#trekmemes

[boldlygoband]

Name this Metal Band. 🤘🖖 . . . #startrek #startrekmemes #startrekmeme #namethisband #heavymetal #metal #trekkie #trekkies #trekker #trekkers #captainpicard #picard #captainpicardmeme #picardmeme #trekmemes #memes #80smemes #80smetal #boldlygo #boldlygoband #punkrock #startrekpunkrock https://www.instagram.com/p/CT6IS1vsXGW/?utm_medium=tumblr

[leonardcohenofficial]

I was going to send you an ask about ethical maximalism and that post reminded me! I think about the ways I can reclaim what I value, like time and creativity, by repurposing abandoned things into clutter that feels like an explosion of selfhood. Choosing not to just buy premade things feels countercultural, when it would have been the norm. Also the imperfect aesthetic, handcraftedness which I think is a reaction against ‘expertise’ or the authoritarian, ‘optimized’ way we are supposed to live.

yes!!!!!!! everything about this speaks to a direct resistance to consumer capitalism......supporting and celebrating the labour of creation (and the creations themselves, especially objects that would be considered “trash” that are repurposed and reused/given new life) that doesn’t endlessly feed back into white capitalist structures.........plus you make your personal space look curated and generally awesome.........

[plaidshirtjimkirk]

you are the third official Google result for the names ‘Isami Toshi’ from a former search engine optimization grunt, I tip my hat to you

hNDGLKSDGJHLFHGJSD

PROOF THAT ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE!!!!!!! .........when you’re like shipping a rarepair in a desert but oh my goD they are SO GOOD. if you’re bored in quarantine, watch the shinsengumi! drama and come suffer in toshisami hell with me

i know no one probably will watch it but LOOK AT THIS ANYWAY???

bro

bROOOO

dOES THIS is a stock image of a married couple arguing????

or is haiku man REALLY mad???

and there’s a super cute woman named mitsu who deserves the world

*tapdances and flails in this direction:* shinsengumi! on dramago

[zombie-snape]

cannn I get 99% immunity for crowley and/or milking it with az? i need sick fix because i'm dying irl thanks love uuuu :*)

Sorry this took so long (I’m a slow writer)! I hope this cheers you up

~

It started out as a sneeze.

“Achoo!” The powerful sneeze forced Crowley to shut his eyes and the Bentley swerved into the other lane during his momentary lapse in concentration. Miraculously, the cars in the other lanes easily avoided them.

Crowley spared a glance at Aziraphale who was giving him a very suspicious look. 

“I’m fine, angel.” He grumbled.

“Uh huh.” Aziraphale sounded unconvinced. 

~

Angels, and therefore demons, can get human illnesses. Most of them didn’t because they hardly spent enough time on Earth to contract anything. Aziraphale and Crowley had both discovered the hard way that being around a bunch of sick humans typically got them sick too. Often, their illness were shorter and less deadly than the human varieties--humans were a very delicate creature after all. Both Aziraphale and Crowley came to loathe colds and flues, despite not getting them very often, because they would be forced to mop around in their own misery until the illness went away. Aziraphale suspected that being sick might be a bit easier if there was someone there to take care of you. 

~

Aziraphale and Crowley were supposed to be enjoying their usual afternoon stroll around St. James Park but Crowley had been experiencing a coughing fit for the last few seconds.

“Come on, dear boy. Sit down,” Aziraphale carefully maneuvered Crowley onto their customary bench. 

The coughing paused for a moment and Crowley looked like he was about to wheeze something out before it picked up again. He doubled over and pressed his face into the crook of his elbow. 

“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale murmured worriedly. He couldn’t help but reach out a hand and rub it up and down Crowley’s back in an effort to soothe the poor man. Aziraphale still wasn’t sure about giving physical affection, after the Apocalypse That Wasn’t they had agreed to move their relationship into romantic territory but it was a rather new development.  

Crowley eventually calmed his coughing and Aziraphale finally removed his hand. 

“Thanks,” Crowley’s voice came out as a pathetic little rasp. 

“You should have told me you were under the weather, I would never had suggested a walk.” Aziraphale said.

“I’m not sick.” Crowley said. There was a stubborn gleam in his hazy eyes. 

“Of course not.” Aziraphale sighed.

“Just allergies.” 

Aziraphale didn’t bother to respond to that. Angels and demons might be able to get sick but they did not get allergies. 

“I think, perhaps, we should head back to the shop. I’ll make us some tea.” Aziraphale knew Crowley was far too stubborn to admit he was sick but perhaps Aziraphale could push him in the direction of taking it easy. 

“Nah, I think I’m going to head home. Water the plants, y’know?” Crowley was trying to sound casual but Aziraphale could tell he was holding back another coughing fit. 

“All right dear, drive safe.”

~

It had been a few days since their St. James stroll and Aziraphale had not heard anything from Crowley. He was starting to worry a bit. Aziraphale had picked up bits and pieces of conversations while out and about and it seemed like London was experiencing a nasty flu season. Aziraphale suspected that Crowley had been one of this season’s unfortunate victims. 

Aziraphale was currently wondering if he should go see his friend. They had never offered to help each other doing an illness before but they weren’t being watched anymore. Aziraphale wanted to be there for Crowley and ease his illness in anyway he could. He’d researched human flu remedies and had packed a little basket with some that sounded promising along with a lovely chicken noodle soup. Aziraphale finally decided that it wouldn’t hurt to just check up on Crowley and give him the basket, and if he wanted Aziraphale to stay then he would. 

~

Aziraphale knocked on Crowley’s front door and waited. There was no sound from within. However, Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s presence. Aziraphale knocked again. And again there was no answer. Aziraphale tried the door handle this time and miraculously the door swung open.

The apartment was dark and silent. Aziraphale glanced at the plants as he made his way through noticing that they were wilting ever so slightly. That wasn’t a good sign. 

Aziraphale checked the living room first and found it empty. The only other place Crowley could be was the bedroom. 

The bedroom was equally dark but not as silent. There was a distinctive lump of blankets laying in the middle of the bed that was wheezing pathetically. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice was barely above a whisper. If Crowley was sleeping, he didn’t want to wake him. Sleeping was good for illnesses. 

“Aziraphale?” Crowley’s voice was barely more than a rasp. 

“Yes, dear. It’s me.” Aziraphale set the basket down on the drawers and took a seat on the edge of the bed by the lump of blankets that Crowley’s voice had come from. “I was worried about you. I brought some chamomile and soup.”

Crowley peaked his head out from under the blankets. His hair was a mess and standing on end. He had dark circles under his eyes and his skin looked unusually pale.

“Didn’t have to,” he mumbled. His eyes were a bit glassy, Aziraphale noted. The angel placed a hand on Crowley’s forehead.

“You’re burning up!” Aziraphale said. 

“Feel like shit.” Crowley said. He nuzzled his face into Aziraphale’s hand. “Mmm, you’re warm.” 

“Would you like anything? Tea? Soup? Water?” Aziraphale asked as he stroked Crowley’s hair. 

“Cuddle.” Crowley mumbled so quietly Aziraphale wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly.

“What was that, darling?” 

“I’m cold. Cuddle me.” Crowley demanded louder this time.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but chuckle as he kicked off his shoes. “Of course.” He curled himself around Crowley and could feel him almost immediately drift off. Aziraphale would stay for as long as Crowley needed him.

~

If you have a Good Omens prompt, feel free to send it my way (but note I am a bit of a slow writer). 

Kofi

[heavyweightheart]

I was wondering if you could share your thoughts on the concept of ‘self-discipline?’ The information I found was saturated with value words, morality, ideas about abnegation and in particular diet culture. I’ve found in my own life that setting up strict rules and ‘correct behaviors’ leads to a lot of self-destructive activity. Is there a possibility for internal discipline that is life-enriching? Or is this all just more recycled classism and victim-blaming?

i’d love to give a fancy foucaultian answer to this but i’ll just tell you how i think about it (influenced to some extent by theorists but mainly by life experience).

my question with discipline is always “who does it serve?” you’re already aware that most of the areas popularly considered the purview of discipline are actually areas of intense social control and coercion–in school, at work, in health behaviors, in ideas of right citizenship, in the cishet nuclear family, in our appearances, in gendered expression, in the military, and i’d even say in elite sports or art forms. most discipline as that idea operates in our world should not be internalized. it does the opposite of serve us–it serves the state, capital, prevailing power structures at our expense.

but i also hear the other piece of your question about what might serve us! here i like to use the language of boundaries, and some of our most important boundaries are w ourselves. maybe we can think in terms of parts of self. an example might be ED recovery–there are so many instances where the recovery behavior will not feel desirable, but we need to do it anyway for our ultimate benefit. in this case we might use our recovery voice to say to our disordered voice, “I hear your fears, and i understand them. i’m going to choose to eat this meal right now, tho, and see where that leads us.” and we do that one meal at a time, and we might certainly call that a kind of self-discipline. 

i use boundaries w myself in my mindfulness practice, but they’re loose. i know meditating in some form helps me a LOT, but say my anxiety doesn’t want to stop googling my illnesses. :) so my caregiver part offers, “we could just do 5 minutes of mindfulness today, no pressure to do more.” and then i end up doing more! or some days i refuse and then i make the 5 minute offer to myself again the next day. this amounts to a fairly regular practice, doing sth that doesn’t always feel most appealing in the moment.

fortunately, discipline or boundaries are not needed around food if we relearn to eat intuitively! our body’s instincts really do run that show.

[trillscienceofficer]

trekmemes replied to your post “you know when you read something that’s not technically wrong but...”

I'll read a lot of like, queer media critique and a LOT of people have feelings about 'Rejoined'. Like it's stuck in peoples' consciousness/imagination for more than two decades, it can't be -that- easily forgotten about? (Unless they mean within the story itself. In which case I'll rebut that a lot of important/character defining moments are never overtly discussed or recognized again during the show's runtime. Primarily bc they have other stories to be telling!)

If I recall correctly I read posts claiming both things, that the story forgot that the episode ever happened (which as I said it’s technically not even true, Lenara is mentioned in “By Inferno’s Light”, a season 5 episode. It’s not a lot but it’s still something), and that people immediately forgot about it and by extension also forgot about Jadzia’s bi/pansexuality. Which is probably what happened for a big part of the audience! But as you said, that story and that episode seem to have stuck with a lot of people too: I’ve met people for whom “Rejoined” was one of the first times they were exposed to an unequivocally romantic relationship between two women, and that they’ve never forgotten about it as a result. And I’d argue that if it’s been a significant episode for so many fans (as it continues to be even now), you can’t claim that it was ‘immediately forgotten about’.

Like, the posts I was referencing weren’t even wrong because it was a single episode in a whole show, the romance was between two aliens, it didn’t end well, and Jadzia later dies. I don’t claim that it’s the ideal representation (a thing that I don’t even believe exists, to be honest). I think that it is a meaningful episode though, and it can’t be dismissed so easily.

[thatadhdmood]

oh man I feel the struggle re: hanging on to music and art as hobbies. I’ve studied both seriously at times in my life but sometimes I drop them with no warning!! I’m trying to relearn guitar and get serious enough about art to make a career out of it, but I’m constantly distracted by my other hyperfixations...

I’ve been clinging to ukulele and art to the best of my ability! 

So far my techniques are put it somewhere i can interact with it frequently, 

Ukulele is on my desk and very obnoxiously THERE, its all very easy to set up and DO, 

and i keep my sketchbook in my bag everyday and im always stocked with markers to draw with!

It’s just so annoying to loose it to other hyperfixations that ill later realise i dont like as much! 

The other technique is to relate them to my new hyperfixations to keep them relevant!!

Like ill play AJJ on my uke, or ill draw a character from that show i like

Anything to prove to my adhd that it is a worthy hobby that should stay!

[greylunar]

10 / 22 / 32 romanticized asks??

My surprised pikachu face when I logged online and saw this ask I had missed on mobile oh gosh thanks for asking friend! I apologize that I cannot turn off my pretentious writing style even for word barf asks haha.

10. Describe yourself as a storm.

“He is the kind of storm that washes away the lingering weight of yesterdays. Not a downpour, for although he loves that kind of rain, there’s always the fear that he could drown in something that heavy, that strong, that loud. He has never been a man of thunder, never had the voice for such a storm. He will never sink ships or change tides. But there are some days when you need the sky to cry for you. For it to remind you that storms are human too, and that after the clouds crumble under their weight and weep, there is a lightness to the world. A sense of shaking off the grey. Of the grass reaching back out for the sky. He is not the kind of storm you will remember. But he is the kind of storm that brings the spring home.”

22. Tell us, in detail, about a curse a witch would put on you.

“There’s a man that lives in the woods they say. They say he’s been there for years upon years upon years. Long enough for the trees to grow around him. Long enough to watch those trees die, and the forest we now know to rise from their graves. I’ve heard that he was cursed. That he owed the witch his firstborn, and refused to give up the child. They say he stood, in the place the woods would grow, and spat words of fire and blood until even the witch nearly cowered. He told her that he’d raise the gods from their slumber and die at the hand of her magic long before she’d ever take his daughter.”

“And what did she say?”

“She said nothing. Instead, she called for Time. And together, before long, they took everything.”

32. What would you end up in the dungeon for?

Going against the king’s orders for something small I thought was unjust. I would be a very bad fit for dungeon-era ruling. I would last five seconds in BBC’s Merlin.

Thank you so much for asking!!

[twinkandroid]

@trekmemes firstly sorry for the late reply jxjsjs secondly i literally couldnt tell you what about dua lipa is so great i dont personally find her music very good and since this shit with the 'homo' tshirt has happened my distaste for her has certainly grown. with billie eilish i dont know what to say either her behavior is terrible and she might only be a teenager but shes still responsible for her actions and should have known better with this song. people are willing to give celebrities so many passes when they behave shittily and i cannot understand that. all these cishets are invading lgbtq spaces and using our language and identifiers and the way we dress because they think like?? "oh we're being good allies by not killing you so therefore we should have access to everything that makes you lgbtq!!" its frustrating and tiring.

[kaelio]

@trekmemes

buddy I’m so glad I’m not the only one. I’ve been working on this in a fic for ages

I think that what really makes Star Trek a great property is that it invites people to consider the functions and cultures of a fantastical universe. And it really lets people, ummm how to explain it, explore their particular interest within this speculative world (or system of worlds)? Like, some people are really into how... big? the ships are, and how good they are at fighting each other. And that’s fine. But there are also a lot of people who wonder--how does commerce work here? How does resource allocation work here? How does arbitration work here? How does intergovernmental law work here? And it helps you learn a personalized way of approaching complex and interesting concepts, in a fun way! 

For me, thinking about “hey, how would I have made their beds be different?” is really a question of things like:

1. What’s the biology of these different alien species?

2. How do they view rest/comfort? Is it important to them? Are they decadent or austere? 

3. What resources do they have on hand? Is the availability of certain resources a limiting factor for them?

4. If resources are a limiting factor, why? Where do they get the resources? Is there a cultural or economic angle that affects what resources they can get, from whom, and where they go?

And then at the end I draw someone sleeping in a waffle full of worms. And somewhere out there, someone is like, woah, no way, the Trill would never sleep in a waffle full of worms. And that’s great--where do they think Trill sleep? Why? That conversation would be interesting; it’s not even about “Trill beds”, it’s about how people take in information and the patterns they derive from that and the resultant expectations they form.

P.S. It’s also why it makes me so sad when people are like “blah blah star trek is stupid” or “blah blah who cares what kind of tread they’d have on their boots, what are you, some kind of weirdo??” because it’s like... what’s the point of that, exactly? It just stops people from... considering stuff, being thoughtful about things? What an awful impulse, just to get people to stop thinking stuff out.

[demonicvulcan]

trekmemes replied to your post: instead of Bones obsessing over Jim’s diet because...

Jim eats nothing but a chicken sandwich and black coffee every day three times a day for five years. (Being reconstituted food it has the perfect mix of nutrients and everything you need. It’s just what he likes to eat.) Bones is like, you could eat literally any food ever programmed into the replicator, why would you do this ??

EXACTLY. plus there is the added bonus of driving McCoy insane so easily

[leonardcohenofficial]

my bloody valentine, frankenstein, suspiria (horror movie asks)

my bloody valentine: am i in a relationship/do i have a crush? neither at present!!

frankenstein: what’s my favorite website? at this point in my life probably JSTOR tbh

suspiria: what’s my favorite book? i can’t pick a specific one because i love so many but i’m currently reading there but for fortune: the life of phil ochs by michael schumacher for dissertation research and it’s fantastic!!

[plaidshirtjimkirk]

33, 9a, 3 Trek asks

33. Whose twitter feed would you most want to follow?

ALL OF THEM but i’d especially love mccoy’s. can you imagine the salt lmao

9. Which episode plot do you prefer? a.Time traveling to the past or dealing with time travelers from the future?

going to the past. this is all TVH’s fault AND time’s arrow. guinan is too beautiful

3. Top 3 least favorite characters? 

neelix, but only in the first few seasons…he really grew on me in the long run but i do notttt like his relationship with kes at all.

the “female” changeling HISS

the annoying admiral-of-the-week who’s based in SF and criticizing the captain about some nonsense they don’t even understand

thank you for asking!

[zombie-snape]

Thunderstorms are angels playing baseball

Thanks for the prompt I’m assuming this was a prompt anon! I totally had no idea what to do with this prompt at first so I shared it with my wonderful gf and writing partner @trekmemes who helped me write this crack fic! Thank you babe

~

A spotlight seemed to shine down from the ceiling, and a faint stream of silvery sparkles rained down with the accompaniment of a heavenly chorus. The glitter resolved itself as the Archangel Gabriel, who sighed and brushed silver specks off the shoulders of his jacket.

“Aziraphale, it is my—” He paused as he scanned the couple up and down. He’d obviously caught the two of them snogging. Crowley’s long hair was a mess, and Aziraphale’s white button-up shirt had been pulled halfway open.

“Hi.” Crowley met his gaze evenly.

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose like he was developing a headache. “All right. We’ll deal with that later. You remember the Armageddon thing that the pair of you mucked up?”

“Hard to forget,” Aziraphale pointed out, not bothering to get up.

“We came up with an... alternative.”

“An alternative to blowing the planet to bits?” Crowley sniffed.

“Precisely.” He shifted his shoulders like he was adjusting his wings in a power display. “It is... partially a human problem. And since we picked the Earth for the setting of our final confrontation, we decided on a human solution to our disagreements. A competition.”

“Like the Olympics?” Crowley scrunched up his nose. “I don’t much go in for wrestling, you know that.”

“I like discus!” Aziraphale said cheerfully. 

There was a crack of tectonic plates shifting, and a cloud of black locusts exploded in the flat. It carried with it a definite reek of brimstone, and the two angels began coughing.

“CROWLEY.” A voice like mud sucking the soles of one’s shoes oozed out from every direction.

“Beelzebub! Long time, no smell,” Crowley laughed.

A small humanoid figure with bright red eyes and fly’s wings stepped out of the billowing cloud. They immediately perched on top of the television set, swinging their feet and glaring at Gabriel, whose smile looked ironed flat.

“I was in the middle of informing them about the competition,” Gabriel said through gritted teeth. “I have this covered.”

Beelzebub ignored him. “Listen up, worm food,” they said, “we’re playing baseball. Heaven against Hell. Be there… or don’t.” They took in the compromising position the couple were in with a sneer.

“Oh, we’ll be there,” Crowley said with a grin. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Aziraphale agreed. 

“Good.” Beelzebub sunk back into the floor. Gabriel rubbed his forehead, took some celestial antacids, and disappeared with the crack of a thunderbolt.

--

The redheaded demon swaggered onto the field. Aziraphale’s jaw dropped open. “Good Lord, Crowley, what are you wearing?”

He was clad in pearlescent pink booty shorts and a purple tanktop with side cutouts that read, ‘If you wanted a SOFT SERVE you should have gone to DAIRY QUEEN!’

“Baseball!” He grinned and pointed at the unmistakable white-striped vinyl volleyball in the center of his shirt. “It’s my uniform.”

“Crowley, that’s not...” He trailed off, unsure of where to begin. “This is a baseball uniform.” He gestured at his own outfit, which featured blue wool knickers, white flannel shirt, flat topped cap, bow tie, a leather belt cinched at his waist, and white stockings which clung (quite fetchingly) to his calves. Crowley circled him, admiring him from all angles. “The sport’s been around for almost two hundred years. That’s plenty of time for even an immortal such as ourselves to catch on.”

Crowley shrugged. “You think I pay attention to that kind of thing? Never been my arena. Literally. Hell has never paid me to sit around on some sticky metal seats, yawning myself to death.”

“Still, dear.” Aziraphale looked unimpressed. “You might take the effort to pick up something of the culture, now and again.”

His jaw dropped open. “You’re encouraging me to try and get with the times?!”

Aziraphale sniffed a bit haughtily. “I at least bothered to research baseball before coming.”

Crowley looked him up and down. “And was that research from the 1840s?”

Aziraphale glanced down at his outfit then shot Crowley a Look. “If you must know, the modern uniforms are bit too flashy for my taste. I prefer the older ones.” He paused and eyed Crowley’s shorts appreciatively. “At least I picked the right sport.”

Crowley noticed where his eyes were drifting and shrugged, modeling a little for his datemate’s benefit. “They make my butt look good.”

~

Gabriel had managed to assemble a semi-accurate modern baseball uniform, but he had included a bicycle helmet for some reason. His whole uniform was white, except for the purple cursive “Angels” written across his chest.

Sandalphon proudly presented the ball. 

Beelzebub and Gabriel stared at it blankly.

“Sandalphon,” Gabriel began. “You are so very clever, it astonishes me sometimes.”

“Thank you,” he droned, beaming from ear to ear as Gabriel steered him away from the pitcher’s mound.

“But, Sandalphon,” he continued, “this is the wrong ball.”

Together they investigated the brown, ovoid ball with white ribbing in the center.

“It’s certainly a genuine sports ball,” Sandalphon said flatly. “I picked it up from a stadium myself.”

“I understand that, Sandalphon. But the humans have lots of sports.” He turned the football over in his hands. “So many different sports. And each one has its own ball, or equivalent. This simply won’t do, I’m afraid.”

“Oh. Okay.” He took the ball and cradled it in his arms like a baby, trundling away with his head hanging low.

Beelzebub, who was beyond irritated by this whole interaction, summoned a baseball from the particular pit of hell where they tortured out-of-shape, insecure geeks. It burst into blue flame in their hands. “Ladies, gentlemen, creatures, beings, and assorted bastards!” they shouted. “Let the games begin!”

~

Aziraphale and Crowley were now sitting in the bleachers watching the game. 

They had both been benched for the entire first four innings. Crowley wasn’t even sure why they had been invited in the first place; everyone on either team was still too frightened of them to try talking to them. Bored and lonely, Crowley had snuck out behind the Devils’ dugout to play on his phone. He was soon joined by Aziraphale, and together they’d wandered into the stands to watch the game on the huge screen (or in Aziraphale’s case, with binoculars).

Michael was fuming. “You have clearly duplicated a player in order to load the bases!” 

The Erics waved cheerily at her from the field.

“Unfair! Unfair! Reverse the call!” Dagon shouted from the bench.

“Dear, I don’t think any of them have any idea what baseball is,” Aziraphale commented. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Crowley agreed, as Hastur tried to hit the baseball with a golf club instead of a bat. He took some time to admire his angel, who was ‘oohing’ as he watched Dagon go nose-to-nose with Michael, still arguing fervently over some rule. Uriel was in the shortstop’s position. She was wearing a catcher’s mitt on each hand and laying flat on her back in the field, apparently in utter despair.

Their attention was pulled away when Hastur began shouting at Sandalphon. He started swinging his golf club at Sandalphon, while Gabriel tried to shield the other angel with his body. Beelzebub was laughing so hard that they looked in danger of falling over.

Aziraphale sighed at the display. It was starting to rain, dismal grey clouds dappling himself and Crowley with damp. The field would soon be a muddy mess.

“Wanna go home and snog some more?” Crowley asked him.

“That’s a wonderful idea, my dear.” 

~

Anathema and Newt were sitting around the dining nook in Jasmine Cottage sipping tea and watching a thunderstorm rage outside.

“You know,” Newt began. He paused a moment to watch a lightning bolt flash across the sky. “I thought I heard somewhere that thunderstorms were angels playing baseball.”

Anathema turned her head to give him a bemused look. “I’m pretty sure you’re thinking of Twilight.”

Newt blinked. “No…?”

“Because in Twilight, the vampires can only play baseball when there’s a storm out. The sound of them hitting the ball is like a crack of thunder, and it would scare the humans otherwise. Remember?” Anathema was a millennial, like Newt, and she had once forced him to watch Twilight with her, reasoning that ‘Every millennial should see Twilight at least once!’

Newt scrunched up his face as he pondered this. “I think I was thinking of Twilight,” he finally said.

“And anyway,” she added, “can you imagine Crowley or Aziraphale playing baseball?”

Newt let out a giggle. “That would be a sight to see.”

~

I hope you enjoyed our silly fic! If you have a GO prompt feel free to send it my way!

[wookiefragger]

The Scimitar is bae.

[soap-brain]

trekmemes replied to your post: ��️‍��

how’d you get Paul’s voice so good?? I love it!

jashldkfadf thank you!! uh, i guess it's just practise... i have written a few culmets stories here and there after all ^^'