#it's a miracle because i still drew something

[insertdisc5]

Is it okay to ask about the Change Gods design, mostly the design in SASASA;AP? I just think it's really cool and wonder about it sometimes ^^;

i drew it literally 4 years ago so let me look at it and see if i remember anything!

wrow i still have the aseprite file for this which is a goddamn miracle. anyway it has closed eyes because i love drawing eyes like this, and it has a rope around its neck similar to mirabelle's belt because i was thinking about making it a thing in the change belief, and it has those triangles bc idk we need something there i guess????

back then i didnt have the whole "everyone can create their own interpretation of the change god" figured out, so it has a very specific face... but i did see them as a hooded, mysterious being still!

[gazeofseer]

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍?

𓇼🐚☾☼🦪 🎀🫶🏻💌💓

••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°°••....••°°°••....••

Texas, Australia, United States and California, You are a queer by soul who lives by their own even amongst the crowded room, seeking something as distant and indifferent to what seems the same after all, but subtle do you fear the idea behind crossing lines, edges that drew scars around your borderline of heart the reason you easily withdraw the click and connection with places and people, you feel everything should be new as each passing moment because anything that stay longer bored you because you feed in daydreams and expect teh same dosh to be served outside around you, but all you taste is something different but not you.

Guidance : You are looking for yourself from within by blocking all the external settings and invites believing the world to be a harm to your existence throughout your journey down the lane to changing seasons and places so far, now you are just tired and tormented wanting to settle but truly can't keeps you restless.

Leo sun, Aries Rising, 8, Saturn in 9th house, Silver accessories, Denim Jeans, You brought something last week still waiting to be worn.

I see you are not only brain fogging but also bloating with overwhelming thoughts and emotions at the same time because you want but you don't, you don't but you want so badly, you have been guided to not make any decision right now, and not to hang in either, changes kept happening, but you are holding something beyond it did. It could be a little picture or a memory too, let it go to where it belongs it will harm you in the long run. Stop sitting with disappointment, disgrace or insult. Let that find peace within you and embrace these changes as a chance for you to strike this fog with the sword of your consciousness on if the very next second you would die, what will you do in the given second of the moment? Chose what is right, and needed for now that is how you lead life always rightly despite the wrong being gifted.

Netherland, Germany, Scotland, Denver & Amsterdam, there are eerie chills to your soul which plays chivilrious in the darkness and acts demure in the light, like a nasty kid you carry the flaws around the forest creeks but throw a elegant gaze the moment a eye flickers upon you, the mask of basking in solitude feels so enchanting enough to thrive through life beyond its hardship and pain, you take it as gift for the one who got none even sorrow becomes the only life present before.

Guidance : The ostracized child, who was not even a count nor in the quantity or quality leave the first and last of being a choice but never an part of any option to even begin with? I feel you started to heal enough that you understand the value of pain you received so far and treat it exactly right that it has become your that safe home which strengthens you instead to tame, instead of guidance your spirit guides have messages 'That, we really appreciate your pure heart and acknowledge your being of existence as of great as of the any other living, we are around you, when you believe you are lucky enough after seeing something weird l, quirky and unique because that is who you are and we show up there'

Fox teddy, bear, herbivores, cozy vibes, brown eyes, eyeglasses, Aquarius Venus, Capricorn Venus or sun, writing a novel or blog, secret lover.

Paris, France, Italy, London, Russia and South Korea, What beauty of it doesn't scares a bit right? It took you a trail blaze or ages to burn down and pave one path for you that fire runs through your body despite the sickness you feel in your heart and fatigue you carry on your soul, the more you get tested the more pure you mold into the miracles and become the magic itself, you accept the essence of love, that sets free, wild and at the arms of death where one can love so truly to the depths of each feels and moves of life.

Guidance : Okay, so this pile has been through a lot bodily or mentally the sickness which prolonged seems like a default, or your mistake or an accident which made you be on bed for rest and feel this helplessness from the echoes of the room and beyond the sky where slowly you discovered and connected to your soul and learned the ultimate truth of being all that you need to yourself exactly when you need yourself.

'Hey, sorry to interrupt I am just worried and kind off ..sorry again how are you? I hope you are doing well now, I promise I am on my way please, kindly don't give upon me, for that I have not yet arrived into your life, all the lovers you met were the lie you told yourself to hold yourself tight in your head, but let go the grudge and find me within your heart whenever you look into the mirror with those doe eyes, those two flicks of your hair curls around you ear I did kiss those cheeks with freckles and toughened skin, I did hold you like the witch who carries her wretched wand in her power and strength, I love you, can you hear that, I say that everyday before you sleep'

Well, that was tear jerking right? Give me a second.

Important Updated my services list do check (;

[lurkingshan]

Spare Me Your Mercy, Love in the Big City, and the Trap of Pursuing Mainstream Popularity for Queer Art

I read this excellent post by @waitmyturtles yesterday tackling the frustrating failures of Spare Me Your Mercy, a show that was one of my most anticipated of the year, but that ended up so lost in its own confusing blend of sauces that I didn't even finish it. I appreciated her clarity that despite the show receiving strong ratings and finding popularity with the mainstream domestic audience, that doesn't actually make it a success as a piece of narrative storytelling. And if anything, its popularity underlines why it was a failure as a queer narrative, in particular.

Because here's the thing about great queer art—it's almost never popular with mainstream audiences, especially in socially conservative countries. High quality, well-executed, honest and authentic queer art is more likely to be protested than celebrated in places where real queer people are not safe to live free lives. For an illustration of this, look no further than another highly anticipated queer drama of this year in Love in the Big City. Easily the queerest show to ever get made and aired on Korean television, it drew major protests before it even started, forcing the production to release it quickly in one go to ensure it would reach audiences. And why were those conservative groups so afraid of this little old drama? Because even just in its trailer and promotional materials, it was clear this was no sanitized, G-rated drama created to make gay people seem more palatable to the masses (unlike the film version with the same name, which not coincidentally has been much more warmly received by the Korean media establishment). This show was real, and raw, and QUEER in a way that terrified those bigots, because they know one of the most important ways the oppressed can advocate for themselves is by demonstrating their humanity through art. 

Which brings me back to turtles’ post, and the importance of separating the concerns of art and commerce when discussing the different ways media can succeed. This is something I had some good dialogue about with @biochemjess @pharawee @clairedaring @flowerbeasblog and turtles (and even more of you in the tags) when I was still watching and posting about Spare Me Your Mercy. I originally posted to unpack why the show was flopping narratively, which turned into a discussion of the fact that it was getting good ratings from the domestic audience despite this. And while I appreciated understanding how the show is landing with its priority audience, for me, it’s very important to keep a distinction between these two different kinds of success. Especially in discussions of queer art, and especially for a show whose creators explicitly said they were intentionally downplaying the queer romance part of the queer romance ( @benkaben) to avoid “distracting” from their other messaging goals. 

The important thing to keep in mind is that for queer stories, when they are popular with a mainstream audience it’s often because they are stripping any authenticity from the representation of queer people. Turtles addressed this well in her review of 2gether when she posited that part of the reason it was such a phenomenon in conservative Asian countries (aside from the timing of its release in the early days of the global pandemic), was because its presentation of queerness was mostly unrecognizable to real queer people, stripped of any true notion of queer sexuality or the realities of homophobia. Compare the reception of The Miracle of Teddy Bear—a show that absolutely refused to make its central queer character palatable for a mainstream audience, because the fact that he wasn’t palatable was the point—to that of Spare Me Your Mercy, a show whose creators chose to censor their own story. The ugly truth is that when we’re talking about queer dramas, the best and most vital shows are pretty much anathema to mainstream ratings success.

The impulse to pursue mainstream popularity and commercial success for queer art inevitably leads to watering down queer stories ( @twig-tea) to make them more light, comfortable and familiar to a majority heterosexual and socially conservative audience. And yes, of course, some degree of commercial success is necessary for queer art to get made in the first place. This is how the Thai BL market took off, by recognizing that there was an audience beyond queer people who were open to watching stories about boys falling in love, as long as it didn’t get too real. But there is a careful line to walk here, and it’s so important not to confuse popularity with artistic merit. Queer people won’t win liberation by self-censoring queer media to make it more palatable for mainstream audiences. We win when we make queer art so good and so honest that the mainstream is forced to acknowledge it. We win by challenging the mainstream perspective on queer people and how they should behave, not by catering to it. As @bengiyo said in a completely different discourse, the question is not whether the audience can love queer characters whose actual queerness is suppressed for their comfort. That kind of respectability politics is old hat and it never fucking gets us anywhere. The real question he posed is this: “Do you love us when we’re ugly, when we’re sick, when we’re old, when we’re being mean or catty?”

Which is why a show like Love in the Big City ultimately won by being so excellent, and so true, and so undeniable, that it broke through with audiences around the world and achieved some measure of recognition in spite of how very unpalatable it was to its domestic audience. Unlike Spare Me Your Mercy, this show did not get amazing domestic ratings, but its message was heard far beyond those who watched it on Korean television. And that is the point. Making authentic art that advances the struggle of queer people and making nominally queer art that can achieve mainstream popularity are completely different pursuits, and we must keep that in mind when we discuss whether and how these shows succeeded or failed. And while both must exist in a healthy media ecosystem, one will always be more vital for the survival of queer people than the other. 

[poppedbubblgum]

I’ve had this au in my brain for months now and only recently drew for it so I’m here to add to the pile of rise aus haha

It’s the standard separated au but my version B) - Donnie grew up with Splinter, Leo stayed with Draxum, Raph ended up at the battle nexus and Mikey was left to roam the streets of the Hidden City.

More info under the cut-

Donnie: The most mentally stable of the brothers somehow. He was raised in the sewers with splinter, and even though he did receive care, splinter still couldn’t really provide much in terms of affection. Despite that they still love each other, even if distantly. He’s chronically online. He knows every vine ever and plays fps games a lot yes I made him a gamer. He and April are extremely close in this au, having met at a young age and April being the closest thing Donnie has to a sibling until finding his brothers. Splinter also refuses to tell Donnie anything to do with mutants/yokai, or even where they came from, much to Donnie’s dismay. Without his brothers and their antics, he doesn’t get out much, and hasn’t made a battle/protective shell for himself yet.

April: She and Donnie met in early childhood and were practically inseparable, them both being only children, and they basically became each other’s annoying sibling. She’s the only reason Donnie came out of his shell (heh) and she likes to take him onto the surface streets for shenanigans.

Leo: Huguinn pulled Leo from the wreckage of Draxum’s lab and was raised in the rebuilt lab. Draxum genuinely didn’t expect the turtles to come out as literal infants after mutation so it’s a miracle Leo even survived this long lol. (Huguinn and Muninn did most of the work tbh) Draxum considers Leo to be a biproduct/fragment of a failed experiment and uses Leo more as an errand boy than anything else. Because of that Leo’s and Draxum’s relationship is also distant. Leo acts nonchalant and sarcastic for the most part, but he can’t help but want to please Draxum. Leo knows about his brothers and even tried looking for them early on, but eventually gave up. He and Donnie meet first. Also he sneaks out to get pizza at Hueso’s when he’s bored.

Raph: His and Mikey’s stories start out intertwined. They both ended up in the hidden city and lived out the early years of their lives there. When he was around 7 years old, Mikey being 5, Raph was taken as a contestant for a battle royale at the nexus, composed entirely of young yokai. (The battle nexus is quite literally a gladiator ring where contestants kill one another) Raph was taken due to his large size, and after managing to survive the battle royale, Big Mama allowed him to stay and become a fully fledged fighter at the nexus. He moved his way up in rank and became one of the top Nexus champions under the stage name, The Beast. He’s soft spoken and quick to anger at first, having received so little friendly interactions.

Mikey: He and Raph lived in the hidden city together until Raph was taken when he was around 5 years old. After that he was basically left to fend for himself. He survived via stealing and living on rooftops and alleys Aladdin style. He’s incredibly agile and a master pickpocket. He even made a name for himself in the district where he lives as the local thief. This, however, hasn’t dampened his spirits at all and he’s just as bright and bubbly as ever. He loves anything and everything to do with art and often does graffiti wherever he can. He’s an avid battle nexus fan and watches the battles whenever he can ( Leo is also a huge fan).

I’ve legitimately had this au in my head for months and this isn’t even close to everything I’ve conjured up but I had to make something for it or else I’d explode. Despite there being a lot of room for angst in this au, I imagine it as more lighthearted and similar to the show in terms of comedy. If you read this far congrats and give me your strength please

[layla4567]

The Medical

Summary: An incident causes you to have to take care of an injured Sanji.

Warnings: Mention of blood and wounds of course, sword fights, not proofread

Pairing: Sanji!opla x Fem!reader

Wc: 3k

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You could say that it all started when Luffy was the first to get hurt. Days before he had been kidnapped by Arlong and gagged and tied. When they rescued him, Luffy was unconscious due to a blow to the head, and you noticed with horror that he was bleeding slightly on the back, staining his dark curls.

"My God Luffy!! What the hell happened?!"-You shouted as Nami, Zoro and Sanji held him by the legs and arms to take him to his room.

You ran to them so you could heal him. You were in charge of being the "nurse" of the crew. You were not an expert but your intensive care and your desire to help always worked miracles. Despite the few nursing things that were on the ship and your little knowledge, your kindness and maternal affection seemed to be enough when it came to treating wounds.

They gently placed the boy in his hammock, resting his head on a pillow. You approached, worried, rolling up your shirt sleeves, ready to cure him.

"You need something? Do you want us to help you?"-Sanji asked

"No, I want everyone to leave now."

Your authoritarian tone brooked no reply. They knew you were firm when it came to doing your job as a nurse and needed to work alone and quietly. The three nodded silently and left, Zoro being the last to close the door. You turned to see Luffy who was still unconscious and got to work. Gently lifting his head to see the wound better, you brushed away strands of hair until you found it. Luckily it wasn't that big, you carefully disinfected it and put a patch on it so the wound could close.

After a few long minutes the brown boy slowly opened his eyes and woke up. With a grimace of pain he looked at you confused and you gave him a comforting smile, resting your hand on his wrist and caressing the back of his hand.

"Ugh my head... what happened?"

"You received a blow to the head but don't worry, I've already bandaged you up. Now you have to rest for a few days, okay?"

Luffy tried to smile but he still felt like his head was throbbing. Nami, Zoro and Sanji entered the room to see how their captain was doing. They were happy to know that he had finally woken up. Days passed like that and you stayed close to Luffy the whole time so that he wouldn't get bored. For a boy as hyperactive as him, staying in bed resting was a nightmare. He wanted to go sailing and have adventures, but you were firm and convinced him to stay in his hammock.

You went to great lengths to entertain him and provide relief. You read to him, you told him stories from your childhood, you held his hand and drew small circles with your thumb on his arm to calm him down. And little by little all your efforts paid off because Luffy was recovering. Sanji was in charge of feeding Luffy with foods that have protein and fiber to give him energy.

Knock Knock

The cook opened the door entering with a tray of mixed salad with pieces of chicken. Seeing the food, Luffy jumped up in his hammock and licked his lips hungrily. You laughed, shaking your head, and stood up to grab the tray of food.

"Thank you Sanji, you are a charm"-you said smiling

Sanji felt his heart begin to pump more blood upon hearing your sweet words but he simply smiled at you again.

"My pleasure, darling"

You left the tray to Luffy who had already started stretching his arms and flexing his fingers repeatedly as if he were a baby trying to reach his favorite toy and you left the room along with the cook. Sanji had work to do so he returned to the kitchen to continue preparing the next dishes of the day. You sat on a stool sighing tired but satisfied with your work and relieved that Luffy is feeling better. Sanji was cutting carrots when with a small laugh he said

"I'm glad that our captain is better but I almost get jealous seeing that he received so much care"

You rested your elbow on the table and your chin on your hand, looking at him funny. Was he implying that he wanted you to take care of him? You hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid and get hurt on purpose so he could spend more time with you and your miraculous hands.

"I take care of people that's my job Sanji…"

He smiling focused on continuing cutting the vegetables, but you quickly added

"But I take care of each one differently.. if that's what you wanted to know"

You smiled tenderly and mockingly, leaving him speechless. Then he laughed again and smiled at you, biting his lip slightly as he watched you walk away from the kitchen to go to the deck.

WEEKS LATER

And this brings us to today. Days after Luffy's accident he had recovered wonderfully thanks to you. You, Zoro and Sanji had decided to go on a mission together to stop Arlong and his minions, a little revenge for Luffy. The straw hat captain along with Nami tried to stop the fishman and distract him away from where the three of you were. Unfortunately, Arlong's minions were too many and they had you surrounded.

You and Zoro were dedicated to slashing with sabers while Sanji was very good at delivering kicks like a karate fighter. Each dodge was followed by a thrust from you and Zoro also helped you by staying close to you, back to back. Although the cook knew how to defend himself, he did not have any weapon and every now and then you would cast worried glances at where he was to confirm that he was okay. Zoro noticed that your movements were becoming sloppy.

"Y/n focus!"-He said while with a quick movement he cut the torso of an enemy near you.

You growled softly and forced yourself to be more attentive to your surroundings, briefly neglecting your blonde companion. There were already several enemies fallen and there were not many left to take down when a scream froze your blood and made you turn to see where it came from. A fishman had wounded Sanji with his sword near his waist.

"SANJI!!"

You broke away from Zoro and ran towards the blonde boy who was holding his left side as he knelt on one leg with a contorted grimace. You crouched close to him feeling like your world was falling apart and looked closer at the wound. He had a cut on the left side of his waist and was bleeding, soaking his clothes. You swallowed your panic and grabbed Sanji's arm, putting it around your shoulders to lift him up and stabilize him.

"Zoro come help me please!!"-you begged in anguish

He sighed as he stabbed his sword into an enemy to let him fall into the sand. He ran towards you as Sanji growled under his breath. With your help Zoro put the cook's other arm over his shoulders and together they helped him walk. Unfortunately the three of them were on a kind of round rock in the water and had to follow a path of separate platforms to get out of there. So with a lot of effort they had to help him jump.

"Come on Sanji you can do it"

You encouraged him as you grabbed his wrist and held your other hand on his back. Each rock became more difficult and on one Sanji was about to fall to his knees but you caught him just in time.

"I got you"

When you reached dry land, you detached yourself slightly from him and took off his jacket so you could temporarily bandage the wound.

"Dear.. that's not necessary"-He said with a grimace as he held his wound.

"For god sakes Sanji you are bleeding, I think it is necessary"

You took off the scarf that you had on your hip as a belt and wrapped it around his waist, tightening a little so as not to cause hemorrhage and stop the bleeding. As Sanji squeezed the handkerchief he let out a grunt. They soon arrived back at the ship while Nami and Luffy followed them after noticing the cook's condition and having explained to them what happened. Sanji still had an arm on your shoulders so he could walk better.

"Where are you taking him?"-Zoro asked

"To my quarter, now"

You didn't want to waste time, you knew that in your room you would have everything you needed to cure him. This time the wound was more serious and you needed many things to disinfect it. When you got to your room with the others following you, you placed Sanji on your bed, taking care not to touch the wound. You did everything quickly and so nervously that you didn't even realize that the other crew members were with you.

"Let's go, let's leave them alone, c'mon"

Nami pushed Luffy and Zoro towards the door as you thanked her with a nod. When you were both alone, you went to look for a first aid kit and a bucket with water and a clean cloth, your hands were shaking slightly and you were so nervous that you looked like a hummingbird flying frantically from here to there. God you had to act quickly or the wound could get infected and you didn't want that, you couldn't even think about what would happen if you couldn't cure him, if he didn't survive you… you. You felt a hot sting in your eyes and a lump in your throat. Sanji just looked at you realizing your affliction so when you sat on the bed to heal him he took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I'll be fine my missus, you are the best nurse I know"

You closed your eyes, lowering your head and laughing softly, no matter how mortally wounded Sanji was, he would always find a way to continue flirting with you. While he was lying down, you removed the scarf from his waist that had gotten stained and you noticed that his shirt was also red on that side. You raised it a little to see the cut and let out a gasp. It wasn't that deep but it was quite big. You grabbed a damp cloth and began to clean the wound and put pressure on it. Sanji grunted again in pain as he felt the pressure of the cloth.

"I'm sorry"

"Don't apologize darling, I know you're being as delicate as possible, as always."

Damn it. His words tickled your stomach as he looked at you with his blue puppy eyes. You avoided looking at him and continued cleaning the wound. The chef in love studied your face as if you were an indecipherable manuscript. He concentrated on your eyelashes, your cheekbones, your lips. Then he looked at your soft hands working his wound and how your fingers lovingly avoided touching the cut.

"You know, despite everything I feel satisfied to finally be able to be part of your magical care, sweetherart"

You laughed, feeling your cheeks turn pink. If he kept calling you cute nicknames in less than 5 seconds you would rush in to kiss him. But you held back and finished cleaning up the traces of blood. You were going to put disinfectant on him when you realized that you couldn't work with his shirt closed and rolled up.

"Sanji…uh"

"Yes? What do you need?"

"I n-need you to open your shirt"-you said in one breath, embarrassed.

He saw you nervous and just smiled "Oh, sure"

The blonde boy quickly unbuttoned from the bottom up, exposing his bare chest. You didn't want to look like a pervert but your eyes quickly strayed to his pecs and abs that were well defined. You blushed and quickly looked at his wound, trying not to see him, Sanji chuckled, amused by your embarrassment. You grabbed a cotton pad with disinfectant and placed a hand on his abdomen to better look at the cut and place the cotton pad properly. When you did that, Sanji gasped, feeling the heat of your fingers near his navel. You mumbled an apology but he let you continue, despite the heat coming from your hand he felt a chill run down his spine.

"Alright I'm almost done, now I have to bandage you. Could you sit down for a few seconds?"

He nodded and slowly sat on the bed next to you, taking care of his movements so as not to awaken a wave of pain on his side, you helped him by keeping a hand on his back. You also told him to take off his shirt so you could bandage him better. Why would you have told him? When he took off his striped shirt you got a better look at his defined torso and broad back. If before your cheeks were rosy, now your whole face was the color of rubies when they shine in the sun. Good heavens, you couldn't take your eyes off his body, his muscles were always hidden, capriciously imprisoned in that striped shirt he always wore and now you could finally see them in all their splendor, free. You were tempted to run your fingers over his skin and caress it but that would have been too much for you and him. Sanji knew you were looking at him and smiled flirtatiously.

"So? Will you finish bandaging me now, miss Y/n?"

You looked into his eyes with enormous surprise, feeling caught red-handed and you shook your head to get rid of the dirty thoughts that had invaded you a while ago. With trembling fingers and your face still red you hurried to wrap the gauze around his narrow waist. You pretended to be calm even though inside you were dying of nerves and certainly having Sanji's eyes boring into you didn't help. Despite the speed you tried to be gentle and considerate with him. When you finished, you jumped up, moving away from him as if he were a hot arm and you sighed in relief, the worst had already happened.

"Thank you very much lovely nurse"

You smiled shyly. Sanji was about to put his shirt back on when you stopped him.

"Wait, your shirt is stained!"-you exclaimed

He seemed to realize it at that moment and looked at the stain. He was going to reply that it wasn't a big deal when you quickly exclaimed again.

"Stay here, I'll bring you a new one."

You trotted towards his room and felt strange when you entered it. It was the first time you were in his room and it was something…so intimate. You felt a chill remembering that he was also in your room now. You quickly grabbed a random white shirt and went back to where he was. He was waiting for you sitting smiling, you gave him the shirt and he stood up to put it on. This time you looked away and covered your eyes to give him privacy. Sanji looked at you and laughed happily, you were standing in front of him and you covered your eyes with your hands as if you were going to play hide and seek, he thought it was cute.

"Ok you can look now"

You slowly uncovered one eye and then the other, how could it be possible that he always looked good in shirts? Sanji threatened to head towards the door but you stopped him by putting your hands on his chest, he looked at you surprised.

"Ah, ah, ah, nothing like that. You will stay here until you recover, like I did with Luffy."

"B-but the food…"

"Don't worry about that, we'll take care of it."

You laid Sanji back on the bed and gave him a kiss on the forehead, brushing away his blonde bangs as you left your room.

"How is he?"-Nami asked you that same afternoon while they were in the kitchen.

"Better, but his wound will take a while to heal."

"And who will make the food?"

"We will, who else but?"

A muffled, mocking laugh was heard near you. Zoro was sitting on a stool drinking.

"What a good joke Y/n, you should be a comedian."

"I'm serious Zoro"

"But how do you expect us to cook something? We don't even know how to boil water"-Nami said

"Well, we'll learn how, we'll have to do it, I have to bring Sanji lunch…and the rest of us have to eat too, of course."

Zoro rolled his eyes.

"Fine, why don't we prepare something simple like pasta?"

"Good luck trying to boil water"

Nami hit Zoro in the back of the head.

"Well instead of complaining why don't you help come up with ideas?"

"Don't pay attention to him, pasta is fine"-Nami said smiling at you and placing her hand on your shoulder.

You looked all over the cupboard for packets of noodles but oh surprise! There was nothing left…

"Great, I better go before we starve to death"

Zoro snorted and turned away from there. You sighed in frustration as Nami stayed with you for whatever. Suddenly you remembered that your mother used to prepare a very good risotto for you when you were a child, you used to watch her cook your favorite dish and because you insisted so much she taught you how to cook it. You weren't as good as your mother at cooking but you did it carelessly. You grabbed a package of rice and the other ingredients and with Nami's help you managed to finish a quite edible risotto.

After serving the straw hats' dishes you went with a plate to your room where Sanji was. You found him lying down flipping through a book of yours. When he saw you come in with the food he smiled widely.

"I hope you didn't have any problems cooking."

"Let's say we manage not to burn down the kitchen…and the entire ship"

Sanji laughed warmly and then looked at the risotto you had prepared. He closed his eyes breathing in the delicious aroma and could feel his mouth watering.

"Is that.. what I think it is?"

"Yes sir, an old recipe from my mother. She used to prepare it for me every time I asked her"

Without thinking it twice, Sanji grabbed the plate and put a slice of rice in his mouth. You anxiously hoped that he would like it and that it wouldn't taste horrible. When he swallowed the bite, the blonde boy opened his eyes and looked at you in surprise. Oh no, he didn't like it you thought.

"Sanji I..-"

“Y/n this is really good!”

Wait, what?

"I didn't know you also had cooking skills."

"Do you really think it's delicious?"

"Of course I do! Why would I lie to you?"

You sighed in relief and smiled until your eyes narrowed. After eating you stayed with him chatting, you caressed his hair and cheek and he melted with your touch, sighing with happiness. Sometimes you would sing to him to entertain him or put him to sleep and then kiss him on the cheek or forehead. The days passed and he recovered more and more, he could even stand up and walk around the ship, but secretly sometimes he continued sleeping in your room just so he could be close to your presence.

"That story was beautiful, sweetie."

"I'm glad you liked it, good night Sanji"

You smiled as he closed his eyes and settled into the sheets. You were sitting near him, you liked to watch him sleep, not in a creepy way but he looked so peaceful like an angel. You got up and walked over to see him closer. Her eyelashes caressed the top of her cheeks, her soft skin shone with the moonlight, her thin lips seemed more rosy and velvety. Without being able to help it, you kissed her lips softly as if they were going to break, it seemed like you wanted to wake up the sleeping beauty. You moved a few centimeters away from his face and noticed his corners curl into a smile. Horrified, you covered your mouth and Sanji opened his eyes slightly, laughing softly.

"Sorry, I thought you were sleeping!!"

Sanji pulled you back to him laughing.

"There's no need to worry sweetheart, I know I'm irresistible"

You were about to protest but he gently pushed you towards your bed so that you lay next to him causing you to gasp slightly. You decided not to resist, a part of you wanted this anyway. The cook caressed your cheek with his thumb, his face close to yours.

"I never thanked you for saving my life. Thank you really Y/n"

"Oh don't exaggerate, it's the least I could do for you. I like to take care of you"

You could swear that despite the darkness, Sanji's face turned slightly reddish. You kissed his nose and laid on his chest. Now he was the one who felt butterflies in his stomach. Stroking your back and with his chin on your head you both fell asleep deeply.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

oh man i just love writing one character bandaging/healing the other's wounds. chef's kiss

[mellowwillowy]

Teasing (Bullying) Yan! Eldritch Horrors/TricksterS' Cock

(*peaces out after making them jealous*)

CW: GN! God Reader (mentioned as male and female), mentioned breeding,Bullied cocks (RIP Erickson), "what happens when you accidentally touch their pee pee" :D ps: don't mind the names.

---------------------

- You were only doing what you usually do, your hand inside the bathtub feeling his tentacles until you were actually feeling something else.

- You did not realize it until you finally touched something hairy, there's no way a slimy tentacle has that right?

- Your left hand went to feel another thing in the hope of finding his tentacle. Bam bam, you got his tensed thigh instead. You could have sworn you heard him hissed slightly from the contact.

- "No looking back."

- That was the deal you had with him. You got to relax with him in the tub but you were not allowed to turn back. Why? Because he knew his face would be peppered by kisses non-stop if you were allowed to look at him.

- You decided to act dumb and kept on feeling it, squeezing and tickling it every now and then.

- He didn't voice any of his discontent and only stayed silent while occasionally twitching when you teased one of his veins.

- You wiggled on his lap, teasing his boner with your plump ass while humming to yourself.

- "Your tentacle isn't that large this time hm?"

- You did not even bother to stroke his ego (both literal and), even worse, you start to compare his sizes with his brother's.

- "I never knew he has larger tentacles than yours. Perhaps his tentacle would be waaaay stronger in both squeezing and penetrating?" (Penetrating, what?)

- He stayed silent but you could feel his hands feeling your shoulder blades, peppering your wet neck with kisses before it turned into hickeys and bite marks.

- You squealed a bit at the contact and pain, relishing in the sting of it.

- "Are you competing for the power of your bites with his? I can give you the win if you want~"

- Another splash of oil to the burning fire. He may be silent and demeaning, but angering him will have you faced with something even worse than the worst.

- "Ahh, I remember how one of my devotees used to go crazy and mark me, hard. Here." You pointed to the place where your follower bit, "Mmh, he even drew a lot of blood to the point I thought he was some kind of vampire or he was trying to bring me with him to death."

- Rest assured, that man had long been sent his way driven to madness as the man bit himself to death. His teeth were all shaped into sharp rows of shark's teeth to make him feast himself easier, all done by himself under his influence.

- "I promise you that I'll reserve you the best place in the lake."

- He licked the blood he drew clean, relishing in how tasty it tasted in his tongue.

- "I'd rather not demonstrate just how much it's capable of binding you to me for eternity. Even if this body could not conceive, a miracle is still a miracle, no?" (works both F/M)

- He knew you were acting dumb, but who was he to confront you about stuff that he had known you would never admit about?

- "What can this little thing do to me? Break my bones? Can it even crack me?"

- "Rest assured that it can birth me genuine happiness of seeing my offspring inside you." (Be it a male, female, or intersex, it'll work either way~)

- You wiggled your ass on him again, this time you let go of his cock and feel it with your ass instead, "Then how about you show me just how mighty the King in Yellow is?"

- He was mighty, all evident in the bulge of your stomach filled with dripping cum. You whined when he pushed the leaking cum back into you before lining his cock to your entrance again.

- "Stop acting like a damn innocent virgin when you are nothing but a god that is turned on by my degradations."

- Don't worry, HAITA will be there to pamper you with his never-ending praises of worship.

Hastur (HAITA - ???)

- You were only cuddling with him under the weighted blankets, shutting yourselves away from the cruel cold.

- Your hand was ruffling his fluffy air and then moved to his back, hugging him tightly.

- He responded by pulling you closer to his chest, nose nestling on your head while his leg wrapped around yours.

- You moved your hand to feel his chiseled chest before turning away from him, turning yourself into a small spoon.

- Noel who was oblivious to this whined a bit, his arms wrapped around you tightly.

- You chuckled and moved your hand to bring his leg to wrap it around your leg. Boom. It's his crotch (How? Don't ask me).

- He immediately hissed at the contact, body jolting forward as your hand made contact with his member.

- You were certain you were feeling something you shouldn't have and as though you were trying to confirm it, you felt it by rubbing it up and down, his meat slowly getting harder.

- "Dear... not there..." he whispered into your nape, lip feeling your bare neck while leaving a trail of kisses.

- You knew you should let it to but you were feeling rather 'needy', wanting more of his reactions and whimpers. So what did you do? You let go of your hand and grind your ass around his hardened cock instead.

- "Dear... what are you doing...?"

- "It feels cold if I don't snuggle myself closer to you." And that was a fucking lie.

- Just how convenient was it to have his meat ground by your ass? Was your ass freezing and in need of heating itself with his cock? If so, he wouldn't hesitate to help you.

- His hands put you still in place as he started grinding his member against you, rubbing himself with your ass? Had he lost all his feelings of shame like his brother? (Erickson slander time)

- You relished the way he needily used you, something he doesn't do that often. You could feel his cock growing larger as his breath grew raggier. You could feel him panting into your neck while his grip tightened around your waist.

- You lived for this, to see and feel your adorable lover getting all flustered over the slightest sleight of hand. Just how sensitive was he that a mere touch could turn him this needy?

- "Mmh... faster... wanna feel warmer..."

- He complied and increased his pace, lip bitten to prevent his moans from slipping out. Grunts echoed in your ears as you started rubbing your thighs together.

- "So good hm? Just like someone I remember although... who was it again?" Your mind drifted to find the identity of the person who you said was similar to him, unaware of how his jaw clenched at the mention of someone else. Who was it? Someone he had not personally had their bones crushed into pieces? Perhaps he should start checking his journal again...

- "Ahh... It's that one crazy devotee. Come to think of it, what happened to him?" Your statement did not help him at all and instead made him brim with rage and jealousy. How could someone of a low-life be allowed to grind their disgusting thing onto you?

- Oh no no, he would never be angry with you. He could only be furious with those who deemed themselves worthy of feeling you even just for the slightest. Could you imagine what happened to their fingers and anything that touched you?

- "It seemed like you were out of your mind. Even I myself could hold back so why couldn't you?"

- Unlike his usual calm or flustered facade, his pace increased and it grew rougher. He felt the need to prove himself that he was allowed to do more and better than those dust, of course, still mindful of his power to not accidentally hurt you.

- "This damn pant is in the way..."

- Also him asking you non-stop if you were OK after you two had done the deed... "Are you alright? Did I go too hard? Should I get you an ice pack? Oh no no, of course I should! Please wait!" (King of Aftercare...)

Noel (NUG/???) - Trickster

- You two were twirling around in the middle of the air with cosmic glowing below you, performing your favorite waltz while fooling around with him. The two of you jumped like a rabbit while occasionally wrestling each other like bulls.

- All were fun and joy until you locked him into the wrong position. No, it wasn't wrong, it was inconvenient. The two of you cackled before you tried to pull away from the position, hand on the place you shouldn't be.

- "Oof-" Erickson groaned the moment your palm held onto something soft of him. You paid no mind and held the soft surface even harder, making him double immediately. (RIP baby trapping)

- You immediately let go when he double, examining him closely before you realized it was his cock that you gripped earlier judging by how he was cupping it. You could have sworn you saw his soul leaving his body for a moment.

- "Did that hurt so much?" You patted his back, "Or are you just being a lil wussy?"

- Erickson shot a glare at you with a tear in one of his eyes, "Why don't you have a feel of it? Better yet, who would even enjoy this?"

- You thought to yourself, "There are though. Some of my devotees once offered themselves to be kicked right into their nuts." You were not wrong, but you were talking to the wrong person at the wrong time as well.

- "They said something like they have no use for it since they could never do me anyway." You shrugged your shoulders, grinning stupidly at his face. Your followers cared not about your gender, they only cared about you gracing them with your appearance and smile.

- Erickson gritted his teeth in annoyance, he planned on breaking their legs one by one again this time. (RIP Noel's leg)

- It wasn't like he was oblivious to everything just like how he presented himself to you. Oh no no, he was way more than that. Could you even count how many pitiful souls were sent to the Church for purification? Noel was there dusting them after Ollie wrung them like dirty cloth, squeezing blood out of their body for the Gods to drink later.

- Of course, he and Noel did not even bother to drink it. Such a disgusting thing going inside their throat? They'd rather drink the blood of other beasts.

- He had to make sure he wrung more of them again after this. His priority now was to give you a taste of your own words.

- He caged your body that was sitting despite the two of you were not on any ground. He was smart enough to tie you with his ties first just in case you threw yourself down to run away. Both your wrists were tied into one, his hand holding your wrists while his knee feel your sex.

- "I wonder what your devotees thought of you, whether they saw you as a maiden or a respectful God, they would never know how much of a whore you are." He hissed as his mouth rested on your neck, peppering it with bitemarks, drawing blood only for him to drink.

- You looked down into his crotch, eyeing him in worry.

- "Ya' think that would stop me from railing you? I ain't a wussy, baby. An effeminate would never be that wussy." He pulled you by your ankles, his clothed crotch feeling yours, "My junior is still capable of producing more Juniors after all... but ah, even if your body could not conceive, I'll find a way and fuck this body of yours until a miracle happened." (Both fem and male works...)

- His words burnt, but you knew he had always been the burning one. Always using your weakness against you but who were you to complain?

- "Get ready for lots of icepacks, no, not for me but for you~"

- He might not be able to win against Hastur in the competition of filling you up so much but that doesn't mean he did not fill you to the brim <3

Erickson (YEB/???) - Trickster

���ꜰᴛᴇʀɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ:

OC used: ???, Noel, Erickson

Reader:

Fox Reader :Fox reader is a deity that appears as a Man and Woman, mostly as a Man when meeting devotees. Fox Reader's gender is questionable but is depicted as feminine. Nonetheless, their body could never conceive until a miracle happened *it happened* Unlike Cat Reader who is intersex, Fox Reader's body is questionable thoroughly. For Male Readers, I'm aware that Omega? can get pregnant? Sorry, I just really wanna write breeding shits- Pink colored text = +Jealousy

[heathersdesk]

My grandfather was killed in a hit and run accident in 1978.

His mother and sister struggled with life after that. They decided to go on a trip across the United States together to get away from things for a while.

I discovered this trip when I was going through photo albums and suddenly saw a place I recognized.

The Salt Lake Temple.

They went to many places during that trip. But there was something truly special to me that, in one of the worst seasons of their lives, they ended up at the temple.

I served part of my mission at Temple Square. I was waiting for a visa to Brazil that I began to think was never coming. I had a truly horrendous time in the MTC babysitting a district of Elders who spent weeks on end bullying me and tearing down my self-esteem. I was told directly by someone, I forget who now, that I was being sent there to recover. And when I realized that the mission had no young Elders in it at all, that it was only Sisters and senior couples, I came to appreciate what that meant.

I had so many wild interactions there with so many people. Some of them were strange, like the guy who viewed the Book of Mormon as proof of alien interactions with humans. There were moments of heartbreak, like the woman who was in tears at the Christus statue who attacked us when we checked in on her. There were moments of pure delight, like when an LDS family with two young daughters came to that same Christus statue. The oldest girl, no older than 4 or 5, squealed "JESUS" and ran to the Savior's feet, little sister in tow. Whenever I hear someone mention the teaching to become as a little child, she is exactly who I think of.

There were also moments that were meant solely for me, like when I met the first Sister to ever be called to the Boston mission I had hoped to go to to wait for my visa. Boston has a large Brazilian population, many of whom are members of the Church. I had begged in prayer to be sent there and was told by other people it wouldn't happen because "Sisters don't go there." I had an entire conversation with the woman who was going to be that change. It seemed cruel to me at the time, dangling the carrot of something I wanted right in front of my face. In time, I've realized it was so I would remember that God does miracles and is aware of the desires of my heart, even if it means I don't get what I want. Someone needed to exercise enough faith to push that door open for women. I put my full weight behind it, and I can be just as proud that it opened for someone else.

But some of my favorite people I met there were people who just made me laugh. I met a Jewish convert from New York who told us his conversion story, how what drew him in was the Plan of Salvation. He summarized it in a New York accent in a voice I can still hear in my mind: "So you're a god, eventually. But can you pay RENT?!"

One of my favorite people I met was a Scottish convert named Agnes who was doing the Mormon trail across the US, beginning in New England and ending in Utah. She was a much older woman and told us all about her pilgrimage, and how she had cuddled with the oxen at the baptismal font in the Manhattan New York Temple. (I've been there. You enter into the baptistry on face level with them, or did the last time I was there.) She shared her testimony with us, and I'll never forget what she said.

She explained that the story of Joseph Smith was really hard to get her mind around. It truly is an insane set of asks: angels, gold plates, polygamy, and all the rest. She talked about how she came to accept it—not through any kind of empirical evidence or proof, but through faith and what that looked like.

For her, it was the recognition that being LDS was the best way she had ever encountered to live an excellent life. She said that the worst case scenario she could imagine is one where God would say to her, "You know that whole business with Joseph Smith was a load of crock, right? But you lived such a good life, I have to let you in anyway."

That has always stayed with me. Agnes was one of many people who came to the Square looking for something. I saw people come there looking for faith, or a fight, and truly everything in between. And it's only now that I'm older and wiser that I see something clearly now that I couldn't see then.

Agnes didn't need to come to Temple Square to find faith. She already had a tremendous amount of faith. She, and many others, were looking for conviction. I was at Temple Square long enough to learn you don't get that from a place. While a place like Temple Square can illuminate the possibilities for conviction through the lens of history, it doesn't bestow that conviction through contact or proximity alone. Conviction is made from the materials of your own life and your own choices. Your will, how firmly you place yourself into an immovable and unyielding position, is the measure of your convictions. It comes from within.

Faith is the decision to believe in what you cannot see, and what cannot be proven objectively. That never goes away. Nothing we experience in life, no place we ever visit, will create a shortcut under, over, or around that decision to believe, to trust in God. Faith, at its core, is a decision. The ability to continue making that decision over and over again, under all species of hardship and opposition, is conviction.

Where Jesus walked is nowhere near as important as how Jesus walked, and with whom. The same is true for all of us. Our walk with God might never take us anywhere near a temple because of where God has called us to go. But we are the holiest dwelling places of God on earth—not any of the buildings we've made.

Be a holy place of living faith wherever you are, whatever your circumstances may be. Worship God, no matter what places you can or cannot enter. There is more than one way to access a temple. One way is to enter a place that people invite God to dwell. The other is to become that place. There can be no separation from God where communion never ceases. It is the refuge that is unassailable by others for as long as the person wills it so. The torch within will not go out.

The temple is not special because it has some holy essence that springs forth out of nothing, to passively be absorbed by others. The temple is special because it directs people to Jesus Christ, who is the giver of healing and peace. The temple is just a building. It's Jesus Christ that is the true power behind it all, whose objective is to make you, me, and every person you know the holiest creature you've ever beheld. You are the end goal.

[drconstellation]

First-Order Archangels

Part 1: Maybe You'll Spot An Archangel

GABRIEL: I told you you could ask. However, I am the only First-Order archangel in the room, or, you know, the Universe, so I'm not gonna answer so much. But you feel free to knock yourself out with all the asking.

While I was writing my meta series The Passion Of Jimbriel it became fairly obvious to me there was something more going on between Crowley and Gabriel in S2 than just the numerous pointers to Crowley's pre-fall angel status. They are acting as both parallels and foils to each other, and in places you can swap their characters and get the same story at a different time – and that just opens up a whole new window of context and insight into things. For pre-reading, see this meta from @vidavalor that nicely lists some obvious parallels. It doesn’t mention everything though, so I’m going to discuss parts in more detail.

A foil is a character who contrasts with the protagonist, to highlight or differentiate certain qualities between the characters. Crowley and Gabriel do this because they have come from essentially the same place, and share some story elements, but they still end up in different places.

There is a lengthy original discussion about Crowley's pre-fall angel status here, for pre-reading. It points out the obvious and some not so obvious points that ops have noticed in S2 telling us about Crowley's pre-fall status. Rather than just go through them all again, I'd like to look at some other scenes in S2 that also tell us something about both the similarities and the differences between these two high-powered entities as I go along. In addition, I’ve done a series of posts looking at Gabriel as a shoulder angel (links at the end of post,) because quite often he’s on the demonic left-hand side – which makes sense when you realize he’s a Crowley parallel.

Take the arrival of Gabriel to Whickber St and the bookshop. I’ve already mentioned this parallel story line a couple of times now, but lets look at it again in more detail. It mirrors the opening of S1E1 where the serpent climbs the wall of the Garden of Eden, morphs into a demon and starts to converse with the angel standing on the wall.

Back in the present day, we have a Gabriel, who also tends to present on the sinister-side, walking up to the gate of the present day Garden (the bookshop), which is still guarded by the same angel as it was 6000 years ago, and basically tells Aziraphale he has “fallen.”

How to we know this? It is a reference to the Fall of Man, when Adam and Eve ate the apple the serpent offered them, they suddenly became aware of their nakedness, and hid from God. Gabriel has already upset the love-apple tomato cart on his way to the door of the bookshop, its a sign of the chaos to come.

The fallen angel is not sure of his name, so he prompts with a question…

And asks for shelter under the (reluctant) angel’s wing..

But there is one thing he does know, the one thing that drew him to Aziraphale in the first place:

AZIRAPHALE: Then why did you come to my shop? GABRIEL: I don't know. I just thought I should. You know what it's like when you- when you don't know anything at all, and yet you're totally certain that everything would be better if you were just near one particular person?

Later, Aziraphale realizes that he must give Gabriel a new name to hide him – because fallen angels take on a new name, don’t they? Just like Crowley did.

Then we get a confession:

Which is what Crowley loves about Aziraphale as well - that bit of unpredictability, because you know how humour kind of works? It throws the unexpected at you.

Early on in S2 we find out they are both in trouble: first His Royal Smugness, then Our Hero himself. Our view is turned upside down, with the angel made the bad guy and the demon the good guy who needs to win. But both of them are being hunted by Shax.

Then we get one of the early clues pointing to Crowley's high status as an angel:

SHAX: A miracle of enormous power happened last night. The kind of miracle only the mightiest of Archangels could've performed. CROWLEY: Mm? SHAX: Somewhere very close to your friend's bookshop. Are you telling me you don't know what caused it? CROWLEY: How'd you know I didn't do it?

Shax stalks and threatens both of them, sometimes at the same time:

Another parallel Gabriel and Crowley shared in S2 were associating their identity - no, lets rephrase that - "essence" was one description I've seen - with boxes.

Gabriel arrives with a box that strategically covers his front, and quickly tosses it aside once Aziraphale opens the door to the bookshop. It lies forgotten until Gabriel mentions it a while later. Inside it is the fly from Beelzebub - an object from Hell - so it really needs to be 'invited' across the threshold of the bookshop by Aziraphale to be able to enter. The box initially appears to be empty, Once inside, the fly is free to roam. It has a message written on one side of it.

The same goes for the matchbox. Message included.

ah, wot? you say. Yep.

The matchbox represents Crowley, probably in more ways than one, but I'll just go through the stuff relevant to this meta here.

I notice I'm not the only op to connect the line from the Book of Job on the side of the matchbox with Crowley. The line is from Verse 41, which talks about Leviathan. Among the various shapes it is described to take is a great sea serpent. This deserves its own meta for further discussion, which I plan to do after this one, because yes, Crowley is Leviathan in disguise, but there is much more to it than that. But for now, just know that the matchbox is Crowley.

Once you know this, it makes sense that Muriel finds it - a discarded cardboard box by the front door to Heaven - and deals with a material object that shouldn't by rights exist in Heaven. Then a certain demon finds Muriel lurking outside during the siege on the bookshop at the end of S2E5, and talks them into letting the certain demon be escorted up into Heaven where he doesn't belong, where he's free to roam around - only he needs a guide because he's not sure where to go. Ah Muriel, you poke the Serpent, he's going to poke you back. Good thing he likes you, and it just was a gentle nudge.

Two empty boxes, two cases of memory-loss. That is what S2 seems to suggest to us at first glance.

Gabriel's seems to be the most straight forward in hindsight - find the fly and restore Gabriel to his original "Gabriel-ness." But its more complicated than that. When pushed to remember, his lilac eyes return and another voice can be heard speaking through him of the past. This happens twice, with the second one being part-prophecy. What is really triggering these episodes of channeling? Is it God or someone else speaking through him? We really aren't sure at this point in time.

Then there are questions around Crowley's memory. Did he have his memory wiped when he fell? Was it wiped repeatedly? Was it not wiped at all, and he just pretends he doesn't remember? Neil has even said he is an unreliable narrator about his own Fall, so who are we to trust at this point? Crowley does seem to understand in the end some of the problems Gabriel is having with his absent memories and that brings them to a temporary truce.

Both Aziraphale and Michael inspect their respective "empty" boxes, and neither notices anything obviously amiss. Gabriel's box just seems empty to Aziraphale, he takes no notice of the fly container in there, and archangel Michael tentatively inspects the matchbox brought to them by Muriel but nothing seems out of place there either.

Crowley's change in costume in Heaven during his little infiltration caper with Muriel is also another clue to his past status as an archangel. He has a silvery-gray suit, similar in style to Saraqael's to reinforce the link with them, but at the same time he is also mocking the other archangels and their elite status. We've assumed for a while now that the appearance of the tactical turtleneck signals that Crowley is up to something sneaky or spy related, but I'm starting to think it also relates to a bit of a power play (and Crowley certainly laid the power on for Mr Brown in the pub!) Looking back at S1, Gabriel's not adverse to wearing one either when he needs to be at his worst (or best. Your choice.)

The way one dresses is a way of expressing and reinforcing authority, and its something both Gabriel and Crowley do without much thought. They have been used to being in a position of power and/or independent authority for much of their existence, and I would say that even if Crowley is a few steps down now from where he started, and he's more cautious around those higher ranking than him than he used to be, he still retains that knowledge of what its like to be at the top.

Crowley's usual near all-black costume is a form of power dressing in itself. Whether is was in the past, when black was an expensive color to buy and maintain in clothing, or in the present day, we are still respectful of those in a stylish cut of black.

Gabriel's impeccable tailoring as Supreme Archangel also commands respect. So it's no wonder that one of Gabriel's first requests on regaining his memories was to ask for new clothes! He wasn't just being the vain archangel we believe him to be (although, I think there is still some of that) you also need to consider the elements of the reference characters that went into his shop assistant character: Granville, the belittled shop assistant nephew from the sitcom Open All Hours, who got stuck with all the shop duties from his uncle and felt like life was passing him by, and the silly Monty Python gumbies, that complained of hurting brains - lovable and much loved characters, but not ones you'd really want to be forever. We all want to be loved, but we want to be respected as well.

For all his fierce posturing around Gabriel, there is a brief moment in S2E3 where Crowley backs down and treats Gabriel as an equal - and that is reflected in a change of dress as well. His outside jacket off and sleeve-garters on, Crowley sports a look we haven't seen since S1 when he was home alone in his Mayfair flat. He patiently explains gravity to a curious Gabriel and then describes his "Operation Lovebirds" plan to his puzzled companion. He admits he hasn't "done weather in ages." It's just a quiet, charming moment, watching two ex-archangels get along together.

You're smiling, aren't you?

This meta continues in Part 2: Foils of War, where the differences between Gabriel and Crowley get explored in more detail, and how Aziraphale and Beelzebub act as mirrors to each other a few times as well.

This meta is part of a series on Gabriel: Gabriel as a Shoulder Angel: S1 Study S2 Study Part 1: Ep.1 The Arrival and Ep. 2 The Clue S2 Study Part 2: Ep.3 I Know Where I'm Going and Ep. 5 The Ball S2 Study Part 3: Ep.6 Every Day

First-Order Archangels Part 2: Foils of War

First-Order Archangels Part 3: Seeing Eye to Eye

[snek-eyes]

Good Omens fic recs

Hello all! Wanted to share a few of my longtime faves. These are all pre-s2, might do another with my post-s2 recs? Narrowed it down to 10, since that's the max links tumbl lets you have in a post.

Any Way You Want It

Author: Justkeeptrekkin Words: 27,500 Chapters: 5/5 Rating: Mature Mood: Vacation, soft but introspective After finally getting heaven and hell off their backs (at a cost) Crowley and Aziraphale go on holiday to a cottage in Scotland. Fluffy with fun snappy dialogue, the two really feel like best friends here! Aziraphale struggles with his tendency to go slower than even he wants.

Instructions Not Included

Author: Atalan Words: 68,000 Chapters: 13/13 Rating: Teen Mood: Detective / Gen (There are feelings but it earns that slowburn tag) My "if season 2 isn't good, this is my season 2" fic. Now, I liked season 2, but this is still SO good. After the notpocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley start a detective agency investigating supernatural happenings together. New characters include Raphael (who totally missed the apocalypse haha whoops), and a big spooky dog (whomst I adore). Note that while this fic stands just fine on its own, there is an unfinished sequel that imo doesn't leave off anywhere stressful.

When in Rome

Author: Kedreeva Words: 4,000 Rating: General Mood: The liminal space of nighttime conversations What happens after Aziraphale invites Crowley to oysters: Wings and reading. Tentative and innocent in those early days.

the deft, sweet gesture of your hand

Author: deadgreeks Words: 12,000 Rating: Explicit Mood: Hurt/Comfort, introspection A few years after the failed apocalypse Crowley shows up badly injured at the bookshop. Aziraphale has to help heal Crowley and save them both, and still finds the time to knit his feelings.

Chemistry

Author: Twilightcitysky Words: 122,000 Chapters: 19/19 Rating: Explicit Mood: Y'ever want a side of learning something with your romcom? After realizing they might need their own corporations to heal themselves now that they're not working for heaven and hell, Aziraphale and Crowley turn on all their bodily functions. All of them. What could be a silly premise is played out very satisfyingly, the actual biology of hormones at play here is fascinating. (this is not really at all related but: has anyone else read Peeps by Scott Westerfeld? Because the format reminded me of this in that it did a similar thing of playing straight the concept of "what could cause vampires to be real" that drew on inspiration from real life parasites interspersed between the chapters. I dig it. Anyway!)

Reservations

Author: AnnetheCatDetective Words: 10,000 Chapters: 3/? (Technically unfinished, but leaves off in a satisfying spot) Rating: Not Rated Mood: Meta (Character study as story) “There's some competition for Aziraphale and Crowley's usual table at the Ritz…” A couple of miracles bend reality and, well… you ever been like, “The boys need therapy, but who could possibly give it to them?” I love crossovers where the TV boys meet other versions of themselves, this one is my favorite.

i can't say the words, so i wrote you into my verse

Author: mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday) Words: 5,000 Rating: Teen Mood: Snapshots through history "Crowley has tattoos and every few centuries, Aziraphale discovers a new one." Simple and paints a lovely picture.

By Definition

Author: idiopathicsmile Words: 3,000 Rating: Explicit Mood: Smutty but fond A night together after the Ritz fic where Aziraphale is asexual and Crowley isn’t and how that works for them. The dialogue here is positively delightful.

Bark Dust

Author: rfsmiley Words: 8,000 Rating: Mature (mostly for injuries) Mood: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Historical Crowley is very badly injured in a battle, and Aziraphale has to figure out how to save his life.

Tell Me A Story

Author: brilliant_or_insane Words: 5,000 Rating: Teen Mood: Soft and warm Aziraphale likes telling stories and Crowley likes to listen. But when the demon is dissatisfied by sad endings and can't relate to the happy ones, Aziraphale decides to move them forward by telling a new story. (Of course, Crowley isn't entirely satisfied with the angel's perspective on that one either.)

[sabotage-on-mercury]

i need your love (and something human)

(exerpt, soon on AO3)

for @tonydaddingham happy birthday my sun! 💖 A bit too late for your birthday, but nevertheless with a lot of love!

England, 1239

Aziraphale's already fragile facade crumbled under Crowley's razor-sharp clarity.

"I guess I'm just tired." Aziraphale closed his eyes.

 His voice faded to an airy whisper under the impact of confession.

"I'm tired. And I can't... I'm so tired, Crowley."

There was no denial, Aziraphale pleading, begging, for something, anything that would lift the weight of all these years, millennia of his existence on his shoulders, something that would ease the tightness in his chest and let him breathe again, a miracle that would make him whole again.

For that was the point. He was an angel, by default and by choice. He knew what was expected of him, and he was happy to do it. And yet he seldom felt less angelic than he did these days.

Crowley seemed to instinctively understand what Aziraphale needed, sitting quietly, watching him with the same unreadable expression he had worn for millennia, waiting patiently as Aziraphale fought the little tremors that shook his body and the tears that seethed below the waterline.

He can't do this anymore.

No. He would. He had to. Somehow.

A minute passed, and a few more, and Aziraphale just breathed, one deep breath after the other, until the storm died down.

Crowley was still looking at him intently, a steep wrinkle in his eyebrows, his lips pressed together so tightly it must have been painful.

Aziraphale tried and failed at a reassuring smile that only drew a sigh from Crowley.

"Angel-"

He shook his head defensively. "No, please, it's alright. It's just that the last few centuries have been... well, they-"

"They've sucked. And massively so," Crowley supplied eloquently.

Aziraphale gave Crowley a scolding look. "They have proven to be a challenge."

Crowley raised an inquisitive eyebrow and Aziraphale obeyed with a sigh.

"I mean... I mean, look at these people," he gestured around the guest room of the inn. "They're always fighting each other. And that's just here. All the fighting, all the hate.  Even when there are no wars, they find ways to make each other miserable. And there's hardly anything I can do about it..."

"Well, not to mention that your side has its share in that matter."

"Don't you dare be smug about it!"

"I'm not. Just stating the facts."

Again, Aziraphale could do nothing but sigh deeply. "I guess there's no denying it anyway, is there?" he asked quietly.

"Little crisis of faith, Angel?"

"I still believe She has a plan."

Crowley groaned lowly. "Because all Her plans always work out so well."

"They do," Aziraphale replied with more certainty than he felt. "In the grand scheme of things."

"Well, that's all right then!"Crowley sneered, reaching for his mug.

"No - I mean yes. " Aziraphale's hands began to shake again. "I hope so. I don't wish anyone any harm," he added helplessly, forcing his hands to still around his mug.

Loud voices and shouting broke out, and Aziraphale's eyes wandered to the group of people gathered around the ingel. Fists were raised, punches thrown, two men stared at each other through gritted teeth, noses almost touching, and before Aziraphale could process, a roar of laughter filled the room, breaking the tension. The two opponents stepped back, one clapped the other on the arm, and the next thing he knew, arms were wrapped around each other and the men began to sway to the song of a drunken singer.

Aziraphale watched the group with a furrowed brow. There were certain things about humans he'd never understand. A contradictory set of rules and behaviours he couldn't wrap his mind around.

And yet. In some ways, their lives seemed so much simpler.

Truly remarkable.

Crowley shifted in his chair, the movement immediately catching Aziraphale's attention and his eyes snapping back to the demon leaning on the table, head tilted and a subtle grin on his lips, making Aziraphale already dread his next question.

"But that's not everything, right?"

"I-"

"Whatever's bothering you. It's not just this ghastly century. Something... personal."

Heat crept up his cheeks and Aziraphale hoped Crowley would mistake it for the play of candlelight.

There was only one proper answer to that question. But the night was dark and he was so tired, the ale was quaffable, Crowley was finally here again, and in the end it wouldn't matter anyway, so he settled for the truth. Or at least the closest he could get to the truth without making a fool of himself.

"I just thought, as tragic as their lives are, humanity has this... potential," Aziraphale let the word slip over his lips like something delicate.

"How mean?"

Aziraphale took a measured sip from the mug.

"All these rules they live by, they make them up themselves. Not that they're always good rules, mind you. But people have the potential to change them all the time. Haven't we seen that ever since we've been here? Societies come and go, countries rise and fall, everything changes all the time. They can decide what they want to do, where they want to live, who they want to- There are far fewer restrictions than-" He interrupted himself. He couldn't even tell if the heat on his cheeks was from the ale or his wicked thoughts.

Crowley's lips twitched. "Do I smell jealousy, Angel?"

"No! No, definitely not." Aziraphale nearly drowned the rest of his ale in a doomed attempt to shut himself up.

"I'm just saying that being an angel comes with certain duties and responsibilities that can't just be thrown overboard."

Crowley leaned across the table and Aziraphale instinctively did the same. White fangs flashed, a smirk danced on his lips and Crowley lowered his voice to a whisper. "That definitely sounds like envy. How entirely... sinful."

"I'm not jealous!" exclaimed Aziraphale, straightening up again. "Just admiring the potential."

He reached for his mug, only to find it empty. Why was his cup empty already?

His fingers began to fiddle with his robe again, straining the scuffed fabric even more.

Crowley was unperturbed, in fact the look behind those dark glasses seemed to burn even more ferociously. "And what would you do with that potential?" he asked with a dangerous lightness.

The sounds in the tavern faded, only the crackling of the fire and the wailing of the wind remained.

"I think..." Aziraphale cleared his throat. "I've never really thought about it. It's neither appropriate for an angel, nor in terms of my decision, so..."

"Hmm." Crowley's drawled as he lowered his head, and for the first time that evening Aziraphale caught a glimpse of his serpentine eyes over the rim of his glasses, glowing in their golden grandeur, and Aziraphale had to choke back a gasp.

"And what if... what if you weren't an angel?"

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes together a few times, trying to make sense of the words. "But I am an angel."

"Yes, obviously. That's why I said what if."

Clammy fingers claw into the white linen.  "I don't think I understand what you're suggesting."

"Just humour me for a second," Crowley's voice was low and calm, the rasp so pleasing to Aziraphale's ears, a warm invitation that Aziraphale was only too happy to follow. "Forget heaven, forget hell. Miracles and blessings and all the rest of it. Just for now, pretend that it doesn't exist."

Worn leather shoes scraped across the uneven floor.

"Well, technically I'm on duty. The assignment -"

"- can wait until tomorrow."

"I don't think that's a very good idea. I can't just ignore - what if... someone is looking for us?"

"Nah. Not today."

"How can you be so sure?"

Crowley leaned in towards Aziraphale, his glasses sitting so low on his nose that his serpentine eyes fully glistened in the candlelight. "Just trust me, Aziraphale."

It was a temptation to capture him in a moment of weakness, Aziraphale was sure. But more than that, it was a question, a plea. Aziraphale felt any resistance he might have had crumble away under Crowley's unguarded gaze. There was really no logical reason to justify his trust, other than that he wanted to. And so Aziraphale nodded.

He cleared his throat. "So what exactly are you proposing?"

"The question is, if only for tonight, you weren't an angel." Crowley hesitated for a moment. "And if I weren't a demon. What would you do?"

"How should I know..."

Crowley smiled softly. "Use your imagination, Aziraphale."

"So..." Aziraphale tried to keep his foolish heart from beating out of his chest, "I could be a human?"

"Well, not very imaginative, but if that's your thing, sure." Crowley swung a graceful hand through the air. "Whatever tickles your fancy."

Aziraphale paused for a moment, his mind wandering.  "I don't think I know how to be human," he finally said.

"You have passed as one quite successfully for over 5000 years!" quipped Crowley with undeniable bemusement over the brim of his jug.

"That's not entirely true. I was just trying to avoid being recognised as an angel." And even that hadn't always been so successful.

Crowley washed Aziraphale's objection away with another wave of his hand. "Same difference." He crossed his arms on the table and leaned closer. "It's just being yourself, minus the miracles."

Aziraphale's eyebrows lifted. "Well, that definitely sounds too simple."

"Don't think about it too hard. This isn't a challenge for you to pass. Just having a bit of fun, and, hell, your Boss knows you need some."

"You know as well as I do that angels, and perhaps even demons, can't just go around having fun as they please."

"Yeah, that's why I said we just pretend for tonight, right?" Crowley arched an eyebrow over his glasses. "As if I didn't know your angelic duties always have to come first, don't they?" he muttered under his breath.

"Quite right," Aziraphale huffed over the uncomfortable knot in his stomach. "I shouldn't let personal feelings interfere with my duties."

"Then don't," Crowley shrugged, his shoulders tightening noticeably. "Just seemed like there were no obligations for you tonight, so why not give yourself a day off, hm?"

"That much is true, but tomorrow-"

"Tomorrow is tomorrow. You can go on being all prim and holy-"

"You mean like it never happened." Oh, that idea tasted bitter in his mouth.

"Sure, whatever. It's just a game." Crowley leaned back in his chair, the glasses obscuring the view of his eyes again, and a tense pull at his mouth. "It doesn't mean anything."

The rough edge of Crowley's voice was a dagger in Aziraphale's chest, cutting off whatever sharp retort he was about to make.

"Indeed it doesn't," Aziraphale confirmed half-heartedly, his fingers twitching and twisting with the lie.

It can't mean anything. That's the whole point. It was the only way this could work.

Oh, this was going to hurt so much. Why did he do this to himself? Surrendering to the idea that he could get a taste of the freedom he longed for, knowing that it wouldn't last forever? Not even for the next day?

Crowley seemed to sense his unease and shifted in his chair. "You don't have to if you don't want it,” he spat. “Was just an idea.”

"I want to." Aziraphale cursed as his tongue outpaced his brain. He was a victim of his own desires, the anticipation tickling under his skin, the sheer desire eating him alive, his common sense worn down by the grindstone of misery and loneliness of the past centuries.

It couldn't last, but did it really matter? Wasn't one night of pretending to be someone else, of feeling alive, better than none at all?

"It's just a game." He was repulsed by the distanced, cold ring his voice left in his own ears.

"Just a game," Crowley repeated as matter-of-factly, and Aziraphale knew that they were already in the middle of the play. "All right. So tell me. What human thing would you like to try out?"

Aziraphale swallowed. His mind was filled with everything he had ever dreamed of, every desire that should remain buried deep in his mind. Was this what potential felt like? How to choose the right one from all these possibilities?

As if he didn't already know.

No. Some things should remain out of reach, even if he were human. If they were human. Who knew if his most secret wishes would even be answered? There were things too precious, too fragile, to be risked just for the sake of a silly little game.

"I think I'd like to try what they have," he replied evasively, gesturing to the group of people sitting by the fire.

"Ale?"

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "No. Although another round wouldn't hurt." He gestured at their two empty mugs.

"Message received. What is it then?"

Aziraphale studied the group intently, desperately searching for an answer as close to the truth as he dared to say. "Connection," he said after a while. "They don't know each other and yet - they seem quite happy, don't you think? They don't seem lone-. They seem to enjoy each other's company."

Crowley's lips parted in a smile, wide and soft, lacking the usual hint of a smirk he hid behind, a smile Aziraphale hadn't seen in a very long time, and for a moment he forgot to breathe.

"Very well then." Crowley relaxed in his chair.  "Who are you?"

Aziraphale frowned in confusion. "You know - I'm Aziraphale?"

Crowley held out his hand across the table. "Crowley. My pleasure."

Aziraphale paused before leaning across the table. "And what do I do now?"

"You tell me."

This was completely unhelpful. Aziraphale stifled a snort. Crowley stood up with a wink behind his glasses and swaggered over to the bar, offering Aziraphale a forbidden view of his backside. Why couldn't he just stop entertaining these crude thoughts?

Why else would he be here, if he was human? His eyes darted around the room as he tried to let the warmth of the fire and the slight dizziness from a few ales ease the tension in his body.

Crowley stepped back into their little corner and placed two fresh mugs on the table, which Aziraphale accepted with a grateful smile.

"I'm meeting a friend," he blurted out, blushing immediately at his sudden display of affection.

"A friend, ah." Crowley dropped into the chair, one arm across the armrest, fingers tipping the mug. "A special friend of yours?"

Aziraphale nearly choked on his ale. What was that supposed to mean? He studied Crowley's face, but even in its relaxed and softened state, his features remained an unreadable mystery to Aziraphale.

His instinct was to deny the truth at once. But he didn't need to, not today, when the truth didn't matter anyway.

"Yes," Aziraphale said quietly, and the warmth in his cheeks spread even further. "He's very dear to me." What a thrilling sensation it was to say those words aloud. He almost burst out into a giddy laughter. What an absolutely ridiculous game.

Crowley tilted his head, a familiar mischievous grin on his lips. "Something more than a friend?"

The trace of a laughter died in his throat and Aziraphale's eyes widened. Was that -? Did he really -? What was -?

"N-no," he choked out. "That's -. No."

"What a pity." Crowley lifted his mug and took a long sip of his drink.

Holy s-. Could it actually be... No, that stood not in the prospect of belief. Crowley wouldn't really be interested in him the way he was... or would he?

Maybe he is not, a voice in Aziraphale's head supplied helpfully. But this was a different Crowley, a stranger version, someone who seemed willing to play along with this game.

And why shouldn't that be enough?

Aziraphale's heart thumped up to his throat, his fingers trembling as he longed for the mug in a pathetic imitation of human self-confidence. He took a sip, licking his lower lip as he caught Crowley's gaze again.

"But he could be. Tonight."

Crowley stared at him, his mouth slightly agape before he cleared his throat, which didn't quite remove the roughness in his voice. "Then your friend must be a very lucky bastard."

"You think so?"

"Nah, don't play modest. You must know what you look like with your hair and that smile and - ngk. Forget it."

Did he really know? Aziraphale felt his blood pulsing feverishly in his veins, the rough but sincere sounding words fogging his mind. 

Crowley looked at him expectantly, his raised eyebrow demanding a response, but there was a look behind the glasses that was all too familiar to Aziraphale. Hope laced with desperation. 

Was this just an act? Or was it always there?

Does it matter?

Aziraphale folded his hands on the table and raised his chin.

"Do you really think I'm so simple that a single compliment is enough to make me fall in love with a stranger?"

A flash of disbelief flashed across Crowley's face before he found his playful grin.

"No, of course not. You would never fall for charm alone."

"Not that you have been very charming so far, for that matter."

"That's fair. But I have a feeling you don't want me to be. You wouldn’t want something as boring as that, would you?"

Aziraphale drew a shaky breath. How could Crowley know him so well? "I suppose you have all night to find out.”

"It will be my pleasure." Crowley shifted on his chair again. “I just don't want to keep you from your date with your friend."

"Lucky for me, he's already sitting here."

[killedpink]

heavily inspired by your latest work (which was so good by the way you really shine in the way you write, truly) i wanna hear about what you think ab high sex with the guys (if you don’t wanna do everyone, preferably chan minho and hyunjin) or just generally smoking together lmao

it’s amazing that you’re such a good writer and that you write about this i’ve been thinking ab it forever and i feel so lucky to have found you hehe!

you're too kind omg thank you so much for your sweet words 🩷 i did get a bit lazy so there’s only chan, minho and hyunjin featured but regardless, i hope you enjoy these drabbles!

🏷️ contains: high sex, unestablished relationships, unprotected sex, cum consumption, marking, creampie, oral sex, spit kink, shotgunning, penetrative sex, overstimulation, dacryphilia, body worship, hair pulling.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍:

it wasn't often that he smoked — he usually tried relieving stress in alternate ways that would actually benefit his health. but sometimes, all he needed was to let go of everything and relax, and that typically only happened when chan was high out of his mind. most of the time, when he was high, he'd be so clingy and touchy; as if the smoke inside your lungs was magnetic, and every touch and breath drew him nearer to you.

chan was warm all over, and when he pulls you so adoringly close it will feel as if he was trying to bury you into his heart; still trying to shield you from the world even when his eyes were bloodshot and he was giggling all over your neck, his plump lips dutifully following the curve of your throat. the smoke around the room just made everything fuzzier, as if you were in a dream: one where no sorrow could find the both of you. his hands, veiny and soiled with hard work, ghosted over your bare skin, tracing your body so attentively that you overflow into his lap, resting your head in the crook of his neck and listening to the intimately close vibrations of his chest from where he laughed.

his velvety smooth laugh, and even more so his velvety lips kissed your head, and even without his mouth on yours, you could taste his lips on yours. airy, sweet and warm.

the sex didn't come from a lustrous place, but instead because he was craving so much intimacy that he needed to be inside of you. this would be his undoing. the outrageously sentimental values would crumble down similarly to how his refusal to smoke did, and the first sign of this would be the full bodied sob that tears from his throat, kissed red and his voice raw from smoking — although he still carried that melodic cadence he so often used to charm people with.

chan's body would already be so aware of bliss that it wouldn't take long for him to reach his orgasm, especially from the way you suffocated his cock inside of you. his weightless laughs were replaced by shaky, desperate groans, burying his head into your chest and wrapping his arms so tightly around your waist it's a miracle you can even breathe. it feels like discovering something they haven't named yet — something that makes your heart grow roots in your body but even that doesn't stop it from soaring in your chest, fluttering against your ribcage as chan's hands cradle both sides of your body like an unspoken prayer; secretive and tender-hearted and so gingerly that you're sure he's convinced you will break.

you quickly realised that chan will tremble from your touch: drag your fingers down his stomach and he'll close his eyes and his grip on you will tighten — he might even whimper into your skin, his head too dazed to fight any reaction off for the sake salvaging of his ego. chan's hands relentlessly explored your flesh, kissing your skin with hungering teeth and carnally warm tongue. when you finally envelop him with your cunt, he cries with a bruised throat, overextended from the previous activities.

it doesn’t take much for either of you to orgasm; you’re sensitive and already so relaxed that it’s easy to become fully under the influence of the smoke, hovering around the both of you in the air. chan always found a way to entwine your bodies together — be it with your legs wrapped around his waist as he sat you on his lap, or with his pelvis connecting with your ass as you watched his bottom lip wobble in the mirror facing you, chan had an endearing little habit of knotting your limbs together and clutching you so tightly to his middle that it always shocks you when you separate.

when chan does reach his orgasm, he lets his head tip backwards as his fluffy hair brushes against the nape of his neck, his back arching to further push his relentless hips into your sex. he stays there and moans, his noises becoming drawn out and more guttural — truly coming from the bottom of his stomach and deep within his chest, and his cock twitches inside of you, his body perfectly curved as if he sprouted wings and was preparing to flutter. chan, ever the gentleman, will always ask where you want him. inside? on your stomach? in your mouth? you say it, and he’ll likely be fast enough to grant you your wish — however he does have a preference, and that’s inside of you.

without question, chan adores seeing his cock gain a milky white ring around his hilt from where he fucked through his orgasm into you. he loves seeing your slit drool his cum out of you, thick and in slow, sporadic moments that he’ll always gather on the pads of his fingers and push right back into you, or sample the flavour. there’s a slow tenderness to his actions once he orgasms, as if his body is savouring every movement; even if he’s full of energy, he grows lazy and will only ask you to hold him in your arms. chan asks you to touch him with your soft hands — he is worn and bruised and tired, and your touch never fails to soothe him and make him feel whole again. he settles into the curves of your body and whispers praises and thank you’s against your skin, overflowing with adoration and an exceptional amount of fondness: one that could not be replicated by anyone — not even chan. in fact, his fleeting kisses and small whispers hover between being a memory and a dream, so intriguing and ethereal that you don’t even attempt to label these moments of vulnerability.

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐎:

minho is very much a chainsmoker: once he rolls a few, it snowballs into muscle memory until he's smoked his entire stash and a fuzzy feeling from the smoke is quickly replaced by a deep, burning shame. despite being a bit introverted, he prefers having someone with him to smoke to remind him when enough is enough — or if he does end up smoking it all at once, at least someone else was with him so he doesn't feel as guilty.

when he does smoke, minho's senses and feelings are extremely heightened. if he starts to laugh, he won't be able to stop, and if he feels cold (even in august) he'll start shivering as if he's genuinely stuck in a freezer. so, when he gets aroused by something, it's impossibly difficult for him to calm down. it's better he just fucks it out of his system, otherwise he'll still be horny and needy even after his high has subsided. his lips are first; all over your neck and your sternum and your shoulders, kissing the smoke onto your skin. his hands are a quick second, groping at the flesh of your ass and truly appreciating your body, a faithful devotee. minho's plump lips tasted of ashes — and yet, he insists. softly, and tastefully. but, he insists, and he drinks up the flavour of your mouth as if it doesn't taste exactly same as his.

minho's hands started to undress you, each movement flicking hazy smoke away from the both of you, quickly accepting the fact that you're going to be bruised and caressed and so viciously loved that it will take time to undo minho from your blood. he gets everywhere — minho makes sure to explore every part of you; although his favourite is undoubtedly your ass. minho's eyes will almost always glisten in the light, catching on his iris which gave the effect that they were glowing. he undresses you and himself so quickly that you don't even recall being clothed, his eager hands slipping under your clothes and metaphorically tearing them from your body, leaving your skin bare and his eyes hungrily soaking up the sight of you before him.

if you catch him at a time like this: high, and so undeniably aroused that it almost hurts, you'll find that minho doesn't do well with foreplay at these times. usually, he could gladly spend hours warming you up for his cock, or simply savouring the taste of your arousal on his tongue. but, not when he's like this — not when his cock is aching and his mind is swirling and the smoke around him does nothing to help clear his mind. instead, minho's pink tongue slips inside of your sex, ensuring you're wet enough, and you usually are without his warm spit thickly coating your slit.

all of minho's pride shatters the moment his cockhead enters you, his mouth leaving teeth marks on every inch of you that he loves, trying to muffle his relieved whimpers as he feels your sex envelop him. he's shameless, in every sense of the word. he's erratic, never in one place for too long, instead opting to drift around your body not unlike the smoke still pooling in the atmosphere. however, there is one thing that stays consistent: his touch, all over your body and invading your senses, so enthralled by you that he's reluctant to part for even a second, pushing his hips deeper into your sex because he's so desperate to feel all of you that it aches, and minho suffers with that ache so poetically that you're enchanted by his beauty.

usually, minho can act aloof and hard to read when he wants to. but, when he's high, and the smoke in his lungs make him feel as if he's floating, he wears his heart on his — non existent — sleeve, so easily readable in everything he does. you can tell he's enjoying himself by the apple of his cheeks, and the scrunching of his nose as he loses himself just that little bit more inside of you, and by the way his thighs tremble and his chest stutters with his panicked moans, aware he's so close that he can almost taste it. and it does taste divine; that's why he always chases his high, desperate for the feeling to last longer.

when he's high, he doesn't typically have a lot of energy, and will instead choose to fall at a comfortable rhythm. he still insists he's on top of you, refusing to give up his dominance. despite his pace, he still possesses that brutality to his thrusts, forcing his length to slam into you so viciously that it feels as if he's hollowing you out with each vehement movement into your sex, ensuring he's as deep inside of you as possible. but, even then, it's never enough for him. he's loud, and unapologetically so — rake your fingernails up his skin so harshly that his skin turns red, and minho will reward you with such a delectable groan, the sound pours out of his mouth like he's hurling smoke out of his chest.

honestly, it doesn't take much for minho to orgasm, and when he does he almost always insists he smears some on your body somewhere. he adores seeing your bare skin painted in his cum, wherever you choose, he's happy with it — although, he is also a big fan of filling your cunt with his cum and watching it spill out of you, craving the sight of seeing you full with his orgasm. minho always manages to moan during those spaces between seconds, filling every interval with a satisfied whine, in-between his panicked gasps of air. he's kind enough to continue fucking you, however, more than happy if he gets your consent for another round. as long as there's some part of his gut that is still sizzling for an orgasm, he's more than willing to fuck you over and over, or to clean your sex of the many orgasms between the both of you. just be careful that his devotion won't turn into something vicious.

𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍:

his smoking habits are not like the others in the slightest. hyunjin usually only smokes for two reasons. one: he's happy, he's had a good day, and he wants to keep the buzz going by smoking. two: for inspiration when he's painting or drawing. for him, smoking and being high opens up an entirely new world of seeing things — what he once thought was boring and dreary, he now thinks is so profound that he just can't resist the urge to replicate its beauty in his own unique way; and this often assists him in expanding his variety of artworks and in looking at things from a different angle.

hyunjin, on both of these occasions, will see smoking as something poetic and romantic — ever the performer. it's usually he who has the idea to smoke, and it's he who will annoy you until you say yes (if you originally turn him down, that is), and it's almost always he who will initiate something intimate with you. perhaps this isn't a good thing, as when hyunjin sees something as poetic, he can be temporarily maddened by it, craving it and becoming so obsessed with whatever it is that he's admiring that he does have the ability to fixate on it. more often than not, this idea or image is usually somehow related to you.

it's likely a very intimate thing to smoke with hyunjin. he can be a person who enjoys the charm in solidarity — so being offered to join him while he smokes is a very honourable thing. similarly, hyunjin is also one to enjoy shotgunning. seeing you adopt his smoke filled exhale is even more intoxicating than the smoke itself; he's so charmed by it that he urges you to let him do it again, holding you by the hips and practically begging you to put your lips to his once more, so eager to see you ravage his breath. he'll be equally as infatuated, if not more, if you let him inhale your exhale, feeling like liquid in his smoke-raw mouth, his eyes half lidded and his pupils blown wide.

typically, hyunjin loves holding your joint for you: he thinks it's so noble and simultaneously romantic, and when this is paired with a conversation about some morbid theory about whatever was circulating your tongues that particular session, an aroused feeling is soon to announce itself to hyunjin. he doesn't intend to be needy like this whenever you smoke, but to him, everything is going good — he has his favourite person, with his favourite activity, usually at night and his day was going swimmingly prior to smoking and kissing each other senseless, so why not make it even better? regardless, hyunjin gets embarrassed for a few minutes and will try to conceal his hardening cock in his clothes and will refuse to look at your lips, eyes, chest, waist — well, all of you, really.

this isn't hard to notice; especially when this has happened a handful of times, you get used to his tells even if they're physical instead of verbal. hyunjin is never a mediocre lover: he drinks you up in great detail and desperately savours you on his tongue, his soft eyes always on your figure to read what your body tells him through the hushed whispers of movement. he is soft all over, tender and loving and constantly thinking of how to better serve you — hyunjin often obsesses over outdoing himself each time you're intimate, ever the perfectionist. it drives him almost wild to see you so dizzy with pleasure that your eyes well up with tears, sobbing and shaking into his chest all because of him.

hyunjin will coo at you and stroke your cheeks and plant wet, soft kisses on your lips and neck to soothe you, all the while his steady palms and long fingers clutch onto your hips as he guides you up and down the length of his cock with an insatiable thirst to feel more of you. the juxtaposition is a reflection of both sides of hyunjin: one side, that wants to desecrate you and drown in you. and the other side, that wants to treat you as the angel he sees you as, just begging to decipher his love for you and shower you with it. regardless, his behaviour makes your mind fuzzy and your voice ache each time he forces his name into your smoke raw mouth.

each kiss he bestows upon you is unceasing and consuming, each press of his lips to your body growing increasingly loving and desperate for his release, the adoration in his mouth gaining an edge of aggression. hyunjin's mind is potentially too far gone to do anything else but bounce you on his cock and watch you unravel with him, in a crazed madness that's almost poetic, in a way. when your fingers wind in his soft, long hair and pull and claw and dig your nails into the crown of his head, hyunjin's eyes will roll back and his grip on your hips will tighten like that of a rope's knot. his whimper will turn over into a full bodied moan, using every ounce of body strength he needed to keep you flush against his length, twitching and aching and beginning to empty.

the feeling of hyunjin blurring into you is too intoxicating to ignore — you feel his love overflowing and enveloping you, your lips pressing against his own, desperate to love him with the same eloquence he did you. his thighs shake and his chest trembles, gasping as he fills you with his warming, thick cum, your own sex unconsciously milking his cock. he held you into his chest; reluctant to let go, your heads buried in each other's necks and shoulders and automatically winding around each other, desperate to get just that inch closer to one another, hearts fluttering and eyes blurring with fuzzy stars in your visions. you're haunted by each other — everywhere you go, anything you think of, hyunjin's not too far behind, and neither are you for he.

[shippingmyworld]

Hello! Yet another headcanon ask, cause I've been loving the headcanons around Danny and Sam and what Danny consciously or unconsciously seeks out of a relationship and I crave m o r e.

What are your headcanons around what Manny wants or needs out a relationship? Also also, what would you say drew Manny to Danny the most and vise versa?

The tl;dr is that Manny fell first but Danny fell harder lol

I think that what Manny looks for in a relationship is someone that can keep up with him, someone that won't judge him for the decisions he makes, and someone that will stick by his side no matter what. That's why he 'dated' Frida for a whole year when they were high schoolers because their friendship technically fit the bill; it was just missing the romantic attraction part.

Growing up, Manny got a lot of love from the people around him. His mother, father, and grandpapi all showered him in it. Even when emotions run high and they fought with each other, things were usually resolved quickly and ended up with both sides explaining themselves. This also makes me believe that Manny developed a strong belief that it's healthy to get into arguments with the people you love because it shows you care enough to be open about your feelings with them.

However, on the flip side of that, I also headcanon that Manny will realize near the end of high school that his plan for the future doesn't necessarily match the vision his family has for him. It starts innocent enough, with Rodolfo making his usual comment about Manny being a full-time superhero in the future and Grandpapi auguring that Manny should be a full-time supervillain instead. This is nothing new, they have this argument all the time. But then something new gets added to the mix; Rodolfo throws a new hypothetical at Grandpapi, saying that once Manny gets married and has children, being a supervillain would just put his hypothetical family in danger. Grandpapi shoots back and says that villainy would pay much better, after all, "How do you think I was able to afford to build this entire house on top of an apartment complex???"

Manny just continues eating breakfast as usual, but this time the fight nags at the back of his mind. They both expect him to chose one side or the other eventually, but in all honesty, he doesn't want to. He doesn't feel torn up about it, like the original El Tigre did. In fact, he's extremely happy where he is, being able to indulge in whichever side of the hero/villain coin when he wants. But as time goes on and the argument between his dad and grandpapi repeats, he starts to feel more and more pressure to live up to their expectations. (Plus at this point in time I believe he's nearly graduated high school and already dated and broken up with Zoe/Black Cuervo and come to the realization that he's bisexual).

Any time that Manny tries to bring up the 'I don't want to chose.' argument with his dad and grandpapi, they would both wave off Manny's choice, saying that one day he'll have to pick like they did and being outright dismissive (not intentionally though, because the concept of it just still so foreign to them they can't wrap their heads around being both a hero and a villain) . This starts to reasonably frustrate Manny, since no matter how many times he explains himself, they won't see his side of the argument. It also starts to make Manny's anxiety simmer (which he inherited from his mother), because they're his family. They've always been by his side and even when they didn't agree, it never took long for them to talk things out. Why was it taking so long this time for them to understand him?

It would be around this time, that the OG Nicktoons Unite Gang would drop by Miracle City for the first time. Cross-Dimensional Villain of the week would be wreaking havoc in the city, so Manny and the Unite gang team up to take care of them. During the team up, I believe that Manny would instantly be drawn to Danny. Not in a romantic sense, but kinda in the "Holy shit he's so fucking cool, I have to be his friend at ALL COSTS." sense.

It's mostly in part because Danny reminds Manny so much of himself, yet seems so confident. They don't get much time to talk, but Manny's able to pick up that Danny's in a very similar situation; stuck between being a part of two conflicting worlds and constantly struggling to find balance between them. They actually click pretty much instantly with their banter during the brief team-up. So much so that it feels like they've known each other for years (Danny's sassy wit matches Manny's bravado and confidence in a playful way). That's why when the villain is subdued and everyone leaves, Manny doesn't feel the same sort of satisfaction he does when he takes down El Oso or The Mustache Mafia. In fact, he just let four super cool guys walk through a portal without any sort of hope or grantee he'd ever see them again.

There aren't a whole lot of superhero kids in Miracle City. The few that are around, Manny wouldn't really count as anything more than an acquaintance because there's always a disconnect between them (look at the Rising Son, who instantly turns on Manny the second that it's revealed Manny does a little bit of villainy). He's got a better rapport with the villains his age. Heck he even secretly hangs out with Django and a few others on occasion as civilians. However the villains give him even more flack than his grandpapi whenever he he starts leaning towards heroism, so he usually leaves their hangouts not feeling socially satisfied. Thankfully tho there seems to be a semi-regular occurrence of dimensional hopping supervillains - about once every two months - so Manny gets to see the Unite gang a handful of more times (the second time he sees them he instantly latches onto Timmy's arm and begs to get his contact information; he's much more suave about it by the time he gets around to asking everyone else, he just panicked upon noticing the pink hat and assumed they'd all leave as soon as the villain was caught.)

Near graduation when his anxiety is at it's peak, Manny will get a message from Jimmy, asking if Manny would be interested in joining the team more permanently. he instantly jumps at the opportunity (and then from there it's basically the plot of Desde el Principio lol).

Like I mentioned, I imagine that Manny didn't see Danny as anything more than a friend at first. Even though he personally acknowledged that Danny was handsome, Manny ignored that because he REALLY wanted to be friends with Danny. He constantly was engaging Danny in conversation (both irl and texting, once Manny officially joined the team). But since Manny doesn't really read social cues like everyone else, he didn't pick up that Danny was uncomfortable about discussing personal ghost stuff, so of course Manny continued to ask questions about it. It was all innocent of course (How does your green lazer thing work? How long can you stay invisible? Have you met any cool dead people?), and while the rest of the gang kinda tensed up when Manny started asking these questions (Danny included) it was surprisingly therapeutic for Danny to talk about this stuff.

Manny accepted all of Danny's answers at face value. If Danny lied about something and said, "I don't know." Manny would offer up his own suggestion (usually wrong) about how Danny's powers might work. Seeing how nonchalant Manny was about this stuff (Danny originally though that Manny might be weirded or freaked out) actually would make Danny lower his guard and start to be truthful about his halfa life. It's part of the reason why he fell for Manny in the first place, just because it became so easy to be around him. If he needed someone to talk to, something to be a nonsense-filter for the thoughts in his head, he knew Manny would never judge him for anything he might say. If he was having a really bad day and said he just wanted to sit around silently, Manny would hold him quietly until he felt better (or fell asleep).

[ochrearia]

Only Colder

I don't feel all that good. Again. This will happen often I think when it is cold. Or maybe I'm just stressed. But my body hurts. It's not suffering in cold like YS is but. Something to be said here too I guess, about some things written. But. I don't know. Tired. And I don't have motivation to be a person or. Ask.

BFs in this one-shot: Yourself (YS)

Disappearing without a trace would still be easy. It would. YS knew mentally he wouldn’t be able to do it because his angelic instincts would kick in and actually stop him from choosing to stay gone for too long. He had responsibilities now. It was just a miracle that every winter before this he’d managed to avoid doing anything stupid.

But that was where the miracle ended. YS was no stranger to having shitty winters, because they were always shitty for a cold-blooded being like him. And now there were firsts he had to accept. First winter without his wings to help him attempt to keep warm.

First winter without her.

YS was never really one for Christmas. Or any holidays, really. Halloween was okay, but he didn’t partake in it this year anyway. The holidays in these last two months were off the table though. Drowned out by the constant that was the cloud of negativity accompanying the cold.

It was cold. Really cold. He didn’t like being cold.

But he couldn’t sit here and lie, saying he didn’t think about disappearing in a snowstorm in the middle of the night every once and a while. A thought that got more common when the months of snow actually came around. But now it was ten times worse with what happened between last year and now. Scary how things could change so fast.

YS was cold.

He was shivering under his blankets. He hadn’t realized how much having his wings actually helped during these months in his constant battle against the cold. Now they were gone, and he was realizing the absence of the extra built-in layer was hitting him hard. And he was woefully unprepared for how sharp the cold’s bite was on his scars. Scars that YS never gave a shit about letting properly heal to begin with, so it was definitely his fault they were still raw.

The warmies plushie that Cyber had given him was currently being squeezed to death in his arms. Grasping to whatever tiny source of heat he could, but it was fading fast and not sticking. It was cold. How was he supposed to even attempt to sleep with this shit going on? Cold days he could at least somehow salvage if he was lucky, but cold nights? He might as well get in the grave himself and die. This apartment didn’t have the greatest heating system, it didn’t reach very high temperatures. Nothing warm enough to help.

Her red glow on his nightstand drew his attention. If only he could stop shivering.

“I’m not… I’m not doing it.” YS mumbled in response to her light. “I can’t. I can’t do that. I can’t pull anyone away from their own lives for this stupid shit. Majority don’t even know and I don’t want to have to explain it all.”

Her glowing flickered in frustration.

“It’s the holidays, my dear.” YS let slip- god, he hadn’t said that in so long. He was getting too used to her being like that, as if that should be considered normal. “I won’t pull them away from the people they love during a season like that. I was the one who removed my wings. It’s my problem to fix. Or experience the consequences of.”

He sighed, turning his eyes to the dark ceiling like he’s done so many times before. It never got any easier. Despite it all, sometimes it really just ended up not being worth it. But every time YS had that thought cross his mind, it was immediately drowned by incredible guilt, because how could he ever think that when he had so many people in his life to care about now?

People he was sparing from this. It was some hour of night, the sun had been gone for at least a few hours. They should all be asleep by now, or at least trying. Or will be soon. Didn’t matter, YS wasn’t going to derail that. He wasn’t going to become a burden because he couldn’t handle a little bit of cold.

She was getting even more worried.

“I can’t.” YS repeated with a shake of his head. Even his body was starting to tense to the point of pain, because he was stressed about being so damn cold. But that still wasn’t a good enough reason to be a bother. “I’ve lived through every winter before. I’ll do it again.”

Apparently he had something to prove. There was no benefit to suffering alone, but… he was scared. Paralyzed by his own mind. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t reach out, so afraid of being a bother, or inconveniencing anyone because he needed something. He couldn’t. Couldn’t ask. Couldn’t need. Some things just weren’t allowed.

Like how his angelic instincts would keep him from doing anything stupid and permanent, there was something else in his body that kept him from asking for help.

YS could daydream about what would happen if he did, though. Nice things that he could only hope for. Biff and Beef wouldn’t let go of him until he had to actually pry them off of him, that was for sure. Boyf would probably do that too. Beefer he knew had some sort of water power that involved hot water, YS wondered if he could turn his apartment into a sauna. Or just… lie on top of him in dino form and squish him in warmth- though Beefer may be cold-blooded too. Huh. He’d never asked…

Peacock would indulge him. Maybe pull some silly, sentimental shit and envelop him in his own wings. That would be a nice thought. Bee would probably enable the snuggles too, because most of them were similar in that regard at least. Physically affectionate. Blue as well. Blue… confused him. YS still didn’t understand how someone could just not know they were an angel. Had he just never seen his own wings? Did angels in Blue’s world not have to deal with this cold shit? That would be nice.

Most of them were physically affectionate. But not all of them, probably. YS wasn’t sure. Cyber seemed partial to him, clinging like no tomorrow, but seemed stand-offish with everyone else. BJ he had no real clue about. He was a bird, maybe? And also apparently not really alive? That guy was also confusing. He’d effectively perched on YS a few times but that was all. Not really too much to go off on.

Bash… YS frowned. Bash wasn’t like that for people he didn’t consider close. There were only a few that Bash was close to and he was very much not one of them. He couldn’t force that and wouldn’t. Suppose it sucked to even have a list of his people he wouldn’t ask even if he could. But… He couldn’t rely on everyone, surely. And he didn’t want to burden anyone to begin with. So really, he wouldn’t ask anyone. Can’t.

Hah. Brooke wouldn’t even consider it. Which, in all honesty, maybe he deserved that anyway. YS had hurt him first. Their first meeting was the most disastrous thing possible. He hated existing sometimes, remembering that him being alive managed to actually hurt someone else.

But that was the cold talking, wasn’t it?

Sure. Yeah. The cold.

YS was on his own. That was okay. He hadn’t earned any company anyway. The only company was the cold, and he was trying to get rid of it. So being alone it was.

The warmies had lost all its heat again. It was cold. YS was still shivering, and she was still glowing with concern on his nightstand. Well. Guess he should do something about this, huh?

YS steeled himself for the sharp bite of the air outside of his blankets. It wasn’t much warmer under them, but still something he could feel now being exposed to the open air. Shivering and still trying to conserve any heat in his body, he pushed down frustrated, defeated tears as he brought the warmies with him back to the microwave.

Maybe the twelfth time would be different.

[songbird-of-eden]

A CLUE?! The Missing Death Theory

Good Omens S2 SPOILERS below!!!

Okay, it has been the nocturnal habit of mine over the last 3 days to suddenly dwell on the Good Omens finale and scrutinise every detail in a sleep-deprived thought soup.

And apparently, tonight, my last two remaining braincells fired up their little engines and decided to put something rather interesting together.

One thing that got me when I watched the finale was the book that Muriel was reading. "The Crow Road."

So I decided to give it a quick Google, and realised the opening line of the book is one that Gabriel, or Jim, stumbled across earlier in the season. It goes like this:

"It was the day my grandmother exploded. I sat in the crematorium, listening to my Uncle Hamish quietly snoring in harmony to Bach's Mass in B Minor, and I reflected that it always seemed to be death that drew me back to Gallanach."

Now, you may be thinking, okay, but what does this have to do with anything? And you would be right to be confused, but hear me out.

Death has a major, reoccurring influence in S2.

Yes, we have the obvious coffee shop "give me coffee or give me death" reference (this has a major point that I will get to a little later, but please, bear with me). But that is not the only one.

Throughout each episode, Death has been raised and eluded by numerous characters. In ep2, Jobe's family were saved by our ineffable duo. In ep3, we have the incident with the graverobber and stopping her from calling it a day. In ep4, we have the rise of the nazi zombies. In ep5, our unfortunate fellow from the ball gets thrown to the demons and appears to die, only to make a reappearance later on in ep6, albiet looking a little nibbled on.

And then there's the fact that miracles, as Crowley points out, are measured in "the power required to raise people from the dead."

Still with me? Okay good. Because its gonna get a little more crazy from here. Time to break out the funky tinfoil hats.

So, yes, many of the characters seemingly ellude death, right? Not a big point at first glance, considering the upbeat nature of the show... until you consider this.

Whilst in the coffee shop, the Metatron asks whether anyone ever chooses death instead of coffee. A weird line to be sure - perhaps an awkward statement of an angel unsure of how to interact with mortals. Totally plausible, right? Well, what if it was a test?

Nina claimed to remember everyone by what they order, and replied that no one has ever chosen death. I mean, I would hope so, but what if Death was no longer a thing that happened?

What if our devious Metatron wrote Death out of the Book of Life, considering that Death is a being instead of a simple concept as shown in S1 - and so the Metratron was asking as a test to gauge Nina's response. To figure out if his alteration had taken effect?

Okay, yes. It sounds a little wild, but if that is not the case, it does not mean that something is not going on with Death.

Going back to The Raven Road book, the plot follows a boy in pursuit of uncovering the mystery around his missing uncle. So perhaps, it is not so crazy after all to believe that something, or rather, someone is missing.

Which leads me to another missing creature.

Remember that heartbreaking line from Crowley? "You hear that? No nightingales?"

It was the dagger in many fan's hearts, but potentially held another meaning. Because in the poem: "Ode to a nightingale", the bird is used to represent, to an extent, death. As well as the concept of immortality.

Which means it's disappearance may be signalling a strange shift in the world.

Which brings me to my final point. We are in the home stretch now kiddos!

The second coming. The Metatron's grand plan.

In biblical text, it states that the Second Coming will be a sudden and unmistakable incident, like "a flash of lightning".

Now, where else did we see lightning? Hmmm. What about Crowley's enraged outburst that sealed poor Maggie and Nina in the coffee shop?

Which makes their line an episode or two later even more interesting...

Maggie: "Did it all start with the lightning?"

Crowley: "No, way before that."

Does this mean that events were starting to be influenced and set in motion way earlier as the Metatron began to tinker in the book?

We also have the name of S2 ep1 being called "The Arrival" - a name the Second Coming is sometimes referred to as, along with the text: "For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel's call and with the sound of God's trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise."

So, just take a moment to digest that.

An archangel's call. Well, we've had two of those - Gabriel calling on Aziraphale as well as Aziraphale being called to heaven. Then we have the trumpet that plays whenever Micheal and co descend from Heaven, a sound Aziraphale actually asks whether Maggie could hear.

Which leads to the final part: the dead in Christ will rise.

People are not dying as they should, be it from the influence of our ineffable duo, or perhaps, it is the Metatron's plan after all. A way to start the second coming.

Even the opening credits alludes to this with Crowley and Aziraphale seemingly leading a crowd of humans out of hell and through various time periods, but perhaps I really am getting ahead of myself.

So yep. Something is very up with Death.

Anyway. I need to be up in 5 hours for work. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk before the incoherent babbling begins.

[suzyandthefox]

Predator

Yet another vore Drabble

But this one is very personal, as it's from my (Suzy's creator) perspective if I was a pred.

Soft safe g/t F/F vore (What a shock I know)

Generally angsty, mild violence warning, mild mentions of throwing up (for those who have emetophobia) , but happy ending I swear

(SFW interaction only, I'm going to turn you into red toothpaste if you try and sexualise this)

Taglist: @pineappleparfaitie @opikarts @dav8530 @flights-of-fangcy (ask to be added or removed)

Word count: 1360

I don't remember what started it.

I don't remember what is it that made us yell into each other, what is it made me shout, growl, and pull at Suzy's thin pink tail.

But I knew that I wanted to be heard, I wanted her to listen.

In the hell that I was raised in, I was never allowed to speak, never to even breathe against the will of others, never to emit a noise beyond submissive, faint agreements, only a shallow doll.

And I never shut up, I bottled all my words,all my anger, and every time I spoke, it would all come spilling.

"Listen to me!" I shouted at Suzy "What's the point of having such large ears if you wouldn't use them for what god intended you to use them for!"

She protested at me, tried to retort,but it only made my blood boil, my fangs grinded at each other, my claws dug into the wood of the table.

Listen to me, Listen to me, Listen to me!!

"I'm not going to continue talking if you are going to keep talking like this!" The mouse girl protested and gave me her back, about to walk away.

I pulled her from her tail, and in a cruel fist I almost crushed her soft little frame, it was identical to a stress ball, I hate that I made this comparison.

"Did I say you can leave?!" My voice came seething, a sharp hiss that scared me more than it scared her.

I stare into her, she was small, round, with soft blonde fur on her large mouse ears, two large braided pig tails , a chubby body completely covered in freckles, and the dainty little green dress.

Seizing her did not calm my anger one bit, it had enraged me more, I was afraid she would run away...

Run away and leave me forever.

I will lose her.

I couldn't handle even the idea of it, and combined with her squirms and fights against me, and my frustrations, a primal desire I didn't know I possessed awoke in me.

I drew sharp breaths as I stared intently again, and something about my gaze must've changed, because Suzy cowered into herself when she looked at me.

"Fox?"

Her wide, frightful green eyes made me grin, I felt dominant,I felt that I was in control, It was intoxicating.

Knowing me, I should've stopped there, but I was... Hungry.

Hunger was clawing at my innards like a rampant caged beast.

I am human, at least I think I am, but it was moments such as these that made me question what I was.

It happened in the blink of an eye,in a quick, swift motion, I shoved Suzy into my mouth.

Fabric, hair, fur brushed against my tongue and palate, I coughed and my throat spasmed, it didn't help that she was fighting for her life in there.

But still I closed my jaws around her, by a miracle I dodged her miniscule little limbs and didn't bite them off.

I savoured her for a moment, my tongue probed around the shivering little form in my mouth.

Candied strawberries, I forgot -or rather gave up thinking- about the fact that Suzy was a person of her own, a sentient being.

My mind blanked, there was a sweet little strawberry in my mouth, one that I'm going to swallow whole.

I gently slurped her tail in like a noodle.

It didn't help that her protests and fights died down into weak inaudible sobs, I was in delight at her taste.

I swallowed, and she was akin to cold water going down my throat.

My throat is sensitive, I thought I will just spit her out, I never thought I would actually succeed at swallowing a tiny, I never thought I would actually be a real... Predator.

But the horrifying realisation dawned on me when I felt her weight slowly going my throat, my hands instinctively lifted to my chest as she slowly descended behind my heart and kept going.

Fuck no, no no no no! Suzy!

I devoured my best friend ... whole and alive!

The weight dropped in my stomach just as my heart dropped, I felt her squirms inside me.

They were horrible.

I had fantasized about what it would feel like to have a tiny in my stomach, squirming and flailing and such, other preds keep saying it feels great to have them struggling in there.

It wasn't, its awful, I know damn well the being inside isn't supposed to be inside!

My stomach churned and ached, it was already a fragile organ that was agitated by the tiniest bit of stress, now it was full on assaulting both me and my little prisoner, who wouldn't just take it.

I was reminded, in the worst way possible, that Suzy has claws, because she used them to shred me from the inside.

Yes, her bites and claws will do minimal damage to me, but my god did they hurt, they hurt so much that I curled into myself in my chair, my face buried in my hands and my knees pressing to my elbows.

A fetal position, I was just as mortified as she was.

"Suzy..." I begged her as my tears fell, I shivered as she did, my voice died down and it was only pathetic whines and sobs.

We both curled into ourselves and cried for a while, sharing a tearful moment as we both tried to understand what happened.

I felt Suzy against the walls of my stomach, hugging folds of flesh in her miniscule paws, and she continued crying, but only this she wasn't trying to stay away, quite the opposite.

"I'm sorry, I'm very very sorry" We both said it, the tension eased.

I relaxed myself and sighed heavily, I never thought I would actually get to this point, but I had already known about my powers that would keep Suzy safe.

Due to my... nature, I was mostly inorganic, my material would change depending on the day, at that exact moment I was paper and so I could only consume things similar to me, things made of paper as well.

So having an organic being inside me wouldn't hurt them,as I was, in some way, just one big elaborate piece of origami.

"You know that you are... safe, right? You know I would never hurt you..."

My voice came as a quiet slurry of tearful words.

"Yes... But I was still scared, I panicked... Are you okay?"

"Yep! Completely fine!" I lied through my teeth. "Are you okay?"

"Not my first time being eaten!" Correct, it wasn't.

But it definitely was the most chaotic for her.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you" I told her weakly "And for eating you, and for pulling your tail... Dear god, what kind of awful being am I?"

"You aren't awful! You were just... confused! It happens!" She gently reassured me through sweet touches to my innards, still it didn't undo her scratches at me.

"Let me just look up a way to make myself throw up, I need to let you out" I told her as I grabbed my phone.

"You actually don't know how?!"

"Relax, mousey, not like I'm going to digest you or anything." I poked my stomach with my free hand. "You deserve to be imprisoned for your crimes against me anyway."

"It's just... You keep saying you want to be like those other ... predators, but now that you actually ate a tiny, you can't actually let them out?" She kicked me.

"As plankton said, Never thought I would get this far. By the way, I'm going to put you in the pickle jar again as soon as I spit you out."

"Why?!"

"Because you shredded my stomach like it was cheese, you little prick!"

I gave a slap to my stomach, and I heard the audible "oof", we shared a laugh at the absurd situation.

Holding my best friend, safe and warm inside me, I can absolutely understand the appeal of it...

But I'm absolutely not going to do it again.

[andromeda-nova-writing]

Impressions

Wriothesley x Fem! Reader

Summary: With Wriothesley not wanting his photo one may wonder about the kind of Impression that he wants to leave upon people. Or maybe just question if he may be a bit Kamera shy and finding any valid excuse to avoid his photo being taken. What’s seen in a photo can lead to many thoughts about the person within. Why not try to make it something good?

Words: 2,404

AN: A kind of sequel to the sticker fic. It stands on its own pretty well though. It's a miracle I had so much of the fic done in time for his birthday.

Y/N made her way towards Wriothesley and Sigewinne after watching Charlotte, Lumine, and Paimon leaving Fortress of Meropide. “Sigewinne, the rest of the medications you asked for have been finished up.” She reported. Even though the flood didn’t destroy Fontaine, some things had gotten lost in the waters and there were people in the Fortress who did require certain medications daily. It was best to get things back to normal as soon as possible after the disaster had been mostly averted.

Wriothesley looked over to her with a sense of relief washing over him. “See there’s work to be done, no need to continue this conversation.”

Y/N looked down at Sigewinne. “Do tell what I’ve interrupted.”

“His Grace still refuses an interview with Charlotte. Specifically having his photo taken.” She explained.

“There’s no need for attention to be placed upon me. I just want credit to be given to those who deserve it more than me.” He continued the same argument and reason he gave to everyone.

She rolled her eyes. “Sigewinne, I think I’m beginning to agree with my mother that our dear Duke, His Grace, Warden of the Fortress of Meropide, Wriothesley is afraid of the kamera.”

The two girls laughed over her teasing. Wriothesley had rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over her joke. He considered walking away to just end it before any more teasing could go forward. But then again her words were actually quite telling.

“You talk about me to your mother? Didn’t think I made such a big impression on you that warranted that.”

“It is precisely because there are no photos of you that she asks questions. And don’t be so full of yourself Ri. I talk about everyone in my life to my mother. You can feel important if you ever meet her.”

“Y/N’s mother is quite lovely. She’s always so curious about everyone and everything.” Sigewinne explained the lunch the three of them had a few weeks ago. “She creates the most adorable stickers. I still have to frame the portrait she drew of me.”

“It’s just a napkin drawing. Don’t think too much of it. She just can’t keep her hands still and you happened to capture her eye.”

Wriothesley could not believe what he was hearing as the two kept their conversation going without him. Was her mother in on the great stickering week he had gone through? How many of the stickers had he peeled off were created by that lady?

“I’ll see what I can do about you seeing her again then for a proper portrait. And if no times line up, maybe I can borrow her kamera to get a good reference photo for her.” Y/N leaned down just a bit and covered the side of her mouth with her hand. She did even not attempt to lower her voice. “Then we can try and sneak a photo of our kamera shy Duke.”

The two of them were laughing once again. Why were the only times Y/N used any of his titles it was a sorry attempt at professionalism or just to tease him? He grabbed Y/N’s arm pulling her up so she was no longer leaning down. 

“See Sigewinne, he continues to manhandle me. You’ve known him the longest. Tell him how to treat a lady.” Y/N complained. 

Sigewinne continued her laughter. Wriothesley was way too in love to do anything that would hurt Y/N. The two of them made a very cute couple, well if they ever got together.

“If you have time to tease me and joke around, then you can come help organize some files in my office since Sigewinne has no work for you.”

“I have plenty of work to do for her.” She argued attempting to pull her arm away. He didn’t budge. His grip was firm yet gentle enough to not cause her any pain.

“Actually that’s all I needed for you at the moment. Ottnit and I can cover the rest.” With how busy it had been there had been no way Wriothesley had been taking enough time to rest. And Sigewinne trusted that he wouldn’t actually put Y/N to work inside his office or work himself.

“Oh, the betrayal. Ottnit is officially my favorite between the three of you down here.” That was a lie. She’d never pick a favorite.

“Just don’t forget to take a break you two. I don’t want to interrupt your time to remind either of you.” Sigewinne began her walk back to the infirmary before Y/N had a chance to comment on what she had said.

“Wriothesley.” She whined as she was gently being pulled away towards his office. “People will talk. I thought you didn’t care for that.”

“You must be people then if you are already discussing about me with your mother.” He laughed as they made their way into his office.

“Only because of your actions. I don’t know how it got to her but she thinks you can’t keep your hands off of me.” She only spoke the next part once the door was closed behind them. “She thinks you’re courting me. And since you rarely make appearances outside the Fortress of Meropide, my mother wants a photo of you before she truly believes that rumor or listens to me.” It didn’t help that part of Y/N wanted that rumor to be true as well. Even then it wasn’t like she could find the time to admit it aloud just what she wanted.

They made their way up the stairs. “I don’t know why you need a photo of me if we aren’t actually a couple.” He let go of her arm once they reached the top.

Y/N frowned, looking around and seeing his office was spotless. Liar. Not a single thing was out of place. There wasn’t even a stack of papers on his desk. “Is it wrong of me to still want to show her a photo of my friend? The only photos I’ve managed to find of you are mid-fight in the Pankration Ring. I can’t show those to her.”

Wriothesley walked over to a bookshelf with his tea collection looking through it to find what suited Y/N’s tastes the most. “It’s a photo that has my face in it. Sounds like it counts.” 

"I am not showing my mom a photo of you shirtless, sweaty, and punching someone during a boxing match. She may be quite the easygoing person but I think she'd have my head on a platter if that was her first impression of you." 

"Vanilla Chai or Orange Cinnamon?" They were her favorites but he wasn’t sure which one she'd be more in the mood for. "You want a good first impression of me for her? I'm a Duke. Shouldn't that be good enough?" It was usually good enough for people who had no need to have any idea how he was as a Warden.

Y/N moved over to his desk and began messing with the gramophone playing the record he had on there last. If she was to have tea then she'd have music as well. "Earl Grey if you don't mind. I actually enjoyed it a lot last time you offered it." The sound of his music was lovely to her ears. "And no your title is not a good enough impression for her. Where do you think I got my dislike of titles from?"

"Well bring her down to the Fortress one day. We can all have lunch together." He offered up the idea as he began to steep the tea for them. "If it's that important to you that I make a good impression on her, I'm sure a lunch here would help."

Y/N sighed and shook her head. "I want her to meet you Ri not the Warden of this Fortress. She can meet that side of you at a later date.” Realistic it was a side that she hoped her Mother would never truly have to meet. “She should meet my friend. The one who could put away two pots of tea and is covered in stickers and loves songs you could easily find yourself slow dancing to." 

“Is that how you view me?”

“You’re also a bit cocky, love to gossip more than you would ever admit and you find too much fun in watching people guess if you are joking around or being serious.” She sat down on the couch in his office. 

“Well, now I’m not giving you your favorite mug.”

Y/N’s laughter filled the room. “You’re so mean. You should be happy I’ve only brought up the good things about you to my mother. I want her to like you.”

“You shouldn’t worry about it too much. Watch Sigewinne find out and she’ll be worried about you for the entire week.”

“I have to worry about it. You’re such a mystery to so much of Fontaine and have way too many rumors floating around you. I don’t want my mother to believe rumors about you.”

Wriothesley began pouring the tea out in the two mugs for them. “If I agree to let you take a picture of me, can we drop this?”

“Under what conditions? I know there’s more than just me dropping this.” She sat straight up excitedly waiting for her mug to be handed to her. He still had her favorite mug out for her. 

“Just be in the photo with me.” 

“Admit you are kamera shy.”

Wriothesley rolled his eyes before handing Y/N her favorite mug and taking a seat on the couch next to her. His mug was placed on the coffee table in front of them. “All because I don’t care to have my photo taken doesn’t mean I’m afraid of the kamera. I just don’t think there’s ever been a good reason that requires a photo of me.”

“So you must find this a good enough reason then.”

“You were going to try and get a photo of me regardless.” With how sneaky she was about handing off more stickers to Sigewinne, Y/N would have an easy chance of taking the photo. Knowing his luck with the woman, he would notice while she laughing over a photo where a stray sticker had wandered towards his face.

She frowned. “What do you take me for? I was only joking earlier. You should know I respect your privacy.”

He shook his head. “I just meant you would keep begging me every time you showed up here. As funny as that would be, I don’t want you to waste your time.”

Y/N laughed. “Do you really think I would be caught begging you for a picture? I could easily convince you into it if I wanted.”

“And how would you do that?”

“Have I not just convinced you?” She drank her tea hiding the smile that crept onto her face.

He sighed realizing he had no way out of her question. “Remind me why I enjoy your company.”

She shrugged. “How am I supposed to know if you never told me? You know Ri, this would be the perfect time to tell me. I’m all ears.” Y/N placed her mug on the coffee table. She scooted closer towards him and looked him in the eyes. There was an attempt at looking like the most innocent person who definitely would never tease him. 

Wriothesley rolled his eyes. “Suddenly I forgot. Whoops,” he spoke with a shrug before reaching down so he could finally enjoy his drink that should have cooled off enough.

She crossed her arms before falling back onto the couch. “You’re an ass.” She told him almost singing it along with the music that played.

“I thought that was just my charming personality. The part you wanted to introduce to your mother.” He began teasing her.

“Don't make me regret telling you that,” she sighed. 

“Which part?”

“The second part. I've never called your personality charming.”

“You sounded charmed when you were describing me moments ago. And considering what you said, I should feel important that you want me to meet her.” He threw her words right back at her. “If you would have regretted it, I don’t think you would have brought it up.”

“If I can reveal all of that to you however indirectly-”

“Seemed pretty direct to me.” He interrupted. His smile was met with a glare. He shrugged a small apology for interrupting her.

“If I can reveal all of that to you indirectly,” she started once again. “I would hope you would understand I’d only regret it if things didn’t go the way I hope they would.” And the most she would hope for now is just a cherished friendship. Even then a cherished friendship was something she could happily live with.

Wriothesley placed his mug back down on the coffee table. “You really do worry too much.” He finally gave in to the thoughts that plagued the back of his mind for many months. He placed the gentlest kiss upon her cheek. “I really don't think you were worried about what your mother would think about me as much as you say it aloud.” He knew her long enough to know when she actually was worried and he couldn’t find any of it within her voice.

Y/N felt frozen. Yes, they flirted back and forth, she was used to that. But she didn't think they would ever act upon anything. She wasn’t even sure if their flirting was serious or just a thing they did jokingly.  “Wriothesley?” She spoke quietly in her shock. Never did she think such an action would steal her thoughts away. It was the last thing she expected but his action was something she welcomed to happen again. 

“Yes?” He leaned back away from her giving her space to process what had happened between them.

“Are you serious?” She began to wonder when their flirting changed from jokes into something different. Had it become serious without her even noticing?

“Only if you had been.” He had been. Playing with someone else’s heart would have been cruel. To love someone platonically, familially, and romantically was something he took seriously. He’d been through enough to know you don’t play with anyone’s heart. A heart is something that should be treated with the utmost care.

“I should be more worried about what she thinks. I'm gonna need her to like you now.”