#azi's bs

[mentally-a-slut]

this is not a drill, through out my seemingly endless flare up of my multitude of illnesses, i have returned to my roots of aphmau's mcd and mystreet. i am obsessed. i want to grab these minecraft men by the face and smooch them to death.

they are all i can think about. i am having daydreams about writing fic for them. these stupid fucking block men are ruining my life once again.

someone please stop me before i start yet another full length fanfic about them PLEASE HELP ME.

[mentally-a-slut]

LITERALLY MY OC GIRL LMAO

This is well trod territory for the sdv fandom but,,, farmer is just NOT human, farmer “spends 10 hours fishing, scarfs down 15 pieces of seaweed and gifts you a raw egg out of their pocket” is NOT FUCKING HUMAN!!! That is a little FREAK. Pretending to be human.

And that freak is me and I love this little fictional me

[mentally-a-slut]

thinking about writing a slice of life mystreet fic and by thinking about i mean drafting it up rn anyone interested?

[patoslover]

This is oooold very old art of Aziraphale, one of my first attempts at drawing him EVER, it was inspired by the song Baby Hotline by Jack Stauber :)

I quite liked the concept so here's a little redraw.. lol I haven't touched MSPaint in a long timee

*the little text on the side says: "this is Michael Sheen after reading the divorce/final fifteen™ scene in the script and coming out (haha i'm so funny-) with the most feral/unhinged way to act it*.". *causing us all (the fandom) to die of heartbreak... Probably.. I can't be the only one... Right?

I think I see some improvement, there's some things I could do better in the redrawn vers but I'm too tired rn

I did both drawings from memory so there may be major mistakes anyway ye

Also I wish all

Gomens fans

a very

✨Have a pleasant thinking about the first February 14th after the Divorce™ ✨

(it was two days ago and I keep thinking, oh Go- Someone, I keep thinking)

Anywy bye

[dining-and-pining]

What if in season 3 we get dark!Crowley, but it's just him in a leather jacket, smoking cigarettes and lying to Aziraphale about all the evil deeds he's been doing recently

[tethrarisms]

saying people should die over a fictional ship is terminally online mentality. plz speak to real queer people instead of basing your entire personality on an amazon show that doesnt show queer pda because of homophobia.

If this is about that post exposing those two transphobic and aroacephobic Good Omens blogs, then lemme make myself clear to you. I never said people should d word because of a ship. I said those two accounts are extremely transphobic and exclusionist. And for being shitty TERFs, they should definitely d word :)

More than that, I don't feel like going holier-than-thou christian guilt when a hate group is against the entire existence of minorities, thanks.

On top of that, If you're mad about the tv show's DELIBERATE lack of queer representation (to you), there's always OFDM and WWDITS. That is, if you're not mad about Jim being non-binary but not saying it with all the letters, or the fact that it took three seasons for Guillermo to come out as gay despite the deliberate sexual tension between him and Nandor. Ah, and the fact that Jemaine stated all the vampires are pansexual but I don't think it's good enough for you, is it? I was also going to recommend Sandman but you think Neil is homophobic despite 90% of the characters being queer :/

In conclusion: you're hilarious. "Speak to real queer people."

I'm a real queer person myself and I definitely talk to people who touch grass. Not a single of them is mad about pda in Good Omens. Actually, we all love it and see ourselves in Azi and Crowley and the kind of relationship they have 💜 That's a you problem, actually.

Happy second season! It looks so promising, I can't wait 💜

[minervas-hand]

Right to fear, wrong to believe

Just had a horrible realization and needed to meta it out.

How different they were before Edinburgh, when Crowley was sucked down into Hell.

Look at this flirty babygirl in the Bastille:

I mean could he climb that tree any faster?

(This is why I really like fics that place a more physical relationship here, pre-Bastille or just post-Bastille, because c'mon look at them. )

In S1 the next thing is 1862 and Crowley asking for insurance (with a cane ffs). And Aziraphale freaking out with his "fraternizing" BS. It's jarring, until we get 1827 filled in for us in S2.

@takeme-totheworld notes in this post:

Crowley sure went from "our respective head offices don't actually care how things get done" and "nobody ever has to know" to "walls have ears" FAST after Edinburgh. And Aziraphale went from looking at Crowley with hearts in his eyes to "I've been FrAtErNiZiNg" just as quickly. I'm more convinced than ever that Edinburgh was the first time Crowley ever actually got caught and punished for fucking around with Aziraphale/doing good deeds/whatever it was they yanked him back down to Hell for, and it scared the absolute shit out of both of them and changed the whole tone of their relationship after that.

Yes! - it's clear to me as well that the Edinburgh graveyard was a very bad turning point, where they both saw that Hell was listening and would intervene. And it did change their relationship drastically, for over a century and a half (really, until looming Armageddon loosened up the stakes for them).

But what about Heaven?

See the thing is, we know Azi's been worried about Heaven watching him for the past 6000 years.

But they haven't.

[GIFs posted by starrose17]

All this time, and Heaven had not seen them together. Hadn't noticed. Had not even LOOKED.

I want to mention what @starrose17 says about this here in this post:

What I love about this is her choice of words, “went back through the Earth Observation files.” This implies that these photos were already filed somewhere meaning somebody had to have been watching them which meant somewhere in the depths of the bureaucratic heaven there’s an underpaid angel clerk tasked with watching angels on Earth, and he’s been hording photos of his favourite Angel/Demon couple not reporting them to Michael because he wants to see what happens.

And that's exactly what this fic covers!: Spying Omens by @ednav

(Give this a read, it's fabulous.)

While I am here for this being exactly how that happens, the other scenario is colder and worse - there's no one watching, at all. It's just filing automatically and never seen until some Scrivener is called to pull a file.

From @fuckyeahisawthatat's comment here :

I found this scene to be quite chilling, actually. Not only is the idea of Heaven as a surveillance state brilliant (way to make “God is always watching” sound way more ominous) but this is exactly how modern surveillance states work. They don’t actively watch everybody all the time. That’s not physically possible for humans, and even if it is metaphysically possible for Heaven, it’s not a very efficient use of resources. Surveillance states watch people they deem “suspicious.” And once you’ve been put in the category of “suspicious,” they have massive amounts of data that they can comb through to collect a lot of information about you–to retroactively build a case justifying why you’re suspicious, to collect information about where you go and who you associate with, etc.

Yes.

So we either have secret collusion in the rank and file, or we have a surveillance state that is constantly reinforced to its subjects for fear's sake, for control.

(Well, it obviously could be both.)

BUT my point is… Up until Edinburgh, Hell has not been watching (or caring at least). And up until near the end of Armageddon't, neither has Heaven.

Oh, my poor Angel. Thousands of years, of denying yourself, of pushing Crowley away, of carrying around a tension that is it's own constellation.

After 1827 you might have reason, but for the 5000+ years before that?

Thousands of years and Heaven was not watching nor cared.

You were right to fear. And you were wrong to believe.

And that just breaks my heart.

[badaziraphaletakes]

Lest you think this BS is confined to the fandom

…You literally said "Aziraphale shouldn't have 'accepted' the Metatron's 'offer'" AND "After all, heaven is violent and retaliatory" in the same paragraph and didn't see the contradiction!!!

Like, it didn't occur to you that the same forces that could force Azi to stay in heaven ALSO MEANT HE WAS FORCED TO GO BACK?!?

I just... oh my god.

And this is a "professional" entertainment outlet that wrote this.

Terrifying.

[mentally-a-slut]

insert purring noises here

i have something inappropriate to say

[alexina-bucket]

I just finished good omens (the series) yesterday and ohmygodddd

SPOILERS FOR GOOD OMENS BELOW! (Obviously)

This is also really long... I apologize

The entire time I was thinking about how stanarrator they are.

I can't decide who would be who but I think I'm leaning towards Stanley being more Crowley...

I might be making an au/crossover for this, I love good omens so much and if I don't do something with it and tsp I think I'll explode

My drawings have been looking absolutely horrible so I won't draw this for at least a while most likely but I wanted to put my ideas here :3

The last episode (Neil Gaiman I'm never forgiving you for leaving me on this cliffhanger that broke my heart and make me wait two years for season 3.) where azi is having trouble leaving heaven due to him not realizing his feelings fully and being loyal as an angel, he loves peace. Crowley can see the BS behind it and how heaven and hell shouldn't be and they should be free. He wanted to just be with him like he's wanted for so long. This is pretty similar to my stanarrator.

Neil is very conflicted by his love for stanley because he's a god of sorts (I haven't decided what species to make him, but it'll probably be one of my own creation. It's complicated...) and he needs to narrate. It's the only reason he exists. He was created with the soul purpose to narrate, he built the story, was made for it, all of that. He wouldn't want to leave the story, and it took many many years of him and Stanley pretty much sneaking their relationship on the side for him to decide to stop narrating longer term to marry him and be with him. Stanley realized his love for Neil earlier then narrator did, but he was pretty conflicted. They're on opposite sides, narrator and protagonist, angel and demon if you will. He was supposed to hate the other side, supposed to fight against him, not love him. He has hatred for him but can't help but fall in love. (Haha Crowley fell from heaven and then fell for someone in heaven get it get it get it I'm so funny) and despite this being odd and kind of stereotypical au for tsp blab blah blah when neil completed his human form and showed Stanley, stan had too many conflicting feelings to know exactly what to do. At first he got filled with rage and punched Neil, and then he felt a sense of regret because after all this is the man he was in love with. He took a moment of Neil staring at him and about to yell while yellow was slowly dripping from his nose, but then grabbed him by the collar of his coat and pulled him down to kiss him. There were too many feelings and he needed to get some out, he also craved touch from being deprived of it for so long. The kiss didn't last long but Neil didn't really know what to do but closed his eyes because his human body told him to and his hands kind of grabbed Stanley's arms awkwardly. Stanley pulled back after a moment.

This is pretty similar to that scene in the show, especially with the two sides and yada yada. I really really want to draw this but

1: I can't draw either azi or Crowley

2: all my drawings have looked horrible and I can't draw

3:I also can't draw wings well and I really wanna do that

Also I want to make this an au and write it but I have 11 tsp fics in progress (I'm insane) and I'm also trying to write my "prediction" thats definitely biased of me loving gays being happy and trying to write season 3 before it comes out because that's far too long for me to wait without some kind of sustenance. So... You can guess it'll take a long time for me to get around to finishing it if I do start it.

I highly doubt anyone has read any of this/all of it but if you did hello thank you I'm gonna give you buckets now

[nahoney22]

OMG HI! 🤩 Are you taking writing commissions?! Can I be added to a commission waiting list if you have one for a soft-pining between Plo-Koon and a Jedi!Reader? I’m talking like fluffiest fluff you can muster! Maybe them being like parents to their battalions! The forbidden attraction because of old Jedi rules 🥺

P.S: You are so right! None of this bs wouldn’t have happed if he didn’t bite the dust 😭

Forbidden

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Plo Koon X GN!JediReader

word count: 2.6k

Both being the greatest Jedi they can be to their Battalion, it’s no surprise that the kindness shared between you both brings you closer and maybe just maybe, makes things a little risky.

warnings: none, fluff! Minor mention of injury & death to Clones, forbidden romance trope, mutual pining. Ngl, not overly proud of this as I feel it’s a little rushed and messy. It was better in my head. I’m losing my touch.

Masterlist

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

The Medbay was often a horrible place for any person or sentient to visit and no matter how many visits General Plo attends, it is never any easier.

The last mission was a success but with so many casualties. His respect for his Battalion grows each passing second and has come to care about each man individually but at what cost? Another win yet it seemed like they were no step closer to beating the Separatist threat.

“I am here for CC-3636.” Plo speaks to one of the droids that maintained care for those who were taken in, hating using his Commander's designated number rather than his preferred name.

“Right this way. His condition is stable.”

Plo stays silent, walking down the painfully white halls of the Kaminoan facility towards one of the bays. Though deep in his thoughts, something stops him.

As if something had shoved on his chest and commanded him to stop, his head turned to look into an empty room. Well, aside from two beings in the right hand corner.

There’s a clone on the bed, no colour to their armor aside from the stark white and shiny new armor and a presence beside them. Their back was to him but he was certain that they were Jedi. That Jedi being you, someone who he still has not been formally introduced to though he had heard things. Many great things in fact.

Slowly, he turns and looks into a room opposite, busier than the others but still no other Jedi present. If he were to hazard a guess, he would confirm that the only two Jedi here were just the pair of you. All these men injured, yet it seemed that only you two had cared.

He sighs to himself, knowing he should not think ill of the other Jedi as he was well aware that most have care for their troops but clearly, maybe just not as much as him and yourself.

“Just this way Master Jedi.” The AZI droid speaks up, snapping Plo out of his doubting thoughts and proceeds to move on along. But as he leaves, you look over your shoulder and feel a shift in the Force. A Jedi was present and although curious to who it could be, you focus on your trooper and wait for him to wake up.

———-

“Anakin is growing stronger and courageous each day though I fear there is conflict within him.” Obi-Wan speaks softly as he walks alongside Plo.

The Kel Dor sensed his friend and colleagues troubles and opted to walk with him and try to clear his mind. “Your padawan is headstrong and a fine Jedi. Little Soka is becoming the ideal Jedi too because of him. Trust in him Obi-Wan and soon you will see everything will play out smoothly.”

Walking out into the courtyard, conversation changing to something more cheerful rather than Obi-Wan’s worrying woes, the two of them took in the calming air.

“Ah, look who is over there.” Kenobi points to the center of the courtyard, over by The Great Tree.

Plo looks in the direction and as if by an instant, he recognised you to be the Jedi on Kamino a few rotations ago. Your robes were breezing around your body, a content expression on your face.

“You haven’t met them yet, have you?” Kenobi asks, already getting ready to walk on over but like before, something pushed against him and his feet find their way walking over to you.

“No.” He answered him.

“Well, let me introduce you.”

Kenobi says your name aloud, catching your attention and as you turn, there’s a strange feeling in the Kel Dor’s stomach. He had not expected you to appear so youthful as you appeared wise beyond your years.

“General, what do I owe the pleasure?” You smile warmly to your friend, eyes flickering between the human male and then to Kel Dor beside him.

“Nothing at all, just thought I would introduce you to Master Plo Koon. I don’t think you two have worked together.”

When you look at him your eyes are full of intrigue and interest as you bore into the mask on his face. “No, I don’t believe we have.” You take a step closer and extend a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

His hands or talons so to speak, reach out to you and gently clutches at the softness of your skin. His touch is surprisingly warm and enough to send chills down your arms but luckily, your robes hid the bumps. When he says your name you feel an odd sensation. A sensation as if you would want him to repeat it over and over again.

“And you. I see you find calmness in The Great Tree?” He pulls his arm back, digits leaving yours and you try to ignore how cold you suddenly felt. What was happening? Were you feeling unwell? You push the thoughts back for the time being and focus back on his question.

“Yes, I find it beautiful.” You say softly, turning to look at the leaves that bristled in the soft wind. “We’re definitely lucky to have one in our midst due to its rarity.”

There was something about you that Plo was fascinated by. Your voice was a soft and calming presence and there seemed to be no heavy grief on your shoulders. He was internally thankful that Kenobi had parted ways with you both and took the opportunity to get to know you more.

Respectfully, he had asked of your homeworld and family and listened with great interest at whatever you had to say. You also made sure to include him too and would ask questions about how the war is fairing for him and if he had any worries which reminded him:

“If you recall, I remember seeing you on Kamino though I didn’t make myself known.” He begins to walk alongside you and as you take small and slow steps, his large ones go down to a minimum.

At least the question in your mind of which Jedi had seen you that day was answered and a small smile crept onto your lips. “I thought I felt a spectre close by. You have a very warm presence in the Force.” Although you spoke calmly, there was no denying that there was a small hesitance in your mind and sincerely hoped you had not said anything too outrageous after just meeting him.

“That is kind of you to say.” He nods, genuinely appreciating your gentle words. “I hope that trooper you were seeing made a full recovery?”

“Oh yes,” you smile softly “Jammy, as I so named him, has made a speedy recovery. He got badly wounded on our last mission and I really thought he wouldn’t make it out this time.”

“This time?”

You roll your eyes a little playfully. “Hence the name. He’s been in that Medbay more times than I can count. He’s a lucky one.”

Plo smiles, noticing how affectionate you are when it comes to talking about the Clones. It was a nice relief to see one having respect for them after all they do for the GAR. It was rather refreshing.

“Who were you going to see?” You turn your head to look up at him. He chuckles softly and tells you about Wolffe, a trust Commander and the name just so happens to ring a bell.

“Wolffe,” you repeat his name, pausing, “I don’t suppose he is the Commander of the 104th? Making you their General?”

“Yes, why do you ask?” He stops with you and you find yourself blushing as you notice just how close he stood beside you, slowly moving to stand in front.

“I believe that I am joining you and your entourage in the next following days, on Aleen?” You ask hopefully and that strange sudden hope that you had was a little dangerous.

He hums a small chuckle but shakes his head. “Not me, but I’m sure my men will be a great addition in my absence.”

You tried to not look disappointed but the way he tilts his head at you makes you think that maybe he knew. “I’ll be happy to work with them, General.”

“Please,” he says softly and with enough grace places a hand to your shoulder, “call me Plo.”

————-

The relationship you had with Plo only grew from then on. Coincidentally (or not) the two of you would often find yourselves walking the halls of the Temple together but there was something not quite right.

Just now, your conversation with Plo was innocent and had you both laughing but as you passed a small group of maybe three members of the order, they were eyeing you both up suspiciously. At first you thought nothing of it but the stares lingered and then whispers would begin. You wondered if Plo had seen it too but for now, he said nothing.

When he walked you to your room, there was a small moment just outside your door. You were wishing him a restful sleep but the Kel Dor, almost unnaturally reached out and gently pushed a strand of hair away from your face. Your eyes widen, a blush creeping up your neck and you thank him quietly. He smiles a little and nods his head. “Sleep well, little one.”

The nickname was new and Maker it made you feel airy and light.

A week or two had passed and your heart that had been so full was heavy. You were back on Kamino and your chest tightened as you watched the AZI droids cover not one, not two but at least seven of your men with white sheets. The mission, although successful, left a sour taste in your mouth as you stayed in the Medbay, overlooking your fallen troops.

When the door behind you hissed open however, just by the thought of being with someone who you knew to be Plo, your emotions took over. You raised a hand to your face and quickly swept away a stray tear, turning to face your friend.

“Afternoon Plo.”

Although you could not see it, there is grief behind the mask as he crosses the threshold to you. “Come, little one… let us find somewhere else to talk.”

The nickname would have been lovely if not for the environment but alas you listened and followed after him with your head bowed. For the first time in a while, you both walked in silence until he found a quiet room for you both to sit in.

He gestures to a spot beside him and as you sit, you let out a heavy sigh.

“Your thoughts are wild and understandably so. Is there anything I can do to give you comfort?” His modulated voice was soft and gentle, just like the man he was. You knew that he knows just how hard losing men can be and it never gets any easier. For you, you make bonds with your men. Attachments so to speak, something forbidden within the Order. The thought of being careless to them made you angry and you knew some Jedi would not bat an eyelid. So as your fists tighten by your sides, there is no surprise that Plo had gently taken one of your hands and whispered, “At ease, they wouldn’t want to see you upset.”

That afternoon, you didn’t say much but you didn’t need to. Plo stayed by your side and as you felt yourself getting weary, he had let you rest upon his shoulder, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

Another week passed and another week of your feelings being a mangled mess. It was clear now that feelings had started to bloom between yourself and Plo. On your part, anyway. There is conflict within you and something tells you to back away and get a hold of yourself but that was a little impossible to do when your men had made jokey passing comments to you.

“What was that Trooper?” You turn to him with an amused gleam in your eyes, glad to see how at ease they were with you when he replies if you’re thinking about going to see the ‘Wolfpacks dad’. You snorted, dismissing him playfully but there was something in the back of your mind that was tickling your senses. Was it obvious to them that there was something there? Is that why the Jedi had been keeping a watchful eye on you both. Surely if they knew, Plo would know. This piques your curiosity even more.

That evening, you had decided to stay away from Plo purely because you did not understand these feelings yourself yet. Though, naturally, you both found yourselves in each other’s company.

You’re along one of the balconies back in the Temple when Plo had arrived.

“I didn’t think you would be here.” His voice made you jump a little, your mind so deep in force you didn’t even sense his overpowering presence.

“And why is that?” You poke at his thoughts as he stands beside you, overlooking the city below.

“This is where I often come to ponder my thoughts - something I find myself doing a lot more lately.”

Your body gets tingly at his words, heart racing a little faster. This could either be a good thing, a bad thing, or both. “Something on your mind?”

He stays silent for a few moments, his thoughts conflicted for the first time in a while. He was often quick, wise and brave but he felt the opposite now. Especially with you by his side.

“It is more someone than it is something.”

There it was. You just knew it was about you, or so you certainly had hoped unless he has someone else in his life he has kept quiet about. Words can not even string together but luckily, he does the talking. “My men, they like to talk shall we say about our relationship.”

You freeze. Relationship? Was there even one aside from friendship? “I see.”

Plo looks down at the railing, seeing your hands nervously strum along it and hoping he had read the last few rotations correctly, he quietly placed his hand over yours, talons very gently caressing into your warm skin. “Is this okay little one?” He whispers in your ear and you shudder a small gasp before nodding.

“Plo, what if someone sees us?”

“I must admit I am point the past of caring. I can not help who I admire, and that is you little one.” Plo is watching you carefully but when a small smile flicks onto your lips and your turn to face him, you carefully rest your hand upon his.

“Me too,” you sigh softly, “but I fear this may impact our place in the Order.”

Gently, his other hand comes down to your waist and turns you to face him fully. His hand leaves yours and places it to the side of your face as he looks adoringly into your eyes. “Like I said, I am past the point of caring. I can not stand to believe that we are to shut ourselves out of anything and not be deemed as a Jedi. I trust you feel the same?”

Without hesitation, you fall into his chest. Arms wrapping around his lean and tall frame, Plo wastes no time in reciprocating the gesture. “Of course I feel the same Plo… ever since I met you I could not help but-.”

“Fall for one another.” He finishes off for the both of you.

You’re both elated, glad that the mutual feelings were out in the open but for what is to happen next is uncertain. But what you both did know is that you would both pick one another over any stupid rule. Together, you will treat your own men with the love and dignity they deserve and if yours has to be a secret, so be it.

As long as you’re with him.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Masterlist

tags: @s1st3r @buddee @taskfork-archive @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @adriiibell @theroguesully @equalityforcats @rexandechosandwich @mustluvecho @inagalaxywickedfahaway @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @chxpsi @alexandrisonfire @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 7 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @by-the-primes @torchbearerkyle @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo o @therealnekomari @a-c-lee @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory @mylifeinthetardisforever @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @lucyysthings @agenteliix

[251-dmr]

Uncomfortable Ramifications

As a separate follow-up to my post about my perceived disparity between the actions and their results of the alarms in heaven and the apology dance, I'm going to try to describe - as if it isn't obvious - why these are so scary to try and resolve. And this is coming from someone who is all-but onboard with the possibility that there are two realities (for want of a better word). And/or that things are so very out of order. Or overlapping...or something!

So, yeh, I'm just going to put myself out here for ridicule and pity. But I think I will feel better just to get it out of my brain and out there.

If we I try to put the bright flash of light in heaven with the Jim-hiding miracle, that puts Crowley in two places at the "same" time... but at two supposed different chronological times (????): performing the miracle with Azi AND being in heaven with Muriel and Saraqael, which is supposed to be during the demon attack. WTH?

In my post comparing the different Arrivals, I asked about this:

As for those trumpets...what? Why are we hearing trumpets? I know we hear them in S1E4 after they beat up Aziraphale and that was to signal that Armageddon was starting.

If the trumpets that Azi hears in the music shop with Maggie in E2, are when Crowley and the angels return to earth as a result of Azi blowing up his halo and nearly declaring war on hell, rather than the "hiding Gabriel" inquiry...well, that obviously puts Azi in two places at the same...different...time. WTF?

As an aside, if the trumpets really correspond to Michael, Uriel, and Saraqael simply going to earth, to the bookshop, to inquire about Gabriel, that seems to contradict the Metatron's desire (order?) to explicitly NOT raise any alarms about Gabriel's disappearance.

SARAQUEL: Right. I can't… I can't find his memory anywhere. In fact, I can't find him in the building. He's left Heaven. Should I sound an alert? METATRON: Oh, don't be so wet. No, you're all just going to have to find him. That's all.

So, again, I ask, what's with the trumpets?

Anyway, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.

If the apology dance is for not returning to help defend the shop against the demons, that puts the demon attack before they even perform the miracle to hide Gabriel. Not to mention before the kiss and Azi's departure.

So even though the actions (e.g., the hiding miracle/halo explosion, and what warrants an apology dance) and their results feel out of proportion, trying to swap those around just makes things worse.

And, yes, I am very much aware what utter BS this must sound like. I get it.

My own brain hurts. It's just that I'm having a problem taking the chrono order that we've been shown without questioning it. On the other hand, perhaps I have no choice.

I hope I have given you all a good laugh. And maybe this post just needs to sink into obscurity. Yeh, probably for the best.

[mentally-a-slut]

all i have to say to this is YUMMYYYYY

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl. 

Unfortunately you were no different. 

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you. 

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover. 

But no. 

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel. 

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked. 

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday. 

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde. 

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest. 

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin. 

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either. 

And today was no different. 

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed. 

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others. 

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return. 

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s. 

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling. 

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way. 

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard. 

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better. 

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘ 

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself. 

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh. 

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “ 

You. 

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you. 

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks. 

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch. 

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away. 

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors. 

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you. 

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men. 

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged. 

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “ 

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours. 

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company. 

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both. 

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods. 

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little. 

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “ 

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away. 

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another. 

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette. 

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you. 

Someone was finally listening. 

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were. 

He blamed it on his fatigue. 

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been. 

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “ 

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked. 

“ Really? “ 

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours. 

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded. 

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded. 

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen. 

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him. 

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done. 

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were. 

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman. 

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank. 

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “ 

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool. 

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little. 

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “ 

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.  

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it. 

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “ 

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest.  His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment. 

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you. 

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “ 

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again. 

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice. 

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more. 

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating. 

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his. 

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless. 

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face. 

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “ 

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you. 

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which. 

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain. 

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch. 

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought. 

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt. 

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night. 

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly. 

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants. 

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous. 

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon. 

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted. 

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough. 

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now. 

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you. 

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water. 

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch. 

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them. 

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care. 

“ I ain’t like that “ 

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants. 

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison. 

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved. 

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw. 

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “ 

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were. 

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it. 

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did. 

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make. 

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance. 

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle 

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “ 

“ no “ 

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked. 

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him. 

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again. 

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you. 

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to. 

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs. 

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you. 

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other. 

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate. 

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew. 

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted. 

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired. 

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it. 

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him. 

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined. 

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips. 

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first. 

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars. 

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well. 

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair. 

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks. 

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “ 

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once. 

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell. 

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “ 

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra. 

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little. 

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers. 

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted. 

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips. 

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly. 

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “ 

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it. 

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back. 

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him. 

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “ 

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily. 

“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh. 

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might. 

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch. 

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm. 

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you. 

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing. 

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed. 

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him. 

“ god- oh god “ 

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “ 

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again. 

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there. 

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide. 

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it. 

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up. 

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours. 

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “ 

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you. 

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep. 

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked. 

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “ 

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word. 

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “ 

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans. 

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever. 

And then he came to his senses. 

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist. 

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours. 

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more. 

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers. 

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips. 

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least. 

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “ 

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more. 

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “ 

He sincerely hoped you would. 

[mentally-a-slut]

twenty thousand words into my poly charthur x oc fic, haven't even gotten to a kiss scene yet lol

in case anyone would like some details about the fic, it is a poly fic between my oc, charles, and arthur. they are all romantically involved, meaning charles and arthur are also dating. i will have eventual smut, but the development of their relationship and my character's story is the main focus. i have no real idea for the plot but i can tell you it won't follow canon, except for a few details. it's a fix-it fic, so no sadness allowed! i'm basically taking some details from the game and inserting them into the story, which is not going to follow the events of the game. (SPOILER IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT HAPPENS IN THE GAME I AM ABOUT TO TALK ABOUT SOME MAJOR EVENTS) arthur, kieran, and sean will live in this fic, that is one hundred percent guaranteed.

i'm gonna be honest, i have yet to finish the game myself but i know most major events of the game, like who lives and dies. the fic will likely be spoiler free, except maybe some tiny details. since it isn't really canon compliant, i wouldn't worry about spoilers.

the main focus for this fic is my oc, and this is really kind of a practice thing for me to improve my character writing and development. so if you aren't interested in learning about my oc, this fic will probably be a little less interesting. however, there will be plenty of character interactions and relationships (romantic and platonic.)

for example, my oc is sean's older sister, so they obviously have a relationship. she's going to develop close friendships with a few others, including sadie and kieran.

basically, if you like banter and character interactions with a sprinkle of filth and fluff, you'll like my fic!

i will post a teaser for it if there is enough interest, so please comment/reblog or even send in an ask expressing your interest and i will post it!

side note, if you want a post explaining more about my oc, i will very gladly do so! let me know <3

[goodomens-girlie]

I love good omens so here’s a costume analysis for our cuties

this is SEASON 1

Crowleys main color is black, obviously because he’s a demon. That’s not really what matters. Crowley has a very punky, rockstar style, usually appearing in vests and leather jackets/pants with some sort of belt. If he could be a rockstar in another life he would (preferably Freddie Mercury or Alex Turner). But this style also shows how outgoing crowley is compared to Aziraphale who usually appears in tight, layered silhouettes. Aziraphale’s style is almost the polar opposite of Crowley’s. Not only does Aziraphale only appear in white (cause he’s an angel if u didn’t know) but his style is extremely traditional. One thing about Aziraphale is he is incredibly consistent, Crowley on the other hand is known for being irrational, he literally asked Aziraphale for “insurance” out of nowhere cause he’s impulsive. We’ve seen Aziraphale in the exact same vest from the damn 1800s, my angel is consistent. Perhaps Aziraphale’s constant consistency of his wardrobe correlates with his fear of betraying the angels. If he remains in uniform, he shall remain trustworthy and true to his role (even though all the angels think he’s total bs). The best way a costume designer can show the audience a characters relationship is through accessories or colors. The accessory worn by Aziraphale and Crowley is a vest. Considering they’ve been going on dinner dates for over 6,000 years they’re bound to influence each other. While Aziraphale wears the same vest repeatedly (does Azi wash that??), Crowley changes his vests. This change in vests once again shows how more outgoing Crowley is, willing to change himself or things about it when he likes. We know Aziraphale is not one to go against the rules and regulations, as we’ve seen throughout the show, Crowley is. When Crowley doesn’t have his vest on is when he’s most vulnerable, the vest acts as his physical and emotional armor.

can I hear a wahoo?

ps: sorry if I misgendered Crowley and Aziraphale I don’t actually know how to refer to them.

[b-h-art]

Time for my take on the "I forgive you"

Azi was trying so hard to convince Crowley to come back and be an angel right???? but Crowley- he can never go back there, never go back to that innocent being he was before he fell

But aziraphale doesnt realise that. He does not realise the fact that crowley's innocence was taken by heaven. he doesnt realise that crowley can never go back to that point because he has seen what heaven truly is- a corporal bs and a total hypocrite- that his innocence was destroyed the second he felt his angelic status be ripped apart from him, damning him eternally. just because he asked a few questions. Azira thinks crowley's innocence was destroyed by all the demonic deed he did. He thinks crowley is a demon because of all the things hell has forced crowley to do, even when it was apparent crowley himself didnt really want to do all of those.

So, when he told crowley-in ep6- that he forgives him? He's saying that he forgives all of Crowley's demonic deeds. He still thinks that all that differentiates Crowley from an angel are his demonic deeds that he was forced to do. And that Aziraphale forgives all of those deeds. That Crowley's innocence does not have to fall away his faith does not need to be destroyed, because to Aziraphale, Crowley only became a demon when he fell and had to do hell's dirty works. That they can go back to the way things were before, and this was his final, last effort to make Crowley see that there still is a way.to ease it all, to be together ,as angels, creating stars, doing good, just like before. And so he says he forgives Crowley for all the demonic deeds he has done, that they shall not ever be brought up because he thinks if he can just pretend that Crowley was never a demon then they can go back to the way it was before, Crowley never had to loose his innocence doing hell's dirty work. But Crowley only ever lost his blind faith when he saw the merciless judgement of God. And even if Aziraphale forgives all the things he did as a demon, even if they pretend Crowley never had to belong to hell, it does not matter.

"Don't bother"