#quick recs

[boombox-fuckboy]

For the podcast recommendations. I've already got such a long list but would love to hear about any lesser known shows I should add! My favs are Moonbase Theta, Out, Second Star to the Left, The Pasithea Powder and The Vesta Clinic. I'm not a big fan of horror. Thanks!

Solid podcasts. I think you should add Trial and Error, Breathing Space, This Planet Needs a Name, Crash of the Mellifera, and if you're feeling brave, Tell No Tales.

[mrghostrat]

Though he’d promised Aziraphale his attention, his head was turned towards a screen on his right, and the angle of his camera suggested the phone was tucked at the base of his keyboard and monitor. Aziraphale was actually grateful for it; Crowley’s momentary distractedness gave him the time to recover from the sight of him dressed up so professionally. “I, er— yes. I need your help though.” Crowley turned to him suddenly, leaning in close and grinning like a shared secret. Big Name Feelings • 3. Speeding Up

i am so at peace. 5 hrs totally zenned out on these colours. i'm gonna see his face in my dreams 🥰

[occudo]

Highly inappropriate-

-or there are times, when asking your vampire collague for a kiss clean up is a perfectly reasonable thing to do, don't worry about it. Re-reread @milkteamoon 's Tounge to Teeth , and well, I had to draw them again

[thusspoketrish]

Tumblr did me dirty cos I posted something smutty! Anyways, here's a censored version! Please check out the fic on AO3 for the full version. Thanks again to the brilliant @artmistersealy, you captured this scene from Long for Bliss! beautifully! ❤️✨

[getawayfox]

“Harry.” Potter said, with a filthy grin. “I think if you’re going to put your cock in me, you should get used to calling me Harry all the time.” Draco stood up, and Potter’s eyes dropped down to his crotch. He grinned again. “Knew it. Massive erection.” “Shut up and get moving, Harry.”

Quote from a stunning fic that bowled me over with it's loveliness, incredible worldbuilding with details that crawled into my heart and made a nest, and the best established relationship I have ever seen: Nothing Gold Can Stay by @moonflower-rose (Drarry, E, 40k)

[qprstobin]

Stobin Different First Meeting AU where they go to prom together. This was meant to be an au post and turned into a mini fic oops (written completely within a tumblr post so sorry for the poor quality)

(edit: realized I should link the fic I was inspired by for those who don't follow me and so didn't see me reblog it earlier)

Steve doesn't necessarily want to go to prom, right? Like yeah, he'd been imagining it for a while, but now that he was very, very single it just didn't have the same shine that it used to. And he really wasn't ready to start dating yet. However, he didn't want to just, not go to prom, and also knew it would seem really weird (and pretty fucking sad) if he didn't go.

Which leaves him in a conundrum.

He thought for a while that maybe he would go with one of the junior cheerleaders. While he didn't have any close friends anymore, he was still friendly with plenty of people. There were girls that wouldn't be going to prom unless they had a senior boyfriend - some he had even gone on dates with in the past who wouldn't think a single prom date meant that he wanted a new girlfriend.

However, he is pretty sure most of those girls would have... other expectations for the night. And honestly? He isn't quite sure that he was ready to get back on that horse either.

... Not that he thought women were horses.

He's pretty sure men are normally the ones called horses in riding metaphors.

Anyway.

That left him stuck. He couldn't just not go to prom, but also didn't want to wind up trapped on an actual date with someone. So who could he ask?

His solution ended up coming from an odd place.

Robin Buckley was... quite honestly, kind of a weirdo.

She was cute, in an alternative sort of way. She never took any of his shit (he wasn't completely sure she even liked him) but also reluctantly laughed at the snarky shit he said under his breath during their Film History class. And not in the fake giggly way girls did when they were flirting, but didn't actually care about what he was saying, just the way he said it. She actually seemed to think he was funny. Even if that revelation seemed to piss her off.

The only reason he was even in Film History that semester - and therefore, knew who she was - was for the easy A. He got to watch movies in class, and watch movies for homework. He was willing to plow through a couple of shitty essays in exchange for a class that he didn't feel like a complete idiot in.

(Well, he was pretty sure Robin thought he was an idiot about movies, but just because he had trouble remembering the names and shit of characters, didn't mean he couldn't analyze the themes, fuck you very much, Buckley.)

They had gotten assigned a project together early on, and it hadn't been completely terrible. She had quickly taken over doing most of the writing portions, but hadn't thought all of his ideas were terrible. By the end of the project he thought they were even sort of having fun together.

He'd always been one to try his luck, take a little more than he was given. So, after that assignment was over, he started sitting next to her in class, not wanting that easy, if sharp, camaraderie to end. Robin rolled her eyes at him and asked him what he thought he was doing the first time he did it, but she never sent him away.

They ended up chatting more and more during down times, passing notes to each other and sharing sly comments under their breaths during the movies. Steve often had trouble paying attention at school, his mind easily wandering away, and it was almost as bad during most movies, but Robin helped keep him on track.

The class turned into one that was done for the easy grade, a last ditch effort to improve his already hopeless GPA, and became one he actually enjoyed.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of going to prom with Robin. It made the night seem a little less unbearable.

He thought about making a big deal out of asking her, because he knows that's what girls (and even Nancy) had enjoyed for past dances. He quickly scrapped that idea, however, because not only did he not want to put pressure on her like that, but also she seemed to hate public spectacles like that.

Or at least when aimed at her, they both enjoyed watching drama unfold in the halls a bit too much to say she hated it completely.

So Steve waits until the end of the day, their film class being their last, to pull her into an empty classroom. She follows him without question in a show of trust he didn't realize she had in him. The notion warms him, and for some reason makes it more difficult to get the question out.

"Why do I feel like you're about to try to sell me drugs or something?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He squints at her in offense.

"Why is that your first assumption?!"

"I don't know! Why else are you pulling me out of the hallway all secretive like, making sure no one followed us, into an abandoned classroom," she asks, throwing her arms into the air.

"The classroom isn't abandoned, it's the end of the day! Also, who does drug deals on campus, that's just stupid?" He asks rhetorically, before waving one hand through the air, as if trying to erase the current thread of conversation. "That doesn't matter, you're distracting me."

"Well then, get on with it! Some of us have practice we need to get to."

"It's like talking to the kids," he mutters to himself, "Whatever. I wanted to ask - will you go to prom with me?"

That stops Robin up short. There's panic in her eyes now, though Steve isn't sure what exactly put it there. Was his reputation that bad that even band geeks are terrified of getting asked out by him?

"You want to go on a date? With me?" she asks slowly, disbelief coloring her voice, though it doesn't hide her unease.

"No, I want to go to prom with you," he scoffs, "Not go on a date with you."

"That is a date, dingus! The person you go to prom with is literally called your date!"

"Okay, sure, maybe, but I don't actually want to date you," he said, rolling his eyes at her.

Like, okay, he understood his reputation for being... what did she call him last week? A 'huge effing rake'? But that didn't mean that he was trying to date any girl that looked in his direction. A lot of girls looked in his direction. That was too many women, even for him.

Robin relaxes a little at that.

"Then why are you asking me to prom instead of someone you actually want to date?"

"Because!" he says, resisting the urge to flail his hands back at her. "I don't want to date anyone right now. Most people I ask are going to expect all these things from me - they're going to want dinner, and at the very least a kiss at the end of the night if not more, or another date the very next day. Because Steve Harrington is supposed to want those things!" He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair to calm himself. "But right now? I really don't."

"Well then, what does Steve the Hair Harrington actually want?" She had relaxed fully at this point, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"I want to go to prom with someone I consider a friend, someone who makes me laugh," he says after a moment of silence. "I want to dance badly to really corny pop music and drink just enough spiked punch that I don't remember how much I hate wearing any sort of tie. Then I want to go get milkshakes or go see a really trashy midnight horror flick, just because I'm having so much fun I don't want the night to end."

That small smile has grown into a reluctant grin on Robin's face. It makes her eyes shine and her freckles pop. Steve thought that if he was in a better place, if they had met at a different time, he could have fallen in love with her.

But they had met now instead, in some shitty public school elective course, and she was the closest thing he had to a friend that wasn't a snotty middle schooler.

"That sounds... like a lot of fun, actually," she says, mischief sparking on her face. "Who would've known the hidden depths hidden behind all that hair."

"Hey!" he protests half-heartedly, unable to keep a grin of his own off his face. "So what do you say? Wanna go to prom with me?"

"I guess," she sighs, acting like it was such a trial to go to prom with him. Him! But her next words make up for it. "Since we're friends, and all. However, I still expect you to buy me dinner, though you can keep the kiss goodnight to yourself."

Steve can't help the giddy laugh from spilling out of him. For the first time in weeks, he is actually looking forward to prom.

[hephaestiions]

receive

St Peter’s Basilica— Harry succumbs to design, tilts up, up, past the altar, the baldacchino, the soaring, ornate curve of the dome, to its glowing eye. Thirty-three years and the thrall of a watching father still holds: grand, benevolent, unresponsive. Passers-by amble past, chatting, bumping, apologising, Harry’s dead to them until the gasp cuts through the crowd, startling— Draco, Draco, Draco? 

Through the press of stopping-starting bodies, flesh yielding, irritated, to hurried elbows— there, ahead— behind?— stock still and arched in captivation, surreptitious glances brushing up against the line of him and cutting away. There: Draco, transfixed, at the foot of the Pieta. 

He jerks when touched, wide-eyed, strangely rumpled, then turns back to Mary’s stone-serene sorrow. Long minutes congeal with the unspoken.

“He looks heavy,” Draco murmurs, eventually. “To carry— like that.” 

“He is heavy,” Harry says. “He's made of marble.” 

Draco slants him a look, caustic, exasperated. It dissolves within seconds into the cliff’s edge of a smile. 

“The effect’s quite undercut when she’s a sobbing, ten-foot, bearded giant, you know. No���" he waves a hand at the scene, “— tranquillity to that production. Even Michelangelo couldn't save that one.” 

“Jesus Christ."

A beat of resigned silence. Mary maintains her calm. Draco says, “I’m not touching that one in a church.”

–

Later, wine-flushed, clawing at each other, palming through denim and corduroy, Harry moves for the bed, but Draco won’t let him. 

“Stay here,” Draco says, and Harry stills, standing. Draco drops, and the thud of his knees on the wooden floor is loud, louder than the clink of unbuckling, unzipping, a bell in Harry’s mind rung in unceasing echo.

He stays kneeling once it’s over, chest heaving, eyes downcast and trained on the toes of Harry’s boots. Harry grasps at the cool metal doorknob with one hand to struggle himself upright, other tilting Draco’s chin up, up, pushing his thumb into the slack, swollen bud of his mouth, resting it on his still-pulsing tongue. Draco’s eyes spasm shut, and his lips move, soundless, around the space Harry takes up inside. 

Harry pulls his thumb out, runs it, spit-slick, down the ruin of Draco’s jaw. “What did you say?” 

Draco stretches locked fingers above his head, brings them to rest between his spread thighs, knuckles sparse and white where they poke through his grip. The awful reverence in his open eyes spills into Harry's body, blood, soul, mangles the mocking drawl and lazy smile into something real: “Grace.” 

[shortcakecutie]

y/n y/l/n and jacob elordi broke the internet

Jacob Elordi Twitter Au because I am bored <3

[mylovelookup]

⬇️

@justalilguyoops 🧡🧡🧡

[fabbyf1]

You Were The Best (You Were The Worst)

“What do you want?” You. Only you. Always you. “Tell me what you want, Logan.” 

“Oscar, ple—”

“Tell me what you want, and you can have it.” 

“You,” Logan said, not looking away from his eyes. “I want you.” 

“Well, then I’m all yours, baby.”  OR: the angsty estranged-best-friends-to-lovers fic. They haven’t talked since Logan left the grid.

Oscar Piastri/Logan Sargeant | 15k | Read on AO3

[vaguely-concerned]

“Computer, end message,” said the younger Julian Bashir, as flushed with embarrassment as his counterpart had been flushed with arousal. “Computer, belay that order,” said Garak.

Fanart of one of my favorite moments from the amazing fic A Bag Full Of God by @vermin-disciple (The whole series it belongs to is also so so good, please do yourself a favour and check it out if you haven’t already!)

The mental image of a deaged Garak — with his heart full of murder and inadvisable devotion to Tain and Cardassia yet untempered by time and Julian Bashir — still being like ‘no no let’s hear him (you) out we don't know where he's going with this’ as he watches his husband-to-be-in-like-fifty-years perform a loving Space Zoom striptease, while a deaged Julian goes 😳 next to him at the mortifying ordeal of witnessing his future slutty dilf self cheerfully sending nudes… *chef’s kiss* I was laughing so hard that I was wheezing

[boombox-fuckboy]

Hello! I have come for the recommendations!

My favourite podcasts are in no particular order: The Silt Verses, Tma(specifically the more fleshy parts), SCP: find us alive, Archive 81 (loved the deer sounds), WOE.BEGONE (I really like the time travel system), and Not Quite Dead (there's something really genuine about it)

Many thanks in advance

Hm. I think you should try The Harrowing of Minerva Damson, The Blood Crow Stories, The Waystation, Desperado, The Department of Variance of Somewhere Ohio, and if you'd just like some gore, Darkest Night.

[daintylovers]

hi love! maybe a Spencer Reid request where reader is obsessed with collecting trinkets, calico critters, and/or sonny angels. He doesn’t understand it until he opens one himself and then gets obsessed too. Maybe it becomes their thing after a bad case/tiring day?

don’t know if you’ll see this but ty if you do <3

aaahhhhh i love sonny angels!!! i used to have a cherry one on my phone case named soda pop- but he got decapitated when i dropped him too many times :(

so, because i am self-indulgent- sonny angels win!

****

he notices one day, the little baby figurine on your desk. it's new, with bunny ears on its head. his first instinct is that it's a toy for jack. but jack comes and goes that day, and the trinket is still in the same spot.

he wants to ask, maybe it slipped your mind, but holds himself back. it's none of his business. except- a few days later- he spots that penelope has one of the things in her lair. and luckily for him, penelope is always eager to share her findings. so he asks.

apparently, they were called "sonny angels"?? she tells him how they are adorable little collectibles that come in hundreds of different variations. and it's a mystery each time.

a few more days pass after that, filled with the angst of a case gone awry. spence had been tense the whole time, the case hitting too close to home. but with you by his side- he felt like he could manage just a little better.

the next day he comes into the office, two coffees in hand. one for him, and one for you. it was his little way of saying thank you for being there for him. he wasn't too great at voicing his feelings, especially the sappy ones. so he liked to stick to acts of service and gift-giving. he placed the coffee on your desk, then made his way over to his corner.

except, this time he had a little gift wrapped package square in the center of his desk. it was shoddily wrapped, and he wondered who it was from. for a brief second, his overactive imagination tried to convince him it was going to be something gruesome. some crazed lunatic dropping off a finger or a miniature bomb. maybe he should lay off the caffeine after all?

but when he saw you trying to subtly watch him from your desk- he knew he was safe. written on the wrapping was a little note saying, "this is for you, stalker. thanks for being an angel."

he unwrapped it as delicately as possible, wanting to save the note for his box of sentiments at home. just because he couldn't voice the feeling well, didn't mean it wasn't there for him. once he finished, one of the little angel babies was looking back at him.

his heart did a stupid little flutter. he had been asking around, partly because he was looking for himself, but also because he was looking for you. he had wanted to get matching ones or something, not really sure how the whole concept worked.

he opened up the box and saw a head of hydrangeas peeking out.

you watched as he pulled the exact one you were hoping he would pull, and couldn't contain yourself any longer.

bounding over to his desk, bouncing on the tips of your toes you said, "hey- where did you get that?"

he matched your cheeky smile, "not sure, maybe pen? she has one of these on her desk too."

"oh, whatever. she told me you were asking around about my little white rabbit over there. so i decided to save you the hassle."

he just laughed with you, "thank you. but seriously, where do you get these?"

"no way, i can't reveal my secrets."

morgan and emily, interested in the commotion from the other side of the room wandered over to the pair of you.

"wait, how come i don't have one of these little guys?"

safe to say, that in the coming weeks, everyone was sporting little sonny angels on their desks.

but spencer and you continued the little tradition. after a tough case, or even just a bad day, whoever was hurting more would receive a little gift.

you- being a tad dramatic, had more bad days than spencer. so he stuck to his coffee-giving habit for you.

while spence tended to rarely show his bad days. but when he did, he knew that the next day, a new angel would appear on his desk.

[calmlb]

skk | 1.8k | hurt/comfort

read on ao3!

[weaverpop]

In the courtnapped au, does Nezha have any changes to his personality? Assuming Li Jing stays with the brotherhood and eventually Camel Ridge

Yes, he does.

In the OG timeline, he’s about 24 physically, aging slower than even most demons because of being immortal. He likely won’t stop fully until later in life. It’s why Redson and he are seemingly so close in age despite Nezha being so much older.

But in Courtnabbed au, he’s still just a kid, about 14. This au takes place smack dab in the middle of the war, Nezha’s age being one of the reasons Jing didn’t initially go with azure in the OG timeline. Going willingly would have been too dangerous. Getting ‘kidnappped’ seemed to have been safer.

Kids… don’t have the best control at times. Especially not young teens. Nezha’s personality would be much closer to his myths. Loud and quick to anger. Jing has had centuries of experience thankfully, but, especially when you go down the Yin is dead route, he’s only one man.

Nezha is a HANDFUL. Especially when Peng makes him MAD. Poor bird learns quick not to mess with the the Prince, least he be turned into roast chicken. The only reason he hadn’t the first time was because azure asked Jing to stop Nezha.

Peng: “He nearly burnt my wings off!”

Jing, ramping up the drama acting: “Oh for gods- he’s just a kid! You’ve been nothing short of mean to him the whole time he’s been here!”

Azure, mediating: “(To Jing) I’m sorry love I’ll handle this. (to Peng) Beother, please, I beg you leave the poor kid alone.”

Peng: “He litterally insulted me to my face-!”

Azure: “He’s a child Peng. One that’s very far away from home right now. Show some empathy.”

Thankfully, (or unfortunately for Peng) Wukong and macaque are there to help him get out his more chaotic nature. Jing is pleasantly surprised when Nezha is returned on multiple occasions happy and sleepy. Sleepy Nezha = calm Nezha. They eventually become the go-to babysitters, and that support is what allows Nezha to really…. Be a kid.

As for yellow tusk… it’s a meh. Like I said, Nezha is loud and impulsive, so they don’t really interact much. DBK though would be like a fun uncle, though not to Wukong and macaques point. DBK would probably encourage Nezha’s pranking nature, guiding the other in ways that nurture the better pranks rather than the more destructive ones.

Nezha, I would say, is much more carefree. Because the one thing they all have in common? They don’t treat Nezha like a soldier. They don’t treat him like the future heir to the celestial realm. They don’t treat him like the demon child who can only be controlled with a prohoda.

They treat him like the kid he is.

[getawayfox]

“Are you awake?” Harry asked softly. “No.” Draco pulled the covers and flipped onto his side, away from Harry. It didn't deter him. “If you say so.” Which was Harry for ‘you are a fucking liar’ but it was too early and the sun slanted too bright in their tiny room, even if Harry was laying kisses on his bare shoulder. “Could you wake up?” “Do what you must without waking me.” “I'm not talking about fucking you, I'm talking about breakfast.”

Quote from the lovely and tender slice of life fic Find New Ways by @skeptiquewrites (Drarry, M, 3.6k)