#so. yeah. uh. it’s a good idea to take care of your stuff. especially if they’re fragile.

[vidavalor]

re: dust-- etymologically tied to words also relating to smoke/mist/vapor. Dust in the 'ashes to ashes' sense but also dust in the sense of you have to dust to clean/preserve/start fresh. Idioms related to dust are about revolution and sex-and-death.

To "bite the dust" is to be killed, used as one of the most famous examples of sex-and-death/destructive sexual metaphor by Queen in "Another One Bites the Dust" (aw, take it/bite the dust/bite the dust, yeah...). It's a sex-and-death metaphor in a song that is also about a very literal, deadly problem that was related to sex during the very long earlier days of the HIV pandemic.

To "kick up the dust", though, is to cause an uproar. It's to disturb the settled order of things, which is necessary for things to change. You kick up dust when you're dusting. Without Gabriel kicking up the dust in Heaven and in the bookshop, nothing would have ever been able to change. Dusting is saying nah to Armageddon just as much as it's, uh, literally dusting the books in the bookshop. 😂

Another idiom we say that means basically the same thing as to "kick up some dust"?... "To upset the apple cart." The tomato, known in England until the 18th century, as "the love apple"...

The Oslo Revival album:

Come On Over to Our Third Floor Apartment

We’re Having a Party

Just for You

Four in a Bed

Have This Drink

It Doesn’t Taste Weird

We’ll Take Care of You

We Love You

You’re One of Us Now

Together Forever

Couple of different ways of looking at this, though I absolutely agree with your impression of the creepy feel to it. Like you said, it can go in different directions with wildly different meanings, and both the story and the etymology of the words chosen supports that.

For instance, the same set of words in these song titles that gives us the creeps because it sounds very much that it relates to ideas we're having about love bombing and Crowley having fallen into Satan's web also can be interpreting using the same words to have different meanings, including a much more positive one, and all interpretations are likely correct at once.

So, first, there's the positive meaning of how this relates to Gabriel's story. When you say it aloud, "Oslo Revival" actually sounds like "Our Slow Revival", meaning a return to trying to go more slowly after the anxiety of Armageddon (even if that anxiety is still present in S2). A revival can also be an awakening, which would then kind of refer to all of the angels and demons as a whole.

What is offered in our slow/oslo revival? The album title-- to "come on over to our third floor apartment." As you pointed out, this is a very American way to put this. "Come on over" is American in rhythm and Americans say 'apartment' rather than 'flat.' America can be symbolic of freedom and liberation in the story so we could say that the lure of those things is what draws people in. (Would be helpful if we were living up to that irl but I digress. *sigh*)

Depending on who is doing the inviting, this can be good or it can be awful. You can have a positive experience-- like Gabriel being safe in the bookshop-- or you can have the worst kind of experience-- like Crowley and Beez did with Lucifer. There's also the different floors thing that "third floor apartment" brings up that has to do with a difference between how the U.K. and the U.S. measure floor levels. Since we have all this stuff with lifts/elevators, it seems especially relevant in S2.

In the U.S., we have a thing that I understand doesn't really exist much in the U.K. known as "the ground floor," which is what is just known as the first floor in the U.K.. The idiom "getting in on the ground floor" comes from this-- it means starting with a project or a business from its inception.

I bring it up because this means that what a "third floor" is in the U.S. is different from what one is in the U.K.. In the U.S., it can go: ground/1/2/3, etc., while, in the U.K., it would be more like: 1/2/3, etc. The third floor in the U.S. is what the U.K. would call the fourth floor.

In some countries, there's actually no recognized fourth floor at all. It's considered unlucky so it's skipped entirely and the third floor is then beneath the fifth floor. So, hidden in the third floor/fourth floor apartment thing might be a nod towards the deception present in the creepy way this is all phrased because the idea is that the offer to "come on over our third floor apartment" is really that it's a fourth floor apartment that doesn't exist. Might go along with the idea of the offer in The Final 15 being as bullshit as it seems.

On the other hand, if you take it just as the third floor in an American sense? And in a residential sense? Sometimes, basements are counted as a floor in a house so a third floor apartment would be one floor up from the street level floor of a residence. It's essentially the upstairs in the bookshop, like where Gabriel was staying in S2.

So that brings us to the rest of the song titles. What is being offered? To "have this drink" that "doesn't taste weird." While the love bombing take on this is chill-inducing because of the connotation that the drink is laced, one, other meaning of the word weird is supernatural, stemming from The Wyrd Sisters of Macbeth, who are inspired by the goddesses in control of fate.

Ironically, the same word that very much does have a creepy connotation that is implying that the one who drinks the drink is going to experience a loss of control actually also comes from a word related to the supernatural that is historically related to control.

If you apply that bit to the Gabriel scenario, then a drink that doesn't taste weird is the hot chocolate. It doesn't taste supernatural-- it's a bit of the human world and a relief to Gabriel. It also doesn't taste strange or gross to him. One of the first things we see in his first scene is how put off by tea he is. Aziraphale offers him something else, instead, and he loves it. In this take, the same words that echo something dark are also underscoring something that is not creepy but sweet. Both Crowley and Aziraphale give Gabriel hot chocolate during S2 and it's just cute. It's Gabriel experiencing some of the joys of the human world and getting free from the oppression of Heaven.

We can also apply this a bit to the scenes relating to offered drinks and how respecting a person's choice over them illustrating who places an emphasis on autonomy and consent and who doesn't. Our main characters all do.

Gabriel is emphatic about making sure that Beez doesn't feel pressure to drink and Crowley is fine with Aziraphale not wanting wine in Uz. No one forces Muriel to drink tea, just offers it. Same with Gabriel and the hot chocolate. This is all healthy and provides a contrast to the scene that isn't towards which the season builds-- The Coffee in The Final 15, when there is an implicit pressure for Aziraphale to drink it, further suggesting who Our Villain might be. It's framed as a choice but we can all feel a sense of Aziraphale being trapped.

This is when the wording of the rest of the tracks on the Oslo Revival album comes in, too, because what's the benign result of the offered drink being accepted in these cases? We love you/You're one of us now/Together forever, per the album track titles.

The same words that feel eerie when we're on the love bombing track of this are also sweet if we're taking more the Gabriel-like track with it. The reassurance of we love you-- which, when genuine, is lovely. We love you, you're not alone, you can have a rest and some food and drink here, we'll take care of you. We'll help you. We'll all be a team-- we'll be friends, together forever. That's awfully literal, too, for the supernatural entities 😂 They've got Gabriel now for eternity. What else is in the tracks?

How about the "four to a bed." One original meaning of bed is a garden bed. Etymologically, the track title is also saying that being friends puts you all in the garden together and, since the garden can be paradise, it means that it's nice to be there with people you care about and not alone but... since a garden can also be a bit of a trap if you can't figure out how to get out of it, it can refer to letting in friends and helping each other get out of each other's Edens, bookshops, and M-25 burning rings of fire.

I think that the "four to a bed" part also refers to how if you let someone in, you bring with them the people they have let in, too. All season long, an element of Beez is literally flying around the bookshop because Gabriel brought them along. Giving Gabriel the hot chocolate when he came on over to the two oslo revival's third floor apartment means that there's now four in a metaphorical garden together-- Crowley and Aziraphale and Gabriel and Beez.

So, that's the positive take on it, right? But then there's also that a bed was also a word for a grave at one point-- four to a bed, as in everybody's in the same boat and they're all in trouble. (It's also in keeping with a lot of the sex-and-death happening in the wordplay in different spots throughout.) There seems to be a sense in there of getting into how someone's struggles can affect those around them?

There's also the "We're Having a Party." Party is a funny word because it means a gathering of a group of people but, etymologically, it's actually related to dividing and separating people. I'd say that's definitely what Our Villain was trying to do in The Final 15 but a party in The Meeting Ball sense of unity-- something more positive-- is then the same words working in the story of our main characters. As you pointed out already, the "We'll Take Care Of You" that means just that when we're talking about our kind main characters also has the level of being mafia speak for killing somebody.

What do you think is happening in the scene when Crowley falls to the ground in pain in Tadfield?! I find your thoughts about Satan and Crowley really interesting and sorry if you've already mentioned it but I think I've gobbled up all your metas on the subject and didn't see it. Thank you 🤗

Hi there! 💕 Thanks for reading & asking. I have an assortment of Christmas cookies to share. *gets the plates* Sugar feels extra necessary for Satan-related Crowley meta...

Let's talk about that 1.06 scene you mentioned where Crowley is dragged to the ground by Satan in Tadfield, what it has to do with a motif throughout both seasons around a thing known as proskynesis, and how all of that is relevant to The Final 15 in S2.

TW: rape (mentions of the non-consensual possession-as-rape allegory).

Note: Themes of bodily autonomy and its relationship to freedom overlap between Good Omens and Terry Pratchett's Discworld and that's the main reason why some of us are still here, not giving up on this rare, A+++ survivor story, despite also wanting to hurl a certain, other person once involved with it into an active volcano. Considering the topic, I felt the need to just mention that at the start.

Sooo... let's talk about what the scene in your ask has to do with a bunch of other ones, including that scene in The Final 15...

Good Omens has a few scenes that are dealing with a thing known as proskynesis. If you're unfamiliar with this, it's a word describing rituals of reverence and worship in royal courts, as formed originally in various parts of the ancient world, like Persia, Greece, and Rome, as well as rituals involving religious worship across many different religions.

Aspects of proskynesis exist into the present in different ways in different cultures. For societies that are monarchies, proskynesis is at the root of rituals regarding how subjects in those societies address royalty. Everything from kissing the ring of high-ranking clergy in some churches to doing the same with some mafia leaders has historical ties to this. Things like bowing and curtsying customs in Victorian England can also be rooted back to proskynesis.

There are also elements of it in everyday manners and customs in societies that you wouldn't think would have any connection in the modern world to things like this. In many democracies, for instance, as in many other countries of the world, the custom of getting down on one knee to propose marriage is actually rooted in proskynesis, even if the partnership is (hopefully) more equal in today's societies.

The Japanese, who have an intricate system of bowing as part of the social expectations of their society, are a great example of how proskynesis elements have evolved to not necessarily be related to royalty or religious worship but also form the roots of manners between people throughout all classes of a society.

The rules of proskynesis in a society or a religious group varied in details a bit between cultures but has always had the same, general, wide gap between different types of actions.

As a general rule, there's a polite head bob of a bow on one end of the spectrum of proskynesis, with different bows then getting progressively lower and more intense, until we're closer to the other, more extreme end of the spectrum. That end involves kneeling at the feet of the king or in worship of a deity. The absolute, opposite end of that spectrum from that polite, head nod/bob of a bow is fully prostrating, which is lying fully on the ground, and what of this is tied to the scene in your ask, as we'll look at here.

The sketch below is a good, simple visual of what I mean:

[User: Arseni on Wikipedia]

What's interesting to note here is that when you look at the above sketch and see different movements in it that are associated with different religions, these things came to those religions by first being associated with the royal court of ancient Persia and then being adopted, in part, into Greece and Rome. What physical worshipping in a religious way looks like to this day was adopted into different religions from how humans were showing deference to other humans as royalty.

One, big debate in Christianity is actually what kind of proskynesis was given to Jesus. The word is found in The New Testament but Jesus is the perfect example of the blurred lines here between venerating a human being and treating one like a god.

There are different levels of proskynesis for religious figures, with saints and the like being ok to venerate but proskynesis involving full worship supposed to remain only for God. What kind of treatment Jesus received or should have received and what he thought about it is a matter of debate. Is he a carpenter or is he a king of kings, right? Is he human or is he supernatural... or is he both?

Crowley and Aziraphale struggle with this, too, but what they wind up doing is not technically proskynesis but it's arguably a lot better. They bear witness to Jesus' suffering and murder. They show him empathy and respect. The scene we see shows them talking about him a bit, as two people might do at any wake or funeral or the like for ages to come.

When it came to royalty, what kind of proskynesis you would perform would be dependent in different courts on your rank and your relationship to the king. You might be expected to grovel with some really low bows if you were of low rank or to have a more modest bow or to kiss the king, if you were of higher rank. The lower ranked people were expected to go lower in their bows and do more work with all of this, in order for even the chance of being recognized by the king or another high-ranked royal.

When Crowley mocks Beez, addressing them formally as Lord Beezlebub, he does a formal bow, complete with the proper foot positioning-- you can see him step into it from how his hips move. He bows almost to the waist, complete with flourishing hand gestures that are showing mock-fealty and deference to the Grand Duke of Hell by sarcastically treating them as if they were a king.

This scene which, as we'll see, is related to the one in your ask, is only one example of a couple of Crowley sassing the fuck out of someone, specifically by using proskynesis. It also adds to the chilling nature of the scene in your ask by having occurred just a matter of moments prior.

Beez lets it pass entirely because they're really only Lord Beezlebub in an attempt to project power enough to try to survive Hell. Their title is more about self-protection than it is about an expectation of deference-- which is something that Crowley also knows and is at the heart of the mockery.

Like Aziraphale, with his respectful bowing to his friend in gratitude for the sushi in 1.01, Crowley has no issue with a polite, non-religious, non-royal version of proskynesis. If worshipping the humans is wrong, Crowley and Aziraphale don't wanna be right. They don't revere individual humans as kings or gods but they do revere humanity itself as a whole in that way. They show polite respect to those sharing that with them or educating them in it.

They also do that with one another. Crowley's soft, polite nod of a bow to Aziraphale when they meet in Eden is gentlemanly. It's respectful but not in a way that isn't just treating Aziraphale as an equal. Nina gets a similar treatment when they meet in S2.

Crowley still does something similar into the modern era with Aziraphale-- note the little nod/bow when Aziraphale accepts his lunch invitation in S1.

This is all very much on the egalitarian end of proskynesis; it's in where it basically formed parts of the foundation of gestures related to having good manners in different societies. It's respect and acknowledgement between people who view and treat one another as equals, as is the case with Crowley and Aziraphale.

Their relationship is one that is built around equality, free choice, and consent. Therefore, when Crowley apologizes in S2 in another scene that is related to the one in your ask by being an intentional, totally opposite contrast to it, Aziraphale can barely contain his laughter at Crowley's mock-submissive dance. The dance, in many ways, is really a satire of proskynesis.

Crowley is doing this "yes, my king" dance for Aziraphale with tongue firmly in cheek. The dance is poking fun at the difference between general submissiveness, which Crowley loathes and likes to mock, and voluntary sexual submission with one another, which different scenes have shown us that they both periodically enjoy as some light fun from time to time.

Aziraphale is desperately trying not to laugh long enough to reply with equal humor in his dry, self-aware, soft dom voice. He can't resist smiling a bit and mimes a kiss at Crowley-- seeing Crowley's droll mocking of proskynesis-- which is etymologically linked to words related to kissing and which can involve it in different stages-- and replying by bestowing upon Crowley a kiss.

Aziraphale is intentionally doing something that isn't really the result of proskynesis when in the royal circles that Crowley is referencing with The Apology Dance. The subject is meant to seek the king's favor and would be the one, if ranked high enough to warrant such a relationship with royalty, who would kiss the king-- not the other way around. By miming a kiss at Crowley, Aziraphale is meeting Crowley's mocking of inequitable aspects of proskynesis with some mocking of his own by being miming a kiss at Crowley, who is his equal and partner.

There's also a droll joke in there where the only royal subject of a king who could reasonably have expected a kiss from the king, if maybe not always in a public setting, was the king's queen. So, Crowley's whole mocking Apology Dance has a joking, "yes, my king" vibe to it and Aziraphale's response is to show equal humor towards and affection for the person who is-- in all senses of the word-- his queen.

The end of Crowley's dance is a combination curtsy and what's known as a bow-and-scrape-- the thing from which the phrase "to bow and scrape" comes. The scrape is the movement of the foot behind a person across the floor, done to be able to go lower to the floor on the bow.

To "bow and scrape" was to basically grovel in this really overly demonstrative way for favor with the king, in the hopes that he'd be impressed by your humiliating submission enough to bestow favor upon you. The phrase now refers to doing a large amount of work or groveling to someone in a position in authority, usually with the suggested reward likely not forthcoming.

The second word in the phrase-- scrape-- also contains the word for the thing Crowley has survived at the hands of that fucking monster, Satan, who lives for the demons to bow and scrape for his favor. That's intentional on Crowley's part-- the end of this apology dance is also a visual pun on the word scrape, which contains the word rape, and this while he's doing this mocking dance that is a perfect example of how completely different and very healthy his relationship with Aziraphale is by how he is free to be this hilarious, sassy shit with his partner versus the forced subjugation by his assailant.

You might think that wordplay-- visual or otherwise-- involving the word rape is a bit dark. I won't disagree with that but I just want to briefly show you other examples of it that I've noticed so you can see what they're showing as the rationale for it between Crowley and Aziraphale. It's actually more of an empowering thing when you see other examples of it that are in other scenes.

Crowley and Aziraphale's cant vocabulary-- their invented hidden language-- uses a lot of words-within-words, just like how rape lives within scrape. If you consider that, you might also notice a couple of foods that recur in Good Omens that also are related to this. In Crowley and Aziraphale's language and in their life together, food is food but food is also figurative language for sex. Their healthy relationship and all the food and sex that is part of their life together is their answer to the traumas they've both suffered.

It's sensual, mindful living that focuses on healthier, positive experiences that help them to provide one another with a quality of life that the pain of Heaven and Hell does not. As a result, some frequently mentioned food and drink is held up between them as examples of the loving, enjoyable, pleasurable relationship with one another that they have that stands in contrast to Heaven and, especially, Hell.

Crowley enjoys wine, right? Which is made from? Grapes, as Aziraphale orders in 1601...

The opposite of the rape-related issues that Aziraphale unintentionally triggered in Crowley in 1793, for example, is what he then offers him for lunch-- both figurative and euphemistic crepes.

Not coincidentally, that's also what Aziraphale suggested the day after Crowley was assaulted by Satan on the night Armageddon began-- the crepes of Paris, 1793-- and Crowley, as we could see, was all for it:

Another covert reference to this is Aziraphale's magic trick of changing a turnip into an inkwell. It's a metaphor on a couple of different levels but one of them is that the word rape overlaps with a type of plant that is also called that and is the category name for a group of plants and vegetables, the most famous of which is the turnip.

Turnips are also a pretty clever food metaphor for rape. They have been in existence for forever and are, horrifyingly, really common, but no one-- no one lol-- has ever really wanted to eat a turnip. They're not a terribly appealing food and I would wager that if you lined up every person on the planet and asked them to name a delicious food no one-- at all-- would say the turnip.

So, adding that into the etymology of the vegetable being tied to the word rape, then turning "the common turnip" into "an inkwell"-- when sea creatures, like octopi, are often sources of ink, and 'well' meaning both healthy and a flowing source of liquid? It's Aziraphale making a magic trick that is a metaphor for him helping Crowley heal from the rape-related inorgasmia referenced subtly in a few, other scenes, and which is the subject of the Fish meta, if you're interested in that.

Anyway, the healthy, humorous, proskynesis-mocking apology dance is one of the scenes that serves as a direct contrast to the scene in your ask where Crowley is forced to the ground by Satan in Tadfield. That scene involves the other, more extreme end of proskynesis, which is number 6 on the sketch near the start of the meta: prostration.

To be clear: how people want to worship in any way, if they do, is no one's business, so long as it's not harming anyone else. There's nothing inherently wrong with any of this if it's of someone's free will. The scene in your ask, though, doesn't involve free choice, it involves forced subjugation, which is from where the horror of it comes.

Prostration involves lying flat and face down on the ground with your arms outstretched. It involves kissing the feet of the king or the ground that you believe belongs to the deity you're worshipping.

Prostration is complete submission. It's basically a rejection of any sense of self in full deference to the king or the deity.

In Hell, all the demons are seen as belonging to Satan. Several of them, like Hastur and Shax, refer to Satan as "our Master." They are all seen as Satan's subjects and his property-- all known as a collective referred to by Hastur in S1 as The Fallen, as we also looked at in relation to Aziraphale being Mr. Fell in this meta.

In Heaven and Hell's view, The Fallen do not belong to themselves but to Satan. Crowley's sense of autonomy and his relationship with Aziraphale are secrets he keeps because of how they conflict with Hell, where he's not supposed to have any other desire but to live to serve his rapist, who believes that he owns him.

All of Crowley's mocking of anything more than a polite nod when it comes to proskynesis is more than just being generally anti-royalty and anti-authority. The root cause of all of it is Satan.

In the scene in Tadfield, Satan is forcing Crowley to first kneel and, then, to prostrate, before him.

When Crowley clutches one hand to his chest and uses his other hand under him to keep himself an inch or two above ground, he's doing so in an effort to resist fully prostrating.

He's trying to keep his hands from being pulled out in front of him and to keep up enough to keep his lips from kissing the ground in forced subjugation to Satan.

This is probably the darkest scene in the show-- even darker, maybe, than 1.01's scene of Satan attacking Crowley in The Bentley-- because this is a whole new level of horror here. Crowley is shaking with the pain of fighting for enough control over himself to keep from prostrating any more than he is being forced to. This is happening with other people present-- including Aziraphale and kids, including Satan's own kid-- with the obvious humiliation factor being part of the attack.

Unlike in 1.01, when Satan took complete control of Crowley to a point that he couldn't speak, he's left him that ability in this scene, getting off on hearing Crowley protest. This scene shocks because the 1.01 scene of Satan attacking Crowley, and subsequent scenes reinforcing the non-consensual possession-as-rape allegory throughout the story, lead the viewer to believe that this is how it will always be referred to in the story. It lulls us into a sense of complacency where we think we know what the show will do, which has the desired effect of making this scene, in which they shift that tone pretty dramatically, all the more impactful and terrifying.

Furthering the allegorical here is that Crowley is outmatched, power-wise, for the most part, but is putting up a fight. He's moved by an assailant against his will, quite violently. He's dragged to his knees and then pushed forward to the ground. He's in pain and distressed, he's lost control of his body, his legs end up splayed, he pulls in on himself as much as he can, and he's repeatedly saying the word no. I think it might be pretty much impossible to make a scene full of more direct correlations to rape than this scene. They're doing so to really underline this survivor story with Crowley that is running through so many of the other scenes.

Crowley grabs his right leg when he is forced down to the tarmac, presumably because that's the side that is being forced to move by Satan to drag Crowley to his knees. It's possible, though, that this might be also be an allusion to the aftermath of 1827.

When we saw Crowley in 1862 in the scene that functions as him still trying to deal with what happened in 1827, Crowley was carrying that cane that many think was more than a fashion statement. Something that could cause Crowley periodic pain, while also still allowing for other scenes in which he pretty clearly isn't in any pain, is the possibility that, in the 1827 aftermath, Satan broke one or both of Crowley's legs.

As any of us who have ever broken a part of our human corporations know, they can often be painful long after they heal and frequently subject to weather and stress. It's possible that Crowley had recurring pain for decades and might still into today. This is all speculative but why else might this idea also fit?

Possibly just because there are so many scenes in Good Omens that are nothing but Crowley just walking freely or hopping, owning his human body by sauntering around on the legs that are often symbolic of his life as a human of Earth, as he very notably doesn't have them in snake form... and his snake form is something that he associates negatively with his fall and Hell.

Crowley's walk at any given time is related to his sense of empowerment and, sweetly, there are also a bunch of scenes of Aziraphale just gazing at Crowley as he walks around. Including, darkly, the one that was happening when Crowley was dragged to Hell in 1827:

The scene related to this that I like best, though, is when Crowley and Aziraphale both get one over on Satan and The Metatron by successfully hiding Gabriel in S2. They grin at one another as Crowley hops down from the chair, fully in his body, landing gracefully and happily on the legs that, whether once broken or not, we have seen in 1.06 ripped out from under him by Satan before.

Hell also has some Godfather-referencing, mafia-like nods in different scenes in the series and breaking someone's legs is kind of classic mob stuff but, really, I think it's more tied to the whole forced subservience snake thing. Crowley, telling Aziraphale that he'd changed his name to one we learn in S2's Job minisode is associated for Crowley with freedom, autonomy, choice, and Aziraphale...

...from one that is "a bit too squirming-at-your-feet-ish" to Crowley. It's a comment made more horrifying when 1.06's scene in Tadfield makes it clear that this isn't just a metaphor here-- Crowley's unwillingness to be Crawly and his discomfort with being a snake makes even more sense once we have this scene in Tadfield that sees Satan knock his human legs out from under him and force him into literally squirming like a snake at his feet.

No wonder why Snake!Crowley has a tendency to prefer roaring like a lion when transforming into a snake-like monster, like he did in the paintball scene...

Crowley and Aziraphale working to reframe and claim The Serpent from Crowley's negative associations with being a snake is something I talked about in the other meta I posted recently, should you also be interested in that.

The other thing of note when it comes to this scene of Satan trying to force Crowley to fully prostrate is then the fact that, while we've looked at the horror that Crowley is experiencing here, there are some other scenes that are subtly referencing positive life experiences that can be associated with this same type of position, if the situation is consensual and of someone's free choice.

They're also the exact types of things that can be complicated by having been assaulted. Lying face down are obviously both common sexual and sleep positions, for instance...

In S1, one of the scenes that got cut was supposed to be Crowley waking up from a nap in his flat. The script book says it was supposed to be that Crowley was sleeping on the ceiling in his bedroom, which also looks to be how they were filming it from the picture of it that exists. DT filmed it standing up, presumably so that they could flip the shot around and make it look like Crowley was sleeping on the ceiling. In addition to the heat-seeking snake aspect of this, there's some interesting psychology that may be at work here.

Crowley's flat in S1 was not owned by Crowley-- Hell owned it, as we can see even more in S2-- and he was not technically safe in it. Hell isn't great with boundaries and, although Crowley had structured the flat to make it so that he might have some warning if someone were to come through the front door, there was no guarantee that they would do that. Crowley sleeping on the ceiling in the bedroom in his flat might suggest that he did so, at least in part, to try to have an advantage over someone who might show up in his flat.

It might suggest that Crowley likes to sleep on his stomach but he felt too vulnerable to do that in the bed in his flat so the only way he could make that happen there was to sleep on the ceiling, where his position would potentially be a bit more advantageous. Where Crowley likely does not have that issue is in the bookshop, as he's much safer there.

In another area of life? After 1.06 showing where the proskynesis theme was leading in that season, this scene below is then retroactively given another layer:

As looked at before, Aziraphale's hand gestures here are actually massage movements. His dialogue is also full of massage-related puns-- need/knead, back, practice. Probably also not coincidentally? In addition to just being fun and relaxing, massage is also often suggested by therapists working with couples where one or more partners has been assaulted, as it can be therapeutic on a variety of levels. The scene is suggestive of Crowley being comfortable with a variety of different kinds of pleasurable prostrate positions with Aziraphale, which stands in obvious direct contrast to the horrors of Satan.

So, here's where we're going to end this by talking about some mirroring to the scene in your ask with The Final 15, especially through using etymology. The word proskynesis comes from the Greek and is a combination of pros (meaning: towards, in this case) and kyneo (meaning: kiss). Some translations of it actually wind up being less "towards the kiss" more along the lines of "to kiss in the presence of."

Yeah... There's a word in the mix in this story that means "to kiss in the presence of" and that feels pretty relevant to the last few minutes of the most recent episode we've seen, no? 😂

In the S1 finale, the season's recurring moments of proskynesis lead towards the Tadfield scene, in which we watch Crowley wind up forcibly prostrated before Satan and resisting a kiss with everything he's got. While he'd do that anyway, what's the biggest reason as to why he was in that moment? Aziraphale, right?

It's because Aziraphale is right there and this is all already more than horrible enough. Crowley does everything in his power to retain enough control to resist this kiss because he is absolutely not kissing the Earth Satan claims is his, in forced deference to him, with Aziraphale watching.

Poor Aziraphale can't do anything about this in the moment that it's happening. He can't go to Crowley without giving away that he's Crowley's partner. They've been terrified for a long time that Satan would kill Crowley if he found out about them and, based on what we've seen of how violent and dangerous Satan is, it doesn't seem like that fear is at all unfounded.

By S2, Crowley and Aziraphale are becoming a bit less of a secret but the people who they are letting in are ones they feel are trustworthy. None of them have any affiliation with Hell or Satan. The one person around them each a bit that does have affiliation with him-- Shax-- is the one they're both still attempting to fool.

The S2 mirror of the proskynesis/"kiss in the presence of" moment from 1.06 of Satan attacking Crowley in Tadfield and Crowley resisting the kiss in front of Aziraphale involves these same three characters again... but some aspects of it are-- as they would be with a mirror-- shifted around a little.

In 2.06, it's Crowley with a kiss again-- but, this time, it's Aziraphale that he's kissing. Instead of being the person who is watching the kiss be resisted, Aziraphale is the recipient of a kiss that Crowley is actually willing to give.

Aziraphale, like Crowley in 1.06, is mostly resisting the kiss. While Crowley pushed to resist it entirely in S1 for obvious reasons, Aziraphale isn't put off by the idea of kissing Crowley in general but, in S2, is resisting it as much as he's able to do so.

Why?

Because Aziraphale knows with almost complete certainty that it's Satan watching them through the window.

[deus-ex-mona]

farewell, my idiot son…

[something-divine]

TF141– protective or possessive? (afab!)

Price 🚬:

Protective. John doesn’t see you as something he can possess. You’re your own person, you can do as you please, but he’ll always have an eye on you, even when he’s gone on deployment. He’s had numerous sit-down talks with you about what he expects to know, purely for safety reasons. Where you are, who you’re hanging out with, what you plan to do, etc. He’s not a fan of spontaneity, he’d rather know at least a day in advance if you plan on going somewhere without him. He knows the dangers of the world, and although he trusts you to take care of yourself, he can’t trust others. All in all, he cares very very deeply for you and would blame himself if anything remotely bad were to happen to you and he wasn’t there.

“Where are you going?”

“Out with a co-worker, you remember Cami, right?”

“Mhm.”

“She asked me to lunch.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I know, I’m sorry, it just came up-“

“Your location on?”

“Of course.”

“Have fun then, bug. Text me when you’re done, I’ll come get you.”

“Thanks John.”

“I expect updates.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

Simon 💀:

Possessive. Simon’s not a jealous guy, he knows you’re his and he’s yours and that’s that. But, lord, it gets on his nerves when other guys hit on you like he’s not standing right there. When he’s home, he follows you everywhere, like a lost puppy. Except, he’s more of a hound. Dark, brooding, your personal shadow. He won’t keep you from doing things you like, just expect him to be right there with you. It irks him when he’s on deployment, knowing you are by yourself and he’s not there to protect you. Just like Price, he expects texts of where you are, what you’re doing, and especially when you make it home safe and sound. Even if he can’t immediately answer back, he still wants you to let him know. It eases his mind. He feels awful when he realizes his own paranoia seeps into you sometimes, reassuring you that he’ll always be there, even when he’s off on the other side of the world, if you need him, he’ll find a way home.

“Where ya goin’, dove?”

“Just running out to get, uh, girl stuff—what are you doing?”

“Gettin’ dressed.”

“Why?”

“M’ comin’ with you.”

“Si, you don’t have to-“

“Either I go with you, or I go by myself, your choice.”

“…you know-“

“No.”

“But-“

“No.”

“Simon-“

“Keep it up, sweetheart. M’ not arguing with you on this.”

“….fine.”

“Atta’ girl.”

Johnny 🧼:

Possessive. Like his lieutenant, he’s not jealous, or so he says. The glare that he sends other guys that try to even talk to you is downright nasty. Johnny always has a hand on you when you’re out in public. On your hip, your waist, holding your own hand or even slipping his hand into the back pocket of your jeans (he totally gives your ass a squeeze or two. Can you blame him?). You’ve asked him about it once, calling him out on his obvious possessive behavior. He shrugged and denied anything. “Dunno what yer talkin’ bout, bonnie.” You gave up on trying. He was adamant about keeping tabs on you, maybe a bit excessively. Not just knowing where you are or who you’re with, but who your friends are, your co-workers, even memorizes your orders at restaurants so he can do it for you. Totally has a whole notebook on what your schedule is for work, when you run out of certain things like makeup or skincare, all the way down to your passwords. You’ve got no idea though, you just think he’s being an observant, caring, boyfriend.

“Johnny, did you get me more makeup?”

“Makeup?”

“Yeah..I’ve got more of that Charlotte Tilbury lipstick I thought I was running out of…and another Rare Beauty blush-“

“Oh, yeah, ran out n’ got ya some more.”

“…you did?”

“Mhm-hmm.”

“…how did you know I needed—?”

“I just know ya’ that well, bunny.”

“Johnny-“

“Y’ want some takeout? I’m starvin’. What d’ya think, tha’ lil place down the block?”

Kyle 🧢:

Protective. Kyle is head over heels for you, always keeping an eye on you out of pure concern. God forbid something happened to you and he wasn’t there. He’d never forgive himself. When you’re out without him, he’s texting you constantly. So much so, you’ve had a friend or two comment on how annoying that must be, to which you promptly unfriended them. You thought it was sweet, especially after he took a night you had together to explain why he was such a ‘helicopter boyfriend’. He’s been to war, almost died a handful of times, and he wants nothing but joy for you. Well, you can’t be happy if you’re not safe. He won’t go overboard like Johnny, he’s similar to Price in the sense that he doesn’t think you’re something to possess. Knows that you’re a capable young woman and can take care of yourself. He does go out of his way to teach you some good self defense though. Just in case.

“I’ll be right back, love you!”

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Gotta pick up my niece from school, my sister can’t make it and you know how that piece of shit baby daddy is-“

“Yeah, yeah, we don’t like him, I know angel, but…you’re going alone?”

“Yeah, I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Mhm…you sure?”

“Yep. Twenty minutes, tops.”

“Alright. Be careful please…and keep your ringer on!”

“I will, love you!”

“Love you too, sweetness.”

A/N: this took me way too long, lol. I think Simon’s is the most accurate because I’m still getting used to writing for the other guys. I’m working on it, I swear!

[ataliagold]

you told me once that i'm selfish (and i kissed you hard, in the dark)

For @astrangersummer week 4 prompt 'outside'. Title from Letter to an Old Poet by boygenius.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: General

W/C: 1430

Tags: Established Steddie, minor angst, fluff, hand-holding, Steve just wants to go hiking but Eddie's not keen on the idea, until he is, despite a minor argument these boys are so soft for each other, slightly selfish Eddie but he apologizes, Eddie gets a cool stick

Summary: Steve is used to spending time doing what Eddie wants to do. On a hot summer afternoon, the tables are turned when Steve asks Eddie to go hiking with him and Eddie is...not so thrilled about it.

___

“A hike?”

“Yup.”

“You want to go…hiking?”

“Uh huh.”

“You want me to go hiking with you?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“…I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“Why not?”

“Well, we could do…something else. Go to the arcade! Catch a movie, get drunk by your pool…I can come up with many alternatives to hiking, big boy.”

“I want to go, it’s one I used to do often years ago. It’ll be fun, just try it. It’s summer, we should get outdoors, enjoy the sun.”

“I’m not really an outdoors kinda guy, Steve. I thought you knew that by now.”

Steve’s shoulders had slumped a little at that. He’d watched as Eddie screwed up his nose at Steve’s suggestion, as he shook his head vehemently, as he rolled his eyes a little at Steve’s insistence that it would be a nice way to spend their Sunday.

Eddie didn’t want to go. That was ok; Steve wouldn’t make him. It had been stupid to even ask him in the first place, he supposed – Eddie was right, it really wasn’t his sort of thing.

Except…Steve had spent long evenings watching Eddie and the kids playing their campaigns, had listened as best he could as Eddie rattled off ideas and suggestions to him for the next D&D session, had sat through the frankly terrible horror movies that Eddie was rapt with, always let him play his music in the car, shrugged it off good-naturedly when Eddie complained about his taste in music…

Steve been hoping maybe Eddie would try something that he enjoyed, just for a day.

He knew Eddie hated sport and practically any form of intentional exercise; hell, his boyfriend reminded him of that frequently, grumbling when Steve and Wayne were glued to a game on TV or when Steve was busy shooting hoops with Lucas. Usually, Steve didn’t care – he knew they had different interests, loved Eddie enough that it didn’t matter.

But sometimes, Eddie’s jibes about him being a jock or a philistine or uncultured just…stung a little, especially considering Steve never bit back with his own insults, had left those days long behind him.

“Yeah, ok,” Steve mumbled eventually. “I’ll just…I’ll ask Lucas or something.”

Eddie shook his head. “He’s at Mike’s this weekend.”

“Oh. Well…never mind, then.”

Eddie sat up, grabbing for Steve’s hand. Steve let him take it, but with little enthusiasm.

“We can do something else, though,” Eddie said brightly. “Wanna rent a couple of movies, get high? I’ve still got some of Argyle’s stuff left, we could…Steve?”

Steve’s hand had gone weak in Eddie’s, his gaze drifting downwards. “Hmm?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Eddie shuffled closer, tilted his head to try and catch Steve’s eye. “Steeeeevie,” he hummed.

“What?” Steve said, snapping a little.

Eddie recoiled slightly. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Steve snatched his hand back, pushing off Eddie’s couch to stand up. “Nothing, it’s fine. I’m gonna go for this hike, I’ll see you later.”

Eddie frowned, hopping up to block Steve’s path. “On your own?” he questioned.

“Well, you clearly don’t want to go, so…”

Eddie’s face softened. “Steve -”

“No, it’s fine. You hate the outdoors, you hate exercise, you hate…” Steve trailed off.

Eddie reached out, traced a hand across Steve’s cheek. “What, sweetheart?”

Steve sucked in a breath. “You hate everything I like,” he mumbled, not meeting Eddie’s eye.

Eddie’s eyes widened, realization crossing his face. “Stevie…I…I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you wanted to go so badly. Let me just…I’ll get changed, and we’ll go, ok?”

“No, you don’t want to.”

“I do.”

Steve scoffed. “You don’t.”

Eddie nodded slightly, chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “I didn’t want to,” he admitted eventually. “But…you do things you don’t want to do for me all the time, and I know I’m not…as good at doing that as you are. So, the afternoon is yours. You want to hike? We’ll hike. I can’t promise I won’t pass out halfway, but I’ll be there.”

Steve gave him a long look. “You’re sure? And you won’t complain?”

“Well…maybe a little.”

Steve rolled his eyes, waving a hand in frustration.

“Ok!” Eddie back-peddled. “Ok, I won’t. Just…I have one request.”

“What?”

“I want to carry a cool stick.”

*****

Eddie got his stick.

Steve led them on the wooded path that branched off from Lover’s Lake, that looped its way slowly up a hill to a lookout spot over the forest. Eddie traipsed along behind him, swatting at invisible orcs with his stick, occasionally skipping off to one side to pick up and present Steve with various stones and small rocks he found along the way, the ones he deemed pretty enough to gift to him.

Halfway up, despite sweating and breathing a little harder than he should be, (smoker’s lungs, he’d given Steve as an excuse) Eddie seemed to putting in a lot of effort for Steve.

“This is…kinda cool,” he admitted.

“Really?” Steve raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

Eddie nodded, whacked at a bush with his stick and grinned. “Yeah. At least it’s shady here too, it’s not so fucking hot.”

Steve smiled. “Told ya. Wait till we get to the top, too. I think you’ll like the view.”

“About that…how much steeper does it get?”

A short time later, and only one little moan from Eddie about the hill, and they broke through the trees and onto a rocky outcrop with a little bench seat. The trees sprawled out below them, shades of brown and burnt orange, Hawkins nestled off to one side.

“Wow,” Eddie breathed, bent over next to Steve with his hands on his knees as he got his breath back.

Steve, not puffed in the least, nodded in agreement. “It’s nice, huh?”

“It’s like…Lothlorien.”

“…sure,” Steve offered, having no idea what his boyfriend was talking about.

Eddie slumped down on the bench seat, fingers tracing over the initials carved everywhere into the old wood.

“You on here, Stevie?” he asked.

Steve nodded, dropping to his knees and searching the edge of the seat for a moment. There, etched permanently into the wood, were the weathered initials S.H.

“Here,” he said.

Eddie smiled, touched his fingers to the marks. Quietly, he scratched his own into the wood with a sharp stick, right next to Steve’s initials.

“Looks good,” Steve observed.

Eddie looked up at him, took his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For…not taking enough interest in the things you like.”

Steve sighed, sat down beside him. “You don’t have to, Eds. I know you don’t like a lot of the things I do, it’s -”

“Don’t say it’s ok,” Eddie interrupted, holding his hand tighter. “I mean, maybe I don’t like sport and stuff. But you don’t like D&D, and I know you hate horror movies, but you don’t complain about it, and you always come along even if you don’t enjoy something.”

“I…I like spending time with you,” Steve said quietly.

“I know, and I love you for it.” Eddie’s free hand gripped the edge of the seat. “And…and I like spending time with you too, and I want to be able to do some things that you enjoy too, it’s only fair.”

“Well…did you enjoy this?” Steve asked, almost shyly.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, actually. Nearly had a heart attack near the top there, but aside from that…” he grinned as he pulled a small laugh from Steve. “I’d like to go again. Wherever you want to go, I’ll be there.”

“I’d like that, Eds.”

“Good.” Eddie dug around in his pocket for a moment, producing a smooth black stone and plopping it into Steve’s hand. “For you,” he said, smiling when Steve turned it over in his fingers.

“It’s cool, Eds. Thanks.”

Eddie’s smile was wider than the sun.

He leant in, kissed Steve long and slow under the fading July sun.

By the time they reached the car again, Steve’s pockets were laden with little stones that had caught Eddie’s eye along the path. Despite them weighing down his shorts, he couldn’t bear to toss any of them away – he’d find somewhere to put them in their room.

As Steve started the beamer, he was surprised to see Eddie eject the Metallica tape in the player and replace it with Steve’s well-loved Tears for Fears one.

He threw a surprised look at Eddie, who shrugged in return.

“It’s well overdue for your turn, sweetheart,” he murmured softly.

As the familiar notes of Head Over Heels spilled over them, Steve reached for Eddie’s hand.

He didn’t let go the whole way home.

___

[pucksandpower]

Party Girl

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Logan Sargeant x Hunt!Reader

Summary: Logan tries to save a notorious party girl from herself (or in which going wild runs in the Hunt family)

Warnings: illicit substances and peer-pressure

The nightclub’s bass thumps through Logan’s chest as the trio approaches the entrance. Lando and Oscar turn to him with matching grins.

“You ready for this, mate?” Lando asks.

Logan eyes the mass of people spilling out onto the sidewalk. “Is this really a good idea?”

“Of course!” Oscar claps him on the shoulder. “It’s gonna be brilliant. Especially with you keeping an eye on the hostess.”

“Me?” Logan’s brow furrows.

Lando nods. “You’re our designated driver tonight, so you’ll be the soberest one here. We need you to keep Y/N from going too far off the rails.”

“Why me though? I barely know her.”

“Exactly!” Oscar exclaims. “She doesn’t really know you either, so she’ll actually listen instead of brushing you off like she does with the rest of us.”

Logan frowns. “I don’t know, guys ...”

“Oh, come on!” Lando wheedles. “You’ve heard the stories about James Hunt. Partying is in her DNA. We just need to make sure she doesn’t take after her grandad too much tonight.”

With a sigh, Logan relents. “Alright, fine. I’ll do my best to keep her out of trouble.”

The two grin and clap him on the back before leading the way inside. The throbbing music and flashing lights assault Logan’s senses as they enter. He scans the crowd, quickly spotting a vaguely familiar mane of untamed waves.

You’re laughing uproariously at something one of your friends said, drink sloshing precariously in your hand. Your cheeks are already flushed, eyes bright with intoxication and mirth. A pang of concern flutters in Logan’s chest — Lando and Oscar weren’t kidding about keeping an eye on you.

Making his way through the press of bodies, Logan sidles up next to you. You glance over with a brilliant smile.

“Heyyy, you made it!”

“Yeah, uh, hi,” Logan replies, suddenly feeling awkward. “Your friends invited me to, you know, keep things under control.”

You giggle. “Under control? What fun is that?”

Taking a swig of your drink, you spin away to dance with your friends, moving your hips enticingly. Logan swallows hard, trying not to stare. This is going to be harder than he thought.

The evening blurs by in a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. Wherever you go, Logan follows at a respectful distance. He rebuffs anyone trying to offer you illicit substances and intervenes whenever your friends get too rowdy.

A few times you shoot him annoyed glares, but he just shrugs apologetically. He’s only doing what Lando and Oscar asked. Besides, he reasons, better to have you mad at him than in real danger.

As the hour grows later, your movements become more uncoordinated, laughter louder and words more slurred. Logan hovers closer, concern mounting.

“Ohhh, Logannnnn,” you croon, draping yourself over him. “You’re sooo stuffy. Live a little!”

He gently extracts himself from your embrace. “I think you’ve lived enough for tonight, Y/N.”

Pouting, you turn away petulantly. Logan watches as a few of your more unscrupulous friends surround you with sly grins. Alarm spikes through him when he sees one of them press something into your palm.

“Hey!” Pushing forward, he places himself between you and them. “Back off. She’s not interested.”

You blink at him owlishly while your friends sneer.

“Who’re you to decide for her, pretty boy?”

“Someone who actually cares if she’s okay.” Logan holds his ground.

With a drunken giggle, you lean against his back. “S’ok, Logieee. Lemme have some fun!”

“No, Y/N.” He spins to face you, gripping your shoulders firmly. “That stuff is bad news. You don’t want it, trust me.”

Your eyes are glazed, but you search his face like you’re trying to understand. One of your friends makes another attempt to press the little baggie into your hand. Without thinking, Logan bats it away. It goes flying across the club, spilling white powder everywhere.

“Dude!” Your friend shouts, outraged.

Logan doesn’t give them a chance to react further. Scooping you up in his arms, he starts carrying you away from the crowd. You’re tiny and warm against his chest, still giggling faintly.

“Mmm, Logan ... gonna getcha in trouble ...”

“I’ll take my chances,” he mutters.

Pushing his way through the throngs of people, Logan finally breaks free into the cool night air. He sets you on your feet, but keeps a steadying hand on your waist when you sway unsteadily.

Up close like this, he can make out the flushed skin across your nose, the flecks of light reflecting in your warm eyes. For a moment you just gaze at each other, the sounds of the party muffled behind the club’s doors.

Then your brow furrows. “Why’d ya stop me? I was jus’ havin’ fun.”

Logan shakes his head slowly. “That kind of fun isn’t good for you, Y/N. Your friends, they ... they weren’t looking out for your best interests back there.”

“You don’ even know me!” You protest, pushing away from him on unsteady feet.

Without thinking, Logan catches your hands in his. They’re so tiny, delicate, yet topped with nails sharp enough to take an eye out. Just like the rest of you — an enigmatic mix of fragile beauty and uncompromising tenacity.

“You’re right, I don’t really know you,” he admits. “But I know that you’re strong. Braver and tougher than anyone gives you credit for. And you don’t need that junk to be the life of the party.”

For a long moment, you simply stare at him, eyes wide. Then, slowly, you nod. A few stray tendrils of hair fall across your face and Logan’s fingers itch to brush them back. He tamps down the urge.

“M’sorry I made a scene back there,” you mumble, averting your gaze.

“Hey.” Logan ducks his head to catch your eye again. “Don’t be sorry. Those people, they ...” He shakes his head in disgust. “You deserve better friends than that.”

Pink dusts your cheeks as the corners of your mouth tick upwards. “You’re sweet, Logan. A real gentleman.”

“I just call it like I see it,” he replies with a shrug.

You laugh softly then, a warm, rich sound that sends tingles down Logan’s spine. When you speak again, your voice is clearer, more sober.

“I guess tonight got a little out of hand. Sometimes I go too far trying to live up to the reputation of my last name. It’s stupid, I know.”

“Hey, we all have things we’re trying to prove.” Logan squeezes your hands reassuringly. “But you don’t have to prove anything to me, Y/N. I can already see how amazing you are.”

For a beat, you simply stare at him, eyes shining. Then, surging up on your tiptoes, you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him hard.

Logan freezes for half a second before melting into the embrace, pulling you flush against him. His fingers tangle in your hair as he kisses you back with everything he has.

When you finally break apart, breathless and flushed, Logan rests his forehead against yours.

“Wow,” is all he can think to say.

You grin impishly up at him. “Now there’s a party I wouldn’t mind getting carried away at.”

Logan can’t help but laugh. Tucking you into his side, he presses a kiss to your temple. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

***

Logan jolts awake to the sound of insistent pounding on his hotel room door. Squinting against the bright sunlight filtering through the curtains, he rubs the sleep from his eyes and shuffles to answer it.

“About damn time!” Lando’s voice greets him as soon as the door opens. “Do you know how long we’ve been stuck outside?”

Oscar shoulders past Logan into the room. “Yeah, mate. Abandoning your friends at the club? Not cool.”

Logan’s brow furrows in confusion until the previous night’s events come trickling back. The party, the near miss with the drugs, getting you safely away ...

His gaze drifts to the rumpled bed across the room where you’re just starting to stir, sheets tangled around your legs. A soft smile tugs at Logan’s lips as he watches you blink owlishly.

“Earth to Logan?” Lando waves a hand in front of his face. “You still with us?”

“What? Yeah, sorry.” Logan drags his attention back to the two drivers. “Look, I can explain about last night ...”

“No need to explain why you ditched us,” Oscar interjects with a suggestive wink toward the bed. “We can figure that part out for ourselves.”

You sit upright then, the sheets pooling around your waist as you rub your eyes. “Whas’ goin’ on?”

“Well, well!” Lando exclaims with a salacious grin. “If it isn’t the life of the party herself! Get up to any ... extracurriculars last night?”

Heat creeps up the back of Logan’s neck as you glance between the three of them in sleepy bewilderment. A strangled laugh escapes Oscar’s lips as the realization hits both of them. You and Logan lock eyes from across the room, equally mortified.

“No, wait! It’s not what it looks like!” Logan splutters.

Lando claps a hand on his shoulder with a pitying look. “It’s alright, mate. You don’t have to be ashamed about finally getting some action.”

“But I didn’t!” Logan insists, running a flustered hand through his hair. “Y/N, tell them!”

Untangling yourself from the sheets, you slide off the bed — giving everyone an eyeful of the fact that you’re only wearing one of Logan’s hoodies. His breath catches in his throat because damn if you don’t look incredible drowning in his clothes.

Your bare feet pad across the carpet until you’re standing before him, fingers playing with the worn cotton hem. “He’s right, you two. We didn’t ... you know.”

Hurt flashes across Logan’s face before he can squelch it back down. Right, of course you wouldn’t want that after all the lines he crossed last night. You’d been drunk and vulnerable and now you were regretting everything, including the–

“We kissed! But it doesn’t have to mean anything,” he blurts out, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I got Y/N out of a bad situation and we may have, uh, gotten a little carried away in the heat of the moment. But she was drunk and it won’t happen again, I swear.”

An awkward silence falls over the room, broken only by Lando’s snort of laughter. “No rizz, this one.”

Logan’s jaw clenches. He knew they’d tease him about it, but he’s a grown man and he doesn’t need to take it from the likes of–

“Logan.”

Your voice is soft but it cuts through the embarrassment swirling in his mind. You take his face gently in your hands and he’s helpless but to meet your warm gaze.

“What if I want it to mean something?”

The air whooshes out of him in a surprised breath. His hands find your waist of their own accord like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Y-You do?”

Behind you, Oscar groans. “God, he’s so hopeless.”

“I think it’s sweet!” Lando retorts. “Innocent, you know? Like a puppy getting all flustered.”

Logan blocks them out, his whole world narrowing to the amused, almost fond smile playing across your lips. You nod, leaning further into his embrace.

“I meant what I said last night, Logan. You’re the sweetest, most caring guy I’ve ever met. And I like you.” Your nose wrinkles adorably. “A lot, actually.”

He blinks rapidly, certain his heart is about to burst out of his chest. “Y/N, I ... I like you too. So much.”

Laughing that rich, warm laugh of yours, you loop your arms around his neck and rise up on your tiptoes. Logan meets you halfway, melting into the heated press of your lips against his.

Catcalls and wolf-whistles finally penetrate the happy bubble enveloping you both. You break the kiss with a breathless giggle, burrowing your face into the crook of Logan’s neck.

“Oi, lovebirds!” Oscar hollers. “Get a room!”

“Yeah, we’ve already got one!” Logan shoots back, surprising himself with the retort. He winks cheekily at you and you positively beam in response, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Alright, that’s our cue!” Lando steers Oscar toward the door. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do, you crazy kids!”

The door slams behind them, leaving you and Logan alone in blissful quiet. His arms tighten around your waist, keeping you pressed flush against him. For a few heartbeats, you simply drink each other in, basking in the unfamiliar but not unwelcome feelings bubbling up.

Eventually you break the spell with a featherlight brush of your lips against the corner of Logan’s mouth. “So, was that too forward? I shouldn’t have just sprung that on you ...”

“No!” He rushes to reassure you. “God, no. I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You poke his chest lightly, eyes dancing with mirth. “Not even racing?”

Logan chuckles, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “Okay, maybe one other thing. But you’re definitely in the top two.”

Winding your arms back around his neck, you arch one brow mischievously. “Only top two? I’ll have to work on that ...”

His breath catches in his throat at the playful promise in your tone. “I, uh ... I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

As you lean in to kiss him again, Logan can’t help but silently thank Lando and Oscar for dragging him to that party. True, the night didn’t go exactly as expected. But he wound up with the greatest prize of all — you, here in his arms, carefree and happy and perfect in every way.

Like the gentleman his mama raised him to be, Logan vows silently to cherish every moment with you. After all, only a fool would look a gift horse like you in the mouth.

***

Adrenaline still thrums through Logan’s veins as he exits parc fermé, helmet tucked under his arm. His cheeks ache from the wide grin stretched across his face — a double points finish was exactly what Williams needed.

Alex falls into step beside him, equally elated after their impressive showing on the track today. They did good, really good. Logan can’t wait to celebrate with the whole team.

As they approach the Williams garage, a familiar head of hair catches Logan’s eye. You’re standing front and center, bouncing on the balls of your feet with poorly contained excitement. A large bakery box is clutched in your hands, the elaborate logo on the lid leaving little doubt as to its expensive contents.

Logan’s grin widens impossibly further. Of course you’d be here with treats in tow, always ready to turn any occasion into a party. His heart swells with affection just watching you eagerly await his and Alex’s return.

The rest of the team notice their arrival and erupt into cheers, crowding around to clap the drivers on the back with jubilant congratulations. You hang back, though your whole face is lit up with unabashed pride.

“Nice one out there, lads!” An engineer calls over the ruckus.

“About time we had a good points haul,” Another mechanic agrees.

Logan waves off the compliments with a bashful duck of his head. The team has been through so much in recent seasons — they deserve this moment more than he does.

“Alright, alright! Give the boys some space to breathe!” A familiar voice rings out.

You shove your way through the throngs of people, bounding right up to Logan with a brilliant grin. He has a split second to brace himself before you launch into his arms, nearly sending him toppling backward with the force of your enthusiasm.

“You were brilliant!” You exclaim, planting an exuberant kiss on his cheek that has him blushing furiously. “Both of you! I’m so proud!”

Alex chuckles fondly as you untangle yourself from Logan just enough to loop an arm around the other man’s shoulders. “We couldn’t have done it without the team’s hard work. You should be proud of them.”

“Oh, I am!” You turn your beaming smile on the rest of the crew. “Which is why I brought a little celebratory treat!”

Holding up the bakery box with a waggle of your brows, you peel back the lid to reveal a massively decadent-looking chocolate cake. It’s one of the most elaborate confections Logan has ever laid eyes on.

A reverent hush falls over the assembled group as they all lean in to get a better look. The air is suddenly thick with the rich scent of cocoa and buttercream frosting.

“Blimey, Y/N! That must’ve set you back a pretty penny!” Alex exclaims.

You wave him off with a casual flap of your hand. “Oh, please! You don’t even want to know how many races I’ve brought an expensive cake to just in case. I’m just glad I finally got to use this one!”

A ripple of laughter rolls through the crew at that. Logan shakes his head in fond exasperation, equal parts endeared and unsurprised by your extravagant gesture.

When your gaze lands on him again, warmth blooms in his chest at the open adoration shining in your eyes. You look at him like he’s the most impressive thing you’ve ever seen, not some lucky racer who simply played a tiny part in today’s success.

Liquid courage from the race still thrumming through his veins, Logan acts on impulse. Plucking the cake box deftly from your grip, he passes it off to a bewildered Alex before cupping your face in his hands and kissing you soundly.

A startled squeak quickly melts into a pleased hum as you melt against him, looping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Logan pours every ounce of his pride and affection for you into the heated press of his lips, uncaring of the captive audience for once.

Hoots and hollers finally break through the rosy haze fogging Logan’s mind. He breaks the kiss with a breathless chuckle, thumbs brushing over the delightfully flushed apples of your cheeks.

“Get a room, you two!” Alex hollers with a roll of his eyes.

The rest of the crew quickly devolves into jokes and ribbing at your expense, but Logan couldn’t care less. With you smiling up at him like he hung the moon, the rest of the world simply falls away.

“You taste like chocolate,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against yours.

The impish grin you shoot him in return makes his heart stutter. “Well, it wouldn’t be a proper party without dessert.”

An arm slings around Logan’s shoulders, disrupting the little bubble you’ve found yourselves cocooned in. He startles, having completely forgotten about the dozens of other people still milling about.

“Well isn’t this just precious!” Gaetan, Logan’s race engineer, gives him an affectionate shake. “Young love blossoming right here in the garage!”

Red blooms high on Logan’s cheeks even as your melodic giggles wash over him. He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

“We’re not that young.”

“Could’ve fooled me!” Gaetan retorts with a bark of laughter. “You two have more spark than the rest of the kids around here combined.”

Your hand finds Logan’s, tangling your fingers together as you lean bodily into his side. For a fleeting moment, he allows himself to bask in the happiness surrounding him. It’s like floating, secure in the knowledge that you’ll always be right here to keep him grounded.

“You know,” you begin softly, batting your lashes up at Logan. “This might just be my new favorite party.”

A surprised huff of laughter escapes him. But really, he shouldn’t be so shocked. From the moment he met you, it was clear you had an unparalleled zest for life. You see the joy and potential for a good time in every single occasion. It’s one of the many, many things Logan loves about you.

“Your favorite, huh?” He bends to press his forehead to yours, drinking in your radiant smile. “I’ll remember this one, then.”

Because no matter how many parties, races, or adventures you two share moving forward, Logan vows to cherish each and every one with you by his side. After all, every single moment is worth celebrating when you get to spend it with the person you love most.

[backtothefanfiction]

Well this is awkward

Warnings: none, maybe a little cringe behaviour from Oliver, fluff

A/N- just an idea that came to me after a dialogue prompt I saw on Pinterest. This is just a quick one before I sleep.

It was hot. Too hot. You couldn’t understand how everyone was so content just out lying in the sun like this, especially when you knew they had to be just as hungover as you were. That’s why you had decided to excuse yourself and take a siesta.

You’d closed the shutters in Felix’s room but left the windows open in hopes that even the slightest breeze would help circulate the heat within the room just enough to give you respite and allow you to sleep. Alone in the room you hadn’t thought twice about stripping off your clothes and slipping naked between the cool white cotton sheets on Felix’s bed, burying your head into his pillow, allowing it to comfort you as you drifted off to sleep.

When you woke an hour later your headache was gone. When you looked to the bedside table you realised a glass of water and a note had been left for you. “Drink up pretty flower then come find us in the library.” Your boyfriend’s sweetness and care for others never failed to make you smile.

Dreamily you rose from the bed grabbing the closest clothes on the floor. You slipped on your denim shorts, but instead of putting your own top back on, you reached for a button up left lying on the floor. It was a little bit too big for you and you did the buttons up messily, but it was just what you needed, light and airy and enough room between the fabric and your skin to not feel like you were suffocating in the persistent heat.

You padded down to the library bare foot. The door was propped open slightly but you didn’t need to see to know who was in there, Venetia’s giggly cackle drowning out the three boys lower chuckles.

“There she is.” Felix cooed as you made your way into the room, moving across the carpet to flop into a small spot on the sofa beside him.

“Yay, finally, Daisy’s here!” Venetia sighed thankfully in a tone that implied that the boys had been ganging up on her and she was grateful for the girl power.

“Hey.” Felix said with a small smile, wrapping his arm around the backs of your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. His lips brushed against yours tenderly before he pulled away to look at you again.

“Hey.” You said back with a breathy smile.

Your eyes followed his as he trailed them down your body, his eyes slowly furrowing. His fingers began to toy with the collar of the shirt as he questioned, “whose shirt is this?”

“I thought it was yours.” You replied.

“No.” Felix said with a frown.

“Umm, it mine.” Ollie slowly said from the other side of the room, hand raised.

“Well this is awkward.” Farleigh said nibbling on his lip trying to feign ignorance to the fire bubbling in his veins over the hint of potential drama; as you and Felix slowly looked to the new comer of the group.

“I picked it up off your floor.” You said, head turning to Felix confused. “Fix?”

“I don’t know.” Felix quickly replied to your implied question before formally asking it to Oliver. “Ollie, why was your shirt on the floor in my room?”

Oliver shuffled on the floor uncomfortably before he shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.” He said timidly, “maybe the maid dropped it while collecting stuff and passing through your room.” Everyone knew he was making excuses and looking to pin it on the help, but no one tried to challenge him on it. “It looks good on you though.” He quickly said.

You had no doubt he said it to reassure you, but it only made your skin crawl. You looked to the clock in the room, you had slept so long it was nearing time to get ready for dinner anyway. “I’m just gonna go and have a shower and get ready for dinner anyway.” You say quietly to the room, to no one in particular but more so towards Felix.

“Yeah, okay.” Felix said quietly as you got up off the sofa. “Uh, do you want me to join you.” He said quietly as he sat forward on the sofa cushions, hands rubbing at his thighs.

You made a point of looking towards Oliver, a look of jealousy flashing like lightning across his face before he met your eyes and schooled his gaze again, as you pointedly said to Felix, “That would be lovely.”

The moment you’d gone back into the safety of Felix’s room you stripped yourself of the shirt again, your boyfriend laughing as you opened the door of the adjoining bathroom on Oliver’s side, dramatically throwing it down the hallway.

“Uhh, get me in the shower.” You said as you turned back to Felix, a mischievous look on his face as he obliged. He turned on the water before picking you up with a squeal and dumping you in the shower, still half clothed.

[idolomantises]

Have you watched Murder Drones, and if so what’s your opinion on it?

Also your art is great, keep it up.

Thank you!

And uh. Man. I may make an enemy out of another indie fandom because I don’t really like this show.

I actually loved the pilot and thought episodes 1-3 were incredible, if a bit too fast paced. But episode 4 was kind of a breaking point for me and I dropped off after that.

I don’t think it’s very funny. I think it relies too much on Bathos and it makes it hard to take its cast seriously. As a black comedy it mostly worked for episodes 1-3, but 4? No.

It does this thing I really despise in media where it has themes of genocide but like… heavily deprioritizes it and often portrays it like a comedy. It’s supposed to be funny when innocent characters are murdered because they’re just goofy side characters but when it’s a major character suddenly we have to care, and I don’t like that at all. The main character has a meltdown over finding out that murder drones are sent to kill her people at the end of the pilot, and then in episode 4 she’s murdering her classmates and crying because a boy she likes might think she’s weird. I actually find it pretty frustrating that the robots are portrayed as incredibly cowardly because they’re slowly dying off and scared to die and then they’re hanging out with V who casually murders random children and nobody reacts to it.

I actually do like the idea of a character who’s not reformed but is kind of forced to stick around but when I see her murder characters, traumatize children and then go “haha I just have mental problems” and everyone just… moves on, I just cannot bring myself to care. It causes such a massive dissonance and not in a fun way.

I think it’s very frustrating and unengaging when a story about people doing the right thing and trying to help others has no interest in helping those they’re trying to save.

I think the female cast is solid but I did kind of raise my eye a bit when the only major female character that was killed off was a victim of genocide while the other genocidal characters, two of which gleefully murdered her fucking parents, are just allowed to hang out with the rest of the cast. Uzi especially lost a lot of sympathy for me when she was more emotional about freaking out N than murdering her classmates. Like yeah, they weren’t the nicest to her but it’s weird to establish a character wants to end genocide and then… barely reacts when they also indulge in that genocide.

I don’t really like the characters at all. I don’t like Uzi, I found N irritating and boring (and gives me anime harem protagonist vibes), I thought V was a tryhard and I couldn’t really care for the rest of the cast. I liked Doll but lol, you know how that turned out.

It also has this problem of having an overloaded cast with very little breathing room. I really wish the show just had one, low stakes episode, so we can actually get to know these characters and collect their thoughts. It’s actually one of my concerns for TADC, because as much as I do like that show, I think “no filler” with constant story is going to make or break the show for me. It’s too fast paced and no, I don’t think it’s good that you have to rewatch an episode 4 times to understand what’s going on. I don’t watch indie shows to play where’s Waldo, information should be explained to the audience in a way that feels digestible and natural.

The animation is incredible and the stuff that came out from the finale was insane, but at times it just felt like jangling keys in my face. Like don’t pay attention to rushed story, underdeveloped characters and bizarre tonal whiplash, look at the cool fights. I dont think it does horror well either. In fact I kind of cringe a bit when characters a big wide grins and giggle evilly and it’s mean to be intimidating and it just. Doesn’t work. Feels a bit juvenile honestly.

And. This is a very personal thing. I don’t like the robot designs.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Chaggie AU where Vaggie is a member of a holy order devoted to slaying monsters. As part of her becoming a holy knight, she must commune with an Angel to be granted their divine power... only something goes wrong with the ritual, and the being that appears before her is none other than the Princess of Hell.

Lute: “Gay?! She’s supposed to be HOLY!”

Adam: “Yeah, hot.”

Lute: “…let. Me. See. That. SuMMOnINg sCRiPTuRE.”

Adam: “Sure thing dude. Here.”

Lute: “This isn’t a holy rite, this is… WRITINGS OF SAPPHO!”

Adam: "Heh, heathen and homoerotic. WLWhoops?"

-

Charlie: “You should really be more careful next time!"

Vaggie: "Uh."

Charlie: "Lot’s of other demons would be thrilled to get yanked into the mortal world without a circle of binding to hold them- especially by someone as cute as you-

Vaggie: "Excuse me?"

Charlie: "And when I say thrilled, I mean in the blood and guts and screaming kinda way, NOT just in the 'can feel hellfire in my cheeks' kinda way. Safe summoning is important!!”

Vaggie: “Why’re you drawing the circle in yourself, then. With your… claws.”

Charlie: “Because you didn’t?” (dusts fire off her hands) “Anyway you should be good now, ask me anything!”

Vaggie: “You’re seriously not taking advantage of being summoned but not bound?"

Charlie: "I'm taking advantage of the view!"

Charlie: (beat)

Charlie: "Of the, mortal world, I am enjoying the pretty scenery."

Vaggie: "It's dark."

Charlie: "I'm enjoying the beautiful knight. Night. Night without a 'K'. Not knight like YOU'RE a knight, not that you aren't beautiful-"

Vaggie: "I'm. What."

Charlie: "The one who should be talking now! Not me. I think I've done enough talking for now. I think I'm good on having said stuff recently. I think I should be quiet for a bit."

Vaggie: (gay) (not immune to adorable ladies) "WHY are you here. You're not, what I expected."

Charlie: “I'm not the usual demon- As hell princess I get first dibs on all summons! After dad anyway.”

Vaggie: (of COURSE she's a princess) “Why answer this one.”

Charlie: “You’re missing an eye? It looks painful?"

Vaggie: "...so?

Charlie: "?? I thought maybe you wanted help with that.”

Vaggie: "It's a penance. You can't help with it."

Charlie: "oh."

Vaggie: “...That’s it? You're not here for anything else?”

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “You um. You look very cool in that armor.” (cringes) “Awesome.” (cringes more)

Vaggie: “Are you a siren or a succubus or something.”

Charlie: “What!? No! No I’m just, I just think girls are hot! Cool! You look great!! …girls all look great, and you’re a girl, and you…”

Vaggie: “…”

Vaggie: “Do you need any demons slayed?”

Charlie: “Ahaa, no.”

Vaggie: “Holy quests completed?”

Charlie: “No?”

Vaggie: “Are you gonna eat me.”

Charlie: “N-not on the first date- I- OH YOU MEAN ACTUALLY-? No no no! I don’t, I’m, I don’t eat souls. Or people.”

Vaggie: “So what’s the catch here. The price.”

Charlie: “Nothing. I just wanted to help.”

Charlie: “Okay and maaaaybe have a nice conversation for once. Kinda short on them in hell.”

Vaggie: “… is there ANYTHING I can help you with?”

Charlie: “Well I just broke up with-”

Vaggie: “I’ll kill them.”

Charlie: “-and I could really use a date for the ball, I mean! No killing needed!! Dad isn’t going again, mom’s um, busy. And it’ll be a lot less awkward if I already have a dance partner, you know?”

Vaggie: “You want me to find you a dance partner.”

Charlie: “Oh no I, I was hoping- do YOU dance?”

Vaggie: "Me."

Charlie: "If you want to?"

Vaggie: “You’re asking me to go to hell.”

Charlie: “Shit. Right, dumb idea. It’s my home but, yeah. It’s not like anyone enjoys being here.”

Vaggie: (fuck she's cute) (fuck she's SAD)

Vaggie: “No one does? What about you?”

Charlie: “I… just wish the people would be nicer. A place is the people who live there, right?”

Vaggie: “…”

Vaggie: “I’ll come.”

Charlie: “You wha?”

Vaggie: “I’ll come to the dance.”

Charlie: "But- hell! Why-"

Vaggie: "Hell’s a better place than I thought."

Charlie: "You've never even BEEN here!"

Vaggie: "I've met you."

Charlie: ".... I'm not... the usual demon."

Vaggie: "I'll take my chances. I'll need to borrow a dress though. All I have up here is, armor."

Charlie: "I can, I can change that. A dress. N- no problem."

Vaggie: "It's a deal then." (holds out hand) "A dance for a dress?"

Charlie: (takes her hand and shakes it eagerly while bowing) "ITS A DATE!"

Vaggie: (chuckles) "Yeah, I guess that's a better word for it."

Charlie: "And I PROMISE when we dance I WON'T trample your toes with my hooves!"

Vaggie: "... should I just keep the sabatons on?"

Charlie: "I promise to find you a dress that goes good with your armored shoes so your toes don't get trampled on."

Vaggie: "We're gonna be quite the pair, aren't we."

Charlie: "Heheh~"

-

Lute: "WHAT HAPPENED WHY WAS THERE FIRE AND BRIMSTONE INSTEAD OF HOLY LIGHT WHY WERE YOU COMMUNING WITH A FIEND SO LONG IS IT DEAD DID YOU KILL IT???"

Vaggie: "Does taking her heart count?"

Adam: "Whoooo VaGEEE! Totally FUCKED that demon huh!!"

Vaggie: "Mm, not totally sir."

Vaggie: (smiling) (softly to herself) "Not on the first date."

[kenacoki]

A Helping Hand

//Pairing// Eddie Diaz x Reader

//Summary// When (y/n)’s period cramps are bad, their boyfriend Eddie is there to lend a helping hand.

//Word Count// 1.98k

//Warnings// none!

//Request// Reader is on her period and Eddie taking care of her

//Dividers// sister-lucifer

The house is quiet as you sit on Eddie’s couch, a heating pad pressed against your stomach.

“Holy shit…” you groan, your face twisted up in pain.

While you’ve always had relatively bad cramps, these ones are particularly bad. The constant aching pain gnawing at you even as you curl up into a ball on the couch.

“Ughh!” Frustrated, you look down at your slightly bloated form squeeze tightly.

Suddenly, the sound of the front door opening and closing breaks through the silence. As you hear footsteps getting closer to the living room, your (e/c) eyes snap up. You smile at the sight of Eddie's familiar form walking in.

He looks at you, a concerned expression on his face as he notices your curled-up state on the couch.

“Mi amor, you okay?” He asks, moving closer to you.

You look up at him, wincing a little as another cramp hits you. You nod your head slightly, your voice a little strained from the pain.

“Yeah, just...my period cramps. They're pretty bad today.” He looks down at the heating pad on your stomach.

He frowns slightly, his expression softening with concern. He moves over to the couch and sits down next to you, his hand reaching out to lightly touch your shoulder.

“You should've called me. I could've come home early to help out. Bobby wouldn’t have cared.”

You smile weakly, appreciating his concern, “It's fine, Eds. I can handle it. You don't have to come home just for this...” you peer up at him through your lashes, “You got people to save.”

He looks at you for a moment, his gaze searching your face. He can see the discomfort you're in, the small crease in your brow that betrays the pain you're trying to hide.

He sighs, his hand still resting on your shoulder, “It's not a big deal if I come home early for this, you know. I'm allowed to be worried about my girlfriend, even if you’re tough as hell.”

You can't help but smile at his words, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of him calling you his girlfriend. It's a simple thing, but it's so sweet.

“I know, but…” you pause, wincing a little as another cramp hits. “I don't want to be a bother. Usually I can take a few ibuprofen and that helps; you can see how that’s worked out though.”

He looks at you, his expression one of sympathy. He hates seeing you in pain, even if it's just the natural discomfort of your period. He shakes his head, his tone firm but gentle.

“You're not being a bother. I want to be there for you, especially when you're hurting. Besides, there's more I can do than just give you ibuprofen.”

You look at him, a mixture of curiosity and scepticism on your face, “Like…like what?”

He smiles at your question, his hand moving from your shoulder to gently brush a strand of hair out of your face. He sits down on the couch beside you.

“Well, heat is good for cramps…you got the heating pad, so that's a start…but there's other things. Like, uh…” he pauses for a moment, his cheeks turning a light pink as he continues, "Massages. Those can help loosen up the tension.”

You raise an eyebrow at his suggestion, your heart rate picking up a little as you picture him giving you a massage.

The idea is both appealing and embarrassing, the thought of his strong hands touching your body—well, it's not unwelcome, to say the least.

He notices the look on your face, the slight change in your expression that tells him you're both intrigued and a little bit flustered.

He grins, a mischievous light in his eyes, “Don’t look so surprised, I pay attention to you when you rant about this stuff, you know. I-if you want me to, I could give you one.”

You glance at him, a conflicted expression on your face. On one hand, the idea of a massage sounds heavenly right now. The thought of his strong hands working out the knots in your muscles a very appealing one.

On the other hand, you feel a little self-conscious, the thought of him touching you like that when you're feeling bloated and crampy making you more than a little embarrassed.

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, internally debating what to do.

“You really don’t care…?”

He shakes his head, his smile softening as he looks at you. He can see the uncertainty in your expression, the conflict in your eyes, but he's not going to back down.

“Of course I don't care. I want to take care of you when you're hurting, carñio. And if that means giving you a massage, then that's what I'm going to do.”

Your heart skips a beat at the use of the nickname, the endearment making your chest feel warm and fluttery. You take a deep breath, the mixture of hormones and cramps making you a little more emotional than usual.

“Okay…Okay, fine. You can give me a massage.” You give in, your voice slightly shaky as you mentally brace yourself for what's to come.

He smiles, his expression satisfied as he hears your agreement, “Alright, then. Just lay down on your stomach and get comfortable.”

You nod, shifting your position on the couch to lie down on your stomach. It's not the most comfortable position, but it'll do for the massage. You position the heating pad against your stomach, sighing as the warmth begins to work its magic on your aching muscles.

He moves to kneel beside the couch, his gaze roving over your form as you get comfortable. He can see the tension in your shoulders, the way your back is arched slightly, the muscles strained and taut with discomfort.

Taking a moment to gather his resolve, his thoughts are little jumbled from the sight of you lying before him. Carefully, he reaches out and gently places his hands on your lower back, the touch feather-light at first.

You gasp at the feel of his hands on your skin, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. It’s a strange sensation, the mixture of pain and pleasure as he begins to gently massaging your muscles. He starts at your lower back, his fingers working in slow, gentle circles over the tense muscles.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as he works out a knot in your back, the tightness slowly loosening under his touch.

He looks down at you, watching as you slowly relax under his touch. He can hear the sound of your breathing becoming slower, a little more even, and he smiles faintly as he continues the massage. His hands move up to your shoulders, the touch firmer now as he begins to work out the tension in your upper back.

You let out another sigh as he moves up to your shoulders, the feel of his touch both soothing yet forceful. His fingers are strong and sure, the pressure just enough to loosen the knots in your muscles without hurting you.

The heat from the heating pad combined with his hands is gradually making your muscles relax, the pain from the pulsating cramps slowly fading into the background as he continues.

He continues the massage, his hands moving over your back and shoulders in a rhythmic pattern. He can feel the knots slowly dissipating under his touch, the tension in your muscles melting away like snow in the sun.

He looks down at you, a satisfied smile on his face as he notices the way your body is completely relaxed now, all traces of pain and discomfort erased from your features.

“Feel better?” He asks, his voice a soft rumble in the quiet room.

You nod, “Mhm. Much better. You’re a saint, you know that?” Your voice a bit muffled by the couch cushion. You feel completely boneless now, the combination of the massage and the heating pad having worked wonders on your cramps. You feel so relaxed, like you could just melt into the couch and stay there forever.

He snorts, a small laugh escaping him as he takes you in your blissful state. You look so different now, all soft and boneless and relaxed. He can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction, knowing that he's the one who was able to do that to you.

He gives your back one last gentle pat, his hands lingering on your skin for a moment before he pulls back. He slowly stands up from his position on the couch, stretching his arms a little before looking down at you with a wry smile.

“Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

You nod, not even opening your eyes as you just mumble out a quiet “kay”.

He watches you for a moment, a small smile on his face at your lazy state; It's a rare sight, seeing you completely relaxed like. He shakes his head faintly before heading out of the room, leaving you alone for a moment.

You lay there, your eyes closed and your mind blissfully empty. The absence of pain combined with the relaxation from the massage has made you feel as though you’re floating on a cloud.

After a few minutes, you hear footsteps returning to the living room, and you hear Eddie speak again, “Alright, time to sit up a little...”

You grumble a little at the sound of his voice, not wanting to move from your comfortable position. But you know you have to sit up for whatever he has planned, so you reluctantly force your limbs to cooperate, shifting your body so you’re sitting upright on the couch.

He sits down next to you, holding a steaming mug of tea in one hand, “Drink this.”

He hands the mug to you and you take it, surprised by the gesture. You look down at the contents of the mug, the rich aroma of chamomile filling your nostrils.

“You made me tea?” You take a small sip of the hot liquid. The tea is warm and soothing going down, the flavor earthy and relaxing on your tongue. You take another mouthful, the heat from the liquid spreading through your body like a soft, comforting blanket.

He nods, watching as you take another sip of the tea. He can see the look of contentment on your face, the way your body is still relaxed from the massage.

He scoots a little closer to you on the couch, slinging one arm around your shoulders and pulling you against him. The action is casual but affectionate, a silent gesture of comfort.

You lean into his side, the closeness making you feel safe and cared for. Slowly, your eyes slip shut as you bask in the feeling of being in his arms, cradled against his chest like a precious treasure.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” You murmur, your voice soft and sleepy.

Eddie smiles, his arm tightening around you in a gentle squeeze. He presses a light kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair.

“Of course, carñio. I'll always take care of you, no matter what…You just relax and enjoy the tea.”

You nod, already half-asleep from the combination of the tea, the massage and the general feeling of exhaustion that comes with your period. You finish the rest of the tea, setting the empty mug on the coffee table in front of you before snuggling further into his embrace.

You can feel yourself drifting off to sleep, the sound of his heartbeat like a soothing lullaby in your ears.

“Mmm….I love you, Eds.”

He hears your sleepy admission, the sound making his heart flutter in his chest. He tightens his arms around you, holding you close as he replies in a hushed voice.

“I love you too, carñio. I love you so much.”

[fandomwritingbit]

The scarf fic was amazing! Short but gold. I absolutly loved it and I think it has huge potential for a series or a longer fic. Pervy william is what I *need* rn, seriously requesting a continuation;-;

Thanks for this request, it was much too nice to revisit prevy Will. Here's a little continuation, I might get around to some corruption smut in the future ;)

Lost Property - pt. 1 here

William Afton x fem reader

“Bugger.” You say to yourself as you lift up the few garments on the coat hook in search of your scarf. How can you have lost it already? “Bleeding ridiculous…” You mutter: it’s not there. Some fucker has probably swiped it, though to be fair you should know better than to leave anything unattended here, people’s belongings have a nasty habit of just ‘going walkies’ when not under lock and key. 

You’re feeling pretty defeated until the thought strikes you that maybe somebody handed it in to the office. It’s at least worth a check. And so, not before putting your stuff in a locker, you take a breath and knock on your boss’s office door. 

There’s a pause before his gruff and impatient voice lets you know that someone is in. “Yeah. Come in.” And you do.

“Hey Mr Afton…” You smile at him as you usually would. Not the kind of faux-bright grin you give customers but a more special self-deprecating one, reserved purely for colleagues. He actually smiles back, though it’s slow to spread across his face.

You are just a pleasure to see, especially wearing the same skirt as last time, the one that’s a couple of inches too short and delightfully skin-tight. The skirt that he thought about when he made the rota, always putting you on the shifts that he was supervising just so he can see how good you look in it.   

“You alright, y/n?” He grins, eyes eventually finding their way to your face, the cool gaze making your face hot. 

“Uh not too bad- I just wanted to ask if any scarves have been handed in? I left one here the other day and it’s not on the hook.” 

…

Oh dear. He might have known this would happen. Your scarf certainly wasn’t handed in, in fact he knows precisely where it is and you definitely aren’t getting it back any time soon. Hell, no one’s having it, lest they pry it out of his cold, dead, horny, hands. 

He sniggers briefly and you feel left out of some joke. “No, there’s nothing in here.” He prides himself on how naturally that leaves his tongue, because it’s not technically a lie. Then the most devilish idea appears in his mind. “... But I’m not sure about lost property, you could look there.” 

And where is that, Mr Afton? 

“Right. I haven’t looked in there before, where is it?” 

The grin on your boss’s face becomes particularly wolfish and you swear his eyes sparkle. “Here, love. I’ll show you.”  

~

After a short walk, spent behind your boss trying not to be put off by the way he towers over you, he shows you into a small room, little more than a cupboard. There’s shelves up the wall with boxes and baskets and shit, and on the floor a large clear bin full of clothes. He holds the door for you and stands aside to let you in. You throw him a polite smile over your shoulder, expecting him to leave you to it. But when you turn your back and crouch down to open the bin, you don’t hear any footsteps behind you. And turning around only confirms his lean frame still in the doorway.

You brush it off as maybe he just wants to be out of the office for a bit, and start rifling through the fabrics, looking for the distinctive light blue silky texture of your scarf. But with the amount of stuff in here it’s going to take a while. 

William leans against the frame, taking in your perfect form, sitting there on your feet. That skirt stretched thin around all the best parts of you. This is the best idea he’s had in a while and he isn’t going to let it go to waste. So he pulls his phone out from the front pocket of his trousers, careful to keep flicking his gaze on you, and opens his camera to start taking a few photos of you down on your knees.  Knowing how grateful he’ll be to himself later, when he has the opportunity to act on the stiffening of his cock just from the sight of you. It’s hard for him not to touch himself right now, but he’s not that careless, a sweet thing like you would need breaking in.

“I don’t think it’s here… fuck’s sake.” You mutter the last part, though when you turn and see your boss with an amused expression, you apologise automatically. 

“You don’t have to be sorry.” He chuckles, watching you stand to your feet. He pauses as he considers whether to say the next part. “It’s a shame about your scarf though, it looked lovely on you.”

You smile, a little dazed by that comment. It was unexpected to say the least, especially from such a handsome and scary man as Mr Afton, and especially when he said it like that. You’re suddenly very aware of how you were just on your knees in front of him and it makes blood rush to your face. Then it occurs to you that you’ve been quiet for a fair while, so you rush a response, “Uh thanks- my friend is gonna kill me, she only gave me it two weeks ago.” Embarrassment doubles after you’ve finished babbling, god you need to get out of this small room. 

He just laughs, finally moving out the way enough to let you out, revelling in how such a little complement made you so flustered. “I’ll keep an eye out for you, but if it’s been nicked there’s not a lot we can do.” 

“Yeah, it’s fine honestly. I just wanted to have a look.” Right now you just feel silly, like you’ve wasted his time. You just want to get out on the floor and start your shift away from the eyes of this attractive man. And mercifully he lets you go, not without walking you back down the corridors with a large and intimidating hand on your lower back, the gesture now making your hands sweaty.    

It’s only when you’re gone and he’s back in his office that he adjusts himself in his trousers, not a stitch of guilt at the fact that just having you alone made him hard. And the knowledge of those photos made him throb. 

You poor, cute little thing, he’s going to ruin you. 

[rzyraffek]

This is my first time doing an ask, but I was wondering if I could request an ftm/ftnb reader x slasher fic (any character you think would fit/any character you want to add) where the reader has trouble breathing in the winter/cold and wearing their binder just makes it worse and their whole body is sore due to going up and down stairs so much so they can't keep up with the slashers longer strides and has to run after them.

Like, if the reader and the slashers were at the zoo or somewhere outside and the reader just started to take SUPER deep breaths just to be able to breathe normally or just to get air; especially after walking up or down stairs or hills.

And at one point the reader just gets tired of having to take so many deep breaths so they just go the the bathroom and take off their and layer two jackets over their shirt since they didn't bring an extra bra.

And like about 20 minutes later, reader STILL has to take super deep breaths just to actually breathe and having to run after the slashers just to be able to walk next to them; but with how sore reader is, they can't keep up with their partner and often has to take 3-minute breaks just to be able to catch their breath.

Remember binder users! You should wear them only up to 6hours daily! Dont ruin your ribcage!! I use to wear binder so yeah, I get it.

Anyways👹ofc i will write this!

So bacially, ftm s/o struggles with breathing due to binder and weather! You didn't specified which slashers so I will just go with flow on this one!

Slashers with s/o that struggles with breathing due to binder

Micheal Myers

Don't worry dude is used to noises of people choking to death lol

But fr dude gets a bit worried? He doesn't like how sometimes s/o has to take breaks just to breathe

If you guys are in rush and s/o has to take a break dude will just "hell nah fuck this" and pick s/o up

Micheal really doesn't care about gender or sex. Your a dude? 👍. There's no need to 'prove it' or look certain way for him to belive you

Brahms Heelshire

Dude fr will set a timer on his phone so s/o won't 'overdose' binder 😭

Erm honey you are starting to hyperventilate, its time for a break dont you think?

Brahms acually did his homework and read bunch of articles about binders and now he understands way more😊👍

Darling remember to exercise before and after you wear it so it less uncomfy

Finds s/o very cute and squishes them too hard sometimes

Billy Lenz

????

The fuck?Are you suffocating or something? *judges*

What feels worse? Wearing binder a bit too tight or billy sitting on your chest while your trying to sleep?

Bro doesn't understand what is "gender dysphoria" and tired to hide s/o binder once cuz he didnt trust it

Lucky for you Billy doesn't go outside, so you don't have to worry about him getting lost walking faster than you

What are pronouns?

Jason Voorhees

Oh Jason you big baby

Jason just feels bad, cuz he knows that s/o feels less cool without the binder but baby you cant breathe😭

Of course he will wait for s/o and he won't rush them at all!

Will try to convince s/o to not wear binder so often. Jason sees you as a perfect boufriend weather you wear it or no

Genuinely worried about s/o health

Asa Emory

Ah creature, why would you think that wearing binder for whole day was a good idea?

Dude is smart, he already knew what binders are!

He is aware that trans people often struggle with dysphoria and he can't just be like "dont wear a binder lol" so he tries to calming explain that nono honey you are a man even if you don't have a flat chest i love you

If he finds out that s/o whats a top surgery, Asa went "Alr bet" and then your bank account blew up

Funfact! If s/o was openly trans before they met Asa... dude was convinced that s/o just has severe asthma 😭 he was like ??? Uh do you have your inhalator with you?? Or like is it temporary???

👽guys I ate good chicken today. With sauce

Also im not sure if its good? I kinda forgot how to write entering stuff😭😰

[hylkun]

30 DAYS | L. HEESEUNG

DAY 1: THE CONFESSION

SYNOPSIS: in which y/n l/n gives lee heeseung 30 days before graduation to prove his feelings for her are genuine.

PAIRING: popular!heeseung x quiet!fem!reader

GENRE: high-school!au, angst and lots of it, fluff

masterlist >> next chapter

"Please, I'm begging you! Come to the party with me. You already know how Wooyoung gets when he's drunk, and I don't wanna deal with that alone. So please, come?"

Yunho begs you, interrupting your very-much-needed quiet time in the library. He pouted and was practically on his knees, begging you just to go to the party. You weren't a fan of parties, especially those hosted by Jang Wonyoung. Let's just say she's not one to be fond of.

"Why are you asking me, of all people? Go ask Hongjoong, doesn't he go to parties? I'm not a party kind of person." You reply, and Yunho's shoulders slump in defeat knowing that there was no changing your mind. Until, an idea clicks in his brain.

"Heeseung will be there!"

"Heeseung?" Your eyebrows furrowed at the mention of Lee Heeseung. What did he have to do with you going to a party? You'd never even spoken to the guy. "So?"

"So? What do you mean, 'So'? Literally everyone goes to the party just to get an eyeful of Lee Heeseung." Yunho says, slapping your shoulder playfully. "Plus, in Physics he's always staring at you like you're some angel."

"Um, Yunho, I don't really care. I've never even spoken to the guy. So I'd rather stay at home and binge watch Business Proposal. Again."

Yunho groans in disapproval. "Ugh- fine. But if I call you piss drunk, you better not complain." You hum in agreement and continue your studying that was interrupted. Suddenly, after minutes of silence, Yunho becomes quiet, surprisingly, and whispers in your ear;

"Speak of the devil, there's Heeseung right now!" He ducks down, as if it would make any difference due to his height, and watches Heeseung roam the library, as if he was in search for someone.

And it seems the someones were you and Yunho.

"Oh, hey, Yunho!" Heeseung greets the man who was once attempting to hide. Giving him a fist bump, he takes a good look at you before acknowledging your presence. "Hi, (Name)." He says, smiling sweetly and taking a seat in front of you.

Knowing Heeseung's reputation around campus, it was pretty odd to see him around a place such as the library. Yunho seemed to take that into account, too, because now he's grinning mischievously. "So, Heeseung, what brings you here of all places? Looking for someone?" He asks, the question making Heeseung's cheeks turn a red that you would only notice if you'd stared hard enough.

"Uhm, actually, I just wanted to know if you are going to Wonyoung's party tonight? Of course, not (Name), I know she's not the type to go to parties," He says, chuckling softly. How the hell did he know you didn't like parties? Maybe he just assumed, from your quiet personality.

"Yes, I am going, actually! At least I'll have someone to accompany me, since someone didn't wanna go," Yunho grumbles and gives you a nasty look. "I know Heeseung will be sad you're not going, since he likes you and stuff."

The silence in the room was thick as stone. The atmosphere felt heavy, almost palpable, and the only sound that could be heard was the sharp clicks of a keyboard as someone typed away in the library.

"Like me? What-"

"Yeah, I've said too much. Sorry Heeseung, you're on your own here."

Is all Yunho says before he speed walks out of the library, leaving you and Heeseung in front of each other.

"Well, this isn't how I wanted to confess, but I'll guess it'll do. I like you, (Name). I always have. Uh, I hope this doesn't make things, you know, awkward between us."

Lee Heeseung, the school's biggest playboy, has a crush on you? You were doubting that for sure. He's probably dated half of the females in the senior year, even your best friend, Leeseo.

"I'm sorry Heeseung, but if this is some kind of joke I'm not buying it. And I would really hate to believe that Yunho was in on this, too," you mumble, making Heeseung frown in disappointment.

"Look, I know hearing such a thing from me can be unbelievable, but I promise I really do like you. What can I do to prove it to you?" Heeseung pleads, clasping his hands together and pouting.

You were almost contemplating changing your mind.

But, knowing his background, it would take a while for him to gain your trust.

Plus, graduation is at the end of the month, so...

"I'll give you until graduation to convince me to say yes."

Heeseung cheers, although it wasn't a yes, but quickly quiets down once the librarian gives him a nasty look. He chants a mantra of 'thank you's and kisses your cheek before walking happily out the library.

Who knows, maybe the month won't be as bad as you had thought.

masterlist >> next chapter

taglist: @zerobaseone-zhanghao @jooniesbears-blog @heeswif3y @nshitae @llvrhee

[pixelblue2016]

[@themissingnumbers - blue (i did end up deciding to do it eheh. also do NOT feel the need to draw this i can't keep things short for the life of me)]

"... Hey."

He isn't sure how he got here. Not sure what he's trying to accomplish. Sure as anything, though- keeping his distance out of hesitation, uncertainty- there's another Blue. Taller. Older. Tired. He stares at the younger boy with an expression that almost seems... Sad.

"Uh... Gods, what do I..."

He rubs the back of his neck, searching for his words.

"I... Heard about you. About this. 'bout what happened. Guess it struck a chord. You're still... young, though- and you've got a good friend up there, it seems."

He glances up at Justine, waving through the screen, before turning his attention back to Pixel.

"I guess I just wanted to... meet ya, y'know? It's not every day you get to see somethin' like your younger- or, older for you- self."

Blue sighs heavily, his expression dropping.

"... I'm sorry about Revvy. I know how hard it is to lose someone you care about so much. For the world to turn against you cus of it. To want to change things so bad, but you're just... powerless. I- I'm glad you've got a real pal, though. I think that... that's somethin' that'll take you far."

Finally, he smiles at the younger boy, eyes lighting up a bit.

"Gods, that's heavy, huh? I guess all to say- I get it, I think. And I'm happy ya got someone there for you. How did you guys become friends? What's the rest of your life been like, uh... Living with her, I guess?"

Blue── Er, well, Pixel, turns around to the source of the voice. He seemed hesitant at first, shoulders rising up to his ears. He never expected another version of himself to visit him, let alone an adult one. He looked so. . . Odd. Pixel couldn't put his finger on it.

As soon as the other greeted Justine though, Pixel felt himself relax more. It seems like this was safe, seeing that the player gave a thumbs up back to Blue.

Pixel listens, thoughts running around, especially when Revvy was mentioned. It's painful to hear his name uttered from someone else, but he can manage it. It's rude to make faces at a guest, so Pixel bites his bottom lip to keep his expression neutral.

“So it's… it's you, right? The um,”

Pixel gestures over to Blue,

“It feels nice that I'm not the only one── I mean! Obviously it's, it's not great but, it's just nice that there's other people like me, I guess? Or are me? This is weird──Not that you're weird!”

He nervously chuckles, he can't help but smile. Taking a step or two closer, the child leans side to side, studying Blue. Super tall, lanky. Pixel wondered if this is what he could have looked like if he were to have grown up someday. Would he have hair like this? Clothes like that?

Would he still have his eye if he didn't…

Ah! A question was directed to him, and he was staring!

“Sorry!”

C'mon, Pix! Be polite! He mumbles, giving out some “um” and “uh” noises as he wiggles his hands,

“It's um, it's nice to see you, first of all sir── sir? I um, I dunno what you call you, sorry── but to answer your question,”

He glanced back at the player, who holds the 3DS patiently. Justine blinks and directs her attention to the bottom screen. Oh whoa, Pixel projected a little drawing down there!

“I wanted to delete my game, and Gramps wanted to also. We talked about it before I talked to Justine about it, but… she really didn't like that idea.

She convinced me that the game doesn't have to be played normally to… function? I think that's the word. But um, yeah. We pretty much talked for a while and it turned into a habit where she'd visit me everyday before she went to school.

She showed me some cool stuff from her world, like other games, some TV shows, and movies. I really um, I really like hanging out with her! She helps me sort out my thoughts about… about the stuff that happened in my game.”

Pixel smiles warmly as he explains. While talking, he lightly rocks on his heels,

“I really am lucky to have someone like her. It makes me sad that some other beings like me and you don't have that kind of a player out there.”

Pixel’s smile alters once he glanced back up to his older self. He gulps, a finger pointing up── no wait, that's rude too. He pulls it back,

“Please let me know if this is rude to ask but um…

Why are your hands . . . Blue?”

[t0ast-ghost]

So the thing is I wasn’t going to comment on the sixth episode. I just got home from a hella good play and I’m tired so I relax with Star Trek but holy shit

What IS that

With that HELLO and welcome to my first thoughts on the sixth episode (The Enemy Within) of the original Star Trek series

Here we go:

- that is a fucking dog

- IS THAT BLOOD?!? On Star Trek???

- so he got transporter cloned.. WHY IS HIS FACE LIKE THAT THO

- I like the fact it’s told a bit in retrospect, like it starts off with the star date and saying that at the time they didn’t know he got cloned

- MCCOY! His friendliness and then the “I have no sympathy for clumsiness” bro wha

- DONT YELL AT MCCOY

- McCoy not knowing what to do about Jim so he goes to Spock lol

- what the fuck is that fuckin thing, it’s rabid man.

- anytime someone is holding the creature there is literally no reason for them to be holding it. Like Kirk is just holding it and then HANDS IT TO SPOCK.. WHY IS THIS NORMAL NOW

- so do people casually just sit on tables here? First we had McCoy, now Spock. Is it just science/medical officers?

- Vulcan nerve pinch for the win

- POV your boyfriends are deeply concerned for your wellbeing (side note: bones looks so soft in the first pic. He cares so much)

- “you have a point, Spock.” “Yes. Always, doctor” STOP FLIRTING

- “If I seem insensitive to what you are going through, you must understand it’s the way I am.” HE SAYS THIS WITH ALL THE CARE IN THE DAMN WORLD. Spock is the most emotional character I have ever seen

- uh oh the circuits

- nooo Sulu! Do they not have better cold protection?

- YEAH I HOPE YOU’RE IN PAIN FUCKER

- so I think what they’re trying to promote is the idea that there’s the kind and indecisive side and the animalistic “sinful” side that has all the impulses and power to make decisions and together they work so that the former side can calm the latter to be more… civilized?

- “god forbid I have to agree with Spock” they’re married and you cannot convince me otherwise

- was that dog okay? Like it was really fuckin angry at something

- HES DEAD JIM MOMENT! WE HAVE A HES DEAD JIM MOMENT

- “for once I agree with you, doctor” THEY ARE MARRIED

- Spock is so riled up rn (every time he shows emotion I’m commenting on it because I think he is so so emotional but then his whole thing is he isn’t)

- SPOCK YOUR LOGIC ISNT LOGICING (having a human half and Vulcan half I think is a bit different than literally being split into two people, but what do I know)

- they are literally the angel and devil on his shoulder, but married, and also in love with him

- what no no bring Sulu back. That was such a good delivery of lines I am so

- this episode shows the power imbalance between Kirk and Janice and that messaging could be more powerful if they really wanted. Like showing how Janice felt forced to say she was okay with it and wouldn’t tell anyone because it was the captain I feel was a big step to take in the 60s (because it was rarely if ever talked about especially on tv) but it still wasn’t enough and was treated horribly in the end. They brush off her experience and also let Kirk be near her which is not okay. I know they wouldn’t but I wish they’d actually addressed the fact that Kirk can pretty much get away with anything and the crew wouldn’t/couldn’t stop him unless they deem it truly necessary (which would be way to far)

- I think the Kirk stuff could be more impactful

- some of those close ups on Kirk are crazy

- Bones is so damn worried about him in the transporter room

- SPOCK IS STRESSED AND HE HESITATES

- “the imposters back where he belongs, forget him” but isn’t the thing is that he is you? Like he’s still there and apart of you, Kirk

Okay, that’s episode six. I don’t have much more to say about this episode.

Ep 1

All other episodes

[funnyscienceman]

Ok but like WHYY did ubisoft have to insist with the one game a year thing. Why couldnt they let syndicate cook in the oven more. Why do they have THREE queer men in the same game and not do ANYTHING with them!!!

Like yes, yes, i get it, i get wanting to for once make a story in a fun setting where you dont have to think about real life prejudice and hardships and bigotry and just have characters be silly, i love that too. I do! And id be all for that if doing it just didnt waste a potentially banger study of the characters and the setting ;-;

Like god i go back and forth on this constantly. I already love syndicate as it is, i think it's fun and neat and the happy gaming vibes about it is core to its identity, it's just that simultaneous to that, three queer men in the same game!!!

like GOD im still miffed that there are only, like, two or three fics about this, and so far i havent found any discussion or anything of it, but oh my god how different all three of them are from each other. You could do so much just with having any of them in the same room — and they are often enough in the same room (jacob and either ned or roth at a time), but nothing's really done there!

we have roth who sees fcking nothing wrong with getting kids hurt, because he doesnt actually care about anyone or anything, he's just some fucking joker wannabe that yeah, sure, probably has some anger and resentment at society because he's a gay man in his 40s or 50s by now, but jesus fucking christ retaliation against homophobia does not equal rampant needless unproductive violence roth!!!

then we have ned, who — i mean he doesnt ever give his opinion on whether kids deserve any respect or anything but considering in every other department he's pretty much just Some Guy, it'd be fair to assume he also has the extremely average stance of 'dont fcking kill kids and dont blow up buildings for no good reason??' in the grand scheme of the templar-assassin stuff he has just about as much relevance as roth: roth was just the boss of the blighters, ned just finances the fryes by virtue of them working for him. He probably doesnt even know about it, and tbh i dont even know if he'd care??? But like i imagine roth doesnt care in the way of 'as long as you dont get in my way, it's all set dressing,' ned i imagine would be smth like 'are yall fckin serious? are you kidding me rn? i have to skirt around transphobes on a daily basis, now youre telling me there's a secret society on top of that with even worse ideas?? What the fuck???'

like uh, not caring about it as in 'I cant deal with this rn i need a nap'

HE'S JUST AN EXTREMELY REGULAR PERSON (besides the crime lord stuff) IS WHAT IM GETTING AT.

then there's jacob, who's the youngest out of these guys btw, fckin 21 good god he should be at the club not trying to disassemble systemic oppression— ANYWAY

(ned is 27-28 over the course of the game, btw; we dont actually have a solid timeline for anything, just the year, so tbh jacob could've also been 20 and not 21 yet during the game. both he and ned have late birthdays, just a month apart)

so, yknow, being extremely early 20-somethings, both frye twins just take a train to london completely on impulse and dive headfirst into undoing the templars that've had an iron grip over the city for basically as long as they've been alive, yknow, as you do; and throughout the game jacob has to deal with goddamn daddy issues and fighting with his sister and insecurity and trying to be an assassin — and that's a lot for a guy to handle!! Especially one who's still just a couple years out of being a teenager! That's a fucking lot and if the devs are right, then he hasnt even realized that he's bi yet! Not until roth fucking kisses him while jacob's got a knife in his throat for the aforementioned indiscriminate, unproductive violence!

i mean, granted, yeah there were gay undertones during sequence 8, but i have to admit my bias here because i honest to god cannot take those missions seriously. Roth fucking preaches this and that about freedom and whatnot and then im plopped into the mission and it's the most rule-heavy shit ive ever seen in my short life as an assassin's creed player. Like what the hell, those missions were atrocious. Apprently i need to detonate the bombs a specific way, i cant just shoot them from a distance, i have to hold a button crouching down right next to the bombs, and then run the hell away! I have to avoid THIS and THAT while kidnapping xyz! Like there's freddy's apprehend missions and then there's THIS.

at least with ned's missions all you have to do is get the shit and go… i'm still salty that ubisoft cut his questline because they fucking insist on releasing a game a year >:((

my battery's dying. All these guys are different flavors of queer on top of just being pretty different and pretty similar in various ways, and there's just… barely anything about it. Ned especially, since he's just a quest giver whose screentime totals to, like, 2-5 minutes. I just wish they really did more with the setting; not just the queerness and these three specifically, but like, evie, henry, the class conflict — like there are shreds of it, seeds, but there's not much before you kill starrick and credits roll :((

idk. im just gonna refresh ao3 again cjemddjekjx

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Oh Rafael my precious boy! I will buy him everything he wants and most importantly: make a nest on the sofa, cuddle him all he wants and watch movies with him all day and buy his favourite snacks🥺

He deserves the woooooorld😭

How is he doing these days?🥹❤️

Oh, Raf is fine these days, but remember when he wasn't-

CW: Takes place when Rafael was at his first safehouse. Soooooo much casual slut shaming here, people. So... so much angst.

They go quiet when he comes back, the group of three sitting at the kitchen table. Rafael feels their eyes on him like lit matches on the tips of his fingers and he hunches his shoulders, arms crossed in front of him. His backpack is lighter than when he left, and he wonders if anyone ever pays enough attention to notice.

"Holy cow, I didn't even know he was gone," A former Domestic, Freddie, says with a slightly nervous, airy laugh. Her voice is a whisper that isn't quite quiet enough, but Raf pretends he can't hear it anyway as he slips his shoes off to leave on the little rug by the door.

"That's what they do," Another says - Sam, or Sal, or something else Raf can't quite remember. His voice sounds like he must be rolling his eyes, but Raf refuses to look and see if he is or not. "They sneak around like that, they teach them in training. I saw one getting his feet whipped because he walked too loud once."

"Gross. That-... that sounds awful." Raf blinks, surprised at the hint of sympathy, and glances over to see Freddie shiver.

"Honestly, he probably liked it. They love that stuff, that's why they get picked for it. They're just like that already. I heard they have to talk about their-" Sal lowers his voice, but it still carries. "-their kinks with their handlers when they sign up."

Rafael's face burns as he moves to walk past the doorway. His handler never asked him what he liked or didn't like. His handler had told him outright it didn't matter and the person he was before didn't exist any longer. He, if he wanted to be good, would learn to want what his master or mistress wanted, there was no such thing as having a desire of his own. Did they not know that?

It was warm outside, and he'd been sweaty on the bus in his black sweater and pants with the sun beating down and heating them up, but now he shivers from a chill that lives entirely under his skin.

They know. They don't care. The idea that he wanted it all is easier, and... he must have, right? Or he wouldn't have ended up like this.

"Hey." The third one speaks up, waving to get his attention. "Uh... Romantic. What was your name again?"

Raf pauses, turning to look instinctively, meeting three pairs of flat, hostile eyes in flat, hostile faces. Mr. Martin swears they'll warm up to him, but they never have. Maybe no one ever will. Even Mr. Martin treats him like there's slime on his skin, especially when he said he didn't want to change his name. "It's Rafael. Yeah?"

Vex, that's what the third one calls himself. Raf remembers that, because he'd told Rafael once it was because he hoped him running pissed off the people he'd run from. Rafael had thought he was sharing as a way to break the ice, but then Vex had never spoken to him again. Until now.

Vex's eyes narrow. "Where do you keep going all the time?"

His heart stops, panic sparking like torn wires in his nerves, but Rafael knows how to be terrified and never show it. He only smiles, perfect and pretty, his good-pet-grin. "The library. I'm trying to learn how to read again."

His voice comes out smoothly sincere. He's a good liar. All Romantics are incredible liars. That's what everyone says, anyway. And Raf is pretty good at it.

"Huh." Vex shares a look with the others that Raf can't quite read, and his prickling unease keeps rising. "You never come to our group lessons, though."

Rafael has an answer prepped for this. He shrugs, unbothered. "You said it wasn't comfortable for you when I did."

Vex frowns, thoughtful, some of his prickling hostility fading. To Rafael's shock, he looks... almost guilty. "... Oh. Yeah. I forgot we told Mr. Martin that."

"You kept sitting with your legs open," Freddie says, voice slightly uneven. "And... sitting too close."

"... I know. Again, i'm-... sorry, I am, I didn't even know-... No one told me until Mr. Martin said you told him-"

"Whatever." Vex snorts. "Let's talk about the library. You're spending, like, hours over there."

"Well... It's not just learning to read." His heart isn't pounding in his throat at all, he can't feel his fingers trembling until he hides them in his pockets. He doesn't even flush when he realizes in a spike of shame that there's an empty condom package still in there. He forgot to throw it away before he got back. It crinkles and he has to fight not to widen his eyes. The sound feels impossibly loud.

It must not carry. None of them seem to notice.

Freddie nudges Sal with her elbow. "Told you so. He's fucking somebody."

Sal sighs. "I didn't argue with you, Fred."

Vex's eyebrow raises. "That's against the rules. Mr. Martin says no inappropriate relations inside or outside the house. Especially sex ones. You'll get kicked out for that."

"I'm not sleeping with anyone," Rafael lies without even batting an eyelash. "You can have Mr. Martin check my phone, I'm at the library the whole time."

The phone is, anyway. He leaves it there, most of the time, in a hiding spot inside a conference room nobody ever uses, before he meets one of the other Romantics who work on the street and goes back to the apartment and the warmth of their arms and the familiar slick slide of their bodies against his. Sometimes he has money to pay, sometimes he doesn't, but they open the door even when he has nothing but his body to offer.

Sometimes they just hold him, and it's enough to make him feel human again, for a while, anyway.

Vex looks at him, then away. "Whatever. As long as you're a creep somewhere else, who cares what you do?"

Raf swallows. His throat feels too small for the air he has to breathe. "You can ask Mr. Martin-" He starts again, catches his voice wobbling and fights hard to keep it steady, falsely confident.

"I'm not a snitch," Vex interrupts, snapping the words angrily. Raf catches himself backing up instinctively to avoid anyone who might be angry getting close enough to hurt him for it. "None of us are. We aren't Romantics like you."

"Yeah, we're not the ones who go tell the owners whatever gets them more dick and called a good boy," Sal sneers. Freddie just looks worried and a little scared of them all. Raf's face burns bright red.

"I-... I don't-"

He does, though. Sort of. Rei, his second-favorite of the others he finds on the streets who understand him, calls him that at the end. Raf likes it and Rei likes to play good and gentle owner with happy pet, using a soft voice that warms Raf inside and out with the idea of anyone ever saying it without the edge of humiliation or danger his own master and mistress held.

Sometimes just hearing it so sweet like that can have him coming in a flash or crying and the feeling is almost the same.

"It's-" Raf's voice finally cracks, and he clears his throat. He can't look them in the eyes any longer. "It's against the rules to use unkind language to each, each other-"

"It sure is." Sal snorts, derisive. Disgusted with him. "Gonna go tell Mr. Martin we were mean, Romantic?"

"My name is Raf-"

"We don't care. Look, you tell Mr. Martin we were big meanie-faces and hurt your delicate little slut feelings, then maybe we tell Mr. Martin that you're definitely not spending all that time just learning to read."

Rafael's heart beats so fast he feels like he's trying to outrun his own body. "No, I, I am-"

"We just said we don't care. Just... go somewhere else." Vex waves his hand, and Rafael turns on his heel and tries not to move like the beaten animal he is as he goes back to the room he stays in, alone, where he lays awake all night in a bed where there is no one to hold him.

How they talk to him would hurt less if it wasn't true.

He is sneaking off to find sex, the comfort he isn't allowed to have, the only touch anyone ever gives him. He does sit too close, and not know how to stand or sit in ways that aren't a wordless invitation. He does lie, over and over and over again.

He breaks all the rules and he can't seem to stop.

But... it's only because he's so lonely he could scream until his throat bleeds if he has to live where no one will touch him.

Rafael throws his backpack across the room, slamming his door so hard the frame rattles and hearing Mr. Martin's muffled no slammed doors, please! from somewhere else within the house.

Another broken rule.

Rafael collapses onto his bed, curling up on his side, pulling out the plastic feather he carries everywhere he goes. Rubbing his fingers over the texture helps remind him - the guy who gave him the feather thought he could do this. Believed in him.

Had said, somebody loved you, and really, really meant it.

Even if someone had, Raf thinks, they probably couldn't love him now. Not this version of him, anyway. And the guy, who had been gorgeous and had been one like him, definitely... He didn't really know Raf at all. No one does.

But everyone here thinks they don't need to talk to him at all to already know everything they needed to in order to judge him as worthless.

Their judgments would feel less like damnation if he didn't think so, too.

He'd only ever been worth what his body could do for the ones who put the collar around his neck. That hasn't changed at all. He just has no collar and no one to care for him now. No one who cares about him. His handler was right. He's only ever going to be wanted for one thing.

If it weren't for the feather and the memory of the man in the museum believing he deserves to be free, he'd walk outside right now and turn himself in.

Go back to his master and mistress, to a home that isn't home but at least there they cared enough to touch him.

At least there he had been lonely without being alone.