#SOMEONE HAD TO

[plantsjustwannahavefun]

I still can’t get over that we got to see this.

GIFs taken from https://www.tumblr.com/flowergrenades/724087820292112384/oh-yes-its-working

The moment he broke into that smile, my first thought was how much he looks like the Doctor here. Because Crowley doesn’t smile like that. We’ve never seen him smile like that: with such pure, radiant, uninhibited joy and awe. Not as himself. The first scene of this season was so impactful because we saw what Crowley was like as an angel, just how adorable and pure he was, full of overflowing love and affection for all of creation… and how much of a contrast it was to Crowley as a demon – jaded, weary, guarded, hiding behind his dark glasses and a grumpy, sardonic demeanour.

But this smile. It’s dazzling. There’s not a trace of irony or snark or sneering amusement, nothing of the sort. He’s just happy. Yes, it’s one of those “pictures taken seconds before a disaster” moments, but he doesn’t know it yet. Right now, he’s watching two humans about to fall in love. Knowing it was him who made it happen. Him, a demon, putting just a little bit more love into this world. And this makes him so happy.

Everything about the way this shot is framed is so intimate, and vulnerable, and powerful. He’s resting his forehead against the window, with his glasses off, and his face is right in front of us, the viewers. It almost feels like intruding on a private moment… because it is. He’s only smiling like that because no one’s looking at him. He wouldn’t do it in front of anyone else. Not even Aziraphale, I think.

But imagine if Aziraphale had been there to see it. He would have perished and discorporated on the spot. He’d have fallen in love with him right there and then, if he hadn’t already fallen in love with him many times over.

I don’t give a fuck if they kiss in S3, I can take it or leave it. The only thing I want is for Crowley to smile at his angel like that. And for Aziraphale to see it.

[vanity-breaking]

love this guy. big fan of this guy

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

Bad Batch Season 3 Episode 5 spoiler without context

[amyante]

[itsstilltru]

TACTICAL STRAHM

[tyblackthornfrog]

eurovision 2024 songs i think the tsc characters would listen to:

The Code - Thomas and Anna Lightwood

Pedestal - Dru Blackthorn

La noia - Izzy Lightwood

NO RULES - Kit and Jace Herondale

Zorra - Cristina Rosales

Teresa & Maria - Clary Fairchild, Tessa Gray

Rim Tim Tagi Dim - Will Herondale and Matthew Fairchild

Doomsday Blue - Ash Morgernstern (and Dru)

Luktelk - Ty Blackthorn

Dizzy - Magnus Bane

We Will Rave - Emma Carstairs

Firefighter - Cordelia Carstairs

Veronika - Grace Blackthorn

[transmothofaman]

Chapters: 2/7 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Batfamily Members & Batfamily Members (DCU) Characters: Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical Bruce Wayne's stubborness, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of death and drug use (canon typical), Time Travel, Not that they know it yet, reverse! Bruce goes back in time and tries to speedrun the batfamily, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, no beta we die like most of the batfamily do at some point Summary:

“Why us? Why not any other Gothamite who needs help in this godforsaken city?” “I must confess, that is an excellent question, Mister Jason. I have looked into each child Master Wayne has brought in these past couple of years, and there seems to be no commonality between them. I haven’t the faintest idea what’s brought all of you along.”

-- a.k.a one of those Bruce goes back in time and gets his kids together fics, but told from the perspective of his kids just trying to live their lives.

Welp, here it is folks. My apologies for the delay without much to offer for it, but the ball is rolling on this fic! I have no beta reader so any comments and suggestions are very much accepted!

Those who wanted to be tagged:

@keep-calm-and-ginger-on

@ghostenluvs

@fuzzypicklecloudnickel

@scarlette-foxx

@valkerymillenia

@areyouthorreal

@writing5ever

@tenderboar

@xenazaria

@existentialgaybirdnerd

(I am so sorry if your tag didn’t work Tumblr is being weird)

[becausethathappens]

🗣 PRIMAL NOISES 🚿

[lezarus]

bloodsport | loustat

youtube

[tearfulangel]

can’t stop thinking about certified lover boy? certified pedophiles! and also you’re tryna strike a chord and it's probably A-minor

[trinityofone]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who & Related Fandoms Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fifteenth Doctor/Fourteenth Doctor (Doctor Who) Characters: Fourteenth Doctor (Doctor Who), Fifteenth Doctor (Doctor Who), Donna Noble, Rose Noble (Doctor Who: The Star Beast), Shaun Temple Additional Tags: Post-Episode: 2023 Special 03: The Giggle (Doctor Who), Self-Discovery, (lol), Dating, Masturbation, Frottage Summary:

“I think I’m just…out of practice,” the Doctor admitted.

“Then find someone who makes you feel safe,” Rose said, “to practice with.”

[sophfandoms53]

Welcome to The Owl House where Friendship is the Real Magic

[deluxewhump]

The Scry: chapter II

CW: not a lot. tentative reassurance and comfort. building trust. series warnings for human trafficking, whumpee with exploited powers.

He decided he’d rather bring this Carlo boy home with him than leave him in the building overnight.

It wasn’t just that Ingrid asked to see him. It was a new and sudden sense of responsibility, even if its contours were rough and undefined. All day he felt a tug between the professional aloofness he usually liked to maintain at work and the desire to be a source of comfort for the precog boy they’d given him.

He was clearly abused before. By whom, for how long, and in what ways was not clear. The fact he was so concerned if this business was a fully legal venture or not made Max think for sure he was one of the repossessed precognitives that had been used in day trading and investments, or even the less subtle art of ripping off casinos and lotteries. Who needs risk management when you can see the future?

Which is exactly how he was supposed to use the poor thing, except with the green light from the United States government.

…At least for now. Carlo didn’t belong to him (the thought was jarring anyway, now that he saw the precogs were flesh and blood). He belonged to Spartan, and only because recent legislation had made it possible. It could always go the other way. Spartan could decide they weren’t worth it, sell them to another company. Or the winds could change in Washington (or the state of Maryland? He didn’t know. His mother would know), and the feds could demand the precogs back.

Five o’clock came. He knew it without checking the clock by the shadows on the office wall. The sun dipped behind the neighboring buildings, winter-orange rays cut by symmetrical blocks. He heard people talking in the hallway on the way to the elevators.

Carlo was curled in the armchair by the floor to ceiling window, dozing. He startled awake at the footsteps outside the door, confused for a moment as to where he was. He looked at Max and Max smiled gently to put him at ease.

“Hey.”

Carlo yawned sleepily, trying to stifle it.

“I’m gonna head out in a few minutes. You wanna come with me or stay here?”

Carlo looked at him closely, a quick up and down as if seeing him for the first time.

“My girlfriend is at home,” Max said as he began to gather his things, powering off his computer. “We can make some dinner. Probably watch some TV. She likes these really trashy shows, reality shows and competitions and whatnot. Honestly, I’m really into the one we just started. It’s like the reality show version of Clue. I’ve got a spare bedroom. We can make it up nice and warm for you.”

Carlo watched him slip his laptop into his briefcase. He felt like he was coaxing a wild animal out of a thicket.

“Or you can stay here. They have a spot for you downstairs I guess. I haven’t seen it. I imagine it’s like a dorm or a barrack situation. Who knows, maybe they went all out and it’s the Four Seasons down there.”

Does this kid know what the hell you’re talking about?

He busied himself by checking his smartwatch. It was a weird for him, saying this kind of stuff to this boy he’d just met, handed off to him so absurdly.

“The things I said to you this morning… all that still stands if you come home with me. I’m not gonna hurt you. It’s safe. I promise.”

—

Ingrid was way ahead of him. By the time they got home she’d been home for an hour and started dinner. There was a load of laundry in the wash, and she was talking to her mother on the phone. She saw them in the doorway and blurted a quick gotta go before hanging up.

She only stared for a second, to give her credit. He had too, when Cissy first dropped him off.

“I really don’t know what I was expecting,” she said when he was upstairs. “But it wasn’t that.”

She treated him like a guest, but there was a reservation behind her smile, the same as Cecelia had. It was in the eyes. Carlo held out a hand for her when they met, and she took it gently, giving it a little dip more than a shake. For some reason it made Max’s heart ache to watch.

When dinner was done and cleaned up, they sat on the couch to watch Ingrid’s new reality show. He and Ingrid both thought the best way to go about it was just to continue their normal routine and add him in, not make a big deal out of it.

Carlo was in the wingback chair next to them, his feet tucked underneath him and a blanket tucked up close. He was always cold, Max noticed. When they’d left the office the December wind had seemed to physically pain him, and he had trouble warming up, even inside.

Ingrid lifted her head from Max’s lap, shifting upright into a cross legged position. “Carlo?” She asked. “Can you… can you see your own future?”

Max’s head snapped away from the TV. She was always telling him he was too blunt, too pragmatic and state-your-purpose. And yet he hadn’t dared ask the poor thing something like that yet.

Carlo looked at Ingrid with those big doe eyes of his, bruises like shadows on his face. “No ma���am,” he whispered. Max read his lips more than actually heard him. He cleared his throat. “Sometimes it happens, but it’s not good.”

Max could understand her curiosity. They didn’t know anything about these things. There was almost nothing on the internet. It’s like they’d been kept in Area 51.

“Why isn’t it good?” she asked cautiously. Her copper-red hair was pulled into a bun, her eyeliner smudged from laying on a pillow over Max’s lap.

“It’ll hurt me,” he shrugged, like that was something not entirely unexpected. “It’s not supposed to be used for that. It’s against the code of conduct.”

Ingrid’s eyebrows knit for a millisecond before she relaxed her face again, cool neutral. “Whose code of conduct?”

Max pinched her calf where Carlo couldn’t see. Her knee twitched towards him a centimeter, but she didn’t bat an eye in acknowledgment.

Carlo looked from Ingrid to him, unsure if he should say. A commercial for dish soap ended and their show came back on, the cliffhanger middle of a reality show challenge.

“Hey,” she said, picking the remote off Maxs thigh and turning up the volume on the tv. “Shelly’s gonna win this one again, look at her.”

—

He brought Carlo extra blankets from the linen closet. One was an old family quilt, hand sewn by his great grandmother or something, he couldn’t remember exactly, but his mother always mentioned it.

The spare room was a little dusty, and there were some cardboard boxes in one corner— things of his fathers he hadn’t gone through yet. His parents divorced when he was in college. It had been coming for a decade, the spaces between sentences and looks growing wider by the year until they were more like roommates, strangers with a grown child who shared their DNA.

His father lived out in Phoenix now. He had a girlfriend Max and Ingrid’s age. His mother lived downtown, closer to the true love of her life, the law practice she and her business partner ran. Sometimes, even now, he would feel a twinge of annoyance at his mothers seemingly bottomless devotion to her practice.

She’s like one of those German Shepherds that carries rocks around in its mouth til it bleeds, he’d said to Ingrid in a particularly ungenerous moment. She’d been too kind to point out it was maybe a twinge of jealousy, but he felt it in her sympathetic little downturned mouth.

That possibility was too immature and borderline Oedipal for him to want to contemplate. After the divorce finalized, he inherited the old family Victorian at twenty four, and had lived in it these seven years since until it felt like his house and no longer his parents’.

Carlo got gingerly into the single bed, made up with fresh sheets earlier in the afternoon by Ingrid.

Max laid the heavy extra quilt at his feet. “It's a little chilly upstairs at night,” he admitted. “Can I get you some socks or something?”

“I’m okay,” Carlo said politely. Max went to the dresser anyway, pulling out a thick pair of socks folded into a ball.

“Just in case,” he said, and set them on the bedside table.

“Max?”

He paused in the doorway.

“Are we going to start tomorrow?”

Something in the tender innocence of the question stung. He couldn’t tell if it had been asked out of fear or curiosity, though he sensed both on the boy almost constantly.

“Yeah,” he answered truthfully. “We should take a shot at it, if you’re ready.”

“Okay.”

“You think you can get some sleep?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Just let him keep doing it, if that’s what he wants to call you. Maybe it’s a way to keep it professional, keep some distance. Let him have that.

“We’re right down the hall if you need us. Ok? Anything at all.”

In the dark of his bedroom, Ingrid turned to him restlessly. He could feel her eyes on him, the blue glow of the digital clock just enough to see the outline of her shoulder.

“I’m sorry I asked him that.”

“It’s fine.”

Ingrid could be impulsive, but her regret and introspection later was always twofold. She’d drink a few glasses of wine at dinner with their friends and worry for a week she’d been too candid, laughed too loud. She thought she’d been accidentally rude to their waiter once and asked Max to turn the truck around so she could go back and explain her mistake. He didn’t turn the truck around, of course. He told her she was way in her own head, to learn to let it go.

He felt for her arm in the dark, followed it down to her hand and held it loosely. She turned her palm up to reciprocate.

“I wonder, too,” he told her. “I wanna know who hurt him like that, for one. And the elephant in the room— could he see our futures, if he tried?”

“I don’t think I wanna know my future.”

“Me either. And if you do know it, could you inadvertently change it? Is it set in stone? Does him having precognitive sight mean free will is an illusion after all?”

Ingrid groaned. Both as a lapsed Baptist and devout atheist, she didn’t like that.

“Sorry, kid,” he grinned in the dark. “We don’t need to worry about free will before bed.”

“Tell me how it goes tomorrow. I don’t wanna know my own future, but I wanna know what he can do. What it’s like.”

“I will,” he promised, squeezing her cool hand. “I’ll tell you all about it.”

Scry taglist;

@whumpsday @distinctlywhumpthing @pumpkin-spice-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

[hhuta]

[rainbowkittyblossomwings]

Someone needed to make this, so I had to. (I almost put the rockers in as the yaoi couple but Kotaro had too many good poses!!! It's not my fault!!!)

The reason Yugiri and Kiichi are the "regular couple" is because they are the only couple that could be close to normal and also show up in the same frame although I considered others. (shout out to Lily's parents who I kept getting distracted by the size difference of)