#if you are asleep .... good morning !

[buttercupshands]

I started drawing this next day after I finished Act 6

13 or so days and it's finished!

Main things are traditional and Loop's body was edited digitally after

Unedited it looks like this

I've been torn on how to do Loop's body for the entirety of lining, also

A bit sad the main lines are visible only as a wip, most of this thing is literally just a ton of sharp lines

I think it's also my first day of drawing, Loop is just a sketch here (feat. my leg)

I even finished the beans before it so they were a moral support, because if you let me things like this take a year

[somegrumpynerd]

It's cold around the castle this time of year so Horror set a fire in one of the fireplaces, and some people got especially cosy

Cross by Jakei95 Killer by Rahafwabas

Bonus doodle:

[jadewritesficshere]

Grey

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Synopsis: Steve gets a wake up call from yall's daughter

Contents: talks of aging, kids being kids, references to smut but nothing explicit

Steve groans as his consciousness comes to. Something is hitting his face. Someone. Repeatedly.

Steve squints his bleary eyes open as a hand smacks him in the jaw again. A small smile appears on his face even though his jaw stings from the impact. "Morning," Steve's voice is still thick with sleep as he turns to look into brown eyes barely peeking over the edge of the bed.

A quiet voice repeats back ,"Morning," to Steve before arms reach up over the edge of the bed to try and grasp something. Small hands grab the blanket and tug it off of him slightly as the child attempts to climb up. At two and half, Amelia Joy Harrington can barely see above the edge of her parents' bed, let alone get on it.

Steve hoists Amelia up and sits her on his stomach. Steve winces as Amelia scrambles, a stray foot hitting his thigh precariously close to his crotch. Arms are thrown around his neck in a hug as Amelia lays her head against her dad's chest.

Steve feels like his heart could burst out of his chest from the joy he is feeling. A hug from his baby? The best way to wake up in the morning. Who cares if his jaw is still stinging and probably red, his little girl loves him.

Steve sighs in contentment. Steve holds his daughter close until she starts to fidget and wiggle. Amelia sits up and throws her hands in the air. "Happy Birthday!" She whispers excitedly, except she has no concept of how quiet a whisper should actually be and says it in a much too loud voice.

"What?" Steve asks, hand hovering near Amelia's side in case she slips. Amelia's eyebrows furrow as she pouts at him, a look that is an exact copy of you. Her arms slowly lower as she stares at Steve. "Happy Birthday. You old." Amelia pouts at him.

Steve blinks at Amelia in confusion but nods his head. First off, rude, he isn't that old. Steve isn't sure where she gets her unfiltered, blunt commentary (it absolutely isn't him). Second, it absolutely isn't his birthday. Not even close.

"Why uh...why is it my birthday?" Steve asks, unsure if Amelia fully understands the concept. Not sure if he can explain the idea of a birthday to a two (and a half) year old. "Grey." Amelia declares giving Steve whiplash. Before Steve can speak, Amelia points at the comforter," Blue." Steve smiles," Yes, blue."

Amelia points to her shirt," Green." Steve nods. Amelia taps under Steve's eye, lashes brushing against her finger causing him to close it. Steve hopes she doesn't attempt to actually poke his eye.

"Brown." Amelia declares. "Thats right." Steve grins, his girl is so smart. Amelia points to his temple," Grey." "That's ri- what?! No!" Steve's mouth drops open as Amelia giggles. "Uncle Dustbin says grey is old. Birthday makes old. Happy Birthday!"

The creak of the loose floorboard in the hall notifies Steve of your approach. You peek into the doorway of the room, seeing your two favorite people. One looking aghast and the other giggling at her father's reaction.

"What's going on in here?" You ask, leaning against the doorway. "Grey. Birthday." Amelia announces, like it explains everything. And it does in her little mind.

You hum in response, looking at your husband who seems lost for words. Amelia slides off of Steve and off the bed, Steve guiding her so her feet land on the ground absent-mindedly. He would never let her fall or get hurt. Or you.

Amelia half walks half dances in your direction. A prance in her step, she stops in front of you and grabs your hands. "It's daddy's birthday," She says before headbutting your leg. You chuckle and pat her head as she dances out of the room, in her own little world.

"You lying to my kid again?" You ask once Amelia is gone. Steve sputters as he sits up," I did not- our kid- did not lie." "Uh-huh, sure," you say sarcastically. Steve rolls his eyes at you as he gets up out of bed.

Steve stretches as he rocks on his feet, back cracking, before strolling over to you. "Good morning," Steve mumbles, hand landing on your hip. You hum back as he leans in and kisses you. Soft. Slow. Sweet. Leaving you longing for more as he pulls back.

"Love you," Steve says, fingers running along the waistband of your pants. "I love you too," you want to melt into him. Curl up in his arms and stay in this moment. Let the love and adoration fill the air around you.

"Do I look old?" Steve is the first to break the silence. Your brow furrows in confusion," huh?" "Amelia she," Steve huffs out a laugh," said I have grey hair." You chuckle as you bring a hand up, fingers threading through his hair," You have some but its nice." "Its nice huh?" "Makes you look distinguished. Handsome." You bite your lip and look up at him.

Steve knows that look. Knows it well. It's the look you gave him the first time you moved past just making out. The same look you gave him on your first anniversary. The same look you wore on your wedding night. The same look you gave before Amelia was conceived.

Steve can't help the smirk that spreads across his face. If getting old gives him that look, well, he won't complain.

"What about me?" You ask, batting your lashes. "Beautiful," Steve kisses your cheek," Gorgeous," he kisses the corner of your lips. He continues to alternate between kissing all over your face and praising you.

"My love," Steve whispers before kissing you softly on the lips. You sigh into the kiss, one hand tangling in his hair, the other trying to pull him closer.

A loud crash from the living room has you two pulling back from the sweet moment you stole. "What was that?" You call down the hall. "Nothing!" Amelia yells back, making you sigh but smile. Steve can't help but grin too. His life was a little hectic dealing with a rambunctious child, but he wouldn't trade it for the world. And he thinks, if life is like this, he can manage getting old with you. He wouldn't want it any other way.

[paintpanic]

Res AU Joronia drawings. Character rambling and bonus doodles under cut.

This AU takes place a good while after the events of Triple Deluxe happened. Since then, Taranza's mostly recovered mentally from everything. He was able to move on from his grief and (somewhat) forgive himself. Now that Joronia's in his life again, seemingly back to her former self, some of those wounds he'd thought were fully healed have started to ache again. He still feels ultimately guilty for what happened to her.

He's thrilled that Joronia's been given a second chance at life, but is somewhat wary deep down. This feels to good to be true, that she's just back with seemingly no strings attached. The other shoe could drop any day now, and he could lose her all over again. Fearing this, he wants to make the most out of what could be a short time to be together again with his friend.

Joronia senses that there's a distance between the two of them now that wasn't there before. It shouldn't be surprising; he's probably still hurt from what she did. Other people definitely are. She's determined, though, to work hard to make it up to everyone she's hurt, and to prove to them (and herself) that she's not really like that, that she's capable of being better.

The Mirror's influence twisted her mind and her perception of reality. It made her feel like she was inadequate, and that everyone else were enemies to be subjugated. Now, she's supposed to be normal and better, but she still feels like there's something wrong with her head. She still doesn't feel good enough, and it still feels like everyone hates her. It's hard to trust herself. She's not sure if it's some lingering effect of the Mirror, or if there's just something inherently wrong with her now. She's scared.

She's afraid that something will happen, that she'll revert to how she was as Queen, and that she'll hurt Taranza again. Someone who'd always helped her, who'd stuck with her even when she was absolutely horrible to him, and who's kindness she's relying on again now, staying at his home as she worked on getting her life back together. She's a burden on him, and she always has been. She hates it.

Still, her deepest, most selfish wish is that they could be real friends again.

---

These two need to have a long, honest discussion about their feelings toward each other and themselves. Both of them are absolutely terrified about that prospect, though, because they each think that the other secretly resents them to some degree. If they actually talked through it, they'd quickly realize that they both want the same thing.

[zu-is-here]

More dark kcrm (just two of them heh) for the birthday fruit @orange-dreamzer <3

[felsicveins]

Do you think that julien and jd are going to get together again? Man i am clawing at your leg begging for them to have that happy ending.

Part of me feels julien genuinely loves and cares for jd, and that the guilt of what happened and the shame of what he did follows him like a lost dog. Hes never going to know what happiness feels like as long as he doesnt have his boy. And that eats at him. He feels pathetic for begging but at the same time what does he have left to lose? Dignity? He lost that the day john found out about the lip syncing. About everything.

John might be in a similar boat, having the guilt eating at him. He hates what julien did. But does he hate him himself? Fuck if he knows. All he does know is that the ache in his chest is a pain in the ass and that no matter what he cant go back to alcohol to subside it. So what can he go to? What can he do? He needs to be strong, to set his foot down. But even though he acts like he despises the guy, he still has that fucking wedding ring. He still has that ache. Sure there were others, but those were casual even in marriage. But this? This had a plan. A promise.

And that was broken. Years ago.

I wonder if they’ll ever fix it.

Nothing will get fixed if no one changes

[blizzardfluffykpop]

Wished For

Summary: The birthday boy pulls you away from his party for a moment to makeout with you. 

Drabble

Fluff, Mutual Pining/Friends to Lovers au

Word Count: 568

Juyeon X Reader 

[A/n: This is based on a distant memory of mine but pretty much everything is reimagined- esp the season this takes place. Anyways, Happy Juyeon Day!]

------

In the loud night, where the fire is still crackling in the stone firepit, and everyone is roasting marshmallows and playing with sparklers. Juyeon grabs you by the waist and gently moves you away from the sound of laughter. He holds his sparkler he was playing with to celebrate being a year older away from you. Careful not to get any sparks on either of you. As his eyes quickly flick from your lips to your eyes before his lips capture yours, and you make out while your friends laugh about something. You pull him in deeper, sliding one hand under his shirt and another in his hair as his sparkler finishes. When you both pull away, you sigh heavily before looking at your friends, seeing if any of them caught onto what the two of you were doing. You laugh, noticing that none of them had noticed the birthday boy, and you had moved away from the flames. He guides you back over to join the group, sitting beside you. 

You grin at him as your knees bump into each other in front of the firepit. The two of you can’t help the little smiles that play on your lips as you look at each other. Knowing no one had caught onto your little game makes you both giddy. You get out two more sparklers before lighting them up, making little heart shapes with yours as Juyeon makes large circles with his. And when those run out of spark, you dispose of them. 

Jacob sees you both sitting there, with nothing in your hands, and hands you both sticks to roast marshmallows on. You get some marshmallows from the bag and roast them to a perfect golden brown. Juyeon pouts as he makes his marshmallows slightly crispy, and you can’t help but giggle at him. He pouts, and you resist your urge to kiss it away. You both eat your marshmallows together, not making any moves to move away from each other until the cake comes out. 

The cold night nips at your skin now that you’re away from the flame and Juyeon. You wish to return to the firepit, as the cold air makes you shiver. You stand towards the end of the table as you all sing Happy Birthday to him before he blows out his candles. And you can’t help but wonder if he wished for what you would have given the chance. But you let the thought rest, knowing you can’t ask someone to share their wish. You finally make your way up beside him. Sangyeon serves you the last piece of Juyeon’s cake before heading towards the pit with his cake. You grin as you dip your thumb into your frosting and smear it along his cheekbone. 

He looks so cute as he giggles at what you did before scrapping some of his frosting off and putting some on your nose. You grin, and you both make your way back to the pit, frosting coated. The warmth from the fire makes you feel toasty again. And when all of your friends are talking loudly about something again, Juyeon whispers to you, “What do you say? Can you make my birthday wish come true and finally be mine?” You grin, “I’d love nothing more.” He wished for exactly what you would have, and you couldn’t be happier to make his wish come true. 

[slamminslamminmcgill]

hi so like fucking joel would include him manhandling you bc he’s strong enough to treat you like a sex doll. picking you up and throwing you down in all different configurations, sex positions with no names you can think of. pulling your legs however he needs to get the deepest possible angle. both of your holes are soaking wet and at this point it’s hard to tell one from the other; which was taking his cock and which was stuffed with the $10 dildo he got from spencers. you’re grabbing a pillow and howling to his entire apartment building until he says—

“shhh, shh, shh…”

—in just the sweetest, most soothing tone of voice. it calms you right down. plus shoving your whole face in the pillow definitely helps with your volume. joel’s quiet tho. he’ll give a few grunts and oh’s every now and then but they’re few and far between. when he DOES talk to you it’s instructions.

“ass up, legs together”

“on your side”

“yeah, c’mon now, cum on my cock. squirt for me, baby, give it to me y-oh, there we go, such a good boy...”

as soon as he pulls out you fall flat on your stomach, landing with enough of an impact to feel the mattress springs bounce beneath you. you get a few seconds to breathe, panting with a dry throat that’s raspy from screaming at him to keep stretching your asshole out. but that’s all behind you now, right?

then you feel two big hands pulling your ass cheeks apart, and a cool breeze flicking across your gape. joel whistles in admiration.

“look at that pretty hole… good boy.”

and rather than letting you recover, he just climbs on top of your limp body and sticks his cock in your gaping ass to fuck you pronebone style.

[coeluvr]

Hellooo! I'm not sure if the prompts are still open, but if so, maybe #61 for Vincent? 🙈

“Say it.”

As Vincent falls onto the bed, his eyes widen in surprise, his body tensing for a moment before relinquishing control to you.

“Say it,” you breathe, your voice husky with desire, your eyes simmering with intent. This time, you’ve decided to take charge, assert your desires, and make him beg for your touch. It’s a departure from your usually shy and submissive nature, but the power that surges through your veins at this moment is intoxicating.

You straddle him, your thighs spreading on either side of his hips, and hold his gaze with unwavering confidence. Leaning closer, your lips hovering just above his, you tease him, testing his limits. “Beg for it, Vincent. Tell me how much you want me.”

His breathing quickens, his lips parting to speak, but you can see the struggle within him. Pride and vulnerability wage war on his face, tugging at his desire and restraint. His eyes, filled with yearning, search yours for a moment before he finally succumbs to the delicious temptation.

“Please,” he rasps, his voice thick with need. “I want to feel your touch, to taste your lips. I crave you like nothing else.”

[kiwiplaetzchen]

"Thump! Thump! Thump!" Nosy hears something knocking on the door of his Majesty's dorm room. It is late at night on All Hallows' Eve, and the castle seems eerie and spooky even for such an occasion. It seems that all the other students have fallen dead asleep as nobody as much as stirs to get up and open the door. The thumps continue, and the longer the door it closed, the more insistent they become.

Does Nosy dare opening the door to be met face to face with a fierce pumpkin monster of approximately his size, sporting 6 little stumpy legs and sharp pumpkin teeth?

The castle was unusually quiet that All Hallows' Eve. Shadows stretched long across the walls as the candles flickered dimly, their light barely holding back the creeping darkness. All the students were fast asleep, tucked snugly in their beds. But one creature, the teal-furred menace himself, was still very much awake and snuggled deep in Sebastian’s mop of hair.

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

Nosy's ears twitched at the sound. Someone - or something - was knocking at the door. The little Niffler tilted his head, considering his options. He could ignore it, of course, and return to the warmth of Sebastian's hair. But… what if something shiny was waiting on the other side? The thought of a new treasure made his little heart flutter with excitement.

The thumps grew louder and more insistent, echoing ominously through the room. Nosy sat up, his teal fur bristling slightly as he glanced around the room. Sebastian and William were still snoring like babies, entirely oblivious to the disturbance! Fine, Nosy huffed to himself. Nosy will deal with this himself!

Scrambling down from his companion's head, Nosy's little paws tapped lightly against the cold stone floor. The knocking continued, relentless and demanding. Puffing out his chest, Nosy waddled to the door, ready to face whatever dared disturb his night. He sniffed at the dark crack beneath the door and squinted suspiciously. His nose twitched again, searching for danger - or treasure. That smell was familiar...

But before he could react—

BOOM!

The door flew wide open, and Nosy froze. There it was: a pumpkin monster, no taller than the Niffler himself, but far less terrifying. The pumpkin lunged forward, clicking its legs as it skittered into the room. Nosy let out a startled honk and scrambled backward, his eyes wide with shock. But only for a moment.

Recovering quickly, Nosy narrowed his eyes. A challenge? His teal fur puffed up. How dare this gourd invade the Teal King’s domain?! With a defiant honk, Nosy darted to his little nest in the wardrobe, where he grabbed his trusty pea shooter.

With a fierce honk, he fired his first shot at the pumpkin menace, the pea bouncing harmlessly off the gourd's jagged grin. The pumpkin lunged again, snapping its jagged teeth, but Nosy was too quick, skidding behind the silky pillow fort he'd built with Charlie earlier that day.

From behind the fort, Nosy let loose another volley of peas. One struck the pumpkin square between its grinning eyes, making it stumble backward with a guttural "Gourrrr!"

Honking victoriously, Nosy leapt from his fort, landing on the gourd's back with a ferocious chirp. Grabbing its stem with both paws, Nosy yanked with all his might. The pumpkin monster swayed, spinning in circles, before finally toppling over with a resounding THUD!

Perched proudly atop his defeated foe, Nosy puffed out his chest and let out a long, smug honk. Victory! His little tail wagged in satisfaction, daring any other intruders to try their luck against the Teal King.

[pilotduty]

boyfriend who meows dedicated 2 @lightningzombie

[bobmckenzie]

Nervous

word count: 2.7k blurb: Caitie embarrasses herself when she first meets Tucker, and Tucker doesn't realize he's giving all the wrong signals.

“I doubt I’ll even be able to talk to Tucker—it’s like… meeting my celebrity crush.”

The words she’d spoken to Natalie echoed in Caitie’s head for the thousandth time since the night they’d gone ghost hunting with Spectral Sightings. The ghost hunters had come into the comic store while Nat was working, and learning she was a fan of their web series, were nice enough to invite her along on an investigation—And Natalie was nice enough to ask if she could bring Cait with her.

Cait should’ve known she’d only make a fool of herself.

After she let those embarrassing words slip out, she’d turned around to realize Tucker was standing right there, in perfect earshot, his eyes wide. All she could do was freeze, staring at him like an idiot. She thought he was still back at the van with Specs, getting their gear ready.

Tucker cleared his throat, thumb jutting back in that direction. “Um. We, uh, we… Everything’s ready.” His gaze wouldn't stay on her for longer than a millisecond. “We’re going in now.”

The dark of night, the old house, the cold drafts and unexplained sounds… none of it scared Cait, because she couldn’t focus on any of it. All she could feel all night was the hot blush on her cheeks, the pit in her stomach, and the shame as she realized Tucker wasn’t looking at her, talking to her, or even standing close by. 

She tried to break the awkward tension by asking a question about some of his equipment—one of his toys as Specs had called it—but all she got in response was a split-second look her way from across the room and a matter-of-fact, grumbled answer.

She felt like such a nuisance. Why, why did she have to say what she’d said? Why couldn’t he have walked over just a few seconds later? She’d never wanted to make him uncomfortable, or make him think she’d deluded herself into thinking anything would happen between them. God, she probably sounded like some kind of stalker-fan.

Specs and Natalie kept the night from falling into one long, awkward silence, something Caitlin was extremely grateful for. The two of them were getting on great, and Steven seemed thrilled every time he got to answer one of Natalie’s inquiries about his job, the case, or the history of the house. He seemed more focused on her than the investigation.

When the night was over, all Cait could manage was a weak smile as Specs and Tucker finished loading up the van. Natalie and Specs were wrapping up a long convo—Cait would ask for all the details later. Right then, she just wanted to get out of there.

“Um, I’m gonna go warm up the car,” she interjected, gesturing to the vehicle parked down the long driveway. “Thanks,” she said, reaching out to shake Specs’s hand. “This was cool.”

He took it earnestly with a single shake, telling her it was their pleasure. “Sorry we didn’t have any sightings tonight.” He turned back to Natalie. “But I’ll be in touch as soon as we review the footage.”

Caitlin offered her hand to Tucker, because it would’ve seemed rude not to, though she really just wanted to hurry back to the car and try to forget the whole thing. She looked up to meet his eyes, and found nothing but the same unreadable gaze he’d been wearing all night. “Uh, thanks again. I appreciate you guys letting me tag along.”

His hand found hers, and she fought not to let her breath catch at the warmth of it, the way her hand felt so small in his, the fuzzy feeling that fell over her whole body.

“Yeah.” His response was simple and gruff, bringing her right back down to earth.

She took her hand from his and tried to suppress her embarrassment for the millionth time. 

The events had just kept repeating in her mind since that night. Even now at work, reorganizing the bin of clearance CDs, she could hardly focus. Specs had emailed Natalie the next day, saying nothing exciting had shown up in the footage, but that they all should do it again sometime. 

Cait gave some excuse about her work schedule being too chaotic the next few weeks—she knew Nat saw straight through it. She’d tried her best to cheer her up from her moping, insisting that she saw Tucker looking at her throughout the night. But Cait hadn’t expected Tucker to be interested in her before, and she certainly couldn’t believe he would be now.

What Cait didn’t know was that Tucker was interested. Beyond interested. He’d been interested ever since he and Specs had met Natalie at the comic shop and she’d mentioned that her friend would be excited to meet him. He thought maybe she’d been insinuating something along the lines of attraction. Then he’d met Caitie and hoped to God that’s what she’d been insinuating. 

She was pretty. She was sweet. Hell, she even smelled sweet, better than the little snack cake he was eating. When she shook his hand hello and looked up at him with those kind brown eyes, he felt a surge of confidence—he wouldn’t blow this. If he had a chance with her, he wasn’t about to screw it up.

Then he’d overheard her confession to Natalie. Like meeting her celebrity crush. She wasn’t just maybe a little interested in him… she really had a thing for him. It should’ve made him ecstatic… but what if he didn’t live up to whatever she thought he’d be like in person? What if he said the wrong thing and made her reevaluate, what if spending time with him made her realize she was completely out of his league? What if he came off a lot cooler in the videos, what if he looked better on camera? What if they had nothing in common? What if he couldn’t think of anything funny to say?

The confidence disappeared in an instant. Too worried about saying the wrong thing, he barely said anything all night. He was so self-conscious he could hardly look at her, let alone talk to her.

When the night was over and she’d said goodbye, he felt… well, he wasn’t sure, exactly. He hadn’t been suave or smooth like he’d hoped, but at least he didn’t embarrass himself. Given how chatty Specs and Natalie had been, he was sure it wasn’t the last time he’d get to see Cait—they could all hang out again sometime, he thought. 

That was, until Specs got in the passenger's seat of the van as Cait and Natalie drove away.

“What is your problem?” Specs asked, buckling up.

Tucker raised an eyebrow, his lip curling at the unexpected attitude. “What?”

Specs huffed, as if it was obvious. “If you don’t wanna make friends with them, that’s none of my business. But they’re, like, fans of ours. Is it too much to ask for you to act professional?”

Tucker could only scoff, moving his hands out in a gesture of what the fuck are you talking about? “Name one thing I did that was unprofessional.”

“Uh, the entire thing. You were acting like you’d rather’ve been at jury duty, Tucker.” Specs shook his head as Tucker started backing out of the driveway. “Like the whole thing was some kind of inconvenience. If you didn’t want to do it, you should’ve just told me—I could’ve gone solo.”

“You don’t even know how to use half that stuff,” Tucker grumbled under his breath. Had he really seemed so uninterested?

“It’s too bad, really.” Specs’ voice lost its hostility as he relaxed against his seat. “I was hoping she’d be your type.”

“What?”

“I mean…” Specs shrugged. “If Natalie and I ever… If we ever became… involved… I guess I just mean it would’ve been convenient if you’d been interested in Caitlin. We’re friends, they’re friends. Makes things simple.”

Tucker stopped at a red light and glared over at Specs. His interest in Natalie wasn’t the bombshell he seemed to think it might be—it’d been obvious since they’d met her. What tripped Tucker up was the way his own best friend had completely misread him. If he thought that… what must Cait have thought? 

“I never said I wasn’t interested.”

Specs turned to him with a laugh, which quickly fell into a look of stupefaction. “You’re serious.” He blinked a few times before his expression changed to one of understanding, then pity. “Tucker.”

Tucker’s heart sank. Had it really been that bad? He tried to convince himself it wasn’t, that Specs was exaggerating. He’d been too focused on Natalie to be paying much attention to anything else, anyway. That was it.

A few days later, he came up to Specs as he was sitting at his laptop to ask if he’d set anything up yet for them all to hang out again, maybe do another investigation together. Specs grimaced, and explained in the gentlest way he could: Natalie was down for another hunt together. Caitlin…

“Says she’s too busy,” Specs said, not sounding like he believed it. 

Incredible, Tucker thought. For once in his life he’d had a chance with a woman—a woman who was nice, who was cute, who found his work interesting, who’d been wearing the t-shirt of a band he loved, who was attracted to him… and he managed to throw it away in a few hours. 

He sighed, doing his best to keep a poker face, though he was sure Specs saw right through it. Who wouldn’t be disappointed?

“Uh, our new business cards are ready,” Specs said, trying to cheer him up. “The printer called while you were in the shower.”

“I’ll pick ‘em up.” He tried not to sound so depressed, but his voice came out gruff and unexcited anyway. “What’d’you want for lunch?”

“Oh!” Specs perked up, jotting something down on his notepad before ripping off the page and handing it to Tucker. “It’s a new sandwich place Natalie told me about. Thought you might be interested. I'll look up the menu and text you what I want.”

Tucker grumbled out an agreement, tucking the paper into his pocket and heading to the front door.

Unfortunately, the mindless errand didn't do much to cheer him up, even if the business cards did look great. As he parked in an area of town he wasn't too familiar with, he hoped this new sandwich place was good—good enough to take his mind off things.

Walking up to the restaurant, he passed by a second hand CD store. He'd have to stop by sometime when he wasn’t so bummed out. Looking through the window, he could see they also had a small selection of tapes in the back, a large area for records, and rows and rows of neatly organized CDs. Closer to the door there was a bin with a large clearance sign over it, and a tall brunette who was sifting through it. Great, just another reminder of—

He felt himself freeze as she turned, her long waves moving out of her face as she continued to browse. It was Caitlin.

He swore under his breath, turning away, stepping out of the view of the window and running a hand over his hair. Shit, his hair— he hadn’t even done his mohawk before leaving the house. He wasn’t ready, hadn’t prepared himself, had resigned himself to the idea that he’d never see her again. 

He couldn’t go in there. But if he didn’t… if he didn’t, what if he really never did get to see her again? What if this was his last chance?

He rolled his shoulders back, clearing his throat and straightening out his t-shirt. He’d just go in there and talk to her. Like a normal person. 

The bell above the door jingled as he entered the store—apart from Cait, there was only an employee behind the counter and a few teenagers looking at the records in the corner. 

“Hi, welcome to CD Sanctuary! Is there—” Caitie’s greeting stopped short as she looked up from the bin and met Tucker’s eyes. She paused for a second, her voice much softer when she spoke again. “Hi.”

God, she looked good in the daylight, he thought, taking her in. She was wearing a black camisole, camouflage cargo pants that sat low on her hips, and a roughed up pair of Chucks. Despite the simple outfit, somehow he’d never seen anyone look better in anything.

“Hi,” he managed, feeling stupid as he realized she wasn't shopping, she was working. This was a bad idea. He shouldn’t have come in.

“I… um…” She shook her head, laughing quietly. “Sorry. Are you looking for something specific?”

He felt his stomach drop a little as she picked up with her employee greeting. “No, I… I just came in ‘cause… ‘cause I saw you.”

“...You did?”

The baffled surprise in her voice told him Specs was right, as much as he hated to admit it. He really must’ve been giving the completely wrong signals that night. 

“I, uh… I thought maybe we could talk.”

Caitie shot a glance over to the register, raising her voice a little. “Sure, I can help you find that!” She nodded for Tucker to follow her into one of the aisles of CDs, giving him an apologetic look as she lowered her voice again. “Sorry. My boss. He’s a little strict.”

“I don’t wanna get you in trouble,” he murmured, gesturing towards the door. “I can go—”

“Don’t.” She shook her head, stopping in front of a section that spanned from Rage Against the Machine to Red Hot Chili Peppers. She pretended to rifle through one of the rows. “It’s—I… I’ve been wanting to talk to you, actually. I mean, to apologize.”

His brows furrowed as he looked down at her. He could smell the same sweet, fruity perfume she’d been wearing the night they met, and had to resist the overwhelming urge to lean down and bury his nose against her neck. “Apologize?” 

She looked up at him briefly before her gaze returned to the CDs. “Yeah. Um… I’m really sorry for the other night. I didn’t mean for you to overhear… what you heard. I know you probably must think I’m some kind of creep. And I know it weirded you out, and I just…” She shook her head. “I’m just sorry.”

“I wasn’t weirded out.”

She finally looked up at him and held his gaze, her eyes filled with confusion.

“I was…” The admission was hard to get out. “Nervous.”

“Nervous?” she repeated quietly, like she wasn't sure if it was good or bad.

“Nervous… that you might, uh, not like me as much in person. Nervous because…” He shrugged, smiling a little. What did he have to lose? “Because I would've been nervous around you whether I heard you say that or not.”

Was he getting his point across? Where was the line drawn between subtlety and failure to communicate? Hell if he knew.

But when he saw her cheeks flush red, he knew she understood: this wasn't a one-sided attraction. 

“Oh,” was all she said in reply, her face glowing warmer as she smiled.

He couldn't help feeling a surge of pride. He was responsible for that smile, that pretty blush.

“I thought, maybe, y'know, if you're not too busy, we could… have dinner, or lunch, or breakfast, or coffee, or something… together. Sometime. As a date.” He was sure he sounded like an idiot, barely able to think straight, but she was still smiling. What else mattered?

She bounced a little on her heels, gently biting her bottom lip, but unable to dim her grin. “I– Yeah, I mean, of course. Yeah. That'd be nice.”

A smile broke out on his face, the warm rush of relief flooding over his body. She said yes. Yes, to a date, with him. It would be the first date of his life. 

Tucker got his phone from his pocket, pulling up his contacts and handing it to her. “We can plan it later, if you want. When your boss isn't watching.”

She laughed, holding the phone low out of view as she typed in her info. He liked that sound—he hoped he'd get to hear it a lot from now on. 

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Doodles based on "Yet Another Nightmare" by Catroic on Ao3 (highly recommend reading, its very good)

[patchyworx]

People talk about fast metabolisms like it's all fun and games and eating whatever you want but they fail to remember that it also means your body is Incredibly Stupid and decides that you become deficient in everything in a couple or so days where it takes most others a week. Or months compared to "oops you forgot to photosynthesize sufficiently :( no i don't care that it has been freezing and overcast for the past week, you didn't absorb enough sun. Perish Badly."

Or at least it would be if i didn't like citrus fruits so much, probably

[maniacalmole]

               When Aziraphale finally came back, Crowley didn’t really much care what he was saying, or mumbling, or choking out, but instead was watching him like a hawk for signs of what he really meant, like he always had, and it was so familiar an action that he almost didn’t even care what he found, he was just so blessed glad to be able to do it again, only what he did find was that Aziraphale was sagging under a despair and a relief so profound that eventually Crowley was satisfied enough to say, “I’m tired. Need a good night’s rest. Let’s pick this back up in the morning.”

               And Aziraphale had looked both petrified and grateful, so Crowley had leaned back on the bookshop sofa and gone to sleep. Which wasn’t really a surprise, given that he hadn’t exactly been sleeping well lately, but what had surprised him was that in the morning he’d seen Aziraphale had fallen asleep, too, something he’d hardly seen in their millennia of knowing each other. So he supposed they’d both needed it.

               Which was why, when they both woke up around noon, Crowley did something the bookshop had never seen in its decades of existence, because normally they had so many places they wanted to go together, but now all they really wanted to do was stay there, and so he ordered takeaway.

               And so there they were, Crowley sat on the sofa and Aziraphale in an armchair, Chinese takeaway boxes scattered on a hastily cleared-of-books end table, with Crowley shoveling noodles into his mouth because he hadn’t realized he’d been so hungry. And Aziraphale was holding one dumpling between a pair of chopsticks, looking like a statue.

               “So—” Crowley said, with difficulty around the noodles—how had the angel always managed to talk and eat at the same time, all while looking so prim?—and he’d never gotten the hang of chopsticks. Which, all right, he’d lived in China for a few centuries over the ages, but he’d eaten far less often than humans did, so it still wasn’t all that shameful. “So, what’s next, then?”

               “Rather a lot, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale glanced at him when he said it, did that little twitch of an eyebrow he couldn’t help doing sometimes, even when he was squashing everything down inside him, like now, then looked away.

               Crowley shoveled more noodles into his mouth. Aziraphale took the history of the world’s smallest bite of his dumpling. Crowley frowned.

               “And—er—”

               “I wish I could’ve come back to you with it all being finished,” Aziraphale said sadly. “‘Done, I solved it’. Well, I’m afraid I wasn’t all that useful.”

               “From what you told me last night, you did loads.” Crowley stared at the dumpling. “Aren’t you hungry?”

               “Oh.” Aziraphale grimaced at his chopsticks. “Er. Haven’t really eaten much. I don’t want—uh—don’t want to upset my stomach. You know how it is.”

               Crowley just frowned. He took another gargantuan bite. Too big, really. It was all he could do to chew.

               “The last thing I wanted to do was to come back to you with more problems,” Aziraphale said wretchedly. “But they just kept getting larger and larger, and eventually it was now or never—and I’m just—I’m just so useless—”

               Crowley chewed faster. He really shouldn’t have eaten so much at once. He could do the snake thing, he supposed, but he really didn’t think a big old reminder of how inhuman he was would be quite appropriate, right now. Still, he had things to say, or rather, to interrupt, so he swallowed painfully, made a horrible noise, and finally hissed, “Never mind that, just, let’s just, get through this day, all right? Just one day.”

               Aziraphale’s eyes went distant. Crowley wondered if they even measured days, in Heaven. They certainly tried not to think about it in Hell. Aziraphale was still holding that blessed dumpling, hardly touched, with perfect chopstick finesse, and he wished it would fall, just so the angel would have to catch it with his teeth.

               “What are you doing?”

               “What?” Aziraphale snapped halfway out of his daze.

               “What are you—why are you eating like that? Why aren’t you eating?”

               “I told you—” the angel said, sounding just peevish enough to spur him on.

               Crowley reached over and took the chopsticks from him. Aziraphale sputtered. Crowley gestured with the dumpling. “Why are you being so weird about it?”

               “I’m not—”

               “It’s eating. It’s food, look, here it comes—”

               “Crowley, are you airplaning that dumpling at me?”

               Crowley paused mid-airplaning the dumpling towards him. He said, “N-n—”

               Aziraphale gave him an icy stare.

               “‘Member before it was airplanes?” Crowley said. He smiled. He felt something bubbling up inside him, and Aziraphale, remembering himself and trying to look penitent again, was not going to stop it. “It was trains, for a while, right? ‘Here comes the train, carrying your food.’ Don’t think they ever did that with a horse and buggy, though. S’pose you’d imply the kid was eating the horse, which wasn’t really the thing.”

               “Crowley.”

               “Before they had food-carrying vehicles, how did they get kids to eat, then? Do you remember?”

               “Not really.” Aziraphale looked a bit wretched again. Crowley handed him back his chopsticks, and the angel took them. Took a bite. So small, it could hardly even be called a nibble.

               Crowley sighed and leaned back into his own seat. “Anyway, I guess none of it really makes sense. You’d have to eat the whole airplane, too.”

               They sat in silence for a while. Crowley took another bite of lo mein. Because of the chopsticks, and his fear, after everything, of what would happen if he dropped food on the bookshop floor, he’d held the whole carton up to his mouth and dumped it in, and now he really was choking, and after a few moments of terrified silence, he gave up and did the snake thing. Dislocating a human-shaped jaw really was less dramatic than when the entirety of you was just a long tube, but he knew it still looked odd. It wasn’t the reason he hardly ever ate in restaurants, but it was a small part of it. When he was done, he clenched his teeth back together and winced in the angel’s direction.

               Aziraphale was looking at him with a wistful expression that was part amused and part something else. He said, “I missed you.”

               Well. If everything before hadn’t been enough, that certainly was. Crowley said, “Do you at least want to try drinking something? Some cocoa?” and his own voice startled him with its softness.

               Aziraphale looked thoughtful. Then doubtful. “I—don’t know.”

               “C’mon. I’ll make you some. You’ve got to wake up the stomach with something, right?”

               “I suppose—”

               “I’ll make you some.” He rose from the sofa with the grace of a marionette being picked up by the strings, which was ironic, since he had never felt less like a puppet. “Be in the kitchenette. Right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

               And he left, because he knew he wouldn’t.

               When he came back, steaming warm mug in his hands, Aziraphale had put the dumpling away, but the doubt in his eyes had changed to something near hope. He took the cocoa and stared into it while Crowley sat back down. Not all the way, not leaning back into the sofa, but elbows resting on his knees, leaning forward towards the angel. Aziraphale looked at him, and Crowley tilted his head at the mug and raised his eyebrows, just a little. Aziraphale smiled, closed his eyes and, after taking a deep breath, took a sip. Then he winced.

               “Too hot?” Crowley said, brows pulling together.

               “I should have waited—”

               “Here.” Crowley reached for the mug and touched it with his index finger. Then, needing something to calibrate the temperature to, he put his other hand on top of Aziraphale’s. He performed a minor miracle.

               He let go, leaned back, and Aziraphale looked at him. He took another sip. The angel closed his eyes and, slowly, drank the whole thing.

               When he put the mug down, it was empty.

               “Mm?” Crowley said lightly.

               “Thank—” Aziraphale started to say, but he shifted, his face a pained grimace. He put a hand to his stomach, waving Crowley off with his other hand when the demon had made a noise of worry. The angel sighed and his face relaxed.

               “Did it upset your stomach?” Crowley asked. Again, that soft voice. Croaky with misuse.

               “A little.” Aziraphale looked up at him. He gave a watery smile. “It was wonderful.”

               Crowley felt his own face doing something. It was something like a grin. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

               Aziraphale looked at the remains of the Chinese takeaway. There were still several unopened boxes. With the memory of the angel passed out in his chair, eyes closed, chest moving slowly, Crowley had gone a bit overboard with the ordering. He hadn’t even known the bookshop’s address. Just told the delivery person the street name, and said, ‘Bookshop with a big black car in front of it. You can’t miss it.’ And he hadn’t. It was an iconic duo.

               “We could—” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “We could save those for later, yes?”

               Crowley beamed at him. “Yeah. Angel?”

               “Hm?”

               “Welcome back.”

[dangaer]

shi.n's amnesia later route is such an out of character experience bc wdym someone this cute shows me all the love they have for me and i dont healthily communicate with him that im feeling overwhelmed by it.