#i mean my mum might be a bit upset but still.

[rememberthelaughtermp3]

fuck

[izzy-b-hands]

Putting on last year's trans rigs stream from Drawfee before i have to get ready to go out with my mum and her bf today (bc i have the worst feeling in my gut he's gonna make that An Thing for me if given the chance today, aka whenever i eventually need the restroom while we're at Mystic)

[randombush3]

another snippet while I slave away lol

this one hurt a bit to write x

“My mums are lesbian!” he blurts out, excited enough to attract the attention of his teacher. When she appears, he grins at her sweetly; the kind of smile that has melted many hearts, though Nico is unaware of how many people know he exists. “More paper, please.” 

“Nico, you haven’t even tried with your first one.”

She isn’t harsh at all, but he has slowly learnt to stop asking follow-up questions. Six months of exasperated ‘I don’t know, Nicolau’s has taught him that. 

He shrugs. “Okay.”

He learnt what a shrug was the other day, when Mapi told him off for doing it to her. (“Don’t shrug your shoulders at me, Nicolau Putellas!” she had chided playfully. “All I asked was which of your mamas’ houses we need to go to.”)

“Nico, what’s ‘lesbian’?” 

“Mama says football is lesbian. Basketball might be lesbian! That’s why your sister is lesbian.” 

“My mum says that lesbians kiss girls.”

“Mama kisses girls! And Mami. And they used to kiss each other but now they don’t speak and me and my sister swap houses.” Nico begins drawing it out for Paula when she peers at him, befuddled. “Here is Mama’s.” A big square, a glamorous-looking woman inside of the blue shape; a stick with a circle on the end of it; the notes he sees in his piano music floating in the air. “And…” he says, tongue sticking out as he concentrates on the opposite half of the page, “here is Mami’s.” 

He draws a football. He picks up the red crayon too, and uses both the blau and the grana simultaneously. “Mami plays football for Barça.” He draws two lines on Alexia’s t-shirt. 11. “Mami made me get 11 at football.” Nico had originally worn the 10, but then the affair had come to light and Alexia was suddenly deep in conversation with his coach and apologising to the boy Nico then had to swap shirts with. 

Then, he drops the crayons in his hand and searches for the stack near Paula. He selects the purple one, gripping it tightly, his friend still listening to him with intrigue. 

“This is me and Lela.” Two stick figures are drawn in the middle of the page; the middle ground between each of the squares. 

Nico sometimes feels stuck between it all. 

When Mami got very sad, he and Elena went to stay with Mapi and Ingrid for a few nights. He held his little sister’s hand as much as he could. He always tries to remind her that he is right there with her. 

Mami once told him that it was his turn to protect Elena. Nico hasn’t forgotten that. 

“I keep Lela safe.” He has encouraged her, slightly selfishly, to call him ‘skipper’, which he has picked up from the Lionesses. Luckily, Alexia has not told him off for it because she doesn’t know what it means. “Lela is my little sister. She is a baby. She doesn’t remember what it was like when Mama and Mami loved each other, but I do.” 

The purple crayon scrapes on the page as he presses it into the white, colour rubbing out in the shape of a heart. “Lela and I are together. Mami tries to take me from her sometimes, but I don’t let her.” 

His story – and ability to make Paula pay attention for longer than ten seconds – has already garnered the quiet attention of his teacher, but she moves closer as Nico continues. The four-year-old leaves out how Alexia usually is inviting him to training with her. With Elena yet to show any interest in football, it remains her and Nico’s special thing, and, of course, she misses him when it is not her turn. 

You usually give your permission if you have no other plans. Alexia is upset that the only hindrance is the little boy who once worshipped her like a god. 

“Nico, why did you want two pages?” asks Paula curiously, assuming he is finished now that his whole family is displayed on the piece of paper. 

He frowns. “Because now I have to do this.” And with that, he tears the sheet in half. 

Paula’s mouth drops open in surprise, as does his teacher’s. 

“What’s wrong?” comes a mature voice, a hand placed on his shoulder just like it is when the other children in his class cry. Nico doesn’t cry. He is strong and brave, like a little soldier. “Did you not like your drawing?” 

“No,” he replies neutrally, “half can live with Mama, and half can live with Mami.” 

“But now you are ripped down the middle.” 

He traces the jagged edges of the halves of his life. One leg is on your side, the other on Alexia’s. 

“I know, but it’s okay. I don’t cry.”

[hopefullygettingtaller]

When The Amazing Devil wrote "You will scream, 'I won't forget you' but I'll cover my cold ears, It cannot be a lie if no one hears. 'Cause although you say good day to me, I know I don't belong. And although you hold my hand and say I love you, you are wrong. 'Cause love does not exist in this garden, there's no feeling. And you say the words so often that I barely know the meaning. And when the flowers are rotten and all cannons shot, I'll scream but you won't hear, 'forget me not'" and when they said "Pray for me, oh children, pray for what I've done, I'll haunt the very wrinkles of your skin" and when they yelled "God made all man in his image, Honey I'm no man, I'm what's left when children go to war" and when they cried "The cracks you made, I filled with mortar, a broken pot can still hold water" and when they whispered "These hands are growing old, they're running out of things to hold" and when we all weeped with them "If I'm good will you come back, If I'm good will you come back to us" and when they scribbled "Let foul men band and heed your hum for that ancient hymn you heard me strumming's nought but fumble-falls and guns and tumbleweeds, love run. It's nought that rum won't solve though some would harm you, none, not one, no one would raise to you a hand nor thumb, not while by you, I stand and hum" and expected people to just go on about their days, and when they said "If I have to be who I was (You're not) Do I have to be who I am" and then they said "'Cause I will suffer silence for the strings you tune. And I'll withstand what's written for the writer in you. Write me well, my love, write me weird, write me willing, write me well." And when we all sang "Shoulder the sky (I can't wait to show you how much) Open those eyes (I know you can be, just let the rain come) There's a kind (Let the rain come down, darling) (Can't you hear it howling) Of calling" and when they made me freeze right where I stood with "Back then, I wasn't hopeful. But now my ink's blood red, not black. And I'll blink like ripping envelopes in the hopes that you'll write back" and BACK TO BACK they wrote "Cause I'm between that just-one-more and drank-too-much again" "And I promise you I'll write I love you with my fingers on your sleeping hand" "And when I think I'm fine you'll visit, and then you'll happen to me, happen to me all over again" and then had the audacity to say "And I'll sing silence, and ask my glass of wine for guidance. I might not make it tonight" and then "They'd paint your eyes with sunsets (my saints, my sigs, my upsets)" and ON TOP OF THAT "You're not a coward 'cause you cower. You're brave because they broke you, yet broken, still you breathe." AND SOMEHOW WROTE "'Cause I'm not trapped with you, you see. you're the one who's trapped with me." IN THE SAME FUCKING SONG ALONGSIDE "Sometimes I fall to pieces just to see what bits of me don't fit" then decided to break some hearts with "We didn't talk, we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands. You said I love you less than when it all began, and I said fewer cause I make jokes to show how broken I really am" and then they were both the man their fathers never were and more than what their mums told them to be. And then there was the utter heartbreak of "If I don't make it back from where I've gone, just know I've loved you all along" being repeated for an entire outro. AND THEN THERE WAS "Remember me I ask, remember me I sing. Give me back my heart, you wingless thing." with "Think of all the horrors that I promised you I'd bring, I promised you, they'll sing of every time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child. Witness me old man I'm the wild." "How bold I was, could be, would be, still am. By God still am" AND THEN THE SHEER FORCE OF THE LINES "Welcome to the storm, I'm thunder. Welcome to my table bring your hunger"

AND EVERY TIME THEY COMPARED THEMSELVES TO THE SAINT OF THE PAINT THAT WAS LEFT IN THE POT, YOUR ANGEL ELLIPSIS, YOUR DEVIL OF DOTS, THE HEARTBREAK THAT ACHES FAR TOO MUCH TO BE SHUNNED, ALL THOSE LETTERS UNSENT, AND THAT GARDEN UNGROWN, THE CAPTAIN OF COURAGE THAT YOU'VE ETERNALLY LACKED AND THE JESUS OF WISHING TO CHRIST YOU'LL COME BACK AND SO. MUCH. MORE.

"This here is not make up, It's a porcelain tomb. And this here is not singing I'm just screaming in tune" ARE YOU KIDDING ME "You try so loud to love me, I cannot seem to hear" and "'Cause If we join our hands in prayer enough, to God I imagine it all starts to sound like applause" IN THE SAME ALBUM WITH "And these plates they smash like waves (place your hand in mine) And on the wind, it howls (how long can this last?)" AND "'Cause these plates, they smash like waves (Place your smile in mine) And the wine stains, hide the tears (Why stay? Hide the-) But that breathing you hear, don't mistake it with sighs. Don't you realize, they're just battle cries, my dear?" And then, when they said "And you, you follow philosophies, but me, I laugh, I choke. 'Well hello my hollow Holofernes' I wink but you don't get the joke" and while we were all busy processing, they reminded us "Your eyes aren't rivers there to weep, but a place for crows to rest their feet" AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON "I chipped my teeth on every joke you cracked" In this essay I will-

[angel-of-the-moons]

It’s found family central up in here I’m loving it. Hobie who’s readers lovable dumbass step in adult child almost. Accidentally called them ‘mum’ once, neither him nor reader mention it (simply just out of not wanting to embarrass him or because reader doesn’t want to push him away without meaning to). But reader’s always there for him in the little ways

Hobie: Hey y/n what’re your plans tonight? Mine are trying to fix the fucking roof of my boat because it’s fuckin’ rainin AGAIN and it’s COLD

Reader: Oh I’m just gonna light some candles, make some stew and have a little wine and get cozy under a blanket :)

Hobie: …..Can I come over plea-

Reader: Yes you may come over I already have some spare pyjamas for you and some of your favourites orange sweets. I knew you were gonna ask, honey ☺️

Awwwwe 🥺

That One Mum-Friend

Platonic!Hobie x Mom Figure!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: None, mostly a short fluff drabble

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

You were only a few years older (at most) than your peers. Hell, a bit younger in some of the cases (cough cough Peter B cough cough), but everyone knew you.

You were the mom friend. The chaperone, the babysitter.

But you couldn't help it, your motherly nature was just so deep into your personality that the two could not be separated. It kind of was the reason why you didn't have many friends outside the Society, most people deemed you too "overbearing" or y'know. Motherly. You'd step in before any "fun" or crazy stuff happened.

You were there to console the others when something happened, when someone was upset, or hell, was just lonely. You were there for them when they needed that gentle hand, or a hug, or a nap in your lap.

Your balanced nature was often why Miguel would pair you with Hobie, or Ben Reilly, to bring them a bit of stability (and to stop Ben from lamenting about his backstory or talking about his muscles for five minutes).

On one mission in particular, Hobie had actually slipped up, and in front of Ben, Peter, and Pavitr and Gwen, he called you "Mum" over the comms. He quickly sputtered and tried to backpedal, but the grin that erupted on your face had already fixed itself there.

You pretended you didn't hear it however, that you weren't paying attention to your comm.

Ben and the others? Never. Let. Him live. It down.

They even gave Hobie things to give to you on Mother's Day for extra effect.

But today? Today, Hobie showed up in your universe, soaked to the bone, his wicks soggy and shoes filled with water.

"Got stuck in the rain, lost the key to my flat, and I don't feel like crashing at HQ because of the Old Man. Can I--"

You chuckled and stepped aside, "Come on, Hobie. You look like a drowned poodle."

"Oi, you havin' a dig at my wicks?" He frowned, walking past you and into your warm, cozy apartment.

"Yep!" You grin, walking over to your linen closet and grabbing some towels, handing them to him.

"Go into the bathroom and get dried off, I might have some clothes that'll fit you. Pajamas at any rate." You hum, walking into your room to rummage through your dressers for something that might fit his tall, lithe frame.

He mumbled a thanks and trudges into the bathroom, his shoes making a depressingly loud squishing noise with every step.

You giggle to yourself and pull out some red plaid pajama pants, and one of your oversized novelty t-shirts.

They should fit.

You knock on the bathroom door and Hobie pokes his head out. He takes the clothes from you when you hand them to him and quickly ducks back to change.

And when he comes out you practically squee.

"Awww! You look so cozy!" You snicker.

"Ohhhhh stuff it." Hobie mumbles, dropping onto your couch and crossing his arms, towel still draped over his head.

"Now Hobie..." You tsk, draping your fluffy, heated blanket over his shoulders, which he automatically snuggles into on sheer instinct alone.

"Is that any way to talk to your mum?"

"Oi! It was one time!" Hobie retorted, trying to cover the blush rising in his cheeks.

"Leave off it, will ya?!"

You grin and grab a tin of sweets, and grab his hand, placing them in his palm.

His eyes get big. His favorite candies; he found them once in your universe, got hooked, and apparently yours was the only one that had them.

You had a shit-eating grin on your face as he popped the candies in his mouth.

"Nahhhh. I'm not gonna. Not when you look like a little kid all snuggled up under that fluffy blanket."

"Hey! Who d'you think you are, eh?" He said, trying to sound miffed, but failing as the warmth from the blanket seeps into his cold body, relaxing into the soft cushions of your couch.

"Oh, me?" You hum, grabbing his wet clothes to be washed.

"I'm the Spider-Mom. Didn't you know that?"

[gucciwins]

Hi would you write something about Josie getting her first period? :)

enjoy this 1k blurb

golden sparks

josie is 13

+

Harry thought he’d be prepared for everything when raising Josie, but clearly, he was wrong because he was standing in front of the door his daughter had slammed in his face. He didn’t know what was happening, but he hoped his little (thirteen-year-old) girl would talk to him. Thankfully, he wasn’t in this alone. Y/N gently touched his back, “It’s okay, honey. I’ve got this. You’ll be okay.” 

He relaxed only for a moment because he knew Y/N was right. Ever since she came into his life, she made everything better. Y/N knocked, asking Josie if it was okay to come in. Harry heard a faint yes, and he watched the love of his life go in to talk to his heart. 

“Dad made a rude comment, and my stomach hurts, and I just want chocolate,” Josie expressed in a voice full of tears.

Y/N sat by her daughter, rubbing a hand down her back, and while Y/N had an idea of what it might be, told Josie it would all be alright. “How about you go in and have a shower? I’ll bring in some snacks. Then, after, we’ll talk about what happened with Dad.”

She was about to leave when she heard Josie scream ‘Mom’! Y/N knocked before rushing in and found Josie sitting on the toilet with her head in her hands. Josie had laid a towel over her lap, and Y/N knew what happened. 

“Josie, honey. Are you okay?” 

She shakes her head no. 

“Okay, you do know about your period, sweetie?” 

“A little,” she whispered. 

Y/N was thankful she had her older sister to help her. Now, she had her own daughter to help guide. “Well, periods start when our bodies are ready to start puberty. It’s every month for some women because God thought we’d all want to carry children, and science made it so that we have to pay for it every month.” 

“Why does it hurt?” 

Y/N frowns, hating to see Josie hurting. “Our bodies react differently. I can get you some pain medicine; a heating pad always works. We can send your dad on an ice cream run?”

Josie perks up slightly, “ice cream?” 

“Mhm…any and all flavors.”

“Please,” Josie agrees. “Do–would I use tampons?” 

Y/N chuckles, “we can start with pads, darling. Go from there, okay, maybe not now. We can talk about it, okay?”

“Okay, mum.” 

“Take a shower, baby. I’ll leave pads for you here. I’ll sit in your room if you need me to walk you through it,” Y/N tells her softly. Josie nods, and Y/N knows she’s scared because she’s not sure what it means, but thankfully, Josie knows she’s not alone. 

Y/N leaves her room and goes to get everything ready. Harry is sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, clearly distressed because his daughter is upset with him. It’s not common for them to disagree, but when they do, it’s the end of the world for Harry. Y/N writes down a list of items for Harry so he can go to the shops while she prepares tea and puts Josie’s sheets in the dryer for a bit. 

“Darling, need you to go to the shops for Jo.” 

Harry is right by her side. “Is she okay? Gosh, does she hate me?” 

“Freeze, baby. Why would she?” Y/N shakes her head. “Never say that; it could never be true.” 

“I told her she was being too emotional over a song.”

Y/N sighs because even Josie probably didn’t understand why she reacted that way. It’s easy to be defensive when our emotions feel out of control.

“Baby, Josie got her period. Her hormones are a mess, and she’s just nervous.” Y/N squeezes his hand. “Give her time.” 

“How much?” He whispers. 

Y/N kisses his lips as she pushes him towards the door. “As long as it takes you at the shops.” 

Harry gives her another kiss, muttering against her lips how thankful he is. “I love you, my sweet angel. Be back soon.” 

With Harry off to the shops, Y/N quickly throws the blankets back on the bed and waits in Josie’s reading chair for her to call out. “Mumma?”

“Still here, darling.” 

“I just bend the wings, right?”

“Correct, bubs.” 

She hears Josie sigh and then hears the sink running. The door opens, and she finds Josie in her baggiest sweats, which Y/N knows were once hers during her university soccer days, and a shirt of Harry’s. “A little better?”

“Only a little.” 

“Let’s get you in bed. Dad’s at the shops should be back soon.” Y/N tells her as Jo slips under covers and sighs at the warmness that engulfs her. 

Y/N sets Josie up with her favorite movie (When Harry Met Sally). She really is Harry’s kid with a promise to be up again when Harry arrives. A few minutes later, Harry rushes in with two bags and two bouquets of flowers. 

She married a sap.

Harry sets everything on the counter. Y/N leans against the fridge as he runs around, putting everything away while taking out a tray under the sink to carry all the excessive snacks he bought for Josie. Y/N doesn’t say anything simply, watches him as he is about to go dot on their little girl. 

“I love you, Harry.” 

Harry freezes and turns to look at Y/N. He grabs the bouquet, placing them in her arms as he pushes her against the fridge to kiss her deeply. Y/N would happily indulge him, but their girl awaits them upstairs. “Be back in a second.” 

Balancing everything on the tray, Harry goes up to see Josie. Y/N knows Harry won’t be coming back down and instead, double checks the door is locked and shuts all the lights off. She peaks into Josie’s room and finds Harry squeezed on her bed, now dressed in sweats and an old shirt of Y/N’s from a fundraiser she did recently. 

“Mumma, come here.” 

“Yeah, Mumma join us,” Harry smirks. 

She rolls her eyes but makes her way into the room, settling on the other side of Josie. All three squeezed on the bed. Y/N knows life is perfect.

[captain-aralias]

someone commented yesterday on my 8th year mpreg that i didn't finish because i had a baby 2 weeks early (a year and a half ago!) (he's still alive - all is well).

and i thought, after reading this comment:

OK, it's time to put the bits that i didn't finish on the internet!!

because i will PROBABLY never finish this fic at this point. but who knows? but also probably not. if you are reading this fic and you would like to finish it, crack on. get in touch. i will help you!

here's the stuff i didn't finish. it's about a thousand words, some cut scenes from chapter 1 and a rough plan for the rest. 👇👇

Chapter 2: Second Trimester

SIMON

Surprisingly, Penelope agrees with Baz about the wedding.

“Magicians are always claimed by their families,” she told me after I’d explained what had happened with Baz. And his mum. And after she’d asked a lot of questions. (Fortunately, I’d already told her about the Humdrum, and that Baz and I had slept together, but it was still a lot to take in.) “There are loads of spells that only work for people with the same name,” she explained. “Magickal objects that only work if they’re passed down through the family. And of course, the Pitches would want to keep an eye on someone with their blood. A lot of magicians have historically been killed by their own relatives.”

“You mean, for power?” I suggested.

“Often,” Penny agreed. “But also, because no one can hurt you like your own family.”

She’s been looking into wedding magic ever since. Baz has been helping her. And then, once she’s finally gone back to her own room, he helps me with the investigation into his mum’s death. 

I thought that would be terrible, but it’s all right working with Baz. Good, even. He’s got an organised mind. And he knows I’m always hungry – especially now – so he brings food up from the kitchen before we start. Unfortunately, we haven’t got much further. We still don’t know who Nicodemus is or why anyone would want to hurt Headmistress Pitch, besides the obvious. But Penny’s made good progress. Last week, she qualified as a magickal officiant. This week, they chose the binding spells. 

She and Baz also decided where the wedding would take place. It has to be somewhere significant to both of us – and our relationship. I suggested our room. 

Baz disagreed. “You’re not even trying,” he told me, like he thought I should put more effort into our marriage of convenience. 

Neither of us wanted to go back to Lancashire, for obvious reasons. And Baz already rejected the Catacombs. So, I said it was fine when he suggested the Wavering Wood. At least, it’s close. 

I’m regretting it now. Now I’m standing outside in the middle of a forest at midnight – because, of course, it has to be midnight – freezing my bollocks off while Penny conjures an altar out of a rock. 

Baz is at my side, looking cool and unruffled. He’s dressed for the weather: in a long dark coat and leather gloves. It’s all very Sexy Vampire. I keep catching dryads sneaking looks at him, then ducking away when I scowl at them. 

“Will you stop fidgeting?” he hisses as I try wrapping my arms over my chest and shift my weight again. “You don’t want to be here. Message received.”

I sigh and drop my arms. “It’s not that.” 

Baz looks surprised. “It’s not?”

I shake my head, although admittedly I don’t want to be here. Now. In the Wood – I’d prefer to be in our room – but I don’t want him to think I’m upset about marrying him when I’m actually OK with it. It’s only a ceremony, isn’t it? We’ve already had sex. We’re already having a baby. 

When you think about it, this is basically a repeat of the time we became roommates. Well, except that this time, there’s a bit at the end where we’re supposed to kiss. I don’t mind that, though. I think I might even be looking forward to it. I think I’d have kissed Baz again before this if I thought he wanted me to. If he ever looked at me the way he did back in Lancashire, instead of sneering in a way that makes it clear that he has no idea how we ended up in this situation. 

He's not sneering now, though. He’s just confused. 

“I’m cold,” I tell him. 

Baz frowns. I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “You don’t get cold.”

He’s right. Or at least, he should be. I can’t really control my body temperature anymore. I keep forgetting. I borrowed a suit from Gareth earlier (I told him I had a funeral to go to) and I’m not wearing a coat. Now parts of me I doubt Baz wants to hear about are aching. 

“I think it’s a pregnancy thing,” I say, sort of grimacing because saying things like that makes me feel like an arse. I’m not even sure I’m right. I haven’t read any pregnancy books, I haven’t had time – I just wish my nipples didn’t hurt. 

Baz grimaces too, though kind of … sympathetically, I think. 

“I see.” 

He looks down at his hands and pulls of his gloves. At first, I think he’s going to give them to me – which wouldn’t help, even if they actually fit – but instead he tucks them under his elbow and brings his palms together.

“Here.” 

There’s an outraged huff from the trees as a small, hot flame appears between his hands. Dryads hate fire – this one will’ve gone right off Baz. (Good, I think. He’s about to be off the market, anyway.)

He holds the fire out to me. “Take it.” 

I stare at him. “Huh?”

Baz scowls. “It won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It wasn’t. I just don’t know how to keep fire going the way Baz can. It either goes out or… it doesn’t. I might not be a fan of the Wavering Wood anymore, but I don’t want to burn it down either. Especially not while I’m in it. And Penny. And Baz is a vampire, he’s flammable. (Can Baz be burnt by a flame he started? I don’t want to find out. This baby needs two parents.) 

Before I can explain myself – Baz never lets me explain myself – he’s taking my hand in one of his, holding the fire in the other. I almost pull back. But … I don’t. I have to trust him. 

I let him drop the little flame onto my palm and it burns 

NOTES (what do they mean? in some cases, even i don't know, but i thought 'oliver' was a fun name for baby as it's simon's original middle name from fangirl without being an obvious reference like - 'davy' or 'jamie' or some ridiculous pitch bullshit)

Backstory – magic is too precious

telling Penny, she thinks its sensible. But weird. 

Baz spells it warmer. No actual ceremony. 

BAZ

Comes back from hunting. 

Sex

SIMON

Napping – Baz and Penny solving the mysteries 

BAZ

They work out the Humdrum hasn’t attacked. 

Carrying to bed

Actual husband / Simon, I am your actual husband.

Summon – backstory from Humdrum, your dad, Simon’s pumping magic into the baby 

SIMON

Confronting the Mage?

He’s like – Simon, this is weird, Malcolm Grimm just wrote to me about taxes, wants to help fight the Humdrum. Simon shouting at him. 

BAZ

“I’m going to be a terrible father.”

Baz tells him he was the Chosen One – wished for a way to end this.

Maybe more sex?

SIMON

Oliver.

cut scenes/different variations - usually i offer some editorial on what this is and why i cut it, but we're so far in the future now folks. again, who knows? i think i cut most of these because they were boring and facewithoutheart's eight months is all about being zippy

“You know when we––”

I nod. I don’t need him to say it, I was there. (We had sex. It was good, until it wasn’t. Until Snow realised who he’d slept with and what that meant for the relationship he actually cares about.)

“Well.” Snow’s looking at his feet now. At the ceiling. Anywhere but at me. “Something … happened after that.”

I imagine quite a few things did. I was kidnapped by numpties, for a start. And kept in a coffin for six weeks. (I doubt that’s what Snow’s referring to.) 

“I mean, because of that,” he says. “Also, the Veil lifted––”

“What?” This isn’t what I expected.

“While you were gone,” Snow says. “Your mum–– I wrote it down. But I left my bag in the hall, fuck. Anyway, she––”

He’s still not looking at me, so it takes him by surprise when I grab him and shove him back against the stone wall of the corridor. 

That gets his attention. His eyes flare with anger. “Baz.”

“What about my mother?”

“Let me go first,” Snow growls. 

I don’t have to do it. I’m much stronger than him and he would talk, eventually. I’ve riled him up enough that he 

//

I’m not going to do that.

Snow’s offering me everything I’ve ever wanted – or close enough. What’s there to think about? What am I doing here? 

I need to tell him I agree with him before he changes his mind. 

//

SIMON

Baz isn’t in Greek. 

That bothers me – although at least I know where he is this time. (Screaming into a pillow probably. Or throwing himself into the moat.) Obviously, I knew he’d be upset – why wouldn’t he be? But I didn’t think he’d be so upset he’d miss more school. He only just got back. 

I’m not expecting to see him in Magic Words, which is our next period, and I don’t. But he’s waiting for me outside the classroom door once the bell goes for morning break. 

“Finished processing?” I ask him. 

“Have you?” Baz retorts, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. (It would’ve been no. I haven’t finished. I’ve barely even started.) 

//

Miss Possibelf says it’s good to have him back.

“It’s good to be back,” Baz says. 

“What does that mean?” I say, even though I’m not in the conversation. 

Baz sighs. “What do you think it means, Snow?” 

But that’s just it – I don’t know. Is he just happy 

//

“Simon,” Penny hisses next to me. “Your magic.”

Now she’s said something I can smell it. Thick smoke. Suffocating. I can see other kids looking at me. Baz turns in his seat to look at me, too. For once he isn’t sneering. (He looks nicer when he’s not sneering. He looks nice. Too thin, but nice. We’ll have a really good-looking baby if it takes after him.)

Miss Possibelf asks me if I need to step outside. 

“No,” I say. “I’m good.” 

I can’t risk being thrown out right now. What if Baz gives me the slip after class? 

[not-5-rats]

imagine Sugar biting the bullet and asking Seth if he would be cool with meeting their mom. (because with how often they talk about him, she’s probably been asking when she can finally meet him) The only reason they were hesitant is because they didn’t want to come off as insensitive.

Sugar gets super nervous whenever doing anything that could make anybody upset but there's an extra layer added to that with Seth cause they love him and don't want to hurt his feelings. The problem is Sugar loves talking about things they like and Seth is their favourite thing to talk about, so their Mum very quickly learned about him and instantly wanted to meet him. Daily messages/calls/voicemails anything to ask Sugar when she could meet him but there were a couple reasons Sugar was afraid to ask:

Firstly, they felt it would be insensitive due to Seths relationship with his Mum and would never want to make him upset (even though in reality Seth would see it as an honour to meet their Mother. The idea that they trust him/care about him enough to let him meet any of their family makes his heart melt)

Secondly, imagine if Sugars Mum wasn't the best at recognising social boundaries and could be quite intrusive. They would be afraid of her saying something to Seth that made him upset or brought up things he didn't want to address especially with their Mum around. And whilst they would hate to hurt Seths feelings the idea of trying to ask their Mum to watch what she was saying would be so awkward and they didn't want to hurt her feelings either!

So when they finally decide to ask the question they were a mess, a MESS. They were sat in Sugars room, their comfort film was on TV as they sat on the edge of their bed, Seth on the floor between their legs as they gently brushed his hair with their hands. Braiding it and undoing the braids only to do them up again. Nobody had spoken in a while, this is just what they did whenever Sugar was anxious/upset but didn't want to talk about it so Seth hadn't tried to prod into what was going on. Finally Sugar spoke

"So sweetheart, there's something I've been meaning to ask you...and I just want you to know there's no pressure from anyone, the decision is entirely up to you and I respect whatever that may be!"

Seth tilted his head up to look at them noticing how they were staring at the wall directly in front of them instead of down at him

"Hm? 's everything okay Sugar?"

He gently pulled their face down to meet his yet still they refused to look at him as their hands kept fidgeting with his hair

"Well, you know I love you alot and I talk about you quite a bit to- well everyone I know. I've been told I talk too much but I don't think so. One person in particular has taken quite the interest in you and has been bugging me...constantly about how much sh- they want to meet you"

They fell silent once more quickly glancing down at his face to make sure he wasn't upset before looking back at the wall, taking a deep breath and continuing

"Said person is infact, my mother, she really wants to meet you and I know you might not feel comfortable with that and I completely understand if you don't wan-"

They were cut off by a soft kiss being planted on their lips as Seth pulled them forward, he smiled as they parted, his voice quiet and comforting

"Darlin' I would love to come meet your Ma, if anything I'm honoured you'd let me meet her"

Tears were forming in Sugars eyes, this is how worked up they had been, they leant forward and kissed him once more, holding their hands just under his chin

"You mean it? You ain't upset with me, this isn't too much, cause hun I don't wanna make you do anything you don't want to d-"

"Sugar, I know this is big deal but you really need to calm down. Why don't we watch this for a bit longer, maybe even cuddle and when you're feeling a bit better we can talk details for when I meet your Ma, that sound good?"

They stared at him a moment a smile threatening to split their face in two before slowly nodding and slipping onto the floor, cuddling up beside him

"...thank you Seth, I love you so much"

"Of course darlin, I love you more"

"What? I love you more!"

"Nah I love you the most"

"I love you the mostest"

(This went on for ages)

[bibibbon]

Horikoshi and Izuku (RANT)

It's to no one's suprise when I say that horikoshi hates his own main character but the problem is YOU CAN HATE YOUR OWN CHARACTER BUT MAKE THEM WELL WRITTEN AT THE SAME TIME (gege is capable of doing it with yuji)!!! Hori doesn't do this instead of logically making izuku suffer a bit in the narrative with stuff that is LOGICAL AND MAKES SENSE he literally just gives izuku BS problems to overcome and worst consequences. Look Iam not saying he has to like izuku and make everything good for him but I am saying he should treat izuku properly when it comes to the narrative and DEVELOP HIS CHARACTER. The main reason why Iam so upset about this is because Izuku is an interesting character who has so much potential to be better and he is the perfect main character for a story like MHA. I have said this before but izuku has SO MANY Parallels WITH SO MANY CHARACTERS it could be something as simple as shigaraki and izuku parallels or something as vague and hidden as aizawa and izuku.

Here are some issues that hori could of used and challenged his MC with:

Have him realise that he is WORTH more then he thinks he is - this is something very present within izukus character and hori did try/attempt to do this during the early arcs of MHA and the overhaul arc but it failed. I think this is one of the reasons as to why he is so self sacrificial is because he doesn't see his worth and lets be honest the narrative doesn't help him acknowledge it/ it makes it hard for him to do so but even if that is the case I do want to reach a point where he sees himself as worthy as of someone with worth.

Spend longer on Izuku's insecurities especially about him being an OFA user - it's without doubt Izuku has a lot of pressure to live up to when it comes to being the next and LAST OFA user which is something hori does try and tackle in the overhaul arc and a bit in ch 306 but it falls flat a bit. I feel like it would be better to have Izuku doubt himself from the get go when he gets the quirk and realises that he CAN'T AND DOESN'T know how to control it. Also, when Izuku realises he is THE LAST USER give us his thoughts, his fears, his anxieties. These are things that he would feel he is just a 16 year old with so much pressure on him that no one could handle.

Have Izuku realise that the way Katsuki and the way people treated him wasn't right also SHOW us how he feels about Katsuki and the apology in general - This is probably one of my biggest points because let me be honest katsukis redemption arc fell off for many reasons one of them being the lack of the victims opinion and before anyone tells me," oh izuku is kind he will forgive him and understand" or "obviously, Katsuki will be forgiven izuku cares for him" THOSE ARE BS CLAIMS BECAUSE IN THE EARLIER ARCS YOU CAN SEE IZUKU'S ANGER and negative emotions towards KATSUKI which hori just forgets about. Also, have Izuku acknowledge that yes people treated me badly and that I DESERVE BETTER

Have Izuku benefit from his relationships with other characters - what I mean by this is that in EVERY one of Izuku's relationships he never really gains something from them which makes it seem like he is distant with them so have the relationships he has go both way and not be one sided ( i wil go into deeper detail another time)

Focus on how getting a quirk has impacted Izukus life whether this be positive or negative - ever since Izuku has gotten into UA his life has dramatically changed but he hasn't. The only thing that cha he's about izuku is that he got a quirk that's it. Make izuku question this change make him try and understand if he likes this change or not? I mean he has friends now, his mum supports him, he has a father figure ( all might), he goes to one of the best schools and more. Have him feel confused about the change have him question if people would still accept him if he was his middle school self. Also focus on the negatives of him getting a Quirk, make him feel like an outsider he can't control his quirk etc.

Focus on Izuku's intelligence - Izuku is supposed to be intelligent this is when it comes to school work which we often DO see and his intelligence of strategy which is once in a while type of thing that WE NEED MORE OF. Have him rely on his intelligence to get by, when he is exploring with OFA have him try his own unique ways of releasing the quirk like OFA is power stockpile quirk so for it to do anything it needs to be released from the body which is something izuku can experiment with and him and mei ( a duo I love) can create support items to help this

Have him differentiate himself from all might / realise even all might is flawed as a hero - I mean NO ALL MIGHT BASHING but just have Izuku' s obsession of all might die down have him realise that all might has made mistakes and that he isn't some big great undefeatable hero but someone who tries his best and is reckless. Have Izuku understand that he can't necessarily be an exact copy of all might and that even all might caused some problems in hero society (unintentionally)

Izuku's anger - it's not unknown that when fighting and in the heat of a battle izuku can get angry especially when someone close to him is hurt. Iam all for that so I feel like it would be better to dive deep into that and explore why that happens also give him some consequences from those actions

Challenge Izuku's own moral beliefs - have him realise that hero society is flawed. That heros are flawed and so are villains. Have him question and change his morals especially when it comes to shigaraki. Can he really save him? Or is gran Torino right is death the only way to save shigaraki? Have Izuku strive for a better more equal society one that helps people and doesn't isolate others because of their differences?

Confront the problems he has with adults like trusting an adult to help you etc - we don't see this a lot with Izuku and honestly a lot of adults have failed izuku in his life which is sad like let's be honest even all might and inko failed izuku in their own ways

These are just a few ways you can improve Izuku's character and tbh there are definitely more I haven't included. You can also make izuku suffer from the narrative with consequences THAT MAKE SENSE!!!!

[perplexingluciddreams]

I ask because it could be either: do you say you are a transsexual because of language borrowing, or because it feels more right to you than transgender--I also relate to transsexual, so I thought I would ask

A bit of both I think.

Transgender definitely doesn't feel right. I don't like the tactile-ness or shape of the word. And I think because I feel different and have different experiences of gender and sex than what seems a lot of trans people... it feels wrong to use that same word that is used by majority group.

My experiences of gender and sex definitely fall outside of the "norm". I am not typical. But I also have never found anyone else who is same or even much similar to me, with gender experiences.

Transsexual definition feels a tiny bit closer. One of the main changes I want to make is my chest. And that is a sex change category thing, not gender change category thing. However, I am also happy as being female. I am not upset at being called female or being apart of female group. (I think I mainly use the word transsexual because I prefer the tactile-ness and shape of it).

(Oversimplifying sex (and gender a bit too) here, I know it is not as black and white as binary male female. But this is what I understood growing up and until very recently learning more about intersex from here on tumblr.)

Never felt like I should be grouped with boys as a kid, always felt comfortable and fine grouped with other girls in school and stuff. And I say "other girls" because for me, by default I was a girl growing up. Everyone called me as a girl, and I didn't have ability to put words to myself yet. So by default I was what words everyone called me as. And by default I was part of whatever group other people decided to put me in. Due to that, I had experience of growing up as a girl. Disabled girl, yes, which hugely impacts overall experience - I knew I was different from everyone else no matter about gender - but still girl.

I often nowadays call myself a boy. I like the word boy. And I have my own definition in my head that is just the Ezra version of "boy". I don't think of myself as part of overall boy "category" or group. I don't fit in there. I also don't fit in with girl category/group. But feel a bit more comfortable be automatic put in that category because I am used to that, it is familiar.

Socially, I don't fit in anywhere. Not only due to gender. Gender-wise, I don't feel that I fit in anywhere. I am on the outside of everything.

For my transition, a lot of parts that seem like gender-related-stuff is actually mostly explained by other reasons (sometimes with gender as smaller sub-reason, or as positive side effect, or not at all related).

For example: name change is because birth name was very connected to trauma, and also changing name means I feel more connected with it and more in control. Mum helped pick name! Masculine name is just because I like it and it feels right to me. Basically same story with change of pronouns. (Here is gender as sub-reason and positive side effect).

Even the fact that I want my chest removed/dramatically reduced - this is in big majority part due to physical discomfort and pain. Due to sensory issues, chronic pain, hypotonia and muscle weakness, and more. I do have some dysphoria around my chest. But mostly about how huge it is. (Here, gender is small sub-reason, and it would receive positive side effect of top surgery or dramatic breast reduction. But big majority reason for need this is the physical - sensory and discomfort and pain).

As for other physical traits... I feel very neutral. I like some parts of my body. Other parts I feel completely neutral, no bother. I only really care if something causes me physical/sensory discomfort or pain.

Due to disabilities, I am not aware of how the entire of me really looks like. And especially not aware of how anyone else would perceive me. Or how they might mentally categorise me based on my appearance/presentation. So I almost completely miss out on that aspect of dysphoria that I see lots of people describe.

I occasionally start to think hypotheticals and wonder what is in someone else's head when they see me. Mainly that is around anxiety about be judged or mocked for visible disabilities - because I have had that a lot in my childhood. And realistically, my disabilities is the (probably, most likely) first thing anyone will notice when looking at me. I do sometimes wonder how someone else sees me gender-wise... but always come to the conclusion that I just can't know, I don't have enough awareness.

But I still get conflicting feelings about it all. And I just have a lot of confusion about gender and sex and my feelings about them, all the time. I struggle a lot to identify and understand my own feelings. And with this topic I know I feel a lot of complex things.

I think I might never really fully figure it out or be able to explain it to someone. Especially not in only one or few words. So the words is a really hard part of that.

My experiences are very very very coloured by my disabilities. My disabilities affect my perception and comprehension of gender and sex overall. I suspect that some of my feelings is directly caused by my autism. My experience of gender is completely entwined with being as disabled as I am.

Whenever I have these thoughts spinning around in my head, I always come to the same final conclusion: Even if I never find any other words to label or describe or explain... it doesn't matter so much. Because most of all, I am just me, just Ezra.

I did quite a ramble here! I hope I answered your question in there somewhere. Have a nice day/night/whatever time it is for you! 😊👍

[lixenn]

long vent post, this mostly me just word vomitting my feelings into the voide to cope, feel free to ignore

Got five hours of sleep last night (totally my own fault cause I napped in the afternoon which fucked over my schedule) and I'm so tired. I could technically nap again but this is kind of what got me in this mess so I might just try to power through.

I mostly didn't sleep because of the nap but I also started reading dark fic to distract myself from feeling sad and upset and just generally kind of shitty which naturally made me feel even more like crap. I thought I kicked that bad habit but apparently I didn't which means I need to pay more attention to my emotional state and what I consume in the future... yay about that I guess.

I know I should go outside cause it's been days since I left the house but it's hard OTL it's raining so motivation is even lower than usual. Also my mum wants me to cook this one thing (it's this soup paste thingy? which can be added to several dishes for taste) and I'm so fucking tired I dunno if I can handle making it today because there's a lot of prep work involved. Nap... I want to nap so bad... maybe i can do a power nap on the couch...

Also, I really want to finish chapter 5 but it's dragging a bit. I dunno if it's too dialogue heavy... like my writing is generally pretty damn dialogue heavy but this one hmmmm... yeah. I will need to sort out the one scene I'm working on and then figure out the next one. In general I'm kinda unstasified with my writing rn which might just be because of my low mood and because I stared at it too long but it still sucks feeling that way.

Art wise I'm doing... kinda okay? could be better. could be worse. I wanted to draw a new oc and used a reference on the charater she was inspired by but in the end I just drew the character because... yeah... the pose was too difficult to adjust for proper desgin change OTL I might just finished it anways and just make it a fanart but I put it on hold for now. I will try designing her on actual paper later though I really don't know about hairstyle... I might need to look at pinterest for inspo. Also I keep having ideas for drawing but no real motivation to actually make it because I know it will be difficult. I might need to go back to emote making for something easy to do.

Also I can't continue rewatching that let's play I did recently cause Resident Evil is not something I should watch when I feel like this (the fanfics that fucked me over where RE ones because of course they are). But I'm still in a horror mood so more fluffy things to watch don't hit the vibe. But I wanna watch something... But I can't watch what I want to watch cause it's bad for the brain. Ugh... I'll need to dig through my let's player's old stuff to see if something will scratch the itch without making me bleed.

[thelilreddragon]

I see you accept prompts/drabbles. So here’s one from me:)

Prompt(James/Lily AU where they live): “so love…how was Harry’s first day in kindergarten?”

"You will not believe the day I just had," Lily exclaimed, walking through the door, and throwing her bag into the corner. Trailing behind her, are two young kids, and a tall woman with soft brown hair.

"So, love! How was Harry's first day at Kindergarten?" James called from their kitchen. They had a deal. Whomever picked up their magical menace was responsible for making supper at the end of the day.

"Your son, takes after you!" Lily marches into the kitchen with her friend, and the pair sit at the island. "I tried to drop him off, but he got upset and wouldn't let go of my hand. Makes sense! But he started crying, and I couldn't leave him. I ended up sitting in the corner the whole time."

"Hang on... Harry, do you want to show Mione where you play? The grown ups need to have a chat, okay?"

"Am I in trouble?" Harry asks, looking up at her, twiddling his thumbs.

"Yeah, are we in trouble, Wily?" Hermione asks, grabbing at Harry. The two look at her with sad puppy eyes, and Jean interjects.

"No, kiddos! We're going to talk about your day, and make sure you two can hang out as much as possible! You're not in trouble, my loves!" Jean quickly clairifies, and Harry and Hermione both grin.

"Otay! Come Miones! I gonna show you all my dwagons! And I gonna show you my nifflers! And-" the excited voices trail off, as the two run down the halls of the house.

"I made you both some tea," her husband says. Lily passes the plate of sugar and cream over to Jean. "Lils filled me in a bit. What exactly happened?"

"Well... I wasn't the only mum dealing with a kid in meltdown. I sat next to this lovely woman; Jean Granger, and we had a nice chat. Her daughter, Hermione, was out playing with Harry."

"And how old is your son Harry?" Jean had asked.

"He's just turned five in July. How about your girl?"

"She just turned six last week! She's a bright little one, but we thought it might be best if we ease her into primary school."

"That is such a smart idea!" They sit in silence for a minute, just watching their kids play together, when they hear Harry yell out.

"No, Mione!" Harry was sat in front of some blocks, and building what resembled a church, and his friend had found a dragon.

"This is my Dragon, Harry! Lookit!"

"Mione, watch my blocks!" While flying around, Hermione got too close to Harry's building, and knocked the whole thing over.

"Oh noes, Harry! I broken your blocks!" She starts to sniffle, and tears stream down her face. Hermione starts getting up to walk away. Jean moves to get up to go and sort it out, but Lily places her hand on her shoulder.

"Hang on. Harry's about to do something," Lily whispers, and Jean waits a moment.

"That's okay, Miones! I can always rebuild it! Where you go?" Harry asks, as Hermione stands in front of him.

"You don't want to be my friend anymore. That's okay." She sniffles, and Harry stands up to face her.

"Just cuz my building broked, doesn't mean we can't be friends anymore! I still love youse!" Harry puts his hand on her shoulder and kisses her cheek.

"I promise to always be your friend!"

"Always?"

"Always!" The pair start to glow golden, and both Lily and Jean stare at eachother, panic on their faces.

"And that's why I'm over here. Lily said that you two could explain what's going on. All I know is that my daughter is magical." Jean explains.

"Yes. Hermione is a witch. I grew up in an entirely magical family. Pureblooded wizards. Lily is the same way as Hermione is. She was raised by the non-magical, with no magic."

"So that means that I was in the same spot as Hermione... however, I did not magically soulbond myself with a boy at the age of six." Lily says. James and Jean look horrified, and yell at the same time.

"They bonded souls!?"

[sapphicscribbles2222]

Latin significance in THG that nobody asked for

Went to Rome on a school trip and realised exactly how much of THG relates to latin and roman stuff so I decided to make a post so I can rant about some of the instances. Also, please be aware that my knowledge isn't perfect, so there might be some mistakes, but this is just a bit of fun really anyway.

Also spoilers for all of the hunger games books

Panem- probably the one everyone knows about, it's the name of the country, and means "bread" in latin, which I find ridiculous. That's like me calling my country "Victoria Sponge" or something (I'm British :) )

The Capitol- Probably less well known, it's named after the Capitoline Hill, considered one of the most important places in Rome. It was where there was a temple to all their gods (I think). There's a museum there now. So, sort of narcissistic to name your capital city after that? Idk.

Caesar Flickerman- Pretty self explanatory, Roman dictator, got stabbed. This man should under no circumstances do TV appearances on the 15th March

Seneca Crane- Ok, this one's kind of ironic, because in the books, Seneca is head gamemaker and close to Snow, right? But Seneca (roman) was a philosopher who wrote a satire and criticised roman habits (one prescribed source for the course I'm taking is literally him being annoyed at roman gladiator fights), so the character and historical figure are pretty different here

Plutarch Heavensbee- Another head gamemaker, also kind of ironic. And based off another philosopher. Plutarch (roman) wrote a load of letters and things commenting on stuff like who got voted in for things, who did what. He, unlike Seneca, didn't write satire though (to my knowledge). So I guess the whole thing with them is giving the name of the satirist to the law abiding citizen and the average philosopher to the rebel, which I find kind of amusing.

Coriolanus Snow- It fits tbh. Coriolanus (not Snow) might have been a real historical figure, idk enough about it, maybe not. He appears in the works of this guy called Livy, who wrote stories for model romans, but his is more of a cautionary tale. Essentially, Coriolanus was a great roman military general, but then decided to betray Rome and go work with the guys they were fighting, who were called the Etruscans, and now they're sieging the city. The roman woman figure out he's betrayed them, and go beg for help from his wife and mother. They agree to help, and the roman women, Coriolanus's mother, his wife and their two sons go to the Etruscan's camp to try and persuade him to stop sieging the city. They get there, and his mum proceeds to yell at him for betraying her and Rome. Coriolanus hears this, and is like, "ok, I'll stop sieging your city. But you, mother, will never see me again." So he gets the Etruscans to leave, then proceeds to get killed by them for backing out. Honestly? I can see it.

Sejanus Plinth- Don't know of any Sejanus specifically, but it may be a reference to Janus, god of doorways and paths (kind of fits, given that he comes from D2 but lives in the Capitol, so that's sort of like a doorway between livelihoods). That's the best I've got, but I think it fits.

Arachne Crane- This one works as well, in my opinion. Basically, Arachne was a weaver, but she was kind of prideful, so she starts boasting that her work is better than Athena/Minerva's (y'know, the literal goddess of weaving?). Anyway, Athena/Minerva challenges her to a competition, where the loser can't weave on a loom anymore. Athena/Minerva wins (obviously) but she sees how upset Arachne is and takes pity on her, turning her into a spider so she can still weave. Honestly, the whole thing kind of fits, since they both basically have the same fatal flaw of superiority, which leads to Arachne getting killed in tbosas, and Arachne getting turned into a spider in the myth.

That's all I've got for now, folks (also congratulations for reading this far). There's probably way more references to myth and roman society in the series, but these are all I can think of at the moment. Anyways, hope you have a good day, thanks for stopping by :)

[tonydaddingham]

i need to have a little heartbreak rant bc this was something i noticed in a rewatch the other day and i had to sit on it for a while before i could articulate why it broke my heart so much

it all starts with the first conversation on the wall, crowley has just transformed into his human shape and says the "well, that went down like a lead balloon" line:

(edit: this post is so long in hindsight that I will in fact put it under a cut BUT there are no spoilers in here i promise, we condemn Trojan tactics in this house of the lord)

so when he gets to the end of the line, he lays on the sarcasm, and couples it with a soft eyebrow raise and looks away from not aziraphale, but from adam and eve, away from the whole situation that he's created... (tried to capture it in the gif but it's so quick)

there are a few reasons why this stood out to me, and a couple are things that people have touched on in other posts but i'm going to ramble anyway

he doesn't even look at aziraphale, doesn't even give him the courtesy of a nod or a glance to acknowledge his presence... and yet crowley could have gone anywhere in the garden, or outside of it, let alone on the top of it, and even less right next to aziraphale. it just suddenly struck me the depth of which i think crowley may possibly have been lonely or, possibly more in line with his character, he just wanted to remark on it to someone, even if he's not expecting a meaningful response, because he fell just for asking questions or in general questioning Things, and is still feeling the effects of being damned for it (whether that was thousands of years before the garden existed, or immediately before he came into Eden, whichever way you look at it). so coming up to aziraphale, this lone angel on this wall of whom he presumably knows nothing about, was such a risk on his part, made him extremely vulnerable, but he just needed to talk to somebody, to comment on it and just possibly, maybe have a response, even if it's out of pity or curiosity on the angel's part. he'll take whatever he can get, but is expecting absolutely nothing

the choice of words and how it's delivered also seemed really deliberate. he could have laid on the sarcasm reaaaally thick, or been a bit of a knob and laughed about (ie at the humans' and god/angels' expense) but he didn't. he almost seems like he's chastising himself for it. its the kind of way you'd say it if you were a teenager that's pissed off your parents for an unknown reason and they won't explain it to you, won't have a conversation with you to help you understand why they reacted the way they did, and what you did to upset them (god is NOT a gentle parent-er let's be real). hes done something that he suspects might be wrong (or right, which is wrong...?), but seems like it was right (or at least for the right reasons?), and it's had consequences that he doesn't quite yet understand and noone has explained to him. he essentially still acts like a traumatised child walking on eggshells, immediately self deprecating and self critical, because he might have done something that will upset their mum but their mum won't communicate what exactly it was that was wrong and goes into a rage anyway. to me it even feels like he's disappointed himself in doing something, yet again, that is rooted in free will but feels like he's about to be shouted at and punished for it, even sounds like he's resigned himself to whatever repurcussions will come from it... i mean, he's already Fallen, what more could they possibly do to him?

and then we have aziraphale's response. he actually responds to crowley, and its not just a hmm or a non committal agreement. aziraphale either misheard, or was too distracted by his own inner turmoil that he wasnt concentrating on what crowley said. so he asks him to repeat it. he engages him in a conversation that truly indicates that he might have been interested in what crowley had to say. that crowley might have said something worth hearing, or actually be someone worth listening to. aziraphale obviously knows Crowley is a demon (if the snake form and the clothes/wings didn't give it away, aziraphale would have sensed it regardless), and yet still thinks him worthy of a response, or being spoken to like he's an actual person, not just a demon of no consequence or value. yes in part this just shows aziraphale's unwavering kindness and compassion (a whole different post), but the way that crowley immediately feels like he can reiterate and clarify what he just said speaks volumes to how comfortable he suddenly is in aziraphale's presence and under his scrutiny:

(cont'd) his expression opens up, he looks aziraphale in the eye and repeats something that could be taken the wrong way, that could result in crowley being obliterated even further... but still remains a little guarded and almost like he's forcing himself to relax/be open and polite...it's like he somehow knows something bad isn't going to happen. this i think is compounded by the fact that crowley goes on to elaborate in the scene that he's not sure on the difference between good and evil, and says it almost conspiratorially - back to his old inability to stop himself from questioning everything, unable to stop being curious about it all, and of all people he feels immediately comfortable enough to ask aziraphale, as if aziraphale might have an answer or that aziraphale may be in his kindred and have the same kind of thoughts. ultimately the only reason you ask questions is to get an answer and this time, even if it's not a response crowley agreed with, someone was kind and decent enough to give him a valid answer without damning judgement or punishment in the absence of said answer.

It really does just make me wonder with a good deal of despair how much of crowley might be broken by this point, and in contrast how much he actually heals over the next 6000ish years... that is a whole lot of painful trauma to work through, and as time goes on we see crowley become more outspoken and less guarded with his words and more importantly his questions, seeking aziraphale out on purpose in mesopotamia and golgotha, questioning god's will and actions yet again, because he just can't understand why. the fact that he continues to ask questions to aziraphale speaks volumes of how much he trusts him to give him an answer, and not to hurt him for asking in the first place.

i know that there has been some wonderful fic out there that has touched on the themes of crowley displaying similar characteristics to an abused, traumatised, lonely child, but i honestly think this is the scene where we really see it, and that a five second introduction to aziraphale, someone so compassionate and kind that he let crowley ask him questions without judgement or derision, helps us see a glimpse of crowley's emotional and mental rock bottom... and therefore how far he's come since that day on the wall of eden

[harrison-abbott]

Tommy and I

I didn’t know my kid that well. Tommy was his name. His mother and I split up shortly after he was born, and I didn’t get to see him that much. And I must’ve missed out on that crucial attachment phase with him. Because he was far closer to his mother. Or maybe I’m being naïve and it was because I was a bad Dad.

Remember the film Jurassic Park? The original one I mean, from the early 1990s. I took Tommy to see that, when he was still alive. When he was a boy. It’s crazy that that movie came out over thirty years ago now … But yeah, I took him along and bought him a big box of popcorn and there weren’t many people in the auditorium. That movie was wondrous to us both. Tommy kept hiding his face in my coat when the scary bits came up. I was shit scared too. Ha. I recall his little head trembling against my ribs. But he wasn’t too afraid to complete the movie. He wasn’t disturbed by it; was thrilled in a scary way.

That was when he was about seven.

When he was eight he moved to a different city because his mother met this man and the man took them away, a hundred miles down south. So it made it harder to see Tommy.

The job I had back then didn’t have many holidays. And when I did get breaks I would have to get in touch with Tommy’s mother to try and access him. She often said that they already had plans. She might have been lying but I don’t know.

Basically there was a long stretch whereby I didn’t see Tommy for years. Perhaps I didn’t deserve to.

When we did meet up again he was in puberty mode, that zone when teens have no interest in older people. It was odd to see him not-a-boy anymore. He didn’t really look like me or his Mum. So I would take him out for dinner or to a big football game. And I tried the cinema a few times, other blockbusters. Tommy enjoyed some of the films but that was about it. He just wasn’t interested in speaking to me. I knew he was in to rock music; and he liked some of the bands that I did as well when I was his age: but when I tried speaking about them he wouldn’t engage in rapport. Was that deliberate?

I didn’t quite know what went down with his mother’s new partner. The other man. I never even met him physically, as in, a handshake or whatnot. Apparently he didn’t want to meet me, and it was always his mother who drove Tommy to me, rather than me come to their house to pick him up.

Tommy didn’t come home one night – to their house – and he stayed missing for days. I only knew because his mother called me up to ask if he had gone over here to mine.

I drove down to his city to look for him on the streets. To try and locate him. Apparently he’d barely been at home for months and was hanging out with his friends … what his mother said. I wasn’t able to find him. That was in October, when he vanished. His body was found in December. He’d lain out on the train tracks downtown.

I’m never able to not get upset when I see a poster for Jurassic Park these days. Or when it comes on TV around Christmas time or whatever. Can’t watch it. Never will again.

[explorersaremadeofhope]

Ahem! So for the Fan Fic Writer Asks: 2, 3, 5, 10, 12, 17 (hehehehe), 25, 26 (hahaha), 27 and 29! 😇

[guy grabbing startled cat meme] YOU!

okay, fiiiiiine (thank you 😂💖)

2. Do you read/reread your own fics? honestly, not that much? it depends a little on how i feel about them. if i'm satisfied with them, i might. but often rereading my own stuff makes me realise there's a bunch of small stuff i would like to change with hindsight, so it's easier not to. 😂

3. What's your favorite fic that you've written? damn. i guess it might be some of my earliest terror stuff, anchor up to me or and stay awhile. personally i don't really... have favourites very much, i see good bits and flawed bits in everything, but those were fun to write and people were extremely kind about them when i posted them, so that was a lot of fun overall!

5. What's a fic idea you've had that you will never write? so many. most of them, probably. that said i don't like to fully give up on an idea! but i have several fitzier gdocs sitting around that'll never go anywhere, including: half-epistolary modern au where jfj sends postcards to francis from around the world (initially to annoy him) over years while francis dates, gets engaged to, then splits up with sophia, and james globetrots to avoid his own loneliness, until they gradually become friends and then get together

rest of these under a cut, god damn

10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting? not really, i think. or if so, only positively. i've gotten some super lovely comments on some of my fics, and i never really expect that, so it's always a happy surprise. and a couple of them have got podfic, which is also absolutely wild to me.

12. Do you have a playlist for your current WIP/s? sorry, no! i have a shittonne of character playlists, but i don't tend to make playlists for fics!

17. - already answered!

25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing? actually, no! i don't think that's ever happened. but i don't tend to write very heavy angst either.

26. Is there something you've written that you would never want your family to see? i mean.. most of it? don't get me wrong, my mum is great and knows that i've written fanfiction since i was a teenager, but the idea of showing anyone in my family my writing is embarrassing as hell lmao, that shit's private

29. Share a bit from a fic you'll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. rip, there are so many to choose from. here's some disembodied angst of james ross missing his boyfriend!

---

he steps outside and tilts his face up into the chill breeze. the night is clear, the air sharp with a late january cold snap. overhead, millions of pinheads of light flicker and twinkle against the black, occasionally winking out of existence as a cloud drifts across the heavens, carried by winds far stronger than the gentle stirring of air which cools his cheeks. the grounds are quiet, deep and dark and still in the early evening. a dusting of snow covers everything. it is new, and as yet unbroken by any human tread, reflecting the light of the moon like a fresh sheet of paper. against it the leafless trees and the shadows cast by the light streaming from the windows behind him are black as pitch. 

his hands soon begin to ache – he has not brought his gloves. he puts them into his pockets. it is not terribly cold – when he glanced at it, the thermometer which he has had mounted beside the window read 23 degrees. unusual for england, certainly, but not true cold. nothing to speak of, really. his feet begin to go numb in his shoes, but it is not too bad; not yet. 

idly, he picks out orion, then auriga, following it down into taurus. canis major, half hidden by a tree, is yet easy, sirius clear as a beacon. turning toward the north, there is ursa major, then the northern cross – cassiopeia takes him a few moments, but he finds it at last, almost directly overhead. 

are we looking at the same stars? 

they’ll be up all night and all day, now, these same constellations; circling tirelessly about the central axis, never dipping from sight.

“i say, what on earth are you doing out here?”