." You shake your head, finally dropping your arms from around him. "Did you hear Sejanus got arrested this morning? He's going to be executed."

Coryo is in shock, jaw going slack as he tries to decide what to say. It must have been his recording, because there was nothing linking him to the murders.

"I'm going to break him out. Like they planned to do for that other girl."

Instantly at your statement, he shakes his head. "Absolutely not. You'll be caught and you'll be next. There's a poster of you in the head peacekeeper's office. I've seen it. They're looking for you here, it's too risky."

"I'm not going to let Sejanus die over something he didn't even do." You whisper, voice picking up in anger as you glare up at him.

"You can't, Y/N. I get why you'd want to, but it's not worth it." He insists.

"They won't catch us. I'm getting him out and we're running, just like they planned to do anyway."

Coryo scans your face for any sign at all that you may be kidding, but he finds none. "Don't. Don't go. I wanted to tell you this last night, but they're relocating me to Two. You can come with me. I'll get us both out of here."

"Closer to home?" You ask, a hint of hopefulness flitting in your eyes before it's quickly replaced with sadness. "Wait, no. No, they'll ship me back home, and then what? I'll be killed anyway, or worse." You sigh, shaking your head as you look down. This is probably about to turn into a goodbye you never wanted to say.

The idea of leaving him behind was breaking your heart, but would you really be leaving him? You knew what would happen to him. He'd go to Two, rise quickly in the ranks, and be elected president by the time he turned twenty-five. He would be okay, but would you be without him? You couldn't stomach the idea of taking such a bright future from him just because you had nothing left. "I have to go with them, Coryo. It's my only choice."

He can already see that there is no shot you'll be happy out there. You probably wouldn't last the week, either. He nods a little bit, taking your hand. "I'll come with you." He nods again, deciding it for himself. Coriolanus Snow is not about to say goodbye to the love of his life for the last time as someone she was pretending to be but never truly was, nothing more than a rebel from District Twelve.

"No, your relocation, it's your ticket home. You have to take it." You reply.

"It doesn't matter. If they find the gun, I'll be killed either way. Here, in Two, or back home. I can't escape it, same as you." He promises. "There's nothing for me there anyway. Not without you." Coryo says, rubbing his thumb gently over the side of your neck, warming the chilled skin there.

How could you say no? "Okay." You whisper, nodding slightly as your cheeks flush pink. "Can you leave tonight?"

"Uh, I, no." He shakes his head. "Earliest I can get away is sunrise."

"Shit... okay." You hum, looking around as if that will help you think. Undistracted from his all-consuming blue eyes looking into yours. "We can try and wait, then meet us at the hanging tree at dawn. If we're not there, hike to the cabin. We'll wait there if we can't hide here overnight."

He nods in confirmation, looking quickly over his shoulder as you both hear cheers and whoops of excitement making their way down the street toward you. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow." He agrees.

"See you tomorrow." You give him a small smile, turning to continue on your way when he grabs your wrist. He's quick to pull you back to him, colliding his lips with yours. He always kisses like he's starving. God, you wouldn't be able to live without that.

"Be careful, Y/N/N." He warns as he pulls away. "Stay safe."

"Yes sir, mister president." You grin, kissing him again quickly before walking away. You turn as you walk backward to face him, giving him a salute.

Coryo smiles to himself smugly, nodding at you before rushing to rejoin the other peacekeepers in his squad as they drag Spruce back toward the compound.

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[hippolotamus]

Fuck it Friday 🐝

tagged by the oh so lovely and talented @eddiebabygirldiaz my love @bidisasterevankinard @tizniz @actuallyitsellie (tagging y’all back for Saturday) check their cool snippets and fanart if you have not 🫶

Combining some asks for this lovely FiF.

Have some flaring Buckley tempers, protective!Buck and badass Maddie 💞

“Evan, you and I both know there isn’t anywhere far enough that he couldn’t find me. I will spend my life looking over my shoulder, constantly wondering when – not if – he’ll appear and ruin everything.” 

“I could protect you.”

“I know you would. And I also know you would die trying. Which is exactly why I can’t risk it. At least here I already know what to expect.”

Another plea dies on his tongue, caught behind his teeth where he swallows it back down. He gathers his sister in a fierce hug and promises himself he’ll find a way out for her. Promises that if he ever gets a second chance to save her, he won’t waste it.

“I’ll go,” Evan blurts out. 

The drawing room goes quiet as three pairs of eyes settle on him, a blend of incredulity and curiosity.

“I beg your pardon?” His father, Phillip, asks as if Evan’s said something absurd. 

“Send me,” he says, gesturing towards Maddie. “I should be the one to go with her.”

“Evan,” Phillip scoffs. He turns his attention to his cufflinks as though they might have something to contribute. “Don’t be ridiculous. Any of our representatives in Mayfair are per-”

“Perfectly capable? Of what?” Evan pushes himself up from his chair, his nostrils flaring with anger. “Protecting her? Knowing what’s best? How? They don’t even know her!”

His mother, Margaret, remains silent except for aggressively stirring her tea. 

“Lord Page and Lord Matthews have been friends of the family for far longer than you or Maddie have been alive. They both have extensive knowledge of the eligible gentleman, their families, titles. I’ve already sent details so they can begin narrowing the prospects to someone willing to marry-” Phillip briefly flicks his gaze to Maddie. “Willing to take a bride in such unique circumstances.” 

“A widow?” Maddie challenges. “I wasn’t aware that was such a rare situation.”

“I would hardly call the mysterious events surrounding your husband’s death ‘common’,” Margaret retorts. 

“See? This is exactly what I mean! Last time, you allowed Maddie �� your daughter – to be given away to anyone with the best credentials. And then turned a blind eye when she wound up with- with that absolute monster.”

“Evan!” His parents shout in unison, and if looks could kill he’d be dead a thousand times over.

Maddie steps closer, resting her hand on his forearm as a reassurance. “Evan.” A soft antidote to the poisonous way his name was spat out only moments before. “It’s okay.”

He turns to face his sister, ignoring that they aren’t alone. He can feel his voice breaking before he manages any words. “Maddie. How can you say that? It’s not. Not after-” 

He swipes away the tears threatening to fall, unable to voice what he wants to but knowing she understands him just the same. In a single fluid movement, her hands come together around one of his and she locks their pinkies together. 

“It’s okay, Evan,” she murmurs.

He doesn’t believe that, but he does believe her. He trusts that Maddie knows what she’s doing. 

“Okay.” He nods, lightly tugging their interconnected fingers before letting go. He nervously and proudly watches her face their parents, standing taller. Regal almost. He takes half a step back, enough to create a pocket of space, but still close enough to remind her he’s not going anywhere.

In contrast, she takes a step forward. “Considering it’s my future being hotly debated, I find it rather odd that I haven’t been asked what I want. That my own parents don’t seem concerned regarding if or how I would like to proceed.” 

“If?” Margaret regards Maddie with a puzzled look. “You announced your intention to find a husband and remarry. We only want the best for you.” 

“I did announce that as my intention. At no point, however, did I seek help in that endeavor or hint that I might require it. So,” Maddie adds sharply before their parents can interrupt, “given that I have, in fact, been placed upon the marriage mart before, I feel I have more than enough sense to know what to look out for. Is that clear?”

Evan internally rejoices and cheers. Not just for his sister’s speech but for their parents’ matching dumbfounded expressions. Phillip quickly schools his into something more disinterested and, oh, how Evan wishes he had the ability to capture what it was before. Regardless, they have no power over her in this. She’s not a young maiden beholden to a dowry and perceived status. She’s a grown woman who survived the horrors of an arrangement she had no choice in. 

“Just one more thing,” Maddie says. There’s a lightness in her voice that tells him to pay attention and be ready. “A second opinion and the presence of a trusted male companion never hurts. I wish Evan to accompany me.” She pauses to address him directly. “If, of course, that’s something you want.”

“I- yes. Maddie-”

He’s cut off by Phillip loudly clearing his throat. “You’ve both made your point. I’ll arrange a carriage. Be ready to leave by the end of the week if you want to arrive before all that remains are undesirables and outcasts.”

np tagging (for today or Saturday) @stereopticons @epicbuddieficrecs @loveyouanyway @a-noble-dragon @mountedeverest

@diazheartsbuckley @weewootruck @saybiwithme @shipperqueen6 @ramonaflow

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@daffi-990 @diazsdimples @your-catfish-friend @thekristen999 @filet-o-feelings

@wikiangela @underwaterninja13 @lizzie-bennetdarcy @rainbow-nerdss @steadfastsaturnsrings

@inell @jesuisici33 @rmd-writes @shortsighted-owl @queerbuckleys

@bi-buckrights @elvensorceress @bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck

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@slightlyobsessedwitheverything @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @welcometololaland

@wildlife4life and anyone else who wants to 😘

[cher-horowitz]

hello i’ve just discovered your blog after being a huuuuge fan of you on ao3! my question is, i’m assuming you suffered through the tvc books with some tvc characters being present in some of your fics; would you recommend finishing the series as someone who has only read up to memnoch? in particular the prince lestat books?

first of all, thank you for reading my fics!!

and LMAO oh boy. yes i've read them all. it was a challenge i gave myself and i don't regret it, but... it was not always easy.

usually in my fics when i need a name i just will randomly pull one from a tvc character. i do not have positive feelings for most of these characters save for jesse reeves who is my girl (and i hope that if she's in the talamasca show, they do do her justice). and though i hated her book, i thought merrick mayfair had a lot of unused potential.

i'm gonna try to tread lightly here because i know people have very STRONG opinions about these books. you've already read the only books i would ever willingly reread and actually really enjoyed (iwtv, tvl, and qotd).

now let's discuss the rest past memnoch 🤣

if you are an armand fan, i would rec the vampire armand, but BEWARE. this book is trigger warning after trigger warning. i know that sounds kinda stupid considering the others are not really fluffy romcoms, but still. it's beautifully written but it's dark as hell. marius is a key character here, of course. and while there are A LOT of people in the fandom who love marius, i am not one of them! i don't care if this makes me someone who "doesn't understand gothic literature," but i would gladly beat that man up with a hammer. not only that, he's boring as hell imo. i powered through this one for armand and only armand.

again, i think merrick, the book and the character, HAD potential. but it is essentially just 300 pages of david talbot lusting over merrick with about 10 mins of plot at the end. after i'm done beating marius up, david is next! there are like 2 incredible pages of loustat content in that book (somewhat relating back to 2x05) but i'm sure you can find that online.

i think, unless you really want to get into marius' backstory, or a one-off about a guy who has sex with ghosts, or a sad attempt to do a lestat/mayfair crossover, i would skip blood and gold, blackwood farm, and blood canticle. i kind of thought people were exaggerating when they said they were terrible, but... yeah, i hated these books. the writing remains good, but the plots are just so dispensable i cannot rec. i had to use the audiobooks while reading along to these because my mind wandered too much.

the last 3 books (prince lestat, realms of atlantis, and blood communion) really are dealer's choice LOL. i know that's probably not the answer you want, but while i don't love those books i also don't find them offensive. they go off the deep end, but you just sort of laugh at it. or, at least, i laughed at it. fair warning, there ARE aliens. there are some great loustat moments throughout. and it's like modern loustat, so i think that's why i have a BIT of a soft spot for them. plus lestat with an iphone, dr. fareed bhansali inventing vampire clone children... like... it's campy. but there's not MUCH plot. they're sort of just chilling and then a couple dramatic things happen and are sorted out rather swiftly.

sorry this was long! but i hope that helps a little. 🩷

also may i suggest the vampire chronicles tag (below) on my blog? if you want to see how batshit these books really get lmao.

[songsofadelaide]

Meet me in the Afterglow

Five lifetimes where you and Aki Hayakawa almost kissed and one where you did.

[A Hayakawa Aki x Reader one-shot]

tags/cw: csm manga spoilers, 5+1 things, canon-compliant events, soulmates, family death, suicide ideation, major character death, alternate universes - bridgerton, the godfather, greek mythos, no use of yn wc: 4.8k

"before all this and everything else, before the apocalypse, I do so sincerely wish, though my words may not fit, to rest my head in your hair and kiss your lips." — Kiss, Indran Amirthanayagam

— Some lunatic. (1997)

No one in their right mind would pursue Devil Hunting as a serious career. Those entering the Public Safety Organization as Devil Hunters were either forced into it by their circumstances, seeking the thrill of the chase or just straight up mental— Just like you, some lunatic with a death wish you might just get sooner or later. 

When Captain Kishibe told you he received direct orders from Miss Makima for your transfer to the reinforced Tokyo Special Division 4, the ordeal set your heart racing. When death first came for your family in the form of an attack by the Gun Devil, you soon expected to follow them out of sheer delusion and desperation.

The whole locking yourself in a spare coffin thing didn't work since you were eventually pried out of it by the Devil Hunters. People who encountered devil attacks and lived to see the day were a special kind, and some of them were disillusioned enough by the loss in their lives that they decided to heed the call of madness, heroic sentiment blocking any hope of common sense prevailing. 

Public Safety preyed on that madness. You let them. 

Here we are, another step closer. 

"Gh! Watch it, Otome-san!" 

Unfortunately, every step towards death had been thwarted by your senior colleague, Hayakawa Aki. Every mission you declared would be your last always concluded with you being saved by the man. 

"Hayakawa-senpai! Y-Yoummfff—"

This one was no different. 

Separated from the rest of the squad with no means to protect yourselves other than watching each other's backs, you figured now would have been the most perfect time to die. The devil you formed a contract with would revel in your death and perhaps make its home in your body, too. Then you'd be just like Power. Or Denji. Or just dead like you intended. 

But how could you? Aki's hand was over your mouth and his figure was pressed against your own as you attempted to conceal your presence from a devil of still-unknown abilities.  

Was it just you or the corridor you both slipped into was getting narrower and narrower? The taller man now had his knee between your legs, bracing himself on the wall that was seemingly collapsing in on you both. Your faces were only seconds apart from colliding. 

Aki released his grip from your mouth, his palms moist with bits of your dribble. 

"S-Senpai, this is obviously the work of a devil," you started. Space Devil, you thought to yourself. "Unlike you, I have no means to protect myself. I'm only going to drag you down. You should just leave me… I'll—"

A sharp tsk left Aki's lips. He now held you by the chin, blue eyes unclouded as he reasoned out with you. Surely he would have noticed by now that you were looking for a place to die, that you were looking to die, and you wanted every mission you undertook with him to be your last, but how could he bring himself to just leave you behind?

Not after having shared after-mission meals with you. Not after having spent afternoons basking in the sun and cigarette smoke and silly little hopes that both of you will live to see the end of the year and celebrate a new one. This here was a man who had lost nearly everything he held dear in his life. He wasn't losing anyone again, not if he can do anything about it.

He spoke the words as though breathing life back into your lungs with how close you now stood. "No, you damn lunatic. What makes you think I'm leaving without you?" 

— Unbecoming of a Lord (Mayfair, London, 1813)

When your "papá" Kishibe told you he would let you off the hook for good if you were to attend even one ball for this season, you considered yourself sold to the idea of freedom. Evening balls and promenades weren't really your thing, but as a daughter of the esteemed Captain Kishibe, you were expected to leave your mark on high society and maybe earn a suitor or two. 

You expected your "little sister" Power to enjoy such occasions, and even "younger brother" Denji, who despised dressing up because everything itched, still adhered to Kishibe's rule of presenting oneself to the high society at least once in their life. Tonight would be the first and last time you do so. If you had to put on your dress and stand in the corner all night for only the gods know how long, you didn't mind at all— so long as you never had to attend a single ball afterwards.

So the invitation to dance surely caught you off-guard, but maybe you should have expected it since you were one daughter of a Captain who also happened to be a popular relationship broker. 

"May I have this dance?" Asked the taller man, his long dark hair neatly kept in a blue silk ribbon. As you searched for your father from across the room, you caught him nodding back at you, voicing his quiet approval as he took a sip of this evening's wine in his hand. The customary curtsy was granted to the man as you gave him your hand, which he brought to his lips reverently. 

You were certain the whole ton had their eyes on you as you took the centre of the ballroom with one of your father's favoured subordinates, the young Lord Aki Hayakawa. He was a cool and aloof man, yet cutthroat in missions, as your "papá" mentioned before, but the pressures of high society had yet to leave traces on his finely chiselled face.

Aki has yet to speak a single word to you after asking for your hand to dance. His hand was warm even over the silk of your gloves, further proof that he was a living, breathing being and not some phantom that people made him out to be. The sound of the piano filled your ears as you were tenderly swept alongside his pace, your fingers gently clutching the shoulder of his cobalt blue coat. 

"Diamond," he finally spoke, his voice deep and intimate. You could almost hear a laugh, too. "That is what they call the loveliest girl here, right?" 

You paced yourself, counting in your head and mirroring his footwork so as to not miss a beat. 

"I'm afraid to disappoint you, my lord, but I'm no diamond. I'm merely a girl," you gently shook your head. "The Queen must have named her diamond already."

It was Lady Makima, surely.  

"Y…" You murmured, lips quivering as he drew you closer to his person. The way his breath ghosted over your lips was maddening. "You do know the way you hold me is unbecoming of a lord…"

The tender sound of the music filled your ears along with the rush of blood as you felt the pads of his warm fingers rest on your bare shoulder blade.

"My apologies if I offended your sensibilities. I am simply so enamoured by you now that I've met you," he chuckled. "Captain Kishibe said you despised these balls even though this is your first one." 

"He… Papá is right about that," you fumbled for words even further. "Everything is just so… exhausting, to say the least."

"I can do you a favour if you would like. A way for you to no longer have to attend these gatherings," he replied, a glint of mischief playing in his piercing blue eyes that you suddenly couldn't look away from. "Receive me as a suitor."

What?

"S-Surely, you jest!" You unexpectedly laughed at his remark before eventually pursing your lips in embarrassment. "My apologies, my lord, I… I suppose you can visit me at our home. Papá and I would be happy to receive you." 

"You would be doing me a tremendous favour as well, my lady," he said, a wave of relief washing over his face. "I, too, no longer wish to attend any of these… social gatherings in the near future." 

"My apologies. I would just… like to know why someone with a face like yours no longer wishes to take part in any more of the Queen's balls." 

"What is it about my face that you find so intriguing?"

"Because you are absolutely attractive," you replied.

"As are you," he said right back at you. "Now, unless you accept the assistance of a fellow homebody, I'm positively certain more dances will be asked of you once I let you go." 

He was right about that, for not only women waiting for their turn with him, but men were gathering around you, too, just waiting for the opportunity to swipe you from the handsome young soldier's arms.

"I am glad to be of help then, my fellow homebody," you started, another small laugh cracked through your smile. "I am looking forward to making your acquaintance."

— You’d Be So Nice to Come Home To (New York, 1955)

In the war of the five families, little songbirds like you should have been happy in their gilded cages. This was a men's game, after all, and if someone like Sonny Corleone perished at the hands of his enemies, what more pretty women like you? Only collateral damage.  

The eldest son of Don Vito was known for his impulsiveness, and he was surely warned that his hot-bloodedness would be the death of him one day. With the kingpin shot off the board, the tides of war shifted, and even the bedridden Corleone patriarch rose from his rest to call for an end to the ceaseless fighting disturbing the already fragile peace sustained only by a fraying thread in the underground.  

With the death of Don Vito and the accession of his youngest son as the new Don of the Corleone Family, the tides of the underground have shifted once more, and you were determined to survive with all the fight you had in you. 

Old man Tessio made sure you and the girls were all fed and educated in the ways of how his club was run, but they disappeared into Barzini hands one by one until only a handful of you were left. The Two Toms has been your home all your life, but now that it was unsafe, you had to find a way to get to the Corleone home base with this vital piece of information that unknowingly fell into your hands. 

The Corleones were quiet men, but they took care of their assets. 

When the opportunity to leave with a client presented itself, you acted as though it was just another evening out with a rich daddy who wanted some company. It didn't take long for the night stroll to go awry after the gentleman you left with was knocked unconscious as soon as you stepped outside the social club. 

It wasn't a killing blow, but the faint scent of clean metal rose to your nose and it set the warning signals in your head alight. It was the stench of blood, something you were entirely familiar with given the connections looped around your pretty pinky finger. 

You were quick enough to evade the pair of men in similar black coats, slinking into a dim alley before pulling in the first person to meet your gaze— a fine specimen with piercing blue eyes and dark hair that fell to his shoulders. It was another one of them suits, but now wasn't the time to be picky. He'll do.  

You sighed and looked up at the tall stranger you dragged along with you, your cheeks heating up at the sight of his broad chest from his open cloak. 

Now's not the time to get cold feet, you told yourself. 

"Care to help a stranger?" You smiled at the dark-eyed man, who could only quirk an eyebrow at your inquiry. He found you reaching for his hands, gently placing one on your waist and another on your hot cheek. 

"Wh-What are you—" His words were cut off when you raised a soft hand to his face and closed the distance between the two of you, pulling him down by his collar to a kiss.  

…Except it wasn't a kiss, but more of a cry for assistance. You stood there cheek to cheek and found this man's warmth a surprisingly pleasant feeling. You felt this strong stranger lightly grip your waist and cheek as you collided, as if reciprocating your sudden display of bold affection. Neither of you was bothered when you heard the footsteps behind you, but it felt like your heart was about to climb out of your throat and make its own escape. "Hey, you!—" 

The exclamation didn't even distract the pair. You coiled your arms around the handsome stranger's neck with a sultry little flourish, your scarlet fingernails gently digging into this man's coat. The softest of moans left your lips in another bid to throw off the men on your trail. 

The soldato behind them was quick to turn his heel. "Nothin' to see here! Just some…"

As the gruff voices and the footsteps receded, you heard nothing else but the sound of your own pulse, the blood rushing in your ears as you evaded what was possibly an attempt on your life. 

"I'm so sorry," you murmured, breath warm against the stranger's chest. He took a step back and allowed you your space, fishing out his favourite pack of cigars from his coat pocket. 

"'S'all right, sweet thing. Must have been in a real pinch if you were willing to drag a bystander in your business," he stated, exhaling a cloud of thick white smoke. "Old man Pete said songbirds like you would sing to save herself, but it turns out you can be a hawk if you want."

Pete? "D-Do you know Signore Clemenza? I…" 

"The name's Aki. I'm one of Clemenza's men," he offered his hand to you. "And don't worry. He already knows. Just needed another songbird as proof."

You took his hand and used it to anchor your shaking legs. He squeezed you strong enough for you to snap out of your fight-or-flight trance. 

"Relax, pretty bird. You're safe," said Aki as he pulled you close to his person. It was only then you saw the little twinkle of sapphires on his ears. The sapphires that were his eyes. "We'll take care of you."

— Katabasis (Greek Mythos)

Pomegranates were the only fruit that was hardy enough to survive in the Underworld. 

There was a certain beauty to the crimson fruit that reminded you of home, and all of the lush produce grown in the mortal realm— the verdant trees, overgrown leaves a thick canopy overhead, fragrant blossoms of every colour, and the sweetness of every other fruit that have touched your lips. 

It's sweet, you thought to yourself as you pocketed something into your rose-coloured robes, concealing it from the prying eyes of the shades in the house. 

The House of Hades, cradled deep within Tartarus, was not as cold as the hymns and stories said it would be. Olympus was plenty warm, made even more so with your mother's unrelenting and watchful gaze on you. You were both goddesses revered for bringing forth the mortal realm's abundant harvests, and the gods be damned if you chose a path different from hers. 

For all of its cosiness and colour, Olympus was chaotic, and you didn't mind being spared from its chaos— and your mother's overbearing nature— by accepting an illicit deal with Hera herself. She sympathised with you, after all, and if the Fates wove anything different for her, she would have chosen the more quiet life. 

Little did you know that the deal involved being the Queen of the Underworld.  

And for all his supposed strictness and severity, the raven-haired and blue-eyed Hades was a good ruler— even more a good husband— and he was exceptionally kind to you. He remained aloof as he was when you first met in Olympus many moons ago, but you were certain he was only giving you all the space you needed to grow into your role as the queen of this realm. 

He often bickered with Thanatos, who reaped souls with chainsaws and a surprising lack of empathy. The death god's penchant for following the trail of war troubled Hades, but the harbinger was only doing his job.  

Hecate wasn't easy to deal with, either, as she would rather dwell in her blood magick and witchcraft than assist in managing the Underworld and all of its shades and denizens. Hades likened them to his many pet canines, not counting Cerberus. 

But they adored you, their queen. Thanatos was amiable as Hecate was genial, and they orbited you as celestial bodies would surround a planet, always in a constant state of wondrous awe every time you called forth a plant to spring to life in the Underworld, only for it to wither after a few moments. 

Upon your arrival in the Underworld, Hades gifted you the garden within the palace walls. He was rather embarrassed by its barrenness, but plants from the mortal realm hardly grew there, except for the pomegranate tree that had yet to bear fruit.

And after many moons of waiting, it fell,��ripe and right into your hands.  

Hades was simply pleased seeing you walking around the estate. He derived no pleasure from possibly scaring you with his presence, but when he saw you pick the fruit open, he knew his intervention was needed. 

"Oh!" Came your startled expression as the taller figure seized your hand. "I-Is something the matter, my lord husband?" 

His blue eyes scanned your face for a sign, any sign or hint of regret following your consumption of the sweet and tart seeds. "You ate it."

"I did," you replied with a nod. He released you from his tender grip, his large hand moving to gently cup your cheek. Your lips were still moist and balmy with traces of the fruit. Hades pressed himself to exercise control.  

"Beautiful goddess, you do know this will tie you to me eternally," he said with the utmost tenderness, his words not at all coming out as easily as he thought. "Did… Did anyone make you—"

You knew that much, of course, as even Hera warned you of eternal captivity should you consume anything from the Underworld. 

Aloof as he was, his eyes remained as kind as they were when you first met, his obvious adoration of you not at all lifting or changing even as you descended from the mortal realm to make this place your home. And why wouldn't you make this place your home? Why wouldn't you want to tie yourself to this place, to him, who respected you and your space even though you want him to just crash into you? 

"What? Surely you jest," you smiled at him as you contentedly sank into his touch, opening your palm to offer him more of the already sticky pomegranate seeds. "I ate the fruit myself."

— Meet Me (1997)

Surviving the mass attack led by Santa Claus was the last straw for Kobeni. 

In the aftermath of the onslaught, only a handful of the reinforced Special Division 4 remained alive, and with Kobeni's resignation came the final number of five: Aki, Denji, Power, Angel, and you. Captain Kishibe didn't count. You've seen the man fight and the slaughter didn't even faze him one bit. Only the gods know how long that man has lived. And he'll probably outlive us all, too. 

When the captain presented you with the opportunity to leave the public sector and go private, you were on the fence, which was surprising since you joined the sector to follow your family in death. 

"You… aren't looking to die like you were before, the first time we met. I can only assume you found something worth living for," he told you. "Aki and the others are on a break as well. Why not pay them a visit while you're thinking about things?" 

And so you did. Despite missing an arm, Aki still managed to keep their place immaculately tidy. You could only assume that Denji and Power pitched in every now and then given their caretaker's circumstances. 

"Oh, Aki-san!" You exclaimed as the door to the apartment unit opened. Your superior in his habitat had always been a sight to behold for you. You bought snacks and cans of random chilled drinks as a courtesy. "I just met with Captain Kishibe and Kobeni-chan earlier. Ah, but where are Denji-kun and Power-chan?"

"I asked them to buy us some ingredients for dinner as a breather of sorts," Aki stated as he led you to their shared living room. You trailed his steps and made yourself comfortable as you laid out the various knickknacks you brought with you. "How is Kobeni doing?"

"She's doing well, actually," you managed a smile. "She's been persuading me to resign from devil hunting, too, always saying she'll help me find a regular job if I'm in dire need of it."

You opened a can of black coffee for Aki. "Denji-kun and Power-chan like cola, don't they? I can put this in your fridge in the meantime."

"Thanks."

"Ooh," your eyes lit up as you opened the fridge. The young man couldn't help but chuckle in his seat. "Aki-san, are you perhaps about to make tonkatsu?"

"Yeah. You should stay for dinner while you're here," he replied as you sat down next to him once more. "I can't promise you a peaceful meal, though." 

"If we're talking about vegetables, know that I'm happy to take them off their plates," you grinned at him. The way he smiled back at you filled your chest with the warmth you could only hope he felt as well. "Aki-san, I don't… think about dying as much anymore. I suppose I have you to thank for that." 

"I'm glad to hear that."

"You…" you stammered before gathering your bearings and eventually facing him head-on. "Aki-san, I think you—"

"No," he cut you off, slowly shaking his head, the tension between you all the more palpable now that he's rested his forehead on your shoulder. With his hair undone, he smelt even more of cigarettes and strong black coffee, more redolent and intoxicating than the finest cup of espresso you could afford. "There's no leaving this profession for me. Not now." 

Who am I kidding? You thought to yourself. Himeno-senpai couldn't… Whatever made me think that I could?

He raised his remaining hand to touch your face, his palm warm against your cheek. Or was it you who was warm? When he leaned down to wipe away the tear in the corner of your eye, it was only then you noticed that you were crying all along.

"Otome," he stated, voice low and gentle, soft and pleading. No. Any more would hurt. Any more would— "Outlive me and live the most beautiful life you can."

"I can do that now with whatever remaining time you have left, Aki-san," you spoke in tears, trying to hold back your sobs. You cried into the crook of his neck. "Let me take care of you!"

"Just knowing you want to keep on living makes me incredibly happy, Otome," Aki stated with a smile you couldn't see. He tried to soothe your sadness by running his hand over your head. Warm. "Stay for dinner, all right? Come as often as you can. Denji and Power will appreciate having you around, too. I'll bring you something when I get back from Hokkaido, so cheer up." 

You nodded, or at least attempted to, as he gave you gentle pats on your back. Even though he was an image of coolness and calmness, Aki held so much warmth in his heart that it overflowed, saving you from the path of destruction you set on. 

"Aki-san," you murmured against his broad shoulder. Aki-san, I wish I could have saved you, too. "I'd love some miso soup, too." 

You felt his laugh reverberate in his chest. Warm, as though the overflow was trying to make itself known. "I'll prepare some later."

Aki never returned after he last met up with Makima. In the end, it was Denji who handed over the souvenir from Hokkaido that he brought home for you— a pair of carved wooden bears eating corn and salmon, living their most beautiful lives yet.

— +1, In The Afterglow (To the world where you are, 2023) 

Only a small crack of sunlight managed to break through your curtains. The glass sliding door was slightly left open, allowing a gentle morning breeze to slip into your bedroom. 

A groan escaped your lips as you reached for the other side of your bed and found it cold and empty. Why, oh, why did Aki have to be such a morning person?

It couldn't be helped. Even when you were younger, the Hayakawa family next door were known in the area as early risers. When you first moved into the neighbourhood when you were nine, the Hayakawas were the first ones to bring your family a housewarming gift. 

But you liked Aki even more than the present his parents brought. That blue-eyed boy with the most precious smile. You liked him the moment you laid eyes on him.  

And you still like him as much 20 years later. Middle school, high school, university and work never changed how you felt for Hayakawa Aki. Your mutual friends marvelled at your long-standing relationship, some of them joking that the young man was only tolerating you.

—"Ne, Aki-kun! Otome-chan must be a menace when it's just the two of you, huh? Don't you ever think of meeting other people?"—

And Taiyo nearly lost it when you almost broke up with his big brother, too. 

—"Don't listen to onii-chan, Otome-nee! He's being an idiot right now!"—

But Aki liked you just as much as you did for as long as you did, too. And the jokes are on the people who tried to make your relationship a laughing matter. 

—"Are you kidding? She may be a menace, but she's my menace. There's no way I'm letting her go."—

And Taiyo still stood as his big brother's best man on your wedding day even though he thought you two would break up a day before.

—"I've always been some kind of an idiot when it comes to you, Otome. Don't give me that look and come here. Yes, that's right. You're my idiot, too."—

"Akiii!" You whined into your pillow. "Why can't you just sleep in with me, even just a little?"

"Because my pretty wife said she liked having breakfast as soon as she wakes up," the brunette cut through your open internal monologue as he made his way back into your shared bedroom. "Good morning."

You raised your arms to a long stretch, hands reaching for your husband as he sat on the edge of your bed. 

"Good morning, sunshine of my life," you beamed at him. The moment you coiled your arms around his neck and drew him close, he moved like clockwork, leaning down to press his lips on yours. 

Warm, like always. He tasted of ash and his favourite black coffee. "Aki…"

You could tell he was holding back from the way his fists slightly shook on his lap. "All right, that's—"

"Nooo! Don't go yet," you sadly whimpered as he broke away from your hold. Your puppy eyes still worked wonders on him even after all these years. "I just feel like kissing you today. There's a part of me saying I've missed out on doing that a lot." 

"What are you saying, you odd bird?" He chuckled, placing a large hand on your head. You gently curled his dark hair around your fingers, the silkiness of his mane refusing to follow your hold.

"What time will Denji and the others be arriving today?" 

"Later in the afternoon."

"Then I have all morning to kiss you!" 

"You have all the time in the world to kiss me," Aki stated with the same small smile you first fell in love with, a smile you felt like you've always been in love with, with lips you always felt like kissing, as though lifetimes have been stolen from you both. He leaned down to kiss you once more, softly, slowly, tenderly, kindly, taking all the time he wanted. "All the time in the world."

Author's notes: Hello! Before everything else, I just wanted to say thank you for picking up this fic. This fic remains one of my favourite works from this year. It was originally posted on AO3 in January and I am hoping it will receive just as much love here. ♡ — I use "Otome" as a placeholder for "Y/N" because I thought it looked much nicer in the stories I write. The term "Otome" is from otome games, or maiden games, and in this piece Otome would literally mean maiden, or Maiden-chan, which pretty much means Y/N. — Some lunatic takes place somewhere between Ep 12 and the following arc, Bomb Girl. Aki's resolution to not lose anyone any further was driven by his grief over Himeno's death. Y/N has worked with Captain Kishibe for as long as they can remember. — Unbecoming of a Lord alludes to Daphne and Simon's secret agreement in the first season of Bridgerton. (As a royalty buff, I highly recommend the show.) — You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To takes place shortly before the infamous Baptism of Fire scene from the first Godfather film. Aki was a replacement for the traitor Paulie. Soldato means soldier, but it also means a lower-level mafia member who hasn't made an impact in the family yet. — Katabasis (which roughly means descent to the Underworld) is probably one of my most favourite parts of the fic. It takes some elements from the Hades video game (The House of Hades, pomegranates as the only fruit able to grow in the Underworld, Persephone's annoyance at Olympus and its chaos and her deal with Zeus, but here, it's with Hera), and Lore Olympus (Persephone willingly coming to the Underworld and taking the fruit herself). — Meet Me takes place during the start of the Gun Devil arc. Aki's gift for y/n was kibori kuma, or kuma bori. Apparently, Hokkaido is known for its wooden bear carvings and I thought a pair of happy bears was both an appropriate and heartbreaking gift to receive lol. Pardon me while I continue hurting myself with such facts. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am already looking forward to CSM S2, even though we all know there's only heartache waiting for us lol. ~ SongsOfAdelaide ♡

✦ Original Tumblr post ✦ AO3 link ✦

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

oh, I am so late to replying bc this got hidden in my drafts (i save so many drafts. and then forget about them.)

but thanks for the tag @graygiantess 💜

1. Last song: Swallow by Emilie Autumn

2. Currently watching: Critical Role, trying to catch up on the last two episodes of campaign 3

3. Three ships: Armand/Daniel (iwtv/vc), Kimberly/Tommy (from the power rangers, it was my first real ship as a kid, so it gets a mention) and Buffy/Spike/Angel (let my girl have both, let Angel/Spike work out some of that aggression and see how much they care, even if they don't want to admit it. In the words of many a fandom: threesome fixes everything)

4. Favorite color: turquoise, teal, and that lighter shade of green from the aromantic flag

5. Currently consuming: coffee, bc my appetite still hasn't returned from the war (aka the horrors)

6. Relationship status: happily single by choice (which still baffles so many people i know irl)

7. Last movie: The Little Mermaid, the live action one. (I still don't like Eric's song. It didn't have that disney movie vibe) (Also before y'all come at me, I was watching at my doctor's during tms sessions, on her disney+ plus account. I'm currently not spending money on disney, for their various evil acts)

8. Currently working on: rn at this current moment my newest Armand/Daniel fic like shipwrecks on the sea bed. And also just this silly iwtv one shot where Mona Mayfair turns Lestat to a human woman, to teach him some sort of lesson. or maybe just because he pissed her off. (don't ask how it works, it's a mixture of Fareed's science and Mona's magic. And in true anne rice fashion, it is never explained in any depth. it is however only temporary)

tagging: anyone who wants to do this. idk if it's still going around or not, and who has or hasn't done it. so if you wanna jump in, consider yourself tagged

thanks for the tag @julyzaa!

Last Song: Hold My Hand by Hottie and the Blowfish

Currently Watching: Magnificent Century (Suleyman Arc), GoT Season 2, and The Last Promise (Fantasy C-Drama on Netflix)

Three Ships: oooooh! Jon x Sansa, Jace x Helaena, Fjord x Jester

Favorite Color: Blue, Purple, Pink

Currently Consuming: Cool Blue Gatorade and a quest chocolate bar

Relationship Status: Single and Loving It

Last Movie: Sleeping Beauty (Animated)

Currently Working On: Chapter 15 for Maiden

no pressure tags: @acrossthesestars, @corporalicent, @mihrsuri, @theladyelizabeth, @selfproclaimedunicorn, @murmel-malt, @mimikoflamemaker, @stannisfactions, and anyone else who would like to! (and just say I tagged you!)

[billsfangearring]

11 Good Omens Fic Favorites

a.k.a. I was going to choose my personal top ten but was too indecisive

One of my fandom resolutions for 2023 is to get back into reccing, so here’s a very casual GO rec list to kick things off! Fics are ordered longest to shortest.

As with any rec list, please read the warnings and tags on ao3 and make whatever decisions are best for you. I hope you enjoy!

the bucket list by darcylindbergh (@forineffablereasons)

There was a certain look that Aziraphale wore occasionally—a pinched sort of moue that looked like he’d just taken a very large mouthful of cinnamon—which meant he thought Crowley was being ridiculous. He had put it on. “Hang on,” he had said. “You want us to do human things?” * If you're going to go native, you might as well go all the way.

absolutely stunning, I wanted to take breaks while reading to really let it all sink in, I felt ALL THE EMOTIONS (44k, incomplete, E)

Your Mirror by equestrianstatue (@justlikeeddie)

I'll be your mirror; reflect what you are, in case you don't know. Crowley drummed his fingers briefly against his mug, and then sat back a little in his chair. He gave Aziraphale a long, appraising glance, and then seemed to come to some decision. “Listen, angel,” he said, “let me pitch you something.” Lulled by the familiar patter of Crowley’s voice as he was, Aziraphale still recognised this to be vaguely dangerous territory. He swallowed. “Go on,” he said.

one of the best-executed non-linear narrative fics I've ever read—just masterful, really peels back the layers in their relationship (28k, E)

This Soul Outstreaming by Rend_Herring

“Why did you come here?” Aziraphale interrupts. “Why do you keep doing this?” All the saving, he means, all the chasing after Aziraphale he does. It can’t only be that he’s not keen to endure a replacement. That can’t be it, not anymore. He’s going to get himself in trouble, and then it’ll be Aziraphale’s fault. Crowley’s mouth shuts with a click. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, reaches for the handle of the fork and taps his fingertips against it before setting his hands in his lap. When he speaks, it’s very soft. “Don’t you know?” he asks. Aziraphale, unnaccustomed to his heart refusing to translate why it throbs with such haste, shakes his head.

sad, tender, funny, and romantic with beautiful prose, really just everything you want, so many quotable lines (22k, E)

Lay me down in Eden by caricari (@heycaricari)

Two supernatural entities go for a walk and Crowley gets more than he bargained for.

SO ROMANTIC OH MY GOD in the dialogue, interior monologue, and actions, excellent characterization, so pure (then explicit lol) (17k, E)

You've Got Kudos by curtaincall (@fremulon)

Aziraphale and Crowley both write fanfiction. As it happens, they both write Good Omens fanfiction. Of course, neither of them would ever admit this to the other. (A love story told primarily in AO3 comments)

this is the most meta thing ever lmao, really impressive skins for the ao3 look—pay attention to all the little details like usernames, etc. (4k, M)

build me a city, call it jerusalem by gyzym (@gyzym)

Man begets man begets The Tales of Men, and there's nothing godly in that; Those Above and Them Below haven't any need for the stories humans have been hungry for since the snake and the Angel with the flaming sword.

pre-show fic written in 2012, leans heavily into religious themes and Biblical references, melancholic, spare but beautiful writing style (3k, T)

The Gift by entanglednow (@entanglednow)

In which there is a little wooden elephant, and a long overdue confession.

simple yet checks all the boxes, very very soft and sweet, the DEVOTION, more biblical settings, truly just lovely (3k, T)

Anthony J. Crowley, Retired Demon and Airbnb Superhost by TheOldAquarian (@darkpurpledawn)

What are you supposed to do when you've been fired from your sweet job in Hell for thwarting the schemes of Satan, you've got a swanky flat in Mayfair, and you're looking for an excuse to spend all your time in someone else's bookshop? Obviously, you turn to the dubious world of short-term vacation rentals. The resulting Airbnb property has been variously described as "an instagram trap," "a vampire den but make it botanical," and "the weirdest bed and breakfast in the shared history of beds and breakfasting."

a highly entertaining series of Airbnb reviews of Crowley’s flat—every single one kills me, as do our ineffable duo’s cameos (3k, G)

Kissing, Accidentally. by skybound2 (@skybound2)

Crowley doesn’t mean to kiss him, really. It just sort of…happens. An…automatic response, if you will. An unintended automatic response. Unexpected, even. It’s not planned, that’s what he’s trying to say. ~~~ Or the one where Crowley gives in and kisses Aziraphale while he has him pinned against a wall.

winner of best use of footnotes, hilarious, Crowley is WHIPPED and an absolute disaster of a demon, just delightful (2k, G)

Too Generous by rfsmiley (@redfacesmiley)

“You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.” Or: what happened after the [ we all got hit by a ] bus scene (aka "you could stay at my place, if you like")….

the TENSION, the PINING, ahh my heart was in my throat, excellent dialogue, and multiple P&P references (1.5k, T)

Interwoven Footsteps by skybound2 (@skybound2)

It takes them a while to get there. Six thousand years, give or take. But they get there.

criminally underappreciated (probably because it's super short), gorgeous, lush, sweet, their whole story in under 1k words (700, T)

[imagines-ahs]

Chapter Twenty-Six: Maroon.

Summary: Wilhemina Venable felt it was finally time to leave Kineros Robotics and get a job with people who weren’t such morons like Jeff and Mutt. What she didn’t expect, however, was for her new boss to be so damn insufferable. She didn’t expect to fall in love with her, either.

Tag List: @mayfair-fleur @mistysswampmud @paulsonsratched @msvenablx @notmeellaannyy @rwoolfe @golddustdykes​ @lovingsarah @slut-for-sarah​(message me to be added if interested!)

Wilhemina smiled a little. She finished her coffee and reached for her cane. “I’ll go back to work.”

“Okay.” Emma leaned closer and pecked her lips.

With butterflies on her stomach, Wilhemina walked back inside the kitchen.

Once she washed her mug clean and set it to dry, Venable walked back to her table and got to work. She only looked up again when she heard shuffling, and people began getting ready to leave. After saving the document she had been working on, Wilhemina leaned back as the computer turned off. She took a deep breath. I’m anxious about dinner. Venable almost wanted to cancel, but as anxious as she was, she was also very excited. She eyed Emma, watching as she, too, turned her computer off and stretched her back. Her perfect, straight back. Her lower lip got caught between her teeth, and Venable’s thoughts wondered to how her life would have been if she had a straight spine; would her parents have left her? Would she feel so disgusting? Would she be— Brown eyes quickly moved up as she heard rushed heels coming from the hall. Billie Dean soon appeared, walking with her head down and eyes on her phone, steps quick and heels clacking loudly. She didn’t look happy, and her makeup was a little smudged. Wilhemina frowned. Was she crying? “Billie Dean,” she called, but Billie didn’t look back. Wether she had heard it or not, Venable didn’t want to wait to find out. As quickly as she could, she followed behind. “Billie Dean,” she called again.

Billie had reached the elevator already, hand holding the door open. She turned back as she heard her name, only to see a concerned Venable rushing behind her. The last person I want to see. The only one she knew would be able to make her smile, too. “Hi—is everything alright?”

“I was about to ask you the same,” Venable’s words were as collected as always, but a few deep breaths slipped in and gave room for anyone to notice she had made swift moves. Now, closer to Billie Dean, she could see her makeup was nowhere near as flawless as it had been during lunch, and her eyes looked way heavier.

Billie gulped. “Everything is alright. I need—I need to go.” She motioned to the open elevator. “I can’t be late for the set.”

Wilhemina squeezed her cane with both hands. She frowned. “You’re not alright…” she said softly and with a delicacy she sometimes wondered if she were even capable of.

Billie Dean bit her inner cheek harshly. She had done enough crying for the day, even if it hadn’t been that much. Tears had slipped down her cheeks while she settled everything she had to settle for the Christmas special, and she had allowed them to do so freely. She couldn’t cry anymore; not now, not there, not in front of Venable. But Wilhemina’s tone shot straight to her heart, to the part where she felt the most vulnerable and alone. Her eyes threatened to overflow again. “I-I’m not having a good day. That is all.”

She’s never like that. Billie Dean had always been sunshine and rainbows; she was always making jokes, smiling and making everyone smile, too. Even back at their trip, when things got rough, Billie hadn’t acted like that. Maybe I am the problem. Wilhemina had no reason to think that way… but she still did. “Will you be alright at the set?”

Billie nodded. And for fuck’s sake, how could Venable keep on hitting all the right spots which made Billie Dean the most vulnerable? How could she so easily make Billie feel so comforted? “I will.” She gulped.

It was hesitant, but Wilhemina nodded back. “Will you text me if anything happens?”

“I will.” Billie Dean repeated, even if she didn’t know if that was true.

“Okay…” With a sad smile and hesitant feet, Venable turned around and walked back to the office.

Billie Dean watched her for a second. Maybe Emma is right… She sighed and got into the elevator, leaning back against the wall as the door closed. She didn’t have time for herself right now.

Back at the office, Wilhemina began to pack her things. Her mind was still at Billie, and she doubted it would go anywhere anytime soon. She was worried; she had seen first hand how Billie Dean was treated in this industry, had seen her literally faint and have people demanding that she kept on working. Billie was not having a good day—for whatever reason she hadn’t shared—and Venable knew going to the set would only make things worse for Billie Dean. Should I cancel dinner? Billie had told her that Jenny was going to be there, and she couldn’t cancel with Emma, now. That wouldn’t be fair. Reaching for her coat, Wilhemina put it on and let out a sigh.

“What happened?” Emma asked as she approached Wilhemina’s table. A few of the employees there waved them goodbye.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve got that dimple between your eyebrows, so it’s not nothing…” Emma offered Venable a small smile.

Brown eyes stared at green ones. Should I? Emma wasn’t a bad person. “I’m just—just worried, about Billie Dean.”

“Why?”

“She’s not been acting like herself today,” Wilhemina murmured.

“Really?” Emma’s eyebrows moved up. A few more people left the office, leaving only the two of them there. “I think she’s been more like herself than ever.”

Venable shook her head. “No… there’s something wrong.” She reached for her purse.

“I didn’t know you two were that close…” Emma crossed her arms, watching Wilhemina.

Are we? Venable supposed so… they did share a few personal things, after all. She decided not to give room for that conversation, though. “She’s going to film tonight, which means she’ll be overworked… people there are not nice to her.” Emma hummed. Why am I even sharing that with her?

“I’m sure she’ll be alright. Billie is used to having the attention on her.” Emma turned around and grabbed her purse and coat as well. “Let me walk you to your car?”

“Sure.” Wilhemina shook her worries away. There was nothing she could do right now, after all. Following Emma to the elevator, they waited side to side for it to arrive. When it did, they both stepped in. As soon as they did, Emma wrapped an arm around Venable’s waist.

“I’m excited about tonight,” Emma’s voice was as soft as honey. Wilhemina was still deciding if she enjoyed the arm around her waist or not, but when she felt a head resting on her shoulder and a kiss being pressed against her cheek, her legs got wobbly. I think I like it. Emma was so sweet with her, so… loving. It was hard not to like it.

“Me too,” Venable allowed herself to confess. Hesitantly, she rested her head on top of Emma’s.

“I like being around you,” Emma murmured, and her mouth was so close to Wilhemina’s ear that it sent shivers down her spine. Emma’s voice sounded so different up close; almost like velvet.

“I like being around you, too.” Venable felt her voice a little thicker. She gulped, remaining as composed as always. Emma smiled and kissed Wilhemina’s cheek again. Slowly, she reached to cup Venable’s face and turn her head ever so gently so she could kiss her lips. Wilhemina allowed it, and her eyes closed as she kissed Emma back. The butterflies fought for freedom inside her stomach once again. Their kiss was interrupted by the door opening, and they both pulled away. Emma reached for Venable’s free hand and guided them into the garage. Billie Dean’s hand fits better.

“I still haven’t memorized which car is yours.” Emma chuckled.

Wilhemina opened a small smile. “It’s the black one to the far right, column B.”

Emma looked that way. “Oh, right.” She pulled them there. Wilhemina let go of Emma’s hand to look for her keys. Once she found them, she opened the driver’s door and set her purse on the seat. Emma smiled at her when she turned back around. “I’ll see you at eight, gorgeous.” She took a step closer. Venable licked her lips with a nod. Gently, Emma rested her hands on Wilhemina’s hips, caressing them. Venable squeezed her cane. “I’ll text you my address.”

“Alright,” Wilhemina nodded. Strawberry invaded her nostrils as she stared at green eyes. “I’ll bring the wine.”

“Perfect.” Emma leaned closer and pecked her lips. Venable took a deep breath. “I hope you’ll like my cooking.” She smiled.

Wilhemina couldn’t help but open a genuine smile back. When did anyone cook for her? “I’m sure I will.”

“Good.” Emma pecked Venable again, this time lingering there for a second. Wilhemina allowed herself to feel the moment, and instinctively her free hand wrapped around Emma’s waist, caressing it. Against their kiss, Emma smiled. “Drive safe, gorgeous.”

“You too,” Venable whispered. She pecked Emma one last time before pulling away and getting into her car. Once she buckled up, she waved softly at Emma, whom waved back before walking towards her own car. Wilhemina took a deep breath and began her way back home. Thoughts and more thoughts about Billie Dean slipped through her mind, mingling and matching with ones about Emma and their dinner. Would Billie remember to have dinner? Would they even give her the time to do so? Venable figured that wasn’t her first rodeo—for sure—and Billie Dean was more than capable of taking care of herself. Shaking the thought off yet again, Wilhemina began to think about an outfit for the night: she had a gorgeous, flowy winter dress she hadn’t had the chance to wear yet; it was deep purple in color, of course, and had a belt around the waist. Venable would have to try it on and see how she felt, but her mind was pretty much set.

The ride home wasn’t as long as it usually was, which was odd for a Friday afternoon, but Wilhemina for sure appreciated it. When she opened the door to her house, Purpura came meowing happily to greet her. Venable smiled. “Hi, sweetheart.” As usual, she set her purse, shoes and coat aside before sitting down on the couch so she could pet the cat. Purpura jumped on her lap, demanding pets; Venable happily obliged. “How was your day, darling?” She caressed the cat’s head right between her years, scratching the parts Purpura had the most difficulty in doing so. Loud purrs filled the living room. “Your ears are not cold, so I know your sweater is working.” Deep, dark eyes stared at Wilhemina. “Were you cuddling in bed? I bet so.” She leaned to kiss the cat’s little nose, and this time Purpura smelled her face suspiciously. That had happened before. Venable blushed. “That’s Emma,” she murmured. “You should meet her sometime.” The cat meowed. “Yes? Would you like that?” Wilhemina chuckled sweetly. She kept on caressing Purpura’s skin, hand slipping under the sweater. The cat arched her back and purred louder. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. I’ve missed you.” Another meow. “Tomorrow I’ll make sure to give you a bath and moisturize your skin. Would that be good?” Purpura bumped her head against Venable’s cheek, petting herself. “I think that’s a yes.” Placing another kiss on top of the cat’s head, Wilhemina got up to check on her food and water; once she filled them both and cleaned her litter box, Venable walked to the bathroom to take a shower—a bath would take too long. Nervousness began to make its way inside Wilhemina’s chest. She took the time to soap up her skin and just feel the hot water against her sore muscles. Deep breaths left her lips, and sleep began crawling inside. I need to be wide awake for tonight. The warm water always did that to Wilhemina. Oddly enough, it was easier to shower this time; the dark thoughts about her body weren’t as present as they always were. Once she stepped out of the shower, Wilhemina went straight to her bedroom to try the dress on. She stared at her lingerie drawer and bit her lower lip. This is stupid. She took a deep breath and went with her usual purple, lace panties and bra. Then she put the dress on and stared at herself. Brown eyes traveled up and down, judging and nitpicking every single detail of it. I… like it? A smile crawled onto her lips; her cheeks tinted. I hope Emma will like it, too. She took it off for now and put on some comfortable pajamas. I’m so tired. A yawn escaped her lips. Wilhemina decided she would take a nap. After getting in bed, she reached for her phone and quickly texted Emma, letting her know she was safe, and then she set an alarm for an hour and lay back down. Purpura crawled in bed with her, cuddling close to her chest. Venable smiled sleepily. “I don’t know why I’m so tired,” she murmured, hand reaching to caress the cat. “I can’t be tired tonight.” Another yawn escaped Wilhemina’s lips. Her eyes began to close, and she quickly dozed off.

The loud sound of the alarm on her phone was what caused Venable to stir from her slumber. Quickly, she reached to turn it off, and as her eyes opened, consciousness began to dawn on her. And was Wilhemina glad she had managed to sleep, for nervousness crawled inside stronger than ever. She checked her texts, and Emma’s name was right on top: ’I just got home, too. Glad you made it safe!’ read the first one; the second one was Emma’s address along with a heart emoji. Venable opened the map and checked the route to mentally prepare for it, and then she got up to start getting ready. Purpura yawned from the bed and watched her sleepily. The first thing Wilhemina did was undress and put her robe on, then she proceeded to do her hair. Brown eyes stared at herself in the mirror while she brushed the fiery locks. I’m nervous. She licked her lips. What if it’s all a joke? Venable would be surprised with such a thought still crossing her mind hadn’t she known herself. Shaking her head, Venable let go of the brush and grabbed the straightener, which had been heating up, and began working on her roots. Her hair was naturally wavy, so she only bothered straightening the parts that curled weirdly up there. Once her hair was done, Venable took yet another a deep breath. I shouldn’t be this nervous… She had had a date with Emma before, and everything had gone just fine. But it felt different this time; more intimate, more serious, and that was scary. Intimacy was always scary for Wilhemina. Sitting down at her vanity, Venable began to work on her makeup; she did her usual: eyeshadow, mascara, lipstick and blush. The only difference was that, this time, she put on some highlighter on her cheekbones. Wilhemina wasn’t sure if she enjoyed doing her makeup. She could stare at herself and point out hundred of flaws, could nitpick every single detail she didn’t like about herself. Sometimes it was easier, sometimes it was harder. Emma sees me every single day. But she saw her with makeup and hair done and nice clothes. Billie Dean saw me in my pajamas with a clean face… Venable hadn’t really stopped to think about that; Billie had seen her in her most vulnerable form, and just today she had complimented her yet again. She still thinks I’m beautiful. Would Emma still think that way when she saw her in her natural form? Will she still be attracted to me when she feels or sees my back? Wilhemina gulped. Her eyes fell down to her lap. Now is not the time to think about that. But Venable’s thoughts had begun to spiral and her breath had begun to labor. I need a Valium. From that point on, it would only get worse, so why would she wait? Venable downed the pill with a glass of water before sitting down at the end of the bed, waiting for her heart to calm down. Purpura meowed as she walked to her. Venable caressed the cat until she could think clearly again, and then she finally moved to put on her dress and a pair of black stockings. The dress stopped near her knees, and it was cold outside. Staring at herself, Wilhemina tried her boots on; they matched perfectly. She smiled. I don’t look that bad. With her makeup all done she almost thought she looked beautiful. With a deep breath, Venable turned around and began searching for a purse; she found a clutch, which was more than enough. In there, she put her keys, wallet and a bottle of Valium—just for precaution. And then she walked to the kitchen and opened the wine cabinet. Brown eyes looked around every single bottle in there. Pinot Noir… 1980. Wilhemina reached for it. Now, all settled, she sat down at the couch. I forgot to put on perfume. Just as quickly as she sat down, she got up; Purpura watched her from the bedroom doorframe. “I know, sweetheart… I’m nervous.” Spraying more than necessary of the perfume onto her skin, Venable took another deep breath. I love Lavender. The corners of her lips turned up. She stared at herself in the mirror yet again, looking for whatever else could be missing. Jewelry! “I’m so fucking stupid,” Venable mindlessly murmured to herself as she found her lavender necklace and earrings. Then, to top it off, she put on a few rings. Now I’m all set. She walked to the living room again and sat back down on the couch. Purpura climbed beside her, watching Wilhemina with dark, big eyes. Venable reached for her phone. She stared at the screen. 7:30 p.m. She should get going… but something was missing. Bitting her inner cheek, Wilhemina clicked on her texts; Billie Dean’s name was right there, with no new messages. Their whole interaction right before Billie left came back inside her mind, and Venable couldn’t help but… worry. A text won’t hurt. Billie Dean would probably not even have time to answer her anytime soon. Hesitantly, she began to type: ’Thinking of you… I hope everything is going well on set. Don’t forget to eat.’ That didn’t look like a friendly enough text, Wilhemina had decided. So, she did something she never did: used an emoji. With much aversion, she added a smiley face to her text and hit send. Now she could go. Clicking on Emma’s contact, she let her know she was on her way. “Alright,” Venable breathed out. Purpura meowed once. Wilhemina smiled as she looked at her, reaching to pet the cat’s head. “I’ll be back later, darling.” Purpura leaned closer to Venable’s hand, purring gently. “You have plenty of food and water, and your blanket is on my bed.” Wilhemina bit her inner cheek. “I… I think I’ll have fun.” The cat meowed once, causing Venable to let out a small chuckle. “You think so, too? Aren’t you the best little thing I could ever ask for?” Purpura purred louder, and Wilhemina smiled a little more to herself. “Alright.” She reached for her cane and got up, wine and clutch on her free hand. At the door, she stopped to put on her coat, and then she made her way to her car. After setting her GPS to Emma’s address, Venable began to drive. The ride wouldn’t be long it seemed; only thirty to forty minutes. Wilhemina tapped on the wheel, trying to distract her nervous mind. It’ll be just like having lunch… it’ll be okay. Except, it wouldn’t be just like having lunch, and Venable knew it. Emma was cooking for her, they were going to share a bottle of wine and she was going to Emma’s place. None of it was like having lunch on a public bakery in the middle of the work shift. It’ll be just like it was with Billie Dean. Even Wilhemina herself didn’t believe it. Billie Dean didn’t want to kiss her all the time, hold her all the time, caress her all the time… I wish she did. “Stop it,” Venable murmured out loud as she stopped at a red light. Those thoughts made no sense. She appreciated Emma.

Soon enough, Wilhemina was parking in front of what she figured was Emma’s house. She had never been in such neighborhood, but she knew it was a nice one; not as wealthy as Billie Dean’s, but definitely wealthy. She turned her car off and looked up at the house. It was beautiful, huge. Should my house be bigger? Everyone seemed to have such big houses, and while Venable’s wasn’t necessarily small, it definitely wasn’t massive like Emma’s and Billie Dean’s. The things I think about when I’m nervous. Wilhemina could almost laugh at herself. With quiet steps, she walked towards the gate, wine and purse in hand. She pressed the button once, and in no time Emma’s voice came through the speaker. “Wilhemina?”

“It’s she.”

“I’m opening.” The gate began to move, and Venable’s heels and cane clacked on the pavement as she made her way into the patio; there was a small concrete path between a neatly organized garden. Beautiful. Emma soon opened the door, smiling at her. “Hi, beautiful.”

Wilhemina was so nervous she almost missed the words. Brown eyes looked up and to the house, and she kept on walking that way. Emma was wearing a dress as well, but hers clung way more to her body when compared to Venable’s. I, too, would wear tight clothes if I had her body. “Hello,” Wilhemina finally said when she reached the door.

Emma smiled brightly at her. “Let me help you.” She reached for the wine. Venable felt small. I don’t need help. She squeezed her cane and tightened her jaw; Emma definitely meant no harm. “I’ll put it in the kitchen. Make yourself comfortable, there’s a hanger on the corner for your coat.” Emma stepped aside, and with hesitant steps, Venable stepped in. The living room was huge, beautiful, well decorated. Emma’s heels clacked on the wooden floor as she closed the door and quickly walked to the kitchen. Now, alone in the room, Wilhemina looked around. She stood there, not very sure of what to do, so she began with taking her coat off. Calm down. She took a deep breath, and then, from the corner of her eye, she saw a tiny kitten staring at her.

“Hi,” Venable whispered. She knew that was Miracle. “It’s nice to finally meet you.” Carefully, she walked closer to the kitten. Miracle took a step back, eyes huge. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll leave you alone.” Miracle would come to her if she felt comfortable. Wilhemina looked around once again.

“You can sit down.” Emma’s voice echoed through the room as she stepped back in.

Venable looked at her. “Sure.” She nervously licked her lips.

Emma chuckled softly. She walked to the bigger couch and sat down, tapping on the spot beside her as she looked at Venable. Wilhemina moved to sit down beside her, posture as neat as always. “Did you find it easily?”

“Yes.” Venable set her purse on her lap. And then she didn’t know what else to say. Emma was resting her elbow on the backrest, leaning closer to her with those emerald eyes. Wilhemina gulped. “I—I had never been in this neighborhood.”

“Really?”

Venable nodded. And only then she allowed herself to actually focus on Emma and Gosh, her makeup was so beautiful; black eyeliner and red lipstick, simple, but it complimented her face so nicely. “You look really good,” she said softly.

“Why, thank you.” Emma’s smile grew a little. “So do you, but what’s new?”

“Oh, sush.” A chuckle escaped Wilhemina’s lips. “Thank you.”

Emma hummed. She looked over to the center table, watching as Dots climbed on top of it. “Look who’s here to welcome you,” she said sweetly.

Wilhemina looked over. She smiled. “Oh, hello.” The cat meowed once and already jumped between them on the couch. She chuckled, so did Emma.

“He’s very friendly,” Emma commented as she petted the cat.

“I can see that.” Wilhemina let Dots smell her hand before doing anything else. The cat already bumped his head against it, demanding pets. Venable chuckled yet again. “Oh, you’re so sweet.” She scratched between his ears. It was funny to feel the fur; a nice contrast between what she was used to with Purpura.

“He likes you almost as much as I do,” Emma teased.

Wilhemina felt her insides getting cold. She bit her inner cheek as she kept on caressing the cat. Do I like her like that? She didn’t know. She didn’t think so. And her mind inevitably slipped to Billie Dean. I like her almost as much as I like Purpura. The realization was fucking terrifying, for Purpura was, without a doubt, the most important thing in Venable’s life. Silence lingered almost for too long. Almost. Dots meowed at Wilhemina, causing the both of them to chuckle. “Yes, darling?” The cat bumped his head against Venable’s hand again, moving to lay on her lap.

Emma let out a loud laugh. “Oh, that’s adorable.” She reached for her phone and pointed it to Wilhemina. “Smile!” Wilhemina weirdly looked at the phone. Her lips were curled up from the interaction with Dots, but it was uncomfortable to be photographed like that. It’s no harm. Venable waited for Emma to take the picture and quickly looked back down at the cat on her lap. Dots purred loudly. “Oh, you both look adorable. I’ll send you the picture.” Emma typed something on her phone. Wilhemina nodded, but kept quiet. Underneath the center table, Miracle was the one to crawl now. Curiously, the kitten sniffed Venable’s boots. “Hi, cutie,” Emma reached to pick up the cat, but Venable quickly shook her head.

“Let her be,” Wilhemina said softly. “She’ll come closer if she’s comfortable.”

Hesitantly, Emma leaned back against the couch. “I guess you’re right.” The kitten kept on taking hesitation steps. Dots meowed down at her, and Miracle instantly meowed back. Brown eyes watched the interaction with wonder; Venable had always loved cats. Cats never judged. Slowly, Miracle put her paws up against Wilhemina’s legs, and Dots leaned down to smell her. Venable’s smile grew in size.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Wilhemina said softly, sweetly. Gently, she offered a hand for the cat to smell. This time, Miracle did so with way more confidence. Venable could feel Dots purring on top of her nonstop, which gave her a different kind of happiness. Slowly, Miracle bumped her little head against Wilhemina’s fingers.

“Aw…”

Venable giggled. She caressed Miracle the best she could without hurting her back. “I won’t hurt you, darling.” Her fingers scratched between the kitten’s ears, and her other hand kept on caressing Dots’ soft fur.

“Adorable,” Emma commented sweetly. “I’ll go grab us some wine.”

Wilhemina nodded without taking her eyes away from the cats. When Emma got up, however, Miracle got startled and crawled back under the table. Venable pouted, but respected it. Dots kept on getting caresses, but his head peeked up and he watched as Emma left. “You can go after her if you want, sweetheart,” Wilhemina said softly. “I can pet you later.” As if he understood, Dots jumped off of Venable’s lap and followed Emma. With a small chuckle, Venable leaned back against the couch. She looked around the room, only then realizing the huge Christmas tree on the corner. I haven’t decorated my house yet. Christmas brought Wilhemina a sense of sadness she didn’t really appreciate; all her life, she had spent Christmas alone—saving from when she was still at the orphanage. And when she had been with Lisa. A bitter taste invaded her mouth. Brown eyes looked away from the tree and down at her lap. I might not even decorate this time. Why would she? Purpura wasn’t a big fan of the tree anyways. But not decorating felt strangely wrong. Since when did Venable care about those things? I always buy Purpura a gift or two, though… Wilhemina would have to give it more thought. Shaking it off by now, she tapped on her lap to try and put some of the cats’ fur away. She didn’t really mind it, though. Heels clacked on the wooden floor again, causing Venable to look back up. Emma entered the living room with two glasses of wine in hand. “Thank you,” she said as Emma sat back down beside her.

“Of course.” Emma handed Wilhemina one of the glasses before taking a sip. A loud hum left her lips. “This is fantastic.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Venable took a sip as well, eyes closing as she savored the rich taste. Wine was definitely one of her favorite things, even if she didn’t drink much. “Pinot Noir, 1980.”

Emma nodded. “I can tell it’s a great batch.”

“It is.” Coincidentally or not, it was the year Wilhemina had been born. She had always found it to be a funny coincidence. And a callous joke. I’m far away from being a great batch.

Emma leaned her head against her palm once again, elbow on the couch as her free hand held the glass. “Are you interested in wine?”

They were close once again. Venable sat up a little better. “A little bit, yes. I’ve read a few books, but that’s about it.”

Emma hummed. “Interesting.” She took another sip. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a wine enthusiast.”

Wilhemina couldn’t help but chuckle at the term. “I don’t really know if I fit into that category.” She took a sip.

Emma smiled. “I think you do.”

“If you say so.” Venable licked her lips clean, and the way Emma’s emerald eyes fell down to it didn’t go as unnoticed. When their eyes met again, Emma’s cheeks blushed a little.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t stop,” Emma bit her lip.

Venable felt her own cheeks tinting back. What a funny feeling. “Can’t stop, what?”

“Staring at your lips… wanting to kiss you.” Emma had no problem in saying it out loud. Her voice had dropped an octave, causing Wilhemina’s stomach to do that twist again. “You didn’t kiss me hello…” Her lips opened in a cheeky smile.

Venable couldn’t help but chuckle. “You didn’t kiss me hello, either.”

“That is true…” Emma discretely moved even closer. “Well, that can’t continue being a problem, right?” Her free hand reached to caress one of Wilhemina’s cheeks. I’m growing fond of it. Venable nodded at the words, and soon enough their lips collided delicately. Wilhemina sighed against Emma’s lips; she could still taste the wine in her tongue. Emma kissed her softly, but this time there was something more behind it. Or maybe it was just Venable’s head with the change in settings. Either way, her stomach twisted once again. Emma’s hand caressed her cheek until eventually slipping to play with her hair, causing Wilhemina to shiver. She took a deep breath. Relax. You’ve done this before. Trying to think, Venable’s free hand reached to caress whatever she could find—which happened to be Emma’s knee. She rested her palm there, thumb caressing the silk of Emma’s tights. Against her lips, Emma hummed. “I like it when you touch me,” Emma breathed out between their kiss, and Wilhemina’s lower stomach began to burn. Venable offered her a small smile before kissing her again. With Emma’s lips working on synch with hers and with their tongues brushing and twirling together, Wilhemina’s heart began to beat a bit faster. She focused on all the sensations her body felt, while still being mindful of the wine glass in her hand, which brought her a sense of safety. Emma slipped her lips to Wilhemina’s jaw all of a sudden, and brown eyes opened up as she subconsciously bent her head back. Emma smirked. “I’ve been thinking… about your neck… ever since our date…” Venable gulped. The position was hurting her back, and she was scared Emma would spill her wine all over the creme couch. So she pulled away. Emma stared at her with a hint of confusion.

Shit. Weirdly, Wilhemina looked away. “I’m sorry, my neck was—was bent weirdly.”

“It’s okay.” Emma instantly reached to caress Venable’s hand on top of her own leg. With her eyes still on her, she took a sip of the wine. Wilhemina smiled a little and did the same. Silence made itself present once again. “Are you hungry? Dinner is ready.”

I’m so fucking inadequate. Venable always had to ruin everything. At the offer, she nodded. “Yes… thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Emma got up and offered a hand to Wilhemina, who shyly denied it and reached for her cane. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Venable shook it off. She felt so small, so incompetent. I should have stayed home. “Do not apologize.” It wasn’t Emma’s fault she was all wrong, so damn insufficient, weak, miserable. I need a break. Her chin wanted to tremble, her molars hurt from how much she had been tightening her jaw. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Emma frowned in confusion for a split second. “To the right, uh, on the hall.” She pointed to it.

Wilhemina looked that way and gave her a nod before quietly walking there. She locked the door behind herself and turned the lights on. And then, she stared at the mirror. Her brown eyes threatened to overflow. I should have stayed home. Who am I, thinking I could ever manage to adequate myself for a date on someone else’s house? She gulped harshly, knuckles white as she squeezed the cane. Her eyes didn’t blink not even once; Wilhemina kept on staring at herself in the mirror, almost as if she was daring herself to cry. Her heart was beating fast. I want a Valium. She had already taken one before leaving home, and more than that was off limits to Venable. I should be able to function like a normal human being, for fuck’s sake! The hand squeezing the cane squeezed it so hard Wilhemina feared she would injure herself. Her eyes were still blankly staring at the reflexes on the mirror, tears there but not really. And then her phone vibrated. And Wilhemina knew who that was. And for a split second, she could breathe.

[holycatsandrabbits]

Love’s Endless Light: A Good Omens serial romance

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Chapter 11: In Love's Safekeeping

2019, Mayfair, London, England

Aziraphale sat on Crowley’s uncomfortable black couch and watched Crowley pace about his flat, bouncing on his feet even though he was so visibly tired. There had been a stain on the floor when they’d arrived, holy water and what had been the demon Ligur. Aziraphale had cleaned it carefully, but he thought he could still smell the holy aura in the air.

Crowley looked thin and pale and a cross between anguished and deliriously happy. There was a smile that kept stealing onto his face, before he chased it away.

“I suppose,” Aziraphale said quietly, bravely, “we should have gone faster. If this was going to be the end of it, so soon.”

That smile worked its way onto Crowley’s mouth again. He’d removed his dark glasses, and his snake eyes shone gold. “It’s not the end, angel. Can’t be. We can’t have gotten this far just to lose it.”

Aziraphale felt his tired body tremble with anxiety. “I think that’s— I’m sorry, my dear, but I really think that’s the way this is going to go. And it’s my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

Aziraphale had sworn he’d never tell Crowley the whole of it, because he was ashamed, because it was useless, because it felt like instead of talking, he would just break open and the words would fall out. But there was no reason to keep it a secret any longer. Not when this was their last night. Crowley deserved to know. “I mean this is my punishment,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley looked bewildered. “For what?”

“For the War in Heaven!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “For saving demons, for giving away my sword. For all the things I’ve done since, rescuing people when Gabriel said not to, writing false reports, healing you. I wasn’t sure until we— until I knew I loved you. But I’m sure now.”

“Sure about what?”

“That I Fell. That I’m Fallen.”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale like he was speaking a language that Crowley had long forgotten. “Show me your wings.”

Aziraphale took a moment to remove his coat, and then miracled holes in his shirt to let the wings erupt forth. They stretched themselves out in the empty space, feathers rustling quietly.

“They’re white,” Crowley said.

“Falling’s not the same for everyone.”

“Yes, it is. You Fall, you become a demon.” Crowley tilted his head in that sharp, snakeline manner he had, showing his demonic aspect clearly. “I would know.”

“I’m being punished,” Aziraphale said, resolutely. “I don’t belong in Heaven. The other angels hate me. The one person who loves me— I can't accept that love. The one person I love— I can't give it. What is that if not Hell? I disobeyed Her, and it pleases Her to punish me like this, an angel in his own personal torment. But the worst part is, She’s punishing both of us. We’re both in this misery and it’s my fault.”

“I’m not in misery,” Crowley said, lightly, quite as if he wasn’t. He crossed the room and sat down on the little coffee table in front of the couch, reaching out to take Aziraphale’s hands in his own. “That’s not what I feel with you. Never has been.”

“We’re going to die tomorrow,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley looked amused. It was beautiful on him, as every happy look was, brightening his eyes, rounding his face. “Really? The angel who guarded demons in the War is going to let Hell get me this time? I don’t think so. And just so you know, I’m not going to let Heaven get you either.”

Aziraphale squeezed his hands, it was too hard not to. They’d held hands on the bus for hours, with no one to notice anymore. “But how—”

“Well, for me, holy water, I’d guess.”

“No,” Aziraphale said forcefully. “Not now, not after everything. I won’t lose you that way.”

Crowley’s smile got larger. “There’s my guardian angel.”

Aziraphale let out a frustrated sigh. “But I—” He looked down at their hands, fitted together, their fingers laced, as if there wasn’t a firm boundary between them, as if they weren’t separate people at all. “I could take your place,” Aziraphale said slowly. “I’ll take the holy water for you.”

“Then I’ll take the hellfire for you,” Crowley said. “And we’ll survive it.” He raised their joined hands and pressed a kiss to their fingers. “Angel,” he said quietly, “this is the reason I go on. This is what saves me, not what damns me. It’s not a punishment, it never has been.”

Aziraphale blinked away the tears that were filling his eyes. “Then why— why haven’t I been punished for what I did? For the War in Heaven? For letting Adam and Eve escape? For everything since?”

“Maybe,” Crowley said gently, “because you’ve been doing the right thing.”

“It can’t be. It was against orders!”

Crowley scoffed. “I don’t see why you think Gabriel always had things right and you always had them wrong. He tried to help cause the end of the world. You wanted to protect the entirety of Heaven, Hell, and Earth. That one’s kind of obvious.” Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s hand again. “I have faith in you, do you know that?”

Aziraphale leaned forward and kissed him. It was softer, a less desperate thing than their first kiss, until Crowley made a little groaning noise in his throat. Aziraphale tugged his hands free from Crowley’s to slide them behind his head, pressing closer.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley breathed against his lips. “I need you.”

“You have me,” Aziraphale promised. He stood up, drawing Crowley up with him, kissing him all the while. Crowley tasted sweet, and he clutched at Aziraphale, sliding fingers into his hair.

Aziraphale had thought that their first kiss had been something hard-fought, like a treasure grasped from the very claws of a beast, a feat that could not be replicated. But here were endless kisses from Crowley, so many that Aziraphale could not count them, given freely.

Aziraphale had thought that if they ever gave into this, one of them pressing the other against the wall, stumbling feet and wandering hands, laughing when their noses bumped, moaning when it was their hips, that it would feel like Falling. Because it was wrong not only to have this, but to even want it.

It didn’t feel wrong. In the same way that it hadn’t felt wrong ever for Aziraphale to stretch out his wings to protect the enemy, to stretch out his hands to heal those the other angels had wounded. It didn’t feel wrong now to fold his wings around Crowley as they kissed, keeping him close and safe. That shouldn’t have been right, by all the rules that Aziraphale had ever been taught.

Apparently, the rules were wrong.

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Updates Fridays on Ao3 and Tumblr.

Want to create fic, art, or other works based on this series? Please do! Just dm or tag me.

Coming August 20: "Tollense," my next serial romance. A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

My previous Good Omens serial: Mr. Fell’s Bookshop

My Carrd

*********

Image text: Love’s Endless Light by Dannye Chase (HolyCatsAndRabbits) Chapter 11

As Aziraphale and Crowley slowly fall in love over the millennia, Crowley discovers that Aziraphale is keeping a very dangerous secret.

[all1e23]

Powdered Sugar

Pairings: Sugar Daddy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Boston didn’t come without repercussions. 

Warnings:  A bit angsty, but Bucky is all love sick if that helps. 

A/N:   It’s a shorter chapter but it’s still important and it sets up where our slightly dumb couple is headed. I tried to grab everyone who asked for a tag recently if I missed you please let me know and I’ll add you. This is the fourth part of my series Sugary Sweet. Make sure you catch up! 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!***

It felt good to be home. Every time Bucky’s left New York and came back, it made him realize how much this city really was home. Now you were part of that. You were home. It had been five days since you left Bucky to fend for himself in Boston. On the morning of your flight, he got up before the sun was and drove you to the airport. He kissed you for fifteen minutes in front of the airport security check-in and nearly made you late for your flight; he couldn't help it. He hated being away from you, and knowing it would be days before he could hold you again, he might have gone a little overboard — Bucky wanted to make sure you wouldn’t forget about him before he made it back to Brooklyn and to you. 

Steve handed over three folded bills to the cashier behind the counter and took two paper cups of coffee, passing one to Bucky. It was their first day back in the office since closing the deal with Carol, and Bucky was having trouble focusing on his job for the first time in his life. He desperately wanted to ditch work and spend the rest of the day in bed with you, but he had a company to run, and he had to be a grown-up. 

As Steve reminded him, all damn day. 

“So, what’s going on with you and Y/n? You both were... different in Boston.” 

“I don’t know Stevie. That last night…” Bucky shook his head and stared at the white plastic lid over his coffee, he couldn’t explain it — there were no words to describe how he felt about you and what happened this past week only made things more confusing. 

“It was different. She said I was her stupid, and things were just different from how they usually are. The way we were with each other... I dunno, man.” 

Steve was quiet for a long beat before he looked at Bucky with a small grimace he asked, “You’re excited because she called you stupid? I call you stupid all the time.” 

“No, it wasn’t like that—” 

“Sam constantly calls you dumb. All the time. I have to separate you two—”  

“Steve!’ Bucky groaned and shoved Steve away from him. He was not in the mood. He was already grumpy because he wouldn't get to see you until the Stark Gala, and now Steve was pissing him off with the dumb questions. 

“She said my stupid. It’s the ‘my’ part I was talkin’ about, dumbass. She called me hers, and it wasn’t the first time, either.” 

“What else did she say?” Steve urged with a wide grin. 

Bucky felt his cheeks pink, and his ears were burning. He cleared his throat and grumbled through a forced cough. “Uh, she called me her… fella.” 

Steve chuckled and bumped Bucky’s shoulder with his. If Sam were there, he probably would have teased him over the pet name, but Steve didn’t. He liked seeing Bucky this happy, and Steve knew it was all thanks to you. He wasn’t about to cheapen Bucky’s feelings by teasing him over a silly name.

“You’re in deep, aren’t you?” Steve asked, already knowing the answer, and Bucky grinned and told him honestly, “Yeah, I think I am, Stevie.” 

Bucky fished his phone out of his pocket, with all this talk, and he realized he hadn’t heard from you yet today. This was a sign. Boston was the push he needed. He needed to stop this nonsense, and tell you what he wanted, tell you where he wanted your relationship to go. He was going to tell you what’s on his heart at the Stark Gala — he was done playing around. You had to know he was all in, but if you wanted to keep things the way they were, he could be okay with that. He will stick around for as long as you’ll have him because he was already in love with you. 

It was going to hurt when you leave him no matter what, you should at least know how he felt when you do walk away. 

You arrived home nearly six days ago, and from the moment you stepped through the door, you refused to talk about the trip or Bucky. There wasn’t a moment of that trip you wanted to relive — even the good parts, it would only make the bad parts more painful. Pretending as if the terrible, awful, wonderful week never happened was the only way you could clean up the mess you made of your heart.

Of course, it would be easier to forget if your roommate minded her own business, and she wouldn’t let it go. 

Every time Natasha asked you a question about Boston or Bucky, you evaded. You would change the subject back to her or offer to buy dinner, and Clint would change the topic for you — the pizza or Chinese debate always bought you an hour. Natasha would only put up with that for so long, though. There was no way you could keep that up forever, and you knew that, but you couldn’t get the words out even if you wanted to. 

It hurt. You needed distance between you and the damage that was done — if you were going to find a way to repair it. 

This morning, you sat at the counter spoon hanging loosely from your hand, spinning your cereal as you stared at your phone in your other hand. You had been like this since you opened Instagram, sitting and gawking at your phone. You couldn’t eat. All you could do was stare. Not after you saw what Sam posted. Most of his additions were of the boys and usually picking on Bucky, but the latest picture was what caught your attention. It looked like it was their last night in Boston, and Carol was smushed between the men. 

Against your better judgment, your thumb took on a life of its own and clicked her profile. Carol had reposted Sam’s original image, but there was another photo that made a green monster stir in your chest. The look of their attire said it was towards the end of the night, jackets had been shed, and hair was let down— it was only her and Bucky this time.

Bucky had been caught mid-laugh, glowing smirk and little eye crinkles in captured in Mayfair or whatever the hell filter she deemed was best to highlight your boyfriend— Bucky. He was not your boyfriend. Carol's arm was linked in Bucky's, and she was gazing at him adoringly, but it was the caption that had your hackles raised. 

Can you believe no one has snatched this man up?  He’s more than just a pretty face, let me tell you. Sweet like you wouldn’t believe and knows how to negotiate. Can’t wait to start working with this stud. 

“Why don’t you snatch him up?” 

You jumped at the sound of Natasha’s voice coming from over your shoulder and dropped your phone to the counter, narrowly missing your bowl of milk. You hated it when she did that. 

“Seriously?” You whined loudly. “I told you not sneak up on me!” 

“Sorry. I said your name three times, but you were busy staring at your phone like it was going to turn into something. So, did you snatch him up?” 

You shook your head, letting her know you didn’t want to talk about it, but you had to say something. It had been days since it all went down, and she would find out eventually. It was better she found out now before Bucky tired of you and found someone else. You slid off the stool to drop your bowl in the sink. Your cheerios were soggy anyway. 

“No, I didn’t, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Y/n, what happened--”

“He doesn’t want to be snatched up, okay? Least of all by me.”

Natasha watched you dump your breakfast in the trash and pour your glass of orange juice down the sink. You avoided her eyes, but she could still see the hurt filling them, as you explained everything that happened in Boston and everything you heard that night. None of it made any sense. Bucky told her how he felt, the whole truth, and no one lies to Natasha. 

“Y/n, I know that’s not true.” Natasha pointed to where you were standing and told you what happened that morning he invited you to Boston. “He stood right there, looked me in the eye, and said you meant something to him. He said he was going to tell you in Boston how much you meant to him and that he wanted more than this game you two are playing." 

"Well, he lied!” You shouted, falling back against the counter from the blowback of the admission. “Of course, he lied. You’re my best friend. You probably would have killed him and hid the body before I got out of the shower. He’s not going to tell you the truth because he knew you would tell me.”

“And why do you think he told them the truth?”

“Steve is his best friend and his business partner. They all served together, Steve, Sam, and Bucky. They are brothers, and he’s known Sharon for over a decade before she ever married Steve. There is no way he lied to them, and even if he did lie to them, it doesn’t make him any better. It only means he’s embarrassed to with me, so he lied to the people closest to him.” 

Natasha wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. He lied to someone, and no matter who caught the lie and who heard the truth, none of it was good.

“You need to talk to him. Tell him what you heard and let him explain himself. Maybe it’s all a misunderstanding. If it turns out he is a total dick, you can use the moves I taught you freshmen year and give him a broken arm as a parting gift.”

A single kiss dropped to your cheek, and she left you alone to find your way through the tangled web of dark thoughts spinning around your head. Natasha was right — like always. You needed to talk to him about the trip, but first… You grabbed your phone from where it fell on the counter and pulled up your messages. Your stupid fingers were at it again. A quick screenshot of Carol’s post, you dropped into the textbox and typed furiously before your brain could gain control over your fingers. 

You: Looks like you had fun. Did you finally get snatched up? 

That sounded awful and jealous and childish. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to be with you, your phone mocks. 

You watched three bubbles pop up right away as if he was already sending you something or at the very least, had his phone in his hand, and guilt swam up your throat, choking you. He was probably working, and you were sending him childish messages fueled by jealousy.  

Fella❤: I had more fun when you were with me. I got snatched up months ago. Sorry to say.  A sweet girl stole me away. Made me her fella, didn't you hear? 

You hated how he could say things that meant so much to you and mean so little to him, and you really hated how much you didn’t hate it at all. 

You: Did she? Really? 

Fella ❤: Really and truly. She did. I was hoping she would be my date to the Stark Modern Art Charity Gala this weekend. I was about to ask her when I got your message. I haven't seen her in days, and I'm itchin' to have her on my arm again. 

Of course, on his arm for show and nothing more. 

You: That can be arranged. I don't have a dress, though. I don’t want to embarrass you.

Fella ❤: You could wear a garbage bag and be beautiful, and you could never embarrass me. BUT if you insist on getting dressed up. I think I have something in mind. I'll send it over. 

Fella ❤: What has you thinking I could ever be embarrassed by you? 

You ignored the question and hoped your answer would keep him distracted so you could have that conversation in person.

You: Okay, I’ll be your girl for the night. 

Fella ❤: I hope after the gala it will be more than just one night, sweet girl. 

Ordinarily, Bucky’s flirting and little sexual innuendos would make your toes curl, and those stupid butterflies in your stomach flutter — maybe even laugh if it was silly enough, but it didn’t. It left you feeling empty and… wanting. Which only made your choice easier. Of course, you were going to go wherever he wanted you to go because truthfully, five days was far too long without him. You missed him. You missed so much your chest ached, and the only thing that could ease the hurt was seeing him. 

If being Bucky’s sugar baby was the only way you could have him, then you were going to take what he could give until he was done with you because you were not ready to lose him just yet.

[aziraphales-library]

do you know of any fandom classics that are post canon and preferably on the longer side?

Let's see!

A Memory of Eden by ImprobableDreams900 [M] (mind the tags!)

When Crowley gets captured by angels and dragged up to Heaven, Aziraphale knows he has to rescue him—no matter the consequences.

The Sandford Flower Show by Mussimm [E]

Crowley had waited six thousand years, kept it all in check. But this was the slipperiest slope he’d ever set foot on and as soon as he’d indulged in a few discretionary acts of kindness he was falling face first into pining, tumbling into flirting, about to dislocate his knees on the sharp rocks of intimacy.

Was this really it? What he had waited six thousand years for? A stupid flower show? Aziraphale wasn’t pulling away from him. Maybe… maybe this time he wouldn’t? Maybe they’d hold hands again. Maybe tonight with a bottle of merlot in them he’d finally work up the courage and just kiss him and he wouldn’t pull away.

The very moment he’d thought it he spotted the problem at the flower show.

~Mod N

And a few from me...

Good Endings by WyvernQuill (T)

A Narrative of Certain Events following the Ending of the World (Except Not Quite), as vaguely hinted at in The Slapdash and Not Very Helpful Prophetic Tidbit of Agnes Nutter, Witch (And Matchmaker.)

"Their lives are in horrible, terrible danger that only we can save them from!" Anathema held up the Prophetic Tidbit. "It says so. Right here." Madame Tracy peered at the page. Raised a meaningful eyebrow. "Dearie, as a woman of, well, considerable experience, I really don't think that's what 'the lyttle Deathe' means in this context..."

"Huh." Anathema squinted. Flipped the page. Read another bit. "....huh."

(Or, alternatively: Eight - give or take - matchmakers trying really, really hard, honest; two clueless ethereal/occult beings mutually pining their endless days away; and one witch, who can't leave well enough alone when it comes to matters of the heart, no matter how many centuries ago she died.)

Instructions Not Included by Atalan (T)

"They'll leave us alone. For a bit."

One year after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't, Crowley and Aziraphale have settled into a new routine: keeping an eye on supernatural happenings in the world and preventing Heaven or Hell from interfering too much with humanity. It's not a bad job - despite occasional rains of fish - and if there are some unspoken things they really ought to talk about, well, they have all the time in the world now to get around to that, right?

At least, until the Archangel Raphael turns up on their doorstep looking for help... and it starts to become clear that the world is changing fast, and so are they.

Or: Crowley and Aziraphale start a detective agency. Shenanigans ensue. Slowburn continues. Apparently, there is plot. I have some thoughts about Heaven, Hell, and humanism. There will be stupid jokes and a healthy sprinkling of angst.

A Curious Case of Miracles on Marlborough Street by akfedeau (M)

After stopping the apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale finally take the next step in their six-thousand-year friendship. But when a spate of miracles sweeps across Soho and Mayfair, they realize their amorous escapades may have an unintended side effect. As they scramble to restore balance and an archangel arrives to investigate, Heaven and Hell’s messengers learn that you can never have too much of a good thing.

Vita Nova by AMidnightDreary (M)

“Angel, bloody hell. Hi. You doing okay? Do you have any idea what’s going on?” It was quiet for a few seconds. “I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said then, still polite, but a bit perplexed. “Who is this?”

*

Crowley, upon finding that Aziraphale does not remember him, is very much Not Okay with the changes Adam made after the Apocalypse That Wasn't. He can't do anything but try and make the best out of it, though.

- Mod D

[aziraphalesrarebooks]

Day 14- Eggnog

Various locations, London

 The staff Christmas party was in just a few days. It was the one night of the year where the entire staff was off and of course, required to be in attendance. There would be plenty of booze and food to be had, along with gifts and holiday cheer. 

 The house was a buzz of energy and excitement. In the kitchen, three women spoke of a shopping trip in the upcoming week for new holiday dresses in hopes of tempting their crushes. 

 “I think it’s a great idea, Liz, really,” Crowley said with a grin. Spending their entire Christmas bonus on a new dress guaranteed to never be worn again? It could easily be written as a temptation in his book and get Dagon off his ass for a few days. A true Christmas miracle. 

 Liz raised an eyebrow at him, “What about you Coraline? Hm? Plan on dressing up for a certain gardener?” she teased. 

  He blushed, unable to control the heat that crept up the back of his neck and cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, looking down at his feet and certainly not towards the two maids who were now grinning cheekily at him.

“Coraline!” laughed Sarah, “You know he’s sweet on you!”

 “Exactly, oh!” exclaimed Liz, “You should get something that shows a bit of skin! Honey, show a man some cleavage and tell ‘em whose boss and you’ve got him!”

 Crowley had turned red from the tip of his nose to the top of his chest, this was not behavior becoming of a demon such as himself. He wondered how his simple temptation had suddenly been turned around on him, “Girls, he’s not interested in me like that.” He'd know, it wasn't like he hadn't been trying to get Aziraphale to notice him in that way for the last six thousand years. 

 Sarah snorted as Liz rolled her eyes.

 “Please! Honey, you don’t bring someone bouquets and plant their favorite flowers if you aren’t interested in them. He’s probably just shy!”

 Sarah nodded, “you don’t see the way he watches you when you walk away.”

 He tapped the side of his wine glass, a bottle they’d procured from the wine stores below the kitchen. Then, he sighed, “alright, tomorrow morning I’m off and so are the two of you.”

 “Yes!” said Liz, turning to high five Sarah, already making plans for a girls day out. 

   The next morning dawned bright and early, he’d hardly slept at all, especially once a certain three-year-old had found his way into his Nanny’s bed and was currently somehow taking up the entire mattress despite his size.

 He carefully lifted the child and returned him to his bed, then began to dress.

 His casual clothes as  Coraline Ashtoreth  were less constricting, softer and more flattering. He dressed carefully, pulling on a comfortable blouse, blazer, and jeans. He did his makeup as usual before deciding to allow his hair to hang in loose curls around his face.

 He was nervous, he knew clothing and he knew temptations; however, he’d never known the angel to be easily swayed and could only imagine what Aziraphale would do if he thought he was being tempted into something.

 The truth was, even if Aziraphale did for some reason decide to kiss him, hold him, do all the things Crowley so desperately wanted; nothing would come of it. Nothing good could come of it, no matter how much he wished it. 

 Aziraphale was his friend and the time for anything more developing between them was over and had been for a very long time. The moment he fell, Aziraphale put him out of mind. Which was fine. Yes, it hurt but he’d had time to come to terms with the fact Aziraphale didn’t want him in that way. He could love the angel and that would be enough.

 Crowley just hoped the night didn’t end in disaster.

   “Come out, Cor!” said Liz from outside the dressing room. They’d ended up in Knightsbridge after a brunch he’d paid for at a restaurant well above their paygrade. He liked them well enough and didn’t mind using a minor demonic miracle so they wouldn’t question how the Nanny could afford to eat at the  Mayfair .

 They’d been trying on dresses for the last two hours, Liz and Sarah had already purchased their own; and if by some chance both dresses rang up significantly less than on the tag, it was just a nice surprise that he certainly had nothing to do with.

 The dress was floor length with a deep plunging v-neckline. The slinky black material was adorned with silver sequined Celtic knots that accentuated his curves beautifully. Looking at himself in the mirror, he gulped.

 He opened the door to the dressing room and slowly stepped out, feeling much more self-conscious about himself that he had in the past.

 Sarah elbowed Liz and her mouth fell open, “Oh honey, you have to get it! Francis won’t know what hit ‘em!”

 He was starting to flush again, an excited flutter in his abdomen churning, “alright.”

   The day of the party, Crowley, Liz, and Sarah met for lunch followed by a brief spa day. Nails were manicured and hair perfectly coifed.

 They’d returned to Liz’s flat to get dressed, gossiping about the other staff and their new favorite person of topic; Francis.

 Once they were dressed, a cap arrived to take them to the Bulgari Hotel.

 The two women had excitedly been chattering beside him, mainly about David, one of the new secret service agents that had been assigned to the residence only two months prior.

   He’d yet to see Aziraphale, he knew he was going to be in attendance, it was expected of them and he’d mentioned that he would see him there.

Besides, when did Aziraphale ever turn down free food?

   He was feeling pleasantly buzzed between the eggnog and cranberry cocktails that he’d been consuming since they arrived.

 “Don’t look now, but your man is over there by the punch.” Said Liz, elbowing him not so subtly. 

 For the hundredth time that day, he flushed. He was a demon, the creator of original sin and fallen Archangel… who also happened to be completely besotted with an idiot and was unable to control the blood flow to his face. 

 He flicked his long curls over his shoulder, tipped back his third cocktail and sauntered towards Aziraphale, hips swaying seductively as he moved across the floor. 

 “Angel,” he purred as he came to stand beside his friend. He was dressed in clothes more similar to what he typically wore than his typical outfit as Francis. 

 When he turned to look at him he dropped the mini-quiche he was holding, his eyebrows raising into his hairline. “C-Crowley!” he stuttered, “what are you doing dressed like  that !”

 The demon frowned, “just wanted to look nice tonight, angel.”

 “Oh, of course.” Aziraphale, Crowley realized looked hurt and he couldn’t figure out why.

 He grinned at his friend, ladling some of the drink into the mug in his hand before passing it to Aziraphale, “try the eggnog, I have on good authority it has been spiked no less than three times.”

 Aziraphale nodded his head, a slight smile replacing his uncertain expression as he accepted a mug.

   They ended up sitting at the same table as one another while Crowley’s new friends went off to dance.

 Aziraphale sighed, glancing at the demon beside him, “Dear, you look lovely tonight.”

 Crowley felt heat rise to his face, “thankss, Angel, so do you.”

 Aziraphale looked away, tapping his fingers on the white linen cloth. “James has been looking at you all evening, as has Evan and Thomas.”

 Crowley shrugged, “part of the job, temptation and all that.”

 “Of course, of course… it’s just, I wouldn’t mind you dancing with them if you wished, I know I’m not the best company.”

 Crowley tilted his head, gazing at Aziraphale intently, “I’d rather sit here with you than get groped by inexperienced men any day.”

 The angel visibly relaxed but refused to meet his eyes, “but you like dancing, Crowley.”

 “Well, if we’re being honest here Angel, I’d hoped you’d saved a dance for me,” he winked.

 Aziraphale’s featured betrayed his shock momentarily before slightly nodding, “Well, then… that’s,” he swallowed, “My dear, would you care to dance?”

 Red lips pulled into a wide smile, “yeah, I think I would.”

   Aziraphale clumsily led Crowley towards the dance floor, placing his arms in the proper spots as he stiffly began to lead.

 Crowley chuckled warmly, “Angel, nobody dances like this anymore.”

 The angel huffed, furrowing his brow and pursing his lip in annoyance.

 “Here, like this Angel,” whispered Crowley as he pulled the angel flush against him, taking the opportunity to wind his arms around the angel.

 It was a bit awkward at first, but by the end of the song, they were happily swaying to the tune.

 One song, then another.

 As the notes faded on the third song, Crowley felt Aziraphale pull away.

“We can’t dear, you know we can’t.”

 Crowley nodded, “I know Angel.”

 Aziraphale opened his mouth the speak before deciding better, instead, he glanced around the room before leaning over to place a small kiss on Crowley’s cheek.

 The demon felt warm the rest of the night. 

   It had been years since the party at the Bulgari Hotel, years since a stolen peck on the cheek and years since they  finally  confessed their love for one another.

 Aziraphale had decided It was past time to clean out the demon’s wardrobe that had somehow managed to make its home in piles on their bedroom floor and every surrounding flat surface.

 Between the two of them, there were several piles of designer clothing to be given away to charity. The closet had nearly been cleared, as had the piles laying around their bedroom.

 Aziraphale was pleased he could once again use their chairs and see the hardwood floor of their bedroom.

 The angel was rummaging around for more items to donate when his fingers brushed across a familiar garment.

 “Oh Crowley,” whispered Aziraphale as he pulled out the long dress from its spot in their closet, “you still have it.”

 “Hm?” he asked, not looking up from the pile of belts he was looking through.

 “The dress!”

 He glanced towards Aziraphale, ducking his head when he realized what he was holding, “Oh, course, Angel. It was a lucky dress.”

 Aziraphale leans over to give him a quick peck, “dear, perhaps you could wear this to dinner soon. It would be lovely to see you in the dress that sparked many  inspiring  dreams.”

 “Ngk,” he replied as a heavy flush bloomed across his face and neck.

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

The Angel’s Share - Ch. 2

Chapter: 2 of ?

Rating: PG-13

Summary: We are introduced to the female lead in the story, Katherine Adams, AKA Kate, who runs into Sir Thomas Sharpe.

Permanent Taglist for hopelessromanticspoonie: @just-the-hiddles @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @myoxisbroken @brokenthelovely @blah666 (could not be tagged)

Taglist for The Angel’s Share: @rjohnson1280 @alexakeyloveloki @villainousshakespeare

If you would like to be added to either taglist, please comment or send an ask!

Co-written with the ever-amazing @yespolkadotkitty! She’s a rock star!

“You owe me a drink for this. The good stuff, not the bottom of the barrel well booze that you give Frank when he’s three sheets to the wind.”

“Well, maybe it’ll be Crimson Peak, if you give it a good review. Thanks so much, Kate. I can always count on you!” Eddy sang her praises into the phone, punctuating his statement with a cough that sounded more canine than human.

“Please don’t mention it,” she grumbled snarkily, ending the call with her boss, the owner of The Dapper Tap, and sliding her phone into the ridiculously tiny clutch that she had dug out from the recesses of her less-than-tidy closet. She felt almost naked without her standard large black purse slung over her arm, holding all of the essentials and then some, but that wasn’t proper for the launch of a new line of whiskey.

Proper could kiss her arse.

She passed the cabbie a handsome tip as she got out of the cab as gracefully as she could manage. Thankfully the event wasn’t held in the heat of the summer day, and her flowy red dress would provide a bit of a breeze as it brushed against the tops of her knees with each quick step toward the building.

“Name, please?”

Her feet, clad comfortably in black sandals because she was not being paid enough to wear heels, had taken her right up to the entrance to the historic-looking red brick building without her noticing. She startled and lifted her distracted gaze up from where it had been trained on the lush green grass, taking in the attendant standing guard at the entrance. Dressed in a suit that had to be far too hot, he looked about as pleased as she did to be there.

“Katherine Adams, representing ‘The Dapper Tap’,” she stated clearly, brushing her caramel colored hair out of her face as she stifled a sigh.

The young man, he was practically a boy, checked a clipboard he had pulled out from behind his back before waving her through. “You’ll find everything straight on through the hallway and out the other side.”

“Thanks,” she nodded once, skirting past him, noticing he wore an earpiece. This was clearly an event with proper security. 

Whoever had thrown the event, Eddy hadn’t mentioned it amid his coughing fit, had pulled out all the stops. Coming out onto the lawn that had been indicated to her, the spectacle was quite a sight to see. Music from a small band set-up on a wooden stage drifted to her ears, bouncing off of vine-covered walls and only faintly muffled by the guests already in attendance. Small, but tall tables with wrought iron and wood stools were scattered around at regular intervals, offering a place to rest a glass while exchanging handshakes and business cards. The occasional waiter parted the crowd, carrying finger foods to dull the effects of what would most likely be too much whiskey passed around amongst those in attendance.

Best get on with it. Pasting on her best customer-service face - a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes - she thrust herself into the small, obviously curated group of attendees, searching for a familiar face amongst the crowd as she made her way to the bar where the liquor in question was served. She plucked a napkin from one of the various small stacks dotting the bar, glancing quickly at the finely printed script on its soft surface.

Crimson Peak, the finest barrel-aged whiskey produced by the Sharpe estate.

“Straight, please,” she told the waiting bartender, preferring to taste the varying flavors of the alcohol without the diluting effects of ice or mixers, although that would surely help the heat concentrated on the back of her neck from her thick mane of hair.

Cupping the glass and placing a few bills pulled from her bag into the tip jar - as a former bartender, she knew the importance of tipping - she turned around and headed to an empty table, chewing idly on her bottom lip as she slowly inhaled the bouquet of the amber-colored liquid.

It wasn’t unpleasant, with layers of oak and smoke that tickled her nose. Pulling a sip into her berry-stained lips, she allowed her gaze to roam the grounds, searching for the man responsible for the expensive sales pitch in question. His unforgettable face, all high cheekbones, guileless blue eyes and a poet’s mouth, had been plastered over tabloids several times over recent years, his nights spent on the arms of beautiful society girls in the doorways of exclusive clubs in Mayfair and West India Quay serving as pressing news for countless sycophants everywhere.

And then he’d dropped off the face of the World. Or so it had seemed.

Why he had reappeared now, hawking his wares, was anybody’s guess. It wasn’t her prerogative to question the comings and goings of people born with silver spoons in their mouths. She had a living to earn; a life to live. And it didn’t include hobnobbing with the upper classes in venues that cost more than a month’s worth of her wages.

Her mission was simple: meet the man so she could prove to Eddy that she’d showed up, sit through what would surely be a presentation full of hot air (him) and eye rolls (her), take the sample bottle that would probably be offered, and hop in a cab home in time to watch her favourite late-night detective drama before bed. It was rare that she had a Friday night off, and she wasn’t going to squander it staring up the noses of the gaggle of holier-than-thou guests milling about on the lawn, likely talking about croquet and the best way to roast a pheasant in your Aga these days.

There.

Stuck in what was surely a dull conversation with a portly man with the ruddy face of a man who seemed to know his liquor, and a tittering socialite whose smile stretched too wide over her heavily made-up face, stood a fallen angel in a masterfully cut suit.

His midnight-black hair framed his face, a riot of waves and curls that looked soft enough to sink her fingers into. His blue eyes met hers across the expanse of lush green lawn, his irises the striking colour of the ocean at dawn. His sharp features, softened by a mouth made for sweet nothings and sin, could have graced any number of magazines. His tall frame was draped in what was surely Armani, the tailored navy fabric skimming his long limbs, the crisp white shirt flirting with a carefully revealed triangle of his flat chest.

Sir Thomas Sharpe. The socialite’s date of choice some years ago.

His gaze held hers and he glanced down at the ruddy-faced man. “Excuse me. I’ve seen someone I must catch up with.” His beautifully enunciated words carried to her across the stretch between them, and he headed towards her, a friendly smile tipping up the corner of his mouth. Serious, he was handsome, but the smile elevated him into downright stunning.

Shame this was one tall drink of water that she’d never sip from. Even if he had been her type, which he most definitely wasn’t - far too posh - she wasn’t his, her curves a little too pronounced and soft in comparison to the athletic, ultra-toned models he was used to cavorting with about town.

“I owe you one,” he murmured as he approached Kate. “Thanks for saving me from being quite literally bored to death.”

Kate looked up at him, unimpressed. She cocked her head slightly, genuinely curious. “What percentage of the time does that line work? Fifty? As much as seventy, maybe?”

He frowned. “I beg your pardon-”

A glass being clinked over the PA system interrupted whatever he had been about to say. ‘A glorious pearl of wisdom, no doubt’, Kate thought with an internal eye roll.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Please take your seats in the drawing room where Sir Thomas Sharpe will give a short presentation on his single estate whiskey, Crimson Peak.”

“Looks like you’re up, Sir,” she said, her distaste for the title dripping from her words much like the condensation on the outside of the glass she held carefully in front of her. She gave a slight mock bow at the waist, gesturing for him to go ahead of her into the grand stone archway of the - hopefully air-conditioned - building.

“Miss,” he began, in that James-Bond-dipped-in-chocolate voice, but she shook her head. “I truly didn’t-”

“Good talk, GQ. See you in there.”

And she strode away without a second glance, lifting the glass to her lips for a sip. The rush of oak and woodsmoke on her tongue faded away to the dance of an aftertaste, heady, with a hint of sweetness, like a half-remembered song.

Funny, she’d expected it to be awful. Not soulful.

It made her wonder.

[rickygoldman34]

Hello everyone Ricky Goldman here.

Its TNT Ignition: Level Up.

1st match is the VIP match Leon Gray vs Max Brooker. Both men feeling each other out at the beginning but Leon soon took control and tried to put Max away many times to no avail. Max did get back into this and took over as the crowd were split down the middle. Max tried all could to get the win but in the end it was Leon putting Max down for the count of 3. Ok match here.

The 1st match on the main show Big Guns Joe vs Rob Drake and Issac North. Joe issued an open challenge and Rob and Drake answered the call as they beat down and destroyed Joe giving him no chance here. Joe did fight and battle back going after both men here but very quickly got took down again as Issac fed Joe to Rob and he delivered a suplex slamming Joe down for the W.

Next we have Sam Bailey vs MVK. Sam very much in control to begin,the bigger men of the 2 tried to battle back but got put down to the mat just as quickly. MVK got back into it hitting moves like a split legged moonsault and an attitude adjustment but here comes JJ Webb and Danny Proper to beat down MVK awarding him the win by DQ. Tom Thelwell makes the save but hang on he turns on MVK low blowing him and clocking him with JJ's bag,he has joined Manc Union.

Onto the next one which is Scotty Rawk vs Nico Angelo for the ultra x title. It didn't take long for this match to get fast paced but 1st they took it to the ground game then with back and forth action Scotty went diving onto Nico outside the ring. Now the action is took back in and Nico takes it right at the challenger but wait a minute Scotty gains control again and hits a cannonball in the corner but the champion says no and is right back into it. Now Scotty is back up and hits a moonsault followed by a top rope drop kick to no avail. Nico comes off the top rope and hits an RKO followed by a 450 but still couldn't win he then hits a falcon arrow to retain.

For the next match its JJ Webb vs Soner Durson vs Tu Byt vs Chase Alexander vs Jack Bandicoot vs Tate Mayfairs vs Leon Slater in a 15 minute scramble match for the level up briefcase. Soner and Tu go after 3each other and battle into the crowd,Jack takes care of JJ outside the ring,in the ring action continues where Leon gets the 1st pin fall victory. This is my 1st time ever seeing a scramble match live, Leon takes Tate around the crowd so they could chop him. Back in the ring now and its Soner and Tu battling again. Here comes JJ he clocks Soner with his bag and gets a pin then Jack hits a frog splash to pick up a dub but now its Tate with a suplex to Durson gaining a win but Tu taps Tate out and just like that Chase is back in and puts down Tu for a win. 1 minute to go now. Both Leon and Soner high fly,Leon wants that win but ultimately its Tate Mayfairs picking up the final win and the briefcase.

Now to the next match it is Gia Adams vs Lucy Sky. My 1st look at Lucy here,Gia dominated and took control from the early going. Lucy did get back into it though it didn't last long as Gia took over again but just couldn't get the job done. Lucy turns the action around to her advantage once again and puts down and puts away Gia for her win.

And now for the MAIN EVENT we got Shreddy and Jimmy Jackson vs Born Ready (RP Davies and Rick Markus). This is my 1st look at Rick as he tagged in right away and went after Jimmy until Shreddy tags in for his team and RP for his team. Shreddy dominates RP until Jimmy tags back in but Shreddy gets annoyed at Jimmy and actual picks him up to slam him into RP. Shreddy back in and Rick back in,Born Ready hits a 3D to no avail.Jimmy goes up to the top rope and leaps off but is met with a superman punch from RP then he pins Jimmy. Born Ready coming out with the W in this one.

This was a decent show and I give it 5.5 stars out of 10.

Don't forget to add me on Facebook Ricky J Pate,follow me on Twitter @ricktherock30,go and check out WWA world wrestling alliance on Facebook and go to my YouTube channel and like and subscribe to the people's wrestling channel.

Ricky Goldman out.

[ohdeararuninmystocking]

Tags!

Hello everyone! Sorry lol but I’m about to spam you all with the tags I let back up, sorry about that! I REALLY appreciate you all tagging me in things! Here’s my 20 questions tag from @sheonlycaresaboutbands, thanks so much!

Name: Lucy Nicknames: Luce, Lu Age: 19 Gender: Female Orientation: Straight Favorite Color: Mustard yellow, maroon, pink, orange Book Recommendations: omggggg the Mayfair Witch series by Anne Rice, also her first 3 TVC books but then just stop there lol TV Recommendations: King of the Hill! It’s hilarious and down to Earth and mostly realistic lol, also Penny Dreadful Music Recommendations: HIM, Rammstein, Tom Petty, Blue Oyster Cult, Korn, Nightwish, Unheilig Coffee, Tea, or Hot Chocolate: SWEET TEA OR NOTHING except heavily flavored coffee lol Cats or Dogs: DOGS Favorite Meme: I love them all lol but It’s Free Real Estate will always kill me” I Want to Live Long Enough to Witness: HIM getting back together and telling me it was all a joke Weird Obsessions: ugh this cringe show from the 70s called Emergency, and rats Tumblr Birthday: February???? How Many Sideblogs: lol 5. One for funny stuff, one for Korn, one for Ghost Adventures, one for the band Ghost, and one for Lazytown Random fact about Me: I won an autographed Korn poster in a contest last year. It’s an original lineup poster and it has all 5 of the boys and the package came with a separate Issues booklet signed by Fieldy they are my prized possessions. I also have an Abbath autograph. Goals for 2018: Have as much fun in college as I did last year, save money to get a new phone and rats.

Thanks for the tag!!

If you want to, I’ll tag @thebeatlebird @deine-neue-welt @bluesidee @who-is-a-heretic-now <3 <3 <3

[unproduciblesmackdown]

*slaps asks on desk* All twenty five, I believe in you!

thx >:33333c

here’s the ones i haven’t answered yet:

1. Eye color?blue

2. Hair color?brown

3. Favorite color?bright saturated blue that leans slightly blue-green, like a aqua/turquoise/cerulean/azure type area

4. Your current relationship statusthis is a solo production baby!!!!!!!

5. Your relationship with your parentsi disown them

7. Do you ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?i guess sometimes i have but its an anomaly and thats fine w me

8. Do you live with your Mom and Dad?no, thank krampus

9. Who did you last say “I love you” to?a cat

11. Do you like the snow?its nice to look at and im ok with playing around in it for a bit but i dont like winter & when it becomes eternal gritty slush in january/february or packed down road ice its not so good

12. Do you have any siblings? i have a brother 4 yrs younger & a sister 3 yrs older

13. Have you ever gone on a rollercoaster? yes! not often enough! i love them!!

14. Favorite musical instrument? idk a synth

15. Favorite dessert?ice cream

16. Do you swear a lot?yeah fairly often

17. Last thing you ate?pizza

19. Your favorite warm drink & favorite cold drink? hot drinks i like are hot chocolate and like apple cider…cold drinks that are great are lemonade and sweet iced tea and lemonade+sweet iced tea

20. What do you want to dress up as for halloween?idk!! i was just talking abt how one of the things i get actually engaged in is putting together a costume, tho i havent done that often, and we were talking more like cosplays than halloween and i do feel an obligation to be something horror related on halloween. put together arm wings and be a graveyard crow. i could compromise and be daniel of mayfair from amnesia, thats Anyone In A Horror Setting and i already have the outfit save a lantern

21. A song that’s been stuck in your head:god there’s been a handful lately…wndrwll, digital love, and super friends have been a few of the ones of the past like 24 hrs

22. When was the last time someone complimented you & what was it?uhhh indirectly i guess but just now i got a few tag-comments on some of my art!! and people enjoying it feels like a compliment to me. like if someone is appreciating my providing of content or zestiness, i feel flattered, which has just now happened

23. Did you wake up cranky?i pretty much always do but not always in a lasting way, today wasnt very lasting

25. Are you a morning bird or a night owl?god so much a night owl 🦉