#my trains by lemon demon had been playing

[ffffungiking]

"You flatsters, where did you get these tickets?!…Did you rob someone…?"

[moe-broey]

Got any music you listen to for any FEH characters? Be it for vibes or brain animatics?

WAH.... I'VE BEEN......... SITTING ON THIS ..... mostly cause I worry my answer might be a bit lacking 🧍

I have. A small handful of songs that make me think of Alfonse! Some are silly, some not! In no particular order:

I Earn My Life - Lemon Demon

> THIS ONE..... IS SO FUNNY TO ME...... but it is so painfully Alfonse-core........ to me. Esp lines "I learned it from my father and my father never lied" and "I wouldn't be so worried if I wasn't always right". Biting him. Killing him, even

Devil's Train - The Lab Rats

> Not a direct one-to-one (it is a specific ass situation song and I love it for that) but! This one is so Book 3 to me... if any of these are animatics in my brain material it's this one! Esp if it's following the Alfonse who would become Líf... I also think it captures the generational cycles that are present with Alfonse, Gustav, and Grampa Askr as well!

Ghost - Mystery Skulls

> Some are more Líf leaning tbh LMFAO but! Speaking of! I've mentioned it before, but Lewis was actually a huge inspiration/reference for me when learning How To Draw Líf -- sorting out how to simplify him, get him to fit more w my cartoony style, and how I want him to look body-type wise (big broad guy!)

Also the way I emphasize heart motifs on Líf is very inspired by Lewis! While also trying to simplify the shapes/taking creative liberties and running with them LMFAO

So Ghost is like. Yeah I think the lyrics can fit! But there's Deeplore here too LMFAO

Sex With A Ghost - Teddy Hyde

> This one is very just vibes/up to interpretation. It also feels like a companion to Ghost LMFAO

Cupid - Jack Strauber

> THIS ONE. IS ANOTHER SILLY ONE. BUT. Hear me out. I get such a strong mental image when I listen to it. Bruno just dumped him/ghosted him. Alfonse is face down ass up laying flat on his bedroom floor. He's been playing this song on repeat for at least an hour. Sharena tentatively checks in on him very "Are ya winning, son?" but she knows he fucking isn't. I think it also captures the feelings of heartache and regret of letting someone in and getting hurt for it. AND AND it's because of THE CIRCUMSTANCES. Lamenting The Circumstances -- "Cupid, how could you be so cruel?"

Fist Bump - Sonic Forces themesong

> SONIC THE HEDGEHOG JUMPSCARE‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ It is. So fitting though. I am ALWAYS thinking of him when listening to it...........

This December - Ricky Montgomery

> This one..... is so him...... it makes me soft. If you check out any of these I def recommend this one!!! And Devil's Train, both are also just so fun to listen to in a Music That Sounds way (I like the flow!)

I could have SWORN I had more but........... I never made a complete collection...... honorable mention to The Black Parade and a handful of MCR songs tbh (This Is How I Disappear feels very distinctly Líf, I Don't Love You honestly could be either depending on the circumstances, Famous Last Words feels a little more Alfonse-leaning). I think if you introduced Alfonse to MCR it WOULD rearrange his brain chemistry, it Would be the closest thing he's had to therapy. And in addition to music I would introduce him to personally, I think The Wonder Years is another good one (but all of TWY's stuff feels so deeply personal... like diary entries and poetry.... cannot be entirely Blorboified. To me)

[thereyvan]

Humorous Chapter Titles: A Very Long Compilation

What The Fuck Is A Driver’s License 

In Which We Learn Why Tiny Demons Shouldn’t Drive Cars 

Asses Were Kicked In This One 

Welcome To Cry Time, Bitch 

Well, I Guess That Happened 

Not This Shit Again 

Why Does God Hate Me 

Stop Calling Me A Twink(I’m Straight And Have A Girlfriend) 

He Said That If You Call Him A Catboy One More Time, He’ll Scratch You 

Fuck The Moon 

I Fucked Your Mom And She Liked It 

Alexa, Play Can You Feel My Heart By Bring Me The Horizon 

She’s Cheer Captain And I’ve Been Suffering For A Really Long Time 

The Boys Are Back In Town(And They Brought Some Trauma) 

It Is Wednesday My Dudes 

Fuck You And Your Ugly Christmas Sweater 

Never Gonna Give You Up, Probably Gonna Let You Down 

Dance Dance Till You’re Falling Apart To Halftime 

Some People Shouldn’t Be Allowed To Adult 

Really? Right In Front Of My Crocs? 

That’s Not Even Remotely Reassuring 

Facing God And Moonwalking Into Hell 

Well, When Life Gives You Lemons, (Insert Screaming Here) 

You Can Probably Tell That The Author Failed Chemistry 

Standing On A Pile Of Corpses Whilst Eating An Entire Package Of Peeps 

Shitty Advice From A Dumbass Demon Guy 

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, And Acceptance Of Depression 

Look At All Those Chickens 

Everyone’s Favorite Pedophile 

Sir That’s Our Emotional Support Asshole 

You Give Love A Bad Name 

Externally A Ghost, Internally A Zombie 

The Author Can’t Stop Traumatizing The Protagonist 

Falling Out Of A Tree 

That Wasn’t Supposed To Happen 

Literally Nobody Agreed To This 

When The Fuck Is This Story Going To End 

We Don’t Get Bitches, We Are Bitches 

The Good, The Bad, And The Even Worse 

This Meme Is Dead, But There Isn’t Any Way To Describe This Other Than Ohio Moment 

Oh My God, They Were Roommates 

Devastation Demolition 

Take This Chance Like A Pill 

I Would Literally Rather Be Dead 

Ohana Means Family 

Parkouring Into Purgatory 

You Take That Back 

Where Is Your Turkey God Now 

Rallying For Kinder Eggs 

All Aboard The Fun Train To Party Hell 

God Is Canon And I’m The Author Now 

We Put The “Fun” Into Dysfunction 

My Bed Is A Grave, So Shovel Dirt Onto My Sheets 

The Odd-yssey 

“He’s Well Hung” And I Am Hanging Up 

Orgasm Smile 

I Shot Romance In The Chest 

Who The Hell Ruined My Life(I Did) 

I’m A Loose Bolt Of A Complete Machine 

Stop Ending Every Sentence With Bitch, Bitch 

And Here We Have The Mentally Disturbed 

Professional Conflict Escalator 

Hey Look At This Rock I Found 

Crime’s Only Crime If You Get Caught 

Refuge In A Gay Nightclub 

Neurodivergency Called And Had A Panic Attack(They Hate Talking On The Phone) 

Ending Conversations Before They Start 

You Can’t Stop Me From Not Being Okay 

Suck My Co- Wait You Weren’t Supposed To- Oh… 

No, You Can’t Go Scuba Diving In The Wishing Well 

I Pissed Your Pants 

Dismember Me For Centuries 

Time For Crab 

Men’s Tits, Am I Right? 

[inquisimer]

for this dadwc friday, Neria + 🍵Someone forgot a key ingredient (and the key ingredient is CHEESE)

hehehe back on my cheese nonsense, to Josephine's detriment and Neria's amusement🥰🥰

for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

The spread was impressive. Clearly, the ambassador had gone all out.

A cloth, embroidered in honor of the Ferelden throne and the house of Mac Tir, covered the simple, sturdy table they’d brought in for the purpose. Matching napkins were artfully folded and placed atop delicate china, nicer than anything Neria had ever eaten off of in Skyhold. Tiny, ornate forks and spoons accompanied each setting, as did a teacup, rimmed and decorated with gold filigree that gleamed in the early morning sunlight. Pitchers of cream and sugar bowls with dainty tongs had been placed strategically to ensure each participant had one within reach.

Then there was the food. A dozen platters, each with a different delicacy, had been carefully placed to fill out the tabletop. For the savory options, there were eggs done in the Anders’ style, encased in sausage, breaded, and fried; delicate cucumber sandwiches with the crusts removed; quiches loaded with ham and scallions. On the sweeter side there were lemon and rosemary scones; little cardamom cakes, dusted with cinnamon sugar; trifles layered with mint whipped cream and strawberries.

In the middle, a tart and cake sat side by side, clearly the centerpiece of the offerings. The crust on the former was flaky and golden brown, ornately braided around the edge of a creamy filling swirled with leeks and dill. The latter sat atop a glass stand, sporting several layers of sponge, immaculate frosting roses, and topped with chocolate swirls and gold leaf.

An impressive spread, as she’d said. There was just one problem.

“Where’s the cheese, Josephine?” Neria faced the ambassador, watching as her expression fell from expectantly confident to a subtle, concerned panic.

“The…cheese, Inquisitor?”

“The cheese,” she repeated. “Surely you don’t intend for us to host the Queen of Ferelden without offering her any cheese?”

“I—“ Josephine whipped back toward the table; Neria could practically see her train of thought.

Skyhold was in a grey area when it came to sovereignty. Neither Orlais nor Ferelden had a concrete claim over the fortress, and therefore oversight of the Inquisition fell on no one—but no one was particularly satisfied with that either. The ambassador had been playing favors to both nations, struggling to keep enough heat from their backs until they’d successfully dealt with Corypheus. Toward that goal, she’d invited the queen to see Skyhold for herself: to see that the training there was, in fact, against demons and ancient magisters, and not some ploy to stage Orlesian forces on Ferelden borders.

But she forgot the cheese.

It was a cruel prank, perhaps, but it’d been a rough couple of weeks and Neria desperately needed the laugh. She kept her face in carefully arranged neutrality as Josephine cycled through stages of widened eyes and ashen skin.

“I—oh, I didn’t think—oh—“ One hand flew to her updo and she took several steps toward the  hallway before seeming to remember that she should justify her departure. “Excuse me Inquisitor, Ser Warden, I must remedy this at once! I’ll consult with Leliana, I’m sure she’ll know something or—or someone—oh no—“

Neria held in her giggles until the ambassador was out of earshot, then dissolved in on herself. Truly it was Josephine’s fault, for not realizing that anything Neria said about politics was sure to be worth less than garbage.

“You know, I realize I wasn’t meant to be king for long at all, but never once in that time did Eamon bring up the necessity of cheese at a banquet.” Alistair didn’t move from where he’d propped himself against the wall, but he did raise a curious eyebrow in her direction.

“You don’t agree that the queen would be insulted by it’s absence?”

“The queen? No I don’t think she would,” he said dryly. “Perhaps if I had the throne it would be a greater consideration.”

“Well your opinion matters just as much to Josephine; more to me, because I actually value it.”

Alistair snorted. “So do you think she’ll be able to find cheese in the next few hours, or will we be watching her explain the absence of this nonexistent formality from a safe distance?”

“Oh, there’s plenty of cheese.” Neria waved a careless hand toward the window. “Some of the younger recruits saved a handful of goats; they’ve been harvesting milk for months now.”

“Ah good. I’ll save my excuses for not attending for another time, then.”

The sunlight glinted off Neria’s smile. “As if I would be that cruel.”

[peggy-sue-reads-a-book]

Ok I know we know that Achilles sped through puberty like Bella Swan’s demon baby because of his demigod powers so for a sec there he was taller than Pat. But like we also know that he got Lycomades good. And Diomedes. And O’Ditty. They’d probably been hitting up concubines all over the Mediterranean until they found him cause like not everyone would know him but touch alone, by smell. So it’s safe to assume he was a swole 11yo but came to a screeching halt at like 5’6”.

We also know Patroclus yeeted another child off the cliff in the 4th grade because he lost at monopoly. That shit’s right out the Homeric cannon. And clearly his arms and legs were long enough to scoot right up the Trojan walls.

Conclusion: My sweet booboo pumpkin killing machine is smol. Like pre training montage Hercules with only two patches of fuzz he has ever had to shave. Furthermore, Pat is bigger than Achilles and when the bois really wanna use intimidation they make Automedon giddy the fuck up driving the chariot while Patroclus hops on the tailgate carrying Achilles’s piggyback. Maybe on spring break they play chicken in the pool against Diomedes and Odysseus. Maybe the Angry Lemon hates it.

[slumped-in-the-arms-of-fiction]

OK so a few things from the penultimate episode of This Is Us just keep playing in my head and I feel I need to exorcise these demons and tumblr is definitely the place for that. Under the cut for spoilers and because no-one may want to see them at all but you're getting them anyway 😆

Come talk to me about it! Help me fill the void inside me!

In no particular order...

The concept of the train and hearing everyone's goodbyes over the tannoy and seeing people like Beth and Kevin and Sophie at different stages was really lovely and so well done.

Re different stages: the generations of Randall and Kevin? Are you KIDDING ME!? This was so lovely even from a show POV, seeing the actors portraying the same character interact. Big Randall doing the pushups with Little Randall and Big Kevin and Little Kevin looking at baseball cards because they're talking about these moments by Bec's bedside. Only one Katie Girl, which is a shame, but still loved that she was there at the end with her fireflies

Speaking of Kate, I'm sure you're meant to think Bec's waiting for Jack, but it was so sweet that it was Kate. I'm so glad they didn't decide to be asses and not have her show up. Thankfully it's not that kind of show.

But what kind of show is it? The heartbreaking kind. Because holy fucking hell Jack. Revisiting the night he died? Stop, why would you hurt me so? His smokey clothes and burned hands 😭 The words of wisdom shared anew. THE LAST SCENE OMFG I'M CRYING AGAIN!!! Just waiting for her to lie down beside him again. Owwwww my heart. Everything with Jack makes me a blubbering mess. Even freaking promo shots coz he's goooooonnnne 😭😭😭

Look, I know it's emotionally manipulative storytelling but I really don't care. I am gonna share in the highs and lows and cry and laugh thank you very much. The whole Jack dying so a kid who's gonna cure Alzheimer's in the future can live? Twee af but still, such is life sometimes. A balancing act of sorrow and joy, life and death.

I love that Randall was the one to say the goodbye speech for the Big Three because he was the one that took on Jack's mantle of Big Speeches when he died, so it was only fitting.

It occurred to me after that Bec only had conversations with those who had passed on, which was just so clever. William is such a sweet sweet man. And the doc! Ah god.

And Miguel. Lovely Miguel. That could've been awkward 😆 She's his favourite person but sorry buddy, Jack is her one and only.

The little objects from her life on the shelves. I'll have to look again but Jack's dad mug and baby Jack's boots stood out.

Really just a gorgeous gorgeous episode and an absolutely masterfully created show, weaving and connecting so much throughout the 6 seasons. The callbacks and connections are truly exquisite storytelling. I don't know how I'm gonna cope next week...

Mandy deserves an Emmy, for sure. And maybe she'll get one with this episode or for another from this season. I fear Milo's missed his chance, though. There was only one Jack-centric episode this season and while he was great in it (oh god, the funeral scene; the stepping away from the table and crying!!), I don't know if it'll get him an Emmy. Other seasons showcased his talent much better, but them's the breaks, it happens. Steve Carell never won for The Office and that was an absolute crying shame. Something something lemons etc.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Twelve Months - Good Omens fanfic

Happy 31st Anniversary of Good Omens! :D

To celebrate this momentous occasion, I have posted a slightly-sad, slightly-sweet Wake the Snake fic on AO3, because our demon has been napping for a whole Twelve Months, and sometimes Angel gets a little lonely!

Thank you all for another fantastic year in this fandom!

--

Twelve months.

Aziraphale pushed open the door to Crowley’s flat, a simple shopping bag tucked under his arm.

The lights were still off, the curtains drawn in the awful empty room he called a study. Nothing had changed.

He passed through the enormous, rotating section of wall and into the solarium. This was still bright—many of the plants flourishing despite being unattended so long, despite clearly not having enough water. A few had started flowering. They waved their branches at him as he entered, perking up eagerly.

The angel waved back, but first he peeked into Crowley’s bedroom.

He was still where Aziraphale had left him, on his last visit a month before. Bright red hair spilled across black pillows, grown into a stringy mop. Duvet pulled up to his messily-bearded chin. One hand curled up beside him on the bed.

Still asleep.

With a sigh, Aziraphale crossed over to the plants, who greeted him excitedly, unfurling their newest leaves, a few vines hanging down to brush his face.

“Hello, my lovelies. How are you all doing? Look at you, grown at least a foot since I saw you, I’m sure. And you! What beautiful pink buds. Very impressive.”

He didn’t think Crowley would approve of how he spoke to the plants, but the poor things had been so distraught on his first visit, straining to keep upright, trying to hide their yellowing leaves. So much healthier now, much happier for just a bit of attention. He picked up the watering can and gave them all a quick splash. He didn’t know how much water each needed, but it didn’t seem to matter.

“You keep it up, dears. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Picking up his shopping bag again, Aziraphale headed down the hall to the kitchen. The kettle sat on the island where he’d left it, and he quickly refilled it and set it to boil. While he waited, he pulled his latest creations from the bag: a small pumpkin spice cake from a recipe he’d been perfecting since fall, a lemon coconut cake, and a few apple cinnamon muffins.

Two plates—a muffin for each, a slice of the coconut cake for himself and the pumpkin spice for Crowley.[1] The rest went into the refrigerator, where they would never go bad or stale.

Aziraphale put the plates onto a tray, along with forks and napkins. Next he found two mugs and pulled the little tin of his second-favorite tea out of the bag just as the kettle boiled.

For himself, a teaspoon of the expertly blended leaves, steeped for exactly three minutes, resulting in a pale brown tea with a slightly spicy aroma. For Crowley, he dropped a tea bag into boiling water and let it sit until it was almost black.[2]

He carried the tray back to the solarium and selected a bright red-and-gold tulip that was nearly vibrating in its eagerness to be noticed. A moment to assure the other plants that they were still doing fabulously—particularly a self-conscious little succulent that had rather drooped over the winter but was making a fine recovery—and he once more headed into Crowley’s bedroom.

Crowley had rolled over, and now sprawled on his back, sleeping soundly. He’d apparently kicked a bit, too, as the blanket had slid down past his stomach. Aziraphale smiled as he set the tray on the chair he’d brought in some months ago and got to work.

“It’s wonderful to see you again, dear,” he started cheerfully, carefully rearranging the objects on the little bedside table. “I have a few things for you again, I hope you don’t mind.” Just enough space to slide the mug and the little plate. Perfect.

“I received a package from Tadfield again. Everyone wrote a note and then gathered them all together, really quite clever. They’re all doing well, if a bit bored.” The table was nearly overflowing with little items now, brought in by Aziraphale to cheer the place up. Framed pictures of their human friends, quarantining with their families, clustered in one corner so tightly you could hardly see them anymore.

He pulled the latest out of the shopping bag. “Anathema has started a garden,” he explained, pausing to show the photograph to Crowley’s sleeping form. It showed the witch, kneeling outside her little cottage, working on growing several rows of herbs. “I got the impression she was off to a rough start, but she hopes to send us some mint in the next package. Although Newt warned me not to expect too much, as they’d already forgotten which patch is mint and which is oregano.” He set the picture with the others, and slid the potted tulip alongside it. “I’m sure she could use some advice from you, when you’re ready to share.”

“Nnnnh.” Aziraphale spun eagerly, but no, just Crowley shifting in his sleep again, rolling onto his side.

The angel paused to pull the duvet back up to Crowley’s chin, tugging it straight and smoothing a hand down his back. In a way, his friend was nearly unrecognizable, with that hair and ridiculous beard, but in another way looked the same as ever. That was always Crowley’s way, of course, constantly changing yet somehow always the same.

He lingered, taking in the shape of that face, leaning close, lips hovering above his cheekbone—

Aziraphale pulled back, quickly digging into his bag again. “Oh! Ah, the, um, the children have been making projects for their art class. This past month was sculpture, and they sent us some. Look!” He pulled out four little figures of oven-baked clay. “Ah, young Wensleydale has made a very clever model of a train car. Brian’s is…abstract.” He turned the next a few different ways. “And Pepper’s is, ah, either a very complex symbolic representation of the Patriarchy, or…a troll, I think.” They just fit on the edge of the table, all in a line, a very mismatched tableau. The fourth, on the end, was the best, in Aziraphale’s opinion. “Adam made a little Dog, and it’s very well done, don’t you think?” The canine figure posed with one leg raised and head cocked, ready to play, but the shadow it cast was just a little too large, too ominous, for such a small creature.

With a sigh, Aziraphale shifted the row this way and that. “I sent a letter to Warlock, over in America, but haven’t heard back since Christmas. I believe they’re very busy with something. Politics. You know how it is.” When the Dowlings had left England, they’d planned to return for a visit the following summer. A global pandemic had had other ideas.

“In any case, that just leaves Tracy and Shadwell. I understand he’s decided to hate the concept of literacy this month, so no word on how his war with the squirrels is going. And Tracy has declared she will spend the summer making a fairy garden. I thought her sketches looked very promising, and she promised to send us an update in June. I’m sure you’ll find it charming.”

“Hrrrrm.” Crowley sank under the duvet, nestling down a little deeper. Aziraphale smiled, settling into the chair with his plate and mug.

“Things are loosening up again,” he explained, taking a bite of cake. Delicious, if he said so himself. Sharp and not too sweet. “People are getting vaccinated, shops opening up. It’s really a lovely breath of fresh air, at least when you’re not wearing a mask.” A long sip from his mug, then he held it, fingers tapping. “It’s been nice walking through the park again, just in time for the baby ducks. And that record shop at the corner, they’ve had some wonderful new additions. Which reminds me.”

Putting aside his mug, Aziraphale dug through the bag again and pulled out a handful of square plastic cases. “They had a whole shipment of those little records the Bentley likes. Modern music. I picked out the ones with the rudest names. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them.” He pulled out the first disc and placed it atop Crowley’s phone. The device blinked in confusion a few times, then obediently copied all the music.

“Of course, it’s not all good news.” He stacked the rest of the discs atop the phone and returned to his tea. “Reopening means the customers are coming back. Yesterday, this one individual spent almost an hour browsing the same three shelves. And then he tried to make off with one of my books.” Another long sip. “Granted, he offered to pay, but still. What sort of establishment does he think I’m running?”

Aziraphale paused, waiting for Crowley to respond, not that he ever did. The demon’s eyelids moved a little, but no more.

Sighing, Aziraphale turned to his muffin. “You know, many times in the last year, I’ve wished you were there. Particularly during reopening phases. You could have posed as a customer, and then I’d be able to tell people I was at the capacity limit. Oh, and the people who would call to try and buy my rarest books. Collectors, or so they claimed, but then they just turn around and sell to anyone for twice the price! I’m sure you’d have some biting things to say about such people.” He smiled at Crowley’s sleeping face. “I’ve missed that, and your jokes. Rather more than I expected to.”

When his plate and tea were finished, Aziraphale set them on the floor and reached again into the bag. “Now, I have been attempting to teach my computer how to use the internet. I think it’s going quite well. Adam and his friends gave me a ‘homework assignment’ to find articles on recent news events, and I made the most wonderful discovery. Did you know that humans now share their news through humorous pictures? I printed out my favorites to show you.”[3]

He flicked through a few. “Ah, to start with, a few months ago there was this American politician with amusing mittens who showed up everywhere for a few days. It was extremely droll.” He leaned closer, holding them up for Crowley to see. “Ah, a few more from America. The murder hornets arrived, though by that point everyone had forgotten them. The election became increasingly confusing, and it all ended in a parking lot. For a little while everything was ‘This-or-That Total Landscaping,’ and before that everything was cake.” He showed a few extremely clever illusions. “I did try to make my own, but couldn’t manage it without miracles, which I felt was cheating.”

Really, leaning like this was starting to strain his back. Aziraphale shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, the better to share his pictures. “Ahhh. Also for a time everyone’s calendars were stuck on ‘March.’ And then earlier this year, a group of people learned how the stock market works, but sadly not how to spell it. The whole situation seemed very much like the sort of thing you’d be involved in. And…Oh, this angel from a television show was sent to Hell for…reasons.” He glanced at the shape beside him. Crowley had curled in slightly, pressing against Aziraphale’s back. “Yes. Various reasons. And then this musician, I suppose, went on his own. Both had many people extraordinarily upset.”

The next few images would really tickle Crowley, if he could actually see them. “The biggest news is that a large ship got stuck sideways in that canal in Egypt. Stopped half the world’s shipping for a few days while they dug it out! I’m sure you would have liked that very much. Exactly your sort of trouble. The humans were all very excited.”

The final photo was another of the ship, an image Aziraphale had made himself, printing out a blank version and writing on it in felt-tip pen. The hull of the enormous ship was labeled, “An eternity putting up with the tedious bureaucracy and frequently conflicting commands of my superiors until I begin to doubt my own judgement and sanity,”[4] while the small digger working steadily beside it was “Crowley.”

Aziraphale watched the demon beside him, not really expecting a reaction, certainly not getting one. He reached over, brushing brilliant hair back from Crowley’s forehead. “I think you’d have had rather a lot of fun last year. Or perhaps you’d have been upset you could only watch from a distance. Or…”

He’d leaned much closer than he’d intended, hovering just above Crowley’s forehead.

“Well!” Aziraphale stumbled to his feet. “I suppose that’s just about everything.” He picked up the tray from where he’d rested it on the floor, starting to re-load it with everything he’d brought in. Crowley’s cake and tea sat untouched, as always, but Aziraphale wouldn’t dream of skipping them. “We’re all very optimistic for the summer. Two months and everything should be just…just tickety-boo. Perhaps we can go for that picnic soon, if…yes…”

They’d made such plans for 2020. All the things they would do now they were free. Plans, and other thoughts carried in their minds, possibilities that would play out in their own time. Not too fast, just a slow, steady exploration of everything they could be…

“Well. Pleasant as that idea is, best not to—to plan too much, as the previous year made fools of us all. I just…” He turned away from the tray and watched Crowley sleep, hands clasped before him. “I miss you terribly. And I wish…very much…”

He picked up his shopping bag. One item still inside. The same one he’d been carrying for months, trying to find the courage to bring it out.

With a shaking hand, he reached in and drew forth a soft hand-made doll. He’d spent much of the winter on it. Simple white cotton for the head and body, wooly curls for the hair, and stiff white lace for the wings. Dressed in waistcoat and bowtie made from Aziraphale’s favorite tartan.

He still wasn’t sure why he brought it. He’d stitched several little toys, particularly a lovely black-and-red serpent with gold button eyes that had watched him from the sofa since November. But this, for reasons he couldn’t articulate, this one was for Crowley.

“I, ah…” He shuffled closer, doll clutched in both hands. “I made, um…” Back to the edge of the bed, one hand fumbling across the duvet. “…thought you might like…”

Crowley’s face stood out in stark contrast to the pillow, pale skin and bright hair. Aziraphale wanted to drink it in, memorize every detail, to hold him over until next month. The curve of his nose, the sharp angle of his cheekbones. His lashes flickering as his eyes moved. His lips, pursed ever so slightly…

“Bless it, Angel, are you going to kiss me or not?”

Aziraphale gasped, pulling back from the bright gaze of slit-pupil eyes. “You—you’re awake!”

“Nnnh. Half.” Crowley shifted, head moving across the pillow, eyes threatening to shut again. “Wouldn’t miss your visit.” One hand reached out, plucked the doll from Aziraphale’s unresisting fingers. “For me?”

The angel nodded. “If…if…you like it…or I could—I could just…”

Without a word, Crowley pulled the doll under the duvet and curled up, tucking it under his chin, a faint smile on his lips.

“If you were awake you—you should have said something! I’ve been going—going off like a fool all this—oh!” Aziraphale could feel his face turning hot as he recalled a few times his tongue had been a bit too loose for propriety.

“Mmmmmh.” The golden eyes were shut again.

“Crowley?” No response. “Crowley!” Aziraphale scowled. “Anthony J. Crowley, if you’ve fallen asleep again, I swear, I’ll—”

He’d do what? The angel fumed, but what could he really threaten? To stay away? Never.

“Alright then, I suppose I’ll see you in June. I’ve had several new requests for extremely rare manuscripts and I need to go pen some responses reprimanding these vultures for their cheek. I can—”

“You can stay.”

He spun around. Crowley had one eye barely cracked open. Gently, he pulled back the duvet, showing there was just enough space for Aziraphale beside him.

“I…I couldn’t.” But he stepped forward, not back. “I have business tomorrow, things to—”

“Just tonight then.”

His fingers brushed the mattress and pulled back as if burned. “You—you don’t really mean this, you’re just talking in your sleep.”

“Nah.” Crowley settled the doll by his pillow, making space. “Why else would I give you my key?”

“I…to…water the plants?”

“They take care of themselves.” Crowley held open his arms, eyes shut once more. “I missed you, too.”

Well. What could he say to that?

Aziraphale took off his shoes and slid into bed, into Crowley's arms. They wrapped around him gently as Crowley wriggled closer. “Mmmm. Y’r softer than the doll.”

“Oh.” He’d been called soft many times, generally as a way to imply he was a failure as an angel. But just this once, it made him feel rather pleased. “Soft is good?”

“Verrrry good.” Crowley twisted a bit, trying to find a comfortable way to rest his long limbs, and finally settled curled up against Aziraphale’s chest, tucked below the angel’s chin with a leg hooked over his knees.

The angel smiled. “And you’re…you’re noodlier than a stuffed snake. Err…”

A chuckle, just a stirring of breath across his throat. “Can’t wait to hear the story behind that.” Crowley nuzzled against his shoulder with a sigh. “Good night, Angel.”

Aziraphale swept the brilliant hair back again and bent down, pressing his lips to Crowley’s forehead. A soft, gentle kiss that made his friend smile a little more broadly. “Good night, my dear.”

Crowley drifted off again, burrowing close, as the angel continued to gently tease the back of his hair. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps tomorrow's work wasn't so very urgent. Perhaps a bit of rest would do him good. And perhaps...

Well. Don't plan too much. But for the first time, Aziraphale felt a bit of optimism about the coming summer and its possibilities.

“Sleep well, Crowley.”

[1] Crowley had invented pumpkin spice, and Aziraphale assumed he must like it. In truth, Crowley despised it, and regretted every autumn how it took over the entire world. He missed apple cider season. [2] Aziraphale had suspected since the early 1950s that Crowley secretly took his tea with several lumps of sugar, but would continue to pretend he didn’t know until Crowley confessed. Considering current circumstances, that was unlikely to be any time soon. [3] Aziraphale’s fax machine, revived after over three decades of disuse, had been somewhat confused to be asked to perform any task at all, much less to print memes onto photo paper with perfectly balanced color; but like the plants and Crowley’s phone, it couldn’t stand to disappoint the angel. [4] It was possible he hadn’t quite mastered this new form of communication.

[scarletarosa]

Mephistopheles

One of the demonic gods who serves in High King Lucifer’s kingdom. This information was shared to me by Mephisto and learned through my experiences in working with this fascinating infernal deity.

Other names: Mephisto, Father of All Sophists

Rulerships: persuasion, contracts, and all branches of Law

History: Mephisto began as an Angel serving under the Archangel of justice, Tzadkiel. In the beginning, Mephisto took his work too seriously with regards to bringing justice and became obsessed with delivering it as a prosecutor. When he eventually saw many angels of mercy going against this, he did not understand. If a person had done a crime that required retribution, why would this person be granted another chance? Every person, no matter how low or high they are, must pay for their mistakes. This of course included Mephisto himself, as he did not wish to be exempt from justice. The angels of mercy interfered seldomly at first, but as time went on, they began forgiving larger and larger numbers of people. So while Mephisto was prosecuting some humans, the angels of mercy would set them free. 

Irritated, Mephisto complained to Tzadkiel about this, but the Archangel smiled and said everything was okay. Even more agitated by this response from his commander, these frequent actions of forgiveness towards injustice began to eat away at Mephisto. He also began wondering what his purpose even was anymore since many of those he tried to punish were set free. Because of this, he gradually learned how to make his arguments against people much more convincing so the angels of mercy could not show forgiveness. At some point, Mephisto even began to falsify evidence in order to have some corrupt humans convicted. This went on for a while until Tzadkiel discovered what was happening. Mephisto was then called to give an apology before his commander who then said that “According to the Law, you should be condemned for what you have done. But I forgive you.” However, this action only made Mephisto even more cynical towards justice. He then realized that it’s not your actions that convict you, but whoever happens to be judging you. 

This deeply shook Mephisto’s faith in what he did, so out of spite, he trained a group of humans in ancient Greece to become the Sophists, the first lawyers of history. These people were experts in logic, speech, and entrapment. They gave their services to anyone who paid them a large sum of money, regardless of who their client was. Mephisto had created this particular justice system as a way to have anyone stand a chance in court, even criminals. He had decided that If the angels of mercy were freeing criminals as they pleased, he will have it done in a dishonourable way as an act of spite against celestial justice.

When this was found out, Mephisto was commanded to put an end to the Sophists. But Mephisto replied, “If you all cannot agree with what justice is, neither can I”. Eventually, Mephisto used one of his Sophists to prosecute Socrates over the accusation that he was “corrupting the youth” for being a voice of wisdom. The philosopher was then sentenced to prison and died there after committing suicide. Mephisto was then called forward before Tzadkiel and other Angels to explain himself once again for his actions, but he refused to yield to them, saying “Well where were you? What did you do to protect him? You allowed this noble man to die for no reason. If I was in the wrong, you would have done something; but if I were in the right, it would still cause you to act due to how much you cared for him.” 

Even though he was correct in his statement, this argument targeted his entire chain of command, which did not go over well. They told him to recant (take back what he said) and then they would demote him. But due to his pride, Mephisto refused to allow either, especially since he proclaimed to be doing his job exactly as he needed to be. Mephisto then left heaven and was later recruited into Hell by one of the three High Kings- Lucifer, who gave him the task of a demonic lawyer for the humans of Earth. Mephisto still remains cynical and doesn’t believe in justice anymore. He now only believes in the “justice” a person can buy and also favours making contracts.

Rank: President and Earl

Elements: Strife and Junction

Colours: black with a “v” shape of white (similar to a judge’s outfit)

Appearance: a tall man in his 30’s with pale skin, neck-length black hair, completely black eyes, and black horns (he sometimes does not manifest these). He often wears a judge’s outfit, despite being a lawyer.

Personality: Mephisto is serious, confident, meticulous, determined, astute, shrewd, relentless, patient, intelligent, studious, and is a smooth-talker and master of persuasion. He is a realist with regards to many things and views how plenty of things people view as “moral” are ridiculous (especially Christian values). Mephisto especially hates people who are naïve or tell the truth all the time, even moreso if they feel they are “pure” because of these actions. He claims that lying often has many necessary uses, and being honest all the time only causes problems. Some things that Mephisto likes are innovation, robotics, defending peoples’ rights (as a lawyer), ravens, magpies, the Tower of London (due to all the atrocities that took place here), the backgammon game, classical music, and collecting books.

To understand Mephisto better, one can read the three Faust plays that have been written. All three versions of the Faust story are true accounts of Mephistopheles to a degree, but are a bit dramatized of course. All three versions manage to be true because they are each different perspectives on the account which occurred. For example, Faust did indeed try to repent for making a deal with Mephisto, but he still went to Hell for an appointed period before being set free.

Things he can help with: anything law-related, contract deals, helps in making someone a good lawyer, helps in making someone persuasive

His Enn (for devotion or meditation): Mephisto Viaga Tasa On Ca Sedi

Offerings: sarsaparilla, dry red wine, smoked trout, veal, duck, foie gras, pork tenderloin, eggs, spaghetti, neapolitan pizza, strawberries, figs, apricots, pears, melons, grapes, honeycombs, eggplants, brussel sprouts, oyster mushrooms, ground coffee, dark chocolate, licorice bars, tobacco, law books, canes, votive candles, classical music, candlesticks, rosewood, mahogany, leopardskin jasper, smoky quartz, brown obsidian, and incense of musk + lemon + cinnamon

[obeymeshallwedate-latinplayer]

Chasing the elotero.

No estaba muerta, estaba de parranda. Well, that´s not entirely true… I got an emergency appendicectomy last week, and the university is taking my mind into a chaotic state, so wish me luck.

And I was actually thinking (while I resting in my bed) that it´s been a whole week that I don´t eat an Elote, or corn as you might prefer, but we don´t eat the corn sweet, we don´t put butter on top of it and then eat it. We eat the corn salty, with mayonnaise, cheese, salt, lemon, and of course chile. Sometimes the “Elotero” will come by the street with their car or bicycle ready to spread joy among us mortals. By notorious reasons I can´t eat a good elote, and yesterday Mr. Elotero passed in front of my house and I cried a lot. So what would happen in the seven brothers need to chase the elotero? Welcome my dearest readers to… “Chasing the elotero.” As always the headcanon is Gn!Mc. Enjoy!!!!

[The brothers stayed with Mc, at their home, when the human listen to the most marvelous sound of them all… the squeak of the elotero, but it was way to far away… or that´s what they thought.]

Lucifer:

This man is ready for anything, no matter what, at this point of his life with Mc and his brothers he can stare into the eyes of his father without a piece of fear. Truth to be say, he had this weird hunch deep down his guts screaming at him that he shall not be conffy in the living room, and it wasn´t just for the thousands of religious pictures that were in there… it was something else, something even more dangerous.

After hearing Mc´s scream, he stood up as fast as he could, and only felt the slightly warm of his human… And then… he ran as his life depended on. He obviously gets mad, cse no one drags him out of his comfort zone as the Mc has. After a quick explanation of why the elote is so important, he started to chase the elotero, while Mc screamed the name of the man ridding the bicycle.

They chase the elotero for at least for 3 full blocks, until the man stopped and looked at them all sweaty and nicely apologies to them, after all, he was an old man and his ears were nothing like, compared to when he was young.

Mammon.

As the fastest brother, he at least needed to win this battle… right? It´s the only thing that he can do better than the rest of their brothers but damn, the elotero was way to fast even for him, and taking his demon form wasn’t a good idea, at least not in your country where they could burn down your parents house, because there was a demon in there.

He tried to scream with you the name of the man ridding the bicycle, and he notice that there were more locals of elotes, while you both were running, and he asked you “Why do we chase that man and not eat in other place?” But as good Latin, you told him that loyalty comes first than hunger (This applies to basically everything you can think about: tacos, empanadas etc.)

After 30 minutes of running, finally the elotero stopped and… Mc notice something really important… They didn´t have money with them.

Leviathan.

He will not chase the elotero, he is a shut-in otaku, “Mc… Do you want to kill me?”

He stills don´t understand how he ended jogging behind the elotero, he was so slow that the only thing he could see, was the back of his human, suddenly the gap between him and Mc and the elotero grow bigger and bigger, he just saw how more people started to run with Mc, trying to stop the nice woman ridding the bicycle.

Thy couldn´t make it, Levi almost faint in the street, and Mc carried him back home, next day the third born couldn´t move at all.

Satan.

The strategy was easy, Satan needed to get angry and Mc needed to run as fast as they could into the direction of the elotero so the demon could at least eat that magnificent taste, easy enough. The problem was that for a strange reason Satan couldn´t get angry in Mc´s country.

There was no time for explaining yourself so you took the book he was reading and ran, of course he started to run behind you, you were so close the elotero that you could hear the song, you started to make a sprint, your legs started to hurt but you ignore the pain, and also you ignore the fact that the fourth born was chasing you.

Fortunately, you could not only scape alive from Satan´s anger, but you actually achieve to reach the elotero.

Asmo.

He didn´t run, “Honey, there is no food that is worth the sweat.”

Mc ran alone that day.

Beel.

He knew about the elotero, sometimes in his dreams he could see the bicycle, and even if he hadn´t taste before an elote, he could taste the most magic flavor. So, he was ready for this, he was so ready, he trained himself just for that day.

When you told him what it was finally happening, he leaves the posture he took while playing with your nice and nephew and in a blink, he was in the street chasing the elotero, he was carrying a backpack full of tuppers and money so he could buy everything and eat them without any complication.

He returned alone with his backpack full of corn and he ate it alone.

Belphie.

He chases the elotero, not because he wanted to chase them, nonono, it was because of Beel, their bond is really strong, so he could sense the cravings of his twin, and that didn´t let him sleep. So, he chased the elotero with the MC.

They ran as fast as they could, Belphie almost slide up in a curve, he also almost trip with a rock, the streets had potholes and he didn´t saw one of them. He is wondering how the elotero is actually that fast and agile, he really wants to step in the bicycle and sleep there while Beel is ridding the bike.

They couldn´t reach the elotero, and the both of you got lost in the streets, Mc´s mother and demons went for them.

Let´s learn some Spanish:

No estaba muerta, estaba de parranda: I wasn´t death I was in a party.

Elote: Corn. (Also known as choclo, mazorca etc.)

Elotero: Person that sells corn.

This is the bicycle, usually for elotes, tamales, ice cream, trash, you name it!!

[spellboundspook]

My Dumb ass doing Andy’s apple farm Incorrect Quote cos why not

The new incorrect Quote Generator found by @makerofmadness but i only did Felix and Melody :)

--

Felix: Two brooooos! Melody: Chillin' in a hot tub! Felix: Five feet apart 'cause we're not gay! Melody: Felix: Melody: *tearing up* Felix: Babe, c'mon... Melody: AND HERE YOU REALLY HAD ME THINKING WE HAD SOMETHING. Felix: Babe...

--

Melody: Remember what I told you. Felix: Don’t be a cunt.

--

Felix: What is your favourite mythical story? Melody: The Story Of My Will To Live. Felix: I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before.

--

Felix: Ugh, crushes are so dumb. Melody: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid. Felix: But you’re always acting stupid? Melody: ... Melody: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

--

Felix: What? I'm not aggressive! Melody: Last Tuesday, you wacked me with a pair of crocs and stole my chocolate chips? Felix: Survival of the fittest, bitch.

--

Melody: *walks to cabinet, removes oreo box, takes half a sleeve, throws empty box out* Hi! Felix: Hey- what are you doing-? Melody, shoving an oreo into their mouth: I am saving space :D

--

Felix: What goes up but never comes down? Melody: The amount of stress you're bringing this family.

--

Felix: I am a responsible adult! Melody: *raises brow* Felix: I am an adult.

--

Felix: Watcha doin? Melody: Stealing my neighbour’s cat. Felix: Scandalous. Felix: Can I help?

--

Felix: When life gives you lemonades, make lemons! Life will be all like "whaAttT?" Melody: Life lessons that schools can't teach you.

--

Felix: Melody! Have you no dignity? Melody: Of course not! How long have we known eachother?

--

Melody: Oooh, a train! Felix: We’re in a train station, Melody.

--

Felix: Hey, you want a tarot reading? Melody: Those are Pokemon cards. Felix: You got a magikarp. Melody: ... Felix: It means 'fuck you'.

--

Felix: I have a problem. Melody: If it's harder than 2+2, I can't help.

--

Felix, ordering coffee: I’d like a light roast. Melody: You're kinda ugly.

--

Melody: You’re jealous. Felix: Jealous? Melody: That’s why you were being so negative about this. Felix: That’s absurd. I’m always negative.

--

Melody: Could you be anymore annoying? Felix: Yes.

--

Felix, admiring a sleeping Melody: You’re so cute. Melody, sleepily: I could beat your ass. Felix, lovingly: I know.

--

Felix: Fellas, I gotta know for science. Is the opposite of red green or blue? Melody: Technically a mix of green and blue? Felix: So blurple. Melody: That's implying you're mixing blue and purple. Felix: Would you rather have fucking bleen? MOTHERFUCKING GRUE? Melody: You were confusing before but now I'm scared.

--

Felix: I’ve been sleeping so little the past few nights that when I go to the alarm app, I click on the “power nap” button. I don’t set up alarms, I set up timers, Melody.

--

Melody: You spent all our money on THIS?? Felix, putting tiny raincoats on ducklings: They live outside. They need this.

--

Melody: When I met you I thought you were a real bitch. Felix: What changed your mind? Melody: Oh, I still think you’re a bitch, I’ve just grown to like that about you.

--

Melody: You’ve got to learn to love yourself. Felix: But don't you hate yourself. Melody: Yeah, but this is about you. Stay focused

--

Felix: Here are two pictures. one of them is your room, and the other is the garbage dump. Melody: *points at a picture* That one is the dump. Felix: tHEY'RE BOTH YOUR ROOM!

--

Felix: We all have our demons. Felix, grabbing Melody: This one’s mine.

--

*Felix and Melody playing minecraft* Felix: Oh no, oh no, oh no- Melody: What’s wrong? Felix: I did a thing. Melody: You regret the thing you dID- Felix: *screams* Melody: What the fuck did you do- *sees mass of aggravated Piglin* Damn it- Felix: *screams again*

--

Felix: I can't believe you've done this..... Melody: I'm sorry I didn't know-! Felix, on the verge of tears: YOU CAN'T JUST BUY ME A GIFT OUT OF NOWHERE NOW I FEEL LIKE A HUGE ASSHOLE!

--

Felix: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt? Melody: Melody: Why are you eating dirt? Felix: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

--

Melody: Dammit, you ruin everything! Felix: You're welcome.

--

Melody: The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was changing their name to Felix.

--

Felix: Italics. Felix: Yeah, Italians.

--

Melody: What are you eating? Felix: You wouldn't like it, it's really salty. Melody: I like you, don't I?

--

Felix, looking at their reflection: Now, that's rubbish. Who's that supposed to be? Melody: Well, that's you. Felix: Me?! Is that what I look like? Melody: You don't know? Felix: Busy day.

--

Melody: What’s the dumbest thing you believed as a child? Felix: That naptime was a punishment.

--

Felix: Melody, is that legal? Melody: When there's no cops around, anything's legal!

--

Felix: :) Melody: >:( Felix: Turn that frown upside down! Melody: ):< Felix: Not sure what I was expecting...

--

Felix: Why aren’t you sleeping? Melody: I’m to busy plotting your murder to sleep, Felix. Felix: Melody: ...The nightmares. Felix: *wrapping their arms around Melody* Awwww, sweetie-

--

Felix: Why's it called an oven when you of in the cold food and you of out hot eat the food? Melody: ...What???

--

Felix: *sees someone doing something stupid* Felix: What an idiot. Felix: *realizes it's Melody* Felix: Wait, that's MY idiot!

bye tumblr that is all

*fuck goes to sleep cos its 12:10 and their sleepy*

[nobody-knose--archive]

i’ve been aching to commentate spirit phone’s commentary for ages. glad i finally got around to it, this was an ejoyable experience. liveblog below the cut

-i'm like half certain i've heard this commentary before. maybe not the whole way through & it was probably actual years ago

-nice hearing stuff like this. in-depth personal view of the album-making process. makes it seem like more of a real thing i could do myself someday

-neil cicierega real person momence

-i could probably go real in depth about neil cicierega/tally hall parallels specifically concerning like. the arc of their musical careers. but i won't, here

-wild how i legitimately don't care much about micheal jackson

-didnt we get a bunch of spirit phone stems from the needlejuice release/his patreon? we could probably hear the funny track he speaks of here in that

-i love hearing musical artists, especially neil cicierega, talking about the meanings of their songs. like, not only has this song been claimed to hell & back by the tumblr gays, but with later ones i just can't see where he gets these ideas from. also, claiming there's any one meaning or plot to a song just seems silly to me

-shoutout to neil reusing a midi from like, 1998, that he made at 12 years old, whose entire melody was reused for the main verses of everybody loves raymond. loved finding that out on my own 2 years ago. now it's common trivia in this fandom. not bad times

-it'd be neat if neil did individual trans tracks here like he did with view monstel, those things are half of why i consider it my favorite album

-it's a lot easier to ignore the creator's intended meaning behind a song when he can't even remember it. thanks neil

-seesaw effect

-and there's my joke all but 1 of my followers wont get. moving on

-what kinds of movie theater lobbies has neil been to where there are arcade machines. i mean im not one to talk but that does sound rather strange

-why do songs' titles even need to be taken from the lyrics. ive never seen that as any sort of requisite. it's like titling any form of prose you can just give it whatever name ya like

-"this part sounds pretty cool right"

-is neil's vocal range only mildly better than mine? with training i could change that

-oh i haven't processed any of the last 25 seconds hold on

-god. a shit ton of vocal modification in this song. it's like neil returned to his roots but with quality this time

-i, as an ace/aro, have never related more to an allohet guy in my life. what is the point of eyes!

-professional humming/whistling takes skill. it's different from the recreational or casual stuff. i'd know

-there's a name for the way sound (especially music) gets distorted when moving past you and i can't remember it but it's probably what neil's referring to here in the way he recorded the intro

(- update: it's the doppler effect no need to tell me cas already did)

-as someone who hasnt seen the rugrats or take me there by blackstreet i'll just say it sounded like a bouncy music box melody. nice to hear a song that messes with the typical scales though. lydian & diatonic.

-that's a rather specific thing to be glad about, but given what he talked about in his last full audio commentary about the jew harp i suppose i'm not surprised

-i know that tmbg song now. listened to it & saw the music video too. yep they're different alright

-where the hell does neil get all these instrumence from anyway

-huh. hadnt heard this part of the commentary before making my oc concerning this song but i like to hear neil's approval concerning part of my interpretation

-i love how ive heard a billion different tellings of this mellified man story from lem dem fans talking about this song and neil's is by far the wildest

-good god that does only make it worse neil

-i love making liveblogs of lemon demon albums. with the fullerenes or tally hall i cant name a specific dude to take out my woes on generally but with lemon demon i can just say neil all the time. i like being on a casual first name basis with this dude ive never interacted with once ever

-is sweet bod the one other than cabinet man with a demo in the bonus tracks? i forget

-holy shit the boston molasses disaster someone call up soapy if it doesnt already know, it'd love this

-two thousand nine. god i miss the fiddle solo. the ver with it is truly the best one

-he pronounces it jeff? i've always read it as gef with a hard g. that's what i get for knowing words that are never spoken aloud

-that's a fun meta interpretation of this ghost story that's over a century old. i like that

-i've noticed neil generally does the same synths across a whole album. it's especially more clear in the earlier ones, and does mean i occasionally mix up songs between clown circus & live from the haunted candle shop

-ah! ancient aliens! my least favorite track on this album. i cant even claim to have the least interest in a popular one i've just generally not liked this one much from the beginning. so im curious to see what neil's got to say, i think ive been in ~new commentary zone for a while now

-anyway. newest update on the loolin not realizing a song's funky time signature front: i think this one's in 6/4. or at least switches a lot between time signatures. granted i dont listen to it very often for the reasons stated above

-see the way neil describes it. eldritch horror upon being visited by the unknown at a time when humanity'd hadn't even yet had a chance to imagine such a thing occurring. should be right up my alley. but the sound itself & many of the lyrics simply turn me away.

-must i specify i don't dislike it? spirit phone is neil's best album it not being my favorite doesn't mean i think it's bad yadda yadda nobody should be surprised by this it's not like anyone in these fandoms reads my liveblogs <3

-granted i think this is. the first bit of spirit phone content i've made on my blog ever. so who knows things can change <3

-the transitions in spirit phone are much less view-monster transition tracks & more extended outros. view-monster's were a bit more intro than outro sure but they also seemed directed upon making a 2-way rather than 1-way bridge between tracks. or something like that

-.............soft fuzzy man is an incredible nickname for a cat. i'd steal that if i werent afraid of introducing my relatives to lemon demon

-jirls

-an underlying metaphor is good enough. the literal side of the lyrics are fun. nothing but agreement here neil my good man

-the transition into as your father i expressly forbid it from soft fuzzy man is the best one in this album

-buddy you ask if a musical idea has been used before odds are the answer is yes in this day & age the question is has it been used in the way you're using it. like sure this soul jazz record from the 60s that was sold out in kansas stores for a week used this bassline that youve found yourself copying. but seeing as youre using it in some angsty garage rock ballad type tune does anybody actually care

-doesn't everybody like to say things in an unhinged manner from time to time

-imagine having a guitar dad, i say, with my dad being a folk accordion/fiddle dad, which is infinitely worse in every way

-i think he was in an actual folk band at some point. idk the 90s were weird

-iron my life?

-m-more intimate? there are a lot of ways i'd describe this song but intimate isn't one of them. granted as your father is negatively intimate so from there i guess you've got nowhere to go but up

-...still glad to see his interpretation kinda supports my oc at least

-the way he says characters in songs shouldn't worry about death really strongly makes me think this is some sort of. thematic continuation of stuck from dinosaurchestra, even if there's no real death in there. interesting. would also mean that the dad from these past 2 songs is named carlos betty (no last name)

-i literally never assumed this was a flute solo. piccolo at best. it's pretty clearly a recorder

-my mom plays the recorder. i wonder if she can play recorder better than neil cicierega

-we can throw a party in honor of the crushing weight of responsibility! i simply won't be the one throwing it because i have enough on my plate already <3

-what the hell does "a sense of intent" mean

-i've never heard rush before however i disagree with neil's understanding of 6/4. 6/4 is meant to have emphasis (onbeat or another term i can't remember) on the 1st & 4th beat of every measure, which is greatly different from a measure of 4/4 then a measure of 2/4. it's why his 5/4 always sounds weird, because while it's recognizable in sequences of 10/4, it's more 2 measures of 4/4 with one of 2/4 tacked on the end. that's also how it's different from 3/4. i don't know much music theory but what i do understand i will fight to the death about

-"canonized" that's. a very interesting term to use when referring to a former president

-from now on i will interpret every love song directed at some unseen "you" to be inviting me to marry them for tax purposes. thanks neil for being an aromantic icon

-ah hell yes hell yes man-made object is my favorite goddam song on this album

-short & sweet & good damn vibes. neil's thoughts on it all are only making it better

-wild how he uses very few vocal effects for a song that he clearly is straining his vocal range for. go off neil

-the qualifier of man-made is a wonderful thing. oldest or biggest thing? oldest or biggest man-made thing? what a incredibly important specification. a world of possibilities lie between the two. oh i love it

-just gets me thinking yknow! what we consider weird/impressive in another species, in our own species- what kind of equivalent to that would there be from an outsider looking in? are there alien versions of the significances we place upon things, that we could never imagine? the limits of the human imagination mean we could never conceive of something else in the world that isn't, in some way great or small, just like us- and are we wrong for thinking that? such a juicy topic i wish there were a name for it because it's kinda hard to explain concisely

-spiral of ants. my second favorite song from this album, in fact. a good one to experience

-the vocals are just another instrument. they really truly are. i wasn't going into this commentary expecting to feel solidarity for neil cicierega in this chili's tonight on more than one occasion but here i am.

-like, his whole stance on interpreting songs is something i agree with almost entirely. you can take it at face value, you can dig to their very depths, you can listen to songs without caring what the lyrics mean whatsoever, and those are all fun. & yeah while any of these people can be annoying as one of the types who enjoys gliding on the surface more than anything i find those who dedicate themselves to figuring out the whole meaning of a song over anything else to be both slightly scary & slightly annoying <3 keep up the good work

-i want to make songs for my siblings the way neil makes songs for his sibling(s)

-spinch

-neil really shouldn't be allowed to be this funny like this whole album youre thinking golly! he's just a normal man this neil cicierega! and then he starts listing the cat hacks jokes & you remember he's had ridiculously consistent viral success with all his humorous endeavors and holy shit it's neil cicierega in action talking about his music. god bless you neil

-you're welcome, no problem, my pleasure. good eveternoon, radio audience!

[ladyartemesia]

▨ Lady Artemesia’s Milestone Message and Milestone  Fic Preview ▨

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Dear Mutuals and Followers,

When I started this blog nearly six months ago(ish?) I never expected to fall so in love with the lovely people in this community. You have been wonderful and supportive and I have truly enjoyed getting to know you, and talking to you, and loving BTS proudly alongside of you. Thank you for every moment, I have so many truly incredible moots - ALL of whom are SIGNIFICANTLY cooler than I am - and if I attempted to list you all, my perpetually scattered brain would no doubt forget someone and I’d have to fall apart dramatically about it. So...to all of you - thank you for following me. I am so bloomin thrilled that you do. To my amazing mutuals - each and every one of you are brilliant creators and supportive members of our community and I benefit every day from the art and positive energy you bring to my dash. Thank you so much...

to my hearts... 

There are a few of you who have been much closer than others and you I must recognize with only these inadequate words...

I utterly adore you. Thank you for being my friend.

▨ Amazing Ana @xjoonchildx​  ▨ Wonderful Lindy @ppersonna​ ▨ Sweet Sunshine Donna @taetaewonderland​ ▨ My First Friend and Angel Jahni @glossyfever​  ▨ Fabulous Lemon @lemonjoonah​ ▨  and my fellow Thirst Queen Reese (there is a line in this fic I wrote just for you - you’ll prolly know right away) @luxekook​ ▨

Honestly there are many more names I could put on this list, Many more people I have grown close to and I will continue to grow close too - believe me when I say - I luv and appreciate you all, but there are 7 members of BTS and these 6 ladies are - in many ways - my “other 6.” The roles they have played in my growth as a writer and a creator have been significant. They read my work, encourage me, hype me up, share my finished products, and - most importantly - share their friendship. I am blessed to be a part of their world.

Thank You All... My Lovlies...

- Viola

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Heart of the Storm

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• FIC PREVIEW •

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Genre: Fluff • Smut • Hint of Angst • Secret Feelings/Strangers to Lovers

Word Count: 4kish (preview 1kish)

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort • Hints of Classism • JK is Soft and Strong (full fic has more warnings)

Rating: Explicit/18+ (for the full fic)

Summary: Jeon Jungkook is the handsome RA that you could never quite bring yourself to talk to, and you are the ice princess whose status kept you far out of his reach... But a selfless act of kindness in the midst of a terrible storm forges an unexpected bond between you - one that could break your guarded heart... or finally set it free. 

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This is the song JK sings...

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You’re afraid of storms. 

Born to privilege (at least so you’ve been told), but money could not buy the love of absent parents, nor could it purchase any sort of freedom from the kind of fear that gripped you now. 

You shouldn’t even be here...

Alone in a dorm while everyone around you caught planes and trains and buses back to their diverse points of origin. 

The girl who usually slept in the bed across from yours is your roommate and  best friend since sophomore year of high school. She was a scholarship case at the elite private prep where the obscenely wealthy dynasties of Southern California sent their entitled spawn. 

A lone pair of Chuck Taylors in a sea of Jimmy Choos.

And a breath of fresh air.

Her father worked in stores; your father owned them. Yet you had become sisters in the truest sense of the word.  

When the storms came, she climbed into your bed and held you till the thunder died down. 

But she and the comfort of her familiar embrace were 30,000 feet above you now; well on the way to celebrate the spring holidays with her chaotic tribe. 

You could have escaped for the week - like the majority of your peers - but your father was on vacation with his new wife (who graduated from high school a mere four years before you did) and the dorms were infinitely more inviting than the sterile halls of your family’s real estate holdings. 

So here you were. 

Alone in a storm.

Or so you thought...

Being an RA looked good on resumes and paid better than most work study jobs, but for Jeon Jungkook, the obligation to stay in the dorms over spring break (when he could be chasing music festivals along the California coast) was a definite downside. 

He heard the sobs on his way up from the laundry and dropped the basket of clean clothes on the stairs. 

Only one person signed up to stay over the holidays - the only person who managed to spark shivers down his spine without effort or awareness. 

The princess. 

That’s what they called you when they thought you weren’t listening - an unoriginal label laced with jealousy and petty bitterness. 

But it fit you, nonetheless. 

Elegant even when you were clumsy. Distant even in a crowd. Reserved in ways that spoke of intensive social training and endless expectations. 

And you were screaming. 

His hand wrapped around your doorknob in a matter of seconds, but you could not hear him calling out to you over the thunder and the ringing in your ears. 

You did not hear the lock splinter when he slammed his body against the frame like his father taught him to do in case of a fire or an emergency.

Jungkook saw you often in and out of the dorms - yet you never really spoke to him, never offered him more than the occasional pleasantry or disinterested smile. 

He was out of your orbit and you were out of his league. 

But the princess was nowhere in sight now...

Now you were just a terrified girl curled up on her bed and Jungkook felt his heart wrench painfully at the sight of you so untethered. 

You could not see him - even though he stood right in front of you. It wasn’t till his hands connected with your shoulders that you finally registered the presence of another human being and slowly brought your eyes up to meet his.

There was a moment of silence as your gazes melded together in a strange intimate haze unlike anything either of you had encountered before. 

Then you reached out - curling your hand into the loose fabric of his shirt as you yanked him down on top of you. 

“Please,” you whispered into the firm plane of his chest, “please hold me.”

Strong muscled arms wrapped around you.

And for the first time in so very long...

You felt safe.

He smelled like fresh laundry and a hint of vanilla.

But oh...

He felt like home.

Not the many houses you grew up in - but a home. The kind you only ever heard of.

“It’s ok,” he whispered, lips pressed intimately to the sweet softness of your hair, “I’ve got you.” 

Thunder shook the room again and you burrowed impossibly closer to him, too frightened to notice that you wore only a t-shirt and nothing else, too terrified to care that the haven you sought was the beautiful man you passed by countless times in last few months, but could never quite work up the courage to speak to. 

Now your body tangled desperately with his, drawing immeasurable comfort from his solid warmth and the soothing circles he traced over your back. 

Jungkook was profoundly aware of both your state of undress and the soft curves of your body pressed insistently against his own, but that awareness paled in comparison to the fierce wave of protectiveness swelling up within him. 

You were no damsel in distress. You were brilliant, beautiful, and president of the self-defense club. He’d seen you flip a linebacker over your shoulder like a pancake during a demonstration once (which had given him an immediate boner for reasons he deliberately never explored).

But right now - right here - in this moment - you needed him... and holding you close - keeping you safe was the only thing on his mind. 

The tremors came and went sporadically as the storm raged on around you. His arms were an anchor each time the fear threatened to sweep you away. 

It took a few minutes for your scattered senses to identify the new sound braiding hypnotically in between the rolls of thunder and the rhythmic cadence of your own breathing. 

Jeon Jungkook was singing to you. 

Another time it might have amused you to consider that a man whose face and form bordered on sinful possessed a voice that was utterly angelic. The notes he sang curled through the air, piercing effortlessly past the fog to wrap over your heart like a warm blanket. 

“I see you getting sad... I see it running through your blood...”

Your muscles began to relax. The pounding in your chest began to slow. 

“Let it run like water out of mud...”

Your breathing gradually evened out.

“Yell the sadness loud... Throw it up against the wall...”

Sensation crept back into your limbs. Awareness returned. 

“See what stays then go and put it on... It keeps you warm…”

And suddenly you were in his arms - truly in his arms for the first time that night. 

“I will love you anyway with all your demons in the way… Nothing can keep us apart...I walk through walls into your heart…”

His warmth was everywhere. The gentle comfort he brushed over your skin swirled around you till the sound of the storm faded away. 

Till there was only him. 

“I don’t mind… I don’t mind… I don’t ...mind…”

He felt the change in you, the incremental return from disconnected terror to tentative presence of mind, but you made no move to disentangle yourself, content to let his touch and his voice chase away the last trace of your nightmare. 

You would stay in this moment - safe and surrounded and so unexpectedly content - forever if you could. 

Jeon Jungkook had found you adrift and pulled you back from the edge. He’d done what no one else could..

What no one else (save your best friend) had even bothered to try.  

And he’d done it selflessly.  

As a corporate princess, you were worth millions in assets, but so often left begging for pittance when it came to genuine care. 

You would have paid millions to be held like this just once. 

The adrenaline raging through your body finally began to dissipate, and in its immediate wake, exhaustion crashed over you heavy and hard. 

Sleep tugged insistently at the corners of your mind, but one last coherent urge burned so brightly that it could not be ignored or overtaken. 

Your fingers twisted into the thick curls at the nape of his neck, drawing him down till you felt the soft press of his lips against your own. 

You had never kissed like this; intimately - languidly - as if the brush of his mouth against yours was familiar across worlds and lifetimes. The small intake breath before he gave in to your gentle exploration was the loveliest sound you had ever heard. 

He was the song that drew you - not like a siren to your doom - but like a lighthouse to the shore. 

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FULL FIC POSTING TUESDAY 6/30

COMMENT ON THIS POST IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST

Ask My Muse: Have a question for the characters in this work? Send it to my ask box and hear their side of the story.

Endnote: Please let me know what you think so far? Theories? Ideas? Anything really... Feedback is really the only compensation I will ever receive for producing this content. I swear I treasure each word like the gold. 

Masterlist: I got more where that came from...

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[middleinthenight21]

With the heart in his hands

Credits and dedicated to @deep-in-mind67  Thank you for your art and Malik! I hope you like it and @ravenfan1242 so beautiful and kind. 

Stay safe and fight for justice. 

He had heard stories about fatherhood, men looking with love at their children, feeling that they had gained a precious treasure, could change their lives forever. They promised that they would protect them, it was like a roar inside, something beautiful and unexpected and they would never be the same again. It marked a before and after.

Damian never had that. His mother was a murderer, a cold-eyed woman who was used to every day being a struggle. A part of him assumed that she had loved him in a twisted and dominant way. She loved him the same way you treat a valuable object, she worried when he strayed from the path they had carved out for his life, and his grandfather was a man who put himself in a high position, always forcing him to look up and disguising his dominance and control under discourses on belonging and devotion. Damian thought it was the best he had and if he ever faced the world it would be for Ra's Al Ghul, they both left him at some point in his childhood. Then, his father came, who is someone who dedicated his life to a city consumed by crime and corruption, lived in an eternal search for justice that consumed everything around him, including his own family. thought it was the best he had and if he ever faced the world it would be for Ra's Al Ghul, they both left him at some point in his childhood. Then, his father came, who is someone who dedicated his life to a city consumed by crime and corruption, lived in an eternal search for justice that consumed everything around him, including his own family. Bruce Wayne watches him with love and earns his appreciation, but he will never be his top priority, just as he was not for Talia and Ra’s Al Ghul.

He has never complained about his life. Complaining and lamenting is for the weak, and Damian Wayne would never be either, but he wants to have better references for his son, so he could hold him in his arms without feeling like an idiot.

Damian can maneuver all the weapons in the world, assemble and destroy any object using only his intellect, but his three-week-old baby was different.

He had been gone for two weeks. Just over five days after the birth of his son, as he had to train the new killers for the league, which involved intensive preparation before the new recruits joined the League of the Assassins and he trusted no one but himself, but that had separated him from his family. Two weeks might not be long, yet it was long enough for his son not to recognize him.

Damian knew it, but Raven insisted there were other reasons why he cried when he got close. Still amazed at her ability to do her homework and tend to their son, Raven is caring and dedicated, in a way that makes him envy her and wonder what would have happened if she stayed instead of attending to her duties as head of the League of Assassins.

Looking out the window, the snow falls, and that morning in the Himalayas the wind sounds like the roar of an angry leopard. Damian had had a quiet night. Since it was Raven who took care of the baby by letting him sleep after he appeared last night acknowledging his tiredness, secretly thanking her, since he would not know how to recognize the requests of his son.

He is sitting on the bed drinking tea with a slice of lemon and brown sugar, it is a family drink, but the situation is different. He would be missing fingers to count the times he has had tea looking at the landscape with Raven at his side. They would simply lean against each other in silence, he would be full of secrets and confessions. He had never felt that way with another person, but the space between the two now a new person fills it.

Titus sleeps near the fireplace. Alfred the cat who had been adopted a few months ago was lying a few meters from them, curled up with green eyes fixed on the couple and the baby, as if watching them.

The room is warm, the fireplace is lit with a low fire and looks like an island of warmth in the middle of winter. There is an intricately patterned rug in gold tones that they had chosen together a few years ago, and the bed was comfortable with no exorbitant luxuries. Different from what the Demon Head would be thought to have, but this room in Nanda Parbat was a corner of privacy; no one would disturb them here. There are little memories imprinted on these four walls, secret moments and reminiscent of the engagement ring that they keep in a drawer that they never used. They don't need it, they don't have to wait for white dresses, bouquets and altars.

I don't want a ceremony. Raven had confessed after his proposal and had felt the disappointment and pain hit her face as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown at her refusal. My father played the ceremonies with my mother and ended in evil. I don't need a ceremony, protocol and jewelry, just ... need you, Damian Wayne.

Damian had understood her, her reasons were clear and for a person like Raven with a tragic past involving rituals and ceremonies it was easy to understand her rejection of marriage, it was not a refusal to be together. It was at that moment when the lights were off, her eyes were illuminated by the faint moonlight that appeared from the window and he analyzed the features of his girlfriend and realized that they did not require names or labels. The curtains rose and the room was dark as night lit up, like a new dawn and he swore no one would make him feel this way.

Peril of hope, resonates in his head, but it is only the name of a poem, since this is very real and he would share his entire life with her. It is not an illusion, it is not a promise that was taken by a glow that would change the world, this is their future. They could be two stars that orbit around each other, finding some point in their lives.

There are more hopeless futures.

Damian had lived his entire life with third-party plans for his life. Promising that they would bring out the best for him and put out all his thoughts of having an everyday life. He accepted it and raised his head, like a winner, but everything that surrounded Raven was soft and his life was imprinted with small moments in which he was surprised of himself, of the words that come out of his mouth when they are talking and of the actions that he dedicates. He had become accustomed to being with Raven, now he needs to learn to take care of their child.

Damian wants to be a better father.

"You know I'm empathetic, right?"

Observes his girlfriend. His eyes are fixed on his son, the baby is lying on the bed, on top of a small cloth in a pastel tone and he is amazed at how small he is. He is wearing bluish clothes, a miniature hat that drops dark strands like the tar, his skin is of a golden tone very similar to his; He would like to see aspects of Raven, but he looks a lot like him.

It is puzzling.

Looking at his son leaves him stunned. He can't take his eyes off each time he meets him and wonders how he could conceive of something so beautiful, innocent and pure; It makes him feel like a dirty person when he touches him, because he has taken lives. His life was full of authoritarian figures, how could he be what he deserves?

"I can feel your emotions, Damian Wayne," Raven reminds him. She leans towards the baby; he watches him move his little hands. Squeezes her little finger, holding on as if his life depended on it, and it seems like such an alien scene, he feels like a spy. She makes it look so easy. "It's not easy for me either", she whispers, and Damian is surprised. "Some days I think I won't be able to, that I'm not enough for someone who watches me with so much love and devotion and a person like me doesn't deserve a family" Raven adjusts her clothes. Even if he doesn't need her and the baby moans, but he is silent when he hears her voice and watches her with his eyes wide open, as if something about his mother's face had surprised him greatly "but I have him".

He remains silent.

"I was born with a purpose. It would be a door to destroy worlds. There was no other future for me, and my mother sometimes observed me as a stranger realizing my powers… You know my relationship with my father" She looked away. The baby grimaced and clenched his hands into two perfect fists as if the mention of his maternal grandfather would displease him. She ran her fingers over his palms, relaxing her son's hands, just like she did when she thought he needed to relax. "I feared for many things, but not for this. Not from Malik. "

The name echoed in his head and its meaning could not fit better, his son could be the king of their hearts. Damian had inadvertently given him a part of his heart ever since he learned of his existence.

Raven strokes Malik's small foot covered in a woolen sock "You're afraid".

He crossed his arms. One part yelled at him that this was not the case, but it was no use arguing because it is the truth.

Instinctively he moved to be by her side as if to demonstrate with actions that this was not the case, but it was useless because as soon as his son saw him, he began to complain and his mouth twisted into a grimace that threatened to cry.

He was about to get up and leave, in order not to disturb his baby. All his theories about what he considered a stranger were confirmed, but Raven stopped him with a glance and he remained in his place on the bed as if supported by a rope on the edge of the precipice.

He clenched his fists on the blanket covering the bed and watched as she carried Malik who was crying. The boy twisted in her arms and continued to complain, but now he was silent because he was being breastfed.

Alfred the cat yawns and turns his back on them, falling into a deep sleep.

Damian grimaces, wants to be more helpful and not just sit around not knowing what to do. He brushes her hair away so that she could breastfeed more comfortably. Stroking her shoulders with a massage, and Raven sighs intently at her son when he decides he's had enough.

Malik is looking at him now.

"Hold him" He almost protested, but by then she had already put him in his arms.

His eyes fell on Malik, the baby was looking at him with a frown and he wonders how someone so small can do such a thing. His eyebrows are black and thick, it seems that he was analyzing him, checking if they had a similarity or not.

He's light, barely weighs in his arms, and let’s Raven guide his hands holding his head and back. His hands are big compared to his baby, he was full of calluses and he is afraid to break him from the pressure, he seems fragile and is so small ...

"Just relax".

He lets out a breath, and she abandons him completely, but is looking at him.

Malik is still frowning. For the first time in weeks they look into each other's eyes. His son has green eyes with purple specks, as if two jewels had fused inside his iris and he is giving it different meanings, he invents theories and processes.

This is a different kind of love, one that almost filled his eyes with tears and would travel the world if this being asked him, but he also feels impure, not worthy of his son.

He doesn't deserve it.

"He looks like you," Damian says, wanting to break the order of his thoughts. He concentrates on his slightly bluish hair, it catches the light and turns it into a bluish glow, he wants to think that something so beautiful belongs to Raven and not to him. "He has your features."

She lets out a snort that sounds like tongue-in-cheek laughter, gently runs a hand down the baby's chubby cheek and he tries to capture his fingers to hold on to them.

"You are kidding, right?" Damian does not stop observing the face of his son, but he is listening to her. Trying to find places that belonged to Raven, the shape of the eyes, the subtly upturned nose and the way she clung to someone. "He looks like you", Raven leans closer and leans her head against his shoulder. "Malik has your features and expressions, he frowns just like you, he clenches his fingers into a fist when he feels threatened, he usually growls when he is irritated. He is serious and he has your temperament", she enumerates" Someone help us", she jokes.

Damian smiles to himself, tries to find everything she had said about their baby.

He has his eyes, the elongated shape marked by the lashes is his. Damian recognizes the tan tone of his skin, the eyebrows widened in the middle and he almost seems to see traits of his father that have touched Malik. See’s how his lips twist into a grimace, he has a small mouth and with each babble a dimple is marked on his right cheek.

Raven has no dimples.

How can someone like him make something so beautiful?

"This is our life now." She kisses him on the chin, he almost leans towards the touch of her lips and wonders how he has been able to deprive himself of this for two weeks, he would never have enough. "We can do it" He smiles at her. "Even if we are wrong, we always try to make the best of each other".

His mouth drops open as he watches Malik yawn and close his eyes in his arms preparing to sleep. He fights against unconsciousness as if he doesn't want to miss this moment and almost rolls his eyes with grace to see how he insists on staying awake.

"You have to sleep" he whispers to him. His voice is in a tone that he never hoped to ever use, different from the voices of the authority figures who had ruled his life, it is charged with sweetness and brotherly love. He guides one of his fingers towards his small hands, he clings to his index finger and is strong "You must have had a long day".

Raven smiles placing a kiss on his shoulder.

"A tired day for a three-week-old baby."

He rolls his eyes, prefers to focus on his son who opens his eyes every time they are talking and babbles, as if he wants to participate in the conversation.

"You have to go to sleep, Malik."

The baby closes his eyes, allowing himself to be overcome by sleep, a thread of saliva comes out of his mouth and he smiles. Raven wipes the saliva with a piece of cloth and is laughing.

"I can't believe he has that about you, too."

"What?"

"You also drool when you sleep. Don't worry, I haven't told anyone. "

 "Intelligent" he murmurs.

He gathers his son in his arms, he sleeps with his head resting against his shoulder and feels his breath against his neck. It reminds of someone.

"You do this."

Raven raises an eyebrow as she folds Malik's clothes down onto a piece of furniture. "What?" She asks absentmindedly.

He clears his throat "You hide your head on my neck when we are sleeping, Malik does the same".

A smile appears on Raven's lips and she feels that she is complete.

In his past he never imagined that he would have a partner. That he would be willing to wait for her and give in, fight against the whole world for Raven. He always thought that love is an idea in collective thought, it was a deal, that if he were with someone it would be to get resources or benefits of any kind. He thought that if he had children it would be so that his bloodline would remain.

Here he is years later wanting to share his life with someone beyond contracts. Wanting to burn formalities in front of institutions and authorities, accepting this force of gravity in the form of a person that she was, holding his son in his arms vowing to protect him and would do anything to keep a smile on his child's lips like a deity promise.

"We've had so many wounds and scars," Raven whispers. Their eyes are fixed on Malik and both join their hands, intertwining their fingers. "Sometimes I feel like I will open my eyes and it will be a disaster again."

Damian says nothing but understands her. He feels the same way.

He watches his son, who is sleeping, hiding his face in his neck. His breathing is the flapping of the wings of a bird. He is so small and fragile, his chest rises and he does think that in his life he has performed acts that he has never thought about doing much more now, he leans forward and places a kiss on his forehead. Presses his lips on his forehead, feels how he relaxes in his gesture and finds himself smiling.

Maybe he would live his whole life thinking he didn't deserve this, but he's willing to explore that kind of love that couldn't hurt and makes him feel like a better person. One who would build a family and swears he won't see the same thing that marked him, in his infancy. His Malik, his child in his arms, paints his future in green and purple, just like his eyes.

Raven leans in, sighs against his shoulder and wishes she was nowhere else but here.

[28snails]

Answer 30 questions and tag 20 mutuals you want to get to know better. Thanks for the tag @captainsolocide !

1. Name/Nickname: Clare and I don't really have any nicknames lol

2. Gender: cis woman

3. Star sign: Libra ♎

4. Height: 5'5 (technically I'm like 5'4 and a half but I really don't want to admit it 😬)

5. Time: 12:41 am

6. Birthday: Oct 20

7. Favorite bands: Basically any 70s/80s band I love ABBA, Queen, ELO and Tears for Fears.

8. Favorite solo artists: Al Stewart, Elton John, Hayley Kiyoko, Penelope Scott, I'm sure there's more but I can't think of them

9. Song stuck in my head: Cabinet Man by Lemon Demon

10. Last movie I watched: 2010

11. Last show: Voyager

12. When did I create this blog: at my birthday party in 2017 lol

13. What I post: I don't really post much of my own stuff, I have a couple side blogs that hopefully I'll start posting more on when I have time, but I mainly just reblog fandom stuff on here and since I've been around for a few years it's cycled through a few different fandoms. For the past year or two it's been mostly Star Trek but I'll really post anything about shows I like.

14. Last thing I googled: Caitlin Brown's height lmao 😭 I was looking up the height of every scifi actress I could think of. Turns out everyone on Babylon 5 is taller than me. But I am the same height as Janeway so cheers bro I'll drink to that

15. Other blogs: @natoths it's been sitting around for a while, not sure what to do with it at the moment but eventually I want to start posting art for Trek and B5 and stuff. (This blog can get kind of messy and I post a lot of other stuff so I wanted one that was exclusively for scifi shows)

16. Do I get asks: not often

17. Why I chose my url: I used to change it a lot. I think it used to be bisexuali-tea and then like a year ago I got tired of it; I was looking around my room and I saw a little box I had with snails on it. And the first number I thought of was 27, but that was already taken so I went with 28. I think the only reason I haven't changed it since then is that I have more mutuals than I used to and I don't want to clown around and switch it up all the time lol

18. Following: 447

19. Followers: 82

20. Average hours of sleep: 9 or 10 but wayyy less on school nights

21. Lucky number: don't know if I have one. I think the reason I liked the number 27 is cause I was reading a book about 1927.

22. Instruments: I used to play viola in school. I play a little ukulele and have dabbled in piano and guitar but that's pretty much it

23. What am I wearing: Shirt I got in Mexico with a Maya calendar on it. And no pants because I'm in bed and pants are an illusion

24. Dream trip: I would love to go somewhere in South America. Probably Machu Picchu.

25. Favorite food: I love chicken makhani and also sushi

26. Nationality: American

27. Favorite song: I like a lot of songs! One of my longtime favorites would be Night Train to Munich by Al Stewart

28. Last book read: Good Omens

29. Top 3 fictional universes I'd like to live in: Star Trek, ASOUE (i KNOW something bad would happen to me but VFD is so aesthetically appealing and I'm obsessed with the Netflix series), ATLA

30. Favorite color: it changes a lot but right now I like purple

I tag: @tomvorikandharry @yodelnimrodel @bitch-slap-dukat @bashircore @ford-ye-fiji @clarbage @cptdorkery @goestojupitertogetstupider

and anyone else who wants to, and no pressure if you don't want to do it!

[crowleyellestair]

Hey I hope you're doing okay during lockdown 😊 I read some of your witcher drabbles and I'm in love with your writing! Is it ok for me to request a fluffy blurb? How about an Eskel x fem! reader where reader has really bad nightmares but this time Eskel is there when she wakes up and comforts her? It's okay if you're too busy to write it. Take care xx

AN/// I’m doing fine, sadly work is still just as busy. I hope you’re doing fantastic, and thank you for requesting and for liking my works!!! I had another idea that was still within the prompt, so you’re getting a two for one!!

  There have been only a handful of books that Eskel has read on psychology. Of course, there wasn’t much knowledge on the inner workings of the mind and functions to begin with. He also, despite his age, hasn’t been around women long enough to understand what could be happening. Eskel had been courting Y/n for only a couple of months, but he, along with the rest of the pack, have known her for years. She had helped Geralt find Ciri, and helped bring the kid to the keep. Every year, she was still allowed to come back during the winter despite humans rarely being invited.

They had coincidentally met up in the south near Gulet, and they spent a month together before heading to the fort for the winter. Nights were long as they stayed up either wrapped in conversation or in each other, and that’s how he didn’t notice it. It wasn’t a great thing to have as a witcher, but Eskel was a deeper sleeper. Geralt and Lambert could be roused by the sound of a pin drop, but the brunette would need something closer to an anvil. It’s been only two weeks since he’d first noticed it, and it was eating at him.

Whenever Y/n is ready and settling for bed, there is a new scent around her. He didn’t know what it is about her, but even the stench of her fear didn’t smell like most- like rot. It smelled like burning cake, sweet yet off. This new scent was also just off. It was like limes with the aftertaste of salt, and it lingered on her side of the bed. He hadn’t wanted to involve anyone, but he also didn’t want to be forward or feel ‘pushy’. The witcher asked Vesemir if he’d ever associated an emotion with the fragrance and his answer was shocking. His father figure informed him that limes or lemons were usually associated with nerves, the acidic scent coming from churning stomachs.

Dandelion had also been wintering in the fort, as he often did, and he knew the poet would be willing to help.

“And it’s every night before bed?” The bard was certainly confused, his finders dancing over his lute strings, but still focused completely on the man across the main hall’s table. Geralt had been plopped next to his friend, silently listening.

“Other than nights together, yes.” Geralt smirked but rolled his eyes. Eskel was known as cold to the outside world, but he truly was bashful when it came to himself or personal matters.

“And you hadn’t noticed before?” His hand came up, rubbing the back of his neck before brushing over his cheek for a moment.

“I usually fell asleep before she did. Y/n also wakes up before me. I asked once and she had said she simply had trouble sleeping.” Lambert finally made himself known, his voice bouncing off the walls.

“Maybe it’s that… period thing, like when Ciri first camped and-.”

“You poor soul. Do you really think it’s a year-round- forgive me, month long, event? You are sorely mistaken.” Dandelion’s voice holding a stern tone. Geralt’s hand placed itself on the poet’s shoulder in thanks for trying to keep the conversation respectful, and the younger witcher threw his hands up in surrender.

“I’m just here to grab some crates.”

“Do hurry.” His voice was still stern, and he had a humorless grin upon his face. He knew he’d make it up to the witcher later, but this wasn’t a laughing matter. Both Eskel and Y/n mattered greatly to everyone at the keep, and this was important. Geralt’s brows furrowed before asking,

“Where is she now?” Eskel’s knuckle brought itself to rub over his eye.

“Sleeping.” Dandelion perked up at his answer.

“Does she usually nap while you’re away?” Eskel felt more confused by this train of thought than he was contemplating the situation on his own.

“I bring her on contracts, but usually she does. Though, there aren’t too many instances where we’re apart. I’m not allowed to go to the market alone once she caught on to how people treat us.” Dandelion stopped playing for a moment, his fingers brushing his facial hair. Geralt leaned over, his grip giving a small squeeze.

“What are you thinking?”

“Certain people have bags under their eyes, regardless of sleep, but I think hers aren’t.”

“So?”

“So, I think Y/n’s refusing to sleep. She’s nervous to sleep.” Eskel’s brows furrowed faster than they ever had before.

“What? Why?” The poet wanted to roll his eyes, but he knew this was sensitive. He leaned closer to the table, and tried to soften his tone as much as possible.

“You know what it’s like being plagued by nightmares. Y/n isn’t a witcher, but you know she hasn’t led the best life. She might have been living life to the fullest since you’ve come into her life, but she certainly has specters following her.”  

Eskel had taken what they had talked about, and tried to come up with a game plan. On his way back to his room, thoughts flooded his mind. He wouldn’t wake her from her nap once he got back. Hell, he might even wait till she’s woken up for a while before mentioning anything. He wants her to be comfortable when the topic is broached, and he knew that if they were still in bed, safe from ears (as best they can be) in their own room, then she’d be more open to talk. He won’t mention that the conclusion was a group effort, but he should say that she can go to Dandelion if she isn’t fully comfortable talking to him. Even if he wants to know. Needed to know. Only to be able to make it better, as his heart has been clenched since he first noticed the smell. At first, he thought it was him, but he knew she loved him.

As he approached their room, he heard a heart pounding, and burst through the door. The middle of the bed held a clump under the furs, shaking the whole frame. He approached quickly, throwing the fur to the side. There Y/n laid, arms and legs pressed close to her chest, her whole body shaking as she tried to pull in a breath. Her skin was deathly pale, sweat beading and rolling over her forehead, mixing with the tears that rolled from closed eyes. He started to call her name, but nothing came of it. His hand gently landed on her shoulder, the other cupping itself under her head. He called to her again, louder this time, only to have Y/n shoot to the other side of the bed, her eyes frantically rushing around the room. Eskel placed his knee on the bed, his hand going out as if to sooth an animal. The brunette called out again, and her eyes found his, a fresh wave of tears trying to be blinked away.

“You’re awake now.” His voice was soft in volume, but stern, trying to show that there was power and realism to him. His other arm came up, a silent invitation for a hug being put in place. She blinked at him for a moment before crawling into his arm, her hands fisting his shirt, nose jamming itself into his neck. Soft sobs could be heard, and she began to shake again, though it wasn’t because she couldn’t breathe. He curled himself around her, legs coming to frame hers, a hand going to the back of her head, and the other going over her hand that latched itself onto the collar of his tunic. They stayed there until she was whittled down into small sniffles. “What happened?” It took time for her to answer, but he didn’t press.

“There was a skirmish a year ago near the Pontar. I wasn’t in Vengerberg, but I was close enough when the scorching happened. I had a tent of twenty innocent victims. Not even soldiers. I could only save five.” Y/n was a renounced healer, and it was a miracle she saved even five in their state.

“Is it just them haunting you?” Y/n pulled back a moment to look into his soft, knowing gaze. “I know you don’t sleep when you should.” Her arm that wrapped itself around to his back unraveled and tried to scrub dry tear trails, the remnants starting to itch.

“No. It changes every night.”

“Will you wake me?” Her brows furrowed. “When you wake up from another dream, will you wake me?” The hand over hers clenched harder. “I may not be able to help slay this type of demon, but I don’t want you to suffer alone.” She started to shake her head.

“You don’t have to lose sleep over this.”

“And you shouldn’t have to. But I’m choosing to. I want you to know you can be safe, and that you won’t have to go through things- dreams or experiences alone any longer. I’ll always be here trying to keep you safe.”

It took a little longer to convince her, but she agreed. That night, Eskel once again wrapped himself around her, spilling sweet nothings into her ear. Knowing that she was safe in his arms, her body relaxed, lime nowhere in the air.

-

When Eskel had warned her to watch out, she headed it, but didn’t fully understand why. She chalked it up to some simple aggressive behavior or overbearing angst that didn’t come with a filter. When Letho leaned over the table, lips peeling back into a venomous smirk, whispering to her that his occupation entailed being a King slayer, it fully dawned. This was the witcher that had slipped past Geralt for so long. Eskel’s breathing techniques had been taken further, the brunette teaching her how to rein in her breathing and heartbeat for situations that called for it. Mainly, it was supposed to be used for if a monster somehow slipped past him, and she needed to hide. It wasn’t meant to try and cover her fear if for if a hostile witcher came along. Both she and Eskel knew that Letho was aware of her fear the second she got her heart rate down, despite how quick it and imperceptible it had been.

The lovers moved to the next town quickly and efficiently, but with the baggage of their encounter. Eskel had always kept himself between Y/n and Letho even if they had been sitting. His hand was always on her knee or the small of her back, her figure never leaving his line of sight. Despite these micromovements, Eskel was a right gentleman to the other witcher. While he declined the viper’s inquiry to receive help on the contract Letho had taken up, Eskel did hand him a formula of a lure to get the Chorte out. Despite the wolf’s efforts, Letho had select parting words for him,

“You make bold moves to protect the expendable.”

Y/n all but dragged the brunette out of the tavern, quickly getting him to Scorpion before anything broke out. They had taken measures, acting as if they were taking the trail to the adjacent town, instead cutting through the woods halfway and going deeper south.

The tavern they stopped at had an inn attached, and they decided to stay. Eskel found a contract, but would start the next morning, heading up to their room early. Y/n had found some gwent players, knowing she could make extra coin through them easily. It had been an hour before the healer finally meandered up to the room, tired from the trek through the woods and the intense gameplay. Satisfaction rang through her as she had won, though fatigue still took over. She gently opened the door, looking to her lover on the bed.

Eskel was reading, book in this outside hand, the other arm tucked behind his head making the perfect spot for her to tuck in next to him. She toed off her shoes, slowly let her trousers drop, and padded to the bed. He had a small smile for her, though his eyes still flew over the pages. Y/n climbed into bed, positioning herself into his side, giving his scarred cheek a chaste kiss on the way to rest her head on his chest. She noticed that he was at the end of the chapter, only a page to go before the break, and she knew he’d put it down to chat, but she fell asleep moments after laying down.

 When she was awoken, Eskel was half over her, eyes sad and worried. Her heart pounded and sweat beaded, images of her last nightmare still flashing through her mind. Y/n’s eyes flew over every shadowed shape in the room, her shoulder fitting over Eskel’s chest. Her head snapped to look over his shoulder to look at the space behind him, all the while he was softly calling her name. She didn’t stop however, finally turning to him. Her hands cupped his cheeks, inspecting for blood that had previously been flooding out of his nose and mouth in her dream.

Her hands then flew to his shirt, fingers dragging over the dry material, finding no blood, no wound. She couldn’t really see anything, the overcast covering the moon light making it impossibly harder for the human. Eskel’s hand came up to cup hers when it flew over his heart. He knew that the beat was slow, but that she would still be able to feel it. His other went to her cheek, thumb brushing away the tears, and trying to sooth so she would stop shaking. Her eyes closed and she started to breath along with the man in front of her, their chests syncing up with only a few shaky inhales from her.

“I’m sorry.” Her head tilted into his hand.

“You know you never need to apologize for that.” They sat there for a handful of moments before he had to ask. “It’s been months.” It’s true that the two had been together for years now, but she still had them from time to time. Though, there was usually a trigger, either seeing Eskel badly injured after a hunt or passing through war riddled husks of towns. There was another difference to the dreams as well. It was never random people she couldn’t help, nor was it herself in the shoes of who was in danger. Eskel was always the victim in her dreams, and it tore at her heart every time. Even the thought of him getting hurt through her heartbeat to speeds it should never reach. That isn’t to say that she didn’t believe in his abilities. She had never felt safer than by his side, but she also knew his heart. Eskel would do anything to make her or innocents safe.

“It was Letho.” She could feel Eskel tense under her hand. “I didn’t know I fell asleep and you were reading to me. He waited in the shadows,” her tone was barley audible, but she knew he heard every word, every inflection. His, however, was just above a whisper, and his tone matched the tension in his shoulders.

“Did he hurt you in the dream?” Y/n shook her head lightly.

“No, he only said what he did to rile you up. And he was here to finish the job of taking you out.” Eskel had also noticed the pattern of her dreams and how they morphed into him being hurt. It hurt him to know that he was the source of her pain, though it also made his heart soar. To know that she truly loved him to where he plagued even her dreams. He had never thought he’d be happy, not like Geralt. And he was man enough to admit that he was jealous of his brother when it came to love. But now he had it, and he was never letting it go.

The dreams had lessened to only times after traumatic experiences, and he was determined to destroy them forever. Now, he just needed to figure out how to show her that even the threat of death couldn’t tear him from her loving arms.

[tinalbion]

Can I get uhhhhh some delicious citrusy lemon of Freddy x reader where she accidentally moans out "Daddy" when he does something as innocent as pressing her back into him, his face in her neck, maybe inhaling the sweet scent of her conditioner, just feeling his hot breath on her skin? (I'm kind of new to the freddy love/thirst train, I used to be scared of him as a child but now... 👌😏)

Omg first of all, WELCOME to the sin bin my dear! We are very excited to have you here with us, so please never feel hesitant to message us Freddy fuckers. We are in this together! But thank you for waiting patiently for this to be answered, I am more than happy to give the Fred man more love for you~ I hope to see you in the inbox again!

Lace up your boots kiddies, NSWF ahead!

This wasn’t the first time you had been intimate with the dream demon and it sure wouldn’t be the last. How the hell it even started was beyond you, but you grew tired of the cat and mouse games and just had to step it up a bit in order to get what you wanted. He was surprised and taken back by your brashness in his realm. But he wasn’t gonna complain that a cute little thing like you was coming onto him, who the hell did that normally anyway, this was a rare occasion and he wanted to see where it would play out. Maybe you were just trying to escape, it was a different sort of tactic, but a notable one at that. He’d play along and see what you had in mind for this little ‘trick’ you had in mind. 

It went from there and here you two were, always finding time to meet up in the dream world to get more of a taste. He was a drug you couldn’t quit, it was dangerous and you knew this, but it was the best high you could ever have. He would push your buttons and do anything you asked of him, so long as you were comfortable, he was there to explore it with you. You learned more about yourself than you had with anyone else, it was amazing. 

At some point, you looked into different kinks that you wanted to explore with the dream demon, the list was huge and you had no idea where to begin, but you were caught off guard one day as Freddy appeared behind you, his hands on your waist while the razored claws gently poked at your stomach. You leaned back against him and moaned from the pressure of him, the warmth of his burnt skin against your own, and out slipped the word that played on your mind for the past few days: ‘daddy’. 

It was silent right after due to your sudden realization and his surprise, but it was soon filled with his laughter. It was laughter not directed toward you but toward the situation. “Oho, Kitten, I didn’t think you were such a dirty girl, is that what I am to you?” He would press on to find out exactly what was going through your head, but he refused to let go of you as he held you against him, the obvious feeling of his excitement growing and pressing against your ass. It only made you whimper even louder for him, sweet music, he thought.

It's not to say Freddy didn't think you'd turn out to be a naughty little minx, he just never thought you would willingly call him daddy and him just being totally into it? He jokingly called himself Uncle Freddy on several occasions when speaking dirty to you, but daddy Fred sounded so much more...dirty and sexy. After that first slip up, he would come up behind you when you weren't paying attention, and in his deep voice, he'd purr in your ear: "Tell me, princess, are we gonna be good for daddy?"

Every single time, no matter how many times it happened, it would cause you to grow incredibly flustered and you could barely look him in the eyes. It was overwhelming and he knew what it did to you, so he would get his kicks doing it on purpose as he would keep a close eye on your reactions. It would cause a smile to spread across his face every single time. You were typically very open when having conversations about what you wanted sexually, but something about this man always made you feel like a shy little schoolgirl with a twisted crush. You loved it. 

Not long after, it was one of your favorite things to toss around when you two would be together, and Freddy loved to play into it. "How's daddy's little princess doing, already wet?" "Mhm, you got daddy all worked up, maybe you should get on your knees and take care of me, huh?" It was endless for you, but you got soaked just thinking about how he would greet you the next time you would show up in the boiler room. "Please daddy, I need you to take care of me, I'm begging you." And he would, too. Every single time you begged him so sweetly, he couldn't help but give in to the urge to fuck you senseless. You would always end up sore for days on end.