just little tiny things i’m noticing that are sending me into a tailspin:
even with the entire range of emotion his facial expression went through at first - aziraphale’s eyes are closed when crowley pulls back from kissing him
his bowtie is askew from how crowley was crushed against him and yet prim-and-proper aziraphale doesn’t have the presence of mind to care one bit
when aziraphale touches his lips his hand is literally shaking violently. listen… what in the brideshead revisited self-denying repression. boy has he got it BAD for crowley
he also tries like three times to back out once metatron comes back because he’s realized he fucked up - asks about the bookshop and tries to stay, eyes darting toward the window, starts to say he thinks he needs to go
part of me is sure nothing would’ve worked to get him to change his mind but i’m also half-convinced if metatron hadn’t come back at that precise moment aziraphale might’ve gone after crowley after all because [tenth doctor voice] what. what. what
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@accidental-spice @kanerallels (and anyone else who happens to like the rookie and/or psych)
I have a show recommendation for yall if ya haven't already heard of it:
The Mentalist
The main character is deeply traumatized, has a very personal vendetta/grudge against a serial killer, is great with kids, has a skill set similar to Shawn Spencer, and like Shawn Spencer cares very little about keeping with any kind of social expectations.
He works as a consultant with his found family murder investigation team (seriously this team is all he's got in life it's kinda sad but also sweet). His superiors are constantly fed up with him but keep him around because he closes cases.
Him and the team's boss (Lisbon) act like the most married couple ever (they're besties, they won't stop arguing, they trust eachother with their lives, she's so fed up with him, she would follow him anywhere).
Rigsby and Vanpelt have had a thing for each other since day one, but aren't allowed to date due to protocol. Literally everyone knows about them (he can't stop looking at her Like That it's so hecking obvious). They're very cute.
Cho is the most unfazed person ever. He's awesome. He's the 5th wheel they can't live without. He's got their backs always. Most likely to go along with Jane's crazy plans and we love him for it.
Oh yeah and the main character's name is Jane (Patrick Jane).
Anyways yeah, the found family vibes are strong. Lots of murder investigations where's its genuinely tricky to tell who's guilty (seriously at this point I've come to accept that if they're not a member of the team then they're a likely suspect). Lots of Jane not doing what he's told (and doing a lot of what he's told not to, including casually hypnotizing people). Also some good angst so far (with lots more on the way, according to my friend). There's 7 seasons (of which I'm only on the 2nd), long seasons with long episodes, so that's nice.
So, yeah. Would highly recommend if yall are interested :D lmk if you decide to watch it (or if you've already watched it by chance 👀)
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HIIII :3 ITS ME... the 🐓!!!!!!!!
So we've had brainror abt reader turning into a cat but what about Dottore?? and his segments?
Reader walks in one day to see a big blue puff cloud and when it disapears theres a bunch of blue cats roaming around and meowing (As soon as they see reader its on sight and they WILL be begging for affection)
Reader sitting on a counch while a bunch of cats surround and suffocate them (it reminds them of Foxttore and the pufflings)
I NEED TO BE SURROUDNED BY A BUNCH OF CATTORES NOWWW Auauuuug
all the cats BITING reader affectionately (they are so MEAN even though reader is so nice to them 😔) AND OMGGG ZANDY AS A TINY LIL KITTEN AUUUUGGG MY HEART IM EXPLODING. ZANDY KITTY 3 SAUCES TALL!!!!!!! his lil meows..... 😭😭
I am ill..... I need doctor..... - 🐓
DOTTOCATS!!! CATTORES!!! <3 It would be the result of a failed experiment of course, just like all the other mishaps that always happen in the lab. Only that this is a lot worse than all the other ones. For them, at least. For you, you could die happily, surrounded by all of this kitty cuteness. Cattores are not amused by your lack of seriousness at the situation. No, they are not cute. Wait, is that a Kamera you have? Don't you dare.
Unfortunately for them, despite all the words they try to spew out, it only comes out as 'meow meow, meow meow meow! meow!' much to their dismay. You don't take their kitty anger too seriously, until they quickly learn how to utilize their new body (biting and repeatedly clawing your leg for attention). (Funnily enough somehow the masks shrunk down to the same size too?)
You will have the tall task of creating the cure to turn them back to normal humans but it won't be too much of a problem, they already have the ingredients in their mouth and are impatiently waiting for you to hurry up. You take your sweet time and take lots of breaks petting Zandy kitty, the only one who doesn't bite you and always brushes against your leg.
Just please cancel that meeting he has with Pantalone today. Please. And then be prepared for when he turns back. At least a cat his biting power isn't that much. As a human, however, well, you already know how that goes. (Isn't he much better to cuddle like this, Dottore asks, as you are trapped for a long time in his arms.)
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jumping off of that other anon about love and war: discussion on pieces of art (like the Brunswicker) or poetry (Lord Byron) who combine that sense of devoted love and helplessness. love recites Byron to simon and it turns him on, not because it's Byron, but because it's her (and he loves the way her mouth moves)
I watched thee when the fever glazed thine eyes
Yielding my couch, and stretched me on the ground
When overworn with watching, ne'er to rise
From thence, if thou an early grave hadst found.
Ghost is absolutely entranced by every part of this woman, but her mouth? The way she smiles at him makes his heart stop. The way she talks to him is like music, he can't help but want to listen to her for hours. He's down astronomical. Love is awful for his sanity and yet he can't turn her away like he does everyone else.
It's just- She's smart. She's smart enough to know better than to like him, than to go after a guy like him, and yet here she is. She perches on his desk to read Vonnegut just so she can turn to him and point out her favorite section, or ask his thoughts on whatever philosophy the book is lecturing. Love is the sort of pretty he'd never go after at a bar, the sort that has too much life to be bogged down by the type of love he has to offer. Absolute, rabid, devotion. And yet! And yet she knocks on his door, and leaves little notes in his books, and takes an interest in him in a way that no one else has. He almost touches her on purpose once, just to check that he hasn't imagined her. He thinks better of it.
Love jokes with him, to him about him. She's so... lovely. She's a fountain of knowledge, always inviting him to drink, and where he thought once that he was drowning in a sea of people he finds himself parched. He's alone when he's not with her. He finds his eyes on the lecture hall doors, watching for her. He tracks his time for office hours closer, waiting an extra few minutes for her. That's how he finds himself in her lectures, drawn to her when he can't stand being away any longer. He hovers in the back, unsure why he's even there, though he always comes with an excuse, and wonders why he enjoys her flirting so much.
She's discussing the anthropological importance of "heroes" the way that humanity craves the safety of them. The shift in ideals, the Byronic hero. Ghost wonders if this might not serve a literature class better, he glances at a nearby student's notes and sees the class is cross listed: "Human evolution through story telling." He got his times wrong, this isn't the philosophy one.
"Speaking of heroes," Love grins, and Ghost knows that's for him, "Simon, my favorite Byronic gentleman, here to recite some poetry for us?" God the way she says his name, he might need a pace maker to keep his heart beating the way it's supposed to. He holds up a paperback, and she shakes her head. "Knew I forgot something."
Love holds her hand out, and despite his better judgement Ghost walks down the lecture hall steps to hand the book to her. She flips through the pages, and almost seems disappointed. He's reminded of the little notes she leaves him in the books she returns. That's different though, those are in scholarly texts, this is a copy of Kafka's "Metamorphosis." She already heard his thoughts on it. Maybe not all of them, she'd started leaning too far over and he'd had to kick her out before she noticed him staring down her shirt, but enough.
"Not a poetry guy," Ghost tells her, she always seems to perk up when he talks. Now is no different, the light comes back to her smile as she glances up at him.
"I can start it off." She offers. Ghost hesitates, glancing back at the silent lecture hall, and gives a short nod.
"I watched thee when the foe was at our side,/ Ready to strike at him—or thee and me,/ Were safety hopeless—rather than divide/ Aught with one loved save love and liberty." He watches that pretty mouth shape the words, his head tipping with a gentle shake. One loved, together intertwined even in hopelessness. Love and Death, it's funny... he actually knows this one.
"I watched thee on the breakers, when the rock/ Received our prow, and all was storm and fear," Ghost swallows, frowning against Love's eager stare, something woefully soft in her eyes feels as sharp as a knife when he meets them. He looks away, finds more eyes, looks back. He lowers his voice, feels the rasp of it in his throat, the sticky promises he wants to make, hidden behind a stranger's words, "And bade thee cling to me through every shock;/ This arm would be thy bark, or breast thy bier." She's so dangerously close to him, stupidly close with those sweet lips curved like sin into a smile. "Love dwells not in our will." Ghost breathes.
"You're skipping ahead," Love leans in to whisper. Ghost can't help the way he leans as well, the tip of his head and aborted raise of his hand. Ghost stiffens, straightens and turns to go. He can't be around this woman any more. She's going to be the death of him. "Bye Simon," She calls after him.
"Dr. Riley," He grumbles. One student sitting on the aisle notes in the group chat later that they aren't sure if he was correcting her, or extending a similar goodbye, with a teeny-weeny Freudian slip.
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