#noone needs to suffer that

[tonydaddingham]

LWA: Back again to be a bit contrarian--not against you! There's a line of thought I've seen circulating that incorporates "Aziraphale has more faith in Crowley than God," "Crowley is so good for Aziraphale," and "there wasn't any point in Crowley explaining withheld information to Aziraphale, because he's so stubborn," and they're puzzling me, because to endorse them means rejecting both the novel's and series' arguments about mature moral and political thinking? If you're going to do that, /do that/--"why does GO ask us to like Shadwell?" raises hard questions about its ability to deal with bigotry beyond the self-affirmations of Mary Hodges or Aziraphale in his "THE Southern Pansy!" moment--but if you're just trying to work out what GO-the-series is arguing, then I think we need to think about these readings for a second.

In the novel, Adam refuses to restore the whales because that won't change how humans treat them: "Seems to me, the only sensible thing is for people to know if they kill a whale, they've got a dead whale." It's after this speech that Aziraphale prevents Crowley from running off by insisting that the two of them are responsible for causing "trouble" for humanity by carrying out their orders, which Crowley tries to weasel out of by retreating to a Nuremberg Defense. These two moments are a one-two punch in what I suppose you could call the novel's Dead Whale Theory of moral deliberation, in which you move people towards change by asking them, first of all, to contemplate the material consequences of their actions. Free will and human nature, as Gaiman and Pratchett see them, may make the process of negotiating change difficult (seeing the whale doesn't mean agreeing on what it means, there are legitimate reasons for killing some whales, etc.), but if there is no appeal to divine authority, then the dead whale is where you start. For Aziraphale and Crowley, facing the dead whale means owning up to their complicity in the repercussions of Heaven's and Hell's plans. The novel does not allow for "the system made me do it" as an excuse. As of the end of S2, the TV series is slowly moving in the direction of the novel's conclusion, in the form of Nina's and Maggie's warning about interfering in human lives, but it has not reached the point of Novel!Aziraphale's and Crowley's moral epiphanies. Nobody is fully facing the dead whale in the room. Hence why Crowley is trapped in "go off" mode, an endless repetition of the moment that in the novel, Aziraphale nips in the bud. In this respect, he is "behind" the novel equivalent's character development, much as Aziraphale is.

TV!Crowley and Aziraphale are both terrible at seeing dead whales, for different reasons. Crowley, as you've heard from me umpteen times before, a) takes no responsibility for any of his actions and b) is constitutionally incapable of predicting the logical outcomes of any of his choices. Aziraphale is much better at thinking about consequences--S1 ultimately proves him right about being caught collaborating with Crowley, and S2 shows that he correctly saw where questioning God was going to lead--but all of his thought processes are rooted in a hierarchical model of deference to authority. To ring my equivalent of your 1941 truther bell, the reason I get so frustrated with the fandom's unwillingness to face the massive dead whale of S1, namely, the child murder subplot, is that it goes directly to the most problematic aspects of /both/ characters' inability to fully think through moral questions. (It's an important change from the text! It runs through the whole season! It drives the bandstand breakup! This is one stinking whale corpse, folks.) Crowley not only genuinely believes that he bears no responsibility for asking Aziraphale to kill a child for him, but also fails to think about what will happen to /Aziraphale/--you know, whom the script asks us to believe is the central figure in his life--if he goes through with it. Aziraphale, meanwhile, isn't capable of formulating a strong moral objection in response, even though he is obviously troubled and, in a vacillating way, resistant all the way through to the airfield (where Crowley finally yells at him to shoot). As both S1 and now S2 show us, Aziraphale /cannot/ appeal to Heavenly authority in order to solve the problem, because Heaven explicitly allows for killing children. Instead, he ends up deferring to /Crowley/, until Madame Tracy steps in.

This is where my puzzlement comes in. The fandom keeps arguing that Crowley is both entirely good and entirely good for Aziraphale, but the /scripts/ (and sometimes the acting) keep warning us that these are dangerous over-generalizations. He is good often, but not always. He is good for Aziraphale often, but not always. (And vice-versa.) About the only thing I correctly predicted about S2 was that the logical outcome of Aziraphale being liberated from Heavenly oversight would be some sort of mental breakdown that Crowley /wouldn't/ understand. The lockdown video was actually pretty telling about Gaiman's thinking in this respect: Aziraphale turns to "the rules," even though they hardly apply in his case, as the quickest way of alleviating mental discomfort. In the first few minutes of S2, we find out that Aziraphale's explicit substitute for reporting to Heaven is reporting to /Crowley/...which Crowley teases him about, instead of having a five-alarm fire bell going off in his head. (At which point the show would be over, so.) S2 is a battle between Aziraphale trying to assert himself as an individual living free from cult-like authoritarian coercion /and/ trying to reconstruct the hierarchical structure of authority with which he is most comfortable. No can do! We can see the former coming out in the brief moments where Aziraphale manifests resentment/outright anger/frustration about behaviors that he has always tolerated or even encouraged from Crowley: the burst of rage that comes out in the dialogue about the apology dance, or the visible upset when Crowley pulls the "I've got this" during the demon attack on the bookshop. In S1, Crowley's moment of distraction when the Bentley explodes both forces Aziraphale to drop the "I'm the nice one!" bit ("nice is different than good," Stephen Sondheim comes by to remark) and reveals that Crowley's pretentions about being the knight to Aziraphale's distressed damsel are much shakier than either he or Aziraphale is willing to admit. They have been playing this game for longer than is good for either of them. That's the dead whale about the damsel-ing game: Aziraphale has to admit to himself the truth of his own strength and /use/ it, and Crowley needs to admit to himself that he isn't Aziraphale's savior or superior. In S2, Aziraphale tries to escape being the damsel, but /Crowley/ can't let go of the game, much as Crowley is more amused than troubled at Aziraphale reporting to him for praise (which we see happening on screen).

The point here is that the possibility of Aziraphale's full liberation into independent moral thought, outside of the hierarchical system in which he has always existed, means...moving /away/ from Crowley in some crucial respects. (This goes back to the points you've made about Aziraphale's idolatry.) In fact, S1 literally moves him away from Crowley when he asks what turns out to be the right question at the airfield, and Crowley's initial non-verbal response is dismay, not support. Similarly, /pace/ Crowley's marriage proposal, Crowley isn't represented as always reliable. We have literally just watched him promise to handle a situation that he conspicuously fails to handle! The multi-car pileup of the last fifteen minutes reflects, I think, the script's invitation to see Aziraphale's decision in light of both his in-character need to fix the system from a position of authority (becoming "the right people," as he says in S1) /and/ those brief outbursts of resentment at Crowley's behavior. There's that really jarring moment in the 1941 flashback where Crowley's response to Aziraphale saving his life is to hurt his feelings about his sleight-of-hand skills, but I think in context this ungraciousness tells us something about Crowley that isn't all that complimentary. Crowley saves Aziraphale from /paperwork/ with a big miracle that involves blowing up a church and killing people; Aziraphale saves Crowley from /eternal torment/ with human sleight-of-hand that, by definition, nobody sees at all. That Crowley doesn't seem to like this very much is something that we should probably sit with for a bit. Aziraphale's hierarchical marriage proposal is obviously YIKES OH HONEY NO, but it also sure looks like a way to invert what both he /and/ Crowley are shown thinking about how their relationship "ought" to work, even when the script also shows that it doesn't really work that way at all, and that they really function best as fully-egalitarian partners.

LWA✨ i have dithered so much over this response because there is so much that could be talked about, but i think the conclusion ive come to is that it basically needs a separate post as to not make this response a frankly horrible length!!! so in the interest of keeping it relatively brief:

i think what we sometimes forget is that these are indeed characters that are thinking, feeling, and acting more and more like humans - and that along with the romantic and idyllic side of this humanity come the parts where, whilst they may not be objectively and irredeemably evil individuals, they can do incredibly bad things - not just in general, but to each other. I find it personally interesting how prevalent analysis on aziraphale's actions is (and they are usually very balanced, i'll be clear) but i personally haven't seen much analysis that actually looks at crowley in any kind of critical light, nor have i seen much analysis that looks at their relationship overall as one that, beyond the obvious miscommunication issues, is perforated with hurtful and damaging incidents perpetrated by the both of them.

to my mind, we can't look at these two supernatural beings that by all accounts are having Very Human Experiences, and then not recognise that - like any human, or any human relationship - they are both riddled with poor choices and questionable traits that have been papered-over and buried, leading directly to the situation we left them in at the end of s2.

we collectively like to romanticise the theme that they are not so different from each other as heaven/hell would have them believe. of course, in some ways that is true, but as sheer individuals they are fundamentally different. that's not down to their 'species', for lack of a better term, but down to them literally having had different experiences, making different choices, and suffering different consequences. in this respect, they literally cannot relate to each other - aziraphale can never understand the fall and the mark that left, to be cast out and reviled, and (by crowley's account) not knowing the reason why... and crowley can never understand being so indoctrinated that despite being ostracised and ridiculed, and later emancipated from it, you cling to the institution because its safer than the unknown. they might understand the other's plight on paper, but the very fact that they do not relate to the other one's way of thinking in the very narrative we're shown tells us that, on a profound level, they are on very different, even if closely entwined, wavelengths.

it's so human to have these kind of reactions to major changes and experiences in our lives. just because i might have a similar moral blueprint to my partner does not mean that we won't conflict and disagree on other things, hold the other accountable for their actions, and potentially hurt each other both inadvertently and sometimes purposefully in the process. we are human, and this is part of being human. so if we're going to paint crowley and aziraphale with the same brush, we have to accept that they are both problematic, they both do horrible things, and maybe are just as bad for each other in some respects, as they are perfect. these are compelling elements of their characters that should not be willfully ignored or excused.

all of crowley and aziraphale's more reprehensible actions as concerns the main plot of the story directly feed into the consequences that they end up facing in their relationship... a rather inarticulate way of saying that they do some pretty awful things, and they do some of them in the guise of loving or protecting the other, but fail to see how these contribute to what makes them so fundamentally different from each other that it frankly results in them being, in pretty major ways, currently rather incompatible. let's consider the Dead Whale Theory (big love for this) as a systematic process:

consider killing a whale

kill whale

have dead whale

learn maybe to not kill whales

crowley and aziraphale are firmly in the "kill whale" stage throughout the Final Fifteen - and have been leading up to, and in, this stage for a long time. even more specifically, to my mind the whale corpse isn't even apparent until we see them outside the bookshop in the last few minutes; all the way through the Final Fifteen they're flinging words at each other, making requests that totally ignore and demean the other, and result in, i think, critically hurting and alienating the other person.

but this comes back to the same problem; they are so intrinsically linked with each other, and have been for so long, that what has transpired- as i see it - is that they've built up versions of each other in their heads that the true them cannot, and arguably don't want to, live up to. they spent years assuming things about the other, communicating in riddles and covert gestures, not actually talking or listening - and all this has led to is that the resultant person that they think the other is - maybe not false - but is certainly not the whole picture. the tragedy is that if either of them had paid a bit more attention, or had seen beyond their own personal ends and means - had thought to stop and think about what killing the whale might actually get them - they might be in a different situation than they currently are.

of course, the narrative needs this dilemma (and im a firm advocate for tragedies of both the preventable and inevitable kinds in storytelling), but when analysing what has led these characters to this situation in the first place, it is absolutely the case that both of them were 'in the wrong', just as much as they were both 'in the right'. crowley has been equally questionable in how he treats aziraphale as how aziraphale treats him. and in my opinion outright justification* of either of their actions sets, for me, an alarming precedent of essentially saying that either one of their traumas, begotten from their very different experiences, is more important or has more weight than the other's. that's... not okay. the reasons why they act horribly can be empathised with, but should not be excused.

*it is absolutely the case that their traumatic experiences would inform on how they act, think, and feel. and i am not saying they do not have weight, or should be dismissed. but explanation should help us understand the action, not outright excuse it and deem it warranted or legitimate. doing something horrible as humans because of trauma does not automatically mean that we are vindicated of that action, or absolved of the consequence, and that same rationale should apply to these two as well.

the bottom line that, at this point, ive personally reached is that im not convinced that aziraphale and crowley aren't in love with a certain, rose-tinted glasses version of the other. in fact, i don't think - given the incredible amounts of miscommunication they have accumulated between them - they even fully know the other person. they each have a vision of the other in their heads, and when they are actually confronted with the whole of the other person, quite a few of those beliefs and assumptions are broken by the end of s2.

[areyoudoingthis]

it isn't about the crew finding out for me. the crew will eventually forgive ed because they'll see that he's changed and stede will want him back home, plus this is a comedy about found family after all

i need what izzy did to come out because ed isn't a crazy man who went insane and violent when his boyfriend left him. he's a man who keeps being revictimized over and over by the angry men in his life and who has never been able to fully escape that, because even as an adult the only way he found to escape was to build himself a facade of violent masculinity that effectively became a prison. and the one time in his life when he found softness and thought he could be allowed to be who he really wanted to be and not who everyone else has been forcing him to be since he was a kid, izzy stepped on him and showed him he wasn't safe at all. I need izzy's abuse to be addressed because i need to see ed heal and that bit's kinda crucial to it, to ed finally embracing the softness he's always wanted and learning that he is, after all, capable of giving and receiving love, that he isn't broken and the violence he suffered was never his fault, was never caused by anything being fundamentally broken in him

[nothing-nothing454545]

ive been thinking about the "trans dipper and mabel" thing.

for the unaware, theyre identical twins, so one of them must be trans, or at least they would be if biology worked the same way in cartoons) someone said that dipper clearly isnt happy with his masculinity, so he can't be a trans boy, thus mabel is trans (and also dipper will come out as a trans woman later.

while im obviously not arguing to deny someone her headcanon!!! i want to say in defense of transmasc dipper, he isn't happy with his masculinity because it's incomplete. he wishes his voice was deeper, he wishes he was taller. He's clearly awaiting male puberty. His struggle reminds me personally of the way trans men struggle to prove their masculinity, but its not a permanent struggle, or even if it was, most people would struggle even more if they tried detransitioning anyway.

the way dipper has to learn some lessons, like being vulnerable (lamb costume) and disliking someone quietly like a girl (fighting over wendy) isn't necessarily proof of transfemininity either. many men, cis or trans, who try to overcompensate their masculinity with their personality, will pick up toxic habits that are seen as stereotypically male, but do not serve them, and will need to unlearn them at a point when they're comfortable in their masculinity, and the examples above are very common. the reverse can apply to femininity too imo (like being scared of people seeing youre competent at something women are "supposed" to be incompetent at)

anyway, transmasc dipper and transfem dipper theorists, lets coexist peacefully <3 and thanks for reading

[critterchitters-closedcaptions]

trying to decipher if the overwhelming dread & Thoughts are cause of the state of the world or cause i need a shower.

vent post in the tags. idk. do whatever 👍

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

oaughhhh. everything is stagnant again

[windfighter]

Is it wrong that I feel more like a man in clothes that are mostly my size even if they happen to be skirts or have a more 'feminine' cut, than I do in 'masculine' clothes that have to be 5 sizes too big and therefore are so illfitted it really highlights how not masculine my build is

[miraclewoozi]

Heads up: Fem! Reader x Lee Chan, elements of a humiliation kink (f. receiving), dirty talk, praise (f. receiving), hints of possesive! Chan, mentions of fingering and oral sex (f. receiving), somewhat sadistic! Chan, overstimulation (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex, Chan being condescending and the use of baby as a petname.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

[01:45]

Cuddling with Chan has just become part of your everyday routine. Sometimes, he crawls into your bed, and other days, you make your way into his. It's a habit you don't quite remember how exactly the two of you started forming, but as you nuzzle against his arm, you don't think tracing the beginnings of this matters all that much.

Most people would likely think you were lying if you told them that it had been innocent and platonic. Given how attractive your roommate is, their scepticism wouldn't be misplaced. However, it'd been true. You and Chan rarely strayed away from innocent touches and cuddles with discussions of your respective days sprinkled in. His hand on your hip and your face nestled into his neck being as scandalous as the two of you would get.

Well, that used to be true anyways.

Now you find yourself with your thighs spread for roommate. Your face warmer than you can ever recall it being and your pussy wet and swollen from what has felt like hours of Chan toying with you. Forcing you to cum on his tongue and fingers three times but, not letting you feel his cock yet. He seemed more than happy to watch you fracture into pieces, and tears streak down your face as he kept curling his fingers through your orgasms.

You'd never thought he could be sadistic but, the gleam in his eyes and the way his cock twitched with every pitchy sob from your mouth might indicate otherwise.

"I want you to hold your thighs open for me," he says, his evil, evil tongue chasing the taste of you on his mouth and as far as it can reach. Lidded eyes meeting your own momentarily with the command in them clear as day before they drift between your thighs.

"Ch-Chan, that's embarrassing," you whine, clamping your thighs shut and turning your head away to look anywhere but him.

The air stills in your lungs when his fingers grip your jaw and force your eyes to meet his blazing ones once more. "It's embarrassing? But, you're already so fucking wet for me," he mutters, his lips spreading into a smirk when he snakes his way between your thighs with his unoccupied hand to drag his fingers along your slit. A moan tumbling out of you when he lightly brushes your swollen clit.

"Something tells me you like being embarrassed," he says before pulling away and resuming his earlier position. It takes everything in you not to whine at the loss of contact.

"Well?" You really, really hate how attractive he looks with his eyebrow raised. Waiting for you to comply because if tonight has proven anything, it's that your resolve immediately crumbles when it comes to Lee Chan.

So, you do. Prickles of embarrassment heating your face further as you hold onto the backs of your thighs and, borderline present yourself for him. Feeling exposed and vulnerable and more turned on than you have in ages.

"That's my good girl," Chan coos and squirm at the words. Your walls clenching hard around nothing and feeling painfully empty as your eyes land on his cock resting against his toned abdomen.

"Is there something you want?" He asks with another one of stupid, aggravating smirks. Before you can mouth off to him, Chan is one step ahead. Grabbing himself and running his tip along your soaked folds, a barely there groan, leaving him when he briefly reaches your entrance before almost immediately shifting upwards once more.

"Chan please," you heave, your thighs quivering and he hadn't even fucked you properly yet. It's maddening. He's maddening.

"Please what?" You've never wanted to punch a man more in your entire life.

"Please fuck me. Please please please," you wouldn't be surprised if you were crying again, frustration and want creating a highstrung, volatile cocktail within you, "Please, I want your cock inside of me. Plea-"

You cut yourself off with a sharp gasp, your fingernails biting into your thighs as he starts to sink into you. His eyes are intense and unwavering as he takes in every minute detail of the expressions that cross your face. For your part, you're barely coherent. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head and breathy whimpers falling from your lips from the mind-numbing stretch he provides.

It's only when he's fully sheathed inside of you that Chan looks down and, he regrets it immediately. You clamping down on him felt otherworldly already, but to see it? To see how you cling to him and cover him in your wetness? He's a fucking goner.

"See, now was that so hard?" He asks but, any condescension is severely undercut by how fucked out he already sounds too.

"No," you respond, just trying to remember how to adequately breathe with him nestled so far inside of you.

You thought just him sinking into you was overwhelming, but it got so much worse when he finally started moving. He started off slow, not wanting to give you too much too quickly, and even then, you can feel your toes already beginning to curl and your thighs quaking once more.

"You're taking me so well, baby," he mutters into your ear, his hands replacing your own and practically folding you in half as he fucks into you. The petname is new and sudden, forcing a gush of wetness from you and your hands to find purchase on his biceps in an attempt to steady yourself.

All you can muster in response is a jumbled mess of his names interspersed with moans and whimpers and keens. With how precisely and deliciously he drags along your walls with every thrust, it's frankly a miracle you haven't blacked out yet.

"Aw, is my baby already too fucked out on my dick?" He asks with faux sympathy, one of his hands turning your face to meet his gaze once more. Apparently, your roommate really has a thing for eye contact.

You try your best to nod, eyelashes fluttering when he hits a particularly dizzying spot. You don't fail to notice the addition of 'my' to the already new petname. A sadistic possesive man. Just your luck.

"Can't even speak? Poor baby," he coos, kissing below your ear before moving to the rest of your neck. His kisses are all tongue and teeth, chuckling into your skin every time he finds a place that makes you squirm and tighten around him. You're just so responsive. Chan can't help himself.

You choke on your spit when he reaches between your overheated bodies to draw quick circles on your clit. You've been teetering on the edge of a fourth orgasm for some time now but, you don't know if you can do another one. You're so sensitive and swollen and, Chan's thick cock determined to fuck you stupid certainly isn't helping.

"One more, baby," he mutters, a twinge of delirium colouring his voice as he continues his merciless pace and the patterns his fingers draw.

"Ch-Chan, I don-don't know if I-I can," you whine but, you can already feel it building. You think Chan does too from the way he moans against you, his teeth ghosting over your throat.

"You can, baby. I know you can. You'll be good for me and cum one more time, right?"

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[lamtfluff]

A few years ago I had a phase of being REALLY into digital privacy, using tor, duckduckgo, etc before suffering some burnout because I was trying to be 100% secure. So I'm by no means a expert I'm just relaying experience.

The culture of a lot of left leaning and "fandommy" sites (tumblr, twitter, etc) tends to fear/dislike (or just not know about) a lot of the IT stuff used by people into online privacy because they asscoiate it with "techbros". ESPECIALLY anything even remotely involving cryptocurrency. But if Trump is going to start censoring things and making morning after pills harder to get now might be a VERY good time for Americans to get into online privacy and how to avoid being tracked as well as avoiding censorship. Perhaps even some crypto to buy things discretly (or perhaps if ICE agents start caring about cash?) and because many activists groups also take donations in crypto. Never dealt with crypto myself but from what I know Monero was designed to be more untracable than Bitcoin. Don't know how succesfull that is though. Definetly get into privacy in general though.

I'll leave some useful links to get started. Words of advice:

Don't install a fuckton of privacy extensions on your browser, your unique combination of extensions will give your browser a unique fingerprint. Instead read up on and pick a few commonly used ones.

The BIGGEST annoyance for me was acedemic/proffesional settings because noone wants to switch over to some software they never heard off for one group project. Personally I use some normie software for exclusivly proffesional purposes with NO other information on me and do my actual browsing/leisure computer use more privatly.

https://www.privacytools.io/os: General software/browser/etc recomendations.

https://coveryourtracks.eff.org/: Test how private your browser is.

https://www.torproject.org/: THE gold standard for privacy focused browsers. Also obscures ip. Might not always be practical. Has the disadvantage of being notoriously slow and is blocked by some services/websites to avoid people bypassing ip bans and whatnot. Probably don't use this as your everyday browser but if you ever need to look up anything without censorship use tor.

https://tails.net/: Install a portable mini operating system on a usb stick to browse privately from any computer.

https://www.eff.org/ Electronic frontier foundations website.

https://mastodon.social/explore Don't have experience with it myself. But open source social media that should be much harder to censor.

Tumblr probably won't like me talking too directly about this because of ties to piracy but for people interested in banned books https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shadow_library should be an interesting read...

[solace-seekers]

my head hurting so badly i wanna throw up vs my post lab that i really need to complete go

[beloveds-embrace]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Matchmaking Buns

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ in which your bunnies inadvertently lead you into meeting your new neighbors, who are far too endeared by you from the get-go <3

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

The thing is, you absolutely adore your bunnies. Two holland lops, one mini lop, and a flemish giant all together with full freedom of your house and a big garden for them to play in- with a bet overhead to protect them against hawks and whatever else. Hell, they even have a patio in case it rains.

You absolutely adore them. You worked your ass off to have a house like this, and then have enough money and space to give them everything they need. They are the lights of your life.

Simultaneously, they might possibly be your biggest source of headache.

All this space, all these spots and nooks and crannies for them to hide and play in- and their favorite activity still remains having you chase them down the road like the incorrigible brats they are. None of your neighbors are surprised by the sight anymore, often helping you but right now there isn’t anyone around except a group of men that you ignore. They must be the new neighbors.

(God, your embarrassment will know no bound after this.)

“You fucking four bastards! Once I catch you- ugh!” You shout, aiming it at those little monsters that remain living rent-free in your house as you run fast after them. But-

Oh no. Oh noooo. The four men, the new neighbors, turn around at your shout; likely assuming you meant it at them. Only to have your bunnies barrel through and between their legs.

After this, once you get those brats back, you will have to join them in finding a burrow to hide in your garden. That’s the only solution.

God must be smiling down at you, though; God must be satisfied by the regular entertainment you provide, because the men catch the bunnies. All four men catch all your four bunnies. It’s almost hilarious seeing your mini-lop in the hands of the big(gest) dude with the surgical mask. The tiny bastard doesn’t even seem mildly bothered, just nosing around the man’s chin and mask. Your two holland hops are in the hands of a very pretty man- wow, what eyelash serum does he use?- and a man who is wearing a boonie hat. Your flemish giant chills in the hands of the one with the mohawk.

You slow down as you jog towards them, trying to catch your breath. The amusement and confusion on their faces would’ve almost been comical if you weren’t so embarrassed.

“Oh- oh my god, I’m so, so sorry-” You begin, cheeks pink. Fuck, you weren’t even anything that appropriate either; jean shorts and a rather thin top. “I’m sooo sorry, jesus christ. They- they usually don’t bother other people when they do this-“

“They do this often?” Boonie hat man raises an eyebrow, chuckling.

You nod, glaring down at the bunny who just… stares right back at you. Little beast. Evil little beast that enjoys your suffering. “Yeah… they get a certain joy out of my suffering. Once again, I’m so sorry-“

“Easy there, lass,” mohawk man grins at you, as does pretty man. You can’t tell what exoression their fourth might have on his face. Your flemish giant begins cleaning her face, unbothered. “They dinnae hurt noone… though maybe just yer lungs.”

As you gather your breath, still cradling your wayward bunnies, you glance up at the group of men and realize you haven’t even introduced yourself yet. Great. Chasing rabbits down the street and forgetting your manners? You’re on a roll today.

“I’m—uh, I’m sorry, where are my manners? I’m [Name].” You gesture awkwardly toward your bunnies, still snuggled up in their rescuers’ arms. “And these are… my little troublemakers.”

The man with the boonie hat offers you a warm grin, extending his hand. “John Price. Looks like we’re neighbors now, love.”

You take his hand, appreciating the solid, firm shake and give him a smile. “Nice to meet you, John. And thanks again.”

The man with the mask remains silent but inclines his head, giving the tiniest of nods. He’s still holding your mini-lop, who’s completely unbothered, nosing at his mask like it’s a toy. “Simon.” he says in a low, gravelly voice.

His voice sends a tiny shiver down your spine. There’s something about his calm presence, even with your rebellious bunny in his grasp, that feels oddly reassuring. If anything, seeing your bunny si relaxed makes you far more willing to trust him. “Thanks, Simon. I appreciate it.”

The man with the mohawk steps forward, his grin as cheeky as ever. “Johnny MacTavish.” His Scottish accent rolls smoothly, and you can’t help but smile back. “Looks like yer big girl here likes me, huh?” He scratches behind your flemish giant’s ear, who responds by nudging into his hand.

You laugh. “Yeah, she’s usually shy, but I guess you’ve won her over.”

The last man, who had been standing back slightly, steps forward, still gently cradling one of your holland lops in his arms. “Kyle Garrick.” he says softly, his eyes flicking between you and the bunny. “They’re cute little things, aren’t they?”

You nod, heart warming a little. “Yeah, they are. And… a handful.”

For a brief moment, there’s a quiet, comfortable silence. You close your eyes and take in a deep, calming breath, not noticing the way all of them seem oddly focused on you—not in a bad way, but more like they’re genuinely interested.

“How do you take them back then?” John asks at last, breaking the silence. He’s almost absent-mindedly patting your bunny’s head.

“Well, I usually try to coax them with treats,” you say, opening your eyes to glance down at your bunnies. “but it seems like they’ve chosen chaos today, so no treats for them. I’ll just herd them back.” You shoot the bunnies a mock glare, earning a soft chuckle from Price.

“Seems like they’ve got a bit of personality,” Simon comments, his voice low. “Must’ve gotten that from you, yeah?”

You blink, caught off guard by his subtle tease. Was that a compliment? From him? You laugh softly, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze. “Well, they’re stubborn, that’s for sure.”

Kyle, steps forward and holds the bunny out to you. “Here, love. Looks like he’s had his fun. Don’t worry, no harm done.”

You take the bunny from him, your fingers brushing his as you do. “Thanks,” you murmur, feeling a bit flustered by the warmth of his touch. “I was about ten seconds away from having a meltdown.”

Johnny leans forward, his grin widening even as he hands over your flemish giant. One by one, you get back all your bunnies. “Aye, ye seemed like ye were in a bit of a panic. But nae need to be embarrassed, lass. We’ve all got our little burdens.”

Your eyes dart to his, catching a mischievous twinkle there. He’s definitely enjoying this a little too much.

You sigh dramatically, still cradling your mischievous bunnies. You set them down, and like the most obedient angels ever, they just hop and wait around your feet. “They’re more than burdens, they’re the bane of my existence sometimes. But I love them.”

Price chuckles, arms crossed over his broad chest. “It’s good you care about them that much. Not everyone would go to such lengths for their pets.”

You smile sheepishly. “Yeah, well… they’re my kids, basically. Little fluffy nightmares, but I love them.” You glance up at the group, unable to hide your appreciation for their help. “I seriously owe you guys. Maybe a drink sometime? Or dinner? As a proper thank you and welcome, of course.”

Simon shifts slightly, eyes still on you, though his face remains unreadable behind the mask. Johnny shoots him a look, then turns back to you with a grin. “Would nae wanna bother ye, lass-“

You blink, quickly shaking your head. “Oh, no, it won’t be a bother at all! I mean, it’s the least I can do after… all of this.” You gesture vaguely at the situation. Your mini-lop flops down near Simon, likely expecting pats.

Johnny’s grin deepens, and he exchanges a look with Price. “We’ll hold ye to that, lass. What day works for ye?”

You laugh nervously, cheeks still warm. “I’ll… I’ll figure something out and let you know.”

Kyle gives you a soft, reassuring smile. “We’ll be looking forward to it. And don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye out for any runaway bunnies in the meantime.”

As the men begin to head back to their place, Johnny calls out over his shoulder, “Remember- dinner, lass! No backing out!”

You roll your eyes with a playful smile but can’t help feeling flustered as you watch them go, and then laugh a little when Simon smacks the back of Johnny’s head, your heart beating a little faster. When they’re out of sight, you glance down at your bunnies.

“Thanks for the assist, you little terrors,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Now I owe them dinner. Perfect.”

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Part 2

Masterpost + interactions, comments, reblogs and everything in between is very much encouraged 🫶🏻

[macksho]

*preemptively slaps you with comically long glove*

You like soda now. It is Official. The Poll does not lie.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooooooòoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

[thinkinonsense]

WORK SONG❀

old!logan howlett x young fem!reader

cw: fluff, some angst/sadness, a line or two that could be nsfw

wc: 500+

a/n: this idea has haunted me for days now. also, we need more old logan fics!! 2029 logan is so hot and no one wants to talk about it.

part two here

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

Logan didn't understand why you stayed with him. He can't give you the life you deserve and it kills him because he knows you won't leave for your own good. There were times when Charles would even tell you to run, it broke your heart to see them both suffering.

Logan always commented that you needed to be with someone your age, someone without so much baggage, someone not as dangerous as him. Yet, you stuck around through everything; taking care of Charles and Logan after he's had a rough day.

Truth be told, you were content with your life. Logan made you happy and made you feel important. He provided what he could but you knew he was hurting. His life was far more complicated than you imagined but you were determined to ease it for him.

There were nights when you would wait for him to come home from work. He hated it when you would do that; mumbling into your neck about how you should be resting.

"Couldn't sleep without you, Lo..." You would yawn, wrapping your arms around his sore body.

"Let's get you to bed, princess." He says, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

The only time he could completely relax was in the early morning hours when your sleeping body rested on top of his; as close together as humanly possible. He felt so full of love when you looked at him. Logan felt selfish by keeping you isolated here but god, does he adore you.

On the rare occasion, Logan gets a day off, you make a whole day of it. The two of you would stay in bed all morning. When you would get up to check on Charles, you would slip on one of Logan's shirts from the night before. By noon there would be a cherry pie in the oven and a bottle of scotch on the table. You pull out his favorite cigars while he keeps you glued to his lap. He didn't need anything other than you.

Sometimes Logan would joke that your kisses give him toothaches because you're too sweet for him. You would blush and playfully slap his chest.

At dinner, he would stare at you from across the table while you talked with Charles. If Logan didn't know better, he would've sworn he dreamt you up; some figment of his imagination.

You took care of him any way that you could; kissing his bloody knuckles before wrapping them up, washing his hair when he was too tired to move. He would come home a mess some days yet you never questioned what caused it. When Laura entered your life, you didn't need an explanation. She would be cared for the same as Charles and Logan. You didn't care what he had done as long as he returned home at night.

Logan knew he didn't have much time left. He was falling apart in ways he would never let you see. The more he thought about dying, the less he cared what the afterlife had in store for him because you were his heaven.

No grave would hold him down. Logan was sure to crawl home to you.

[starlightervarda]

I can't sleep so Star Trek TOS/SNW dashboard simulator

🪆 chekovsgunman Follow

to this day I can't understand why they're called the Three Musketeers if there's FOUR of them? Did Dumas just forget his own main character???

🪴 plantdad Follow

You've got to be kidding me

🪆 chekovsgunman Follow

I know right? A mistake like this would never happen in Russian literature!

5,324 notes

🩺 therealmccoy Follow

After months of taking care of everyone else on this giant tin can I really earned this shore leave. Now I get to drink, relax, flirt with some lovely ladies and sleep until noon 😎 Just what the the doctor ordered!

🩺 therealmccoy Follow

Update: A fucking purple tree ate five crewmen. Again.

955 notes

🖖 iamspock Follow

Despite being among humans for close to a decade, I still find their tendency to overcomplicate and avoid aspects of social situations to be confusing at best and infuriating at worst. So much time is wasted on tedious matters such as who gets to 'make the first move' or 'not come off too strong'.

For example, everyone aboard my vessel is keenly aware of Lt. Uhura and Engineer Scott's 'budding romance'. But their need to extend their oddly avoidant courtship ritual, rather than outright state their interest in one another, is pointless, as well as frustrating to witness.

Why do they do this? Why not 'get it over with', as they say?

I encourage answers from all cultures, human or otherwise.

💅 janicethemenace Follow

I'm sorry Scotty and Nyota are WHAT

💉 xtinechapel Follow

DELETE THIS

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

SPOCK NOOO HE DOESN'T THINK OF ME LIKE THAT 😭

🔧 scott-free Follow

But I do! I thought you knew and were just being nice about it!

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

DMing you rn 😳

🖖 iamspock Follow

You're welcome.

24,103 notes

🌟 j_tiberius_k Follow

PSA: If you visit Antares VII, stay clear of any yellow plants, their pollen can have some...inconvenient effects on the biology of humanoid peoples.

My XO and I suffered through troubling symptoms until it was almost too late. Thankfully, we figured out a cure in time.

🪴 plantdad Follow

I can only find info on the symptoms. What was the cure? 👀

🌟 j_tiberius_k Follow

Do I really have to say it?

6,322 notes

💊 mmmbenga Follow

The galaxy if Klingons didn't exist

⚔️ glorytotheempire Follow

Wow. Humans are openly advocating for our disappearance yet Klingons are the bad guys? I thought your federation stood for peace.

💊 mmmbenga Follow

Cry harder you genocidal wrinkly-faced bitch I hope your planet gets sucked into a black hole

#If you think a joke is on par with what they do then book an MRI because you might have brain damage #fuck Klingons and anyone that sympathizes with them

35,007 notes

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

So I can either skim through this asteroid belt on Warp 2 for 3 hrs or on Warp 5 for 15 mins

🚀 mitchiemitch Follow

Erica no! That's not how navigation works!

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

FLOOR IT???

🚀 mitchiemitch Follow

ERICA NO

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

HOW ABOUT WARP 7 FOR 15 SECONDS?

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

ERICA YOU'RE GOING TO CRASH THE SHIP

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

I AM GOING TO HARNESS LIGHT-SPEED TO ZIGZAG THROUGH THE VOID

🚀 mitchiemitch

ERICA P L E A S E

112,517 notes

🐴 sirsilverfox Follow

I know some species are very private, but you'd think they'd share the important stuff, esp when we should trust each other by now.

How are we supposed to enjoy my weekly dinners if you all don't tell me what to watch out for :/ This is the third time this happens to the same person and I had to get the answer why from our CMO

💫 numerouna Follow

Wait what did I miss while I was gone

🐴 sirsilverfox Follow

Spock got wasted on my chocolate fudge cake and hit his head on the counter ://///

2,904 notes

[qqchurch]

dungeon farming economy setting with a healer girl MC suffering crippling boredom due to her subclass being inefficient for the most effective farming parties so she's stuck guiding noobs over and over again on the upper levels

then she meets this absolutely unhinged berserker woman that's bleeding all over the place but damn she's good at fighting and it turns out she needs a healer that can work with her that isn't one of the pansy barrier healers that the meta teams want and noone wants a berserker because they're insane and get stronger the closer to death they are, which barrier healers can't help because they're designed for preventing damage and topping off whatever slips past their mitigation. MC's healer class is fucking awesome at sustain and keeping people from dying but all the meta parties use classes and equipment that rely on constantly being topped off, which she can't do because she mostly has beefy heals and defense buffs

so, seeing nothing else to do, MC and Zerker go dungeon diving and after a rocky start, they hit off immediately because MC is actually insanely fight-happy and just wants the rush of a good fight, while Zerker is partly a masochist and partly doing this as a coping mechanism

and thus they become badasses that get further down the dungeon than anyone else in recent history all through sheer gumption, spite, and a looooooot of hyperviolence

oh, and they have hot sloppy yuri sex, can't forget that

[daenysx]

“just imagine having aemond as your boss. i would cry at every corner”

i need a ceo aemond fic immediately please love love love ur writing x

i think this could have an angsty theme but you know i'm not really capable of writing something like that :( i just used it as an opportunity to write about having a secret relationship with your boss modern!aemond who's nice only to you <3333

i hope you like it, your opinions matter a lot, i'll be waiting for your comments on this!!

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, nsfw. -wc; 2.4k

blurred boundaries

mr. targaryen has a pretty face. you can't look at him for more than 5 seconds.

he has this piercing gaze that makes you wanna curl up in your bed and scream into the pillow, the smirks he sometimes rewards you with have the same effect. you look at the bathroom mirror. you need some lip gloss.

the office is crowded today. physically it can't be too crowded because mr. targaryen hates when people stay more than they're needed. somehow everything got together today, too many calls have been made. your boss is getting more tense each minute, you can feel that much. he looks at people like they are only useless liabilities.

you try fix your hair, using two minutes of bathroom break. applying a fresh layer of your lip gloss to feel better, adjusting your skirt to stay straight on your waist. you leave the bathroom.

mr. targaryen calls for you. it's the fifth time today and it's not even noon. you step into his room. he's fuming like a restless dragon in front of the giant windows of his office.

"mr. targaryen?" you approach him slowly.

he lifts his head to see you. you're not sure what he wants, who he wants to be this time. are you supposed to say something more? the boundaries get blurry.

"come here." he says with a low voice. his left hand is extended to you. "come."

you've always admired his voice ever since you started working for him. he has a way of controlling it so well, when he wants to be sweet or when he wants to claim his authority. he never shouts unless he's over the edge, he can make people listen what he says without raising his voice. it's more attractive than it's supposed to be.

you take a few steps to close the distance.

"don't get shy on me now." he says, taking your hand. "no one will see."

"i just-" you don't know what to say. "you look upset."

aemond puts your hand on his chest to keep you there. the scent of his cologne surrounds you, you breathe him in. he holds his hand on yours, his free hand reaches for your waist.

"i can't stand people's idiocity." he tells you, his neck bent like a dragon searching for a bond. "i don't want to see any more of them."

"you don't have to." you say, coming closer to him boldly. "you're the boss."

he gives you a smile and that's the end of it. it's his fault, he started it. you're definitely not responsible for-

"you can't kiss me here." he reminds you. he's insufferable.

you take a step back. if he doesn't want a kiss that's fine. you're not the one who's restless and unable to calm down because of some customers.

"you should let me go then." you say. "i have things to do."

"is that so?" he devilishly smirks. "i thought you said i'm the boss."

"so what?"

"so the boss wants you to stay here." he answers. "and you will stay here."

"mr. targaryen-"

"don't get upset with me, sweetheart." he says. "we're in the office."

you huff quietly. he's messing with your head, he always does that. he makes a move and when you give him an answer he says you can't. you wanna scream, you wanna punch him. you wanna kiss him.

"fine." you say. "anything i can do for you then, sir?"

aemond squeezes your fingers. you know it's a weakness, calling him sir or by his last name. you know it makes him lightheaded, his breath hitched. you want him to suffer in a way just like he makes you suffer.

"you want to play with me, is that it?"

"i have no intention to do anything." you say. "you know, this conversation could go so well if you could let me give you one kiss. you're calling me here, get me so close to you, and when i want to kiss, you-"

aemond pulls you to himself to shut you up. his lips move against yours, curving so sweetly. you suck his bottom lip, close your eyes with your hand on his waist. the distance between you disappears, aemond parts his lips to deepen the kiss. you let out a shaky breath.

"no-" you say when he separates his lips from yours. "please."

he kisses you again, cupping the back of your head to angle your face. it's a nice kiss. you like his kisses in the middle of the day, a beneficial motivation to keep working.

"good?" he asks, cheekily. "i kiss you and you go back to being my good girl, is that it?"

"you can't say that when we're working."

"are we working right now?"

"fine." you huff. "when we're in your office."

"you look so pretty in that skirt." he says suddenly. "and um- i ruined your lips."

you cover your lips. you forgot you applied lip gloss, and aemond takes pride in making a mess as he always does. he kisses your cheek, taking your hand off your mouth.

"can i see you tonight?" he asks. "after this dreadful day ends?"

you nod. "if i can finish on time." you say, thinking all the mails you need to answer. "you know, you're not the only person i'm responsible to."

"do you hear what you're saying?" he says, kissing the soft skin below your ear. "you can't get mad at me for calling you my good girl when that's exactly what you are."

"aemond-"

a knock on his door interrupts your words. aemond leaves you, his thumb quickly fixing the lip gloss stain on your cheek. you step back as he kisses your knuckles for one last time. "after everyone leaves. meet me here."

he calls out for the person outside, you leave the room with confident steps. no one can know anything. you need to go to the bathroom again to fix your appearance.

during the day you can hear aemond's stern voice, your table is close to his door. you try to pay attention to work as much as you can, it's hard sometimes having him so close but not being able to be next to him all day. you still need to focus, though, you can't not keep your job just to have him.

it's not really an affair, what you have with aemond. you aren't sure if you can call him your boyfriend now, it's been more than a month since he first made a move. you're his lover, that much is clear. he wants to see you in his apartment, spend his free minutes with you in his office. he tries so hard to keep his hands to himself to stay secret for your reputations. you're not so different.

the hours pass by. your co-workers start leaving their spots. aemond is still in his room, he didn't come out, not even for lunch. you know he's even more tense than he was when you were in his room. you wait patiently until the last person leaves the office.

you knock on his door, his voice comes out exhausted. "can i lock the door?" you ask. he nods. just in case no matter what time it is.

you approach him, he turns his chair to get you to his lap. you settle down on his thighs gently, he pulls you to lean on his chest. "you had so much to do today, hmm?" he asks. it's his soft tone, the one he uses when he's sick of his company and his job, when he only wants to take care of you. "you look tired."

"you should see yourself." you say. his chest moves with a quiet laugh.

he rubs a big hand on your back. "are you hungry?" he asks. you shake your head.

"you should be hungry. you didn't have anything for lunch." you say.

"i'm hungry." he whispers against your lips. "i've been starved all day."

"aemond-"

"the day exhausted me, sweetheart. my head's pounding with their stupid voices, all complaining, all talking out of their asses. i don't have the energy to play games with you now."

you feel a gentle rush of wave on your chest. he has a lot of responsibilities, needs a get away from them. you're the same in a way. running your fingers through his long hair, you watch him closing his eye. his lips part when your fingertips rub his scalp.

giving him a small kiss first, you angle his head the way you need. he kisses you back, hands on your waist to keep you steady. his fingers play with your skirt, your hands get lost in his hair to keep him pressed against you.

just when he moves to kiss your neck, you breathe in his name. no one would believe aemond targaryen to be a gentle man in bed, you think. people are terrified of him most of the time, he looks dangerous and intimidating. he wants to be feared and respected, he's both. he's also a nice man when he wants to be, with you.

"maybe we should leave." you say, his lips on the curve of your neck. "your apartment- oh!"

his teeth make a mark on your skin, you are pulled against him without meaning to. he kisses the mark, lips soothing the ache.

"we can leave." he says. "after i make you come on that couch."

"aemond-" you start protesting but he takes you in his arms, leaving his chair to get you on the couch in his office.

"i need it." he says, sternly. "you're not gonna keep your voice down, you hear me? i'll hear everything i do to you."

you nod. he parts your thighs to settle down between them.

"words." he demands.

"i won't keep quiet." you say, laying down properly.

"good." aemond says. he kisses your knee.

pulling your panties aside, not bothering to take them off, he takes in the sight of your cunt. you try to take calm breaths but it's hard when he's looking at you like a starved man. you adjust your hips to get his hands on you.

"already getting wet for me." he whispers.

"you- you neglected me." you say, voice shaking. "for the past week."

"i suppose i did." he says, putting his fingers on your cunt. "i guess i should apologise properly."

he kisses your inner thigh before moving his fingers slowly to open your cunt for him. he teases your entrance, a thumb on your poor clit. he starts giving you a few gentle rubs on the nub, you moan his name when he presses a bit harder. "mm-hmm." you hum, satisfied. "please."

he puts a finger inside slowly, trying to increase your wetness. you move against him, clenching once around his long finger. "what's that?" he asks, his cock getting hard against his suit pants. "not enough for you?"

you clench involuntarily again, his thumb presses insistently. "no." he says. "i guess not."

another finger inside, you get wetter each second. he numbs your brain, your mind shutting off slowly. he moves his fingers in you with a perfect pace, searching, searching.

you make a louder noise when he hits it. he's the devil.

"there it is." he says, lips curled in satisfaction. "i know you like the back of my hand."

"you should-" you start, thoughts linger in your mind. "you should do something then."

"i think," he says, stops moving his hand. "you have forgotten your manners. you should be nice if you want something."

"aemond." you whisper, your eyes are closed. your breathing quickens, you are so close. "please. please. i need you back."

he puts his hand where it belongs but he's slower this time. "don't rush." he says. "we have time."

"i just-" you're so close to your tears, or your orgasm. you have no control over your body. "please."

aemond is throughly satisfied. he keeps his pace quick and hard on you, fucking his fingers into you with a rough thumb on your clit. you move against him deliciously, he rubs his desperate cock on your thigh. he gets faster, hitting your sweet spots all at once. it's hard to believe he was only your boss weeks ago.

you hold onto his free wrist as you come. you're whining, pressing yourself to him, nails digging into his skin. his name falls from your lips, he watches the liquid coating his fingers with a fascinated expression.

he's still hard against your leg but he doesn't care about it. not when you're almost passing out on him, not when you look so soft. he's taking pride in giving you what you want, what you need. you sigh in content.

aemond pulls your hair back to see your face. you give him a smile. "can i-" you reach for his hardness. he stops your hand halfway.

"not here, sweetheart." he says. "we can leave when you feel better. i'm gonna take care of you at home, okay?"

you hum, try to get your strength back on your bones. you stretch like a cat, a bit sleepy under his gaze. you manage to sit, even give him a kiss on his neck. he's free of his tie, a few buttons of his shirt are open. a faint lip gloss stain remains on his skin after your kiss.

"we can leave." you say. "let me get my things."

he nods, standing up to get his car keys and his phone. you unlock the door to go get your stuff, your legs are still shaking. the wetness is uncomfortable just a bit but you think you'll be okay until you get to aemond's apartment.

he comes to your side. "i'm ready." you say to him. he nods.

you don't know what he's waiting for. he looks like he's unsure of something. "something wrong?" you ask.

"no, no." he says quickly, shaking his head. "i was just- thinking of holding your hand."

you laugh, giving him the most precious smile he got from someone. you never know when but sometimes he acts so sweetly, you wanna keep him in your bed forever. he's so different from the man he is during the day.

"i'm glad you find it funny." he snorts. "come on."

"i'm not mocking you." you say. "it's just- you know no one would believe me if i say aemond targaryen is shy when he's asking to hold my hand."

"thank god, i'm not trying to convince anyone with my affections towards you then." he says with that charming tone. fuck him, he knows what he's doing. "can i please hold your hand now?"

"of course." you say, giving him your hand. he doesn't let go until he gets you in his car.

[teddy06writes]

Get Some Rest

Tommy Shelby x gn!reader

Prompt: "Either go to bed and get some rest willingly, or I will drag your ass down the hall kicking and screaming. Don't think I won't."

Trigger Warnings: Some swearing, stubborn Tommy,

Summary: Your husband has been suffering migraines since the incident involving Father Hughes. This of course doesn't stop Tommy from overworking himself even when he can feel one coming on, or from being a stubborn bastard when you try to get him to rest.

{Support me on ko-fi}

The office was quiet, save for the grandfather clock ticking away steadily in the corner. He'd dragged the curtains closed haphazardly some time ago, and so now the room was dappled unevenly in fading late afternoon light.

You stood in the doorway, silent for a moment, watching your husband.

Tommy leaned low over his desk, a hand pressed to his brow as he attempted to focus on the paperwork before him. An abandoned cigarette sat smoldering in the ashtray at his elbow, long forgotten.

You cleared your throat softly, stepping into the room properly, "Tommy?"

He sat up, looking half startled for a moment before his eyes finally focused on you, and he let out a sigh, "Yes, darling?"

"Are you alright?" Even as the words left your mouth you knew that his next words would be outright lies.

He sniffed a bit, rubbing at his temples, "Fine. Just- catching up on business."

You had worked your way across the room, and were standing in front of his desk now, "Your heads not bothering you at all?"

Tommy looked up at you, and you raised an eyebrow, almost daring him to brush you off again. After a moment, he sighed, nodding, "Started up again around noon. Can't seem to shake it."

"I thought as much. Come on, you need some rest." You motioned for him to stand up.

"I don't-"

You crossed your arms, "Either go to bed and get some rest willingly, or I will drag you down the hall kicking and screaming. Don't think I won't, Thomas Shelby."

Reluctantly, Tommy pulled himself up out of his chair, rounding the desk and taking your outstretched hand. You led him back through the house to your shared bedroom, where you had already taken the liberty of drawing the curtains tightly against the setting sun.

Tommy sat on the edge of the bed, taking the tablets that you pressed into his hand with a sigh, "Thank you, love."

You pressed your lips together for a long moment, holding back a sigh, "Why didn't you take a break when it started, Tom?"

He just closed his eyes, tossing back the pills, before moving to lay back in bed. Biting your annoyance, you rounded the bed, settling against the headboard before maneuvering his head into your lap.

Despite his reluctance to answer you, he moved willingly, practically melting under your touch as you began to card your hands through his hair, massaging at his scalp.

"You need to take better care of yourself, Tommy love."

He only hummed, reaching up to squeeze your arm in quiet appreciation.