#their chemistry is and always will be amazing

[captainmalewriter]

The Jock Spell

With bated breath and blurry vision, Jeremy(?) stumbled over to the nearest mirror in the locker room. He looked at himself in the mirror while using the counter to hold himself up, and his jaw dropped when he saw his reflection.

“No, this wasn’t supposed to happen… Is that me?”

A couple of weeks ago, Jeremy Nguyen was just an average nerd with nothing particularly remarkable about him. He had a deep interest in all things fantasy-related. He graduated from college with relatively high marks and worked as a science teacher at his old high school. It wasn’t an exciting life by any means, but Jeremy was content with his simple, happy life. 

Aside from his usual nerdy hobbies, Jeremy had also started regularly hitting the gym ever since the new year rolled around. Sure he couldn’t lift more than 10 pounds and got tired after only about 8 minutes of light cardio, but it was the thought that counts. Not that it really mattered to Jeremy anyway. He wasn’t interested in becoming a full-blown gym rat or anything like that. Jeremy only started exercising so that his doctor wouldn’t give him yet another lecture about his health during his yearly physical. 

Jeremy pulled up to the gym one early afternoon. He normally went to the gym at night due to his busy work schedule as a teacher. However, thanks to an obscure local holiday, the schools were closed and he had the day off. Jeremy decided to switch up his usual routine and work out in the afternoon instead. He walked inside, did his warm-up stretching, and began his workout with some light hammer curls. The gym was surprisingly very packed that afternoon, especially compared to how empty it was at night. There were people everywhere! 

As Jeremy continued his workout, he noticed his gaze kept coming back to one particular man just across the free weights area from him. 

The guy was absolutely jacked from head to toe! Standing at 6’2” tall, he made a lot of other people in the gym look tiny by comparison. Jeremy watched with great awe as the muscular Adonis hit shoulders with dumbbells he could only ever dream of lifting off the ground, let alone work out with! 

However, despite the man’s amazing physique, Jeremy wasn’t attracted to him. He never liked the muscular look in men. Wasn’t really his type at all. Yet at the same time, Jeremy couldn’t stop looking at him for some reason. The man looked vaguely familiar. Jeremy racked his brain but couldn’t place his finger on it. It was weird. He tried ignoring him and just focusing on his workout, but then the man did something that made him remember exactly who he was. Near them was an overweight man who was struggling to get through a rep with just the barbell. The man watched him from afar and sneered like it was the funniest thing in the world. It was that cocky smirk that made bad old memories come flooding back in. 

The man’s name was Jared Taylor. 

That name and the arrogant smile that came with it haunted Jeremy for most of his teen years. To put it shortly, they had the stereotypical high school jock bully/scrawny nerd relationship you see in movies and TV. Jared loved teasing and making fun of others. Especially quiet nerds like Jeremy who played Pokémon in class after already finishing their work. Needless to say, Jeremy hated Jared with a passion. He was thrilled to finally be rid of the bastard when they graduated and went their separate ways. Jeremy went to study chemistry while Jared continued playing for some college football team. 

Jeremy never would’ve expected to see his former high school bully back in town. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like Jared recognized him (you would think he would after tormenting him for 4 years…) Plus, Jeremy always went to the gym during the nighttime anyway. He wouldn’t have to worry about seeing Jared Taylor ever again! 

Or so he thought. 

Much to Jeremy’s dismay, he kept seeing Jared every time he went to the gym. It didn’t matter if he went late at night or early in the morning before work, Jared was there— working out with some of the heaviest dumbbells the gym had to offer. 

Jeremy tried shrugging it off as mere coincidence, but his patience grew dangerously thin with every passing day he saw him. Jared’s cocky smile. His dominating presence. His haughty laugh just screamed, “I’m bigger, stronger, and just overall better than you!” Jared was already bad enough in high school, but he had only seen to have gotten worse with age! 

Then, on a random Saturday, Jeremy decided he had finally had enough. It was time someone stepped up and knocked the arrogant asshole down a peg or two. And who better to do it than the nerd he loved bullying every day? 

And so, Jeremy devised a plan to rid Jared of the one thing he loved more than trolling: his muscles.  Jeremy scoured through his massive collection of fantasy books and trinkets, searching for the magic he would need to pull off his plan. There were plenty of naysayers who didn't believe in magical powers, but Jeremy was never one of those muggles. He believed in magic ever since he was a kid and never stopped, even as he grew up. 

After extensive searching, Jeremy finally found a very old book of spells from back when he used to play D&D. The book puffed out a cloud of dust as Jeremy opened it for the first time in forever. An eerie smile emerged on Jeremy’s face as he read up on a spell designed to reverse a character’s stats and build. It was exactly what he needed to get revenge on Jared. 

Once he memorized how to perform the spell, Jeremy left for the gym that same night. Just as expected, Jared was there too. 

Luckily for Jeremy, the gym was empty that Saturday night, save for about a dozen people. The fewer potential witnesses, the better. 

Jared was busy hitting shoulders in the free weights area. Jeremy positioned himself so that he was just across from him in the cardio section. He had a clear shot of him. Once he was sure there was absolutely nobody watching, Jeremy set his plan into action. He used his fingernail to scratch the tip of his pointer finger until he bled out a couple of drops, then smeared it with his thumb and forefinger. Once that was done, Jeremy focused on his target and recited the spell. 

aketay awayyay isthay ansmay onfidencecay ybay urningtay imhay intoyay ethay ingthay ehay ateshay ethay ostmay

Jeremy’s finger shined a brilliant red as he finished casting the spell. A beam of light shot out of him as soon as he recited the last syllable, heading directly towards Jared. Jeremy smiled maniacally, knowing he was finally going to get his revenge after years of torment, though unfortunately, his pleasure was only short-lived. His smile faded as he watched Jared bend over to pick up a dumbbell, causing the spell to miss its intended target. Instead, the light hit the mirror, ricocheted, and hit Jeremy square in the chest, knocking him off the treadmill. 

God-DAMN IT!! How could I mess up such an easy shot!?

Jeremy writhed in agony. He couldn’t believe his plan failed just because of a little timing slip-up. Red with embarrassment, Jeremy forced himself to get up despite the great pain he was in. As he rushed over to the guy’s locker room to hide himself, the spell activated. 

Jeremy held his arms to his stomach as an intense wave of nausea washed over him. A strange warmth was radiating from his torso. His walking speed slowed as Jeremy found himself suddenly struggling to breathe. Low groans and growls escaped his mouth as his chicken legs exploded with body mass growth. It felt like his legs were on fire! The muscle fibers in his legs broke down and grew back rapidly until he had legs as strong and thick as a horse. Confused at what was going on, Jeremy looked down and audibly gasped when he saw his upper body transforming right before his very eyes. 

His chest puffed out as his pectorals grew and grew until he had a nice, firm set of daddy milkers. His shoulder span nearly doubled in length as the muscles in his back rapidly tore and regrew back within a matter of minutes. His arms thickened and hardened with muscle mass too. His once pencil-thin arms had become absolute cannons with biceps the size of melons and veins throbbing with strength. With a set of washboard abs to boot, Jeremy had become an insanely ripped bodybuilder— completely unrecognizable from his former skinny and weak nerd self. 

“Nnnn… What’s happening to me…!?” Jeremy huffed out a moan as forced himself to keep moving. He powered through the transformation pain and made it to the locker room where he could be alone. With bated breath and blurry vision, Jeremy stumbled over to the nearest mirror in the locker room. He looked at himself in the mirror while using the counter to hold himself up, and his jaw dropped when he saw his reflection.

“No, this wasn’t supposed to happen… Is that me? And since when did I become so… Jacked?”

Jeremy’s shocked expression morphed into a grin as he inspected his new body. Although he was never a fan of the muscular jock look, his tone quickly changed now that he was the buff one admiring himself in the mirror. He was practically purring with delight as he ran his hands over his arms, savoring the feeling of new, firm muscle on his body. Jeremy's original nerdy personality began fading away with every flex of his new muscles, leaving space for his new cocky gym bro attitude.

Then, wanting to get an even better look at his body, Jeremy stripped down to just his underwear. 

“Heheheh… Just LOOK AT MY MUSCLES BRO! I’M A GREEK GOD NOW!”

His voice boomed with newfound confidence as he spent well over half an hour just checking himself out. As he struck the double bicep pose, a sudden head pain brought Jeremy back down to reality. 

“Huh? What the hell am I doing?” Jeremy thought to himself. He massaged his forehead as he thought about the answer to his own question. However, the more he thought about it, the more questions about who he was began to pop up. 

“Who am I? What’s my name? What do I like? What do I dislike?”

He thought long and hard, but couldn’t find anything. It was like his own brain had been enshrouded in a deep fog. He kept thinking and thinking until for a brief moment, he had a glimpse of what seemed like an old memory. He was… Jeremy Nguyen? And he liked… video games, anime, and fantasy books— 

He shook his head. There was no way that description was right. He wasn’t a fucking nerd. Far from it. He took a deep breath and tried remembering his identity again. This time, the correct info came flowing in like water. 

His name was Isaac Nguyen and to him, working out wasn’t just a hobby but a lifestyle and a passion. He played football both in high school and in college, then dedicated his time and energy to bodybuilding once he graduated. His body was like a golden medal to him. It was his pride and joy, and he loved nothing more than getting a good pump and flexing in the mirror whenever he had the chance. 

With his new identity securely established in his mind and spirit, Isaac stepped out of the locker room to finish his upper body workout for the day. As he made his way to the free weights area, he noticed some scrawny dude with glasses struggling to curl a 10-pound dumbbell. Isaac had to stifle a laugh as he walked past him. 

“Heh, can’t even lift the beginner weight, what a fucking loser… Bet he spends all his time playing video games with his other dork friends. God, I can’t stand these kinds of dudes…”

As Isaac finished that thought, he ran into an old friend he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Oh shit, Jared! Where ya been, bro!?”

“Long time no see, man! Looking swole as always, big guy!!” Jared responded. 

The two men pulled each other in for a bro hug. As they pulled away, Isaac felt himself hating the man he just shook hands with. It was weird. Like he had some sort of deep-rooted resentment against Jared. But that couldn’t possibly be right. Isaac and Jared were best bros since they joined the football team together back in freshman year of high school. They were basically the kings of the school back in the day! 

Yes, that’s right… Isaac was a jock, just like Jared. He had always been one. Never a nerd. 

Never.

[angelluv16]

Rumor Has It

Charles Leclerc x Jenner!reader

✩: Kaia Jenner, the youngest Kardashian-Jenner, is an up-and-coming actress. When F1 driver Charles Leclerc casually calls her his favorite actress, the internet goes crazy. What starts as rumors turns into a whirlwind of drama, chemistry, and public scrutiny.

faceclaim: Cindy Kimberly, girls from Pinterest

Want to be added to my taglist?: Click here

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Jenner!reader

request: no!!

warnings: Hate, fluff, Angst, Language,

previous part | Main Masterlist | next part

-------------------------✩-------------------------

The red carpet was always a blur. The flashing lights, the endless stream of questions, the sea of cameras. But tonight felt different. The premiere of my latest film had drawn an even bigger crowd than I anticipated—probably thanks to the Jenner name, but I was doing my best to focus on what really mattered: the film.

I paused for a moment as I walked past a row of photographers, offering my best smile, keeping the nerves under control. It wasn’t easy, but it was the game I knew how to play.

"Kaia! Over here!" I heard someone call, a reporter waving me over to the side for an impromptu interview.

I stepped forward, adjusting my dress, ready to smile and answer the usual questions. “Kaia, how does it feel to be at another premiere?” the reporter asked, holding the microphone up.

"It feels amazing. I’m so proud of this project and excited to share it with everyone tonight," I said, rehearsed but still genuine.

As the interview continued, the reporter shifted topics, and I listened carefully. “We’ve been hearing a lot of buzz online, Kaia,” they said with a knowing smile. “Did you catch the interview with Formula 1 driver Charles Leclerc today?”

I raised an eyebrow, not expecting the question. "Um, no, I haven’t. What happened?"

“Well,” they continued, “during his press conference, he mentioned you. Said you were his favorite actress."

I blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

“Yep. He said you’re incredible, and he’s a big fan of your work. The fans are already going wild about it.”

I could feel my face flush as the words sank in. Charles Leclerc? The F1 driver? I had heard of him, of course, but we had never crossed paths. My mind raced as I processed it. Why would he mention me? What did it mean?

The reporter gave me a mischievous smile, sensing my reaction. “Looks like you’ve got a new fan, Kaia.”

I managed a laugh, trying to play it cool, though my heart was still racing. "Well, that’s... unexpected. But thank you."

As I walked away from the interview, my head was spinning. I wasn’t sure what to make of it. But one thing was for sure—this was just the beginning.

-------------------------✩-------------------------

liked by kyliejenner, charlesleclerc, jade_distinguinn, krisjenner and 3.6M others kaia.jenner: another premiere, another reason to wear something pretty.

view all 85,983 comments

username1: You ATEEEE this look. The moment, the queen, the icon! ♥︎ by kaia.jenner

username2: Preach

kyliejenner: Proud of you, babe! You killed it

kaia.jenner: Love you !

username3: Not me here after Charles Leclerc said he’s a fan

username4: Mother is MOTHERING.

username5: A Jenner with ACTUAL talent? We won.

username6: Not Charles lurking under this

nicksturniolo: Ate. Left no crumbs. ♥︎ by kaia.jenner

kaia.jenner: You do that every day

username7: She didn’t just walk the carpet, she OWNED it

username8: Another Jenner we don’t need

username9: Kaia Jenner to the paddock when??

carmenmmundt: A moment

username10: Did she buy this role or did mommy Kris negotiate it?

charlesleclerc: going to be streaming

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ kaia.jenner

{caption: Back In bed with coco}

-------------------------✩-------------------------

As Kaia sat back in her chair, her phone still glowing from the last message Charles had sent, a sudden wave of nerves hit her. She had been getting a lot of attention lately—especially since the premiere—but something about his words felt different. He was nervous? About watching her movie?

She had to admit, it was a little flattering. After all, Charles Leclerc wasn’t exactly known for being shy. And now here he was, nervously awaiting her movie—and possibly wanting to discuss it with her afterward?

Just then, her phone buzzed again, snapping her out of her thoughts. A new notification from Instagram.

Charles Leclerc liked your story.

Kaia blinked, frowning slightly. She didn’t think she had posted anything particularly noteworthy. In fact, her latest story was an incredibly casual photo: her curled up in bed with her cat, Coco, captioned “back In bed with Coco.” Hardly the kind of post anyone would expect a race car driver to notice, let alone interact with.

Her thumb hovered over the notification. It was just a like. Nothing else. No comment. No follow-up. Just that small action, but it felt... different. Her heart skipped a beat. Did it mean something? Or was it just another casual like from a public figure with a massive following?

Kaia couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of excitement and uncertainty. Was this how it was going to be from now on? Constantly wondering if something as simple as a like could mean more?

She quickly locked her phone and threw it onto the bed, trying to shake off the nervous excitement that had crept up on her.

-------------------------✩-------------------------

Soo Here is another Story But this time A Charles story. I've had this idea for the longest time, I always wanted to do something with The Kardashian-Jenner family and As far as I know no one has done it so here it is. Let me know what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist or my main taglist.

-------------------------✩-------------------------

[ineffabildaddy]

to all the people who worry the good omens finale will be 'rushed' or lacklustre or half-hearted: i think it might be worth remembering that, just because a lot of fans have complicated feelings about the finale, that doesn't mean the cast and crew will share those high levels of apprehension or doubt.

are they horrified at what they've learned about neil gaiman, and upset that the format for s3 was changed? yeah, probably. but they work in an industry where they never actually know whether they'll get to return to a role/job in the first place, creator controversies notwithstanding. cancellations happen all the time, production plans fall through all the time. they're probably really happy, after all that panic, that they do get to bring something more to these characters and this series. and in the face of having a shorter filming schedule than they'd like (if indeed it is wrapping after 5 weeks, which we don't definitively know), they probably went "right, let's smash it" and got stuck in.

they're professionals. this is what they do. even under unusual circumstances, we've got to hope that they love doing it. and in the case of david and michael, we know they love doing it. they adore these characters, crowley and aziraphale changed their lives... and most of all, for them, good omens has always been a fun project. they've always enjoyed themselves because the source material (the book) is so wonderful and the characters give them so much to work with, and on top of that they have great chemistry. i think we have to believe that their perception of these things largely hasn't changed.

from the outside, things might seem abnormal in that we aren't getting as much bts content from cast and crew as we did in previous years. we have to have faith that that lack of content is for professional reasons, not personal ones! have a little trust in these people that have produced amazing things before, and certainly will again.

it's going to be fine.<3

[moongirlcleo]

Defying Gravity

❤︎  tags and content: evol use, slightly dubcon because alcohol, f!reader, oral, face riding ❤︎  author note: check out all my fics by searching #moongirlcleo or on AO3

🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @cafekitsune  Fic: @moongirlcleo 

You were just trying to cook dinner. Caleb was just stopping by.

One glass of wine later, and suddenly you’re pinned to the wall, floating in midair, and realizing that his Evol isn’t just good for combat.

Turns out, telekinetic boyfriends have very creative ways to ruin you.

And he’s not letting you go until he’s had his fill.

The aroma of simmering spices fills your apartment as you stir the pot on the stove, humming softly to your favorite tune. The evening is calm, the city lights casting a warm glow through your kitchen window.

A familiar series of knocks echoes from your front door—Caleb's signature rhythm. Your heart skips a beat, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Come in, it's open!" you call out, wiping your hands on a towel.

The door creaks open, and Caleb steps inside, his presence commanding as always. He shrugs off his jacket, revealing the silver necklace with the apple charm you gave him years ago, resting against his chest.

"Something smells amazing," he remarks, his deep voice sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You chuckle, turning back to the stove. "Just trying out a new recipe. Hope you're hungry."

He moves closer, the warmth of his body radiating as he stands beside you. "Starving," he murmurs, but the way his eyes trace over you suggests he's not just talking about the food.

As you reach for a spice jar on the top shelf, you find it just out of your grasp. Before you can stretch further, you feel a subtle shift in the air. The jar lifts gently off the shelf, floating down into your hand.

You glance at Caleb, who smirks, his fingers twitching slightly—a telltale sign of his gravity manipulation at work.

"Show-off," you tease, but your voice is breathier than you intended.

He steps closer, his chest brushing against your back, his breath warm against your ear. "Just making things easier for you," he murmurs, his hands settling on your hips.

The simmering tension lingers between you, but for now, you refocus on the meal, stirring the pot with a determined effort to steady your hands. Caleb doesn’t make it easy, though—his presence is a gravitational force of its own, pulling your awareness toward him even as you try to act normal.

“Alright, pilot boy, if you’re so ‘starving,’ set the table,” you say, tossing him a playful smirk.

He chuckles, stepping back just enough to let you breathe again, but there’s something in his gaze—something amused, something knowing. “Yes, ma’am,” he teases, rolling up his sleeves before moving to grab the plates.

As you finish plating the food, Caleb uncorks the bottle of wine you had chilling on the counter. You arch a brow as he pours two glasses, lifting one toward you with a smirk. “A little celebration? For what?” you ask, tilting your head.

He clinks his glass against yours with a lazy grin. “For new recipes and good company.”

You huff a laugh, but there’s warmth in your chest as you take a sip. The wine is smooth, just enough to start loosening the edges of your thoughts, making the already potent chemistry between you and Caleb feel even more electrified.

The conversation flows easily—old memories, inside jokes, teasing remarks that toe the line between playful and suggestive. He watches you with that signature smirk, light violet eyes gleaming whenever you get flustered under his attention.

Somewhere between the second glass of wine and the last bites of dinner, Caleb leans back in his chair, stretching lazily, his gaze heavy on you. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to see you all domestic like this,” he muses, voice dipping into something lower, something indulgent.

You scoff, but your stomach flutters at the way he’s looking at you. “I can be domestic and still kick your ass, you know.”

He chuckles, swirling the wine in his glass before setting it down. “Oh, I believe it.” Then, leaning forward, elbows on the table, he tilts his head. “But I do wonder… do you always look this good when you cook?”

Your breath catches.

The air shifts again, and this time, you know it’s not just the wine.

You wet your lips, heartbeat thrumming faster. “Are you flirting with me, Colonel?”

His smirk deepens. “That depends,” he murmurs, voice smooth as silk. “Is it working?”

The heat in the room has nothing to do with the stove anymore.

You take another slow sip of your wine, eyes locked on Caleb over the rim of your glass. The warmth from the alcohol has settled deep in your veins, dulling the hesitation that might’ve held you back before. Your mind feels looser, freer—your body humming with a delicious awareness of him.

You set your glass down, tilting your head as you watch him, your own smirk playing at your lips. “You know, for all that confidence, I don’t see you making a move,” you muse, resting your chin in your hand. “What’s the matter, Colonel? Scared?”

Caleb’s brows lift slightly, but his smirk doesn’t waver. In fact, it deepens. “Oh, pipsqueak,” he drawls, his voice smooth like honey, but laced with something sharper, something dangerous. “You’re playing a risky game.”

You shift in your seat, leaning forward slightly, your hand trailing over the stem of your wine glass absentmindedly. “Am I?” you challenge, voice just a little too sweet. “Or are you just all talk?”

The moment the words leave your lips, his violet eyes darken, and the air between you tightens like a wire pulled taut. Caleb lets out a soft, amused huff, running his tongue over his teeth as he watches you with barely concealed intrigue.

“You really want to test me, huh?” he murmurs, his voice dipping lower.

You shrug, feigning nonchalance, though your pulse betrays you with how fast it’s beating. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

The scrape of Caleb’s chair against the floor is the only warning you get before he’s moving. One moment, he’s across the table—the next, he’s right in front of you, bracing his hands on either side of your seat, caging you in. The heat of him seeps into your skin, his scent—a mix of leather, something faintly smoky, and a hint of the wine—flooding your senses.

Your breath hitches, but you refuse to back down, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.

Caleb’s smirk softens into something slower, something more deliberate. “Careful what you wish for, pipsqueak,” he murmurs, his voice a whisper against your lips. “I don’t do half-measures.”

Your fingers twitch against the table, aching to close the remaining space between you.

You meet his gaze, lips curling in challenge. “Then don’t hold back.”

Caleb’s smirk deepens, his violet gaze flickering with something dark and unreadable. Without another word, he takes your wrist, his grip firm but unhurried as he pulls you up from your seat. The wine glass clinks softly against the table as you abandon it, but you barely register the sound—your whole world narrows to the man leading you down the hall, his presence searing into your skin like a live wire.

The moment you cross the threshold into your room, Caleb moves.

You're barely aware of your back hitting the wall, breath catching as he cages you in with his body. His hands land on either side of your head, his heat overwhelming, his scent invading every breath.

"You like playing with fire, don’t you?" he murmurs, voice low, teasing, dangerous. His eyes trace the curve of your lips, the way your chest rises and falls with each shallow breath. "Thing is, pipsqueak…"

Your body suddenly feels weightless.

The realization hits you at the same time your feet leave the ground—Caleb’s Evol wraps around you, a phantom force pressing into your limbs, holding you effortlessly against the wall as if gravity itself had no claim on you anymore. Your hands instinctively reach for him, but they find only air, your body suspended, restrained, at his mercy.

A startled gasp escapes you, but the rush of heat curling low in your stomach betrays just how much you like this.

Caleb chuckles, dragging his fingers down your exposed throat, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the way your pulse flutters under his touch. "You're not so bold now," he muses, his smirk widening. "That’s cute."

Your breath shudders, heat blooming across your skin as he trails his fingers lower, playing with the hem of your top.

“You had a lot to say back at the table,” he murmurs, voice like silk, pulling the fabric up inch by inch. "So tell me, pipsqueak—"

His lips brush your ear, his breath warm, teasing.

"Should I take my time with you? Or are you too impatient for that?"

Your pulse thrums beneath your skin, the weightlessness of your body amplifying every sensation. Suspended against the wall, your breath comes in shallow, heated gasps as Caleb’s fingers ghost up your sides, teasing, barely there. The smirk never leaves his lips, his violet gaze heavy with intent.

Your voice wavers, but you manage, “W-What are you gonna do to me?”

Caleb chuckles lowly, the sound rich and amused, yet dripping with promise. He leans in, his nose brushing along the curve of your jaw, making you shiver beneath his touch.

“I’ll show you,” he murmurs.

The moment hangs between you, electric, before his hands slip under the fabric of your shirt, gliding up your stomach, his touch setting fire to your skin. With agonizing slowness, he pushes the material up, his fingers dragging against you in a way that’s entirely deliberate, entirely teasing. His Evol keeps you aloft, completely at his mercy, and the realization sends another jolt of heat through your core.

One arm lifts your shirt over your head before he makes quick work of unclasping your bra, tossing it aside with a smirk. His gaze flickers over your exposed form, his pupils dilating as he drinks you in. You squirm, but there’s nowhere to go—his power holds you firmly in place, a reminder of just how easily he controls the space between you.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, dragging his knuckles down your ribs before settling them on your hips. “Already breathless, and I haven’t even started.”

Your thighs clench, anticipation coiling tight in your stomach. Caleb notices, of course he does, and his smirk turns downright sinful. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants, peeling them down inch by inch until they fall to the floor, pooling around your ankles. Your panties follow, slow and torturous, leaving you utterly bare before him.

He steps back just enough to admire his work, his Evol keeping you suspended as he runs a hand through his tousled brunette hair. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice dipping into something dangerously smooth, reverent even. “And all mine.”

Before you can even process the words, he’s dropping to his knees.

The sight alone makes your breath hitch, but it’s the first brush of his lips against your inner thigh that sends a tremor through you. He takes his time, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, dragging his teeth ever so slightly, just enough to make you whimper.

Caleb groans, as if your reaction fuels him, and then—oh.

His mouth is on you.

The first flick of his tongue is slow, testing, before he delves in properly, devouring you like a man starved. The strength keeping you weightless wavers just slightly, like even his concentration is slipping, but it only makes the moment feel even more raw, more desperate.

He groans against you, the vibration sending white-hot pleasure straight through your core. His grip tightens around your thighs, keeping you spread for him as he drinks in every gasp, every shuddering moan, every delicious sound that falls from your lips.

You have no choice but to take it.

Caleb hums against your heat, the vibrations making your whole body jolt. His grip tightens against your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wants you—where he needs you. He’s still kneeling, still devouring you like he has all the time in the world, but there’s something shifting in his energy now. Something hungrier.

Then, without warning, his Evol pulses through the room.

A weightless sensation overtakes you again, but this time, it’s different. You’re being lifted, his power adjusting your position until your legs are slung over his shoulders, your body hovering just above him. His hands leave your thighs, and you realize—he’s not even holding you anymore. He doesn’t need to.

He leans back against the wall, exhaling like he’s pleased with himself, his violet gaze locked on you as he settles in. A slow, lazy smirk stretches across his lips, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths.

Then he spreads his arms, completely relaxed, completely in control.

“Go on, pipsqueak,” he purrs, voice low, sultry, dripping with wicked amusement. “Ride my face.”

Your stomach flips, heat pooling between your legs at the sheer audacity of his words. Your mouth parts to say something—anything—but before you can, the pressure of his Evol shifts again, pulling you down, guiding you onto his waiting mouth.

Your gasp shatters through the room.

His tongue is relentless, moving against you with precision, with purpose. He tilts his head slightly, angling himself just right to drag his tongue over your most sensitive spot, flicking, circling, devouring. Your fingers grasp at nothing, searching for something to hold onto, but all you have is the weightless suspension of his power keeping you exactly where he wants you.

And Caleb?

Caleb is enjoying every second of it.

One of his hands drifts down his own body, slipping under the waistband of his pants, palming himself with a low, satisfied groan. The sound sends a shiver through you, your legs threatening to tremble around his head, but his power keeps you steady, keeps you moving.

He’s making you ride his face—without even touching you.

The way he moans against you, the way his hips roll up into his own hand, the way his violet eyes flicker up to watch your expression through the mess of his golden hair—it’s sinful. He’s lost in it, lost in the pleasure of pleasing you, lost in the taste of you, lost in the raw, electric tension that crackles between you both.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groans, breaking away just enough to rasp the words against your skin before diving back in.

Your whole body clenches, the pleasure overwhelming, the weightlessness making it all the more intense. He’s pushing you higher, pulling you deeper into the sensation, making sure you have nowhere to go except exactly where he wants to take you.

And the way he’s touching himself, the way he’s teasing his own release while dragging you closer to yours—

It’s utterly, devastatingly unfair.

And you love it.

Caleb’s grip on you—his Evol—tightens, keeping you suspended above him as his mouth works you over like a man possessed. The way he’s touching himself, the way his breath shudders against your skin every time he groans, it’s intoxicating.

His violet gaze flicks up, watching you from beneath thick lashes, pupils blown wide with need. He loves this. Loves seeing you helpless under his control, loves the way your body twitches when he sucks your clit between his lips and flicks his tongue just right.

"Caleb—" your voice breaks on his name, a plea, a warning, a desperate cry for more.

His smirk is filthy against you. “More?” His voice is muffled, but the teasing lilt is undeniable. “I thought you wanted to take your time, pipsqueak.” His Evol tugs your hips, grinding you down against his mouth, dragging another sharp cry from your lips. “But you’re so needy now. What happened?”

Your head tilts back, mouth falling open as he devours you, his tongue rolling slow and deep, alternating between torturous licks and sharp, focused flicks. He wants you to fall apart, wants to unravel you piece by piece. And the worst part? He’s not even touching you with his hands anymore. They’re still wrapped around himself, stroking with lazy, deliberate motions, hips bucking ever so slightly as he moans against you.

That sound—that sound—sends you spiraling.

The sheer audacity of him, pleasuring himself while pleasuring you, basking in the taste of you like he’s getting off on it. Like he’s so incredibly into this that he doesn’t need anything else.

You claw at the air, searching for purchase, but there’s nothing—only the delicious weightlessness of his power keeping you exactly where he wants you. He owns this moment, owns you, and he knows it.

His pace quickens, his tongue working you with ruthless precision, his own hand pumping faster. His grip on you tightens, guiding your movements, making you rock against his face until you’re gasping, until you’re right on the edge, until all you can hear is the slick sounds of his mouth against you, his breathless groans vibrating against your core.

“Caleb—” your voice is strangled, desperate.

His Evol tugs—one last push, one last command—and you’re gone.

Your body seizes, the pleasure crashing over you in waves so intense you almost sob. Your back arches, your hands flying to your own body as if trying to ground yourself, but there’s nothing, just sensation, just him controlling every second of it.

Caleb groans deep in his throat, savoring every shudder, every clench of your body around nothing, every choked moan of his name. His hips jerk into his own grip, his pace turning frantic.

"Fuck, look at you," he rasps, his voice wrecked. "You’re so beautiful like this."

Then, with a final, guttural groan, he comes hard, his body tensing beneath you, his breath catching as he spills over his hand. His Evol flickers, tightening around you just slightly before releasing you, letting you sink down onto him, boneless and wrecked.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of heavy breathing, of your bodies coming down from the high, of the soft hum of his power still lingering in the air.

As the haze of pleasure slowly lifts, you find yourself sinking onto Caleb’s lap, completely spent. His arms move instantly, catching you with ease, his Evol dissipating as he gathers you against his chest. His breathing is still uneven, his body still warm from exertion, but there’s something softer in his touch now—something careful, reverent.

“You good, pipsqueak?” His voice is lower now, husky but gentle, a quiet contrast to the raw dominance from moments before. One of his hands slides up your spine, fingers tracing soothing circles between your shoulder blades, grounding you. “I didn’t push too hard, did I?”

You hum against him, still too blissed out to form a proper sentence. Instead, you nuzzle into his neck, inhaling the faint, lingering scent of cologne and something so unmistakably Caleb—something safe.

His chuckle rumbles through you, the vibration making you smile. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He shifts slightly, his free hand reaching for a nearby throw blanket. In one fluid motion, he drapes it over you both, tucking you in like you’re something precious.

“Didn’t know you were such a cuddler,” you tease, your voice coming out softer than you expected.

Caleb scoffs, but there’s no real bite to it. “I just blew your mind, and that’s what you’re focusing on?”

You smirk, though you’re sure it’s lazy, content. “Mm. Maybe.”

His hand moves to your hair, his fingers combing through it in slow, rhythmic motions. “Well, don’t go telling everyone,” he murmurs, lips pressing the faintest kiss to your temple. “Can’t have people thinking I’m soft.”

You lift your head just enough to meet his gaze, catching the slight glint of amusement in his violet eyes. “Oh, you’re definitely soft right now.” Your teasing glance flickers downward, and he groans dramatically, rolling his eyes.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

You grin, pressing your forehead against his as a contented sigh slips from your lips. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I think I am.”

For a while, there’s nothing but the steady sound of his heartbeat, the warmth of his body against yours, the quiet way he holds you like he’s afraid to let go. It’s a stark contrast to the way he’d claimed you earlier, but somehow, this feels just as intense.

His fingers skim down your arm, tracing light patterns into your skin. “Let me stay the night,” he murmurs, almost absentmindedly. But then he clears his throat, adding quickly, “Not because I don’t think I can make it home or anything—just, y’know… no rush.”

You bite back a smile, nestling closer. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you don’t want  to leave.”

He exhales a quiet laugh, his fingers still playing with your hair. “Maybe.”

And with the way he’s holding you now, you think maybe you don’t want him to leave either.

[yara0546]

୨୧ Unexpected Sparks ✦ Lee Haechan  .    .    .    한 번의 샷   ;   ୨୧

୨୧ Pairing: lee haechan x fem!reader

୨୧ Genre: Romance, Drama, Slice of Life, Developing feelings, media scrutiny.

୨୧ Word Count: 4,000 words

୨୧ Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any grammatical errors, because I sometimes use a translator in some sentences.

୨୧ Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

Masterlist

The entertainment industry was a whirlwind of schedules, lights, and endless interactions. Yet, despite working in the same field for years, you and Haechan had never truly crossed paths beyond a passing greeting. That was, until fate or rather, a production team decided to throw you into the same reality show.

A new variety program had gathered multiple idols from different groups and agencies, pairing them up in teams for various challenges. When your name was announced alongside Haechan's, you barely had time to process it before the cameras were rolling.

You sat beside him in the van, staring out the window, unsure how to start a conversation. Haechan, on the other hand, seemed entirely at ease, scrolling through his phone.

“You’re quieter than I expected,” he commented suddenly, making you turn toward him.

“I don’t usually talk unless there’s something to say,” you replied honestly.

“Ahh, so mysterious,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “I thought you’d be more talkative.”

“I thought you’d be less talkative,” you shot back, and he gasped dramatically.

“Wow, I see how it is.” He placed a hand over his heart. “I was planning to be extra nice to you, but now you’ve ruined it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at your lips. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

The producers sent you both to an outdoor survival challenge. The task? Build a shelter and cook a meal using limited resources. The sun was setting, and you were both failing miserably.

“I swear, this isn’t working,” you groaned, dropping the half-built tent pole.

“You’re just not believing in it enough,” Haechan joked, trying to tie two sticks together with a shoelace.

You gave him an unimpressed look. “Yeah, because belief is totally what’s going to keep this thing from collapsing.”

He grinned. “Exactly! It’s all about manifestation.”

Despite the frustration, you couldn’t help laughing. There was something about him his energy, his unwavering playfulness that made the exhaustion feel a little less unbearable.

At some point, as you both sat by the fire, eating poorly roasted potatoes, he looked over at you, his face illuminated by the glow.

“You’re actually pretty fun,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual.

“You sound surprised,” you said, raising a brow.

“I am,” he confessed with a small chuckle. “I thought you were cold. But you’re just... guarded.”

The comment hit a little too close to home. You looked away, focusing on the flames. “Maybe.”

Haechan nudged your knee with his. “Well, you don’t have to be with me.”

And just like that, something shifted.

As the show aired in real-time, fans picked up on the growing chemistry between you and Haechan. The way he teased you, the way you rolled your eyes but always ended up laughing it didn’t go unnoticed.

Even the staff whispered about it.

“You two have amazing chemistry,” the PD commented one afternoon. “You should work together more often.”

Haechan smirked, shooting you a knowing look. “You hear that? We’re a dynamic duo.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you replied, but your cheeks felt warmer than usual.

The show was wrapping up, and soon, you’d go back to your separate careers. The thought made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t expect.

After the final shoot, Haechan found you outside, staring at the city skyline.

“Hey,” he called, stepping beside you. “We survived.”

“Barely.”

He chuckled before turning serious. “I don’t really want this to be the last time we talk.”

You met his gaze. “It doesn’t have to be.”

He hesitated, then smirked. “So, does that mean you’ll go on a date with me?”

You laughed. “Are you always this forward?”

“With you? Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I like you. A lot. And I don’t think it’s just because of the show.”

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding. “Me neither.”

His grin widened, and without thinking, he reached out, lacing his fingers with yours. “Then let’s see where this goes.”

And just like that, what started as an unexpected pairing turned into something real.

After the final episode aired, the response was overwhelming. Your names trended on social media, and clips of your interactions flooded fan edits.

"[Y/N] and Haechan have the best chemistry!"

"Why do they look like a real couple???"

"I swear if they're not dating, I’m suing the producers for emotional damage."

You scrolled through the comments, biting your lip. Truthfully, you missed the easy back-and-forth with Haechan. The past ten days had changed something—filming was exhausting, but he had made it fun. Now that it was over, you weren’t sure how to go back to… whatever you were before.

A message popped up on your phone.

Haechan [8:42 PM]: Saw a clip of us. Damn, we look good together.

Haechan [8:42 PM]: Wanna give the fans what they want?

You rolled your eyes.

You [8:43 PM]: And what do they want?

Haechan [8:44 PM]: Me as your boyfriend, obviously.

Your heart did a weird little flip.

You [8:45 PM]: I think you want that more than they do.

Haechan [8:45 PM]: Exactly.

First Date Or Was It?

A few days later, Haechan invited you out. Not a date, he insisted, just two coworkers hanging out.

But the way he showed up at your doorstep with a smug grin and an iced coffee in hand told a different story.

“Gotta keep my girl energized,” he said, handing it over.

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not your girl.”

“Yet,” he corrected, then held out his arm dramatically. “Shall we?”

You sighed but couldn’t fight your smile.

The night was… easy. No cameras, no scripted interactions, just you and him. He took you to a cozy, hidden restaurant where no one would recognize you. Over dinner, he kept stealing bites of your food despite having the exact same dish, and when you called him out, he grinned.

“Yours tastes better,” he reasoned.

“That makes no sense.”

“Neither does liking you this much after ten days, but here we are.”

You froze, chopsticks halfway to your mouth. He said it so casually, yet your heart went into overdrive.

“Why do you say things like that?” you muttered.

“Because they’re true.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Do you want me to stop?”

You hesitated, then shook your head. “No.”

His smirk softened into something more sincere. “Good.”

The Industry Complication

Dating in the industry was never easy. The second time you met after filming, a paparazzi shot of you together surfaced online.

"NCT’s Haechan and [Y/N] spotted late at night dating rumors?"

You saw the article just as your phone rang.

Haechan.

“Don’t panic,” was the first thing he said.

“I’m not,” you lied.

He chuckled. “You are.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “What do we do?”

“What do you want to do?” His voice was calm, reassuring. “We could deny it, say we’re just friends. Or…”

“Or?”

“Or we don’t say anything and let them believe whatever they want.”

You chewed on your lip. The easy route was denial. But something in you didn’t want to. You liked spending time with him. Liked the way he made your world brighter.

“…I don’t want to lie,” you admitted quietly.

There was a pause. Then, his voice came through, warm and teasing.

“Guess that makes you my girlfriend then.”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

“You kinda did.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “But don’t worry, you’ve got time to officially confess.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Wait—”

Click.

You stared at your screen, heart pounding. Maybe the sparks between you weren’t just for the cameras after all.

Dating in secret was fun stolen moments, late-night calls, the thrill of almost getting caught. But the industry was relentless, and rumors never truly died.

One evening, after an exhausting rehearsal, you got a call from your manager.

"We need to talk," they said, voice tight. "Now."

You arrived at the company’s office, only to find Haechan already there, sitting across from his own management team. He looked up at you, his usual playfulness absent.

Your stomach twisted.

The higher ups wasted no time. "We know you’re dating," one of the executives said bluntly. "Dispatch has photos. It’s only a matter of time before they release them."

You inhaled sharply. This was your worst-case scenario—losing control of the narrative.

Haechan leaned forward. "So what now? Do we deny it?"

"No," his manager said, exchanging glances with yours. "If we do, it’ll only make things worse when more evidence surfaces. The best option is for you both to confirm it on your own terms."

Silence.

You clenched your fists. "So we have no choice."

"It’s better than being exposed without warning," your manager reasoned.

Haechan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He turned to you. "What do you want to do?"

You looked at him. This wasn’t fair. But you knew how the industry worked. If you had to confirm it, at least it would be on your terms.

“…Fine," you said quietly.

Going Public

A joint statement was drafted. Both companies posted it at the same time.

"Haechan and [Y/N] have recently developed feelings for each other and are currently getting to know one another with good intentions. We hope fans will support them."

Within minutes, the internet exploded.

"[Y/N] AND HAECHAN ARE DATING???"

"My heart is broken, but I will support them."

"THEY WERE FLIRTING ON THAT SHOW, I KNEW IT!!!"

"I'm so happy for them! But I hope the companies don’t interfere."

Your hands trembled as you scrolled through the comments.

Then, your phone rang.

Haechan.

"Hey," he said, voice softer than usual.

"Hey."

"You okay?"

You exhaled shakily. "I don’t know. It feels… weird."

"Yeah," he admitted. "But you know what?"

"What?"

He chuckled. "At least now I can flirt with you in public without getting side-eyed by our managers."

You laughed despite yourself. "You’re impossible."

"Yeah, but I’m your impossible."

And somehow, despite the chaos, you knew you'd be okay.

Going public changed everything.

Fans dissected every interaction, analyzing past moments for “clues” about your relationship. Some were supportive, some weren’t. Hate comments filled your notifications, alongside heartfelt messages from those who genuinely wished you happiness.

Your company sent out a strict set of rules:

No excessive public displays of affection.

Keep interactions “professional” in group settings.

No talking about the relationship unless approved.

In short, they wanted you together, but only on their terms.

One evening, after finishing promotions, you met up with Haechan at a quiet café, hidden from prying eyes. He was already there when you arrived, hood pulled low, a cap covering his hair.

The moment you sat down, he reached for your hand under the table, lacing his fingers with yours.

"Rough day?" he asked.

You sighed. "You could say that."

He tilted his head. "Hate comments?"

"Mostly." You looked down at your coffee. "It’s weird. I knew people would react, but seeing it… feels different."

His grip on your hand tightened. "They don’t know you. They only know what they think they know."

You gave him a small smile. "Easy for you to say. You thrive on attention."

He smirked. "Yeah, but I only care about your attention."

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest spread.

Then, his expression turned serious. "Are you happy?"

You blinked. "With you?"

"With… all of this. Us being public, the pressure. I know it’s a lot."

You hesitated. Was it hard? Yes. Was it overwhelming? Absolutely.

But was it worth it?

You glanced at his fingers still intertwined with yours. At the way he looked at you, completely unguarded.

"Yeah," you admitted softly. "I’m happy."

His smile was immediate, wide and bright. "Good. Because I’d hate to go through all this drama just to find out my girlfriend wants to dump me."

You snorted. "You're so dramatic."

"That’s why you like me."

"Debatable."

He gasped, clutching his chest. "See, this is why I’m dating you. I like the challenge."

You laughed, the weight on your shoulders feeling lighter.

Maybe being in the spotlight was hard. Maybe the scrutiny wouldn’t go away.

But as long as you had him, you knew you'd be okay.

[bee-calm]

tbhk but they're lab-based phd students- because sometimes you just need to make the most self-indulgent au you can think of

nene

marine microbiology

talks to her culture plates, swears it makes them grow faster

tries to put cute labels on her samples then can’t remember what ANY of her shorthand means the next day

forgets her pass and gets locked out at least once a day 

algae clip-art in all of her presentations

sings in the microscope room, thinks nobody can hear her singing in the microscope room

once thought she’d re-written scientific dogma then realised she’d put a decimal point in the wrong place

thinks transcriptomics is witchcraft. is currently doing transcriptomics.

brings chocolates for the rest of the lab, is everyone’s favourite because of it

became best friends with aoi when they somehow managed to double-book the flow cytometer

could read those papers she’s been saving for weeks, OR she could spend two hours changing the colour scheme on her figures 

amane

materials chemistry, probably something space-exploration-aligned

pure synthesis, if it’s bigger than a kilodalton then he doesn’t want it anywhere near him

if there is an unlabelled round-bottom flask in the lab freezer then there’s a 90% chance it belongs to him. claims he can tell the chemicals apart by Vibes alone (amane voice: nmr is for Weaklings)

worlds messiest fume hood, yet somehow the worlds most immaculate desk-space. (currently the biggest scientific mystery the rest of the lab is working towards) 

will tell people (read: kou) that biochem isn’t real chemistry just to cause problems 

really good at teaching project students

also really good at scaring the project students by pretending to drink the toxic chemicals

extensive lanyard pin collection 

nobody has ever actually seen him go home

has a set of glassware-themed coffee mugs. much debate as to whether or not he just stole them from the lab.

kou

structural biology

just a guy and his 10 litre E.coli grow-up

once spilled an vat of LB all over the bacteria room. legend has it the stains are still there to this day

banned teru from the cryoEM room after he walked in and the entire setup almost crashed 

likes modelling structures, wonders why his computer is always running so slowly, fails to consider that the 5 pymol projects he has open at all times may have something to do with it

serial offender for walking home still wearing his goggles

thinks mammalian cell work is witchcraft 

incredibly chaotic labwork processes, still somehow gets the results anyway. most common saying: ‘this is not going in the methods section’

once dropped his earring into the liquid nitrogen tank, has still not lived it down 

has a framed photo of his first crystal on his desk

ongoing war with mitsuba over whether electron microscopy is real microscopy or not

keeps taking on side projects for other people, has yet to realise that this may be the reason he never gets to go home on time

teru

molecular biology

theory x1000, ask him a question after his presentation and there’s a 90% chance he’s got a bonus slide already prepared to answer it

benchwork also x1000, that person who asks ‘oh can i try?’ and gets amazing results first time on the experiment you’ve been trying to get right for weeks.

cell culture x0, banned from the tissue culture room, WILL contaminate any flask put within 5 feet of him

the machines hate him. the centrifuge keeps trying to eat his samples. the plate reader breaks on him at least once a week.

serial weekender

stickler for lab safety, can and will send out threatening emails reminding people to wear their gloves and lab coats

once drew the entire signalling cascade for his target molecule from memory on the whiteboard in a lab meeting and it was impressive enough that nobody has wiped it off yet 

keeps doing horrendous timecourses, can be found taking plate readings at stupid o clock in the morning 

aoi

immunology 

the flow panels she manages to pull off are a constant subject of awe and horror 

likes working weekends because it means nobody can hear her verbally threatening her cell cultures when they’re not behaving

can fit a scary amount of information onto the lid of an eppendorf tube

when stressed can be found hiding out in the plant biology greenhouses. has made friends with some genetically modified tomatoes

rocks up to the lab meeting with publication-ready figures for an experiment she did yesterday

the source of 90% of the passive aggressive post-it notes around the lab

everyone dreads her post-presentation questions. will dissect your experiments and do it with a smile.

started off working normal hours but has gradually become borderline nocturnal over time

teru contaminated her cells once, has been using it as leverage to make him collect things from stores for her ever since

keeps giving akane’s email to sales reps instead of her own so she can get free stuff without ever being contacted by them again

akane

biophysics 

scary single molecule data, deliberately puts huge equations on his presentations so nobody will ask him questions

might as well get paid lab tech wages too, chronically stuck on stock solution duty

crashed the lab computer trying to run one of his datasets on it

the only reason the lab has a booking system for the equipment. anarchy would prevail if he wasn’t around.

will go off to do photobleaching experiments and emerge hours later looking like a cave creature

keeps having to fix the equipment that teru breaks

perpetually receiving emails meant for aoi by people who got their names mixed up

also perpetually receiving emails from the company sales reps who aoi told his email to so she wouldn’t have to deal with them

says he needs to stop working weekends, then suddenly it’s saturday and he’s stuck in the microscope room with teru again

has somehow acquired a small army of project students (none of them are studying the same thing as him)

incubation time= coffee time

mitsuba

cell biology

made a cell line, treats it like it’s his baby

trust issues, won’t let ANYONE share his reagents. serial pipette hoarder.

neat lab book, can still somehow never find where he put his protocols or what concentrations he used his antibodies at

could probably win an award for his immunofluorescence images, someone automatically turns the lights off when it’s his turn to present in lab meetings bc he’s guaranteed to have cool microscopy to show

thinks bacteria work is disgusting. ensures kou knows this.

[emerging from a 5-hour session in the microscope room] what day is it?????

loves his work, doesn’t act like it (the reagents smell bad. the lab benches are dirty. people keep using the milk he brought to put in the fridge. nobody cleans the water bath. if there’s nothing to complain about, he’ll make something.)

threatens to move to industry at least once a day 

outright refuses to do weekends

found the perfect colour scheme for his graphs, considers this the highlight of his entire degree

any minor inconvenience is an excuse to go to the cafe on campus

natsuhiko

innate immunity, infection

zebrafish models

nobody is sure if he bought a tie-dye lab coat or if it’s just that badly stained

has absolutely named his fish (doesn’t actually remember which is which, but the sentiment is there)

forever followed by a gaggle of project students. is constantly reminding them to do as he says, not as he does 

incubation times are a suggestion, not a rule (read: keeps getting distracted and leaving his experiments way longer than necessary)

convinced he’s going to be patient zero of the zombie apocalypse when he accidentally creates super-salmonella and infects himself 

serial distractor, WILL chat to people while they’re in the middle of a 96-well plate

isn’t going to eat the LB agar, but the temptation is always there

someone bought him the ‘women want me, fish fear me’ hat for his birthday, keeps it on his desk

the confocal microscope hates to see him coming (5 hours is a short session when you’re trying to take z-stacks of an entire fish)

sakura 

drug discovery 

probably dabbles in synthesis, plays orchestral music while running columns bc apparently it gives them better separation 

tea drawer in the office, WILL pull out an entire teapot during their incubation times 

best dressed person in the lab, at all times

eternal struggle of dangly earrings versus the samples they’re leaning over

neat handwriting, still terrible at labelling eppendorfs (what are the lids so small for)

incubation times to the second

runs BIG experiments, has mastered the art of the plate plan. made a template which has somehow ended up distributed around the entire department 

ceo of not replying to sales rep emails 

mildly allergic to the nitrile gloves, the drawer below the tea drawer is the hand cream drawer

earphones + cell culture is the ideal de-stress activity

over-prepares for presentations, will spend 2 weeks rehearsing an informal flash talk

probably the only person who actually sends their lab coat to get washed

mei

tissue engineering 

has designed all of her labmates a mug with terrible research-relevant science puns on them 

invented side-projects, has probably got a collaboration ongoing with every other lab in the department 

bought a label printer for her reagents, has way too much fun with it

thought a week-long experiment was bad? try two months

life goal is to get to try making DNA origami just to say she did it

keeps starting doodle chains on the lab whiteboard

experiment worked= sweet treat to celebrate

experiment failed= sweet treat to commiserate 

probably did a masters in the microbiology department, they keep trying to convince her to switch projects back to them bc her streak plating was gallery-worthy

picks up her lab coat and 10 pens fall out of the pockets

sold her soul to parafilm

tsukasa

RNA therapeutics

goes in cell culture with no gloves, still somehow doesn’t get contamination 

that one insane person who actually enjoys the stress of working with RNA

doesn’t even do SDS-PAGE but still has coomassie stain all over his lab coat 

keeps launching dry ice rockets 

homebrewed a microfluidics system in the lab, it makes weird noises at night and everyone is slightly terrified of it

keeps materialising in the corner of the microscope room when mitsuba is in the middle of taking images. the cause of many a dropped slide.

plots his data in excel

worlds worst file names. no system, no dates, just a keyboard smash and a prayer

who needs desk space when you can just move your laptop into the lab

gave into temptation and tasted the cell culture media once. it was disappointing 

either the most incoherent presentation you’ve ever seen, or a major scientific breakthrough, no inbetween 

[bleucaesura]

Thanks @blitzwhore 😻

Favourites 🤔 That’s difficult as I generally enjoy all kinds of ‘relationships’ but lemme give it a go:

1) STOLITZ

I’m fucking RABID for this shit. Like FERAL… They consume me. Om nom nom nom nom

2) Asuna & Kirito

They are adorable. And probably the first couple I ever got the fee-fees for 🥹 so sweet

3) Mariner & Boimler

Purely Platonic! Their chemistry as friends is amazing. Their emotional connection is a balm for the soul. I love them your honour.

Honourable mentions:

- Loki & M (& OB) great stuff. Top notch shenanigans. Better halves (& OB)

- Sam & Dean (& Castiel & Crowley) family. Real and Found. Loving each other for who they are and always giving of themselves for each other. Totally toxic 😅 they need therapy. But I love them.

- Crowley & Aziraphaele (what’s with Crowley and his angels? 😂) get your shit together boys. I still love you though.

And I choose YOU @youandwhoseamy !😘 *tosses pokéball*

Anyone else I could think to tag has already been tagged 🤣

*womp womp* I have few friends 😅

in the spirit of valentine's day, reblog with your top 3 ships platonic or romantic any fandom and tag your friends!!

starting it with some np tags @pandasroses @siriusblack-the-third @siriusblackdevotee @airened @louisthiccsexyglitteryass @gods-favorite-cl0wnboy @warblogs17282 @mrstellmeafuckingsecret @visenyav @mmadwhy @stupendousfancypants @your-favourite-yapper + open tags for anyone who wants

top 3 rn !!! timebomb mizisua hyuluka <3

my wives right there yall

[ingravinoveritas]

Lovely new article about Michael in Paste magazine. Article is behind a paywall, so here is a transcription (with thanks to the person on FB who transcribed it, and the parts in bold are my own emphasis).

There’s so much to love about Prime Video’s Good Omens. A delightful adaptation of the popular Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett novel of the same name, the series is romantic, thoughtful, hilarious, and heartfelt by turns. The story of the almost-apocalypse and what comes afterward, it wrestles with big concepts like destiny, free will, and forgiveness, all framed through the lens of an unorthodox relationship between an angel and a demon whose love for one another is a key to saving the world.

As anyone who has watched Good Omens already knows, nothing about this series works without the pair of lead performances at its center. Stars David Tennant and Michael Sheen—who play the demon Crowley and the angel Aziraphale, respectively—have the kind of lighting-in-a-bottle chemistry that’s the stuff of legend, and their characters’ every interaction conveys both their deep affection for one another and the Earth they’ve made their home. Their romance is the emotional linchpin around which most of the series turns, and their heartbreaking separation in the Season 2 finale is so devastating precisely because we’ve seen how necessary the two are to each other’s lives.

But it’s Sheen’s performance in that final scene that really twists the knife. As Aziraphale’s face crumples following his and Crowley’s long-awaited kiss, the actor manages to convey what feels like every possible human emotion in the span of less than thirty seconds as the angel realizes what he has both had and just lost. The moment is emotionally brutal to watch, particularly after sitting through five and a half episodes of Aziraphale looking as lovestruck as the lead in any rom-com. Sheen makes it all look effortless, shifting from giddy joy to devastated longing and everything in between, and we really don’t talk enough about how powerful and underrated his work in this series truly is.

Though he’s half of the central duo that makes Good Omens tick, Sheen’s role often tends to get overshadowed by his co-star’s. It’s not difficult to see why, given that Tennant gets to spend most of the show swanning around in tight trousers looking like the Platonic ideal of the charming bad boy, complete with flaming red hair and dramatic eyewear. Tennant also benefits from Crowley’s much more sympathetic emotional arc. I mean, it’s hard not to love a cynical demon with a heart of gold who’s been pining after his angelic best friend for literal millennia even after being cast out from Heaven. Of course, viewers are drawn to that—likely a lot more easily than the story of an angel who’s simply trying the best he can to do the right thing as he wrestles with his role in God’s Ineffable Plan. Plus, let’s be real, Tennant’s sizeable Doctor Who fanbase certainly doesn’t hurt his character’s popularity.

As a performer, Sheen has a long history of playing both real people (Tony Blair, David Frost, Brian Clough) and offbeat villains (Prodigal Son’s Martin Whitly, Underworld’s Lucian, the Twilight Saga’s Aro). In some ways, the role of a fussy, bookish angel is playing more than a bit against type for him—Gaiman himself has said he originally intended for Sheen to be Crowley—but in his capable hands, Aziraphale becomes something much more than a simple avatar for the forces of Good (or even of God, for that matter). With a soft demeanor and a positively blinding smile, Sheen’s take on the character consistently radiates warmth and goodness, even as it contains surprisingly hidden depths. The former guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden who gifted a fleeing Adam and Eve his flaming sword and befriended the Serpent who caused their Fall, Azirphale isn’t a particularly conventional angel. He enjoys all-too-human indulgences like food and wine, runs a Hoarders-esque bookshop that never seems to sell anything, and spends most of his time making heart eyes at the being that’s meant to be his hereditary adversary.

Given the much more difficult task of playing the literal angel to Tennant’s charming devil, Sheen must find a way to make ideas like goodness and forgiveness as interesting and fun to watch as their darker counterparts. It’s a generally thankless task, but one that Sheen tackles with gusto, particularly in the series’ second season, as Good Omens explores Aziraphale’s slowly evolving idea of what he can and cannot accept in terms of being a soldier of Heaven. His growing understanding that the truth of creation is colored in shades of grey and compromise is often conveyed through little more than Sheen’s deftly shifting expressions and body language.

Our pop culture consistently struggles to portray the idea of goodness as something compelling or worth watching. Explicitly “good” characters, particularly those who are religiously coded, are frequently treated as the butt of some sort of unspoken joke they aren’t in on, used to underline the idea that faith is a form of naivety or that kindness is somehow a weakness. For a lot of people, the entire concept of turning the other cheek is a sucker’s bet, and believing in something greater than oneself, be it a higher power or a sense of purpose, is a waste of time. But Good Omens is a story grounded in the idea that faith, hope, and love—for one another, God, and the entire world—are active verbs. And nowhere is that more apparent than in Sheen’s characterization of the soft angel whose old-fashioned waistcoats mask a spine of steel and who refuses to give up—on Crowley, on humanity, or on the idea that Heaven is still something that can be saved.

Though he and Tennant have pretty much become a matched set at this point (both on and off-screen), Sheen’s performance has rarely gotten the critical accolades it deserves. (Tennant alone was nominated for a BAFTA for Season 2, and Sheen was categorized as a supporting actor when the series’ competed in the 2019 Saturn Awards.) But it is his quiet strength that holds up so much of the rest of the show around him, and Sheen deserves to be more frequently recognized for it. That he makes it look so easy is just another sign of how good his performance really is.

I love this so much. The thoroughly well-deserved praise for Michael's incredible performance as Aziraphale, but also that Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship is specifically described as a "romance." And of course, the first sentence of the last paragraph that acknowledges how much Michael and David are indeed a "matched set" that cannot (and should not) be separated...

[khaoala]

❝Are we supposed to do this for the rest of our lives?❞

JOONG ARCHEN as FADEL and KHAOTUNG THANAWAT as BISON episode 3 of THE HEART KILLERS

[starrrbakerrr]

Peeta has said many charming things, but this line always has me giggling and kicking my feet. I don’t understand how Katniss was so strong.

Suzanne really decided to create the perfect man: he can bake and paint, he’s charming but not cocky, and is really kind and caring only to then strip and distort his entire personality, thanks suzanne.

I kinda hate how they changed this in the movie. Even in the paragraphs before this they had this flirty banter that was so so good. The movies erased or changed nearly all of their banter though.

But, anyway - Peeta Mellark is the blueprint that no other book boyfriend has lived up to.

[tuttle-did-it]

I’m rewatching DS9 with the Delta Flyers rewatch, and I think Keiko/Miles had an amazing relationship. I love that there are times when they can't stand to be away from each other, and that there are times when they aren't even sure if they want to be in the same room with each other. I love them. I don't think they're as stereotypical as you might be remembering-- there were some subtleties and nuances beyond the stereotypes of being in a cis-het relationship— or any relationship for that matter.

The only episode I have really actively disliked with Keiko and Miles was the TNG episode where Keiko is turned into an 12 year old. The actress they had for young Keiko was not very good, and Colm seemed to be questioning his life choices as he's having to argue with a 12 year old girl playing his wife. It was an uncomfortable plot line (I get that’s the point, but maybe a little too uncomfortable). I thought her character was written terribly, the episode was absurd, and would have MUCH preferred they had used that time with Rosalind to write a much better story for her.

I have always loved Rosalind. She is an amazing actor, she is absolutely gorgeous, she has wonderful chemistry with Colm, and she just seems like a really fabulous person. Armin can't say enough praise when he talks about her as a guest star. I have NEVER understood why people say there was a problem with Keiko because I've never known anyone who said that. Everyone I've known feels the same way about her. I'm going to guess that it was primarily men who were offended at seeing a blond woman who wasn't a 28 year old with big tits bouncing around.

Chakotay…. you know what? I will be honest. I never liked his character, even before I found out Beltran was a pile of shit. to my knowledge, Beltran has never claimed to be Native American. As I understand it, he does have some ancestry for Native America but does not identify that way, I think he's primarily known as a Mexican American actor. In fact, I remember articles complaining when Voyager first came out from Native Americans and First Nations people pointing out that there were a lot of Native actors who would have been perfect for the role, there were a lot of Native consultants who would have helped them not write shit (they hired a hack -- apparently knowing he was a hack???-- white dude who was an ʇɹǝdxǝ on Native cultures. Who knew nothing about Native cultures and made out all the fuck up. (Fact check me on all of this, friend it's very late/early and I have had a pain flare-up for 4 weeks that is dulling my bloody brain).

Even without knowing Beltran was a piece of shit, I have never liked his character. I also never liked Reg Barclay, and I liked the character of Torres but didn't always love Roxanne's performance of her. hmmm what do they all have in common…. ahem. Could it be a red hat with 4 letters words on it? Why yes. Yes it could. (More on Torres later)

I love Prodigy. I do. I think it's a brilliant show and I think they actually do some very clever stuff with anti-nostalgia when the rest of the entire fucking franchise is nothing but nostalgia (Strange New Worlds, Lower Decks, Picard in particular). I strongly wish they had not brought Beltran back in, and kept with the anti-nostalgia stuff they were playing with. The kids' storylines were all fantastic. In my opinion, it was the best New Trek show out there. The writers clearly knew and understood the two different people Janeway could be, they gave story arcs to every character, they managed to make the Borg scary again (well done there). It was just a good show. But it was harmed with the Chakotay sideplots that never needed to happen.

The writers were clearly Chakotay/Janeway shippers, which… no. I would have loved if the story was… anyone else. I mean, maybe not Kim, but yeah, pretty much anyone else. I think the show would have been far stronger if they had kept with the anti-nostalgia here, and they did not need a forced relationship that never should have happened. I’d have much preferred if Janeway had a completely asexual reason for going back to the Delta quadrant— preferably one that involved something she fucked up 30 years ago.

Torres…. you know, I am going to disagree with you a bit here. Am I angry that they made the Latina woman angry and out of control? Yes. Does it drive me absolutely insane that Torres-- the only main character woman of colour on Trek since Uhura-- is constantly being told to control herself? Abso-fucking-lutely. (and don't think I'm not still raging that they were STILL FUCKING DOING THIS 30 FUCKING YEARS LATER WITH RAFFI BECAUSE FUCK YOU STAR TREK)

However. I would argue that Torres might be one of the women on Trek who has had the MOST character development.

Everyone credits Janeway as the first woman captain as a main character. YAY! great. Women in stem. We love it. So why aren't we acknowledging the first woman engineer? These two women run the fucking ship. They are allowed to be leaders, and for the most part, the men who work for them adapt to this pretty quickly and don’t really cause problems because ewww my boss is a woman! Ugh! No, just she is my boss, she knows what the fuck she’s doing, I will do my job.

I also kind of loved when Janeway is like, how long will this take? and Torres says x hours. Janeway says fine, I want this done in (less than) x hours. Torres fights back saying No, I said it takes x time. I don’t exaggerate. I said what I said. I just liked their relationship— she was allowed to push back, and Janeway seemed to value that in her (most of the time. Not at first. But eventually).

I think they were best with Torres when she was dealing with her struggles of identity. I have never liked the Klingons, I will be honest. I hate Klingons. I hate Worf. I don’t like the Klingon culture, and I think most of the time they’re just an excuse to show how “civilised” the Federation and Starfleet are. It bothers me how the original series mainly used them in Blackface, and I’ve noticed an annoying trend in science fiction to often put the person of colour in alien makeup, often monstrous or villainous. It can feel quite racist to me, as the original series mail had Klingons basically in Blackface, and are often in sci-fi to show monstrous characters to show how evolved and superior the white characters are.

I generally am very very bored of Klingons. Torres may be the only one I’ve ever liked. No… wait. Oh! Suzi Plakson.. Key… K’Elar? Something like that. K’Ehleyr. (Thanks internet). She was amazing, and very much like Torres in that she was half human, half Klingon, and kinda hated Klingons. Loved that. She was sort of the template for Torres, now that I think about that. She was an excellent character. They shouldn’t have killed her off.

Anyway. Torres. I kind of loved that Torres was a Klingon who Didn't Get Why Anyone Would Want to Be A Klingon. She hated every element of being a Klingon. Some of it was just ‘I don’t get these idiots, all they do is fight and yell and I just want to sit and read a book in the bath, go away.’

Some of her rejection was down to previous traumas as a kid, which I liked that they went into. That people have rejected her because of the way she looks. And she can’t just make it go away. And self-loathing- how how hard she pushed that Klingon identity away, even though visually, that's the first thing anyone would notice about her. And the first thing she sees in the mirror.

Hating and loving her mother enough to be willing to go to "hell" to save her. To go through all the Klingon crap that she hated for someone she loved because deep down, some part of her did still value that Klingon crap because she valued her mother.

She also had an excellent storyline about the trauma of being part of two very different cultures-- but also, her terror at passing this trauma as generational trauma onto her child. To the point she's willing to try to change her child's DNA so she can ~pass~ for the preferred culture. Whatever my feelings on Roxanne, that episode was absolutely incredible-- and from what Robbie says, Roxanne came to the writers with her script covered in notes for them from her own experiences. It was one of VOY’s stronger episodes.

They allowed two women (Janeway and Torres) to have quite severe depression and mental health issues, which frankly I think was a rather brave of them considering this is 1998 Star Trek— and that these women were the ones in charge, but no one used that as an excuse to replace them with men. Janeway’s depression was a self-loathing and guilt, sitting in her quarters and refusing to come out. (And occasionally trying to blow up the ship…….). Torres’ depression also turns inward, but to the point where she is engaging in self-harm— and could have very well killed herself multiple times. And I believe it was made quite clear that Torres’ depression regarding her heritage certainly went back to childhood, as did Janeway’s depression issues. Were these issues resolved too quickly? Yes. But I think it was a HUGE thing that they allowed the two most powerful women on the ship just fucking Not Be Okay.

Also, whilst I don’t love cis-het relationships in general, I didn’t hate Torres and Paris. I appreciated that they took the time for them to both grow up a little bit before bringing them together. I appreciated that they did become friends before it turned into something more. Not my favourite paring by a mile, but I think they did some nuanced stuff with them— the episodes where he’s asleep in front of the tv was maybe too silly, but as a couple they were inoffensive most of the time.

I thought it was an interesting choice to make Paris more interested in honouring her Klingon heritage in multiple episodes, and having her pushing back— no, I don’t care about this shit, leave me alone!

In Lineage (possibly Torres’ strongest episodes), when she is trying to change her child’s DNA, I liked the way Paris pushed back and had to really fight to get it into her head that he was not like her father, and that he loved the part of herself that she hated so much. These multiple episodes regarding her mixed heritage— and trying to learn how to love what she saw in the mirror even though it was a representation of everything she rejected— that mattered. That spoke to a lot of marginalised people who are two things, and thus feel like nothing. Who wish they could pass for this but they can’t because of that. That episode mattered.

Women on Trek were not treated well by the writers. Full stop. Torres was not treated well. Listen, I love Gates— Gates was the only reason I ever even stayed with TNG. She was the only one who seemed to have a personality on the show, to me. The only one I vaguely cared about— and on paper, she was nothing. But Gates managed to infuse her with much more.

And then Michelle Forbes came along and — oooh, yes, I’ll stay for her, too. This one is interesting! I like her. But I think Gates would have killed for her character to have that much development. I believe Denise and Michelle Forbes would have stayed if their character had half as much development as Torres.

Nichelle desperately wanted to leave— and stayed because Martin Luther King begged her to.

Terry did get quite a few cool episodes, but only one or two delved into her deep traumas, things that broke her. Because Jadzia had 7 lifetimes— she’s worked a lot of her shit out by now. We had a few. Maybe if Terry had been given just a few more episodes of substance, she wouldn’t have burnt out as easily. (And maybe if Rick Berman hadn’t treated her like shit, too). But I'm a big defender of Jadzia because as a trans kid, she was the first positive version of queerness I saw. She was allowed to be both a woman and a man, and her sexuality was obviously open. That meant a lot to me as a kid.

And I do feel that Nana was burnt out by S7 as well. They stopped giving her interesting stories, put her in heels and said hey go stand there and snog Odo. That was an irritation for me.

And Marina? Christ. Troi didn’t have a personality —aside from hating her mother, liking chocolate and saying ‘captain he’s very angry’ when there’s an alien SCREAMING on the view screen. Marina would probably have biten off her own arm if she could do anything more than sit there saying ‘and how does that make you feel?’ Troi didn’t become remotely interesting until like S6 or something.

And I adore Jeri, but the Borg Barbie thing really did get old for me. If they had just let her fucking wear clothes instead of looking like it was painted on, that would have gone a long way. But even she had more story than many of the other women in Trek. And don’t get me started on how much I was screaming on Picard when Seven spends the entire last year sitting in silence whilst the white men talk about how hard their lives are, and putting up with another stupid white man constantly dead-naming her. And she’s apparently not allowed to be with her lover because Raffi needs a man has to “teach” her how to control her emotions. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. No— we’re not getting into that. We are not getting into that cos this is already WAYYYY too long and it is 0320 and I should have been in bed at least an hour ago. We are not getting int— christ I hate Picard. FUCK YOU STAR TREK.

Ahem. Sorry. So. I think we can all agree that women on Trek, there was a very low bar for character development. And by bar, I mean a toothpick on the ground. But a few of the women did manage to shove that toothpick a little higher. Women in Trek have not been treated well. But I admire every one of the women in these shows for doing the most they could with what little they had.

But when I really sit back and think about character development for women in Trek, I’d say that Torres is certainly one of the ones who was allowed to do a lot more than most. I think she was allowed to be a lot more complex than people realise. Torres, Kira, Jadzia and Seven were probably the women who were allowed to have the must substantial stories— even more so than Janeway, sometimes.

Pretty sure nearly all of the women in the entire Trek franchise would beg for as much development as Torres got. Was it enough? No. Was it more than most of the women in the franchise got? yeah.

Miss Piggy has better storylines than so many of the women in these shows. (well. Torres, Kira, Jadzia and Seven did okay. But all of the women deserved better)

(and to be fair-- even with now cheated these women all were for incredible storylines, they still matter to a lot of people. Nana recently published a book on Trek women and how fans have spoken to her about how much they mattered and how they changed the lives of fans everywhere. And I think that's incredible. That these actors could bring so much more than what was on the page to still reach people -- despite how 2-D they were written.)

Does anyone remember that episode of Star Trek: Voyager where Tom Paris commits a traffic violation in alien space and he has to go to alien remedial driving school? I have no idea which episode it was, but it's such a great concept. There are so many episodes about high-stakes encounters with crazy alien legal systems where death is on the line, but I wanna see more alien planets with very mundane legal systems. I wanna see an episode where there's a big dramatic trial, and our heroes lose, but then find out that they have misunderstood what was going on and will simply have to do community service for a week or something.

[ingravinoveritas]

I know we've all seen and discussed The Kiss so many times by now, but it's nearly the one-year anniversary of GO 2 and ever since I saw this slow motion gif and this clip, it's felt like watching it all over again with fresh eyes.

Everything about this is so breathtaking on so many levels. The way Michael's eyebrows raise, the way he seems to almost lift himself into the kiss, like he was physically bringing himself closer to David's/Crowley's lips, and how they very nearly melt into each other even as they're trying not to. You can almost see their hearts leaping close together, as if something powerful is happening as much within them as without.

It reminds me of episode one and the angel-that-would-be-Crowley snapping his fingers and saying "Let there be light." Four little words, one simple gesture, and a whole universe that wasn't there before exploded into being. Sparks flying, in more ways than one...

And I love it. I love that this kiss is so incredible that we are still talking about it one year later, and that it will forever be one of the most gorgeously searing kisses ever committed to film. I love that we have this kiss specifically because it was Michael and David in these roles, and the once-in-a-lifetime chemistry between them.

There are film kisses, and then there are film kisses, and almost nothing I have ever seen on screen comes close to this, or ever will. I am so, so grateful to Michael and David for giving this to us, and to each other...

[sketchy-tour]

✨DANDY COMMISSION APPRECIATION POST✨

Of course, being commissions I bought, none of these lovely beautiful pieces are by me. Credits (in order) @frillsand @weevmo @lanlishiba @parrotparfait @kandavers

I am!! GONNA attempt to gush about all these pieces without devolving into keysmashes or screams but like. A. AA. AAA. I was gonna say "yall have no idea how annoying I am about Dandy" but honestly you do. You all do because I shake my silly puppet oc around CONSTANTLY.

ANYWAY I JUST!!! AUGH! ALL OF THEM MAKE ME SO HAPPY!!! The fact I get to see Dandy in art styles I love and adore around the fandom fills me with a joy I cannot even DESCRIBE to you!! OOH I JUST!!! I love them. I love these pieces. I stare at them all the time and now I'm rattling them all around at you guys!!!!! LOOK!!! LOOK AT THESE LOVELY LOVELY PIECES RN AND CHECK OUT THE ARTISTS!!!!!

[norringtondeservestheworld]

I CRY

[ingravinoveritas]

I could not agree more with all of the above. One thing I keep thinking of is how Michael was saying years ago that the lines between the character and real life were blurry for him, and when GO 2 came out last year, he was saying that is even more so the case now than before. To wit, this quote from SFX magazine last year:

“Everything that has happened in-between plays into coming back to these characters. I am sure it is all feeding into it.”

It really seems like the relationship between Michael and David has and did inform the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley in season 1, and was doubly true for season 2, and in the case of both seasons, their chemistry made the show what it was. Michael and David themselves have made it clear that what we saw on screen wasn't just the characters, and that none of what we saw would've been the way it was if they weren't playing these roles together.

I also can't help thinking of the comments from DP Gavin Finney, who talked about setting up the shot for the kiss in S2. How no one wanted to interfere with what Michael and David were doing and the depth of the performance they were giving, which Gavin summarized so beautifully by saying, "They're so strong and so real and true."

It's not just that Michael and David were so perfectly cast in the roles of Aziraphale and Crowley. It's that they were perfectly cast opposite each other, to give each other what they needed to make their performances resonate the way they did, to where we are still talking about them five years later. I can only imagine how much more we'll have to talk about when season 3 comes out...

BBC: How have you found it collaborating with David and Michael?

Jack Whitehall (Newton Pulsifer): They’re both incredible. They’re such good actors, you could see them in either role. But this is perfect casting. Even at the read through, they were both already singing. The heart of what will make this work is their dynamic. That is the core of this piece.

(https://www.bbc.co.uk/mediacentre/mediapacks/good-omens/whitehall)

I totally agree. GO is the result of incredible teamwork: exceptional cast, incredible crew, tailors, designers, make-up artists, graphic designers, producers, authors, musicians, directors, technicians... the list would be endless. Everyone contributed to making it a masterpiece.

BUT without Michael and David and their chemistry, Good Omens wouldn't have been perfect

[royalarchivist]

Quackity: Someone who I really wish would play a little more is– I'm going to say it: it's Luzu. Because Luzu – I was in a past server with Luzu called Karmaland, which Vegetta owns – and we did some crazy ass stories. [...] I would definitely love to do more stuff with Luzu, you know? [...] His thing is the time zones, though. Which makes sense, 'cuz he's like 60.

Foolish: Is he more of an early bird?

Quackity: No, he's like 60. He's 60. He sleeps early, wakes up early. That kind of like, BS. He's like, "Oh, I have a kid to take care of." It's like, "So?"

Foolish: Tell the kid to grow up!

Quackity: That's like a hobby. [Laughs] That's like a hobby, bro, that's like fcking–

Foolish: Just kick the kid out.

Quackity: Hey, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. If you told Ollie [Luzu's son] to fcking– to just grow up, he would.

[ Full transcript ↓ ]

Quackity: Someone who I really wish would play a little more is– I'm going to say it: it's Luzu. Because Luzu – I was in a past server with Luzu called Karmaland, which Vegetta owns – and we did some crazy ass stories because– Ok, so the thing with Karmaland and the problem with Karmaland was that every.

Foolish: The problem with Karmaland!

Quackity: –was that everyone were Spaniards. Everyone was Spaniards. Everyone from Spain, they all had Spain timezone.

Foolish: And that's a problem

Quackity: So I would always start streaming at, like, 5 pm, and all the people from Spain would be asleep. Everyone from Spain would be asleep. So, it was just me doing content, and occasionally, it'd be with Luzu, and I miss that a lot. You know, Luzu– the reason he doesn't play on QSMP as much is because of timezone, so that is literal fcking revenge. That is revenge because Luzu had a fun time being Spaniard and making sure that when I connected late times in Karmaland, there would be no one! Well, guess now– guess what now, Luzu? You wake up at fcking six in the morning– [in a sad crying voice] –and if you ever want to come back, I'll fcking log in for you. No, I'm kidding. But I think- I think– no, I would definitely love to do more stuff with Luzu, you know?

Foolish: Yeah.

Tina: I wanna meet him.

Quackity: His thing is the time zones, though. Which makes sense, 'cuz he's like 60.

Foolish: Is he more of an early bird?

Quackity: No, he's like 60. He's 60. He sleeps early, wakes up early. That kind of like, bullsht. He's like, "Oh, I have a kid to take care of." It's like, "So?"

Foolish: Tell the kid to grow up!

Quackity: That's like a hobby. [Laughs] That's like a hobby, bro, that's like fcking–

Foolish: Just kick the kid out.

Quackity: Hey, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. If you told Ollie [Luzu's son] to fcking– to just grow up, he would.

Foolish: Yeah, absolutely.

Quackity: That's a horrible question. That really hurt my feelings. OK, Foolish: you have to ask a question now.