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florenceafternoon · 5 months

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━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

Really, we shouldn’t be surprised by now but I have more amazing jily AU fics to share because the writers of this fandom are incredibly talented and I have my screen report to prove it.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries on ao3.

serendipity by desperateforsanity (on ao3)

Modern college/uni AU. Dearest Students and Staff, I am pleased to announce Hogwarts University’s fourth annual Pen Pal Program. Upperclassmen and sophomores likely remember and cherish the memories of their previous penpals and are excited to make another friend this year.

TW: for the later chapters for discussions of grief and its effects on one's mental well-being. For the most part, though this is a fun fic full of great banter!

The Frenzied Misadventures of Balcony Man and Window Woman by @clare-with-no-i

prompt: "It's 3am why are you outside my window- are you trying to rob me?"

It feels necessary to preface this entire thing with the fact that, yes, James had good reason to be dangling precariously from a third-floor balcony, and anyone who says differently is simply attempting to smear his good name.

At least, that’s the story he’s sticking to.

Hijinks & Shenanigans

mellow is the man (who knows what he's been missing) also by @/ clare-with-no-i

Earl's Court. 24th May, 1975. Led Zeppelin live in concert like you've never seen them before.

FEATURING: prolonged eye contact, deeply metaphoric descriptions of cigarette smoke, painful levels of detail about makeup, and a special one-time performance by Two Teens In Love! OR: the "we made eye contact at a Led Zeppelin concert but my friends pulled me away to mosh before I could come say hello" AU

So when I say that I saw this unfold frame by frame in my head, I mean the writing is on another level. The way that I could almost smell Earl Court ... I regret waiting so long to read it. Also, found out this is written by the same author as one of my favourite jily fics foreigner’s god so that explains it “I'm not a religious person but I do sometimes think God made you for me.” ― Sally Rooney, Normal People

but he’s a little bit too far away by @firefeufuego

Historical AU. A decade after they met as cadets for The Times, the toll of James chasing stories in war zones is starting to hit home for Lily.

Taking A Shot At You by @annabtg

Modern AU. Lily Evans, pharmacist, has to work all day and night on New Year's Eve - and ends up ringing in the new year with a bloke who just got himself a dog bite.

The Right Track by BeeDaily (on ao3)

Co-workers modern AU. When James is first handed the train ticket, his immediate reaction is to laugh openly in his father's face.

the horoscope by lirians

Modern AU. James stops momentarily to give way to a bunch of rambunctious teenagers on the pavement before he regains his step. Lily has come to a halt a bit further, waiting on him.

“Horoscopes?” he asks as they move onwards. He’s relieved that any awkwardness between them is apparently gone. “How so?”

“Marly sent me mine this week because it said I would meet someone from the past again,” she explains. “I’m still not sold on the idea of it, but isn’t this weird?”

I was inspired to read this by this art

The Falcon and The Squid by @jfleamont

There's a Lego Millennium Falcon that needs to be built. There's also a bet, a ring and a bike.

Put it all together and what do you get?

Leda's jily will always be a favourite of mine. They're idiots in love your honour

Glastonbury by elanev91 (on ao3)

Prompt: we're at a music festival and you crawled into my tent when drunk and fell asleep, now you've woken up bewildered and to be honest I should be more annoyed but you're just so good looking

One Day at Time by @sweeethinny

Single-mum-lily AU. One day at a time is the mantra Lily uses to keep peace inside her mind, but there are days when it's simply impossible and in the end all she needs is a glass of wine, a cozy hug with her boyfriend, and a serious talk with her son.

Note that you can read this as a stand-alone one shot but it's part of a series that takes place in this AU

For All My Life by aheartcalledhome & SecondJadeofLan (on ao3)

When saving the bees ends in a happy family.

pumpkins and blueberries by evotter (on ao3)

Modern soulmate AU. In which Lily Evans hates puzzles, Marlene McKinnon is a coffee-making goddess, and the stuffy manager with the unkempt hair just so happens to be Lily's soulmate. In the wise words of Mary Macdonald, nothing is scarier than a relationship. Especially if it's with your soulmate.

After Moon by lovesickjily (on ao3)

When the universe sent Lily back in time for some inexplicable reason, she didn’t realise that she’d fall for the charming, messy-haired Prince along the way, nor did she realise that she’d see him once again.

here's to never growing up by elixirsoflife (on ao3)

Chat fic where a group chat documents the lives of four highly dramatic teenage boys as they navigate their A Levels.

Or, like, die trying.

Okay, I rarely ever read chat fics, they're just not my thing. BUT this one had me wheezing on my way to school. It's crack. Just treat it like crack

Ice Baby also by elixirsoflife

Modern college/uni AU. In his defence, James never expected to meet his soulmate at thirteen minutes past eleven on a Sunday morning when he’s aiming a puck at Sirius’ balls.

Or: call me sweetheart again and I'll punch you in the throat.

Not a Clue by PotterandEvans (on ao3)

Modern college/uni Quarantine AU. Lily stood in the doorway of the flat, looking at the boy in front of her. She had spent most of the last two years keeping her distance from the annoying piece of work, staying away from his ego mostly. “Come in.” She said, stepping away from the doorway to let him into the flat that she usually shared with Remus.

"Ah, so kind." James muttered as he walked inside, his heavy bag weighing him down. This really was not the ideal situation, for either of them. But he had nowhere else to go, so staying with Lily Evans it was going to have to be.

they were zoommates (requires an ao3 account) by elanev91 (on ao3)

Modern college/uni Quarantine AU. Lily's on lockdown and, because she can't help herself, signs herself up for a whole bunch of extra (and free) work with her ad agency. Minerva, her boss, assigns a cheeky social media manager to her team to help her. Also, Marlene discovers TikTok (this is nowhere near as important to the narrative as its inclusion here suggests).

And You Heard About Me (Ooh, We’ve Got Some Big Enemies!) by @wearingaberetinparis

Fame AU. Lily Evans is a Grammy-winning singer-songwriter and global superstar, who recently broke up from her latest and long-term actor boyfriend Amos Diggory. James Potter is a professional football player who plays as a forward for Manchester United and has never been quiet about his celebrity crush: Lily Evans. When Lily Evans thus plays at Wembley Stadium - a place he is more than familiar with due to his being part of the England team - he just has to go and see her perform, embracing his inner, besotted fan boy, while the woman on stage is completely oblivious to his presence. Or is she?

The most unrealistic part was man u winning (but it's James so that explains it). Regardless, I started this fic while waiting for my final grades from last year to come through, and while they were disappointing, this sure wasn't. I was crying so hard that I fell asleep. Then I woke up and continued the fic and suddenly I was giggling along with Lilly. Anything and everything Mary writes is a masterpiece. Thank you for sharing this wonderful story.

it continues (the beginning doesn't matter) by whitesunlars (on ao3)

She is the last person he expected at his door at that exact moment, despite feeling unsure about the fact that she managed to track down his address, he agrees to go out to coffee with her. A lot could be said about James Potter, but nobody could claim that he had good self-preservation skills.

They meet in a bar. Mistakes happen. They learn to keep going.

#jily fic rec #jily #jple #lily evans #james potter

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simplepotatofarmer · 10 months

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counting dogs

my piece for the 'first try techno challenge'! i actually got dream and decided to roll again and combine the next roll which was the hound army! anyway, written with two minutes to spare <3 <3

“There’s no way you know all their names,” said Dream. Despite the heavy armor and his wide-legged, firm stance, the mass of dogs was still pushing him around and he struggled to stand in one place. “I mean, there’s like—”

He paused, clearly attempting to count.

Techno let him, mouth pulled into a grin, one eyebrow shooting up as far as it could go. When the silence stretched on, Techno gave him a little nudge, metaphorically.

“There’s…”

Dream twitched, turning his head towards Techno.

“There’s like, forty of them,” he said. “No way you know all their names, Technoblade.”

“I mean, there’s actually about 180 but who’s countin’. Who’s countin’…” He reached down and scratched one of the dog’s ears as it wagged its tail so excitedly that its whole body went with the tail. “Well, you were but let’s just forget about that.”

“Oh my god…”

Dream’s ears – the only part visible beneath the mask and the hood – turned bright red. It was probably rude to laugh but Techno did anyway, the dogs barking at the sound, working themselves up. Reaching out, Dream caught himself on the wall as one particularly eager dog bowled into him.

“Hey, Em, easy girl,” said Techno, making his way over. The dogs parted for him easily, tails going a mile a minute, accompanied by quiet barks and whines. “See? Nothin’ to it, Dream.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because they’re yours so they listen to you.”

“That is usually how it works, yup.”

“You’re so annoying.” Dream steadied himself. “But there’s seriously no way you’ve named all the dogs.”

Techno held his hands up, chuckling.

“Okay, you got me there, Dream. I haven’t got around to namin’ them all.”

“So you don’t know all their names,” said Dream, tone of voice triumphant, pointing a finger at Techno. “Which means I was right.”

Lightly, Techno smacked his hand away and one of the dogs took the action as an invitation to play, jumping up on Dream eagerly, licking at the mask. Techno was expecting a harsh reaction, had tensed in preparation for it, but Dream only made a noise of vague disgust and pushed the dog away.

“Ah ah ah. I know all the names of the dogs that have names.” Techno knelt, ruffling the fur of the closest dog. “So technically I know all of the dogs’ names.”

“What? No! That’s not—” Dream sputtered, trying to find a way to argue, wanting to argue, and coming up short. “Whatever.”

“So, you admit that you’re wrong.”

He was wrong but Dream would never admit to it.

“Shut up, Techno.”

“That’s what I thought,” he said, patting the dog on the head as he got to his feet.

Dream watched him, head tilted to the side. With the mask, the effect was strange, almost childlike.

“You should let me name a dog.”

“You wanna name a dog?”

It wasn’t an immediate refusal, more like an offer, and Dream straightened.

“Yeah.” A short pause. “Name it… Name it ‘Dream Has a House’.”

Techno laughed, loud and booming, and set the dogs off again. A mass of dog flesh writhed in the small space and Techno reached out, trying to pat each one as best he could.

“Easy, Dice. Easy, Fossilnet. Easy, Max.” After a moment, the barking and whining died down. “Alright, alright, but only for you, Dream.”

#firsttrytechnochallenge #technoblade #dreamwastaken #dsmp fanfic #dream smp #i thought my first roll/spin of the wheel was a little too on the nose considering who i am SO

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stuckasmain · 3 months

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Dave’s old life is cast aside and he is reborn (semi-literally) as a star child. It is an ending that has left many baffled, including me, but is ultimately a touching end and beginning.

Dave ends the story an evolved being, yet not so far detached from his human origin. He still has a great deal of emotion and curiosity - he becomes a baby because he simply is one when it comes to understanding the universe. He could go anywhere, do anything and yet he goes to earth. He goes and watches over it like a shiny toy, while his physical ties have been severed he’s still attached to it- almost like a mother, if we stay with the baby metaphor.

Eventually he will move on from it but for now he is a protector of sorts. The guardian of earth. He stops the bomb not for his own sake but because he simply wants humanity to continue on- he stops a potential doomsday!

It’s too bad this is completely uprooted in the following bits of the series. He is “beyond” emotion, he is on Europa. I would be fine if the evolution or planet was focused on even remotely besides the same few paragraphs, he’s transformed and cast aside. All of the prior meaning is rebuked, all of his humanity removed. See it wasn’t the transformation that did it but the story itself— as it decided to pivot and couldn’t just have him watching. He must be a blank slate. He must be elsewhere- he can’t even enjoy watching the other planet or if he does we don’t really hear of it.

Dave becomes more of a plot device than a person, as a star child there’s so many facinating things you could do with him. For one thing a dressing the trauma that came from that and before, and — again either guardian of earth - self chosen- or we actually see his involvement elsewhere. He becomes a just as much of a tool as the monolith.

Not only is his humanity stripped but his agency, in 2010 he describes himself as a dog on a leash a good number of times. While I absolutely adore that metaphor, it’s so tragic and not even acknowledged as such?! (Again so much could be considered cosmic horror and it’s either had waved or blankly accepted) he went from a near omnipotent being to LOSING LARGE CHUNKS OF TIME AND BEING USED AS A PROBE. He’s suddenly beyond humanity when he was so attached before; he becomes apathetic incredibly fast. (Which, as a immortal being is understandable but it’s absolutely unearned and not in character) -> my issue isn’t with him becoming a tool of some higher power it’s that it’s sort of hand waved “it is how it is” and not addressed how messed up and interesting it is.

Now I’ve yet to read 3001 but my point here broadly stands. I fully believe it should’ve ended after 2010, as it comes across as very very clear it was a two book story and 2061 is a whole separate one with some characters tossed into it.

Arcs were over. There was a bit more explanation as to what happened in the first one; we got closure alongside Heywood. Things were set up for the future but it was more in a way for you to view them as fully developed not exactly a sequel. (Like the Hal 10,000 idea). It’s frustrating because Dave as a Starchild can lead to so many interesting things and it was a beautiful idea in 2001 but … after that it mistreats and mischarectetizes Him so fast in a way that frustrates me to no end. Maybe if there was an actual focus or exploration I could understand the direction but making him a cut out god figure is such a sad end.

A child of the stars still clinging to its former life, its humanity…

Oh what could have been. I’d like to imagine Dave would’ve never completely… not been Dave, yes over centuries he may subdue emotions, his interest may waver but what we get is a name and maybe some memory.

—

Clarification:

I fully enjoy 2010, my issues with Dave in that are minimal just that it’s a little sad he swaps guardianship but I can understand. I was excited and interested in Europa… only for that too also get sort of ignored.

There’s also some interesting points to come out of 2061 - how the monolith works, conversing with Hal and he does seem to have a genuine interest in study but it’s also where he’s sort of a name drop and little else

It’s the stripping him of his emotion and character that really gets me - as it’s a route that isn’t earned as Clark absolutely does not write about trauma or if he does it’s a off handed “ok so everyone dying and the monolith was a little scary but now I’m blue and don’t care” it’s even true for human characters idk

I pick and choose what I want to keep from the further books honestly, we’ll see if 3001 fixes this or if this rant grows longer. I’m just sad, Dave’s such a fascinating character and he’s so mistreated?

#2001 a space odyssey #2001 aso #2010 the year we make contact #2061 odyssey three #3001 the final odyssey #dave bowman #David bowman #2001 meta #fandom essay #rant #ramble #space odyssey series #space odyssey books #arthur c clarke

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johnslittlespoon · 2 months

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that post about bucky and all the dog metaphors actually has me shaking like i just had a panera charged lemonade dose of caffeine THE WAY IVE BEEN CONSIDERING THE EXACT SAME THINGS BUT I THOUGHT I WAS CRAZY please please write this im serious ill start writing john on his knees figurative leash is buck's hand if you do like i've already got it in my head im gonna think about it for the rest of the week anyway might as well

SJDGKK THIS HAS ME GIGGLING. I KNOW I KEEP SAYING IT BUT YES DOG CODED BUCKY IS MY FAVOURITE TROPE IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD.

i am ABSOLUTELY writing the hell out of it, the amount of ideas i have for it would eat away at what few braincells i have left otherwise, and it makes me SO happy that other people love the concept just as much, it's so motivating honestly and i'm so thrilled that i get to yap about it here <33

also i know you said figurative leash but i've thought a god awful amount about gale actually collar–and–leashing john in a worrying amount of scenarios (gale holding him close with the leash while he has john on his knees and he's buried deep in his throat, gale using his leash like a handhold while he's fucking john doggy(ha)style, gale tying john to the bed post with his leash and making him watch while he touches himself, etc etc.)

the dog thing was meant to just be a maybe 3–4k word oneshot originally, but lately i've been feeling maybe a 3–4 part thing, not a chaptered fic because as soon as i call it that i know i'll feel too intimidated to write it LOL but more so a short fic? idk. i just know there's a lot of feelings–heavy stuff i wanna get into with it, but also a lot of smut ideas, but most of them won't fit naturally into the flow of the oneshot, so i'm foreseeing at LEAST one or two pwp oneshots set in the same fic lol.

it's gonna be a lot but i just. ugh. john egan is dog coded au is everything to me okay <33 it feels like my baby and it's not even written yet! i haven't even decided on a title but it's got its own playlist and everything already lol i'm in so deep :')

#dog coded bucky fic #johnslittlespoon asks #johnslittlespoon spicy

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impishjesters · 6 months

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Denture Daddy

CW// implied unspecific sexual relationships, dom/sub talk, use of the word "daddy" and "mommy" in a non-parental form, mentioned hate sex note(s): basically the reader and Jibba (my TADC oc) playing a dumb game of who seems like a dom or sub to pass the time. Jibba can be seen as a bit of a "whore" but he wears it proudly. Rhett (who's mentioned) is another of my TADC ocs. A/N: This whole thing happened all because I wanted to say "denture daddy". I don't expect anyone to give a shit about this. But at the end of the day as long as my friend and I enjoy it, that's all that matters.

Conversations with Jibba was like a game of Russian roulette. You never knew what direction or topic would come up.

Sometimes the conversations were casual, asking how you were doing or if anything fun had happened. But then you’d get conversations about a tiered ranking of who was considered good in bed, only to get whiplash by a simple conversation on whether you were a dog or cat person.

It was a wild ride, to say the least, which is how you got roped into a conversation about your fellow circus captives and whether they fell into dom or sub-category—for shits and giggles that is.

“‘m just sayin’, ya look at Jax ‘n think he’s got this whole sadistic face to ‘im and it turns out he’s just as touch starved as he looks,” Jibba stated.

Right, they were sleeping together—something about hate fucking because of their prank war or some shit. Neither of them was very subtle about their pranks or their “hate sex” because if that was hate sex you hated to see what tamed sex was like.

Bunch of emotionally constipated idiots.

Jibba jabbed you with his elbow playfully, getting your attention back on him. “Thoughts on Kinger?”

“Definitely not a dom, in fact, it feels wrong to think about him even having sex.” You shuddered. Kinger felt too much like your dad, and thinking of your parent’s boinking was enough to make you wanna bleach your eyes.

He shrugged and crossed his arms before leaning his chest against your back. “Yea’ it’s like watchin’ ya gramparents be romantic an mushy.”

“Ugh,” you gagged, “why’d you have to make it worse? I was thinking of my dad at least.”

“Oo, you thinkin’ bout ya dad playing twista? Naughty, naughty.” he teased, shooting you a playful smirk.

You elbowed him hard, basking in the pained noise that left him. “You know damn well what I meant.”

Jibba groaned and rubbed his side, you had a mean right elbow. “Yea’ yeah, alright so what ‘bout Rhett?”

“Eye Daddy? Oh, yeah. Total dom, but like not like in that rough way—”

“—but in like a total control way? Oh yeah, ya don’t know how hard I’ve been tryin’ to crack that nut—metaphorically and literally.” Jibba scoffed and used your head as an armrest, staring out at the others doing one of Caine’s dumb lil games.

“Are you just making rounds to everyone?” You didn’t shame Jibba for his sex escapades, if anything good on him for finding some way to tame Jax’s awful behaviour.

“Only the hot ones.” You looked up at him despite his arm on your head and he sent you a wink. “I’ll get to ya in no time, less ya wanna jump the list then we can go find somewhere right now.”

“Yeah, not right now.” As entertaining as the thought was, you were quite relaxed just hanging out with the ridiculous man. Though it would be a tempting endeavor at a later time. “So, Ragatha?”

“Mm,” Jibba leaned back, taking most of his weight off of you but kept his arm in place. “She gives like, soft mommy vibes.” he waved his hand in a so-so gesture. “Though I feel like she has a lot of parental experiences if she’s been havin’ ta live with Jax for god knows how long.” He paused, eyes squinting in Ragatha’s direction. “I’d let her give me a good stern talk’ ta.”

“I’ll give you a stern talkin’ ta, if you don’t calm yourself.”

“Babe, this whole conversation is about who’s a dom and who’s not, how do ya expect me to keep calm?” he joked. You raised your arm again with a silent threat to elbow him and he swallowed. “Yeah, okay, calming down.”

“Pomni?”

The two of you fell silent, staring over at the anxious woman who was struggling to get out of Jax’s reach.

“Anxious chihuahua.” Both of you stated at the same time.

Jibba laughed that awful eerie death rattle of his. Did a toy like him really exist? God that was horrifying, who buys that for children? You knew he could control it but why did he have to do it now of all times?

He caught you staring and grinned. “Somethin’ wrong?”

Right, this is Jibba we’re talking about, he knows it’s creepy and did it intentionally. Bastard.

“No,” you rolled your eyes and looked back to Pomni. “She’s too anxious, poor woman probably has a hard time holding someone’s hand let alone sex. Though I’d rather not think about her sex life… feels wrong.”

“Oh, and thinkin’ ‘bout mine ain’t?”

You gave him a deadpan stare as to say ‘Really, that’s what you wanna ask?’. He cleared his throat and mumbled a little ‘touche’ before looking back at the others.

“Oo, I know a good one,” he snickered. “Caine.”

“Caine?” Well, at least he wasn’t asking you about Bubble.

For whatever unknown reason, at the mention of his name Caine appeared a few feet from the two of you with a loud pop. “Diiiid somebody say Caine?”

Jibba shook his head, seemed even with a lack of ears the loud pop affected him. You shook your own head, rubbing an ear. “Uh, not directly.”

Caine cocked his head in confusion, clearly not understanding you were simply talking about him—not trying to summon him. “I see. Well, while I’m here. Why aren’t you two participating?” he asked, waggling his fingers in the direction of the others.

“We’re playin’ our own game,” Jibba answered, giving you a playful nudge.

“Oh?” Caine floated closer, eyeing the lanky doll.

“Yea’, the game of dom or sub.”

Caine cocked his head again. “I don’t understand.”

Jibba snickered and you couldn’t help but cover up your own laugh with a grunt. “What he mean’s is—”

“Oh no, he’s like one of those tops with golden retriever vibes that when ya call ‘em daddy like yer sayin’ ‘good boy’ they get excited.” He covers his face, a genuine laugh instead of that death rattle laugh.

The look of confusion never leaves Caine’s face but you can’t help but join Jibba in his laughter, because he’s not wrong. You could say a lot of insulting or weird things to Caine, but if you use that dog tone with him he’ll take just about anything as a compliment or praise.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, he’d be so fun to fuck with. “He’s not a dom…” you snicker, “but I’d still call him daddy.”

“Denture Daddy!” Jibba bursts out, nearly knocking himself and you off your perch.

The two of you laugh so loud it catches the attention of the others across the way. You wave your hand at Ragatha’s confused expression and further try to prevent the two of you from falling.

“I hate to intrude on this moment of merriment but,” Caine clears his throat, looking between the two of you with confused concern. “You two do know I’m not your father, yes?”

Jibba lets out a scream that turns everyone’s attention back onto you two, only to follow with nearly scream-level laughter from the man. You can’t really blame him though because you haven’t stopped laughing either, especially not long enough to try and explain to Caine that the two of you weren’t calling him father.

You give Caine what one could only describe as some form of yes as an answer before telling him he can go between cries and Caine leaves hesitantly. Your sides are starting to ache from so much laughing, meanwhile, Jibba has his face buried into his hands and is leaning into your shoulder like you’d be able to stop his laughter and tears.

He’s taking this a lot funnier than you but man, “denture daddy” is gonna always be in the back of your mind when you look at Caine from now on.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #the amazing digital circus oc #tadc oc #tadc original character #original character x reader #tadc rhett (oc)#tadc jibba (oc)

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labellefleur-sauvage · 11 months

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DILF Daydreamin'

Lucien would be a great dad, Elain thought suddenly. The image of him holding and caring for their eventual children came completely unbidden to her mind, like a metaphorical bell that wouldn’t stop ringing in her ears. He’d be so sweet and supportive and fun-

Woah, settle down girl, Elain thought. You’ve only been dating him for a few months. One afternoon babysitting your nephew isn’t enough proof that Lucien would be a good dad, if he even wants that.

Elain discovers she likes the idea of making Lucien a DILF. Elain also discovers that Lucien likes the idea of Elain making him a DILF.

For @elucienweekofficial 2023 Day 7: This smut! I have no excuses. The title gives you everything you need to know (full tags are on the AO3 link), so don't say I didn't warn ya. Thank you for the event organizers for making Elucien Week 2023 so much fun!

Rating: Very Explicit

Words: 4K

Read on AO3

XXX

“God, Elain, you’re a lifesaver.”

Elain Archeron stood in the foyer of her sister and brother in law’s once pristine house, a slight grimace on her face. She understood why Feyre had called her the evening before, sounding exhausted and trying to sound desperately like she wasn’t begging Elain to babysit her nephew so she and Rhys could have a few hours of blissful silence to clean and sleep. Feyre stood in front of her now, looking just as weary as she sounded.

“He’s a precocious boy, isn't he?” Elain hummed as she surveyed the damage around her. A brown blob she prayed was chocolate was splattered on the tile floors, paint scribbles decorated the white walls, small Lego bricks formed a veritable minefield in the hallway all the way to the kitchen, and other random toys—plastic cars, a stuffed bat, picture books—littered any open space on the floors and furniture around her.

“Geez,” a deep voice said behind Elain. “For a little guy, he sure can cause a lot of destruction, huh?”

Elain tilted her head and smiled softly as her boyfriend Lucien stood behind her and looked over Nyx’s path of destruction. They were still in the honeymoon phase of their new relationship, and Elain had been worried when she called him last night to cancel the picnic in the park they had planned for the next day.

“We can just bring him with us,” Lucien responded easily. “He can’t be that difficult to manage. He’ll wear himself out, I’m sure.”

Now Elain wondered if perhaps Lucien may have underestimated the task ahead of them.

“He got into my painting supplies,” Feyre said, watching Lucien’s eyes settle on the walls. “He was so excited to show me his little masterpiece this morning.”

Elain grinned. “Maybe you have another painter on your hands.”

“More like another agent of chaos, like his father,” Feyre said conspiratorially. “Come on,” she motioned, waving Elain and Lucien into her house, “we have everything in the kitchen. We already have everything packed—don’t worry, that’s just chocolate—including food, toys, extra clothes, all that. He has a little bit of eczema on his arms, so we can only use this special sunscreen on him—it’s in the bag. Oh, and he still doesn’t quite understand that not every puppy is friendly, so if you see any dogs around, keep an eye on him so he doesn’t run and try to make a new friend. Here he is!”

They entered the kitchen to see Rhys strapping Nyx into his car seat. Her brother in law’s normally perfectly styled hair was disheveled and greasy looking. His white shirt had no less than four distinct, suspicious stains, and his gray sweatpants were ripped in several places. He had the same tired, wan complexion as his wife, though his face brightened like Feyre’s did when she saw Elain and Lucien.

“Our saviors!” Rhys grinned. “I’ve already told Nyx that he’s going to the park today and he has to be on his best behavior, so I hope that’s still the plan,” he said, looking nervously between Elain and Lucien.

“It is,” Elain said brightly, standing in front of Nyx in his carseat. “We’re going to have so much fun today, aren’t we!” She tickled his belly and he clapped his hands excitedly.

“Lain, lain!”

“And we have someone else joining us today,” she said, dragging Lucien over to stand next to her. “Nyx, this is Lucien.”

“Hey buddy,” Lucien said softly, grinning at Nyx. “We’re gonna have a lot of fun at the park today.”

Nyx stared solemnly at Lucien but perked up when he heard the word ‘park.’ He smiled and squirmed in his car seat.

“Go, go!”

“His new favorite word,” Feyre said. “Which means it’s probably time for you three to head out, unless you want a full blown tantrum soon.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Elain said as Lucien grabbed the handle of Nyx’s car seat and started wading back through the trenches to the front door.

“He has a lot of energy!” Feyre called after them.

“We got it!” Elain called back.

“He’s one toddler, how bad could it be?” Lucien asked as he buckled the car seat into his SUV. “Right, my man? I bet you’ll be ready for a nap after an hour of playing.”

Apparently, Nyx was up for the challenge.

“How is he… still going?” Lucien puffed weakly, his hands on his knees as he tried to recover his breathing. “He just won’t stop. What is that kid running on? He hasn’t eaten in hours!”

“I’m hungry just watching him,” Elain panted. She was in her nicest yellow sundress and wasn’t able to keep up with her nephew and Lucien, but she was trying her hardest. They had been at the park for nearly three hours and Nyx hadn’t stopped running since his little feet hit the grass. They had already gone down every slide in the huge park a dozen times, ran and jumped over every piece of playground equipment they could find, rode the old fashioned carousel twice, played in the decommissioned old fashion fire truck—though Nyx was too afraid to go down the firepole, even in Lucien’s arms—and had wandered down to the pond to feed the ducks and geese.

“I should have put my Apple Watch on him, see how many steps he’s taken.” Lucien wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“I don’t think we’ve invented a number that high.”

“Loo! Loo!”

Nyx was standing next to a baby swing seat, thumping his chubby hand against the plastic.

“Loo! Go, go!”

“Impressive,” Elain smirked. “You already have a nickname. And he wants you to push him on the swing.”

“Lain and Loo,” Lucien said, wrapping his arm around her waist and kissing her briefly. “We should get matching couple shirts.”

Elain hummed happily as butterflies tumbled in her stomach at his suggestion. “Go on, go play with Nyx for a bit and I’ll get everything for the picnic ready.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and pushed him away playfully when he went back for another kiss.

She took her time setting up a picnic table with all their food, then ambled her way towards the swing set. Lucien was excitedly pushing Nyx in a chair-style swing, her nephew’s chubby little legs waving in the wind. Every now and then Lucien would duck to the side of the swing and pop up right in front of Nyx, much to his glee. His shrieks of laughter rang through the air as Lucien laughed right along with him, and Elain lost her breath.

Lucien was stunning. He had put his long red hair in a ponytail and his golden brown skin was flushed with the summer heat and the exertion of pushing Nyx. His biceps bulged with the effort and his shirt revealed a bit of trailing red hair on his toned stomach as it rode up whenever he lifted his arms.

All of his attention was on Nyx, though. Lucien looked genuinely happy to be pushing his girlfriend’s nephew for the hundredth time. He didn’t look annoyed or put out that the picnic he had painstakingly planned for the two of them now included an energetic toddler. Her boyfriend’s eyes were filled with excitement, his smile big and bright, his enthusiasm contagious.

But the images wouldn’t go away. Like it was right in front of her, she could see Lucien pushing a redheaded girl in a swing, her hair blowing in the breeze, or going down a slide with a little boy with her brown curls. It was all so clear and so lifelike. He’d be so kind and gentle and nurturing to their kids.

“Earth to Elain. Hey! Elain?”

Elain blinked. Lucien was giving Nyx a few weak pushes and staring at Elain with a furrowed brow.

“You alright? You were kind of staring at us and zoning out.”

“Uh huh,” she said noncommittally. That was embarrassing; they were still so new together, and the topic of potential future families hadn’t come up yet.

“You sure? You look a little flushed.”

“Just the heat!” she replied with a fake grin. “Come on you, time for food.” Elain plucked Nyx out of the swing and put him on her hip, refusing to look Lucien in the eyes. “Your mommy packed you all your favorites,” she told Nyx, pinching his red little cheeks. “Goldfish and applesauce and berries.” Nyx smiled at her and Elain took that as a sign he might actually eat some food.

She turned and headed to their table. “I could eat a horse,” she said. “I’m really glad we packed a whole bag of those barbecue potato chips.”

The only reply was Nyx’s little babbles. Elain looked around—Lucien wasn’t with her. Turning back, she saw him standing by the swings, staring after Elain with a dazed and surprised look.

“Is the heat getting to you too?” she called back to him.

Lucien’s eyes darted up to hers before he ran his hands over his face. “Yeah,” he called back, making his way towards them. “Guess I forgot what it felt like to stand still.”

By the time they finished their food and went for one last ride on the carousel, Nyx finally started to slow down. They went down a few of his favorite slides before packing everything up and heading back to Feyre’s house.

They returned a napping Nyx to his refreshed parents and a much cleaner house, then made a hasty retreat back to Elain’s apartment. She thought her and Lucien would have a quiet evening consisting of takeout food and Netflix, before going to bed early so they could recover from their tiring day.

Taking energy inspiration from Nyx, her boyfriend had other ideas.

Lucien had carried her to her bedroom and unceremoniously dumped her on the bed, tearing off her clothes, and was currently between her thighs, his tongue making clever twists and turns over her folds. He was good at everything in bed, but he seemed to take a particular shine to eat Elain out.

“Fuck!” Elain gasped as one of his fingers entered her slick channel, her eyes fluttering close. He thrust his finger inside her as his stiff tongue flicked the head of her clit. She was so close, and she wanted to come on his face before coming on his cock. All she had to do was lay back and relax.

Instead, her mind wandered. She thought of the casual strength Lucien had displayed when he carried her to bed, and the warm smile on his face, and was instantly reminded of Lucien pushing Nyx on the swing, how good he was with her nephew, and how natural caring for a child came to him.

He crooked his finger just right inside her and a bolt of lightning shot down her spine. “Oh fuck Daddy, yes!”

Lucien stopped moving completely and it took a few seconds for Elain to register the silence in the room. She whined and thrust her hips up towards his face, her oncoming orgasm swiftly departing, when she finally opened her eyes to look at him. His eyebrows were raised, eyes wide, and what she had blurted out suddenly came back to her.

“Oh God,” Elain whispered, mortified.

“That wasn’t what you just called me,” Lucien quipped, unable to keep a smirk from his face as he pulled his finger from her cunt.

But this was no laughing matter. She had just called her boyfriend of only a few months—a few months! They weren’t even living together!—Daddy, one of the kinkiest things she could imagine. This might even be too much for Lucien to handle, freak that he was.

Sex with Lucien was great. He was enthusiastic, listened to her, wanted her to have as many orgasms as possible, and had the stamina of a racehorse, with a cock to match. He was the complete package—no pun intended—and she had just called him Daddy. She had never been so embarrassed in her life.

“I’m sorry!” Elain moaned, covering her beet red face with her hands. “I don’t know where that came from!”

Lucien hummed and kissed her inner thighs. “I can hazard a guess. Maybe the sight of seeing me with Nyx today made your brain think of me with our future kids. Less Daddy kink and more… DILF kink.”

Shoot. Her. Now. She was not having this discussion, preferably at all, but especially not with a new boyfriend.

Elain shuddered and fought to keep her breathing steady. She didn’t trust herself to answer. She peeked out from behind her fingers. Lucien stared up at her, an eyebrow cocked, waiting for an answer.

“Um, y-yeah, I guess,” she stuttered out. “Just a weird, one time, slip of the mind. Biological clock is ticking, and all that.”

“It doesn’t have to be one time.”

Oh, god. Why was Elain surprised that Lucien would be into this? She had quickly learned over the course of their relationship that he was a certified freak in the sheets. The difference was, he had been the one who always brought any new kinks into the bedroom. Elain wasn’t sure if she wanted her first foray into kink to be calling her boyfriend Daddy without any prior discussion on the topic.

“I saw you today, watching me with Nyx.” Lucien’s voice had gone deeper, his eyes hooded. He trailed the tips of his fingers over the soft skin of her inner thighs and hips, and Elain shivered. “At first I just thought you were worried I’d drop him or something. But then,” he suddenly thrust two fingers into her heat and Elain gasped, “I noticed you giving me that same look you have on right now.”

“And what look is that?” Elain was torn: she desperately wanted Lucien to continue, but her own embarrassment made her want to crawl away and hide for a week.

“Your ‘fuck me now’ look,” he said, thrusting his thick fingers in and out of her pussy. “Your eyes get all hazy and you bite your lip and you start squirming, like you need my hard cock in you or you’ll go crazy—yeah, just like that. And seeing me with Nyx made you that way, hm?”

“Lucien, please,” Elain whimpered.

“Please what? Answer me: did seeing me with a baby turn you on?”

“Yes,” she groaned, mortified. She closed her eyes.

“Good, because seeing you like that was so fucking hot.”

Elain gasped as Lucien withdrew his fingers from her body and manhandled her so she was on her knees and elbows, her ass in the air. He settled in behind her and knocked her knees further apart with his own. She was vibrating with anticipation as she felt his hard length between her legs.

“Seems you're not too embarrassed now, huh?” Elain couldn’t see his face but knew Lucien was grinning slyly at her.

Elain huffed and merely arched her back even further, sticking her ass up closer to him.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Elain yelped, blushing at her reaction.

“Then use your words. What do you want?”

“I want you in me.”

Lucien scoffed. “Is that all? That’s not very original.”

She groaned in embarrassment and buried her head in her pillow. “I want you to come in me,” Elain mumbled, speaking more into the bed below her than Lucien over her.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” he cooed in a sing-song voice.

Elain gritted her teeth. She didn’t mind being teased but she was quickly growing frustrated that she hadn’t come yet and that Lucien appeared to be making light of her embarrassment.

“I want you to fuck me and I want you to come in me!” she snapped, looking over her shoulder to glare at Lucien.

He gave her a cocky grin. “Was that so hard?” Not giving her time to answer, Lucien shoved her face down into the bed and ran his cock over her slick folds.

“God, you’re so perfect Elain,” he groaned, notching the fat head of his cock at her pussy. “But you know what?” Lucien leaned down to whisper in her ear. She shivered. “Seeing you holding a baby on your hip today made me think all the same things you were thinking about me.” He sunk into her slowly, letting her adjust to his girth before withdrawing and sinking just a little bit deeper inside her. “Made me wonder what our kids would look like, how you’d look holding them.”

Elain gasped for air as Lucien finally settled all of his cock inside her, stretching her out and filling her. She took several uneven, heaving breaths, not only from his length, but the realization that Lucien had the same dirty fantasies as her. She relaxed in the knowledge that he wasn’t disgusted by her—quite the opposite, apparently—and wriggled her hips in an unspoken gesture to move.

Gripping her hips and cursing quietly to himself, Lucien set a fast pace, his powerful hips snapping against her ass. Elain moaned and hung her head between her arms. Lucien always seemed to know exactly how she wanted to be fucked, how hard he needed to go or whether she wanted something slower.

He gave a rough thrust and she yelped. God, it felt like his cock was halfway in her stomach. She clenched around him and Lucien’s answering moan made her tremble. He fucked her even faster, and Elain gripped her duvet cover so hard she thought she might tear it if she wasn’t careful. This was absolute perfection. Lucien was absolute perfection—

“Have you thought of it before? Me as a DILF?”

Well, maybe not. Elain snorted and laughed through her moans. He was still fucking her roughly, though he slowed down to laugh with her at his ridiculous statement.

“I haven’t before,” she said, turning to look back and up at him and grinning. “But I’m definitely going to now.”

Lucien grinned and leaned down to kiss her shoulder, placing a solid hand over hers on the bed and lacing their fingers together. His other hand wandered down to her lower stomach and pressed against her, his cock leisurely stroking in and out of her tight depths.

“Not now, but maybe one day, you’ll make me a dad, yeah?” His breath was warm against the shell of her ear. “Let me come in you until it takes, right here?”

“Yes, yes,” Elain whimpered, screwing her eyes shut at the dirty image his words conjured in her mind. She knew he loved coming in her, but she thought, like most men, Lucien just had a fascination with his come, not a full on breeding kink. His words sent flutters throughout her lower belly and Lucien moaned as her pussy tightened around him. His hand on her stomach moved between her legs and slowly started caressing her clit as he fucked her, his hips rutting into her as he hunched over her.

“Say it.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Fuck, Elain, I need you to come now.” His fingers circled her clit as thrust into her, his breathing harsh between her shoulder blades. “God, please say you’re close.”

There were too many sensations within and around her: Lucien’s warm hand holding her own, the wet smacking of their flesh joining, his rough fingers on her clit, and his cock hitting her so deep his come wouldn’t have far to go if he really was trying to knock her up.

It was that sudden realization that did her in. With a final strangled gasp Elain came, her walls fluttering and squeezing Lucien’s cock so hard that he came only a moment later. Groaning, he dug his teeth into her shoulder, leaving a temporary part of himself in the indentations in her flesh.

He panted against her raggedly. His fingers tenderly stroked the sides of her clit as she quivered through the aftershocks of her orgasm. She felt sweaty and tired but content.

“Do you have one more left in you?” Lucien asked quietly, his fingers brushing the sensitive head of her bud.

Elain wriggled underneath his big body. She was dangerously close to becoming overstimulated, little shocks of discomfort blazing through her clit the more he touched her. A few tears gathered at the corner of her eyes. “Oh, Lucien…”

“Just one more,” he said soothingly, kissing her along her jaw and neck as his fingers picked up their pace. “Need to make sure you keep all my come inside you so you can give me a baby. Fuck, you’d look so beautiful pregnant.”

Sobbing, Elain came again, weak aftershocks flooding her body. Lucien turned her head towards his to kiss her, swallowing her feeble cries with his soft lips. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Lucien withdrew his hand and his cock from her body, running soothing circles over her skin as she collapsed face first onto the bed, trembling.

A warm hand skimmed the back of her thigh, up and up, then kneaded one of her ass cheeks. “I love seeing my come dripping out of your pretty cunt,” Lucien rasped in her ear, sweetly kissing her before he rolled down next to her on the bed like he hadn’t just completely rocked Elain’s world. He took her hand in his, entwining their sweaty palms together.

Elain turned her head and peeked at him. Lucien was covered in a thin layer of sweat, his face and upper chest flushed. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily through his mouth. The most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, Elain thought, taken aback, once again, by how damned lucky she was.

“You’re still on birth control, right?” Lucien asked, cracking a single eye open to look at her.

“Oh yeah, I still have a few years left.”

“Oh, thank God. Knew you did, but in the heat of the moment…”

“What, you weren’t serious about knocking up the girl you’ve only been seeing a few months?” Elain asked sarcastically, arching an eyebrow and smirking at him as she turned over to lay on her side towards him.

He scoffed. “Well, not yet at least. My mom would kill me if I got you pregnant and we weren’t married.”

She ignored the little somersaults in her belly at hearing Lucien talk about marriage and getting her pregnant one day. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to live with the knowledge that my insanely hot boyfriend is a sex fiend with a breeding kink,” she sighed dramatically.

“Insanely hot boyfriend, huh?” Lucien smirked. “I’ll take it. But the real question: am I hot enough to be a DILF?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I’m not answering that,” she said.

“We could put it to the test. Give me a reason to marry you and not have my poor mother disown me.” His eager hands wandered up her legs and stomach to her breasts, caressing a peaked nipple.

“Lucien!” Elain shrieked in laughter, hitting him with a pillow as he feebly tried to defend himself. Sometime later she would admit that yes, he’s definitely hot enough to be a DILF - as long as she was the only one who got to fuck him.

(Lucien had no complaints about that.)

#elucienweek2023 #elucien #pro elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #acotar #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #my fic #my fics #WELP #look away god this doesnt concern you #this is straight up FILTH #SMUT

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activatebutterflyshield · 5 months

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Songs that make me really really really want to learn animation so I can make epic sequences with them as the soundtrack

- Notos by the Oh Hellos, itd make a great phoenix-rising, defeated-character-realizing-their-power-and-absolutely-destroying-someone-who-did-them-real-trauma thing. Also the metaphors and imagery. “Every inhale I take, swallow the ocean whole and I am one / With the hurricane, tall as the tide that laps with a rabid tongue”??? “With every exhale I break you down with a fury, I lay the hills undone / Like a dog gone untamed, bellowing out a river from my lungs”??????

- Boreas by the Oh Hellos, the perfect sort of ‘Im completely defeated but by god I’m still going to do something to help’

- Okay I should just include all of the Four Winds EPs in here. Get over here, Eurus and Zephyrus. Passerine and Rio Grande specifically.

- The Horror and the Wild by the Amazing Devil, see this one fandom post I made that was basically a desperate attempt to visualize an animatic I could never make

- Chords by the Amazing Devil, entirely different vibes but bloody hell it lights a fire in my heart every time I hear it. Just. “We were the winter nights / So you could be the morning snow / Your life begins by leaving / And our love is shown / In the letting go”????????

- Rockslide by the Crane Wives. Im writing a whole thing about that album, Coyote Stories’, relationship with climate change and the generally horrible state of the world and this song is the reason. “Oh I pray today my soul to keep / But we best get a move on or the devil we will meet”?? I mean. Mates. It hits hard.

- Sleeping Giants by the Crane Wives. Same album as Rockslide and just as strong if not more so. It would make for a great call-to-war or prelude-to-a-big-ol-battle.

- Rule #3 Paperwork by Fish in a Birdcage. By goodness is Paperwork underrated (though methinks Rule #2 Moonlight is even more underrated but thats just a good song) and I love it to death. Just a great song for an easygoing time. Or, alternatively, a great song for a subtle call to action.

- Rule #33 Pyre by Fish in a Birdcage. Its just great. A final, fond farewell from a beloved parent or mentor or loved one or other dear person telling you that you’ll be fine after they’re gone. Also the accordion is really neat in this one. “Trust yourself and live it your way”. It just is great.

- WOLVES OF THE REVOLUTION. ARCADIAN WILD. This gave so much inspiration for writing a revolution and the people involved in it. Its perfect for that arc. It doesnt bloody matter if said revolution is in a war tragedy of a fanfic.

Theres more but I dont have much to say about them, so just know that Horse Soldier, Horse Soldier (Corb Lund), Solar Waltz (Cosmo Sheldrake), Mvmt II Begin and Never Cease (The Oh Hellos (really bloody Christian but its so good just music wise)(Also Christmas as hell)), The Day Goes On (Bill Wurtz), and my very dear Discord’s Smallest Violin (The AJR Discord) are also very dear to my heart and would probably become something if I had enough commitment and free time and all those other extremely volatile factors to actually learn how to animate. I will, someday. But that day is not today.

Also I swear to you @writer-of-random-things I am writing the climate-change-Coyote-Stories thing. It exists. Or, about half of it exists. I got to The Hand That Feeds and its. Uh. A lot.

#the oh hellos #the amazing devil #the crane wives #fish in a birdcage #the arcadian wild #me running my mouth #<- that will be the tag for uncategorized ramblings #here and on activate-shadow-of-the-window

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doom-dreaming · 8 months

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The More The Merrier: Ch. 2 - Preparation

“I’m being taken out for drinks.”

“You make it sound like you weren’t given a choice.”

“I wasn’t.” Sarah had always assumed the whole “butterflies in your stomach” thing was reserved for teenagers passing their crushes in middle school hallways, so she’s not entirely sure why she’s feeling it now. People offered to buy her drinks all the time. Hell, she usually accepted. Free alcohol, right? But something about their insistence had been so… God, what was the word…

“Who would be so bold?” Tom jokes, still not looking up from the datapad in his hands, oblivious to the metaphorical insects in Sarah's gut.

“Kelly and Linda.”

That does it. She sees his head pop up in her periphery. “As in...Blue Team Kelly and Linda?”

“Do you know any others?”

“...that seems strangely sociable of them.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” She runs her fingers through her hair. Was that too much? Should she just pull it back like she always did? She huffs, reaching for the elastic band she’d just taken out.

Slowly, Lasky’s attention returns to the datapad. “When are you going?”

“Tonight.”

“Ah. And…is that why you’ve been standing in front of the mirror for ten minutes?”

“It hasn’t been—” she checks her watch. “Whatever. Hair up or down?”

He sighs. Sets the datapad on the table. Rubs at his eyes. “Do whatever’s comfortable, Sarah. Am I missing something here? You don’t usually put this much effort into…” he gestures toward her.

Before she can answer, the room's holotank glows a brilliant gold and Roland’s avatar appears in a swirling flourish, arms crossed, looking suspiciously cheerful. “Based on the elevated heart rates of all three Spartans during the time of their conversation, I’d say you’re missing something significant, Captain.”

Two seconds tick by. To Sarah, it feels like two years.

Roland grins.

Tom blinks. “Sarah, is this a date?”

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t considered the possibility. “If that’s what it turns into, I won’t complain,” she concedes with a shrug and a gentle glare in the direction of the holotank. “But I wasn’t gonna mention that part unless it actually went somewhere—thanks, Roland.”

“You’re welcome!”

Tom’s face morphs into something close to that kicked-dog look he got when his usual strategies of garnering sympathy weren’t working. “I know we keep things pretty open between us, but do we need to talk? Am I not enough for you anymore?”

Oh, a joke. She bites her tongue for a second as the word she’d been searching for earlier comes screaming to the forefront of her brain. Arousing. Their insistence had been arousing. Suddenly, the butterflies make sense…and instantly become wasps. “You know I haven’t fucked anyone my own size since I became a Spartan?” She might as well approach this for what it was. Or what it could be. What she wanted it to be? "...Miller doesn't count."

Some of the surprise drains from Tom’s posture at the mention of Miller, replaced by resigned agreement. “No, he doesn’t. But do you really think that’s where this is going to end up?”

“Again, wouldn’t say no if it’s offered.”

“...that’d be something to see,” Roland mutters.

Sarah turns on him. “You wanna watch?”

“I—um, meant it more in a rhetorical sense, Commander. But…of course, if you’re open to the idea…”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay? I don’t know that we’ll be doing anything besides drinking and trading war stories. If—and only if—it ends up being something else…we’ll figure out the logistics." Her eyes flick between Tom and Roland, narrowing on the latter. "Until then, stop getting my hopes up."

"Sure thing—just one question. In the "hypothetical" event that you do end up…involved with the lovely ladies of Blue Team," he makes a big show of miming the quotation marks. "Could I…maybe ride along sometime? Just for curiosity's sake?"

There's a near-simultaneous sigh from both humans in the room. "We let him join us the one time…" Lasky starts.

"Actually, Captain, I've been included in your sexual escapades no less than three separate times and I find it exhilarating—"

"That’s my point.”

"And you can hardly fault me for that!" Roland retorts with mock indignation. The holotank flares brighter. "It's in my nature to seek new experiences and a threesome of Spartans would certainly be—"

"Okay, okay!" Sarah cuts them both off. "Roland, shut up. Right now this is not a date and there is no plan for a threesome. Right now it’s just drinks. Got it?” She doesn’t know who she’s putting more effort into convincing—the two of them or herself.

Roland shifts like he wants to say something but, wisely, stays quiet.

Palmer tightens her ponytail. “Good.”

#halo #my writing #halo fanfic #palmsky #palmer/lasky/roland #kelly/palmer/linda #gonna let this sit on tumblr for a little bit so i can see what i want to change before i put it on ao3 lmao #that's always how it works #god now i have to write ch 3 #let's just say palmer's hair is NOT gonna stay in that ponytail

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dribs-and-drabbles · 7 months

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Observations on ep 12:

Begin Again...are we going to be back where we started...like the tweet in ep 3 suggested?

Top asking the right question - What are Ray and Boeing playing at exactly? Also Ray-pot-calling-the-kettle-black a bit there - he loved Mew and Sand at the same time...at least they addressed it.

Another kiss for the charts! Mond/First! Woop woop!

It's the both hands meme in action!!

And another kiss!! Mond/Khaotung! 🔥

Awww shame they didn't follow through with that.

How can Ray be so sure about Boeing's intentions, and how can Sand trust Boeing?! I don't get it.

Sorry Boston, your degree would be much better than getting these friendships back.

(For a moment there I thought that was Pat's tie-dye vest 😅)

Ok Nick and Boston are adorable.

I think Nick is Mark's best role to date. And also Boston for Neo too.

It's cute that Ray wants to defend Sand but Sand shouldn't be kept in the dark about what Boeing did with Top and Mew.

Aaaaaand there's another shirt I saw in another show earlier today...one more for the Thai Communal Wardrobe collection!

Mew using his manipulative ability for good.

Oh that was actually delicious. I love that Sand got behind the dog metaphor.

Oh god the opposites... Pat 'I always let my boyfriend win' and Ray 'I always win' 😂

I really hope Nick knows they're in an open relationship. But also... Yet another kiss! Mond/Neo! Mond is going to leapfrog all these other men in the charts 😂 @ranchthoughts - not to sound weird but I always think of you when these actors/actresses kiss 😂

They did talk...so Nick just needs to get in there and we'll finally get the threesome the show has been hinting at.

Awww shucks. Now Nick's upset. Maybe he should have chosen Dan... Maybe he will? Can we go back to adorable Nick/Boston??

I've sort of been in Nick's position and I think the best thing for him is to end things with Boston already, and not because of the promiscuity, but because it's harder to end something later when you have grown even more attached to them.

Aaaaaand yet another item of clothing from the Thai Communal Wardrobe...I'll need time to figure out where I've seen this one before though...

Didn't Boston stop Mew in a previous ep just like that in the kitchen? Or was it different characters?

The BEST dare. Again, Mew using his devilishness for good. Because we get...

ANOTHER KISS! First/Force!! 🎉

I feel like JoJo is being Oprah with this ep - 'You get a kiss. And you get a kiss. YOU ALL GET KISSES!

And I feel like their clothes are more back to how they were at the start...maybe only Nick (and a little bit Boston) feel like there hasn't been a return. And maybe that reflects the way these couples have ended up - whether we like it or not - and also does sort of imply that the tweet in ep 3 was sort of foreshadowing. And maybe Nick and Boston in lighter colours and against that lighter background suggests more of a fresh start and freedom for them, as difficult as it might feel now (and as much as we're not happy with this conclusion)... Edit: I posted this then read this brilliant post by @jemmo with fantastic tags by @grapejuicegay which feels like it explains this little interpretation much better.

A peck!? We only got a peck from April and Cheum?! smh

I think Mew's being a bit harsh with Boston...but also Boston is better off without them tbh. Go to New York and live your best life.

MIIIIIIIIIIX!!! The BEST ending. Absolutely A+. And @grapejuicegay wrote so well on why it was so good. And damn, he looked good (but also wearing something that's been used before 😂).

#only friends #only friends the series #ofts #ofts ep 12

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banamine-bananime · 3 months

Text

preface: i was writing a list of my headcanons for funsies and got completely derailed with angsty grimmons shit that needs to be scooped out of that post because it’s stupid long. so here

grif worked in honolulu a couple years after hs graduation until kai was old enough (17) he felt he could leave. did a year at university before realizing he’s smart enough to be admitted to cornell but not to get the scholarship he realistically needs to not be in crushing debt on graduation, and also there’s not nearly enough regimentation to college life to prevent him from rotting in bed paralyzed by “oh my god i don’t have Responsibilities That Need To Be Done Right Now for the first time in forever and idk what to do now” and executive dysfunction. went through basic and stationed on the doomed outpost. That Whole Thing (a polite way of saying “sneaking off for a nap on duty, sleeping through a massacre, and waking up to find literally everyone else dead”) was the nail in the coffin that pretty much shot his last shred of motivation and hope to shit, and based on his behaviour and psych eval afterwards (best summarized as “learned helplessness that everything is shit always and he’s useless and never gonna be able to help anyone so 👍 fuck everything fuck everyone just try to eke some hedonistic joy out of life before you die”) he was reassigned to the sim soldiers.

meanwhile simmons tried to do university several times and had to drop out for mental health reasons (a very polite way of putting “rapid spiral into absolute disaster every time”. it leaves room for giving him the benefit of the doubt that this was a proactive “ah i should take care of myself and this is not working for me :) #selfcare #therapy” decision. this is not benefit of the doubt that anyone who knows him would extend.).

I go back and forth on whether to roll with the “that one throwaway line with a suspiciously specific hypothetical of being in a unit that was stranded and had to eat their dog to survive” thing or just say he was assigned straight to sim troopers. on the one hand, i really love grif and simmons having a parallel immensely traumatic first assignment that made them both Worse in kinda similar kinda opposite ways in line with the ways they were each already fucked up

(grif “life is inherently a garbage fire. i am useless. all i can do is look out for myself and save my own hide by absolute never trusting any authority, refusing to get attached to the other fuckers around here (they’d hate me anyways so just let them hate me), and obsessively hoarding any access to food and shelter and comfort because Maslow said I can’t work on health or belonging or esteem until i do :/ yeah i know, sorry, i’ve got a doctor’s note from him right here.” vs simmons “my life is a garbage fire probably because everyone around me is an idiot fucking something up but also because i’m not trying hard enough. i’m sure if i keep Performing The Maladaptive Behaviours even harder they will work and i THEN will feel respected and powerful and loved. you see you just have to keep repressing every feeling so you can suck up to anyone you detect a whiff of Authority Figure on no matter how little you actually respect them, and follow EVERY RULE and work and work and work. and you had better abandon any compunctions about things like eating a dog you loved or backstabbing a friend for brownie points from the CO who hates him or Literally Murdering your CO for a promotion. and if you ever stop desperately trying, fighting dirty looking out just for yourself, and instead just sit still for a moment and enjoy sincere zero-ulterior-motives connections with people, you will probably definitely immediately die of starvation or exposure (it is a metaphor you see. of exposure to the elements while stranded without resources. for the agonizing exposure of allowing yourself to be known.)”)

on the other hand i’m like whoa now. this boy’s got enough problems we really don’t need to be giving him any more or we’re really never gonna pry him free of the woobiefication fics.

#rvb #red vs blue #dexter grif #dick simmons #alexa send post #grif #simmons

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unholyverse · 11 months

Note

travis is doing what now???

congrats. or not. you made it to part 2 of my explanation/summary of that. you can find part 1 here.

cw: some (not too graphic but still present) smut written by a guy who is friends with the people in this fic + discussion of religion in a very general metaphor way

this is the part i'm warning you about the smut and general nightmare feeling: chapter 4: brainwashed

in his author's note, travis wishes readers happy pride (if this is pride, i feel wrath) and starts questioning whether he should be continuing the fic (should've questioned that a long time ago) and then admitting he wrote 30 FUCKING PAGES for this chapter.

this chapter takes place over the course of a week, starting with awsten and geoff on a date where they start getting to know each other. geoff starts saying how he's working on a project in this place where he's interviewing people about their relationship to the in universe equivalent to christianity or some abrahamic religion if you add the pokémon knockoffs to them. so they get into a conversation about theology that was like reading the glup shitto post but religious bc seriously i don't know or care about these stupid fantasy names.

so then after all this they go to geoff's apartment to have fade to black sex that's only implied in the second day section.

unfortunately some of the smut is not fade to black from this point forward.

awstens horny wants more dick and geoff's just trying to get breakfast for them which prompts this scene.

is this a good time to remind you that travis is writing this about the friends he has in real life. he knows these people. personally.

thank you travis for restoring my faith in my smut writing abilities 🙏 because now i know at least i'm not writing scenes like these about my irls.

ok back to the fic they have SHOWER SEX after that and we also have to read that for some reason.

so after that they watch some old show together and awsten asks if geoff has any pets and this is the part where i find out there’s normal animals and pokémon ripoffs in this universe which is weird.

geoff summons a recreation of his dog for a bit (that’s a thing i forgot to mention that mostly bc i do not care) and the day ends with him musing on that saying he misses his dog.

the third day section is a literal paragraph about them having fade to black sex. that’s it for that.

the fourth day section finds awsten going home for an hour to pick up new clothes to stay at geoff’s more and after that him and geoff go on a date outside.

it’s this point when geoff asks awsten if he can interview him for his project about people’s relationships with religion. awsten says yes, but pretty reluctantly.

so they get on with the interview which gradually gets awsten more uncomfortable with the personal questions.

this entire part is travis’ heavy handed way of approaching religious themes that are supposed to be in the album and my god does the allegory feel as heavy handed as the sparse religious references in intellectual property. considering this is a universe where travis tends to ignore things he’s not comfortable with writing for whatever reason (cough cough otto), i think considering this is a universe where all his friends are gay and yknow. the general relationship between gay people and religious can be pretty complex it just makes me wonder the implications of leaving that out too. if the topic got too real.

anyways.

awsten cuts off the interview and geoff starts opening up about his life which just means travis airs out the shit geoff has been going through for the past couple years minus the polycule.

is this a good time to note that geoff’s dog irl is named eevee (renamed here for obvious reasons) and said dog is still actually with his ex and kid. travis why are you airing this out and at what point in writing this chapter did it dawn upon you that this was a bad idea.

this section just ends in awsten wondering what else he doesn’t know about and then they make out.

the fifth day section starts with geoff trying to cook them food after the umpteenth time of them fucking. geoff makes a light joke that his cooking is only world famous to his daughter which makes the lines after that 10x worse

everything about this is actually terrible. the fact that geoff was trying to cook naked. “giving Geoff’s penis a light tap”. MANHOOD????

so anyways they cook a grilled cheese together and they talk and geoff ends up dropping that he’s seeing a pokemon knockoff tournament with a guy named pulo, another travis oc. geoff says they’re not exclusive or anything but awsten still feels like shit bc he probably thought him and geoff were at least. ouch.

the sixth day section is awsten musing about the new geoff revelations but then ending up having fade to black sex with him anyways.

the final section (of this chapter but. god that was long) is awsten finally leaving geoff’s apartment after a week there. meaning they make out for a long time at the door before awsten has to leave.

i can’t believe someone who knows both of them wrote this entire thing about them and posted it online. it genuinely baffles me how travis didn’t cancel writing the fic here before he could post it. but if you know what happened before next chapter posted, you’d know why he went on with this.

so travis lives in austin, texas (it’s the only way he can say he’s in awsten and it’s true). and so for the austin show, him, jawn, and zakk all got onstage for war crimes wearing something awsten had and travis was reveling this especially towards the end when he was hugging awsten and taking his damn time presumably whiffing him as much as he could under his mask.

and then this happens.

travis just gets to shake awstens ass in front of this audience twice 😭😭😭 might i remind you this is a show that rivers cuomo attended without anyone knowing until the day after.

so yeah that happens and then travis gets brought up again for awsten to hold him like a doll while he plays cherry red for travis to horribly sing.

so after this, i was like travis is either going to go home and jack off to this or he’s going to write the next fic chapter and i was definitely right about one of those things but still probably right about the other.

so now we’re here to the most recent part of this which is chapter 5: 2 best friends.

awstens all bummed about geoff hanging out with pulo so he goes out with travis and jawn to take his mind off things. the entire chapter is essentially travis being a very ooc party boy drunk (bc i think travis realizes how lame and nerdy his actual personality is) while him, awsten, and jawn all hang out and do dumb shit.

ok with that out of the way lemme just say it does not feel like i’m reading three different characters it just feels like i’m reading travis, travis, and drunk travis.

so anyways they all do shit but it doesn’t keep awsten from thinking about geoff in the end.

oh but that’s not everything nope not at all bc the ending is awsten and jawn. HOOKING UP.

oh my god. considering how awsten has slept with most of the male population in this fic except travis, i feel like travis writing this is just fueling some cuck fetish of his bc WHAT THE HELL IS ANY OF THIS SERIOUSLY.

anyways that’s all i have :) this fandom and the people involved with parx are actually insane on so many different levels i didn’t know were possible. i just want to interrogate travis for everything about this fic (with a knife in my hand)

#travis fic post #sydmarch #confessionals

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demoniccak-e · 4 months

Text

proving ever hozier song is good omens

first album: hozier (expanded edition)

Take Me to Church

My lover's got humor She's the giggle at a funeral Knows everybody's disapproval I should've worshiped her sooner:

The way that Crowley is, as a demon, seen as the bad guy. That that's what his image is supposed to be and taking it from like the demon's and the angel's pov, Aziraphale finds that intriguing. (he does but not in the way that the angels/demons are thinking). The Aziraphale sees Crowley isn't the fact that he's evil and like he's bad but he finds that the way he bends the rules, or does what is seen more as morally good. That's the part that Aziraphale likes and that's what Crowley's evil his to him. (This probably sounds like nonsense but like stick w me here)

If the Heavens ever did speak She's the last true mouthpiece Every Sunday's getting more bleak A fresh poison each week "We were born sick", you heard them say it:

I think that this can be seen either way, either how they were going to execute Aziraphale for being w Crowley or as Crowley being casted down to hell because she was not worthy or good enough to be an angel. Heaven saw the two of them as poison.

My church offers no absolutes She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom" The only Heaven I'll be sent to Is when I'm alone with you:

I think this could be applied to both of them but it resonates more with Crowley because like "my church offers no absolutes" is like saying that "Heaven doesn't actually know a good or evil, they only see things in black and white" but the gray that Crowley sees is that "The only Heaven I'll be sent to / Is when I'm alone with you" That Aziraphale is Crowley's idea of Heaven yeah sure in a romantic way but also like it's actually giving "angel" a description.

I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well A-, Amen, Amen, Amen:

Whenever I hear this line I always think about the season one ending, the one where their dining together. That they just want each other's company, that their "sickness" that heaven claimed that they had wasn't really a bad thing. It was just them, they were fine with it. They didn't feel sick. (Lovesick? Absolutely.)

[chorus]

Take me to church I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife Offer me that deathless death Good God, let me give you my life:

The first 2 lines, I think about Crowley obvs, like he's heard so many lies about Heaven or like the "truths" that Heaven gives. That there is only good and bad. And the fact that their idea of "bad" was asking a couple of completely valid questions is like- insane. Just insane. Then the last 3 lines I think about Aziraphale, like that day where they sat on that rock. He was ready to go to Hell, and he was probably ready to give up his existence that day when he didn't know what Agnes's last prophecy meant. Like their both ready to drop everything for the other and the reason that they aren't together after season two is because they never told each other that. (miscommunications)

If I'm a pagan of the good times My lover's the sunlight To keep the Goddess on my side She demands a sacrifice Drain the whole sea Get something shiny:

I think this part is sort of how Aziraphale sees what Crowley is saying during the confession scene. I think that Crowley was asking for him to make a choice, him or heaven. This is sort of the miscommunication part of it.

Something meaty for the main course That's a fine looking high horse What you got in the stable?:

This feels like the Crowley part to me for some reason, like the part where like he's like frustrated that Aziraphale won't let him talk but what are you saying rn (I have no idea if this makes sense or not)

We've a lot of starving faithful That looks tasty That looks plenty This is hungry work:

When Aziraphale wants that life with Crowley. He wants to take his hand and runway. And it's also like that metaphor, that Aziraphale never knew he was starving, he never knew he was starved of pleasure. And it's also what I think Aziraphale views his love for Crowley is, like "hungry work".

[chorus again]

No masters or kings when the ritual begins There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene Only then I am human Only then I am clean Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen:

I think that this is sort of what I think season three is, like not the part where they're not talking but if they were (THEY WILL) to make up, then it would sort of be the realization that they're not actually doing something wrong, they're just wanting to be together and just enjoy each other without the fear that some danger will come after them.

[chorus]

first song done my god

#good omens #aziracrow #hozier

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esthermitchell-author · 7 months

Text

(1/6) The Stars Within His Wings (Fan Fiction based on Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett)

Part I: Too Near the Sun

Rome -- 41 AD

He lied to Aziraphale. He hadn't come to Rome for any temptation -- well, except maybe his own. He'd been following a bronze sculpture around the Mediterranean for almost three hundred years, now. He'd first encountered it in Thebes, in a bronzeworker's shop. It'd captivated him, the muscular forms of what gave every appearance of being unclothed angels -- one whose wings shimmered with the golden rays of Heaven's light, the other flashing with the burning red arch of Hell.

The bronzeworker -- a talented young man whose name Crowley hadn't bothered to learn at the time -- noticed his interest and explained the piece was Icarus and Apollo, with Apollo gripping Icarus's golden wings as he moved to toss him further into the sky, to burn up and die in the sun's burning rays.

Crowley hadn't bothered to correct him that the sun couldn't be reached from Earth's atmosphere. He'd been too entranced, his mind filled with thoughts he had no business entertaining. An angel, whose wings shone with golden flashes in the sunlight, and whose hair was even more blond, until it was almost white.

In that instant, he had to have it. When he enquired on the price, the artisan told him it was commissioned by an Athenian politician. Crowley stopped listening after that. He was already devising plans of how to get his hands on the statue. He'd even considered just taking it and disappearing. Something about it wouldn't let him just steal it, though. He swore he heard Aziraphale's voice, chiding him that he was better than that.

Now, Crowley snorted at the idea of an angel on his shoulder. That was for humans. His was a voice -- a memory from the courtyard of Job's home -- and the desire to be worthy in a pair of cerulean eyes. He wasn't even sure why that mattered, but it did.

Still, he couldn't get the irrational obsession with the statue out of his head. Something kept him hunting it, up until eight years ago. Seeing Aziraphale at Golgotha had broken something in him. Knowing why he was there -- why they were both there -- had burned like that metaphorical sun he'd been chasing all these years. God's willful desire to kill a young man with a bright future -- a man who truly believed himself to be God's son -- angered Crowley to the point he hadn't even been able to trust Aziraphale. He hadn't even been able to accept the angel he knew wouldn't kill innocents wasn't there out of some kind of misplace, zealous glee. Until he flung that insult in Aziraphale's face.

"Come to smirk at the poor bugger, have you?"

Why he said it, he didn't know, other than he wanted to hurt one of God's brainwashed little cretins as badly as what was happening hurt him. Only, Aziraphale wasn't brainwashed or a cretin, was he? They had a fair amount in common, he and the daft, innocent angel. Maybe that's why he kept snapping at Aziraphale like a wounded dog. He wanted the angel to take away a pain no one could.

He couldn't say that, though, so he just snarled and tried to get the angel to go away. At least that way, he couldn't ruin one more life that was just fine until he got hold of it. He lied and focused his attention on the only thing he could keep. The statue. He knew where it was being kept, and he was going to have it, once and for all. Maybe then the strange sensation he experienced whenever Aziraphale was around would go quiet.

Maybe then he would stop feeling like he was spiraling toward a star set to turn him to ash.

******

Crowley's Flat, Mayfair, London -- Night after Armagedidn't (Approx 2000 years later)

Aziraphale didn't want to admit how badly seeing that eagle sculptured pulpit from the church rattled him -- especially not to Crowley. That would mean explaining thoughts and feelings he'd been trying to hide for over 6000 years. Scandalous thoughts he was sure would mean his fall if Heaven ever caught wind of them.

Even worse... Aziraphale drew a still-unsteady breath. Even worse, since the night of the church bombing in 1941, he'd begun to wonder if he even cared about getting caught or falling, anymore. More and more often, when he looked at Crowley, he only wondered what life would be like if he was brave enough to just tell his oldest and dearest friend the truth -- starting with I don't mean it when I say we aren't friends and ending with I love you. More than Heaven. More than life. Can you ever love me back?

He winced. Lately, the only thing holding him back was imagining Crowley laughing at him, telling him that it was a good joke, and how funny it would be if they really did feel that way about each other. Of all Crowley's jokes over the millennia, that one would be the cruelest, because if he bared his soul only to have Crowley laugh off his feelings, he... well, he wasn't quite sure what he would do, but he knew he couldn't recover from that. Their friendship couldn't recover from that.

If he took that step, he needed Crowley to love him back. No one else ever had.

Feeling out of his depths, Aziraphale made his way back into the plant room, feeling a little more at peace surrounded by living things. The rest of Crowley's flat felt dark and lifeless. How could the demon stand living like this?

Aziraphale mourned his lost books. He mourned the loss of all the small things he'd collected over the millennia. Not the items themselves, of course, but the memories. He could touch any item in his bookshop and instantly recall the events it memorialized. After all, after 6000 years, one couldn't be expected to recall every detail of one's life without some kind of reminder. And now they were all gone.

He paused, hands clasped behind his back and his chin tipped down in consideration as he realized the only memories he could instantly recall, unprompted, all dealt with the demon whose flat he was currently pacing.

No surprise. He--

"Angel, where'd you go?" Crowley's voice preceded his entry into the room. The sight of his apologetic smile as he leaned against the doorframe sent Aziraphale's heartbeat skittering with feelings he repressed by rote, now. "Here you are, then. Sorry the place is so bare. Didn't really see the point in decorating it when I was never here."

Aziraphale turned his head, looking away, before he said something he'd regret. His gaze fell on a strange shape at the end of the short hallway on the other side of the room. Whatever it was, it'd been covered with what looked like a blanket, like Crowley was trying to hide it.

"What's down there?" He started forward.

Instantly, he sensed alarm from Crowley -- something else he'd never been able to explain to himself were the flashes of emotion he always picked up from the demon. Doubtful Crowley would be happy knowing Aziraphale could sometimes sense what he was feeling. Especially when those feelings just further confused the angel.

"That's nothing," Crowley muttered, moving quickly past him to block the hallway. "Doesn't even belong to me. I keep it covered so I don't have to look at it."

"Oh, can I see?" Intrigued, Aziraphale tried to move past him. However, doing so would require touching, and the angel was feeling far too vulnerable to get that close to Crowley, right now.

"'Fraid not, angel. It wouldn't interest you, anyway. Absolutely tasteless artwork."

Aziraphale eyed the demon warily, quite aware Crowley was lying to him, but just not quite sure why. Still, it wasn't his place, and Crowley was being so kind to let him stay here. "Oh, very well. What do you propose we do to pass the time?"

A strange look passed over Crowley's face, but it was gone so quickly Aziraphale couldn’t be sure he even saw it correctly, before the demon swallowed hard and muttered, "I have some of that wine you like. I'll open that and we can talk, yeah?"

Aziraphale repressed the urge to sigh, not sure he had much else to say, after the events of recent days. "Oh, I suppose. Thank you, Crowley. You're a good friend."

He couldn't help noticing the demon didn't correct him, this time.

******

Crowley's Flat, Mayfair, London -- 2 Hours After The Kiss (4 years later)

Crowley sprawled on the garish, burgundy-colored crushed-velvet monstrosity of a sofa Shax deemed fitting furniture and grimaced drunkenly at the plethora of mirrors hung all over the place before tipping the bottle of whiskey he held to his lips again, trying to wash away the memory of his angel's kiss. Of that little, needy whimper that told him Aziraphale wasn't as unaffected by the kiss as those three stinging words he uttered afterward.

I forgive you.

"Fuck." He dropped his head back, his eyes closed, as he ripped away the shades he somehow forgot he was wearing until just now. He'd been so desperate to just get so drunk he couldn't think, or remember anything, he hadn't cared about whether or not he could see.

He held it together the whole way back to this depressing flat -- he refused to call it home -- before the shaking started. Like an earthquake that ran every fault line from his soul outward, it had rattled through him, dropping him in the foyer. He'd crawled -- crawled -- in here and up onto the sofa, stopping over and over to pour alcohol down his throat. The alcohol was the only thing currently numbing the painful, empty throb in his chest.

He rubbed the heel of his hand roughly against the center of his chest, hissing at the emptiness behind his breastbone. It opened up the instant the doors to the lift closed, and it steadily carved the canyon through his chest he felt now. Like something vital to life ripped away the instant Aziraphale was gone.

How had he never noticed, before? There'd been plenty of times he and Aziraphale hadn't been near each other. Yet the only times he could even vaguely recall feeling like this were when Aziraphale got temporarily discorporated during the Antichrist incident and when he got dragged back to Hell after Edinburgh. He'd mourned when he thought Aziraphale was gone forever, and never been so relieved as when he realized his angel was just discorporated, and eventually made it back to Earth. As for Edinburgh, he'd just assumed at the time that the emptiness was a normal response to drying out in fucking Hell. Still, he hadn't wasted any time contacting his angel once he was back on Earth, had he?

He'd been so relieved to see Aziraphale, that time, he'd wanted to make absolutely sure Hell could never pull him back again. He'd wanted leverage. Holy water hadn't seemed an unreasonable solution, and he'd thought Aziraphale would be only too happy to help.

Had he ever been wrong. Instead of insurance against Hell, he'd alienated his only friend. Aziraphale refused to speak to him even when he tried to apologize. So, angry at himself for alienating his friend, he'd considered the best suitable response to just go to sleep for the next forty-ish or so years. Would've kept sleeping, too, if his brief break from sleeping in 1914 hadn't involved learning Hell intended to do away with his angel.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He groaned, now, pitching himself forward to pound his forehead against the heels of his hands, the nearly empty whiskey bottle landing with a totally unsatisfying thump on the ridiculous faux-fur rug.

Not that he cared how bad Shax's taste in decor was.

"I need a plan," he muttered to himself. Yet, he didn't have a fucking clue what kind of plan there was to make, aside from spending the next thousand years or so getting utterly wasted. He already knew if he tried to sleep, he'd just dream of Aziraphale. Now that the bag was quite utterly devoid of cats, merely thinking the angel's name made him ache to the depths of his Hell-scorched soul.

There was nothing he could do, this time. Aziraphale made his choice. He chose Heaven. He chose an angel that no longer existed -- hadn't existed in over 6000 years.

And Crowley couldn't breathe, anymore.

#good omens #good omens fandom #aziracrow #azicrow #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable spouses #fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens s2

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bolton-buried · 4 days

Text

Statement of Jackie Crow, regarding a “deep puddle.” Statement taken direct from subject, May 21st, 2024. Statement begins.

It wasn’t even supposed to be raining that day. I don’t know why that stands out to me so much, but it shouldn’t have been raining at all. Deep breaths. Step back. Okay.

I used to work with debts. The exact kind isn’t important, but suffice to say it was large amounts of money for the most useless products you would ever see. I’m talking MLM type stuff. “Oh, Jackie, it’s a vacuum cleaner it’s not useless” it’s also not worth $5,000.

I lived in Minnesota, up north of Lake Superior. You probably don’t know where that is. So, the fact that I’m here in London at all? I’ll get to that. Sorry.

This started while I was watching a streamer on twitch. He plays games, but another thing he does is live reactions to some really weird videos. They’re almost always of a person drowning in a body of water, a river, lake maybe. I didn’t like those ones so much, I always felt like I couldn’t breathe while they were playing, but that day…

It was me in the video. Sure, it’s hard to make out features through the water, and it’s got this broken-camera effect on it, but clear as day, that was me. Drowning in a river, lake, whathaveyou. I tried to chalk it up to coincidence, but… it itched. In my head. Didn’t help that my job was starting to get hectic, and I was starting to look for a way out.

I mean, have you seen the US job market? Just thinking of that sheer amount of pressure, that force, a tidal wave of change that feels like it could swallow you whole if you let it. That’s terrifying enough.

I was let go from the company soon after. They must have seen me getting my resume out, because “inappropriate dress for work” is the most bullshit excuse I’ve ever heard if you’ve seen what I wear. I stepped outside, exposed to every metaphorical force of the world, and like a scene from a movie, it was raining cats and dogs out there. Things in hand, I started to walk.

I saw two men on the sidewalk near me. One of them—the one in the black trench coat—handed the other an umbrella, then stood in the rain himself. And then—I’d think it was a trick of the light if it weren’t for what happened to me afterwards.

He let himself tip backwards to fall, like a trustfall exercise with no one to catch him, but instead of cracking his head on the pavement, he fell into a puddle and just. Kept going.

He vanished through what should have been solid ground. I was still processing the fall, and started to run to help, stepping out into the street.

And the next thing I know, I’m in over my head in icy rainwater. I think I stepped in another one of those puddles. Maybe. I don’t remember it well down there.

I remember cold water around me. Struggling to hold my breath. Rough stone walls that scraped at my sides. And a current. God, when I hit the current, it was like a truck hit me. I was caught in an endless flow and could do nothing to stop myself from being forced against those walls, tearing at my skin, pushing in on my lungs harder. All too close. I couldn’t breathe. And I couldn’t hold my breath either.

Again, my memory is fuzzy, but I think I stayed like that for a while, trapped in the current. I think I stopped holding my breath at some point—it felt like hours. But I couldn’t have. I’d have drowned. And I feel like I was struggling to hold in my air the whole time.

I think I fell unconscious. I remember seeing some of my friends, reaching out, calling me to them. And I remember reaching out, and then waking up on a street in London.

You guys work with this stuff, right? You can fix it, or, I don’t know. Something. There has to be something you all can do.

I need to get a new job. Funny, the things you think about when it all comes crashing down. Are y’all hiring?

Statement ends.

#tma rp #tma rp blog #unreality

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void-galaxy-shenanigans · 2 years

Text

Y’all. I’m so frustrated.

I know I’m autistic & it’s not actually my fault. But...

Nonverbal/non-speaking.

If there is not a severe punishment attached to force me to speak aloud, I...can’t.

(severe punishment is relative...being yelled at, being verbally degraded, being swung at even if I don’t actually get h!t, being fed any of our sensory no foods...those are all severe, not just full ab*se)

I don’t mean I’m mute all the time. I physically could speak (99% of the time, there are exceptions).

I mean I mentally can’t.

As in, (a) head empty no thoughts (brain only has capacity for very basic functions & I can barely play very easy mobile games that are pattern based), (b) can only stim via singing, cannot form coherent language aloud, (c) brain thinking in pictures, couldn’t translate it to words aloud no matter how hard I try, (d) brain thinking in a mix of every language I know but I couldn’t translate it all into any one language or make it make sense if I spoke it, (e) brain is thinking in consistent English, but I can’t make it make sense if I spoke it, (f) brain has deleted any & all information on all languages we know & I can’t retrieve it; I forgot route was a word today & got frustrated trying to play a game because it's a crossword type puzzle & I needed to know that was a real word, (g) all languages sound like gibberish or Simlish aloud & I can’t mimic that language to save my life, or (h) “thoughts go so fast, brain no perceive; head look empty...head too full”, & I can’t speak it because can’t maintain grip on any thoughts.

Sometimes I do actually go mute, from anxiety or exhaustion or shutdown. But usually I could speak somehow...but can’t make it make sense, or some other struggle.

& gods, it’s so frustrating.

I love language. I love to communicate, to be understood (or as closely understood as possible), to learn language...I love seeing the joy as people realize you speak their language & they don’t have to translate / have their kid(s) translate.

I love talking.

But if I am not at work (will get fired if I don’t at least script), around ab*sive people who will punish me, or around someone who makes me feel like I must speak....I have max an hour a day that I can speak without it draining me & steadily declining in clarity.

Yet allistics assume if you’re quiet it’s because you’re not saying something mean (‘if you don’t have something nice to say don’t say anything at all’), or because you’re tired of them or angry at them or something else negative. They don’t assume you have no words or ran out of words.

It takes so much energy to translate my brain into something verbal, let alone anything that makes sense & is even mildly grammatically correct.

I can write all day long, but never being able to speak aloud without difficulty is...frustrating, & getting old fast.

I’ve been home alone for roughly 6 days (since Friday morning last week), minus about 16 hours Sunday to Monday (parents came back from one trip, slept, then went to visit family). Our dog understands nonverbal communication so I don’t *need* to speak. & it’s very quickly getting old how draining talking is.

I forget whole names exist until I see them again. I forget words exist regularly. Real words often look fake or sound made up even if they’re real language.

I’m an author. I love to communicate. (My love for writing might be why I communicate so effectively in writing but not aloud 🤷‍♂️.) But I tend to not be able to speak.

& people like me aren’t generally represented in media. The ones who speak, but only extremely limited...yet have a wide vocabulary full of metaphors that they grew to love & are learning every language they can get their hands on (español, deutsch, français, Russian....) just for the love of language & communication.

Maybe that’s why I love stories where all the characters have a limited number of words every day, tell people they aren’t worth wasting words on, & character A may tell character C (often a cheating ex) to fuck off before spending all their words for that day to connect with character B (often a love interest). Because I do have limited words, but people don’t assume I’m out of words or “just didn’t get words today”. Because in that kind of world I wouldn’t be so alone. People wouldn’t assume I’m stupid or unintelligent/retarded, or infantilize me, or otherwise misunderstand my lack of verbal words. They wouldn’t assume me communicating via vague noises meant I was condescending them or didn’t care.

Living in a neurotypical, allistic world when you can’t speak or can barely speak is exhausting.

& I know it isn’t my fault. I’m autistic, & I’m still proud to be autistic. But...I just wish I didn’t have to struggle so much.

~Nico

#autistic adult #autist #autistic #actually autistic #autistic masking #autistic spectrum #ableism #cw ableist language #autism spectrum disorder #autistic pride #nonverbal #non speaking #non-speaking #non-verbal #non verbal

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