#he likes the finer things in life and that includes good food and knowing how to make it

[waitineedaname]

regarding tags on your last rb: i feel like ling burns water when he tries to cook but can also make a not half bad basic meal. i feel like these concepts coexist in him

I COULD SEE THAT TBH. during the camping trip from hell, he absolutely ruins several soups and is permanently removed from cooking duty, but then they end up having access to a real kitchen and he somehow pulls together a halfway decent stir fry and everyone is stunned

[immoralimmortals]

that's fair! there isn't terribly much naruto daemon stuff, much less akatsuki

it's just fun if everyone had a companion and other people could see how you treated the "other half to your soul"

adds perspective? humanizes? or demonizes??

what are all or any of your akatsuki's favourite deserts? yes, including sasori or any of the others who are Less Than Human Now -- they used to eat them didn't they?

unless they don't like desserts, haha

itachi probably judge them a little lol

Yeah, I can see what you mean. Puts a new twist on putting your heart on your sleeve.

Desserts! I love desserts and trying new flavors of things.

Akatsuki member's take on desserts:

Pain/Nagato: Not a dessert man. I can't imagine him enjoying sweets very much, especially if he's been chronically deprived of the finer things in life due to his upbringing. He won't turn you down if you offer him a nice slice of cake, but don't take it personally if he doesn't finish it.

Konan: Same as Nagato but not as bad. She likes mild flavors for her sweets. It can't be bursting with sugar, nor can it be so fruity and tart it might make your mouth pucker. I bet she'd enjoy matcha flavored things, like mochi or taffy.

Zetsu: Frankly I do not entirely know what this man(s) thinks of regular human food. Your palette is a bit fucked up if cold bodies are your favorite taste. That being said, I think the funniest option is if he really likes ladyfingers for the pun alone.

Tobi/Obito: I know it's canon he likes dango. That probably gives a good idea of where we can take these headcanons. I think while he appreciates finer flavors, he's a sort of "I'll take what I can get" kind of guy, especially as his Tobi persona. As Obito, you'd have to catch him dead before he'll let it be known he has midnight snacks on the regular.

Hidan: Kind of hard to imagine liking sweets. I don't think he hates them, but he associates them with being childish. He'd eat out of boredom and nothing else.

Kakuzu: Earthy, tea or coffee or floral flavors. Rose turkish delight or tiramisu or dark chocolate dipped coffee beans. Maybe taro or ube flavored things. Desserts are a treat and not a necessity, and one he prefers to savor on his own. Do not invite this man to your ice cream social. He will not come.

Deidara: Fruit. Citrus and raspberries and mango and other such sharply flavored things. He'd love the shit out of watermelon or blue raspberry jolly ranchers. It has to be bold for him to enjoy it, which is a blessing if you're around overly processed American brand candy. I bet he'd like bomb pops, name not even involved in that. You KNOW he'd be obsessed with pop rocks. He'd put that shit on ice cream to make it less boring like how a dad takes out a packet of hot sauce "for more flavor".

Sasori: He doesn't eat, so I think he'd be entirely into the visual/artistic aspect of desserts. Macarons are a good example, he'd really enjoy the painstaking work involved with making them perfect. I think he'd also enjoy cake and chocolate sculptures, but much more to critique than to thoughtlessly admire. He would take no offense to using fondant, rice crispies, or wood planks to keep that art piece together. Edibility is not a factor. He and Deidara would gravely injure one another over this.

Kisame: I bet he really would like popsicles and boba tea. Strikes me as a cold dessert kind of guy, has to be something refreshing. I think honeydew would be a flavor he'd go towards, maybe coconut or lime. I'd take this man out to the boardwalk this summer for sure to split a drink or a stick.

Itachi: A gourmand. He can taste anything and know not only the ingredients but their rough (if not precise) ratio. He can analyze food like a DNA scanner can hair on an FBI tv show. You know he'd win any cooking competition involving guessing flavors. Gordon Ramsay would fall in love with this man. I know canonically it's dango, but I think the funniest favorite dessert for him would be the shitty near straight up powder sugar chocolates you can buy for Halloween.

[vasa-boattours]

HWS Switzerland headcanons

Multilingual by default. Also speaks the language of his business partners fluently.

Speaks extra thick Schwyzerdütsch with Gilbert, Ludwig, and Roderich just because he can. Gradually elevates difficulty levels to Berndütsch if they seem to slowly understand the previous levels of Schwytzerdütsch

A lot of Norse countries get credit for surviving harsh winters but he's equally tough. Surviving in a mountainy region with drastic winters is tough work.

Survivalist to the max. MacGuyver's himself through any rural environment.

Good with animals, especially more "difficult to handle" farm animals, like goats, cows, and donkeys. Trains his shepheard dogs perfectly. Doesn't like horses though. Not sturdy enough and too much maintenance. Adores his wildlife, especially vultures.

Usually he doesn't like talking more personally to people but will hold an entire lecture on vultures and their significance in the ecosystem when prompted.

Also trains avalanche-rescue dogs.

Crafty in many departments: Can make his own food (from wheat to bread, milking to tasty aged cheese, etc.), expert forager, knits comfiest socks, hats, and sweaters, excellent first aid skills, expert woodworker, understands the physics of technology in extreme weather conditions, knows how to handle animals (wild or domestic), can fix almost any machinery. For some reason believes that qualifies him to cut his own bangs.

A bit intense when organizing. He's always organized about every event: Winter, business, travel trips, party planning. But he gets irritated if others are lax in this department when they're trying to organize the same thing.

Likes the finer things in life. Everything he surrounds himself with is of good quality whereas not boisterous. It's all very tasteful.

Likes to eat well.

Still drives over the border to shop at the grocery stores of his neighbor countries because the prices are much lower. Still complains about the cheese quality though.

Can be surprisingly charming at first meetings. Treats people with reserved politeness, makes small, light hearted jokes. But he's extremely difficult to get close to on a personal level.

Even spontaneous meeting just to chat are already too familiar to him.

Not uninterested in others but enjoys being mostly by himself.

Actually can be very funny. It's mostly dry humor yet he has an unmatched timing. When he doesn't laugh at anyone else's jokes it's not for not getting them but because he purposefully wants to signal that he doesn't want to dignify that comment with a laugh.

Deadpan comments are politely formulated yet ice-cold.

Quiet interested in culture. Loves to go to art exhibits, museums, or watch movies. Even enjoys experimental stuff. Yet, if he doesn't like something he will tear it verbally to shreds for having wasted his time.

Uses many food metaphors without him noticing.

In modern days he has fun creating hip-hop-tracks. Nobody but him likes that.

Although he enjoys the refinery of urban environments, when he gets overwhelmed he retreats into the mountains to do craftswork, tend animals, and generally avoid human contact.

Terrific at any sport related to winter and mountains. Has to ski well by necessity although his first attempts at snowboarding were hilariously clumsy. Equally passionate about hockey and figure skating.

Hiking and mountain climbing are his summer time passions. Very convinced by his climbing skills, so he died on several occassions doing freestyle climbing. Stubbornly doesn't accept his failure though.

Many of his early deaths include death by avalanche, guessing what herb is edible or not, freezing to death, and getting in a wresting match with a billy goat once.

Interested in science as so far as it serves to better human living conditions in natural environments, or how to do things more practically. Loves riding the train to watch the panorama although not keen on Ludwig nerding out about trains.

If he had to choose, his favourite neighbour might be Francois (don't tell him that though).

Of course he's a pretentious schmuck about his chocolatier skills. Belgium and him have a silent rivalry about who's chocolate gets more praise.

Never leaves the house without a Swiss army knife.

[headcanons-n-shit]

good evening i have been allowed to Spin(tm) and that should never happen so here we go

Modern-ish au

Hancock is a weeb, yes, but he's a weeb with capital, business sense, and contacts, and thus he runs one of the most respectful little Doman goods shops you can find outside of Little Doma. Yes he's spent many a late night making sure his shit is authentic, yes he has to charge pretty big markups to barely make ends meet, yes his customers are mostly shitty students or the anime-obsessed, yes sometimes he wonders if this is even worth it or if he should just go back to trading stocks in Ul'dah.

But also the old Doman ladies who can't make the half-hour each way trip to Little Doma every week are absolutely charmed that he, an ijin, speaks perfect Doman, and he carries all the snacks they like, and he always wants to hear about their grandchildren or about the recent drama from mahjong night, and he always manages to get their festival foods and ingredients in on time (even if he has to pull extra hours and every time his suppliers cut it a little close). He's learning the Steppe tongue, slowly, from the Xaela pair that come in ever wednesday to make sure their children remember the taste of home, and he's finally figured out how to greet the odd veena in the language of the Skatay (although the finer sounds of Golmorian still escape him).

Even if it means he lives in a tiny little flat, even if it means near-sleepless nights spent looking for spare gil in the books to pay rent and pinching his pursestrings on his own groceries, this place gives him something Ul'dah never did:

a community.

A community that just so happens to include one Ash'a Amari.

Ash'a is a miqote, a Bozjan expat who spent his twenties and early thirties running refugees past Imperial lines to ships waiting to take them away to the relative safety of Eorzea, and Eorzean supplies to Bozjan resistance fighters on the front lines, until a single missed iud ended that career (and nearly ended his life).

Nowadays he's wheelchair-bound, working as a tattoo artist out of the tiny spot in the mall bc despite yugiri putting in a good word for him that's about the most the Thieves' Guild is willing to shell out for him. And that's alright. His legs might not work, but his hands are as steady as ever, and if the client is willing he hires some of the local kids to do art for him, and he does all of the thieves' ink for free, and if there's a little literal magic to his work, well. He's never had any complaints.

(and maybe, every now and then, once the lights are out and the shutters are closed, one of the thieves will slip in through the back door, and the bed where customers lay in the daytime will become an impromptu operating table, and Ash'a steady hands will save lives once again, and in the morning there will be oddly gruff faces cleaning The Waking Sands from top to bottom, but a bit of gil changes hands and no one questions a thing)

And the tension of the story doesn't come from the fact that the Thieves' Guild is currently having a problem with Imperial Assassins (not like Ash'a can do anything about it, really), or even that every time the store dips into the red Hancock nearly has a fucking heart attack trying to figure out how to make ends meet.

Nah, the plot comes from where it absolutely should in these kinds of stories:

nosey Doman grandmamas.

bc dearest Hinata, bless her heart, has been on Hancocks case for so. long. now. About how "having a lady around would make things so much easier on you, wouldn't it?" Extolling the virtues of her own (single) daughters, her friends' (single) daughters, the (single) daughters she knows adjacently from Little Doma. And Hancock, bless his heart, doesn't have it in him to tell this well-meaning woman that he is very, very gay.

And thankfully! He doesn't have to! bc Ash'a pops his head into the store one day around noon bc "the microwave in my back room broke and there's no way im eating these noodles cold, can I please use yours", and Hancock accepts eagerly bc he will take literally any out from yet another matchmaking session, and suddenly Hinata is connecting dots (she's not connecting shit).

The next time mahjong night comes around, she insists that Hancock should bring that "nice miqote lad from next door he's so fond of"

And it spins(tm) from there.

[gear-project]

Annon-Guy: With the Guilty Gear roster, who do you think would win a Cooking Competition (Yes, you can include Jam and Dizzy if you want 😉)? P.S. You ever heard of Cooking Fighter Hao (PS1) by Nippon Ichi Software? It's an action game they made before La Pucelle and Disgaea was even made.

A Guilty Gear-themed SHOKUGEKI!?

That sounds interesting!

Jam Kuradoberi would, of course, be the topmost competitor.

But you mustn't underestimate the likes of Venom, who not only bakes bread as his business, but is also an entirely capable sommelier (his wine knowledge is favored by Zato himself, who enjoys Sherry as a drink). Slayer also prefers Venom's tastes in quality cheeses as well.

Meanwhile there is Dizzy and her crafted and practiced skills as a housewife… Tea isn't the ONLY masterpiece she is capable of!

A surprising competitor would be Izuna… he has a taste for Tofu, but he knows good food, so his talents towards the culinary arts would be a worthy challenge to anyone!

Next up… Leo Whitefang… he knows German quisine like the back of his hand. King though he is, he understands the finer foods in life.

Another potential challenger would be Answer! When he isn't busy on the phone, he's also picking up nice spots to visit and eat great food from, so of course he'd know a good meal (and he never forgets good places to eat or recipes, either!)

And although he is simplistic, a rare breed of challenger would be Nagoriyuki! His extensive knowledge on Onigiri would probably shock many an aspiring cook!

Speaking of cooks… we can't forget Leap of the Jellyfish Pirates! Her gentle personality, massive frying pan, and warm smile aren't just for show. She's the fuel of the Jellyfish Crew! Her cooking would be incredibly worthy as a challenger!

A surprising addition to this Taste-Testing Tournament would be TESTAMENT! They've been trying new things lately… and Potatoes aren't the ONLY food they know how to handle! A scythe that can chop the finest meats and ingredients to boot!

From the youngest generation of chefs, we would be remiss to exclude Elphelt Valentine! While she is something of an oddball… she knows a thing or two about good-tasting food! So I wouldn't count her out of the competition!

So… who WOULD be the WINNER of this Duel?

That entirely depends on the quality of their cooking method and food taste!

[governmentofficial]

For a moment, Mycroft hesitated - not because he couldn't do it, but because he wasn't sure he should. Everybody always said that they wouldn't take offence, but he found that such a claim had a high probability of falling through if he actually responded with what had been asked of him. That was a problem. Not only had Mycroft promised to be on his best behaviour (and the 'pre-game' advice that Fish had given him had certainly included a reminder not to point out anything that people did not want to be said aloud), but he also found that he didn't want to cause offence with Isaac.

While that didn't sound unusual, it was for him. Usually, Mycroft couldn't care less what other people thought. They were inconsequential to him, so why should he bother considering their opinion? The fact that he wanted to both impress Isaac and ensure that he didn't put a step wrong while doing so spoke volumes about what a good impression the other had already made.

Hm. Well, perhaps he could make some observations, providing that he kept it simple. Nobody liked to know that somebody could see their darkest secrets, but simple deductions should be less of an issue, and Isaac had asked...

"Well, in addition to your dedication to your career, you're clearly an independent man who prefers his own company, resulting in a lack of relationships past useful acquaintances and those you know through work."

That was all easy enough to see that it barely required any thinking. If Isaac was publishing papers on topics that he was not actively working on, then he must be doing a lot of research in his spare time. A man like that would be highly unlikely to neglect a career as a doctor if the human body was, as he had claimed, something that he found fascinating - so, a dedication to his career. Mycroft knew first-hand how that affected one's friendships. When work, be that research or anything else, was the most important thing, relationships tended to suffer.

(A small part of Mycroft also hoped that Isaac was lacking in personal connections for the same reason that he was - that being, when you were incredibly smart, everybody else became so dull. That understanding was one that he found so rarely in other people.)

As for a lack of relationships, well, obviously that had to be the case because an intelligent doctor could, under most circumstances, have anybody he may want. Isaac was not already in a relationship - Mycroft could see that for himself, and, considering his stance on infidelity, he doubted his friend would have set him up with a taken man - ergo, they were not something that he regularly engaged with.

That, or there was something terribly wrong with him, and every relationship he embarked on fell apart without fail.

"And, you obviously enjoy your food, as well as your drink. You knew the wine from the label, and you ordered food that paired with it impeccably. Combined with multiple visits to a restaurant such as this, as well as your general appearance, your appreciation for the finer things in life is apparent."

Of course, there was nothing wrong with that. Mycroft was much the same.

"There is more, but I shouldn't say it. People do not tend to take kindly to these kinds of observations once they move past the very basics."

𝐌𝐘𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐀𝐂 @governmentofficial

It was quite easy to pick up on Mycroft Holmes' emotions. The fact that Isaac had written a paper on a subject that was so dear to his heart was having a strong effect on him.

Of course, Isaac felt a little bit smug about it, but how could he not? It was rare for his scientific work to be the source of so much exhilaration in someone. Usually, really, all it took for him to seduce someone for one night, were his good looks and his status as a doctor. It was refreshing to see that it was his (vastly superior) intellect that was starting to pique his date's interest.

Apparently, the other was not only impressed but also eager to impress him in return as well. In a way, it was endearing. Like a mouse willingly walking into a trap. But of course, how could he know that exciting Dr. Soliman's curiosity was such a dangerous endeavor?

And his curiosity was certainly excited, now.

His eyes subtly observed the people Mycroft Holmes was describing. It was easy for Isaac to confirm his deductions. He could feel the man's nervousness, and in fact, this woman was indeed pregnant. But Isaac had the clear advantage of reading people's emotions. Unless his date was another Gray in disguise (which was more than unlikely, it was impossible), he had a very impressive set of skills.

One that could absolutely warrant a little trip on his examination table.

"I must say, Mycroft, this was an exceptional display," hummed Isaac, "You're full of surprises." A smile curved his lips, the reminder that this was, after all, a date. And perhaps he needed the reminder himself, now that his obsession had been fully triggered by Mycroft Holmes' demonstration.

"What about me? What can you see? I promise I won't take offense."

[yandere-romanticaa]

𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭?

❝ Ladies, imagine your worst nightmare, like getting kidnapped, having a boyfriend that controls everything about your life and stares at you as you sleep every night, or dating a guy who watches the Fast and the Furious movies unionically, whatever. Now imagine if all of that stuff happened to you - but the guy was attractive?! ❞ - Alex Meyers, "365 days is the worst movie I've ever seen...", June 23rd, 2020.

❤️ NOTE: 365 Days is probably the worst movie I have ever seen in my whole entire life. That's why I set up the challenge of trying to make Massimo into... something, I honestly don't know what. Did I succeed? I don't know, you be the judge of that! It was also very hard trying to keep a straight face while writing this! I actually feel like punching myself for even bringing this into the world...

yandere! massimo torricelli x fem! reader.

The firm grip of his hand on your waist was a reminder of where exactly you stood in this relationship, if you even stood at all.

Massimo Torricelli was a man who was accustomed to the finer things in life and would accept nothing that he deemed to be beneath him. Be it food, clothing, women, his own men that worked for him, he would never lay a finger on anything lest it caught it his attention or he thought it was useful in one way or the other.

You often wondered what he saw in you to begin with.

The chatter of voices and the clinking of champagne glasses brought you back down to Earth as you remembered where you were. The scent of lit vanilla candles cradled your senses as the gorgeously dressed men and women paraded themselves around the ballroom, each person looking more ravishing than the next and all eager to prove their wealth and status to each other.

Pathetic, you thought to yourself.

It was unparalleled of how they all left themselves open, all of their fears and insecurities left on full display as they tried to hide themselves between fake grins, wretched laughs and intoxicating alcohol and other such substances.

The man who accompanied you tonight could not have been more different than the goons and fools that were tailing you like shadows.

Massimo Torricelli hardly had any time for himself let alone a crumb to spare for anyone that failed to exceed his skyhigh expectations. The man was the personification of every single Gucci suit, the scent of dark cologne and the lingering feeling of the burning end of a cigarette bud that was put out on soft flesh.

He always made sure to leave a mark wherever he went.

That included you as well.

To the other party goers you were Massimo's little treasure, the apple of his eye - someone who they could hopefully use against him, either by blackmail or wooing you themselves so that you could put in a good word for them.

The thought made you laugh. Your opinion was irrelevant, no matter how much Massimo claimed for the opposite to be true.

You were trapped in chains upon chains of riches and dirty secrets that no one would ever uncover.

Massimo would make sure of it.

[devilish-miasma]

Hello! do you know gokushufudo(the way of the househusband)? For a request, it could be possible Dante and vergil and nero(platonic) with S/O who is like tatsu, the immortal dragon. Excelent and Cook extremely delicious, have scary smile 🤣 and really love and care his boyfriend/ son? Hahah it would funny see the reaction of vergil when nero introduces him to her as his mother, they shake hands and she warns him not to hurt her son(Nero) again. While squeezing him hand too hard (super strength) Thanks!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ahh hello again. Unfortunately I do not know much of what you’re talking about. I did some research while I wrote this but I would like to apologize for any inaccuracies written here, as my knowledge of this anime is severely lacking.

I would also like to inform you that this was kept gender-neutral, except for Nero’s part. I know you used feminine pronouns when you spoke of Nero, so I tried to respect that. I hope you have a lovely day/afternoon/night and enjoy reading.

Toxic

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dante

Oh my god, finally, someone who can get Dante to eat something other than pizza and strawberry sundaes.

Devil May Cry has been the cleanest it's ever been since your arrival. Cleaning the shop provided stress relief, cooking, too. So, you have no problem with your job as a housespouse. Though, it can be annoying when the electric is shut off.

Lady and Trish definitely tease Dante about it. Saying that the shop wouldn’t look this good if you hadn’t come around. Though, they do wonder what screws you have loose to marry Dante of all men.

Dante’s not one for finer, expensive cuisine, but he does appreciate the effort you put in meals. Making him meals for when he’s out demon hunting, preparing a meal for when he returns home. It makes Dante feel special, and feeling this way has made him fight harder. It pushes his determination to return home quicker and see you.

He’ll convince you to make homemade pizza. You only learn a recipe because it makes him happy, but you refuse to make a habit out of it. You just want Dante to eat something other than pizza for once.

Sometimes, Dante will come home super late, and he’ll see you at the table, asleep. Gently, he’ll pick you up and put you to bed, only for you to grab him and grumble about food in the fridge. Dante just smiles and kisses your temple.

As nice as you are, you’re also scary. You definitely scare him at times, including those affiliated with Devil May Cry. You have this… expression that demands authority. You even get Vergil to listen to you, and that’s saying something.

“You’re seriously that intimidated by someone so smaller than you, Verge?”

“How laughable for you to assume such things, little brother, when you bat your eye at them and do whatever they wish.”

Dante and Vergil’s fights end quickly now that you’re in the picture. Both of them stop due to not wanting to feel your wrath.

In general, you’re a badass. Once, you caught wind of a demon hunting job gone wrong, and you showed up, guns blazing (literally), proclaiming to your adversaries that you’re a housespouse. Dante has never seen anything hotter.

You are a sweetheart to Dante, though. Very loving, caring deeply for your husband. You lovingly kiss and hold him, his inner demon purring in happiness. The relationship makes Dante feel content, and he knows this is what he’s always wanted.

Vergil

“Ah yes. Me. My spouse. And their ability to make demons cry.”

You’re kind, understanding, and strong, of course he fell for you. You are also unafraid of him. Having someone like that forced Vergil’s walls down.

Vergil built his walls up tall and strong, and you were so, so stubborn and knocked them all down. He’s never felt so safe, so understanding with anyone before. Falling in love with you seemed as natural as breathing.

As sweet and kind as you are to him, your wrath is not to be tested. Vergil is not a man who is intimidated easily, but seeing what you’ve done to him and Dante when they fight made him realize you’re a force to be reckoned with. And he admires that.

Vergil enjoys cooking discussions with you. He loves seeing you become enthused with your craft, seeing how you become when speaking about cooking. Sometimes he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about but he enjoys learning. And you enjoy teaching him.

He’ll sometimes watch you cook. It’s very relaxing.

Cooking for him makes Vergil feel emotions. It is an act that makes him fall deeper and deeper in love with you.

Vergil doesn’t become jealous in your relationship knowing you can put those who flirt with you in their place. Once, Dante flirted with you, unaware of your relationship with him. Dante earned the shock of his life when you announced that you “had a man one-hundred times finer than” him while showing off your ring, and then grabbing Vergil and showing his ring.

Knowing that you’re so loyal also provides comfort to Vergil. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you’re suddenly not in his life.

When he’s out demon hunting with his brother or son (or both), you’ll always make lunch for him. Vergil has taken it upon himself to eat on top of Nico’s van to avoid being teased. Not that it's embarrassing, he just sincerely hates it when his brother does that.

You’re always up waiting for him, even though he tells you not to. You await with dinner ready, and Vergil can faintly smell cleaning products. From earlier cleaning, he guessed. It's a natural, normal thing and Vergil cannot imagine himself coming home to anything other than that.

Nero (platonic) (fem!reader)

You first met Nero at the grocery store, and this sweetheart grabbed something for you on the very top shelf. You met him again out in public when some men were harassing you, which he unkindly told them to fuck off. That’s when you invited Nero for tea, and you’ve adopted him ever since.

You are absolutely kind to him, a total sweetheart. Nero came to your place multiple times for lunch, even invited you to meet Kyrie. You bonded with his girlfriend through cooking, even teaching her a thing or two.

Soon, Nero found himself attached to you. He looked up to you, an older, positive feminine figure in his life, one he thought he’d never have. He began to see you as a mother, and due to how nurturing you were, it seemed natural for those feelings to fall in place like pieces to a puzzle.

With that sweet, caring side was a fierce protective personality.

“Don’t talk to me or my son ever again,” You growl at some asshole. Nero has never felt so cherished before.

When you met Vergil, it was hilarious and scary. Nero already told you about the whole arm ripping off business, and it formed some bitterness within you. When you met, you put on a happy mask and introduced yourself to this stoic, unflinching man. You knew what you needed to do.

As you shook hands, Vergil made a face best described as surprise. Through your smile, an intimidating aura leaked off of you. You gripped his hand with such force it surprised him that you, a human woman, was capable of such strength. Strength that affected a full grown half-demon.

You suddenly grasped his collar and forced him down to your level, your lower eyelid twitching.

“Listen here, mister,” your voice oozed with venom and protectiveness over Nero. “If I ever hear that you’ve hurt my son again, I will make you rue your very birth. Do that shit again and you will regret it. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Nero and Dante have never laughed so hard.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Read it on AO3 | Rules | Buy this devil a coffee

[leatherglovesandbutterflyknives]

Sweet Tooth: A Missy/Reader Ficlet

Part One

It was late, but you weren’t tired. The day had been long, but it had left a longing ache in your muscles that you knew you’d have to deal with sooner or later. The Doctor and Missy were currently bickering over something to do with... well you weren’t quite sure what a ‘transducer breakdown’ meant, but apparently it meant that you were staying on this planet overnight. 

Which... you couldn’t really complain about. The planet was known for its abundance; performance, comfort and the finer things in life were an every day occurrence. Right now you were sitting on an extravagant sofa in front of a roaring fire with delicacies on every table and music playing outside. 

Not that the Doctor, or Missy, seemed to care. 

In fact, the only time either of them had been remotely affected by anything that the planet had to offer was when your host had shown the three of you around their home, which included a room filled with aliens and humans in what you were told was a ‘Festival for the Senses’. 

Missy had smirked and whispered under her breath to the Doctor, who was blushing, heavily. 

“More like an orgy. That takes me back.”

You’d all moved on very quickly, but you couldn’t help glancing back into the room before the doors closed, intrigued. 

Yes, you would have to deal with the reaction that image had caused soon. Maybe retiring to bed would be a good idea. 

“For goodness sake, Missy, you can’t keep tinkering with the T.A.R.D.I.S,” the Doctor said, throwing his hands up in the air. “She’s confused now.”

“Well, if you maintained her like you should-”

“You know, if you two are going to keep bickering all night, I think I’ll just go to bed.”

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor said, smoothing his jacket down as he glanced over at you. “I’m going to go and fix her. Missy, don’t do anything... well, just don’t do anything.”

“How boring, and after I’ve been such a good girl.” 

He sighed and cast a glance at you. 

“Will you be alright?”

“Me? Fine.”

He threw one last warning glance at Missy, before heading out of the door. Missy looked over at you and smirked. 

“Isn’t it funny? He thinks I’m going to be a bad girl in this place.” She scoffed, wandering over, playing her fingers above food until she reached down and plucked a grape from a bunch, popping it in her mouth. “As if I would ruin somewhere so delicious.”

“Isn’t that what you usually do? Burn planets?” You asked, eyeing up the box of chocolates near you. 

“That has been one of my hobbies, yes. But not this one. I rather enjoy the indulgent creatures. Who doesn’t like to engage in a little sinful behaviour, now and then?”

She winked and then popped the grape into her mouth and chewed, watching you. You swallowed. Perhaps it was the fire, or the ache from earlier, but the way Missy was currently looking at you made you feel like she wanted to eat you, instead. 

“Well, it certainly seems like they enjoy themselves. Although I was always told that you can have too much of a good thing.”

“Now that,” she announced, swaying closer, picking out more food, “is something people say when they don’t understand how good it can get. You saw those people earlier, didn’t you, pet?”

She sank down on the sofa, crossing her leg over and watching you as she bit another grape from a bunch, before dropping them in the plate nearest her. You nodded. 

“Yes.”

“Did any of them look like they were having too much of a good thing?”

“You’re like the little devil on someone’s shoulder, aren’t you?” You said, shifting so she was more in your sights. “Whispering of delights they could have if they were a little naughty.”

Missy’s smirk widened and her eyes glinted. 

“Don’t you want to be a little naughty, pet?”

You swallowed. 

“That... is a dangerous question.”

“Most of mine are.” Missy’s eyes slipped to the chocolates by your elbow. “Why don’t you have one? You’ve been eyeing them up since we got here.”

“How would you know? You’ve been arguing with the Doctor.”

“I notice a lot,” Missy purred, leaning closer. “I noticed your pupils dilate earlier, when you were watching all those bodies writhing together in bliss. I noticed you fidgeting while we were arguing, your mind wandering over those images. I’ve noticed the way you pressed your thighs together when I got closer.”

You blushed, crossing your legs over, away from her, looking at the chocolates to save from looking at Missy. 

“So what? It’s been a while. I’m a human. I have urges.”

“And what better place than this planet to give into them?” Her voice was so close to your ear, so low and inviting, that the breath of her tickled, making you shiver. You bit your lip as she withdrew, and then reached out to take one of the chocolates. 

“Fine. One chocolate. Then I’m going to bed.”

You popped the chocolate in your mouth and then... oh. It was delicious; the best you’d ever tasted. You swallowed as the chocolate melted on your tongue and slid down your throat, enveloping your senses with smooth caramels. 

“Wow.”

“Indeed,” Missy purred. “Perhaps another wouldn’t be so bad?”

You glanced at her, and then reached out, taking another chocolate. Looking at Missy, you licked your lips. Her eyes followed the flick of your tongue and you felt your core heat. Well... when in Rome?

You took the chocolate in your mouth, watching her reaction as you tasted it.

Missy cocked her head, watching as you licked your fingers clean of the chocolate and let out a light moan. Her eyes darkened and you couldn’t help but tease, just a little.

"God, that tastes so good."

Smirking, she slid a little closer, and stole a chocolate from the box. Her free fingers gripped your chin, pulling you closer. You held your breath, the angles in her face a little softer this close and in the warm firelight. 

"Try this one."

You slowly parted your lips, and she placed the chocolate on your tongue. Fixed on her blue eyes, you closed your lips before she could withdraw her fingers, and sucked. Her pupils darkened, and when your lips parted and released her slick fingers, she watched as you chewed and swallowed the melting chocolate, with an intent that made your stomach curl.

You reached for another chocolate but this time, you raised it between you, quirking your eyebrow in a question. She seemed amused, but parted her lips. You placed the chocolate on her tongue and she caught your wrist in her strong grip. Slowly, she sucked each of your finger tips, cleaning them of chocolate, and with each suck you felt a pull in your cunt that made you wonder how her mouth would feel sucking at your clit. 

Missy swallowed, and then leaned in, still holding your wrist with her thumb against your pounding pulse. 

“Would you like to indulge a little more, pet?”

You shouldn’t. You knew that, somewhere. But the rest of you was screaming at you to say yes; every inch of you wanted her. Wanted to see what she could do to you.

“Yes.” Your voice was so throaty and low that you were momentarily surprised, but then her fingers were winding into your hair and tugging, exposing your neck to her devilish tongue.

She licked a trail up your throat and then nipped and sucked at your lower lip. You let out a hoarse little whimper, reaching as she pulled back a little, wanting her to do more. 

“You know,” she purred, her breath teasing your lips. “I can taste how much you want me. You’re practically in heat and it’s filling the air around you with so many delightful pheromones.”

“How do I taste?” You whispered. 

She chuckled, a low sound from the back of her throat that sent another spike of heat through you. 

“Delicious.”

With that, Missy pressed your lips together, and you melted into her kiss as soft lips and her naughty tongue teased you. You parted with a tearing sound and a distinct moan, before she was pressing you back against the sofa and pulling apart your shirt. 

“Fuck... I...” Your eyes rolled back as she nipped your collarbone before sucking at it; you had no doubt that she was leaving a bruise with the force of her. “Missy...”

“Yes, pet?” She purred, sucking at your pulse point as her hand moved up your leg, her weight pressing between them in a way that made you want to buck. 

“What if the Doctor comes back, I...”

“The fact that you can even think of him right now is quite the insult,” she husked, her fingers digging into your thighs as she pushed up the large skirt you’d worn to fit in. Her nails were leaving half moon marks in your flesh; your legs bare above the knee. “I should really punish you.”

You moaned, your hips automatically bucking as she pressed into you again. Her chuckle just made you rock harder, and soon you were rutting as best you could into her skirt covered thigh as she kissed, sucked and licked all over your jaw, neck and shoulders. 

She tugged one side of your shirt down, and then the other, until she could find your shoulders and the swell of your breasts with her mouth. You were losing your mind, all sense gone, as she feasted upon you ravenously. 

Then she was pulling back, her hand wrapped in your shirt to pull you with her and you were being tugged from the sofa onto the carpet. She straddled you, lifting her skirts and pressing herself against your hip bone... oh. 

She was damp, wearing nothing to cover her. You felt the stickiness of her and your mouth watered, your hands reaching for her. 

Missy's hand on your chest made you still, the carpet underneath you soft against the muscles of your back as she continued to undress you. When the shirt lay under your lower back, the sleeves cuffing your wrists, she sat back on your hips and smirked, admiring her handiwork. The fire crackled to your side, and you were glad of the warmth of it, because the way she was looking at you made you shiver with antici-

[amzyspinkarch]

Content Info

Includes: fluff, angst, heartbreak, breakup, endearments, alcohol consumption, kissing, 18+, legal age gap, lots of feelings, happy ending. Minors Do Not Interact.

Note: A shot for my beautiful friend. Happy birthday love! Based on the break up arc in her book ‘The One’ by Lyndsyh on Wattad.

Song inspired:

🎵Our Love Is Easy by Melody Gardot🎵

Word Count: 814

Deep within your heart, you know it's plain to see

Like Adam was to Eve, you were made for me

They say the poisoned vine breeds a finer wine

Our love is easy

There's something to be said. Yet, words do not break free from the confines of her mouth. How could she be so careless? She's berated herself already one too many.

Yet not many enough. How many times is enough when it comes to losing the love of your life?

''Tiger'' her heart cries out in the darkness. Lost she is to the outside world. Her body contorts, folding into itself. She could disappear in herself. She could disappear from this wretched pain. Hugging herself could heal her. It could mend her.

Another cry from the depth of her soul burst from within her. Conscience shakes its head to its host. This is the wrong remedy. What's needed to put her back together again is a cost that may be too high.

Shame, guilt, embarrassment, and fear, plus tax torment her. Yet, to face the truth, to face him and attempt to right her wrongs, might be too much for the woman. She couldn't face him. Not yet.

Oh, but to see him. To lay eyes on him would be like sun rays touching the dark corners of the room. To feel the heat rest on your face. For once, a welcomed bliss. She'd take it all in. Light wouldn't be at the end of the tunnel but staring right at her.

She sighs.

.

If you ask me plainly I would gladly say

I'd like to have you round just for the rainy days

I like the touch of your hand, the way you make no demands

Our love is easy

Our love is easy

Like water rushing over stone

Oh, our love is easy, like no love I've ever known

They used to lay in the trunk of his trunk in the comfort of blankets, pillows, favorite foods. Their love was so pure, a bond became so natural that nothing mattered. The man was a quiet shield for any storm. He would lay his head on her chest. He'd feel the world shut out. Life would not take away his moments of sweet serenity while in the comfort of your bosoms.

They'd lay for hours, laughing, talking, basking in silence. Her hands would thread through his short hair, and he'd feel himself sinking further into this beautiful bliss.

''Tiger''

''Hm''

''I love you''

She feels the smile on his lips before she feels those soft lips touch her breasts. Loving kisses laid upon her chest fill her with warmth.

''I love you girls, too'' he replies to the gorgeous, soft twins beneath him

She rolls her eyes before the joyous sound of her laugh resounds throughout the room. He couldn't get enough of it. He couldn't get enough of the woman he'd been able to call his. What would he do should this ever stop? He prays he never finds out. Hopes there'll never be an answer. All good things can't come to an end.

Not this. He silently pleads.

.

Physically speaking we were made to last

Examine all the pieces of our recent past

There's your mouth I taste

Your hands around my waist

Our love is easy

Nothing could prepare her for the moment she saw his face again. Light came too soon, she was not ready. Yet, her heart and soul elate, greedily drinking in the sight of him. Rather than a night of stolen glances, and longing hearts in a tense atmosphere, is a night of sharing new memories.

They play against two others in a daring game. The competition becomes stiff, yet they flow together like a calm stream into a waterfall. And crashes into them the memories of their love as he steadies her to take a shot.

When she scores, he takes the drink for her, the gentleman he is. His nickname leaves her lips as easily as breathing, yet he didn't mind. The endearment will always be welcomed.

When it is all said and done, they sat in the company of each other, and yet there was not a shred of awkwardness. Could it be the intoxicator? Or could it be the peace that resides when you're with each other?

An apology pushes from her tongue but becomes swallowed by lips she thought she lost. Lips she yearned for. Thick, coarse pads of his fingers touch her soft lips in reverence. He'd miss them. He'd miss the woman he fell in love with so easily.

Kisses are exchanged, you both swallow what happened that awful day. The past can be burned and erased forever.

''I miss you''

''I missed you too''

.

Every time we meet it's like the first we kiss

Never growing tired of this endlessness

It's a simple thing, we don't need a ring

Our love is easy

Our love is easy

Like water rushing over stone

Oh, our love is easy, like no love I've ever known

Our love is easy

Like water rushing over stone

Oh our love is easy

Like no love I’ve ever known

How beautiful can life be?

Maybe in the way his lips touch her skin, a reminder that this is not a dream. Maybe it's in the way each kiss represents a new day and a sending off of wounds that once stylized your delicate heart and marred the softness of your soul.

Maybe it's in the way words from her lover become the balm to her once-broken heart. Soothing the cracks in her heart, caused by shame and regret.

How complete can one be?

Maybe it's in the way she learns from mistakes made in the past and chooses to be better.

Maybe it's when she accepts herself, others, her reality, and chooses to move forward.

Maybe it's in the way she lets him hold her to him while promising to be better. To hold him as well in all things.

Maybe it's in the way her heart triumphs as he pours his love and adoration for her and her alone unto her soul. Unto her mind. Unto her body.

Maybe it's in the stillness of their time together like before. No more worries.

Maybe it's just because she has the love of her life back.

Now, she can rest easy in the warmth and protection of the man who's loved her for her all this time. And when she lies there, she'll realize just how easy, how beautiful, how complete life can be. How it has been all along.

.

Deep within your heart, you know it's plain to see

Like Adam was to Eve, you were made for me

The windows have been opened; the curtains have been drawn. A lovely breeze rolls dances throughout the room as the sun kisses a greeting. How lovely it is to be accepted and to accept yourself finally.

She breathes in the fresh coffee and takes in the morning she usually begrudgingly greets with a smile. Today is new, today, she's new. New with love and free of worry. She was meant to be.

As so they both knew they were meant to be. Maybe a test was needed. Maybe a separation was required so that the woman given the love she deserved, could learn to accept her truth. That age never mattered. That years between them could never dictate the purity of their love. That outside forces, naysayers, and all could never destroy the beauty you've created.

Maybe she needed to see how he made her see the truth. How he made her see reason. He made her see herself in his eyes, he made her feel every bit of the beauty she possesses, and all was not to gain the spoils of a broken heart later. It was truth spoken for her to listen to.

To see that no matter what she thought of her age, she was meant for him just as he was meant for her. So maybe all was well for her to be tested. As...

They say the poisoned vine breeds a finer wine

.

In the comfort of his arms and the silence that surrounds them, she's thankful that she has him back. That she has this back. She looks back on how foolish she had been and is grateful for the gift she once lost. She snuggles closer to him, and he holds her tighter. It is in this moment as the silence comforts them that...

Forever and always.

For years to come.

They'll be reminded why they're made for no one else. Despite it all...

Your love is easy

[castthy-nightedcolour]

One- Shot: The Seaside Dream (written as part of my series ‘don’t worry about a thing’ on AO3, link can be found at the bottom of the post as it won’t let me embed it)

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: GN Reader, Aziraphale, Crowley

Warnings and Tags: depression, skipping meals, dynamic duo, here come the boysssss, soft crowley

Summary: you don’t show up for wine with crowley and aziraphale, and the two hurry to your apartment to see what’s going on

Word Count: 2281

Link to original: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31055930/chapters/83889112

‘Crowley, please hurry!’

The pained cry of the angel came from the top of the flight of stairs in your apartment block, echoing off the concrete walls. This mixed with the reverberant sigh of Crowley, and the ever- so- slow tread of his footsteps.

‘CROWLEY. This is important! Do you not care?’

The demon stopped dead in his tracks, planting his feet at the bottom of the set of stairs that the out of breath Aziraphale stood at the top of.

Crowley was not at all happy with the angel’s question.

‘Do I not what? Care? Oh Angel, you’re asking to be pushed down these stairs,’ he responded, almost growling under his breath. In any other circumstance, this might have actually pleased Aziraphale, however this time, he was actually terrified.

-

The scenario had started with what Aziraphale called ‘a dreadfully funny feeling.’

Since Armageddon was narrowly avoided, the angel and the demon had found themselves at somewhat of a loose end on Earth, enjoying their free time together but still constantly striving for some higher purpose.

That’s where you came in. Little did you know that a walk into a lovely little bookshop called A.Z Fell & Co. one day to search for an overpriced illustrated copy of your favourite book would lead to drinking a couple of bottles of wine with the owner and his companion for seven hours straight, and that this would become a weekly tradition. You just clicked with the pair, you found them magnetising and, well, you were a fascinating human to the angel and the demon, so they quickly grew fond of you.

The two supernatural beings then decided that their purpose would be caring. Caring for you.

Not in a suffocating way though, at least that was never the intention. Between the two of them, Crowley and Aziraphale decided from the get go that they would just be there for you as a friend, with little extras added on top like going out and buying your shopping for you whenever there was a thunderstorm, or baking you enough cake to feed the 5000. But, the pair’s talents in observance and intuition slowly made them realise that something was always just slightly off with you.

To them, it seemed like there was always something hidden behind a wall in your head, like a pretence that you constantly held up. Granted, part of their realisation came when in one of your drinking sessions at the bookshop, you let slip that you hadn’t eaten a proper meal for two days and they both nearly hit the roof. They asked you why, and kept asking why (Aziraphale in particular was extremely persistent) but you brushed it off- you always brushed it off.

‘No no, it’s nothing to be worried about, I promise! I’ve just been so busy, y’know? It’s nothing, please Aziraphale, you can sit down. Don’t you worry about me.’

Now, Crowley could sense a lie from a mile off considering he was the lord of them, and Aziraphale could feel that your inner emotions were about as steady as a mongoose riding a pedal bike, and they therefore deduced that they should in fact worry about you.

And so the slightly incompetent suffocation began.

This was definitely mainly from Aziraphale, as his senses for detecting emotional suffering and hurt were a lot stronger than Crowley’s- this was just down to how long he’d been pulling angelic manoeuvres. Crowley was a lot less practised however when he felt that something was off, he really did feel that something was off. This however meant that wherever in London you were, Aziraphale would realise that something was wrong, no matter how small the inconvenience.

Notable occasions included when the tubes on the Central Line were running one minute late and Aziraphale unsuccessfully attempted to miracle another train up, causing even more delay and destruction, when the bottom of your shoe fell off in a puddle and Aziraphale got so upset that he cried for an hour, (to be fair, he’d had a long day; someone had tried to buy a book from the shop which had displeased him greatly) and when a seagull crapped on your shoulder while you were sitting outside a bar at Canary Wharf and the angel managed to manifest a fluke bolt of lightning which struck the seagull down right into your food.

And all this from the comfort of his own home.

Crowley had tried to tell the angel that not every inconvenience could be sorted out, that the pair needed to pick their battles with the perils of the human life.

‘Yes yes, I understand. I’ll stop, I promise. We’ll stick to the original plan. Now have you seen my banana bread recipe? I think they could do with a pep up.’

This lasted for 22 hours.

You hadn’t shown up to the bookshop like you did every week.

‘Oh Angel do stop pacing, they have a life of their own you know,’ Crowley nagged, holding a bottle of red wine in one hand as he stood in the doorway between the main shop and the back room.

‘Something is wrong, Crowley. I have a dreadfully funny feeling,’ Aziraphale insisted, wringing his hands and pacing at twice the average speed of an angel.

‘Right, yes, okay but the problem is, you’ve said that every night for two weeks and it hasn’t been true once.’

‘You can’t sense it like I can.’ The angel stormed towards the coat stand, reaching for his coat.

‘Oh no no no, we agreed, no suffocation. Put that down, you’re not going anywhere,’ the demon asserted.

‘Oh yes we are. Put that wine in the back, you’re driving.’

Crowley had rarely heard Aziraphale’s voice like this before, low and extremely demanding. There wasn’t any way he was getting out of this, the angel was on a mission.

-

And so, Crowley drove the angel to your apartment block and the two of them ended up in the stairwell facing off with each other. Too highly strung for their own good.

‘What if this is the one time that I’m right? You’re here getting all… demonic on the stairs and-‘

‘I will get demonic, Aziraphale. I am in fact a demon, plus if this is the one time that you’re right then you’re holding both us back by squabbling. Move out of the way.’

Crowley marched up the stairs stony faced, swooping straight past Aziraphale to your front door.

He did care. He really did. He just didn’t like to show it around Aziraphale because he always felt inferior in they way that he cared compared to the angel. He didn’t have those massively intuitive senses, his baking skills weren’t up to scratch, he felt held back by control. But something in the demonic form burned when he thought of the idea that you were hurting- and that burning was made more painful by Aziraphale’s suggestion that he didn’t care.

He snapped his fingers at your door, and it violently swung open, hitting against the wall of the hallway as it did. He stormed inside, barely letting Aziraphale follow behind before he snapped his fingers again to close it. Darkness and silence fell over the hallway as the angel and the demon stood completely still, their anxious breathing slowly filling the space.

They could both easily sense one important thing- you were present in the apartment, you were safe within the four walls. There was a collective sigh of relief.

‘Told you,’ Crowley sneered under his breath, trying to hide his still present anxiety. As much as he could feel your presence, he was struggling with any of the finer details, your emotional state or your exact whereabouts.

‘Don’t be like that. I was only trying to help,’ Aziraphale whimpered, taking a small step forwards. Unlike Crowley, he could just about tell that you were somewhere in the general direction of your bedroom. The angel clicked his fingers and uttered a small ‘let there be light’, allowing the hallway to be illuminated by a faint white glow. There was no other light coming from anywhere due to a distinct lack of windows in the architecture of this building, the only three were in your living room, your bedroom and your kitchen and even then, you’d shut all of the curtains and all of the doors in the place.

The angel padded further down the hallway, leaving Crowley to look at the prints on your walls like an awkward cousin at a party. By the time Aziraphale had reached your bedroom door, Crowley had moved onto examining the items on the coffee table that was slightly further down the hall. There wasn’t a lot to examine, a couple of books, your keys, an Alexa that you’d turned the microphone off on. The one thing that caught Crowley’s eye was a small painting of a seaside town just laying down on the table. It wasn’t anywhere near being finished and much to Crowley’s dismay, it was crumpled up. He assumed two scenarios from this, either someone had given you an unfinished painting and you felt so strongly about it that you took to crumpling it up, or this was in fact your handy work that had been partially destroyed.

‘Crowley, what now?’ Aziraphale whispered from the end of the corridor, bringing Crowley’s gaze up from the table and back to reality.

‘Uhhh, don’t scare them. Don’t just burst in,’ the demon responded, moving down to meet Aziraphale by the bedroom.

‘I wasn’t planning on doing that! I just mean, do I knock? Just go in? Announce our arrival?’

Crowley rested his hand lightly on your bedroom door, looking quizzically at Aziraphale who was jumping through every possible scenario in his head. The demon sighed.

‘Just, shush. Okay, let’s just be quiet. Follow me, angel.’

Crowley very slowly pushed your bedroom door open, being greeted with yet more darkness from inside as he did so. Aziraphale hung over his shoulder to try and look inside, with Crowley grunting slightly at this. Through the darkness, Crowley made out a shape in the bed.

You, curled into a ball and fast asleep. Your breathing was heavy, but not laboured, and the bedsheets rose and fell accordingly. You were as close to comatose as could possibly be, dead to the world but luckily, very much alive.

‘Aaah. Oh, look,’ whispered Aziraphale. Crowley glared slightly at the angel, but inside, his sentiments were very similar. The pair stared at your form resting in the darkness for a few seconds, relieved with every breath that you took. With anyone else? It would have been creepy.

But not with these two. It was a deep devotion and concern.

Aziraphale went to take a step forwards but Crowley stopped him in his tracks, stopping the angel from getting anywhere near you.

‘Don’t even think about waking them, look. They’re deep in dreamland,’ the demon hissed, meeting Aziraphale’s puppy eyes.

‘Oh please, I just wanted to check that they’re okay.’

‘Aziraphale, they’re very clearly shattered. I think that we’ve discovered that they’re definitely not okay, but interrupting their sleep won’t help anyone. Let’s just, y’know, help where we can.’

‘But their soul-‘

‘I know. We’ll help with that tomorrow. For today, they sleep.’

Aziraphale eventually backed off slightly, looking down while nodding in defeat. While his deep concern could only ever have come from a place of love, he realised that stepping back for a second could be beneficial to everyone. He started to head towards the kitchen to see if there was anything that he could help with in there, turning back round for a second to ask Crowley what he should do. Crowley however was no longer stood in your doorway, and was instead sat on the edge of your bed, resting his hand on your leg.

The angel went to protest in some jealousy for a moment, but the warm glow that filled up his heart because of the sight stopped him. He just smiled, and turned back.

—

Between the pair of them, you were treated to a clean kitchen, a full fridge, a massive fuzzy blanket for the bed and soft, warm light for each room.

But there was one final detail bugging Crowley.

As the pair crept down your hallway back to the front door, Crowley let out a soft whistle to his friend as he stopped beside the coffee table. The angel turned his head, looking at the objects scattered about the surface.

‘What’s this?’ He asked, strangely intrigued by the small speaker- like object.

‘It’s an Alexa, it’s like a - y’know what, doesn’t matter. That’s not what I need you for. Look at this.’ Crowley picked up the ruined painting that he’d spotted earlier, showing it to Aziraphale. The angel scanned over it.

‘Ooh, its Whitby, the place with Dracula!’ He half gasped half squealed, failing to see what his friend was seeing.

‘It’s fucked is what it is, angel. I think they���ve crumpled it up in frustration or something, which I’m not exactly thrilled with. I’m out of niceness for today, can you do something?’ Crowley sighed, thrusting the painting towards his friend slightly.

‘Oh, easily. Your wish is my command, dear.’

Aziraphale swiped his hand across the paper and watched as the creases disappeared and the smudges eased. The colours got just a little brighter, and the beauty of your half- finished painting was restored.

‘We’ll help them finish it tomorrow, yes Crowley?’ The angel continued. Crowley gave a small smile with all the good energy that he had left in his body.

‘Yes angel. That would be nice.’

[heejinnien]

bts | roses chapter two

word count: 1.8k words

pairing: bts x reader

synopsis: y/n is a member of the seoul behavioral analysis unit. usually, she’s the cat in the typical game of cat and mouse played with the criminals they catch, but when a mysterious string of murders has her on edge, she discovers she’s caught the attention of one of a dangerous criminal — and he’s determined to make her pay for it.

or, not all attention is the good kind.

genre: horror, angst

warnings: yandere themes, descriptions of gore, descriptions of violence, murder, the reader carries a gun because they need to defend themself against bad guys, guns, manipulation, victim blaming, this is overall just a very dark fic

author’s note: i’m sorry this isn’t as long as the other chapters but when i cut the fic into different parts i didn’t split it evenly sksks. like before, the “terms used throughout this fic” section of the masterlist was updated to include terms in this chapter. if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask or dm, or just let me know your thoughts! i would be happy to explain things to you, and i would also love to hear your feedback or who you think is suspicious. as always, adhere to the warnings and do not read if any of those things trigger you.

roses masterlist

“Are you sure you didn’t see anyone?”

Hoseok sits beside you as officers swarm the small hotel room and the hallway outside it, dusting for fingerprints, searching for any traces of the person who left the letter outside your room.

“No, I didn’t,” you reply, twisting your hands anxiously. “They knocked and I spilled some of my dinner, and by the time I cleaned it up and got to the door the hallway was empty.”

Hoseok nods, thoughtful. “We’ll get the hotel to pull up security footage.”

You both sit in silence, your thoughts swarming. You hope that Hoseok doesn’t ask why you spilled your food. Even though you know he won’t judge you, you still feel the need to present yourself as unphased by this case as the rest of your team. Admitting that you were startled because you had been so wrapped up in sentimentality would be a sign of weakness, and as a female NIS agent you know you can’t afford to show any of it.

“Where’s Namjoon?” You finally ask, voice cutting through the awkward silence that had settled around you.

“He’s back at the station already, adding this to the case notes.”

“You let him know what was happening?” You ask.

Hoseok had been the first to burst down your door, his room sharing a wall with yours and your voice having pierced through the thin wood. The rest of your team followed shortly after, local law enforcement arriving moments after that to process the scene.

“Jin did, he’s in the hallway now.” Hoseok jerks his head in the direction of the open door. Just around the corner of what you can see is where you assume Jin is. If you strain, you can hear his voice, speaking rapidly as he barks out orders to the officers around him.

You nod, bouncing your leg anxiously.

“Hey, it’ll be okay, Y/N,” Hoseok murmurs, giving you a gentle smile and leaning forward to hug you. He wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in his warmth and the soothing comfort he provides. “We’ll catch the criminal, just like we always do.”

You both remain like this for a moment before you pull away. “I’m okay, really,” you say, flashing Hoseok a smile that you hope is more reassuring than you sound. You force the fear and anxiety twisting inside you aside, refusing to let Hoseok see how shaken up you are.

As if sensing this, Hoseok searches your gaze. You force yourself to remain still, forcing the emotions that Hoseok will expect to see into your expression. Collectedness. Unbotheredness.

Hoseok hums as he drags his eyes away from yours, pushing himself to his feet.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N,” he says after another moment of pause.

He smiles again, but this time something dark flashes across his gaze. It passes so quickly you’re sure that with your paranoia you imagined it, and you ignore the way Hoseok’s words settle wrongly in your gut, the way that nothing feels right anymore.

“Detective Yeosang.”

You nod your head in greeting at the new detective, quickly shaking his hand and observing the empty lot around you. You cock your head to the side as you snap on a pair of blue gloves, raking your gaze over the Incheon detective.

“Where’s Detective Jaehyun?”

Yeosang gives you a tight smile, voice strained as he says, “Detective Jaehyun was removed from the case this morning for hindering an official investigation. SSA Namjoon was kind enough not to press federal charges against him, but he was still removed.”

You arch an eyebrow at the news, mildly surprised. You hadn’t been informed Jaehyun was taken off the case when your team had assembled that morning, Namjoon assigning everyone a task for the day. You wrack your brain, attempting to remember if you had seen the detective at all that morning, but you come up dry.

“What do you have on the vic?”

Your partner Jin’s voice pushes you out of your thoughts and you force yourself back to the present, returning to your mental crime scene analysis.

“The victim was found around eight this morning by a delivery truck who usually drops food off for one of the local bakeries.”

Yeosang motions for you and Jin to follow him and you do, trailing the detective as he leads you to a narrow brick alley at the edge of the lot. He steps to the side as you and Jin study the alley. The familiar scent of copper and rose makes your throat dry as your mind flashes back to your hotel room, but you close your eyes and exhale, forcing your pulse to slow down and pushing the memory into the recesses of your mind.

“There are more stab wounds than last time,” Jin points out, pointing to the victim’s chest and thighs. “The amount of blood signifies she was killed here.” Jin points to the victim’s head. “Their hair isn’t even black.”

“So the unsub is devolving,” you muse aloud. “Someone or something must have triggered him.”

Jin hums in agreement. “With how deep the stab wounds are, you would almost think that this was a different unsub than the other crimes.”

“What do you mean?” Yeosang asks, frowning. “We have two killers on our hands?”

“Doubtful,” you answer. “When an unsub devolves, they grow sloppier, leaving behind evidence they usually wouldn’t have or changing parts of their MO. In this case, the stabbing and rose are consistent, but the finer details such as the lamb’s blood are missing.”

“What would cause something like that?” Yeosang says, voice raising slightly.

“Maybe something in the unsub’s life went wrong,” Jin suggests, standing and crossing his arms. “A rejection, a loss, maybe. This means that they’ll be sloppier and keep leaving clues that hopefully we can trace back to them.”

“So we just have to wait for him to keep killing until he leads us to him?” Yeosang demands, disbelief and frustration evident in his tone.

“Of course not,” Jin says evenly, despite Yeosang’s rising hysteria. “If you detectives were so worried about the lives of your people, maybe you should have shared all of the evidence in the case with us from early on.”

“That was Detective Jaehyun’s call, not mine,” Yeosang grits out, hands clenched into fists. “I don’t appreciate what you’re implying, Agent Seokjin.”

“I’m not implying anything.”

Jin’s face is cold, tone apathetic as he addresses Yeosang. He arches an eyebrow coldly, continuing, “I’m just saying that maybe if the NIS had all of the facts for this case, we might have been able to find something by now.”

Yeosang sputters, and Jin turns away, already refocusing his attention back on the body. You give the steaming detective a sympathetic smile, bending to pick up the flower resting in the victim’s hands when your skin pricks as though it has been stabbed by the rose’s thorns. You immediately stand and whirl around, but aside from familiar police vehicles and officers, you are met with nothing. Yeosang gives you a questioning look, and you wave your hand dismissively. After another scan of the lot you turn back towards Jin, ignoring his concerned look.

Despite this, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched. 

“Y/N.”

“Namjoon.” You nod at your team’s leader as you pull out a plastic office chair, settling across from the aforementioned man.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” you admit, rubbing your hands against your legs soothingly. “A little spooked, but this isn’t the first time one of us has received a note from one of our unsubs.”

“That’s true,” Namjoon muses. He spins in his chair slowly, twisting enough that you hear the creak of his chair but not enough that his body ever completely turns away from you. He steeples his hands on the mahogany desk in front of him, case files spread across the wooden surface haphazardly.

After a moment, you clear your throat. “I heard that you forced Detective Jaehyun off of this case.”

“I did,” Namjoon says slowly. “He was withholding information from this investigation.”

“I see,” you say, throat dry. Your body fills with nervous energy as you contemplate what to say. Namjoon speaks before you do.

“I was speaking with some of the other BAU members, and we’ve all agreed that the unsub seems to be targeting you.” Namjoon smiles, but it’s devoid of any friendliness. “I’m sure you’ve thought of it by now, right?”

You nod, unable to force yourself to speak, and Namjoon continues. “The NIS Director caught word of the note that was sent to you last night, and he wants you off the case. Conflict of personal interest, he said.”

“If this is about my ability to handle this case, I assure you that I can — ” You say quickly.

“I know.” Namjoon says, holding up his hand and effectively silencing your protests. “Which is why I’m not taking you off this case. But going forward we’re going to need to be honest with each other, okay?”

Somehow, you know that Namjoon is speaking on a level that transcends your current conversation. With a growing sense of dread, you are aware that Namjoon knows that Jaehyun had told you about the notes. You briefly wonder how he knows, if Jaehyun ratted you out. You clench your fists, waiting for a reprimand similar to the one Namjoon most likely gave Jaehyun for not telling your team leader earlier.

It never comes.

You stare at Namjoon silently, unsure of what to say. Seconds stretch on between you. Finally you find strength within you to nod, and Namjoon smiles sharply.

���Good. Now tell me what you and Jin found at the crime scene earlier.”

You stare at the case files, your eyes drooping.

The rest of your team left long ago, hushed whispers and a few worried glances thrown your way. You ignored them, choosing instead to concentrate on the pictures of victims in front of you until your eyes burned tiredly. No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t come up with anything linking the unsub to the victims. You feel so small, so unsure, and this makes everything you had been feeling towards the case worse.

Finally, you sigh, standing and gathering your things. You grab your phone, groaning as the time is reflected on the screen. It’s too late to hail a cab, the method of transportation you had assured the rest of your team you could use to get back to the hotel when they had left earlier.

You idly scroll through your phone’s app store, looking for a rideshare app that you can use to get back to your hotel and pushing open the precinct’s glass doors when your foot collides with something solid. You try to steady yourself, but it’s too late. 

Your hands find purchase with something warm and sticky, and it takes a moment for you to gain your bearings. When you do, your eyes land on a foot. Your eyes follow it to a leg, and then up, up, and when your eyes finally focus on the owner of the foot you scream.

It’s Taehyung.

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[ayashitetsuko]

Done with Kylie and Eduardo. So here is my Roland headcanon collection:

1. Struggling with anxiety. Undergoing treatment with a psychologist for it. At first, he wanted to keep it as a secret. But one day he finally told the others about it. As a reaction, Garrett pointed at Kylie and Eduardo and said, “Look. She’s grieving, he has rejection sensitivity, and I can’t walk. You CAN talk to us about your anxiety.” 

2. Sings in a choir. Likes to sing Amazing Grace to pump himself up. (And yes, this was inspired by this Jason Marsden interview)

3. A virgin. Does not intend to wait until marriage, but he does wait for that someone special. He even has a scenario on how he wants to do it. It involves roses and all those mushy stuff. 

4. A good Christian boy.

5. After being mocked by his friends for wearing THAT purple pajama set, he decides to just fuck it and starts a collection of crazy pajamas. His favorite is a shark-shaped onesie.

6. Has only ever done two rebellious things in his life: Joining GB and sneaking to a planetarium with a girl that he dated. His parents have questions about his career path but they do not explicitly condemn it (unlike Eduardo’s). 

7. Had only ever skipped school once in his entire academic career: When he had to undergo appendicitis removal surgery. 

8. Has an aunt who is an amazing cook. On Christmas Eve, Roland decides to bring his XGB friends to her home to have dinner and just hang out. He knows that Kylie will be alone on Christmas Eve, Eduardo will have another fight with his brother, and Garrett is always game for good food.  

9. Talk to all the machine he’s working with. Including Ecto-1.

10. Never been very athletic but has recently mastered the handstand. 

11. Was a book fairy. Liked to leave neatly wrapped books in random places for people to pick. Has been thinking about doing it again. 

12. Changed his mind about joining FBI.

13. Still dreams about Syren. 

Birthday: May 5th. A Taurus. Grounded and reliable but likes the finer things in life. A Ravenclaw.

[shirtlesssammy]

4x17: It's a Terrible Life

How have we not recapped this yet? Man, this one holds a special place in Boris’s heart -- even if it’s a Cas-less episode. (Natasha: I LITERALLY said the same thing.)

Then:

This is just gratuitous

Now:

Okay, by this point we know the premise of this episode. I’m just going to list all the Well Respected Man things Dean Smith does. 

He wakes up at 6:00am to an iPod. 

He steams his rice milk.

He wears suspenders and cufflinks. 

He drives a Prius.

He turns off the hard rock for NPR. 

Dean Smith is the Director of Sales and Marketing at Sandover Bridge and Iron. 

He types memos in Word.

He uses a headset to talk on the phone. 

He plays office mini-golf while schmoozing on said headset. 

He watches Project Runway (Ok, Dean Winchester totally watches that too, lbr.)

HE EATS SALAD.

He says the word ‘vis-a-vis’.

His boss Mr. Adler is very impressed with him. Good stuff!

He works late.

He is thinking of doing the Master Cleanse. 

He leaves at 5:30 (or really a couple minutes before, rebel!)

On the elevator ride out of the building, another passenger asks if he knows Dean. Dean, focused on his Blackberry, does not recognize the dude. The other dude won’t let it go and Dean tells him to “save it for the health club” before leaving. 

Sam Wesson works in the Tech Support section of Sandover. He mainly tells people to turn it off and back on again. Works every time! Sam and another buddy, Ian, head for coffee. They ask Paul, another worker, if he wants to join them. He’s busy working! Okay, okay, wait one moment. Paul got caught surfing porn on company computers and he still has a job!? WOW. 

Ian grabs some office pencils in the break room. (And we get a nice little intro shot from within the microwave….very nice easter egg for us second (and beyond) viewers.) He then asks Sam about the dreams he’s been having. Sam tells Ian that he dreamed that he saved a grim reaper named Tessa from demons. Ian finds that HILARIOUS. 

At his clown car sized cubicle later, Sam drifts off, only to have vivid visions of murder and monsters --and Dean’s in them. He bolts awake, and looks around disconcerted. 

Sam takes a walk and ends up in the same elevator as Dean again. They eye each other warily. Sam asks Dean what he thinks of ghosts. TOTALLY NORMAL ELEVATOR TALK. Dean hasn’t really given them much thought. Vampires either. Sam decides now is a good time to corner a perfect stranger and tell him about his CRAZY dreams. That’s what a journal is for, Sam! Dean dismisses this crazy man and exits the elevator. 

Sam starts researching (AW BABY) the monsters he’s been dreaming about. Ian interrupts him and tells him that he got an email telling him to report to HR. He’s not too worried as he heads off to his fate. Sam then hears Paul freaking out because he just lost a whole day’s work. 

Paul stays way past closing time trying to find his lost files to no avail. His breath puffs. They must turn the temp down after hours at Sandover. He heads to the breakroom, sticks a plastic fork in the door of the microwave and sticks his head in the microwave, and hits cook. GOOD STUFF. 

The next day, as Paul’s body gets carted away, the entire office looks on, including Sam Wesson and Dean Smith. Dean thinks there’s something weird going on. He looks up Paul’s personnel file (um, like whoa, how did he get access to that?) and learns that he was set to retire in two weeks. Curious. 

Sam is curious as well, but Ian is too busy working to engage. Dean calls Ian up to his office. Dean points out that there were just a few errors in a form he filled out yesterday. Ian is very remorseful. Dean doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal. He just wants him to fix the errors. Very un-Ian-like, Ian starts freaking out over his mistakes. Ian runs to the bathroom and Dean follows. He finds Ian staring at himself in the mirror. His breath frosts just before all the water and soap turn on. He insists Ian leave with him. Ian turns to look at Dean, and stabs himself with a pencil. GUH. Dean sees the reflection of an old man in the bathroom stall door as Ian dies. Dean calls for help. 

Dean is relaying the events to the authorities when he sees Sam looking on. Later, he calls Sam to his office. 

For Thirst Science:

Sam and Dean learn that they both started working at Sandover three weeks prior. (Dean! You picked a hell of a week to start the Master Cleanse!) Sam asks Dean if he saw something when Ian died. Dean doesn’t quite admit it but he saw a ghost! Sam wonders about the suicides. “What if these suicides aren't suicides? I mean, what if they're something not natural?” 

Sam brings up his dreams again. “So you're telling me that your dreams are special visions and you're some kind of psychic?” Lololololol. No, OF COURSE NOT. Sam shows Dean emails that Ian and Paul got that sent them to HR on the 14th floor --the HR office is on the 7th floor. Hmm. They decide to head to the 14th floor and room 1444. 

Mr. Blandface McBlanderson heads there first. It’s an old storage room. The air gets frosty, electronics buzz on. Sam and Dean rush down the hallway after hearing the man’s cries. The door is locked but Sam Fucking Wesson just busts it open. Dean is duly impressed. Sam is too. 

The ghost old man attacks Sam and Dean but Dean smashes him away with a wrench (an IRON wrench).

Decompressing back at Dean’s place, Sam longs for beer. “I’m on a cleanse,” Dean explains as he gets him a water. “I got rid of all the carbs in the house.” Oh DEAN.

At the end of this cleanse you chalk a pentagram on the floor, light a black candle, and barter your soul to get rid of those last five pounds

They compliment each other on their ghost fighting prowess. Sam “Boy Wonder” Wesson briefly tells Dean about how he feels out of place in his life. That’s SO MUCH oversharing, Sam! They decide to hit the research track. Dean finds………..the GHOSTFACERS. 

We montage our way through Smith & Wesson’s research, interspersed with Ghostfacer tips. A guy named Sandover turns out to be the ghost - a workaholic who lived for his company. Turns out he’ll kill for it too. They trace a number of historical deaths to Sandover employees. It turns out that the room with the ghost attack was Sandover’s office. 

The Ghostfacers continue to educate Sam and Dean on the finer points of ghost hunting: SALT. IRON. GUN.

Dean absorbs this, then wonders where one might even purchase a gun. Isn’t there a waiting period? Oh, sweet summer child. This here is the United States of America and it’s far too easy to get a gun. The Ghostfacers lesson continues...

Ed: The aforementioned super-annoying Winchester douchenozzles also taught us this one other thing. You have to burn the remains.

Harry: Okay, this next part gets a little gross. Sometimes you might have to dig up the body. Sorry.

Ed: It's illegal in some states.

Harry: All states.

Ed: Possibly all states.

Smith and Wesson return to the office to search for pieces of non-cremated Sandover. Sam gets cornered by a baby-faced security guard, leaving Dean alone to continue the hunt. In Sam’s elevator, electronics start to glitch. It’s probably nothing! The guard pries open the elevator door and crawls out onto the next floor.

The elevator slips and the guard falls victim to the blood cannon. Sam adds this incident to his list of Terrible Things That Happen in Elevators.

Sam and Dean reconnect by a historical display which includes Sandover’s gloves. Those gloves seem like likely candidates for remnant DNA...and in short order the ghost proves them right. Old Man Sandover zaps in as they break the glass. They fight!

Sandover looks like he’s got the upper hand, lowering his brain-zapping fingers to Dean, when Sam lights the gloves on fire. Sandover goes up like a torch.

Smith and Wesson are amped up after the fight! Sam wants to hunt ghosts full time. Dean scoffs at this. “How would we get by? Stolen credit cards, eating diner food drenched in saturated fats, sharing a crap motel room every night...You don’t want to go fighting ghosts without any health insurance!” Wise words. 

For Look at this Well-Prepared Sunshine Science:

Sam confesses that his hunting dreams featured Dean as well. “What if that’s who we really are?” Sam wonders. 

Dean defends the reality of his life. HE WENT TO STANFORD. His father’s name is Bob, his mother’s name is Ellen, and his sister is Jo. Excuse me. I’m just going to….stand outside my door and HOWL MOURNFULLY about this with the local coyotes. 

“We’re supposed to be someone else.” Sam tells Dean that he started at Sandover because he broke up with Madison - but now her number leads to an animal hospital. (I swear to god, I’m gonna chew off my own arm at this show.) Sam says that Dean’s more than just a corporate suit. Dean shoos Sam from his office. 

The next morning, Sam’s back at the daily grind. He steps back from his phone and then swings a crowbar at it, Office Space style. 

Upstairs, Zachariah smarms his way into Dean’s office and clucks that he looks tired. He’s heard good things about Dean and offers him a generous bonus.

Zachariah hints that a big promotion could happen in 8-10 short years of constant work and sacrifice. The joy in Dean’s eyes fades. Dean turns it down and tells Zachariah that he plans to quit. “I have some other work I have to do,” Dean tells him. “This - it’s not who I’m supposed to be.” Zachariah smiles and zaps Dean’s brain. The camera desaturates.

“My god am I hungry,” a confused Dean observes as Zachariah chuckles. (Stop reading Goop, Dean! Get off that cleanse!) Zachariah explains that he’s Castiel’s boss, and he’s on Earth to ensure that the Winchesters fulfill their destiny - as hunters! 

“You’re a hunter,” Zachariah explains. It’s in Dean’s blood. (I hiss at this.) And if Dean works hard enough, he’ll do everything he’s “destined to do. All of it.” GUH. Zachariah urges Dean to embrace his life. It could be worse, after all!

Semi-quote Kinda Life, Baby:

Good stuff

Did you try turning it off and then on? 

Look, man, I don't know you, okay? But I'm gonna do a public service and let you know that you overshare

How the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?

I don’t believe in destiny. I believe in dealing with what’s right in front of us 

Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things

 Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[killjoyhistoryarchive]

Photograph by Claire Vogel.

EXCLUSIVE interview with Nate Weaver–director of photography on the “Art Is the Weapon” video

I recently reached out to Nate Weaver (director of photography on the “Art Is The Weapon” video), and he graciously agreed to answer some questions about the filming process. Read on to learn more about the creative process behind the launch of the Danger Days era!

—

1. Are there any props, characters, or concepts that didn’t make it to the video? I watching a behind-the-scenes video for “Na Na Na” and was surprised to see at least a few things that didn’t make it into the actual video. Was there anything that you guys filmed or discussed that weren’t included in the final cut?

You know, I’m a bad person to ask. I was there, but the place was literally blanketed in all these props and dressing that Jason and Gerard had come up with. All the art was carted out to the set days beforehand, and by the time I got there it looked like the Killjoys had been there for a week. I couldn’t keep track. You have to understand that Gerard was the source of all this stuff…Jason was adding and fleshing out plenty of ideas, but Gerard’s creativity was the source of everything and it was very off-the-cuff and free flowing.

2. One of my favorite scenes from the “Art Is The Weapon” video is Kobra Kid flinching and covering his ears at the sound of a gunshot. How much insight did the cast have into their characters’ personalities? Did they ever suggest certain scenes or details for their characters?

It’s really difficult for me to say, on music videos traditionally directors do not get too involved in “directing” the finer points of an artist (or their character). In a lot of music videos, what band members decide to bring to the screen is very much their decision because that character likely is on display in other ways.

That said, I’m pretty sure I remember the idea of Mikey flinching was Gerard’s idea. All the scenes we shot were pre-determined well in advance, so as far as did Ray, or Frank, or Mike come up with any of the scenes, I can’t say.

3. How and why was the Four Aces set chosen? What made the crew decide that a diner/gas station was the perfect place to introduce the Killjoys? Did you consider any other locations before you started filming?

This was a decision made by Gerard (to my knowledge) relatively early on. If I had to guess, the reasoning was practical. It’s tough to find a small geographic area that can give you a lot of different looks and places to play around in. But it was a fun playground!

4. What kind of steps did the cast and crew take to really “transform” the set, making it look like something from the Danger Days universe and not just a generic diner?

Well, I think one of the keys is knowing that we all knew that it was never supposed to look like a diner necessarily. Or a motel. Jason Fijal had a lot of ground to cover. I would guess that he was busy building gizmos like Dr. Death’s radio console and collecting props for a good week beforehand, if not more. And then at that point, it’s just him looking at a list of scenes we have on the shotlist, and dressing those sets the day before. I remember we had to have a couple discussions about how to turn the motel’s front office into Dr. Death’s radio station. But luckily for us, it was all supposed to be post-apocalyptic, makeshift anyway!

5. What was the creative process like? How did you and Gerard work together to make a video that matched his vision?

It was like holding onto a firehose? But I would mean that in the best way. I mean, I’m glad you asked, because I’ve been lucky enough in my music video career to work with some very incredible, creative people. Gerard though is one of the most freely creative people I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet and work with. From the very first meeting, I quickly realized that Gerard had this world very fully realized in his head, and I’d need to hang on and just try to fill the few gaps in his plan with photography and filming approach that fit his vision. Gerard was really the director. And I couldn’t have been more happy than to just help him get all that stuff out of his head and onto the screen. It was fast, it was chaotic, and it was one of the most freely creative shoots I’ve ever been a part of. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

6. What was a typical day at the shoot like? What duties and responsibilities did you have?

(Since mine was only a one day shoot, I have to kind of breeze over the ‘typical’ part.)

I have to comment that there was nothing typical about this shoot…it wasn’t typical because we had so much to shoot in one day, because Gerard was so involved in almost everything, I could go on and on. It was the best kind of not-typical.

A lot of people might think a director is responsible for everything, but really a director is (hopefully), overseeing a lot of talented people and just letting them do their thing and making sure it all meshes to the director’s vision. So if you say Gerard was a director because it was his idea, and he was very interested in certain details of how it was all brought to life, then my job as co-director was doing all the director jobs that he was too busy to do because he was in front of the camera so much. That means breaking rough ideas for scenes into a shotlist, deciding how it was going to be lit, and “gap filling” other creative decisions that needed to be made. Where the camera goes, where the cuts will be, etc.

7. From what you’ve said, it sounds like the schedule was pretty rapid-fire. Do you think it would have turned out differently if the crew had more time, or was the tight schedule the perfect way to squeeze out creative energy?

Well, unfortunately, it’s almost always the case that if you had more time or money there would be improvements. I would have loved for it to be a two-day shoot. But I have to realize that most of those improvements would be to things like lighting, and maybe more coverage on some of the more peripheral concepts Gerard had. But the core of why people seemed to like it as much as they did…all that would have been the same. I doubt it would have been a “better” piece in the fans eyes if we had more time.

And yes, I do think the circumstances of all of it made it a little bit to the screen. It was to be a rapid fire trailer. So if by the end of the day the feeling of “getting things done” came across as urgency on the screen, it all fit together.

8. Finally, are there any fun/interesting stories from the shoot that you could share?

This may already be common knowledge, I don’t know, but when the guys are sitting in the diner eating scavenged food, all the cans were supposed to be vegetarian chili I think. Mikey wasn’t into real chili. But I think what the art department got by accident was either real chili or refried beans? Mikey was genuinely really grossed out by having to eat this stuff, but he barely said a word and at the end of the take was trying to spit it out I think. It was hilarious, but I felt bad he wound up doing something he was so grossed out by! After I called cut he’s like sputtering and trying to get this stuff out and everybody’s laughing.

Before I we finish, I just want to say again how awesome this project was to work on. In making music video, it’s not always what it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes people are difficult, sometimes the conditions are a pain. I was a late MCR fan, I didn’t get “it” until Three Cheers. But going into it, I wasn’t counting on it feeling like a bunch of people getting together and making a short movie for fun, with the added benefit of having some resources to get those fun ideas on screen. It’s so rare to have a great time on a shoot, and then the final product turns out amazing as well. Everybody involved was awesome, and I can’t stress enough how awesomely easy and low-key it was to work with Gerard, Ray, Mike & Frank. It will always be a really fond memory in my life; gratifying beyond words!

[Originally published 08.08.2018]

[fuckingthefictional]

Runaway Lovers

Pairing: Finn Shelby x reader

Warnings: Swearing, suggestions regarding to sex, crap writing?

Requested: yes, part two requested by @hamdehlesmis

A/N: for the part where Finn writes a letter, I’ve made it so the writing is more phonics based. Because I find it unrealistic to have a character who is illiterate to suddenly start reading and writing with the knowledge of perfect grammar and spelling.

Alfie Solomons was a name that struck cold fear into some on the toughest of men.

His cool and calculating gaze was enough to send uneasy chills up anyone’s spine.

He was a man who had red on his ledger and the mighty hand of God on his side.

To most he was a cold and calculating gang leader- with the proclivity of making violent, rash decisions that mainly benefited himself and anyone lucky enough to be considered a friend.

And most were not lucky enough to have that benefit.

Y/N Y/L/N was lucky to be considered a friend- more accurately she was a close relative of the Jewish gang leader.

Alfie’s Mother, was the sister of Y/N’s mother. The two women were close, but drifted apart after they were married to their respective husbands. Only to reunite during the Great War.

That was the first time Y/N had been in proper contact with her mothers side of the family- and thank God she continued to stay in contact with them.

Otherwise her and Finn would’ve been rendered homeless and well and truly fucked.

Y/N forced herself to drag her thoughts away from what would have been, and instead focused on the passing green pasteurs that sped past the train cars window.

The lack of pollution was obvious and made a huge difference. She was able to see the colours of the night sky, along with the scattered stars- such things that felt as if they didn’t exist in Small Heath.

Y/N felt a soft kiss on a stray patch of bare skin below her ear and at the top of her jawline. Finn.

“Stop stressing love, we’ll be okay.”

It was like he had read her mind, “‘m not stressing.” She mumbled into her palm.

“If you aren’t stressing then how come your leg is bouncing?” Finn chuckled as he pressed another kiss to her temple.

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course he would pick up on the finer details, it was just another reason why she loved him.

It wasn’t long before the train pulled into Camden Town Station. The whole station seemed to be rather empty- apart from one man who seemed to be waiting for the trains arrival.

He was an older gentleman, who had a scraggly beard and clutched a cane. His face was partially covered from the hat that topped his head. But on his chest, he proudly bore a necklace that held the Star of David.

It was Alfie.

He had changed a lot, the pictures that Y/N had been shown of him depicted him to be younger, lacking a beard. But the face was the same.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” The older man addressed her, a slight smirk on his face, “My god ‘ow you’ve grown- I remember when you were a bloody babe.”

She turned to Finn, a soft smile gracing her features, “Love this is Alfie, my cousin.”

Both men shook hands, each of them sizing the other up.

“Thank you for letting us stay with you.” Finn nodded at the older man, “we really appreciate it.”

“‘S nothin’ alright?” Alfie boomed loudly, “any person whose a friend of our Y/N/N is a friend of mine- now let’s get your stuff back to my ‘Ouse ‘ey?”

The two teenagers followed the older man, out of the station, their hands interlocked- ready for this next chapter of their lives.

It was difficult not knowing what their future held. And what they would face in this grey part of their lives, but Finn and Y/N knew they were lucky.

Lucky to have a place to stay, lucky to be in London. And most of all: lucky to be with each other.

-

Two months later Y/N and Finn were still as strong as ever, and the pair of them had both gotten jobs in Camden Town.

Finn working down at the docks, where he loaded Alfie’s spirits into the boats that would travel across the Atlantic.

Finn had been clear with his girlfriend’s cousin that he wanted no part in the extremely illegal parts of the business. In other words he didn’t want to be a front runner, Finn was quite happy working behind the scenes or on the sidelines. Doing the smaller less risky jobs that helped boost business.

Thankfully Alfie has agreed with him, saying, “If I got you in trouble yeah, or you got fuckin’ hurt- then my cousin would have my balls hanging up above the fuckin’ fireplace.”

Y/N however had a different job role. As she helped run the books, Y/N had her mothers brains, math was her forte and not to mention her and Alfie were close, and her older cousin kept her well protected and safe.

Their jobs weren't particularly high paid and they’d told Alfie that they didn’t want special treatment when it came to their pay- either way they made enough to pay their part on rent at Alfie’s house (which usually meant paying for the food and occasionally the hot water bill).

But neither Finn or Y/N were disappointed, they were employed and bringing in an income. That was more than they’d done in small Heath.

“Y’know, I finally feel like I’m apart of something,” Finn mumbled as he kissed down Y/N’s bare back, “I finally feel wanted by others, that aren’t You, Ada or Pol.”

“Finn,” The girl sighed as she turned over to face him, “You have no idea how much purpose you bring to other people.” Y/N stroked his hair softly, feeling the bouncy curls slip between her finger tips, “Finn because of you, Alfie is finally reconnecting with his blood relatives- he said that if this hadn’t happened, then he was willing to give up on family. And by coming away from the life you had in Small Heath you’re making Ada feel better about her role as a big sister.”

Finn was in a semi state of shock, he had no idea he had made that much of an impact, “And you?” He asked.

“God Finn,” Y/N pressed her forehead to his, “ever since you pulled me back from that drunk driver, I knew that my life was going to be flipped upside down- that I was going to fall in love.” She licked her lips, “I can’t imagine my life without you- you’re my constant, my everything, the love of my life.”

The auburn haired boy pulled his girl close to his chest, peppering sweet kisses to her hairline, “I love you pretty girl.”

“And I you, Freckles.”

“D’you think we should come clean to Alfie- about my family I mean.” Finn chewed on his lips nervously.

Y/N sighed, “I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow, but for now my love we should get some sleep.”

-

Knock, knock, knock

It was one of those rare days that Alfie was working from home, Y/N had overheard his doctor telling Alfie that he needed to take it easy and rest more.

So of course Y/N forced him to stay at home. It was odd really, the pair had only reconnected a few months ago. But already it felt as if Alfie was coming into the older brother role in Y/N’s life, whereas she was the persuasive younger sister that Alfie never had growing up.

Their dynamic was one that many had never seen, there was constant teasing and banter between the two. And Y/N had been the only one to make demands from the big scary gang leader and live to tell the tale.

“Come in.” Alfie’s muffled voice came from behind the other side of the door.

As Y/N entered the office while balancing a tea tray on her arm, when she looked up she noticed her cousin sat at his desk with his specs on, Cyril layed down at his feet.

“Morning, Alf.” Y/N smiled warmly, “I’ve brought you some tea and biscuits.” She sat down opposite him, as he started across the desk accusingly.

“What do yer want aye?” Alfie squinted his eyes, “you only ever bring me stuff when yer tryna butter me up.”

“Well Is it working?” Y/N looked at her cousin as he poured himself a cup and necked down a biscuit.

“Depends that dunnit.” Alfie responded, raising his brow.

“Well I have some news,” Y/N started fidgeting with her hands, “Some news you might not take too well.”

“Fuckin’ hell- you’re not up the bloody duff are yer?”

The teenager promptly felt herself choke on her own spit, “What?” She shouted, her eyes as round as saucers, “No!” Y/N attempted to recompose herself, “Look What I was trying to get at is that Finn belongs to a family that weren’t good to him, he ran away from his old life after his brother tried to force us apart. And we talked last night about finally coming clean to you Alf, because we appreciate all you’ve done for us and we don’t feel like we’re being truthful and-“

“Y/N!” Alfie cut off her ranted speech, “I know that Finn is a Shelby.” He stated simply, “Do you really think I don’t do background checks on my workers Y/N/N?”

“And you’re okay with him?” Y/N was still in a state of shock,

“Well,” Alfie leant forwards, “ma always taught us to not judge a book by the pissin’ cover aye? Sometimes that shit also includes certain family names.” He paused, pondering what to say next, “Look I kept an eye out for the lad in the first few weeks yous stayed ‘ere, in case there was some spyin’ goin’ on. But there wasn’t, it was just a lovestruck boy who’s willin’ to do anythin’ to make ‘is girl happy. So as far as I’m concerned Y/N/N, he’s a new branch in the Solomons family.”

Y/N could feel happy tears brimming in her eyes, she finally saw what Finn meant. She felt like she mattered, like she had purpose for the first time in a very long time.

-

Two months. It had been two months since Finn had just up and left. Tommy didn't think that his youngest sibling what actually hold to his word- he didn't think that Finn of all people would actually quit the family buisness and leave small heath. 

And with all of that considered, Tommy didn't know where the fuck Finn had gone. And that was a first in Tommy’s experience- he didn't know something. 

It was incredibly frustrating and not to mention Polly was in bits since Finn had just gone missing in action. It wasn't hard to see that there was a soft spot in his aunts heart for the youngest Shelby.

He’d had men search every major city in Britain, knowing Finn couldn’t have strayed too far off the beaten path.

The youngest Shelby never was one for spontaneity, he was too much like his mother for that- he liked to have a plan set out in front of him.

But what made the situation all the more complicated was the war Tommy had made on Sabini, if Finn was in London then there was a large chance that he was in danger.

Tommy didn’t want more blood on his hands, he didn’t know if he could handle more blood on his hands.

-

Dear Pol,

This leter wil onlie be short, but its a leter non the less. All you need to no is that I am safe and happie, and hav started a new life for myself. If you want to meet, then go to Ada’s on Saterday and i will meet you there.

Lots of luv and take care,

Finn

P.S- Y/N is teeching me to reed and rite, it is a work in progres- but I am lerning!

Polly grinned at the letter in front of her, it was most definitely her nephew. Despite it being in letter form, his mannerisms and language hasn’t changed.

The older woman could feel her heart swell with pride for her youngest nephew, deep down Polly knew that the Blinder lifestyle wasn’t for him.

Finn was like Ada in that way- he followed his heart. And his heart has chosen a different path than his brothers.

Polly set the letter down on her desk as she pondered what her next course of action would be, obviously she was going to Ada’s to meet her nephew on the Saturday.

However she was met with the dilemma of how she could get it past Tommy.

One one hand, Tommy was the patriarch of the family- Polly knew that she was practically obligated to tell her older nephew her plans and whereabouts.

But on the other hand, Finn was safe. He was free from a dangerous life, he was happy and he had started a new path.

And that was more than anything Tommy could offer the lad. Polly knew that Finn valued his freedom and happiness over all the money in the world.

Pulling out a cigarette, Polly fiddled with the small stick of tobacco. After igniting it, she took a deep inhale, allowing the smoke to fill her lungs.

Every piece of her heart and soul was telling her to keep Finn safe. Maybe that was just the mother hen in Polly- but she was certain on one thing.

Thomas Shelby was going to learn to live with his actions and consequences of his words, because Polly had no intention of saying a word about Finn’s whereabouts.

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