Benches
In most of the bench scenes, these two are on the far apart, sitting at the edges of the bench.
That’s why I adore this scene:
Crowley is almost to the edge, but Aziraphale’s invading Crowley’s personal space for once. Sooooo sweet ❤️
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No, but you don't understand, Technus is so fucking funny, and without even trying. Like, imagine telling somebody about his whole deal, it'd be a trainwreck lmao.
"So there's this ghost who can control all kinds of technology."
"Okay."
"He looks like an off brand cosplay of Nikola Tesla and can and will villain monologue you to death."
"Yeah, okay, continue."
"One of his plans of world domination was fully dependant on making his favourite enemies-to-lovers ship canon."
"I'm sorry, what."
The most outrageous thing, tho! The thing that drives me up the wall!! Is that his convoluted plans work like clockwork!!! If Sam wasn't an MVP that she is, then Technus' plan to take over the internet by playing a fucking videogame would have been successful. Combining Technus' technology and Skulker's mastery with weapons was a real pro gamer move, and they did almost beat Danny's ass in under 5 minutes. His plan to distract both Danny and Valerie by matchmaking them was stupid as fuck and yet it fucking worked!! How the fuck did it work.
His downfalls are literally 1) his arrogance, and 2) simple dumb bad luck. The reason why he and Skulker failed was because they both were pretentious fucks and were too prideful to cooperate with each other properly despite literally sharing a body. And if Danny and Valerie were a little less afraid of the other getting hurt, he'd have succeeded there, like, for real-real.
His failings more often than not are really just unlucky coincidencies. What a loser lmao.
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🎀
⚠️ cw: smut (⚤)
Jay tying you up with those little ribbon thingies he wears around his wrists sometimes.
Or better yet...
You tying Jay to your four poster bed with his own ribbons after forcing him to take off his muzzle and vigilante gear, strip down to only his red jock and thigh holsters, so you can grind against his dripping cock while he whines pitifully through his ball gag. A helpless damsel in distress at your mercy.
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soap and ghost work out together and the second they enter the gym, ghost knows his sergeant’s in a mood. he’s got a comment for everything; poking at ghost’s form and his entire routine, shamelessly checking him out in the mirrors and practically ignoring his own work out until he gets to the weight bench.
soap plops himself on ghost’s hips with a paper-thin excuse of playing his spotter and chats shit about how much he’s lifting for his entire set. “that the best you got?”, “thought you were here for a workout, lt.”, “careful, lookin’ a lil’ shaky there, sir,” until ghost finally sets the bar back on the rack and orders him to switch places.
soap settles under the bar, ghost sitting heavy and imposing on his hips as he looks down at him. he doesn’t look taunting or irritated, he’s blanker than ever and soap just smirks back and lifts the bar.
and fuck is it heavy, more than he ever lifts, but soap’s always put his money where his mouth is and he refuses to put it back up until he gets at least ten reps in. he’s pushing to hide the shake in his arms as the set crawls by, huffing out harsh breaths with every rep, face steadily turning red.
ghost doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even blink as he gets to seven, to eight, to nine-
until the final rep where he crosses his arms over the bar and holds it down.
soap’s eyes widen as he rushes to adjust to the new weight, hands almost slipping as he scrambles to find the new balance point. “christ, lt., what the fuck?” he grunts, the shake in his arms growing worse by the second.
“finish the set, sergeant,” ghost orders, expectant apathy in his voice as he leans heavier on the bar.
he locks his elbows as they attempt to buckle but he can’t move it any higher. “’m fuckin’ tryin’,” he grits out.
he just shakes his head. “i don’t want you to try,” he dismisses. “i want you to lift it.”
sweat pours down soap’s face, panting as he fights against the weight. “ghost-”
ghost stands, pushing down harder as he towers over the bar to get into soap’s face. “lift the fucking bar, sergeant,” he growls.
soap screams as he shoves against ghost’s weight with everything he has until the bar finally slips over the edges of the rack, the entire bench rocking with the force of it settling into place.
his arms flop uselessly back down, hanging either side of the bench completely numb as he pants, too breathless to think as his head spins and his cock throbs.
ghost just pats his reddened cheek as he slings his leg off him and heads over to the exercise bikes; not even sparing a glance at him as he throws out, “‘atta boy, johnny.”
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Bench-Finder
Ever since I adopted Flynn, he’s had a habit of “finding” & showing me benches he comes across. He will excitedly run to the bench & then hang around, watching keenly as I approach, making sure I notice what he’s showing me. Flynn seems quite disappointed if I ignore his find - he’ll hang back by the seat for a time & give me the same expression he might if I refused a request to play.
Over the years, Flynn has even taken to physically herding me towards certain favourite benches - like this one! If I seem like I am going to pass the bench without stopping, Flynn will drift into my path, then stop dead, standing right in front of my feet, body angled strategically so that, in order for me to step around Flynn, I also have to step towards the bench. He is... surprisingly good at pushing you in the way he wants you to go. He’ll do this to one or two of our close friends too.
While generally focused on benches, Flynn also has a remarkable memory for any random place I’ve stopped for a rest... If I once sat on a fallen tree trunk, or a stump, or a wall, or rock, then when we pass that way again - even many weeks later & even if it’s well off the path - Flynn will start trying to usher me that way again. “Here’s your seat, Madam!”
This insistence I regularly stop & sit makes me laugh because Flynn is definitely not doing it because he wants a rest... & I know he also finds me stopping for a break on walks terribly boring. I know this, because generally within a few seconds of me complying & sitting down (& getting observed by the dog!), Flynn decides, “Right. Job done. The human is rested, time to move” & starts hopping about, doing his “Get up, get up, get up!” dance. If that doesn’t work, he’ll try to get me onto my feet & down the path, using his ball as a lure, but that’s another story.
I’d assume Flynn insists I sit (briefly!) because *sometimes* he gets a treat when we stop at a bench but he gets treats regularly while we walk - & I play with him throughout too... So when & why did The Human Must Sit On The Bench become a rule, in Flynn’s collie mind?
He’s a weird little dog.
A weird & manipulative little dog. I think I’ve been trained & I’m not certain what for!!
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