#and gabriel has moments where hes just. like that

[little-tangerines]

kids are generally weird and religious kids are just plain scary honestly

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[xxplastic-cubexx]

just read the original trial of magneto issue and Lilandra butting in on Charles and Erik's tragic dying bromance vows is halariously abrupt. these two old men are romantically staring in each others eyes and then a bird woman flashes down out of no where to say son't worry he'll be fine in an hour and then leaves

they may as well have just started makin out i think i woulda burst a blood vessel

[piratebay]

well that was it.

the end of one of the most cursed american soap operas.

i'm glad i didn't watch it end live. that would have let it have some sort of justice. giving it time to breathe allowed me to finish late what i had started late.

it somehow took me almost as long to watch it all as it did to actually air.

it has now been fortified for me that they actually did that. the writers actually took the show out back and shot it, just as easily as these characters "killed off monsters".

it took fifteen years to end in pretty much the exact same place as it started.

glib.

[commsroom]

on one hand, it's kinda unfortunate that the very first time hera ever says minkowski's name in the show she mispronounces it the way eiffel does, and it's obviously one of those early series growing pains type things. however. on the other hand. it exists in the show and in-universe it becomes one of those "spending too much time with eiffel" things instead. he got in her head. after being the primary person she's been speaking to for hundreds of days by that point, something like that was bound to happen eventually.

[pastryfication]

Can you pls do an Oscar x reader fic where the reader has pots or just faints a lot and she was with lando when she fainted and he gets rlly concerned xx 🩷

a helping hand

pairings: oscar piastri x reader, platonic!lando norris x reader. content warnings: mentions of fainting, reason why not specified. note: i feel like lando is a really good friend and i hope this mirrors that!! i wrote this while watching the f3 race and i feel so bad for gabriele :(

you knew the exact feeling that entered your body when you were just about to faint. it was as if you lost control of your body, as if a thick blanket laid itself over all your senses. everything blurred and small dots appeared in your vision.

and because you knew exactly when something about to happen, you also managed to always alert the people around you.

your friends and family knew exactly what to do when you pulled their sleeve and told them you were feeling dizzy. they would help you sit down immediately and let you lean on them as the world disappeared, and would hold you until you again came to your senses. it was a foolproof routine you had created, and it had worked for years, making sure nothing bad had the opportunity to happen.

but sometimes, the routine was ruined. that happened when you weren’t around any of the people who usually helped you.

and that was exactly what happened when you in that moment reached for lando’s arm.

the two of you were standing in the mclaren hospitality, chatting away about your summers as you waited for oscar to come back from some media duties.

you felt the feeling enter your body while lando was in the middle of an enthusiastic retelling of a party he had attended, and at first, you ignored it. a lot of times, it was a false alarm, and you didn’t want to worry the older mclaren driver if nothing was happening.

but when the feeling wasn’t going away, when it only intensified, you reached out to hold onto his shoulder, trying to steady yourself.

“lan,” you interrupted him, and he immediately frowned, a concerned look filling his eyes.

“whoa, shit, are you alright?” his arms came around to support you.

you opened your mouth to answer him, to warn him about what was about to happen, but you didn’t have time before the entire world went black and your body went slack, crumbling to the floor like marionette who’s strings had all been cut.

lando immediately caught you in his arms, gently lowering your still body to lay on the floor as he looked around for help. some people had stopped in their tracks to look at the scene but no one came closer.

“why are you just staring?! someone get oscar!” his voice came out an octave higher than usual, and people immediately stating scrambling away, some in the direction of oscar, some just as far away as they could get.

panic was still gripping at lando, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. his fast-beating heart came back to a normal pace, and as he slowly came back to a feeling of levelheadedness, he started looking around for a place move you, somewhere you wouldn’t get ogled at by all the people rushing around you.

he thought for only a moment before he felt something shifting in his arms and he looked down to find you blinking up at him.

“lan?” your voice was shaky as a lingering fatigue started to envelope you.

you blinked a couple of times to try to steady yourself, slowly feeling your senses coming back. “can you— can we go to oscar’s room?” your voice still felt small, like it wasn’t exactly your own, and you felt vulnerable sitting in the middle of the hospitality. you wanted to get away.

“yeah, of course!” lando was immediately on his feet, eager to do something to help you. “can you walk? or do you want me to carry you?”

you smiled at his words but shook your head slightly. “i think i can walk.”

he nodded in reply, helping you to your feet and placing an arm around your shoulder as you started walking towards the room oscar had been designated for the weekend.

the two of you were nearly halfway there when a deeply frowning oscar came into view.

“love, hey.” he was at your side immediately, replacing lando in holding you up. “are you alright?”

you nodded. “yeah, i think i’m alright now. lando helped.”

oscar sighed in relief, leaning down to press a kiss to your head before sending a grateful look to lando who was still lingering next to you, clearly still shaken up and filled with a protective feeling towards his teammates girlfriend. a person who had grown to become one of his great friends.

“thank you.”

lando only smiled in reply, nodding his head as he slowly started retreating. “anytime. hope you’re alright now.” his eyes lingered and he leaned down give you a half hug, searching your face for any discomfort before finally taking a deep breath. you were alright and he had helped you reach that point.

a small feeling of proudness bloomed in his chest as he watched oscar lead you the last way into his driver’s room. he had helped you.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Since you've mentioned Scarlet Lady in one of your posts, what's your opinion on it?

I've mentioned before that I'm a big Scarlet Lady fan, which is the only reason that I'm comfortable answering asks like this one. I don't publicly criticize the content of hobby creators. That's wildly inappropriate! Punch up, not down.

The linked post was a general discussion of the adaptation process and how @zoe-oneesama did a fantastic job, so for this one, I'm just going to do some general gushing because I do actually like praising and enjoying things!

Scarlet Lady's chosen format (comic) allows it to have this wonderful conversation with canon where it can rely on the framework of canon to tell it's own story while also using canon for jokes and meta commentary. This means that Scarlet Lady is about as close as fan content can get to a direct reboot because it's able to have moments like this one from the comic's first post:

[Image description: Adrien standing in his room after transforming into Chat Noir for the first time. He is beaming and his eyes are shining with excitement as he exclaims, "This is gonna be awesome!"]

A single picture that communicates everything we need to know about Adrien getting his miraculous. When I've done this same thing in fanfic, I had to write out the full scene because that's how novels work. You have to give the full picture. With a comic, you can just quickly acknowledge this thing that we all already know and then move on to the new stuff. A picture really is worth a thousand words! (Or, in my case, more like two thousand...)

This allows Zoe to keep the same akumas that we get in canon without her story feeling like a boring rehash because she can focus on what's different in her version. A novelization of the same content would have to show both the stuff that stays the same and the stuff that changes for it to be coherent. That's a lot less fun to read and write. It's why I basically never revisit canon akumas in my own stuff. It's just too derivative for the written word.

This is one of the big reasons that I loved Scarlet Lady. Because it was able to have that more directly conversation with canon, it was able to take canon and say, "hey, why don't we embrace the tone that you established in season one and retell the story with that vibe?" That's something that I desperately wanted to see, but that is totally unsuited to my chosen artistic form. It couldn't be a novel. It had to be a comic.

If you want to know what a true formula show version of Miraculous would look like, Scarlet Lady is it. It does everything that Miraculous should have done:

Sticks to a lighthearted tone where nothing is ever super serious

Keeps Gabriel entirely unsympathetic

Has slow character development and background hints at a bigger plot as the only serial elements, allowing the individual episodes to be their own story while never feeling incomplete or rushed

Allows characters other than Marinette to shine while keeping Marinette as the clear main character

Makes Adrien narratively important

MAKES THE LOVE SQUARE CUTE SO I CAN ACTUALLY SHIP IT

Understands that Lila and Chloe can't coexist as antagonists

Reverses the love square, which is the best way to tell their story. Yes, I will die on my "love diamond" hill. It's a good hill. Come join me. I'll bring cookies.

I could keep going, but you hopefully get my point. While Scarlet Lady is certainly not the only way to do a formula version of canon, it's proof that a formula version does work! You don't have to go the serious route for Miraculous to be successful.

I want to take some time to gush about the ending, but I don't want to spoil it, so I'll put that gushing under a "read more" in case anyone hasn't seen it. I'll finish out this less spoilerish section with this:

I feel like some people are surprised when they learn that I love Scarlet Lady because - as some of you have probably picked up - it is quite different from my ideal version of canon. I'm not sure why that would stop me from enjoying a thing, though. It's important to remember that our personal ideals are not the only way to tell a good story. There are lots of ways to take what canon gave us and make something wonderful! It's part of the reason that I enjoy being in a fandom.

If I only wanted to see my ideal take on canon, then I'd stick to writing/imagining my own stories. But I don't want that! I like seeing alternate takes, too. Scarlet Lady is one of my personal favorites. It's completely different from anything that I'd ever think to write and that's why I'm so glad that it exists! I like being entertained just as much as I like creating my own entertainment and I don't want to only read stories that look like something I'd write. That's boring!

Spoilers below:

I've mentioned before that there are many, many ways to properly handle Chloe's character and Zoe did such a good job with her take on that! Chloe isn't absolved of all the things she did wrong, but she's also treated as a young woman with the ability to change.

While the comic bares the name of Chloe's alter ego, she was the never the main character. She never went on a journey. The story kept her to her shallow season-one self: a petty brat who just wanted attention. It did this because that's who Chloe was in canon and who Chloe needed to be for the comic to work.

The first time we see any complexity from Chloe is in the comic's final few episodes, which was absolutely the right call for Zoe to make! In a recent post, I talked about how the end of a formula show is the only time when you can break the formula in catastrophic ways and that's what Zoe did. She kept Chloe static until it was time to end the story and that's when the formula breaks. That's when Chloe gets depth because, once she has depth, the formula doesn't work.

That depth is not used to redeem Chloe, but to show us that there's hope for Chloe. That this petty brat who we've been dealing with has some serious issues and needs help. Help that she's going to get far away from the people that she's hurt because her issues aren't an excuse for what she's done. They don't erase the harm that she caused. At the same time, understanding her issues makes us hope that she can be better now and Scarlet Lady took a moment to give us that hope. To show us the START of Chloe's true story.

That is the kind of ending that I have wanted to see in so many properties!!! It was so wonderful to finally get one that did this right. A story that understood that full redemption to the team and damnation to death/suffering are extremes on a scale of possibilities. You don't have to go to extremes! You can fall in the middle and the middle is a perfect, natural place for Chloe to land in this kind of story. Fully redeeming or even fully damning Chloe simply doesn't work in lighthearted formula content. It's too big a lift as canon has already demonstrated.

I also loved Zoe's take on Emilie. I've mentioned that I don't like evil Emilie in part because it makes her revival feel like the start of a new story. She's back and she'd bad, so we have to take her down now! But I don't want that. I want the story to end when Gabriel is stopped. Zoe does this by giving us an Emilie that is another perfect middle ground. She matches canon's uncomfortable implications without feeling like a true villain who is a threat to society.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Peter Anderson: Hi, my name is Peter Anderson. I'm from Peter Anderson Studio and we created the title sequence to Good Omens Season Two. So this scene is quite literally a continuation from Season One.

An interesting detail with this scene is the fly. The fly is significant because it stores Gabriel's memory.

Gabriel is hidden in every scene. This is the first time we see it.

This goat is half bird, half goat, representing a mistake in a moment of transformation.

In the pickled herring barrel, we have literally red herrings sticking out.

A lot of the gravestones have hidden engravings, easter eggs, all written by Neil.

[This one says: HERE LIES THE FORMER SHELL OF BEELZEBUB referncing Beelzebub having a new face in S2 :), another ones are: EVERYDAY, JANE AUSTEN, Here lies ADAM (the Adam from Adam and Eve is meant)]

Another hidden Gabriel.

Our same character that was trying to escape Hell in Season One titles is also trying to escape here, moving in the opposite direction to the rest of the procession. Except this time he's apprehended and dragged back into the procession.

Our Hell spider from episode four makes a little appearance in the background here.

Can you tell where the bus is going? Director Douglas McKinnon selected Powell and Pressburger's Stairway to Heaven to put on the billboard.

Another thing to note here is the type is all handmade specifically for Good Omens. The Alphabet only exists within the show.

The big floating turnip is a nod to Azirafel's magic tricks.

The Ladies of Camelot poster we pulled from the show.

We added plaques to the back of the chairs and Neil chose who to honour.

[There are: A TALE OF TWO CITIES by CHARLES DICKENS, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE by JANE AUSTEN, THE CROW ROAD by IAIN BANKS (twice!) and GOOD OMENS by TERRY PRATCHETT (Neil missing for some reason :) <3)]

Saraqael made an appearance from Heaven.

Our Space is back from Season One. Aziraphale and Crowley are having a little dance here. A moment of flirtation. There's a tiny planet in the middle that comes into existence at this moment.

Our Scottish tartan hills make an appearance here.

The aeroplane and the airline is a little bit of a clue here.

[THY KINGDOM AIRWAYS 👀]

It's raining love hearts in reference to Aziraphale's attempt at making Maggie and Nina fall in love.

Here are elevators to Heaven and Hell. A wee thing to spot. Here is Gabriel in the lift arriving from Heaven.

We've updated our flags to reference some of the plotlines in Season Two. For example, The Second Coming.

The movie poster artwork changes every week, representing the episode plotlines and the minisodes. We made the posters to look like the time period and in this case we've got a Good Omens version of Buddy Holly.

[The posters are:]

In the snack bar some of our popcorn is actually communion wafers.

There are specific characters from Season One in the boxes watching the movie as the procession goes by. This includes some of our original concept art from Season One.

The duck playing the accordion is from a newspaper headline that someone is reading in The Dirty Donkey from one of the episodes.

[this is also from the Good Omens book :): "Daily Mail. 'Letter From America.' Um, August the third," said Newt. "Just after the story about the woman in Worms, Nebraska, who taught her duck to play the accordion."]

Each episode is showing a new movie on the screen, each one selected by Douglas, and has clues about what's to come.

The season one phone box tumbles in the background.

The big mountain is made of all the ingredients from Season Two and a couple of remnants from Season One. We are heading towards the biggest Easter Egg, which is the lift. We're heading towards the Second Coming..

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Neil.

I'm not sure if this context was planned for Crowley to hide his emotions behind his glasses, but many see it that way, in any case, whether it is true or not, is there a scene planned in season 3 where Aziraphale removes them from Crowley?

I think this would be a rather intimate moment for them, like the song for Beelzebub and Gabriel

No, the plan for season 3 is for Crowley to have left his glasses at home and to send his wife to get them for him. Meanwhile Aziraphale will realize that he loaned Crowley his best tie and that Crowley has gone home with it, and sends his wife to go and get it. Sadie is just going through Crowley's jacket pockets when Dottie arrives. Sadie hides in the closet -- not knowing that Gus the Gorgeous Gorilla has chosen that closet to go to sleep in. When Dottie hides in the closet as well things get complicated for the two women, with hilarious consequences.

[pinkgy]

hii! if you’re taking requests may i request the kings reaction (+ bael & bimet if its okay) reaction to mc in her sleep pulling them into her grasp and face planting them in her boobs (i think it would be funny like they were just checking on mc and get pulled in😭)

Hi ! Thank you so much for requesting !!

Ahh I love this scenario! And the character choice is 🤌🤌🤌

I had no idea if this request was meant to be smut, fluff, angst, or crack, so I mixed all of them, I hope it's okay, and soooo sorry for the delay :(

"𝙄 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙇𝘿 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙔 𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙍"

CW: Reader has boobs but I tried my best to not specify the size, Belphegor's is a bit shorter because let's be real he would fall asleep the moment he touches a bed, Bael's is also shorter because my draft of him got deleted 4 times, somnophilia and by defect Dubcon in Beelzebub's, Satan's got emotional somehow, the only one who actually got a bit smutty was Beel's, the rest (some of them) are just suggestive, kinda OOC Leviathan (?) it's hard to write fluff for someone as dense as him.

𝙎𝘼𝙏𝘼𝙉

Satan loved sleeping with you. Both hands weren't enough to count the reasons why. The main one had to be that when he was lying in your arms (or you were lying on his, depending on his mood), he felt like nothing could go wrong. He felt all his worries disappear, and just that small moment between him and you was simply perfect.

One day, while walking out of a meeting, he felt as if he hadn't seen you for a while, so he made his way to your room. Once there, he found you peacefully sleeping—how cute!

BUT, what if you weren't sleeping? What if you passed out? Maybe an angel attacked you and set up your body so it would seem like you were just asleep, or what if Gabriel kidnapped you and set up a lookalike of you or a doll that looks like you to confuse those who walked into your room.

Overthinking took over Satan so he rushed to your bed to check on you, and once he got in your bed and got close to you he suddenly felt your arms wrapping around his neck and pushing his face.

He just remained there, dumbfounded, still processing what just happened, sure he knew you were quite naughty, but so naughty to a point where your sleeping self yearned for him? That was a surprise, a very satisfactory surprise.

Satan lay down with you and hugged you tightly without caring much if he woke you up or not if you had put him in such a suggestive situation it was because you wanted “Something more” But once he felt both your bodies cuddling, your soft hands tangled in his hair, your arms hugging his face endearingly and the comfortable warmth surrounding his face coming from your soft chest, Satan wanted to stay here forever, fuck the angels and fuck the war, this was all he needed in his life.

He felt Gabriel’s brand on your chest pressing against his forehead, it was mocking him, reminding him that he could take you away from him at any moment if that were to happen, Satan had no idea how could he move on, that’s why he treasured moments like this so much, he’s confident about his power and his abilities at protecting you, but one part of him was genuinely scared about the future.

He just wishes time froze and this moment could last forever.

𝙈𝘼𝙈𝙈𝙊𝙉

Satan arranged a super urgent meeting between the two kings that he described as a “Life or death type of urgency”, but that was the secondary reason he went to Gehenna that day, the main one was to visit you, and since the king of that land refused to let anyone kidnap you, Mammon had to settle for sporadic visits until he had a defined plan to steal you away from Satan.

Once his meeting was over, he went straight to your room, at first he knocked, but once he received no response he just entered, once inside he saw your little body wrapped in the sheets, he began to walk slowly trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake you up, and as soon as he was close to you he brought his face closer to yours to observe you more closely, Mammon thought you couldn't look any cuter until he saw you right now.

He may have let his guard down a little too much, because suddenly one of your hands grabbed his horn and the other grabbed his head, and somehow, you planted his head between your breasts.

He stands proud as an ass guy, but who is he to complain, and if it’s your will to keep him in your arms while you sleep, or more specifically, in your chest, then he must obey his master, so as carefully as possible, he places his heavy body beside yours and places his hands directly on his target, your ass.

He would’ve loved to have let his hands explore your body more, in fact, if he wanted to, he would have done it, but Mammon does not dare to break into his master’s dream, your life in hell is stressful enough, that you deserve to rest, and he’s honored that you’re allowing him to be with you at this time, and as long as he’s here with you, no angel would success in trying to attack you.

Mammon hopes that neither of you wakes up to Satan shouting and attempting to murder him when he sees the scene of both of you sleeping together, however, any punch or kick that he may receive will be worth it as long as he continues to enjoy this moment between the two of you.

𝙇𝙀𝙑𝙄𝘼𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙉

He's not a huge fan of sleeping with you, or anyone, but as long as you weren't sharing a bed with somebody else, it was fine for him.

It was a peaceful noon at Hades, way too peaceful, unusually peaceful if he had to admit, something must be wrong, where are you by the way? Where were his nobles?

Casually, Leviathan happened to pass in front of your room, that moment, he stood there and he felt uneasy, it was too much of a coincidence that neither you nor his nobles were around, he opened your door with a bang and entered your room, he started looking desperately, he searched in every corner, opened every cabinet and even checked if Foras turned invisible and hid somewhere.

Then he noticed your sleeping self that by miracle didn’t wake up by the bang of your door and the amount of noise he made while rummaging around your room, that’s when he remembered, he hadn’t checked your bed to see if there was anyone’s unpleasant presence.

That's when it happened, when Leviathan got close to you to lift the bedsheets off your body, in an instant and taking him off guard, you grabbed his head with your arms and planted his face in your chest.

In the beginning Leviathan got mad, how you dare treat him with such rudeness, what’s wrong with you? But then he smelled you, no disgusting smell of any other nasty devil was on you aside from his, he sighed in relief, well, now that his job is done he must go, he had lots of things to do anyways and cuddle time with you wasn’t one of them.

Without caring much if you woke up or not he tried to pull away from you, tried, for a human you had a pretty strong grip he thought, and it didn’t help that your sleeping self gently kissed the top of his head as you snuggled up in his hair, that little act caused things in him, maybe Leviathan was completely unaccustomed to receiving this kind of gestures, so he felt quite weird, and if he was honest, maybe even a little bit good.

Hesitantly, Leviathan got comfortable in your bed and awkwardly held your body between his arms, if he stayed with you right now none of his nobles would dare to enter your room, yeah, that was the reason why he was in your room right now, with both your bodies curled in the bed, his face buried in the pillowy surface of your chest and your hearts beating in unison.

How long has it been since he’s been so at ease in his life? Probably never, and for the first time in god knows how many years, he fell asleep out of the comfort of his coffin, but in a newfound comfort, you.

𝘽𝙀𝙀𝙇𝙕𝙀𝘽𝙐𝘽

Beelzebub has been away for some weeks now, and the first thing he wanted to do was to spend time with you, in fact, he only returned because of that, but to his surprise, when he broke into your room in Gehenna from the window, you were passed out in your bed, how cute.

He not so carefully sat at the side of the bed you were facing and stared at you for minutes, you really looked cute when you were asleep, he swears he just wanted to get a little sniff of your natural scent, but with a tight grip around his neck that for a second caught him off-guard you pulled him to the bed with you, or more specifically, to his favorite place on hell right after between your legs, your chest.

Could he easily get away from your embrace? Yes. Was he going to try? Nah.

Beelzebub would die a happy man suffocated in your chest, and also, this was a great way to get away from Bael, he wasn’t going to enter your room without your permission, right? And also, a little nap with you doesn’t sound bad, who knows what can happen once you wake up, or when you're still in your sleep.

And that's how he ended up getting comfortable beside you, with his head still face planted between your boobs, his legs tangled with yours and a firm thigh pressing against your crotch.

Bold of you to assume Beelzebub isn’t going to try to get his hands on you, in those weeks without you he couldn’t get you out of his head, so as soon as he gets settled in your bed, he takes a deep sniff of your delicious skin and slips his hands under your shorts and places them on your butt gripping it roughly and almost waking you up, almost.

Because once he saw that you were still asleep, he left his hands to wander under your shorts, and before you could do something about it you woke up to Beelzebub with two fingers buried deep inside you and your whole chest covered in hickeys and bite marks, and most importantly, Beel’s mouth vigorously sucking on your sore nipples.

A long night awaits you because he’s not getting out of your bed until he gets a taste of you, or until Satan realizes that he broke in.

𝙇𝙐𝘾𝙄𝙁𝙀𝙍

He would rather die than admit it, but Lucifer had a habit of watching you sleep. He would wait for you to fall asleep every night to sneak into your room just to observe you, sometimes he would bring a chair closer to your bed to be more comfortable, and other times he would cover you more with the sheets when he noticed you’re cold, or he would carefully remove some strands of hair from your face, and in some occasions when you’re in a particularly deep sleep, he would sit on the side of your bed to feel you closer to him, situation in which he was in right now.

You were like a beautiful artwork to him, he could gaze at your human self for hours in pure admiration, it didn’t matter if you were in Paradise Lost or in another kingdom of hell, when he had time, he would indulge in this embarrassing habit of him.

You were in such a deep sleep that he felt that if tried to give you a small kiss you wouldn’t wake up at all, but the moment his face approached yours, an unexpected strength that for a second he doubted was yours grabbed his head tightly and smashed it against your warm chest.

Never in his millions of years of age had he been so caught off guard as he is now.

What was he even supposed to do now? Were you asleep? Did you discover him? Lucifer was blank, after a few seconds he realized that your impulsive action was possibly due to an instinct, surely even in your dreams you can recognize him and that’s why you brought him closer to you, which in short means that you want him close to you.

Once his thoughts were organized, careful not to hurt you with his pointed horn, Lucifer lay down on your bed as close to you as possible, in this position he could feel your heart beating more closely, and the fluffy surface of your chest cushioned his face in a comfortable position.

He had to restrain himself from biting your chest or trying to put his hands on your private areas, eventually when he managed to fall asleep he put those thoughts aside, he preferred to be with you in a more personal moment right now, when you both woke up he would have plenty of time to enjoy you in every possible way.

Extra: Gamigin found you two when he was looking for Lucifer, he took a photo for future blackmail material.

𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙋𝙃𝙀𝙂𝙊𝙍

Well, since he's already here, he might as well just sleep with you, what a hassle would it be to go back to his room.

He loves it when things go in his favor, he came to do his great deed of the day by checking on you since it had been a while since he saw you for the last time, and whoops, he's now sleeping with you, what a casualty.

To his surprise, your sleeping self took the initiative and pulled him to the bed first, to the bed, and to somewhere else too, most specifically the best pillow he could ever wish for, your chest.

Belphegor said to himself that he must have been an amazing devil in his past life, because of how wonderful what was happening to him today.

He hates wasting time, so as soon as you planted his face in your boobs, he snuggled there and got comfortable in your bed hugging your body tightly against his.

He would have loved to savor this moment, but his sleepiness won the battle against his horniness, and he passed out, good luck trying to get out of his embrace.

𝘽𝘼𝙀𝙇

He swears he was just trying to cover your sleeping self with a blanket, you pulling him to the bed with you was most definitely not on his plans, not that he complained.

He tried to softly push himself away from you, not because he didn’t like the current scenario of you tightly hugging him, but because Bael thought that even tho you were the one that put him in this situation, you were asleep and weren’t conscious of your actions.

It was a fool's intent, because the moment Bael tried to take your arms and softly put them away from him, you hugged him from the back of his head and squished his face between your beasts.

He was fucked

He was so fucked

Bael had two options, push himself away from you and wake you up, or stay with you in your embrace, in the soft pillowy surface of your chest, surrounded by the aroma of your delicious smell, with your soft arms wrapped around him.

He concluded that he deserved a little rest, and what better chance than this one, cuddled up with you, snuggled up in your chest, what a great life he has, he just wishes that Beelzebub doesn't find him anytime soon.

𝘽𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙏

It was an easy task, you had a headache so Mammon insisted that you should take a nap, he was just supposed to check on you by orders of his king, the current situation he was in was far from the original plan, and turned his quick task into the worst internal debate he’s ever had.

Bimet couldn't even remember how he ended up with his face buried in your chest, for a second he even doubted if you were human because of how fast everything happened.

Should he separate himself from you? You are his king’s property so he would probably feel jealous about this, wait, didn’t Mammon also own him? Then there shouldn’t be a problem, right?

You felt extremely warm, but it was a comforting warmth and not a fever type of warmth, maybe this wasn’t so bad, and either way, you were the one who faceplanted his face between your boobs, so in case anyone complained he had an excuse, Bimet could say that you suddenly developed super strength one day and he couldn't escape from your grip, yeah, that was an amazing excuse, what a genius he is.

Now that his mental debate is over, he could enjoy this little (And convenient) moment with you, so he got comfortable and held your body in his arms.

Just thinking about how the amount of money other devis and even the kings would pay just to be in his place got Bimet all excited, but to their disappointment, he had you now, or you had him.

Bimet underestimated how comfortable he was because in a matter of minutes, he had fallen completely asleep in your arms.

Extra: Mammon did notice Bimet’s absence, and when he went to your room to check if he was here he saw both of you sleeping in each other's arms, Mammon just smiled and took a photo of you.

[bring-forth-his-sac]

maybe some fluff and smut w negan where reader has scars/self harm scars and reader is like looking at them thinking about the past and negan cheers her up😋 also he’s like aggresive in bed but is sweet outside all that. also maybe some aftercare included too

thank you so so much for requesting (and for your patience!) I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Post Whisperer War Negan x f!reader

Tags: mentions of self harm, mentions of suicidal thoughts, cunnilingus, rough sex, pet names, swearing, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.5k

The voices around you blend into a monotonous rhythm. At this point in the community meeting, they shouldn’t be surprised people are beginning to zone out as they rehash the same talking points over and over again. 

You try to force yourself to focus but it’s a losing battle. The gist of it, as Negan so eloquently said to you the other day is “At this rate, the only thing that’ll be on the menu is regret, served with a big glass of desperation… but hey, if we gotta start cannibalising each other, I have no problem eating you out”. 

That last part earned him a scoff and quick slap to the arm.

Gathering in the heart of what was once the thriving community of Alexandria, the aftermath of the Whisperer's rampage is visible everywhere. Ruined homes, scattered debris of what was once vibrant greenhouses and the scarcity of resources cast a shadow of uncertainty over everyone.

“Gabriel is already working on the vegetable patches,” Rosita takes over “but we need food. Now. So I say we raid the old military base not too far from here. We can round some people up and scavenge through there in a few days time. Daryl’s out there now, seeing if it’s worth it”.

You sit quietly on the porch steps to one of the only houses left habitable, staring down at the scars that map your hands and lead up one of your forearms.

It’s been a while since you’ve truly stopped and studied each one, every line acting as a reminder of a time when pain felt like the only answer. 

You trace the lines with your fingertips, the blurry memories of these desperate moments slowly coming back to you. Back then, it was a release and the only way to stop the chaos swirling inside your mind. You remember the fleeting relief that followed, how it dulled the aching inside, if only for a moment. 

In a twisted way, it’s quite funny. You’ve fought so hard to stay alive since the dead began to rise and yet you would still do this, still hurt yourself.

How ironic.

You let out a small sigh, shifting your gaze up to watch Rosita again and pretend like you’re listening. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve self harmed or even had those thoughts. It feels dangerous to think about though, as if thinking back to those memories is like walking a tightrope of temptation. 

“If you’re interested in going to the military base, talk to me or Carol about it,” Rosita begins to finally wrap up the meeting “if not, then go speak to Gabriel or Aaron about helping with the rebuild. We gotta all work on this, no slacking. That’s the only way Alexandria can survive”. You nod vaguely to her words and thankfully, the meeting ends. 

As everyone disperses, you stay seated on the porch steps. Your mind feels foggy as it struggles to fully return to the present moment.

Thoughts of the past continue to tug at your consciousness, lingering like a bad smell. A sigh escapes your lips as you run a hand down your face, your eyes immediately going back to the scars that litter your arm. 

“You buffering or something?” The question completely catches you off guard, the deep voice coming from behind you. 

You already know who it is, of course you do, especially since you’re one of the only people he ever approaches— mainly because he knows you won’t tell him to fuck off… without good reason.

“I can’t just sit and enjoy the view?” you bat back, your prior feelings instantly getting masked with a facade of sass. 

Negan leaves the safety of the doorway now that it’s just the two of you. He grunts softly as he sits beside you, looking out at the remains of Alexandria.

 “... what view?” he asks dryly.

You roll your eyes. “Jackass” you curse him playfully.

He watches you out of the corner of his eye for a few moments, silently debating how to go about this. “You catch everything that was said in the meeting?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

Negan doesn’t exactly understand why but he always finds himself drifting over to you, his gaze flickering between you and whatever he’s supposed to be paying attention to. And the past few minutes of the meeting has been a very obvious case of depressive daydreaming, something he’s seen you slip into every once in a while.

“Hm? Yeah,” you shrug casually, glancing over at him.

He waits, wondering if you’ll crack and open up on your own. When you don’t, he tries again.

“You got notes written out on the lines on your arm?” Negan gestures to your scars, being as blunt as possible about it. 

Automatically covering your arm with your other hand, you shoot him a glare. Negan has always somehow toed the line, knowing how direct he can be without upsetting you too much. 

He doesn't push; he simply tests the waters before backing down and letting you take the lead. Negan quickly put his hands up in surrender. He knew there was no easy way of mentioning your scars but the sooner he addresses it, the sooner you’ll talk. 

He’s expecting a slap or to be cussed out for mentioning it but instead, you stand and march into the house.

It’s your natural reaction to flee the second someone mentions your scars, something you’ve done even when others simply looked in the direction of your arm.

He groans out your name, instantly standing to follow. “Don’t just walk off,” he follows you inside, silently thankful that the house is empty, everyone else out working for the day “you know I didn’t mean it like that… well, you know I didn’t mean to offend ya”.

You pause, debating with yourself on what to do. You opt to look down at the floor, unsure how to feel about the sudden confrontation.

"Listen, I get it. I saw ya eyeballin’ your arm for half the meeting and not to get all mushy and shit, but those scars don’t define you” Negan's expression shifts, giving way to something more sincere. He steps closer, his tone dropping to a softer register.

“They’re not a mark of weakness or worthlessness or whatever bullshit you tell yourself. They show you survived. You’ve got grit and I admire that more than anything.” He reaches out, gently grasping your chin to tilt your face toward his.

Despite every inch of you wanting to run again, you look up. The warmth in his eyes is undeniable and as much as you want to sink further into your defences, you can feel them slowly melt away.

You've always been a fortress in life, sturdy and unyielding. Every brick laid was a lesson learned, or another wound healed. 

You've perfected the art of keeping people at arm's length, never letting them see the cracks that run beneath the surface. In today’s world, vulnerability feels like a foreign language and one you've continuously avoided speaking.

“And if you ever need to remind yourself just how strong you are,” Negan continues, dropping his hand back down to his side “I’m right here, darlin’” 

You smile at his valiant offer and before you can stop it, you slowly open up “I just… sometimes, even when I don’t want to do those things again, I still think back to it. It’s like I’m reminiscing… and it can be hard to decipher whether my brain is thinking back because I want to be back there again or because I’m relieved I’m not…”. 

You brace for the impact, scanning for the possible retreat in Negan’s eyes but instead, you see nothing but understanding.

“You don’t think I feel like that now that I’m a supposed free man?” He asks softly “Even now, there’s still days —usually when I get the hundredth dose of stink eye thrown towards me— that I wonder if I’d be better off disappearing back into that cage. Even though I fuckin’ hated being in there!”. 

A strange sensation almost overwhelms you. The tension in your shoulders strangely ease and for the first time in ages, you're both not just survivors forced to endure; you're simply you and Negan is simply Negan.

Both of you flawed, real, and human. In his presence, vulnerability seems like less of a burden and more of a shared strength.

The air crackles with unspoken words and electric energy. You can almost taste the bittersweet mix of apprehension and desire. It's suffocating and you know you need an escape… but not by running away. 

As you look into his eyes, something shifts within you. The world outside fades and all that matters is in this room. Right now, you want to cast aside any doubts and just embrace the thrill. 

In a quick move, you step closer to him, invading his personal space. The sombre glint in Negan’s eyes transforms into something deeper.

Without thinking, you reach for him, fingers brushing against his arm and igniting a spark that sends a shiver through you both. Surprise flickers past his face before that signature grin breaks through, wide and knowing. 

You lean in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “This has all been… a lot…” you begin, unsure how exactly you’re about to say this “and I think… I think I might just need—“

Negan doesn’t give you time to finish that sentence, your urge towards him telling him all he needs to know.

In one swift motion, he pulls you flush against him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that ignites a wildfire of emotion. It’s a blend of urgency and tenderness, a collision of passion that leaves you breathless. 

It’s dizzying, the way he makes you feel seen, even if it’s just for this heartbeat in time. You let yourself be swept away, surrendering to the connection that pulls you both together.

“Oh I know exactly what you need“ Negan mutters against your lips.

You pull him into another bruising kiss before egging him on further “Then show me”.

That’s all Negan needs, your request allowing him to let loose. Capturing your lips in another kiss, he slowly begins moving forward, forcing you back until you hit against a table. He grabs your waist and lifts you up onto it, his hands immediately going for the zip of your pants.

He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes. “You just sit back,” he instructs, pleased as you lift your hips and let him tug down your jeans, not stopping until they’re on the floor beside him “let me take care of everything, baby”.

In an instant, Negan is kneeling between your thighs, pressing soft kisses along both legs. You can feel the warmth gather at your core, immediately wanting to welcome every inch of him.

“Ready to turn off your brain for a bit? Hmm?” Looking up at you through his eyelashes, Negan places a gentle kiss on your clothed pussy. 

He tries not to smirk as he feels your pussy pulsing desperately for him. Letting out a whimper, you nod.

“Ah ah ah,” Negan tuts, his tone as soft as it can be despite his scolding words “you made me wait a long fuckin’ time to show you a good time, you damn well know I’m not going to dig in until I hear you say it”. 

“Fuck– Negan, yes,” you say breathlessly, glancing at the door as you do “please, I want you”. Even with how exposed you are, your mind is too hazy to care about the possibility of someone walking in. All your attention is on Negan’s breath that’s only a mere few centimetres away from your soaked pussy.

Kissing you through your panties again, Negan hooks a finger around the fabric and slowly pulls it to the side, carefully revealing his gift.

Without a second thought, he buries his face between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips firmly to keep you from squirming away. 

You gasp loudly, not expecting so much contact so quickly. You bite your lip to quieten your moans but it’s no use.

He looks up at you with his mouth full of your pussy, his eyes gleaming with desire. He sucks harder, his tongue flicking rapidly against your clit. 

He releases his hands from your hips to rub your ass, pulling you against his face. Mumbling against your most sensitive area, a shiver runs up your spine as he compliments “Mmm, best fuckin’ meal I’ve had in years.”

Your legs quiver as you get closer to the edge, your core helplessly clenching around nothing as he eats you out. He’s determined, you’ll give him that. And the one thing Negan wants now more than anything is to taste your release on his tongue.  

“Come for me, doll” he growls encouraging, his stubble scratching your inner thighs. 

With a series of whines and moans for more, you let go.

He keeps his face between your thighs, lapping up your essence as you come undone. Negan waits until you've stopped convulsing before he lifts his head up, wiping your gleaming juices away from his mouth with the back of his hand.

He grins up at you, happy with his work. “Well, you wanted me…” he trails off purposefully, taking a moment to plant a kiss on your leg before giving a slight tug at your panties that are still pushed out of the way “so now you’re gonna get me”.

Negan hurriedly unbuckles his pants as he stands, freeing his hard cock and giving himself a few strokes, precum already dripping from the tip. Working in tandem, you yank down your panties and drop them next to your jeans. 

Before your panties have time to hit the floor, Negan’s kissing you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist, both of you as impatient at the other.

“This what you wanted, huh?” Negan continues to talk, rubbing the head of his cock against your slick entrance, “this the distraction you were looking for?”.

You speak only in moans, going wild at the sensation of his cock being so close to your centre and yet still so far away from actually being inside of you. 

He cups your chin, making you maintain eye contact as he presses you for an answer “I can’t hear you, sweetness”.

“Please, just do it” you pant, still not over your initial high.

He grins wider at your compliance and slowly pushes into you, his eyes locked onto yours. Your body tenses as he stretches you out in a way that borders on painful. “Negan,” his name leaves your mouth as a haggard breath.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart, you know you’re ready for it, you can take it” he coos, pushing all the way in before he stops to give you time to adjust.

He groans as he fully sheaths himself inside you, his hips flush against yours. Attempting to be a gentleman, Negan starts slow.

His eyes leave yours, watching as he gradually pulls out. He grunts satisfactorily, filling you to the hilt again. 

“Please,” you whimper ���don’t tease”.

Negan chuckles, though his restraint is weakening “Patience is a virtue, darlin’”.

You tilt your head back, the slow force of Negan inside of you making your brain melt. All you want is already inside of you but it’s not enough. This isn’t a time for sweet love making. 

You want to be fucked, plain and simple.

“Yeah and you’re a vice so fuck me already,” you nudge the heel your foot against his ass, trying to make him speed up. Negan smirks again, his ego adoring your words.

The table creaks under you when he picks up the pace, the wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the room. 

"You can take it, can’t you? Fuck yeah, I know you can" He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he continues to pound into you. 

You nod desperately, wanting to prove to him that you can take all he’s got to give. He hooks his arms under your knees, spreading you wider and increasing his depth.

His movements become harder and faster, making sure you can feel every inch of him. You yearn it, trying desperately to shimmy your hips on the table to meet each thrust.

Negan pistons into you like a man on a mission, burying his face in by your neck as his hands frantically begin to explore your body. Negan knows he won’t last much longer, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take this opportunity to finally see your tits. 

His hands push up your shirt, hiking it up in a hurry as your bra comes into view. “Wanna introduce me to the girls?” He suggests, his breath coming out in hot pants against your neck.

At this moment, you want everything just as much as he does. Reaching down, you lift up your bra just enough for your breasts to come free.

Even though there’s no rush, it feels as though you don’t have the time to take off your bra properly, feeling that coil tighten in your lower stomach.

His eyes drop to your chest, and he licks his lips hungrily. “Goddamn, just when I thought you couldn’t get any better” Negan cups your breasts roughly, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he continues to fuck into you. He leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

“Oh my fucking—” you groan out, interupting yourself with another moan. You grip the edge of the table enough to turn your knuckles white, your whole body feeling overwhelmed.

He releases your nipple with a wet pop and straightens up, his thumb trailing down to your swollen clit.

“C’mon darlin’, I need to feel ya clench around me,” Negan slams into you, his rhythm erratic as he nears his own release “one more time, baby, come for me”. 

Your body convulses as it hits you. Gasps morph into a wave of quick, sharp pants as you clutch Negan any way you can. Feeling your pussy clamp down on his shaft, Negan’s hips sputter to a stop as the contractions send him over the edge with you.

It takes all of Negan’s willpower not to stay exactly how he is; with his dick buried deep inside of you. 

But he knows better and quickly pulls out, releasing his load onto your inner thigh instead. He has to nuzzle his face in by your neck, silencing himself the best he can. The last thing either of you need is Negan to get loud and attract people from outside.

The sound of your mixed breaths fill the room as you both come back to your senses. You look down at the mess on your thigh, wondering how much longer you both have until someone comes looking for one of you. 

“You know what?” Negan breaks the silence, a sheen of sweat across his forehead as he moves to look at you “I think I like it when you open up”. He nudges your legs, a deep chuckling escaping him.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes “and get me a towel or something”. He licks his lips, his mind already wondering what your next session will be like, subtly noting how much he likes hearing you order him around. 

He nods “Yes ma’am”.

Leaning down, Negan searches the back pockets of his pants before pulling out a small handkerchief.

“Now,” he announces as he gently wipes his cum off of your thigh “my cum rag can become ours”.

“Negan!” You exclaim, your hands busy yanking your bra and shirt back down to push the rag away from you “Don’t use your dirty cum rag on me!!”. 

Negan chuckles, his smile alone keeping your annoyance at bay. “I’m just fucking with ya, it ain’t a cum rag,” he wipes the last drop of himself off your leg “but now that we’ve christened it as a cum rag, I guess that means we'll have to use it again”. 

Negan winks as if you don’t get the obvious insinuation and before you can object, he kisses you. You’re quick to reciprocate, knowing that there’s no way you’d turn down an opportunity like this again.

A faint smirk graces his face as Negan pulls back, pleased with the fact that you returned his kiss.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Negan clears his throat “But seriously, next time you need to talk to somebody, or open up them legs, I’m your man”. 

You smile at the sincerity of his words, knowing he’s completely and utterly serious about both offers. 

Thinking for a moment, you agree “I will”. 

He holds up his pinky “Promise? And then I’ll help you into your jeans?”. 

You scoff as if he’s inconveniencing you by making you a pinky promise but you both know you appreciate the gesture. Lifting your pinky up to his, they hook together.

“Promise”.

And with that, Negan steals one more kiss before helping you back into your jeans.

[pretty-little-mind33]

chaser!James Potter x chaser!fem!reader

Summary: James is threatened by how good you are at Quidditch which means he hates you. And what emotion is closer to hate than love?

Genre: Angsty Fluff, 'rivals' to lovers <3

Warnings: James is seriously a dick in the beginning, teasing, slight bullying, swearing, fighting, social class differences, reader is an only child, didn't really understand how Quidditch Captains are appointed but bare with me <3

~ finally finished this! loved this ask anon! thank you, my lovely! ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

James Potter is sprawled across the large, maroon, couch in the center of the Gryffindor Common room, his arms draped over the cushions as his legs lay across Sirius Black's lap.

Sirius, who would probably mind more if he wasn't as drunk as his best friend. 

"I mean, fuck me, she wasn't even that good and McGonagall saw her and still looked at her like she'd just hung the moon in the sky!" James exclaims, his ears burning as he recalls Quidditch tryouts that morning. 

He's pissed. 

"You're just annoyed that she just started and now has a chance at Captain because Mini liked her so much," Sirius points out, which earns him a harsh swat on the top of his head.

James's face sours and he restrains himself from whining like a petulant child. Sirius was right, he was mad because you gave him a run for his money and no one has done that until now. 

This was supposed to be his year. McGonagall loved him (mostly)! The Captain position was basically promised to him since his second year and now you've come around and ruined this for him! 

"She's seriously not even that good, it's infuriating," James lies and looks around the small gathering they're having. He knows everyone can hear him but he doesn't care. "And she's so fucking annoying," he sounds bitter, "she's always talking everyone's ears off— and have you seen her stupid hair? She wore those fucking space buns just to make herself look cute, I swear!" He lifts himself off the couch for a moment, his arms raising in exasperation, and then lets out a sigh. 

"That is usually the reason girls do their hair, James, yes," Remus interrupts from the floor where he's reading his book, his back leaning against the couch. 

"Shut up," James grumbles and slumps back down. "I don't want her on the team. She's a nuisance already." 

"Speaking of," Peter adds, his voice smaller as he glances towards the stairs to the girls' dorms. James whips his head around and his eyes narrow. You're walking towards the small gathering with some friends. 

You're dressed in a Quidditch sweater that is only slightly oversized as the sleeves cover your hands. You're blissfully unaware of how much James Potter hates you so when you see him staring, you assume he wants to talk to you. You liked his company during tryouts. He was funny.

You'd always found him funny. 

So, you walk over with a smile and James struggles to sit up. He's very obviously sloshed. 

"Hello, Potter," you say and your smile widens. "This is Jane and that's Gabrielle," you introduce your friends. "I enjoyed try-outs, you were amazing. If I'm honest, I've always admired you during games. You're so talented," you feel yourself rambling but you're smiling too much to stop yourself, "I'm so happy we're gonna be on the same team now! I think we should–" 

James cuts you off, a mean smirk on his lips as he looks at his friends and the students around you, "What did I say? A little chatterbox this one is," he quips, not completely unaware of how harsh his words are even in his drunken state. 

Your hands fall at your sides, and the wind feels like it's been knocked from your lungs at his words when you realize he's making fun of you. You look at your friends and they stare at James with pronounced frowns.

"Oh," you whisper, but then you add, "That's not very nice, Potter." 

A little surprised you'd had the guts to stand up to him, James retorts instantly. "Yeah? Is it now, Y/l/n?" He sounds mocking again and you don't understand why. 

Your friends pull on your sleeve. "C'mon, Y/n, he's a prick," they turn you around, feeling how hurt you are as they walk away from James and his friends. 

"Classy, James, real classy," Remus mutters under his breath. 

And as awful as sober James might admit it is, he feels like he'd won something against you. 

* * *

You can't understand why James seems to hate you as much as he does. 

You've never been mean to him or done anything to harm him— on the contrary, you've only ever spoken highly of him and you know you've made a point of showing him that you trust him as a player when you're practicing. You want him to trust you too. 

And still, James hates you and he makes that very clear. 

He turns anything into a competition when it comes to you and it's obvious he takes pleasure in making you feel like shit.

As the days turn into weeks, you feel hopeless and even now you find yourself sitting alone on the grass during breaks, adjusting your uniform so you look busy as you hold in your tears. 

You can hear James's cruel whispers about you to your teammates, purposefully creating rifts between you and them so you'll feel even more alone.

"She's so desperate," James's mockery causes another ache in your stomach and you chew on your lip so hard you're afraid you'll draw blood. You try not to listen to him as the whistle blows and the practice game starts again. 

You're not on James's team this time–which means he either ignores you completely or targets you over anyone. As he hovers near you, you realize this morning it's the latter. 

Maria Baker throws you the Quaffle and just as she does, you can sense James coming. You avoid his shoulder just in time and, with a huff, you score into the nearest hoop.

This just infuriates James even more and ups his game—which means the next time you have the Quaffle, he flies up to your shoulder again and pushes you hard to the side. He jabs his elbow into your ribs, purposefully playing dirty. 

You wince. "O-ow, James, that hurts," you hiss, focusing on staying in the air as James rough-houses with you.

Your anger builds now and you shove him back, almost slipping from your broom as you try and defend yourself.

The Quaffle falls from your arms as James hits your shoulder with his again and you gasp. You expect him to rush to the ball and continue the game but he's furious from you shoving him so he grabs one of your braids and pulls. 

You feel yourself fall from your broom as you cry in pain and you turn your body, clutching the end of James's uniform and, with a grunt from him, you're suddenly both plummeting to the ground. 

You roll onto your stomach, falling onto James's chest as his arms automatically wrap around your back and he groans, looking up at you as you practically straddle his lap. Your head is throbbing from where he'd pulled your hair, your left braid messier than your right, and pure fury flashes in your eyes. 

You lean over James, grabbing a handful of his curls and you pull. "What the bloody hell is your problem? How do you like it, hm?! You insufferable jerk!" 

James doesn't take too kindly to this and he grabs your wrists, flipping you over so you're the one under him. His mum had told him never to hit a girl but oh does he want to hit you right now. You're staring up at him with that look he hates—the one that makes him feel all fluttery in his stomach.

You're struggling against his grip, grass in your hair. James's cheeks must be just as covered in dirt as yours are and his shoulder aches from the way he'd fallen. 

"Potter! Y/l/n!" The whistle blows and the current Captain, Ines Clarke, runs up with McGonagall behind her. She'd seen the commotion from inside and seemed more than furious as she rushed over.

Some of your teammates follow, including Sirius Black who grips James's collar and pulls him off you. You hear Sirius hiss, "Prongs!! What in Godric's name is wrong with you?!" and then McGonagall pulls your attention to her. 

Ines helps you up, looking concerned but then turns her attention to James. McGonagall walks over and when she sees the mess James has made of you, she frowns. "Are you alright, Miss Y/l/n?"

You nod, your lips pressed tightly as you see a bunch of your teammates have gathered around James as he rolls his shoulder. You look at your broom, which lies broken on the grass, and your eyes water. McGonagall senses your distress and she glances at James. 

"James Potter!" She suddenly snaps her dainty fingers and James is next to her in seconds, both hands gripping his only slightly damaged broom. 

It had been better quality than yours anyway. 

His nervous eyes dart from McGonagall to you as he takes you in. You stare at him, unable to look away from how messy you've made his naturally tousled hair and you wonder if grass and dirt stick to your cheeks just as they do to James'. 

"This," McGonagall points in between you both, "isn't how we do things here—you know this better than anyone, Mr. Potter. Your behavior is unacceptable." she reprimands him sternly and then looks at you, "and Miss Y/l/n, no matter how other teammates provoke you, you don't have the right to lay your hands on them either."

"But–" 

"No. No more buts." McGonagall ignores both your protests as she looks down at your broom. "You need to learn how to behave like a team."

She thinks for a moment. "Tomorrow morning, you'll travel to Hogsmeade so Miss Y/l/n can replace her broom. Mr. Potter, you'll help her without any complaints, and neither of you better step foot on the pitch again until you've worked out whatever this feud is." 

Your eyes widen. You want to tell McGonagall you cannot buy a new broom right now, but she clearly doesn't have anyexcuses about her new team bonding exercise. This means, much to your dismay, you end up waiting for James early the next morning, hugging your arms around you as you pick at the wool on your sweater. 

James is ten minutes late. You want to kill him. 

"Oi," his voice calls from behind you, irritatingly nonchalant. You turn and see he's also wearing his Quidditch sweater—which means you're now unintentionally matching—and a pair of casual trousers. James sends you a lopsided smirk, pushing his hands into his pockets as he sways on his feet almost awkwardly. "Why so gloomy, newb?" he mocks, the nickname rolling cruelly from his tongue.

You scrunch up your nose and spin around, walking in front of him as you clutch your purse. You don't want to give him a reaction and have him mock you the entire way into town. Instead, you both walk in silence, taking in the morning air and the sound of the birds.

Occasionally your purse will hit James's hip and he'll frown, opening to say another snarky comment until he sees a keychain; the one you have of Olive Gnats, a famous chaser from the Montrose Magpies.

"Oh, Gnats, I like her too—" he finds himself admitting before he can remind himself he hates you. 

You startle and clutch your keychain, wanting to hide it from him but then you look down and then back up at James. "O-oh, yeah, she's my favorite player. Her technique is incomparable."

"Seen her match last year?"

"'Course," you say, your tone less on edge now that you're talking about something you clearly love, and the rambling you do so much kicks in, "I would watch her every game ever since I was six years old. Have around ten posters in my room at home, some are old now but—I- I studied her moves when I would play around with my mum and dad—they also played in school—that's how they met—" You cut yourself off, James's earlier taunts ringing in your head. 

Your rambling is ignored as curiously overpowers him and James asks, "You have no siblings to play with?"

You shake your head. "Nope. Only child."

James's hazel eyes soften and he feels a funny feeling in his chest. "Oh, m-me too. Has its perks and its downfalls, y'know?" he whispers as he looks at you from the corner of his eye. His heart pounds.

The sun hits your skin just perfectly and your hair smells like cinnamon shampoo. James feels drawn to you again—just like he had in the beginning—and he wants to stop himself but when you laugh at his comment, he feels like an arrow has just shot his heart. 

"Oh yeah, it certainly does," you sound guarded again and James can't even be upset.

It's his fault you're like this around him.

He opens the door for you when you enter Quality Quidditch Supplies and the little bell rings. Instantly, you're drawn to the newest broom—displayed with polished wood and improved flying qualities—but you turn your head, knowing instantly you can't pay for a broom like that—

"Hey, look at this one," James's excitement tugs at your heart and you walk over, standing beside him as you can't help but admire the broom up close. "It feels amazing," James says as he runs his hand over the smooth wood. He's grinning. "This is the one, isn't it?"

You bite your cheek. You want it to be.

"I don't know, I–haven't seen the others," you whisper, avoiding James's eyes.

"What? What are you talking about? This one is the best by far, you aren't gonna find a better broom."

"I want to look around," you whisper, looking at the price of this broom, and your heart sinks.

"Y/n, this is ridiculous—"

"James, stop," you snap, very clearly annoyed. You can't tell if he means well by being persistent since he's only just now started to show you any form of kindness and this still feels like some cruel joke he's playing on you.

"I can't pay for this one—and the truth is I can't pay for any of these so—I- I think—" you pause, clutching at your purse desperately as you hold in tears of embarrassment. "I should tell McGonagall I couldn't find a broom I liked and I'll borrow an older one from my parents—

—plus, if I buy this one you'll just have another reason to hate me," you finish. 

Your words hit James hard as he takes in what you mean. Shame sneaks up on him instantly as he knows exactly why you would think that. It suddenly hits him just how threatened he's been and as silly as it sounds the only image in James's head is the disappointed look of his mother if she knew he had taken out his own insecurities on you. 

If Euphemia Potter knew how much of a dick he's been to you, she'd be horrified.

He looks at you closely, taking in how embarrassed you look. During tense moments with his friends, Remus had sometimes told him he was a spoiled rich boy—unaware of real struggles — and he'd always brushed him off.

Only this time, he can't unhear Remus's jab as he realizes how foolish he had been to assume anything about you.

"Oh," he whispers.

You look away at the other brooms. "I- I honestly didn't realize how expensive new brooms are. My mum and dad had gotten the other one for my eleventh birthday—I should have been more careful—" You sound sad and James's heart sinks. 

"Hey, listen, it's my fault your broom is broken. I- shouldn't have been so rough on you like I was. I'm sorry," he speaks up, sounding sincere and you look up at him, expecting a better explanation than that. 

"It's no excuse but, the truth is, I was incredibly threatened by you. You're so good, better than me even, and I really want Captain so—"

"I don't want Captain," you say instantly. "I just wanted to be on the team—"

At that point, James remembers what you'd said that night when he was piss-drunk in the Common Room. 'I've always admired you during games.' It dawns on him that you just wanted him to like you and, instead, he'd gone and seen you as an enemy. His chest hurts. 

He has never felt more like an ass than now. 

"Okay, well, um," he whispers, rubbing his nape, "Let me make it up to you then. I'll buy you the broom." James means well, he truly does, but it only makes you feel more embarrassed and you shake your head. 

"No. I don't need your pity," you say instantly as you stare at him, eyes narrowed. 

"I'm not pitying you! I'm fixing my mistake," he exclaims, his voice strained.

You open your mouth to protest when he adds, "Please."

James looks determined as he rummages through his robes for any spare change he can use and then he curses. "Shit, I didn't bring enough money," he mumbles and lifts his head, looking up at you with his puppy-like brown eyes. "I promise I'll buy it for you, Y/n. Okay? I'll make this right," he adds again and your expression softens. 

"Sure, James," you whisper, not entirely sure if you believe him. 

* * *

He did buy you the broom.

James had it wrapped neatly with a small letter signed J.P accompanied with the words, "I'm sorry," scribbled onto the parchment. 

Since that morning, he didn't ignore you anymore, he included you with the other teammates, and he played fair with you—even complimenting you sometimes. McGonagall had seen the change in dynamic and so had Ines, which she'd praised you both for.

"Good job, Y/l/n," Ines grins as she packs up her bags, "you and Potter seem to be getting on much better now." She winks and her comment passes over you as you focus on untying your ponytail, rubbing your scalp. 

The rest of the team has fallen in front of you, laughing and chatting as they walk back to the dorm. You're lost in the moment, struggling with holding your bag as you run your hand in your hair, the tightness of the ponytail was causing you a headache. 

Suddenly, you suddenly squeal when you almost trip over James—who had bent down to tie his shoes and had been separated from the group. 

He grunts and stands up, turning around and catching your arm as he steadies you. 

"Oh hey, Y/n," he grins, and then he glances at your poor bag hanging from your arm. Swiftly, he takes your bag and holds it over his other shoulder, not even commenting on the gesture. 

"Want some company walking back to the Common Room?" he asks casually.

You blow some strands away from your eyes as you look up at him, grateful for the momentary relief from your bag as the pain in your scalp subsides.

"Sure," you say, reaching for your bag but James holds it up and away from you. 

"Let me be a gentleman here," he teases.

You roll your eyes with no malice. "Hero complex much, Potter?"

He chuckles as you walk inside the school, side by side. James winks at you. "On the contrary, Y/l/n, I am the hero. Don't need a complex when you are one, y'know?"

You laugh, hearing the joking infliction in his voice as your heart feels lighter. Much to your better judgment, you've actually been enjoying James's company these last weeks, and talking to him alone like this has been even more fun. "I think you think much too highly of yourself, James." you tease him back. 

"I am wounded, Y/n." He fakes hurt as he puts a hand over his heart. 

"It's true is it not?" you say with a smirk and James narrows his eyes as you turn a corner, getting closer to the Common Room. You shrug, catching yourself. "Nothing wrong with some confidence." 

James grins, his eyes sparkling playfully as he gently nudges your side with his elbow. "You could learn a few things from me, eh?"

You frown. "Are you saying I'm not confident?"

James hums, smirking, "'M just giving you some advice, love. You have the skills now, you gotta trust yourself." You both approach the entrance and you mutter the secret word to the Fat Lady Painting and the door cracks open. You push it further with your palm. 

"Since when are you giving me Quidditch advice to make me better?" 

James turns around once he's inside and hands you your bag. "Since I realized if you can't beat them, join them," he jokes with a smile, "We're a team now, Y/n. I know I was a real dick in the beginning, but I look out for my teammates. You're my teammate, so now I look after you."

Your shoulders relax and a small smile tugs your lips. "Thanks, James," you say honestly and rest your bag higher on your shoulder, tucking some hair behind your ear as you smooth the knots a little. "I really appreciate that."

"Anytime," James whispers as you walk up the stairs to the girl's dorm. Sirius whistles from where he's sitting on one of the couches, his head leaning against the armrest as he watches you and James. Once you disappear from view, James spins around, his eyes narrowing at his best friend. 

Sirius winks and looks at James's sneakers. "This is the third time this week you've used that stupid shoelace excuse, Prongs. At this point, just stay back and ask her to walk with you, you chicken."

James's cheeks turn crimson and he walks over to shove Sirius, "Shut up." 

Sirius just laughs loudly. 

* * *

You've never felt so nervous in your life as you clutch the wood of your new, expensive, broom. The wind has picked up and everyone can tell the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor seekers are having a hard time finding the snitch. You're breathing heavily as you look around, seeing Maria—the third chaser—throw James the Quaffle. 

James easily catches the Quaffle, avoiding the Ravenclaws on his right as he swoops lower. Your adrenaline is pumping and you think you know what he's doing. You hope. You fly closer and higher to the hoops, letting James know you're open.

Your memory flashes to the beginning when he wouldn't pass you the Quaffle under any circumstances, even if it cost the team the point. He can be so headstrong and your body is buzzing as you watch him closely.

What if he doesn't throw it to you? You have the perfect shot. 

James looks at you from the corner of his eye, shoving a Ravenclaw with his shoulder to disorient them.

He could want the score for himself—but he's surrounded, he could miss.

The sound of the crowd is drowned out when you see his arm raise and he's communicating with his eyes. You nod, jumping into action as you fly closer and avoid the Ravenclaws as you catch the Quaffle and throw your arm back, throwing the Quaffle directly into the middle hoop. 

Just as you score, Oliver—Ravenclaw's seeker—catches the snitch and the whistle blows. Gryffindor was leading already and you glance at the board. It didn't matter that Oliver caught the snitch, your goal had helped secure Gryffindor the win. Cheers erupt around you and you find yourself in a trance as your feet hit the ground and you clutch your broom.

"Y/n!" Someone calls your name as the ringing in your ears dies and you feel hands wrap around your waist, hoisting you up in the air as you twirl around. A gasp escapes your lips as you clutch onto the culprit's shoulder, the cheers continuing to echo around the pitch.  

"You did so amazingly," James's excitement shines as he slowly lowers you back onto the ground, your chest brushing against his as your hands find themselves wrapped around his neck. You stare into his eyes, feeling his proximity and you suddenly feel warm and dizzy.

Has he always been this handsome?

"James." His name is the only thing your brain can think to say as he refuses to let you go. He also looks breathless and his cheeks have turned a faint shade of pink as his eyes roam over your features. 

You want to tell him a thousand things. How good he was, how you're so happy the team won, how honored you are he trusted you enough to throw you the Quaffle to make the score. You want to ask if you were more confident this time and if he's noticed your effort—but instead, any attempt at words is drowned by his lips meeting yours. 

You don't kiss him back for a moment, your hand faltering behind his neck as your fingers find the baby hairs on his nape. He feels so close and your lips part a little, kissing him back carefully as your eyes shut. 

James's hands squeeze your waist and for a moment the crowd and the team are completely forgotten until James pulls away, and the sound of cheering returns as the realization of what happened dawns on you both. 

"I'm sorry," James mutters, stepping away but he keeps a hand on you. 

"You're sorry?" you ask, your voice small. 

James hesitates, looking at you seriously and then he shakes his head. "No. I'm not sorry."

Your lips curl upwards and, still ignoring everyone around you, you pull him down by the collar of his shirt and kiss his lips again. James grins against your mouth, his heart thumps in his chest as all he can think about is you.

"Oi, no PDA on the pitch, you pervs!" Sirius's teasing voice suddenly shouts out from somewhere beside you but you're almost positive no one else is worried about you and James considering everyone's celebrating on their own.

James must feel the same because he throws up a middle finger with the hand that leaves your waist and you laugh into his mouth, reaching for his arm to stop him.

"Prick," James mutters to Sirius, "You're annoying," he adds with some playful bite. 

He turns to you and his gaze softens. "But you're lovely," he whispers, earning him the prettiest smile he's ever seen and he's never been more proud.

tags: @mischievousmoony, @sayitlikethecheese

[zoe-oneesama]

Why does the fandom think Nathalie cares about Adrien? She's always all monotone indifference and "this is what your father says/wants". Yet the fandom likes leaving Adrien in her care post-hawkmoth sometimes? If you're really gonna read into things like that let's praise the one adult who DOES care about him- his bodyguard! Remember how the mere sight of him was enough to calm him down enough to thwart Hawkmoth's intentions in the gigantitan episode?

But no seriously I'm so bad at noticing these things- why do people think she cares about more than Gabriel?

Welp, she is the reason Gabriel let Adrien go to school according to Origins Part 2, and then we got the Great Hiatus to let that one tiny moment of feelings sit and fester in the fandom brain.

And Season 5 definitely did it's hardest to frame Nathalie as Here For Adrien, so it's like the whole series is bookended by That version of Nathalie.

But I get the confusion, Nathalie's been all over the damn place. Different Seasons characterize her almost like adjacent sister versions of herself? Like not a TOTALLY different person, but different enough that I'm worried about body snatchers lol. I pretty much compartmentalize Nathalie according to the season:

Season 1 - Belligerent Assistant who's job description does not and should not include taking care of her boss's son yet here she freaking is.

Season 2 - Reveal that she's totally In-The-Know, her indifference has reached knew levels of being just outright negligent, she is officially culpable.

Season 3 - Team Rocket era where she is fully into the evil dramatics. Also the gross fun addition of her officially being In Love™️with her boss and being angsty about it despite her bringing it upon herself. Also girl he's so crusty get some standards.

Season 4 - Bedridden bionic woman. Was it worth it? WAS IT WORTH IT?!

Season 5 - Pissed off divorcee era. She is actively picking fights and weaponizing the children at her not-ex, and while I'm side eyeing the last 4 seasons, I am here for this level of sass while she scoffs at Gabriel being his Worst Self™️. Too bad about the whole Dying thing but hey. You gotta make up for...all of that other stuff, right?

She's just kinda doomed to not be a cohesive character. I do like her heel turn in Season 5, especially because she was RIGHT, Gabriel had THE OPPORTUNITY to save not only Emilie but also Nathalie and threw it away because he wants to throw hands with teenagers. I too would walk away after that spectacular display of failure. I kinda wish she had someone to talk to, like even Duusu, just to explain that the only reason she hasn't exposed Gabriel altogether is because he'd definitely expose her as well and then Adrien'd be left alone. Like it's easy to infer that, but in a kids show, stuff like motivations kinda need to be laid out neatly.

Cuz otherwise it leaves it open ended - is she covering to spare Adrien from being essentially orphaned, or is she covering to save her own ass? After the 5ish versions of her, either interpretation is fair.

[krummholz-go]

The Final 15 - Aziraphale’s Perspective

I see a lot of empathy for Crowley’s experience during the final 15 minutes of season 2 and it makes sense that we feel deeply for him. What he is experiencing is very human - acknowledging the depth of his own feelings, plucking up the courage to say something, having it come out all wrong, feeling utterly rejected, and then walking away in a mix of pain and anger. Who among us hasn’t been there?

But Aziraphale is experiencing something more complicated, something fewer of us have analogs for. Aziraphale has internally acknowledged his feelings for Crowley for some period of time, probably at least since 1941. Michael Sheen confirms this mental state in a NYCC 2018 interview:

“I decided early on that Aziraphale just loves Crowley. And that’s difficult for him because they are on opposite sides and he doesn’t agree with him on stuff. But it does really help as an actor to go, ‘My objective in this scene is to not show you how much I love you and just gaze longingly at you.’”

Unlike Crowley, Aziraphale’s struggle isn’t acknowledging his feelings. His struggle appears to be two-fold: 1) believing that Crowley could ever love him back and 2) even if Crowley did love him, believing a future for the two of them together could exist within the restrictions of his larger world view.

Can Crowley love?

Angels are, traditionally, beings of love. We see Aziraphale embody this time and again, showing kindness and support to almost everyone he meets, including the amnesiac Gabriel who has treated him abominably in the past. He is attuned to love, remarking on how the area around Tadfield “feels loved” twice in Season 1. As for how Aziraphale personally understands and expresses love, he shows his love to others through verbal affirmation and, to a lesser extent, physical touch. There are many examples of Aziraphale expressing his love for Crowley through positive verbal affirmation, typically by praising him for instances where he has been kind, nice, or good. And on the rare occasions when Aziraphale receives verbal praise, he absolutely interprets it as an expression of love, blossoming with happiness.

But from Aziraphale’s perspective, it may be unclear if Crowley can feel love in the same way. Can demons love? Did he lose that capability when he fell? Crowley can’t feel the aura of love in Tadfield that Aziraphale remarks on, and his reactions to Aziraphale’s praise are always to shrug it off, tell Aziraphale to “shut up,” or in the most extreme case to physically slam him against a wall and get in his face about it. In this last instance he tells Aziraphale, “I’m a demon, I’m not nice. I'm never nice. Nice is a four-letter word.” A four-letter word, like love, that is not in Crowley’s self-defined vocabulary.

If Crowley can feel love, does he love Aziraphale?

Even if Aziraphale believes Crowley is capable of feeling love, he does not always recognize how Crowley expresses it in the moment. Crowley shows his love for Aziraphale through actions, but Aziraphale often misconstrues Crowley’s motivations. In 1793 when Crowley rescues him from the Bastille, Aziraphale initially assumes Crowley is only there because he is responsible for the Reign of Terror. Similarly, in 1941, Aziraphale’s reaction to Crowley’s appearance is to assume he’s just part of the Nazi gang, saying,“I should have known. Of course. These people are working for you!”

Crowley doesn’t help matters in this regard because he is constantly muting and undercutting his signals to Aziraphale. Every time Crowley expresses his love for Aziraphale through actions - rescuing him, saving his books, even taking him to lunch - he does so in a nonchalant, dismissive manner, indicating he ascribes little value or importance to the actions he has performed. “I just didn’t want to see you embarrassed,” he says when he appears in 1941. And when Aziraphale positively glows with happiness about his books being saved, Crowley tells him to “shut up."On top of these confusing signals, Crowley is almost pathologically incapable of expressing his feelings in the verbal love language that Aziraphale can understand. This is heartbreakingly demonstrated in this scene after the bookshop fire:

Crowley can’t even say “I lost you.” Instead he speaks of Aziraphale in the third person while sitting in front of him, saying, “I lost my best friend.” The little hitch on Aziraphale’s face when he hears this is just devastating. Who is Crowley talking about? The last conversation they had before this scene was when Aziraphale called while Hastur was in Crowley’s apartment and Crowley said, “Not a good time - got an old friend here.” Aziraphale is left to wonder - is that who Crowley means when he says "best friend?" Crowley is everything to Aziraphale, but what is he to Crowley?

How Would It Even Work?

Even when Aziraphale does get flashes of the possibility that Crowley may care for him he immediately runs up against his second mental block - there is no world he can imagine where they could be together. When Crowley first suggests running off together in the bandstand scene in S1E3, Aziraphale collapses under the thought: “Friends? We aren’t friends. We are an angel and a demon. We have nothing whatsoever in common. I don’t even like you.”

While he is obviously in denial, Aziraphale is also under tremendous stress in this moment and is desperately trying to hold onto some stability by falling back onto his world view and ideology. In this state he backpedals all the way to “I don’t even like you.” In his understanding of the way the universe is supposed to work, he and Crowley are hereditary enemies and should not even be friends, much less in love. Aziraphale expresses this core belief throughout the series. What kind of existence could they ever have together in reality?

The Final 15

With this as a background, we can better understand what Aziraphale experiences in the final 15 minutes. Even before the Metatron enters the scene, Aziraphale begins to have his fundamental beliefs challenged which puts him off his footing. The revelation that Gabriel and Beelzebub are in love is deeply impactful. When Beelzebub says “I just found something that mattered more to me than choosing sides” and takes Gabriel’s hand, Aziraphale immediately reaches out to make contact with Crowley, a look of incredulity on his face. Here is proof that demons can feel love and that an angel and a demon can carve out a space together. The road may be difficult, but it is not impossible.

Before Aziraphale can digest this revelation the stakes are ratcheted up: Michael threatens to erase Aziraphale from the Book of Life due to his part in hiding Gabriel. The future that Aziraphale has just barely glimpsed is already under siege. It is at this point that The Metatron enters, offering Aziraphale not just survival and protection, but a version of everything he has ever wanted.

If Crowley is reinstated as an angel, Aziraphale will no longer have to wonder whether Crowley is capable of feeling love. And if they are both angels, there will be no conflict inherent in having a life together. In one fell swoop, the Metatron entices Aziraphale with a future where there are no remaining blockers to an eternal, loving existence with Crowley. It will be “like the old times, only even nicer” because they now have millennia of their shared history to build on together. Of course this logic is horribly flawed and does not take into account at all what Crowley wants, but in the moment it must feel like an enormous gift to Aziraphale.

Unfortunately, not only is Crowley’s reaction to this “incredibly good news” not what Aziraphale expects, the conversation quickly takes a baffling turn for him. Crowley shuts down the talk about returning to heaven and attempts to say what he wants to say. Sadly he once again utterly fails to speak in a way that Aziraphale can understand.

The audience knows what Crowley is trying to say because we have the context of his earlier conversation with Maggie and Nina. But Aziraphale lacks that and thus can’t understand where this is coming from or what it means. Rather than expressing his feelings as Beelzebub and Gabriel did, Crowley recites facts: we’ve known each other a long time, we’ve been on this planet a long time, I could always rely on you, you could always rely on me. He can’t even say the word “couple” when he describes them, referring to them more as colleagues with words like “team” and “group.” And the one time he does try to express his feelings and desires he is physically unable to get out the words: “And I would like to spend—.” He then retreats into his old plea to turn away from heaven and hell and run off together. Nowhere in Crowley’s confession does Aziraphale hear “I love you” or even “I want to be with you.” What he hears instead is what he’s heard multiple times before - Crowley wants to abandon both heaven and hell and default to just the two of them. From Aziraphale’s perspective this will not solve anything for them. They will still be an angel and a demon, at some level fundamentally separated by their very natures.

Having failed in his speech, Crowley then does two things in rapid succession that must be excruciatingly painful for Aziraphale. First, he does the opposite of verbal affirmation by calling Aziraphale an idiot. We have seen Aziraphale become physically radiant in the rare instances where Crowley has praised him, so a direct insult like this must feel poisonous. Then Crowley makes a last desperate attempt to communicate through Aziraphale’s other love language - physical touch - by initiating the kiss. But without context or understanding of what is behind it, Aziraphale can initially only experience it as forceful, angry, and shocking. With more time to parse it I think Aziraphale will come to understand Crowley’s meaning, but in the moment it must feel manipulative and borderline cruel.

The Results

In a very compressed time frame, Aziraphale has to move quickly and radically through multiple mental and emotional states. For 6000 years he has believed he and Crowley cannot be together. Suddenly, with the revelation of Gabriel and Beezlebub, that foundational belief is challenged. Before he can work through what that could mean for him and Crowley, the Metatron offers an even cleaner solution - they can be protected from retribution and be on the same side again. When Crowley rejects reinstatement wholesale, it makes Aziraphale feel that he and his loving offer of a life together have been personally rejected. Then that rejection is further confused through the shocking experience of the kiss which Aziraphale does not have adequate context for or time to understand and integrate. In his emotional turmoil, Aziraphale falls back on his default crutch for dealing with sadness and anger - forgiveness - which further cuts him off from Crowley. Taken all together, this is a tumultuous rollercoaster of whiplash emotions that pull at every part of Aziraphale's self- and world-views.

Compared to what Crowley is going through, I think Aziraphale is going to have the tougher road in Season 3. Crowley may still need to better reconcile and integrate his feelings for Aziraphale, but Aziraphale has 6000 years of foundational ideology to challenge and evolve to reach a place where he and Crowley can be together as their authentic selves.

[buggachat]

Honestly I think my take on the "Chat Noir was not there in the final battle" comes down to the fact that I kind of just don't think a satisfying final battle between Chat Noir and Monarch was actually possible.

I read a lot of fic, for example, and I've read the scenario play out a lot of times in a ton of ways and I've never been fully convinced of it tbh (and not because they weren't great fic!!). It seems just completely traumatic for Adrien in a way that the scenario inherently cannot properly focus on, because it's all happening in the middle of an action scene and Adrien is too busy being Mid-Battle to properly have a cathartic breakdown about it all. I mean, Chat Blanc already showed us what would happen if he did have a breakdown mid-battle (and why wouldn't he?). And though it'd be fun to have a big triumphant moment of him defeating his abusive father, Adrien simply isn't a character who would find that scenario triumphant, or cathartic, or anything other than viscerally traumatic.

Also, I agree that it's unfair that Chat Noir was not present— like it was unfairly tilted in Ladybug's favor— but I don't think it'd be fair if he was present, either. Because Marinette is, in fact, the main character. The main character whose character arc is primarily focused on her finding her footing as a hero and discovering all the responsibilities that come with that power (as opposed to Adrien, whose character arc is moreso about freedom and identity). And let's face it, in a fight between Ladybug and Chat Noir and Monarch, nobody would be focused on Ladybug at all. It's not about her. It's not her fight. She'd just be there as moral support and an extra set of hands, which really doesn't work for her character arc at all and is completely unfair to her!

Basically, it would just be Chat Noir temporarily acting as the main character and having the worst time of his life in the most un-cathartic battle for him possible left completely traumatized with Ladybug in the background awkwardly trying to comfort him after the fact? And then the season ends? And then the next season presumably goes back to Ladybug being the main character? After a time-skip to the new school year? It's just an ending that I feel like is a lot better in theory than actually on paper. And you can probably make an argument for ways that it could be made to work, where it would enhance Ladybug's story in a meaningful way where she still feels like the main character, and would somehow be triumphant for Chat Noir despite it probably being the worst moment of his life, and somehow not make the rest of the series following feel like bonus content as opposed to a continuation of the story...... but, I dunno. I think it's a lot easier said than done.

The fact of the matter is, I've always been waaayyyy more interested in how the aftermath of Gabriel's defeat affects Adrien than the battle itself. Post-Hawkmoth defeat is one of my favorite types of fic for a reason, and it's because the aftermath can be so juicy, especially for Adrien as a character. I think whether or not Adrien is actually there in the battle itself has always been kind of irrelevant to me, because no matter how Gabriel is defeated, his defeat will have immense repercussions on Adrien's life going forward. And the way they did it, Marinette is now a part of it in a more active way, too. Which is good for her character!

( Also, if he was there to triumphantly defeat Gabriel, would that mean he would just.... watch his father die? of cataclysm? a-and.... nathalie would just.... die, too? so he'd have three dead parents after all that? who he watched all die (or, in emilie's case, saw her corpse)? or is this a scenario where MONARCH BEATS CHAT NOIR and still makes the wish? is that cathartic? for Adrien to lose to Gabriel? Frankly, I loved seeing Gimmi and The Wish, it's been teased for so long that I was expecting it, and I loved the fact that Nathalie got to live as her narrative reward for coming to her senses and trying to murder Gabriel with a crossbow. I like that we got to watch a full season of Gabriel painfully dying to a cataclysm— poetically inflicted on him by Adrien, but of Gabriel's own doing. I like that Nathalie has presumably adopted Adrien after having an arc of her trying to be a parent to him once she realized nobody else would, that's so much more interesting than any other alternative. I just don't see how all of these things, some of my favorite things that season 5 gave, can still all exist at once with Chat Noir present in the final battle in any way that's satisfying. )

[kaivenom]

The SPN boys perfect date with you

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Gabriel "The Trickster", Jack Kline, Castiel

A/N: for the first time on a long time writing something that isnt one piece😂. The anime and the manga are on pause and i am crying🥲

Masterlist

Sam Winchester

Probably a date at home, ordering food and watching movies with you, the while cozy treatment.

Picking you Up at your home and ordering the take away on some restaurat, picking a cofee and getting to the bunker with you.

Eating while watching bad movies, anything you want to see and laughing cause It's probably a bad horror movie.

Reading in silence with your bodies entaged and sharing little mischevious looks.

And of course, at some point you start to make out and now you are trapped with him, una le to go back home.

Dean Winchester

Riding with baby, no doubt.

Like Sam, he orders some food with you, but instead of going to the bunker, he gets you to a nice and calm spot, far from society and organize a picnic on top of the impala.

If the weather it's good, there IS probably a river or lake near by to swim.

If the weather it's bad you stay inside the impala, eating and playing cards,

And like Sam, he can get a little to much needy and even if you are outside on the lake or inside the impala, he Will start to make out with you and you Will end Up getting frisky on the backseat.

Castiel

Probably at first he doesnt get the concept of date s he follows you with your daily routines.

Now, that he knows what a deate IS, he realizes that his perfect date with you it's the thing that you already had been doing, rutinal things.

Such as cleaning and shopping groceries, anything that helps you with your chores.

And usually, this "dates" end up with a tender moment wich usually is a warm Bath.

So its just the two of you, rubbing each other rubing your sore bodies.

With a slow music playing on the background, bubbles, music and even some wine.

Gabriel "The Trickster"

A party, a buffet, even a brothel, since he can make every scenario posible, everything it's the perfect date, cause It IS with you.

So, you get to choose the when and the where, cause he can materialize It in any second.

He just wants to make you laugh and have a good time, even if it's with the most bizarre or the most common things, i picture this man as a total pleaser.

But, the two things that he Will do no matter what it's eat sweets and feed you with them.

It's his nly condition to make the evening perfect, have you on his lap and put a Candy on your tongue, maybe with his mouth.

Jack Kline

A carnival or a amusement park.

He still has the soul of a child so his perfect date would circle around fun.

Eating pop corn, playing minigolf, trying to win everything on the booths, you still don't know where he got the money,

If he makes you laugh then the night IS a good one.

He finishes the night with a kiss on your doorstep, he saw that on a movie and wanted to try It.

[dadvans]

when I want to run away (I drive off in my car) [bucktommy]

Chimney comes over with an armful of DVDs. Mandated brother-in-law break-up bonding time. Buck is pretty sure that isn’t a thing, at least not the kind that Chimney seems to be suggesting with what are discernibly all romcom titles. Buck is pretty sure Chimney should be taking him out and getting him wasted and encouraging him to get laid, but then again he’s friends with Tommy too so there might be some allegiance at play here.

He groans when Chimney puts on Say Anything.

“What, you actually know a movie made before 2012?”

“Tommy loves this one,” Buck replies. There had been a showing at repertory cinema in July and Tommy had dragged them both to escape the afternoon heat. It had been… sweet. There had maybe been three other people in the place who ignored them in the back row, making out like teenagers.

“Yeah, he’s always been a secret softie,” Chimney says.

“I’d say you should be over at his place with these,” Buck continues, flipping through the titles. Love Actually. The Proposal. Crazy, Stupid, Love. “These are actually his favorites. Wait, was I your second choice?”

“What? No,” Chimney says, but he sounds kind of cagey about it.

“He’s probably too busy cliff diving or BASE jumping.” Buck drops the DVDs. “He was the one who dumped me, remember? I don’t think he’s too hung up to need a chick flick movie marathon.”

“Now that is not true. Secret softie, remember? He’s hurting as much as I’ve ever seen, he just doesn’t wear it on his sleeve like some people.” Chimney gives him a very pointed look. “I bet he stood outside your door a half hour after he left hoping you’d chase after him, feeling like a total idiot.”

That’s new. “Did he tell you that?”

Chimney shrugs. “Maybe not verbatim, but he may have let something slip in a moment of total weakness.”

Buck snorts. “So, what are you doing over here with me and these then?”

“I was maybe hoping I could inspire you into some of your usual Buck heroics,” Chimney admits, then has the gall to look offended when Buck twists to stare at him, confused. “What? I’m a meddler. I notoriously meddle. C’mon, he said some things he wishes he could take back, but maybe he’s not as confident as you give him credit for. He’s a romcom guy. He could use a little woo-ing too, you know. Someone who makes him feel like he’s worth fighting for. A big gesture! Not—not moving in or anything, but just—you see what I’m saying here?”

Buck stares at young John Cusack paused on his TV screen and smiles to himself. “Yeah, I think I might.”

He spends the rest of the day off his couch driving through half the pawn shops in Glendale before he finds himself, sun setting at his back, outside Tommy’s house. He parks between Tommy’s truck in the drive and walks down the sidewalk where Tommy’s kitchen window is lit up and open.

Tommy comes outside thirty seconds later to the sound of Peter Gabriel blasting out of the second hand stereo Buck’d finally found with an aux input at St. Vincent de Paul’s. His mouth twitches as he crosses his arms before he coughs and tucks his head down, briefly.

“Really?” He asks when he blinks back up at Buck, eyes wet like the last time Buck saw him: hope there, fleeting, wanting so badly to swim to the surface and stay. “Wait, did you plug your phone into that thing?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, loud enough over the music the whole neighborhood can probably hear him. “I don’t know how to burn CDs.”

Tommy’s smile finally cracks through, and he nods before taking several careful steps across his dead lawn, feet bare, so he can get two tentative hands on Buck’s hips. “Well, if you want to come inside,” he says, “I can show you.”