#(actually they said heavens but i like. one or two of them. kind of. sort of. ok only one and it's not even the actual cinnamon roll

[ofieugogyshz]

I'm so mad

I had a dream about some kinda-epic anime movie and I guess it had crossovers and groups with x color association (like how idols have x image color? but not specifically limited to only idol characters)

and in this movie, otoya was part of it, and, at the very end of it during a climatic battle scene, as part of the red color associated squad, Lance joined up too, and both of them got to meet

the image was so clear and colorful and bright in my mind and i could have sworn i'd see gif and image set posts on tumblr if i didnt realize it was fake upon waking up.

also the squealing/screaming in me could NOT be contained when they both interacted. i was squealing and kicking and trying to hide my face while also cheering. all of the feelings at once. like. they just had THE CUTEST SCENE TALKING TOGETHER AND WERE BOTH SO CUTE IN THEIR ANIMATIONS HHHHHH

there were also other characters that joined up in each color-associated, at least 5 diff color squads (note: they were not called that in the movie/dream, but idk what else to call it) and 5 "original" characters for the movie (ie not from other media like otoya and lance are) and at least 4-5 characters per squad during the final showdown. and during a scene when they'd show the ones who made up each squad in like one of those dynamic flash group poses, silver also got the tiniest of cameos, but that was also probably my brain/consciousness coming alert and injecting him at the association of "red" and "son" lol.

sincerely so sad and disappointed that it was not a real thing. do you know how badly i would love to spam this blog and main with images from that scene?

#anyways my son is cute and silly and dorky and precious and my husband is cute and handsome and dorky and i just think it'd be neat #SERIOUSLY IM SO SAD ITS NOT RL SO I CANT JUST SAVE IT ANDNUSE IT AS AN ICON OR BACKGROUND OR SAVE IT SOMEWHERE EVERYWHERE IM SERIOUS #SO. SAD. #i cannot put it into words well enough #also i guess i'll be on an otoya fc/gif kick for awhile bc of watching the movie last week or whatever and im SINCERELY SO SAD. SO. SAD. #i need more/new content and SL is gone and im waiting to hear about new lance content in pokemas and i just love them. my redheaded boys. #but one is my husband of nearly 20 years and one is my son who i adore and will protecc from certain specific dillweeds who deserve a punch #in the face and to live in the dumpster instead of his cushy bs #as my friend put it at the movie ''no. 1 eiichi hater' #(actually they said heavens but i like. one or two of them. kind of. sort of. ok only one and it's not even the actual cinnamon roll #amongst the trash heap that is heavens. i am sure someone else is no 1 but wow now this is making me glad i never got into this like when i #was a kid/teen bc man. i rly hated meta knight for some reason #i dont anymore but for the longest time it sure was a big fiery hatred for him LAWL i dont evej remember why?? i guess his ''do or die'' #training for kirby? wow. [or maybe it was displacement but we don't talk about that theory that i just thought up] #tag talk #anyways have some free lore #my idol son #my champion

[astridthevalkyrie]

oh my god, bakugo's kind of my friend! | k. bakugo x reader

----> summary: You'd never dare tell anyone that he was your friend. You'd never be so bold. Katsuki agrees. He's definitely not your friend.

----> warnings: quirkless university au, video game violence, fluff n feelings

----> a/n: title blatantly stolen from the office—"oh my god, dwight's kind of my friend!"

----> word count: 2k

God, no, you’re not friends with Katsuki Bakugo.

No one is.

Yeah, okay, that’s not totally true. He’s sort of friends with Ochako, that’s how you met him. He’s actually fairly close to Izuku and Eijiro, his roommates. He tolerates Shoto, might even begrudgingly respect him. And he’s got some weird mutual-depression pact going on with Kyoka. 

But you’re not any of them. And you vehemently deny it when people ask, lest he, heaven forbid, think you’re going around telling people he likes you. You saw what happened to Neito last year when he, just once, said something about his friend Katsuki. You’re pretty sure it was the reason behind his switching majors, too, just to avoid being in the same classes with the terrifying blonde.

Sure, you’re in his apartment. Neito’s never stepped foot in here (aside from The Incident). And you’re well acquainted with the people he does clearly consider not-enemies. Earlier today, you and Momo had been out getting chips and soda for tonight. Just half an hour ago, you’d been playing blind karaoke with Eijiro, Izuku, and Ochako on Kyoka’s old laptop and mic that somehow both still had really good audio quality. Not to mention, you and Mina have had at least one class together every semester since you both started—she always races to slide into the chair next to you on every first day.

And you’re currently sitting on Katsuki’s couch, two feet away from Katsuki, playing a battle royale on Katsuki’s console.

“Behind the building,” he mutters, and you hum in acknowledgement, running to the spot he generously marked on the map.

It started a long while back. You and Denki had been playing some shitty racing game, and you’d very easily kicked his ass, leaving him groaning and flopping back onto Kyoka’s lap, where she offered no pity, rolling his head off with a light shove. As you were laughing at the display, Katsuki had taken Denki’s place on the floor, and all but demanded you pick up the controller once more.

(You’d won again. Terrified, you simply claimed that your controller must be broken before racing out of the room.

Imagine your surprise when, the next time you visited, he’d barked at you to assist him with a multiplayer, ordering a pouty Denki off the couch.)

You like playing, and you don’t have a console with as much storage back home, and you’re too broke to be buying multiple games anyways, so you don’t mind taking advantage of Katsuki’s appreciation for your skill. It’s usually a nice way to end the night, whether you and Ochako end up leaving or if you fall asleep right there on the couch.

Shivering, you bring your feet under the wool blanket you’d brought with you. You’re the only one who finds the apartment freezing. Everyone else typically sheds their extra layers, while you once hunted down Eijiro’s sock drawer to steal a pair of He-Man stockings for the night. 

“Up in the window,” you warn, at the same time he says, “Oi.”

Both of you meet each other’s gaze for a second in bewilderment, before rapidly turning your attention back to the TV. He dodges the shot from the window, and then continues.

“You been tellin’ people I hate you?”

“What?” Your hands almost drop the controller, but you regain control just quick enough to roll out of the way of a grenade. “No.”

“Kirishima said Tetsutetsu told him that Kendo told him that Tokage told her that you told her I hated you.”

If you weren’t nervous, you’d tell Katsuki you were surprised he even knew all those names. “I didn’t say that. I just said we weren’t friends.”

There’s an awfully long pause. You can still hear the sounds from the game, and the chatter of everyone else in the apartment—Hanta’s trying to rap?—but not a word from your couch partner. If it weren’t for the screen in front of you, you’d be nervously biting your nails or just full on escaping, honestly. Not that you’re scared of Katsuki, at least not more than one should be, but���

Well, the truth is you did see him as a friend. Or, screw it, as more than that, if those little arrhythmias you observed in yourself every time he would raise his hand in greeting when he passed you on campus were any indication. And you know it’s going to hurt—it already does—to hear him confirm the same thing that you told everyone when they asked. That you meant very little to him, in the long term.

“We’re not friends, huh?” he finally says, as more of an inquiry than you’d expected it to sound.

Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t stop staring straight ahead, spamming X to whack someone over the head with a bat. “Um. Are we?”

“Isn’t this your favorite game?” he shoots back, as though that answers your question.

“Yes? So?”

Another pause. You climb up to the roof of some building and emote pointlessly before hopping down and ducking behind a bush to heal. Katsuki lets out a mix of a sigh and a grunt, dashing across an abandoned minefield. 

“So,” he snarks, “I only bought it after you told me it was your favorite.”

Faintly, you feel the tips of your ears grow hot. Is that true? That can’t be true, can it? The timing does line up. You think it was back in the first week of October that you mentioned it, and then by Halloween you’d already played several rounds. Between that and losing to Momo in several games of pool, finals month had flown by.

But…

“I didn’t even tell you that.” Your voice comes out meek, and even though you’re in a safe space now, you’re still too nervous to turn your head and look at him. “I was talking to Shoto.” You’d even been half sure that Shoto wasn’t really registering what you were saying, with Ochako an inch away from him shrieking starships were meant to fly-y-y-y-y directly into his ear.

Katsuki grunts. “I was there, wasn’t I?”

If you wrack your memory, you can sort of remember it. He was…on Ochako’s other side? When she got drunk, she usually wanted to whack something, and Katsuki’s arm had been her victim that day, her palm smacking against his elbow at every other sung word.

The heat from your ears travels down to your neck. Over the singing and over everyone else’s conversations, was he paying attention to…you?

“I appreciate it,” you squeak quickly, wincing when you’re shot in the leg, “I mean, that was nice. Thank you. I just—I didn’t think you wanted me telling people we were friends, after what happened to—”

“If you bring up Monoma, I’ll take away your blanket,” he threatens; it makes you chuckle weakly. “You’re not that shithead. He pisses me off. You’re…you know.” You don’t know, actually. “You.”

Yeah, you’re you. You play games with him. You know his friends. You’re the only one who can try to outdance Eijiro to Rasputin in Just Dance. What does any of that have to do with…

“Do you think I ever fuckin’ carried that dick’s bag to class?”

“I don’t—”

“Do you think I had his stupid long ice cream order memorized? Pistachios, on the sides only,” he mimics, and you huff in an affronted sort of way, defensive of your topping choices. “Telling people to shut up so that I could hear what he was saying? Turning up the heat and burning up everyone in the apartment just to keep him warm? Was I inviting him to my place every two weeks just to fuckin’ watch him play Kingdom Hearts 3?”

And so, you finally look to the side. Katsuki’s cheeks are red, and his gaze is still on the television. His thumbs move furiously against the controller, and you have to bite your lip to prevent a quiet you’re really cute, you know that? from carelessly slipping from your mouth.

“But, to be fair,” you attempt, still confused, “you don’t exactly do all of that for your other friends either, Katsuki.”

At your words, he slouches into his seat more, the creases on his forehead deepening as an uncharacteristic frown—a frown, not a scowl—forms on his face. One would think you’d just told him you hated his guts. 

“Yeah.“ His glare flickers over to you for a moment. “Exactly.”

There’s a blast from the TV and a realization that hits you at the same time. 

You’re not his friend. He doesn’t see you as a friend.

The heat finally reaches your cheeks, and your mouth falls open slightly. 

Then, realizing something else, your head immediately snaps back to the screen to see that blast sound had actually been your character getting blown up. 

Your mouth falls open. You’d looked away for a few seconds at best. Which aces are in the lobby tonight?

“I lost,” you tell him, crestfallen. 

Katsuki snorts. “I didn’t.”

He keeps playing, and your cheeks don’t take any time to cool down. Instead, you stare at him while he’s distracted trying to escape the same vicious bastards who hunted you down, and you note that his face doesn’t look any less heated either. For once, it’s clearly not because he’s just getting into the game.

You wonder if that was ever the case at all, or if he just felt the same striking little jolt you did everytime you two accidentally bumped into each other while playing on this exact couch.

“I think I’m done for tonight.” The announcement comes out a bit louder than you expected. “I’ll probably head back.”

“I don’t think so.” Without breaking his eyes away from the TV, he nudges his head in the direction of the bedrooms. “Uraraka’s dead on her feet, and you’re not walkin’ back alone.”

Has he always purposely caused the fluttering in your chest? “Okay, well. Izuku’s still awake, I’ll just take his bed for now.”

Katsuki’s tongue clicks in a fuck-around-and-find-out kind of way. “Alright. Put the controller back before you go.”

“Fine. Where’s the, uh…” You turn your head this way and that, looking for the little box that they all go in.

“On my right,” he offers casually, not a hint on his face that he essentially just confessed to you.

Feeling a little spiteful, you reach to the side, blanket and all, instead of just standing up and going behind the couch like you would any other day. Purposefully blocking his view of the screen as you reach over him to toss the controller into the box, you smirk slightly when another blast signals that he’s died as well.

Only to yelp when a firm arm shoves you down against his chest.

“Would you look at that,” he murmurs, red eyes glittering in amusement as he watches you struggle on his lap, “I lost too.”

Tokage is going to hear a very different story tomorrow. “And how’s that my problem?”

His grip tightens, fingers gently digging into the thick cloth of the blanket that’s draped over you. “I wanna play again. And I’m cold.”

There’s a small, dumb grin on his face that you’d consider kissing off if it wasn’t mirrored by an equally dumb one of yours. You’re pretty sure Katsuki’s never ever complained about the cold in his apartment. But then, he’s never complained about the heat either. If he wants to be a sauna under you, who are you to deny him? Besides, you’re feeling cold too, you might as well just take advantage of the free insulation.

From the table, in the midst of pouring something that looks like cookie batter into a bowl, Kyoka raises her brow at the sight of you, then pats Tenya’s arm and points. 

He mouths something like, “Finally.”

Face burning once more, you bury your face in Katsuki’s neck, and relax in his hold while he presses X to replay.

#bakugo x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x y/n #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x you #valkyrie stories

[gothamcitycentral]

Hazbin establishes very strong parallels between Charlie and Vaggie’s relationship and Lucifer and Lilith’s.

Charlie being as to Lucifer, the fantastical dreamer discouraged and rejected by the world around them.

Vaggie being as to Lilith, someone who failed their assigned role and were driven out of ‘paradise’ (Heaven/Eden) by someone they should have been able to trust (Lute/Adam).

In their most vulnerable moments Lucifer and Charlie find them, love blossoming between each pair because they defied the norm, Lucifer and Lilith being rebellious in a world of order and Charlie and Vaggie being kind in a world of cruelty.

Though at the same time, Charlie is to Lilith while Vaggie is to Lucifer.

“This kingdom was something she really cared about. Something I care about.”

Charlie acknowledges she is the last thread of the hope her mother gave to Hell all those thousands of years ago. The responsibility to her home Charlie puts on her shoulders is born from the love Lilith had for it. She is directly following in her mother’s footsteps, truly believing her people deserve better and that they’re worth fighting for.

Then there is their partners, the fallen angels who don’t share their love’s connection to Hell. Lucifer saw sinners as horrible people who wasted the gift he went to Hell for giving them. Vaggie always kept everyone not named Charlie a spear’s distance away, treating them as people she tolerated but never trusted for a moment. Despite what Heaven had done, had done to them, they were still thinking like angels.

(Though, these mentalities would change throughout the first season, Lucifer choosing to support Charlie no matter what and Vaggie accepting the hotel crew as a part of the in-group which she wishes to protect)

Lucifer’s distaste for his people, not fighting alongside Lilith’s rebellion and instead agreeing to the exterminations, seems to be why they eventually split, despite the love they held for each other. In extreme contrast, Vaggie always supporting Charlie is what keeps them together despite bumps in their relationship. Vaggie always chose to believe in and support Charlie and that means the world and more to Charlie, who spent so much of her life unsupported.

The show also juxtaposes Lucifer’s parental love for Charlie with Vaggie’s romantic love for her, most prominently with Vaggie starting the reprise of More Than Anything to express her love as Lucifer did originally.

(They’re also just. Charlie and Lilith being these tall powerful demon women with Vaggie and Lucifer being their short and tiny fallen angel loves)

What becomes interesting is during the finale when Lucifer (very strongly, very tastefully) implies he ate out Adam’s first wife before fucking his second.

This seems to based on sexual interpretations of original sin. However, in Hazbin we are very much lead to believe the Fruit of Knowledge is a literal apple. Given that Lilith is said to have also offered the apple to Eve, I doubt the implication is that Luci had any sort of one night stand with Eve. Rather, I think Lilith, Eve, and him were once, or attempted to be, in a romantic relationship.

(Considering Eve was made to be Adam’s lesser and Lucifer and Lilith shared the gift of free will with her specifically, I do wonder if Eve had fallen in love with the two, but was unable to leave Adam. The Fruit of Knowledge being given to her so she would be able to be free and join their relationship, but ultimately resulted in their separation as Lucifer and Lilith were casted into Hell)

Which certainly has implications about the future of Charlie and Vaggie’s relationship.

I think the show has actually set very compelling parallels between Eve and Emily.

Much as Lucifer shared forbidden knowledge with Eve, it’s Charlie’s actions that revealed the hidden truth of Heaven’s exterminations. There’s the specific ‘free will’ which Eve was gifted, which fits with Charlie’s influence giving Emily the ‘free will’ to defy Sera and act against Heaven.

I’ve also talked before about the possibility Emily was brought into existence to fill Lucifer’s place in Heaven. Considering the protective relationship Sera has with Emily, along with her looks of genuine horror at her acting against Heaven, it brings to mind the idea Sera has been fearful that Emily would fall just as Lucifer did for Emily’s entire existence, and as such raised her to be more likely to never stray from Heaven as Lucifer did. Which could add to why Sera hid Heaven’s genocide from her despite Emily being a high ranking seraphim; she couldn’t risk giving Emily a reason to rebel.

Which would be a very striking analogue between the two. Both living replacements for the fallen, born into someone else’s shadow to take their place, intended to be the more docile and proper version of Lilith and Lucifer, less likely to stray from the roles they were created to fill. Though, of course, we know Eve fell to temptation and maybe-probably-definitely left or tried to leave Adam, and that Emily is walking the edge.

(Emily having ties to both Lucifer and Eve seems relevant with how Charlie and Vaggie each have parallels to Lucifer and Lilith. Perhaps in her fall, we’ll see Emily ‘thrive in Hell’ just as Lilith did, and similarities between Charlie and Vaggie to Eve will pop up the more we learn about her?)

What’s also interesting is that Eve ‘falling into temptation’ (choosing Lucifer and Lilith over her preordained role) is what separated her from them. However, if Emily were to choose supporting Charlie’s dream over her place in Heaven, then her falling would be what brought her to Charlie and Vaggie. Thereby their situation acts as a foil to the previous generation’s.

And Emily supporting Charlie is very relevant. In More Than Anything we get the exchange of:

“I’ll support your dream whatever lies in store.”

“And who could ask for more?”

Because Charlie can’t think of anything more she could ask. Charlie’s idea of love and being loved is so heavily based on support and being supported. It’s a part of the conflict in Hell’s Greatest Dad, that Lucifer is being genuine and Alastor manipulative, but Alastor is the one actually providing Charlie with what she asks of him, which Lucifer never has. Charlie shows her love for Hell by believing in them, that they can improve, they deserve safety, and they have worth. It’s why Vaggie’s love is so important to Charlie, because for a long time, she was the only one believing in her.

And what does Emily do?

“I don’t know-”

“Yeah, let’s give him a chance!”

She supports Charlie! She believes and trusts her and argues on her behalf. She’s the only angel in Heaven to have faith in Charlie’s dream. Having Emily in the position of a fallen angel, falling right into Charlie’s arms, Charlie caring for her and nursing her back to health, with her being someone who very deeply believes in her, would be the same conditions that made Charlie fall in love with Vaggie three years ago.

Then for Vaggie, Emily also has a lot of the textbook traits that she loves Charlie for. The overexcited-ness, the care she has for others, even the way she doesn’t pull rank. And what she hasn’t expressed, that being seeing value in Vaggie where she herself does not, it feels natural that Emily would express that in the way Charlie does upon learning Vaggie’s history. We’ve seen her sense of justice and her horror at Heaven’s actions, so her deeply sympathizing with Vaggie would be entirely expected, and would be a very easy way for Vaggie to catch feelings for Emily.

However, there is this:

Which suggests the direction of a jealous Vaggie. I think that works, at least initially, with Vaggie feeling insecure in her relationship with Charlie after Emily falling and being cared for by Charlie in the way she was all that time ago. Those feelings heavily changing however, at the realization that Emily is crushing on her just as much as she is Charlie and how deeply relatable to her Emily’s circumstances and trauma would be.

Then on Emily’s side, not only would she have very much been thinking and focusing on Charlie prior to her fall, once she does, she lands in a very emotionally volatile situation where Charlie and Vaggie are supporting her so much and caring for her so deeply. It makes sense that this would translate to her developing feelings for the both of them.

(Now, this is a bit less definitive, but with Emily’s design, the long hair and dress that covers every inch of her short of her fingers, and Heaven being a stand in for the imperialist church, I do read the coming-of-age story the show has set up for her to be one of a conservative christian raised girl striking out of the doctrine she grew up in and finding community in the people her home had demonized, or at least an allegory for such. So having her develop romantic feelings for two ‘vile and blasphemous’ women in a very non-monogamous way would be very thematically relevant I think)

I would say this all works great as an analogue to Lucifer, Lilith, and Eve. Eve being in the unfortunate situation of Adam’s wife but finding comfort in Lucifer and Lilith and falling for the both of them as Emily would as a fallen angel being comforted by Charlie and Vaggie. Lucifer seeing Lilith reflected in Eve and caring for and helping her as he did before being parallel to Charlie helping Emily as she did Vaggie. Lilith initially feeling negativity towards the woman made to replace her bond so closely with her new love, only to realize Eve is falling for her just as much as she is for Lucifer and empathizing with Eve’s situation so deeply, just like Vaggie.

Then, there’s Adam and Lute. I already mentioned that they play parallel with forcing Lilith and Vaggie out of their respective paradises. Their dynamics are built on Adam and Lute punishing, and their domination over, Lilith and Vaggie, because they need to know their place: beneath them. (There’s also the interpretation of that Lute had or has romantic feelings for Vaggie, which is certainly relevant) The show is being very clear with Lute being Adam’s successor I feel, with her taking on his position as leader of the exorcists following his death.

Then, her line: “Your brat is threatening the very foundation of Heaven.” Personally, that makes me think of a sediment Adam would feel towards Lucifer. That’s he is the source of every problem, that he stole his wives (ignoring that Lilith left him before even meeting Luci), and that he destroyed paradise, Eden. Now that Vaggie and Lute’s conflict has seemingly come to a close, I think the show will be shifting to a Lute vs Charlie conflict, much as Adam shifted from Lilith to his hatred for Lucifer.

Now, if the show wants to push a Adam-Eve dynamic with Lute and Emily, what I could imagine is Lute protecting onto Emily in a very one sided way, where she thinks Charlie has ‘corrupted’ the seraphim (threatening heaven’s foundation) and she must personally ‘save’ her, which would very much align with how Adam would feel towards Lucifer’s influence on Eve.

Now, we can tell that Lucifer, Lilith, and Eve’s relationship Did Not pan out particularly well. So I think much like how Charlie and Vaggie have succeeded where Lilith and Lucifer failed, Charlie, Vaggie, and Emily is going to be the successful foil to their attempted relationship. Then for Lute, I think it becomes a question of: does she accept the olive branch Adam did not, does she eventually understand that she is doing wrong, does she accept mercy, or does she continue down Adam’s path, digging her own grave as he did; except that unlike Adam, there won’t be anyone to cry for her?

And y’know, the angel and 3 immortal humans versus the demon/half immortal human and 3 angels serves as a nice counter.

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie hazbin hotel #emily hazbin hotel #lute hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lilith morningstar #eve hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #chaggily #forbidden fruits #<- that’s the lucifer+lilith+eve tag yes? #lucilith #chaggie #txt

[thesherrinfordfacility]

a nice little stupid speculation to round off 2023; are we ready to talk about how crowley acted nonchalant about the metatron taking aziraphale away for a chat, but then immediately leapt up in agitation as soon as they cleared the front doors, and constantly looked out the window at them whilst talking with muriel.

are we ready to also talk about how maggie and nina came in to drop the bombshell that properly communicating with each other is going to be the only way they move forward, and how crowley takes this and immediately runs away with the half-cocked idea to confess his feelings to aziraphale.

are we then ready to talk about how he seems to completely forget all the concern and restlessness he was exhibiting about aziraphale being led away by the Enemy, in favour of launching into said confession.

im sorry, but is it completely in-character for crowley to suddenly go from prioritising, and stressing about, aziraphale's safety, to then suddenly being so overwhelmed with the need to confess his romantic feelings that he'd forget any of the concern he previously had? would immediately launch into confessing without even first wanting to know what the metatron wanted? idk about anyone else, but that suddenly seems... off.

even at the beginning of the end - "go on; day can't get any weirder." - 'weirder' seems like an odd word choice to foreshadow what was the emotional equivalent of a nuke. but what would be weird is someone forewarning him of what was about to happen.

my head keeps coming back to two things. one, that by my calculation (and therefore very much open to error), the clock in the bookshop throughout the whole of ep6 goes... weird, but it indicates that there is a 20-minute gap between metatron/aziraphale leaving, and aziraphale coming back. second, that there is still the questionable placement of the chair between muriel leaving, and the girls arriving. now idk about you, but crowley didn't seem at all surprised about aziraphale being offered to return to heaven, certainly not the same incredulity that aziraphale seemed to have; we don't even see his reaction to this part of the news:

in fact, crowley's horror seems to - initially - stem solely from the offer of restoration (and rightly so), and thereafter that this might be the swaying factor in making aziraphale actually accept - something that crowley previously thought inconceivable. so, frankly, im now starting to wonder if crowley - by some means 👀 - knew beforehand what aziraphale was about to be offered.

that he heard this warning, but was so confident that aziraphale would say no - of course he'd say no - that he brushed it off, and all that initial concern just melted away. that he instead kept holding that confidence, that belief that aziraphale would never accept it under any circumstances, right up until:

it's convoluted and frankly fantastical, and im perfectly happy to chalk it up to some kind of crack theory, but i don't think it's just aziraphale's behaviour that seems out of sorts in the final fifteen; i think possibly we might have been so overwhelmed with crowley's heartbreak that we might not have been paying close enough attention to him, too.

#good omens #feral domestic/final fifteen meta #crowley meta #batshit time travel spec

[denaliwrites]

Step Too Far

Aziraphale x Fem!Reader

Summary: Aziraphale gets tired of Crowley's incessant teasing of Reader and finally steps in.

Warnings: Bullying, if we wanna be technical.

Requests: Open!

From the beginning, you'd been pretty sure Crowley wasn't overly fond of you. You suspected a lot of it was just a reaction to having someone unfamiliar around -- the way a dog gets when their owner brings in a new puppy. That sort of thing. You thought maybe he'd get used to you, eventually.

It's not even like you were particularly intrusive; you kept to one armchair in the whole of the bookshop (and you'd made absolutely sure it wasn't one Crowley or Aziraphale used regularly), you always put books back where you'd found them, you were even helpful when you could be. Being a human did kind of restrict you in some ways.

Still, he never seemed to adjust to you. Though, you had to admit that his teasing got a lot less honestly hurtful over time. You suspected it was because of Aziraphale -- at first, the angel hadn't seemed to notice. But you started to see him shooting looks at the demon any time he said something particularly mean.

You didn't hold it against Crowley, though. You knew he was protective of "his" angel, and you also suspected that maybe some of the things he said weren't actually meant to be mean, he just wasn't well-versed in human conversation. And how could you blame him for that? You'd probably be overly mean too if you had to deal with other demons all the time -- they seemed a miserable lot.

Or, well... you'd thought that maybe it was an adjustment thing, that maybe it was a communication thing, or that maybe he was just Like That, to an extent (even though he never seemed to say anything nearly as mean to Aziraphale). You were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Always.

Until the first time you and Aziraphale kissed (and Crowley fucking saw the whole thing).

Neither of you knew he was there when it happened. And it was just a natural procession of events. You stepped into the bookshop, Aziraphale was waiting for you at the door. You both leaned forward, and then... it just happened. And it was so sweet!

Aziraphale was a lot more composed than you -- you got the impression he'd been planning that, and had steeled himself to the point of not allowing himself to react.

But you... you blushed, and you giggled deliriously, and your skirt swished a little as you twisted your hips in a nearly full-body wiggle.

Seeing you react not just well, but joyously, Aziraphale allowed himself a smile. "Hello, my dear," he greeted you softly.

You could barely hear him over the angel's chorus going off in your ears. "H-hey," you squeaked, beaming up at him. You were so smitten. You looked like an idiot.

Wait --

Oh, that hadn't been your internal voice. That had been...

"Crowley!" you heard Aziraphale admonish the demon, who'd sauntered over to see what the commotion was about. You blinked back into the moment, watching the two warily.

"What? She does! Look at her!" He motioned vaguely to all of you but made special emphasis towards your cheeks, flushed deep red, and to your doe eyes that still looked like they were staring into oncoming headlights. "She looks like a complete idiot."

Your mouth opened to say something, but Aziraphale cut in, his own cheeks red -- you could see, though, that he wasn't flustered the way you were. He had the look of someone about to go on the warpath.

You were kind of scared, honestly, but in a horny way.

"Crowley, for Heaven's sake -- leave her alone, already! Look at the poor thing, she's so red I'm afraid she may faint! My poor dear." For some reason, you were genuinely surprised to hear such concern in his voice?

Crowley stuttered out a few meaningless syllables for a moment, before having the good sense to look positively ashamed of himself.

"I... well... hgk," he grunted uselessly, avoiding Aziraphale's gaze.

"If all you're going to do is stand there, the least you can do is apologize to her!"

Crowley's wayward gaze found its way to you. Still stunned, all you could do was watch Crowley with wide eyes as he struggled for a moment, before releasing "I'msorryIsaidthatitwasverymean" in one extended breath.

You blinked, blushed a little, gave a tiny shrug... then threw your arms around him. The shocked hiss that slipped past his defenses and made him sound like a deflating dog toy just made you giggle.

"You're forgiven," you told him as you pulled away, smiling.

"That's better," you heard Aziraphale say, and you could tell Crowley had heard him too, but the two of you were too focused on each other. You could tell he was sizing you up, trying to gauge something in his mind. You wished you could tell what it was he was trying to see.

His hand shot out at you, and before you could react, it landed squarely on the top of your head, in something of a... pet? Was he petting you?

"You're... you're not so bad, I s'pose," he conceded in little more than a murmur.

He missed the satisfied smirk on Aziraphale's face, but you didn't.

#aziraphale x reader #aziraphale x you #crowley x reader #crowley x you #good omens fic #good omens fanfiction #good omens x reader #david tennant #michael sheen

[scriggle-scraggle]

Due South Fic Recs

Academic Punk by TheHoyden (RayK/Fraser): The quintessential college professor AU

Busted & its sequel Tapestry by JiM: A year after CoTW, and a life-changing experience, Ray goes back to Canada

Like a House on Fire by @bethbethbeth01 & kelliem (RayK/Fraser): “In the immortal words of Yogi Berra, ‘It’s deja vu all over again.’”

With Six You Get Eggroll by @cesperanza (RayK/Fraser): The story of how Ray & Fraser ended up with six kids.

Ray Is Not Actually Graphing The History Of His Relationship With Fraser–That Would Be Pathetic, And Ray Is Not Pathetic–But If He Was Graphing It, Even Just In His Own Stressed-Out, Messed-Up Brain, It Might Look Something Like This by sprat (RayK/Fraser): The sex has never not been good. That is not the confusing part of Ray-and-Fraser. They are naturals at the sex; the sex is their friend. If there was some kind of sexathalon, the two of them would be All-State, trophy-winning champs.

Like a House on Fire by Beth H (bethbethbeth): "In the immortal words of Yogi Berra, 'It's deja vu all over again.'"

Ping by Speranza: I am not the only person here who wants a do-over.

Tip, Slide, Tumble by j_s_cavalcante: Ray knew when he found the body in the alley it was going to change someone's life. He just didn't expect that life would be his.

All the Comforts of Home by rattlecatcher: post-CotW

Family Portrait by Journey [archived by dsa_archivist]: A slightly AU Ray Kowalski meets Constable Benton Fraser.

This Is Us Series by AuKestrel: how was the decision reached between Kowalski and Fraser to embark on the quest for the Hand of Franklin?

Near Wild Heaven Series by AuKestrel: This was, almost literally, the first thing I wrote, and certainly the first long thing I ever wrote. (Coming to Terms was the first "short" story I wrote and posted.) I worked on this off and on for over a year and did not write it in any kind of linear fashion. The first part was actually finished last, in part because I was stuck in getting them to a plausible misunderstanding that was necessary for the plot (such as it was). It's rough, and could have done with more work, although I did fix a lot of the (popular at the time, I swear!) dialect.

I'm posting it in part because I had SUCH a great time writing it (in fact, there are still parts of it that make me laugh), because I learned so much by/while writing it, and also because it's sort of "historical": a lot of the tropes in dS fandom did not exist when this was written (hard to believe, but there were only 27 F/K stories on Hexwood when I came into the fandom, and only about 5 of those had any kind of M/M sex!), and I thought it would be fun for other people to see how we earlier writers managed such things as tropes before they were tropes. But, in essence, you are about to read a "first novel," with all the alarm bells that ought to ring in your head.

Hawks and Hands by Dira Sudis (dsudis): Eighteen sex scenes strung together with angst and hockey.

Finding the Words by Berty: When luck finally runs out, who's there to pick up the pieces?

Wildly Courteous Ways by Starfish [archived by dsa_archivist]: A new assignment has Ray worried until Fraser steps in to help.

When the Ice Goes Out by Kellie Matthews [archived by dsa_archivist]: Long past CotW, Fraser and Ray K. discover that life both it and isn't as simple as it seems.

What We Talk About When We Talk About Wolves by Penelope Whistle [archived by dsa_archivist]: From stake-out to make-out.

Unguarded Protectorate by Bone [archived by dsa_archivist], Mairead Triste [archived by dsa_archivist]: Smut and angst. This story was previously published in the zine SERGE PROTECTOR.

Somewhere Else to Be by Kellie Matthews [archived by dsa_archivist]: This is an AU. Fraser's not a Mountie, Ray's not a cop, but as someone once said, things once linked remain that way. In any universe, they are meant to be partners.

The Reaching Out One by Alex51324: (AO3 account required) It's ten years after the events of CoTW (in other words, the present day). After the Quest, Fraser and Ray went back to their regular lives--

The Course by Bone [archived by dsa_archivist], Aristide [archived by dsa_archivist]: Randomness. Inevitability. Smut.

If It Walks Like A Duck . . . by Beth H (bethbethbeth): When an old friend of Ray Kowalksi's returns to Chicago, it takes almost no time at all for her to draw the obvious - and erroneous - conclusion about Ray and his "partner."

Genesis by kalena: In the beginning, Ray Kowalski meets Benton Fraser, geologist and volcano cowboy, in Hawaii. AU.

#ds30below #fic rec #due south #ray kowalski #benton fraser #rayk x fraser

[heartfullofleeches]

Incel, femcel, or themcel. We just need a greasy, chronically online mean person to be a yandere. Any ideas on how that would work?

(The best idea I could come up with is streamer reader)

Livestream began twelve minutes ago.

"Oh? Shit, is that V? What's up, buddy- welcome back."

You're so perfect. Near a quarter of an hour late, and you still grace them with a greeting. They knew you weren't like the others they wasted their time on. No, you're kind. Inviting. God they loved you so much.

V stumbled across your channel on night during a drunken relapse into pouring their hours into viewing the lives of random strangers online. It was all they had to do after work with none of the potential partners they messaged ever responding to their texts or calls. Their lost.

You were in the beginning period of streaming with only ten followers to your name; majority likely close friends and family. V planned on giving "light" critic of your performance, but something about the brightness in your eyes as they joined the stream sobered them up and glued them to their seat completely.

"Hi, welcome. Your name is actually too long to fix on the screen. Is it cool if I just call you V?"

And they were hooked on you ever since.

Little by little, your fanbase grew to the comfortable size it was today; your first real viewer front and center for each recording. Despite the boost in popularity, you never forgot those who gave it to you in the first place. V likes to think they're the most valued member with their donations and the equipment they sent once they had convinced you to open a p.o box. Shame they never pin pointed the location before you announced your move and had it closed.

"Since you're here. I can try on that jacket you sent me before I finish packing. It's so cute."

V wipes specks of drool off their screen as you sort through a cardboard box and slip the coat on. You were wearing something they touched. Fuck, you're so cute they could just devour you alive. With no roomates, they could get away with licking their phone unlike last time, but they refrained from said temptation for now. Cat ears sprout atop your head as you pull the hoodie on. You rub your shoulders as the jacket's interior snuggles your frame.

"Whoa, much warmer than I expected. I might wear it during my flight."

You better. Since you forced the thought into their head, if they see you with anything else in your photos they might blow a gasket. Just imagining random commentors wondering where you got the coat and you answering with a nod at their existence gave V the ego boost of a lifetime.

"It's getting kinda late. We'll do some more chatting then I gotta bounce for the night."

V watches the rest of your stream with the loudest voice of the crowd. They wait until it ends to begin their nightly routine of screenshotting their favorite moments of the stream. The highlight was a frame of you posing like a cat following another's chatters request. Having so many pests ruined some of their enjoyment, but times like this they'd let slide. For now.

-

V sits alone at the bus stop the following day. The prized picture taken previously was now their lockscreen photo. The fifth change in the last two days. A creature like you was bound to have unworthy trash throwing themselves at your feet daily, but they knew that with your history it would only take one hello for you to fall as madly in love with them as they were you. You're different like that. If only they could meet you.

V is pulled from their moment of bliss by a tap on their shoulder; scowl ready for whoever dragged them from heaven - until they see whose standing in front of them.

"Hi, I hope I'm not bothering you, but do you know if this bus goes to this street? My taxi didn't drive out that far apparently...."

The stranger blinks, cat ears shifting.

"Sorry- have we met before? You seem familiar. "

#Streamer reader #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #V my oc

[edosianorchids901]

Visionary

Ace Omens Hugfest 2024 prompt - "the first hug"

Before the Beginning

Brilliant flashes of light zoomed past, really quite striking even if somewhat alarming. Aziraphale rather suspected that being hit by the celestial matter would be uncomfortable, at the least. He’d heard rumors of punishments in Heaven, for angels who disobeyed. It was said to be “painful.”

Aziraphale had never experienced pain, and he didn’t experience it in the current firestorm, either. A beautiful white wing remained above his head, spread wide to shield him from both little sparks and  simmering fireballs.

“Does that hurt?” he finally asked. “The… flaming bits hitting your wing?”

“Hmm?” The red-headed starmaker glanced to him, then smiled and shrugged. “Nah. I mean, a little. But it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not?” Aziraphale peeked out at the last few bits of the apparently painful shower. “It looks like it ought to be a big deal. It’s all, you know. Flaming.”

“Er, yeah, it’s definitely flaming. Just stings a bit, though, that’s all.” The starmaker let out a snorting gust of laughter. “Now, the time I accidentally set off a supernova in the lab? That hurt.”

Aziraphale looked at him in alarm. “What’s a supernova?”

“Oh yeah. I get so wrapped up in all this that I forget not everyone knows about it yet. Um.” A little frown tugged at the starmaker’s face. Then he brightened, pointing to a big blue star. “It’s when one of those beauties blows up.  It’s not very fun from up close, I don’t recommend it.”

“Um. Yes, well.” Aziraphale fidgeted as he looked at the star. “I-I’m working with the people, you see. I don’t think they explode.”

“Well, for my money, you can make anything explode.” Another burst of laughter erupted from the starmaker, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh too. His excitement was quite catching. “What do humans do, if they don’t explode? Anything interesting?”

“Oh, um. Lots of things!” Aziraphale tried to think of something. “Oh yes, they hug! Or-or-or, they will hug, rather. We don’t actually have a working model yet, and we’d need two of them to test it.”

“Huh. Sounds…” The starmaker’s brow furrowed. “Sounds… What’s a hug?”

“Ah. Well. It’s when the humans put their arms out like this—” Aziraphale demonstrated, “—and then they wrap the arms around another person and squeeze.”

The starmaker frowned. “Why?”

“I-I don’t really know.” Aziraphale gazed at the beauty that the other angel had created, and felt a bit silly. “I just… thought it looked like a nice thing for them to do.”

“You invented it, then?”

Aziraphale ducked his head. “Well, it’s all part of the Great Plan, of course. Everything we do. But yes. It looks like it would feel so wonderful, doesn’t it? If someone was hugging you, you could never be lonely.”

Oh dear, he shouldn’t have said that. Angels certainly weren’t supposed to be lonely. It wasn’t a concept he felt like explaining, either.

“Ohh. Okay. I get it now.” The starmaker nodded, expression contemplative. Then, quite suddenly, he opened his arms. “Here, I’ll help you test it.”

Aziraphale gaped at him. “You will?”

“Yeah, sure! You need two people, eh? And since you don’t have any humans yet…” Shrugging, the starmaker beckoned. “C’mon. You helped me, I’ll help you. Makes sense, right?”

“I suppose it does.” Although Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure that angels were supposed to hug. He certainly never would have dreamed of trying it with one of the others that he worked with. Or even worse, with an Archangel. He would have been far, far too intimidated.

But this angel beside him was kind, his expression still cheerful and curious and full of zest. He’d offered Aziraphale shelter, not wanting him to feel even the slightest bit of pain. And Aziraphale found himself not the slightest bit intimidated. Eager, even.

He propelled himself over with a light flap of wings, and the starmaker grinned. “Right. So, you’re the expert. How do we do this?”

“Oh, um. You put your arms around my waist, and I’ll sort of just…” Now a tiny bit nervous again—especially since no one had ever referred to him as an “expert” at anything, or even seemed to think he was competent—Aziraphale reached out. He carefully rested one hand on the other angel’s shoulder, guiding him in, and settled the other on his waist.

Slender arms curled around him, and Aziraphale closed his eyes reflexively at the pleasure of being touched. He smiled as he sank into the careful embrace.

Oh, goodness. Yes, he’d been quite right. One could never be lonely while being hugged.

“Gosh.” The starmaker squeezed him tightly, then stepped back. “Good job. That’s a terrific invention.”

“Oh!” The kind words made Aziraphale nearly lightheaded, and he clutched his hands together. “Do you really think so?”

“Yup. Look, I’ve gotta run. Loads more work to do. Black holes to develop, neutron stars to smash together, radiation to tweak. That area needs more glow.” The starmaker pointed to an area that looked as if it was already glowing quite nicely. “See you around!”

With a powerful flap of the wings, the starmaker took off. He waved, and Aziraphale waved back.

Feeling quite more peaceful than he had in some time—as peaceful as an angel ought to feel—Aziraphale hovered and watched the beautiful nebula for a bit longer. Then, reinvigorated, he set off to continue developing his new invention of hugs.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #art #ace omens hugfest 2024

[delphiealmond]

A Fallen Apple From the Apple Tree

⋆☾⋆𓅮❦⛧⋆☾⋆

Pairing ➸ Lucifer Morningstar x Alastor

Synopsis ➸ Lucifer Morningstar believed that Heaven was a sanctuary, the best place for a soul to be in. Growing up with his brothers was the easy part, until God summoned him and his older brother Michael to guard over the portal between realms. Slowly, Lucifer begins to see how frightful Heaven really was. Sought out to defend the sinners of Hell, tragedy strikes among the Archangels. But a familiar face makes Lucifer think that maybe defending his opinion wasn't the worst idea he could've had. Does this familiar face bring him peace? Or does Lucifer end up getting stuck in another twisting cycle of lies and betrayals?

Warnings ➸ None for this chapter

⋆☾⋆𓅮❦⛧⋆☾⋆

MASTERLIST | Next

Chapter One (1.2k)

The world around them was nothing like the world they had grown accustomed to. An array of reds and blacks. The sky was blood red with a design etched into it that the young soul couldn’t recognize. Everything around him was violent, scary even. He kept himself close to his father, yet his little heart wanted to see what else there was to this different, twisted world he just entered. 

Souls were fighting with each other, beating each other up in a way the child had never seen before. The man beside him, stood tall as he beckoned both boys into a venue. It wasn’t anything as fancy as the ones back at home. It was breaking, cracks in the walls, spiders in the corners and what Lucifer could only imagine were dead bodies. 

Beside him, Michael grabbed onto his hand, gripping it tightly as he couldn’t bear to look at the world around him. He kept his eyes to the ground, kept close to his brother, kept close to his father. But Lucifer on the other hand, couldn’t help but look at the wreckage around them. 

“Father-”

“Not now, Luci.” He glanced down to Lucifer, only to gently pat his head. “We won’t be here for long,” He encouraged. Lucifer gave the tall man a small nod, before he looked at his brother. 

“Did you hear him? We won’t be here for long, Michael.” He tried, hoping to help his older brother feel a tiny bit better. Yet, Michael didn’t look up. He held onto his brother firmly, following after their father, two Cherubims stuck close to them, wielding angelic weapons in their hands. 

After a long hallway, Lucifer found himself standing behind his father, two large double doors being pushed open. 

The room was full of people. Those who towered over the little ones. They stood tall, determined and looked almost angry. Though, Lucifer couldn’t exactly tell why. His father wasn’t a bad man, so why did they look so mad at him? 

“So the deity finally decided to show up.” One of them said, though, to Lucifer he looked sort of like a clown. He found clowns funny, actually, as he tried to hide his smile behind his hand. 

“I didn’t expect you to actually say yes to this kind of meeting.” The hound girl said. Her hair flowed like honey, an array of blues, pinks, oranges and yellows. She was quite pretty. He wanted to touch her hair, though he stayed close to his father, nearly clinging onto the end of his jacket with Michael attached to his father by the hip. 

“I had no other choice.” His voice almost beamed through the room. “You threatened Heaven, and we can’t have that happening.” 

“So they sent the big man out here huh?” The clown-man leaned back in his chair, beginning to play with a small doll that he held in his hand. “Why not one of your… What are they?” He looked at the rest of them. 

Sat around the table were four other people. One man looked like the ocean, a deep blue with greens and purples. The others, Lucifer couldn’t really get a good look at, though, he felt intimidated by them. 

“Come sit, old friend.” The blue-man said, gesturing to the empty seat at the table. 

“Don’t call me a friend, Asmodeus. I am only here to do work.” He spoke, entering the room. Both boys, Lucifer and Michael, clung onto him, following him into the room. 

“Wait, wait…” The hound girl held up her hands, her ears tilting back as she looked at the two boys. Lucifer almost felt nervous when she caught his eye. He hid behind his father, yet peered out from behind him. Michael, on the other hand, stayed quiet, not even looking up to see the other people in the room. “You… Who are these kids?” She asked, gesturing to them. 

The two Cherubims took a step forward, almost protecting the two boys. 

“Ah,” Lucifer looked up at his father, when he reached down and patted his head. “These boys are my sons.” He looked over at Michael, and did the same thing. 

“You brought your sons to a meeting like this?” The clown-man laughed, holding his large stomach. “You must be joking, was there no baby sitter??!” He cackled. 

“Mammon.” Another deep voice startled Lucifer closer to his father, as he held onto his pant leg. Sat in the middle of the room, a tall man had his hands clasped together. “Be respectful.” He said, before gesturing to the boy next to him. 

Lucifer’s interest peaked, looking at the boy who stood next to this man. He stood silently, his hands held behind his back as he watched the meeting take place. He was dressed in red, a formal outfit with black frill. Yet, this wasn’t what caught his attention. He had a pair of fluffy ears sitting on top of his head, two little nubs accompanying them. 

Lucifer gently pulled on his father’s pant leg, yet he almost waved the boy’s need for attention away. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Mammon sunk in his spot, looking unimpressed with the leader. 

“I do have to admit though…” The man looked at this little boy, and pet his head. His ears twitched as he stood his ground. “Maybe having children here wouldn’t be the best idea…”

“That's what I was going to say…” The hound-girl muttered, looking at Lucifer and Michael. “Hey, why don’t I bring them to one of the extra rooms? They’ll be safe there, you can even have one of your angel guys with them.” 

“All children?” Lucifer’s father asked, his hands coming down to land on his boy’s heads. 

“Alastor is no harm.” The man said, looking at the boy. “Isn’t that right? You’ll do well not to hurt them?”

Alastor looked at him, before nodding. 

“Father-” Lucifer smiled up at him, gently pulling on his pant leg once more. “Please…” His father looked down at him. A worried expression riddled his face before he knelt down. 

“Michael, how do you feel about this?” Michael frowned, yet shook his head, holding onto his father for everything he’s got. He sighed, looking at Lucifer. He could see the pure excitement in that boy's eyes. The thrill for a new friend, the creativity he could show this other boy. 

“Fine.” He stood, Michael in his arms. “But the Cherubim never leaves the room they’re in.” 

“Is this fine…?” Alastor asked, looking at the man. 

“Yes, go..” The man gently nudged him. “The meeting shouldn’t last long.” He smiled at Alastor, before looking at the hound-girl. “Bee, will you do the honors?”

“Of course!” She stood from her seat, holding out her hand to Alastor. The boy took it, following after her over to the three strangers. 

Lucifer paused, looking up at how tall ‘Bee’ was. She didn’t tower over his father, but she was still so tall. And right across from him, Alastor, the other boy. His ears twitched as they tempted to lay flat against his head. 

“Go on Luci. You will be fine…” His father muttered. Lucifer swallowed hard, but he took Bee’s hand and the two boys were led out of the room, a cherubim following after them.

#radioapple #radioapple au #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin alastor

[boilbluedenim]

Over the liminal mindscape

I love and hate how this show's ending is completely left up to interpretation, mainly because of Wirt and Greg's potential deaths and how that makes me feel about the show as a whole. It attaches a sort of bittersweet feeling to it which I'm not too sure about. more on that soon though.

Anyway, when paying even just an inkling of attention to this show, you can almost immediately connect the dots and come to the conclusion that none of the adventures (for the most part) actually happened. This conclusion is heavily drawn from the frames we see at the very beginning, of Wirt, Greg, and Jason Funderburker (the frog) drowning. (ep 1)

and from the frames where Wirt wakes up in the water after having said goodbye to Beatrice, saving his brother and the frog by carrying them both out of the water. (ep 10)

Taking into account that Wirt, Greg, and Funderburker all fell into the water moments before almost getting hit by a train, which we discover in episode 9; Into The Unknown, I think it's pretty safe to assume that this is, in fact, the case and that OTGW takes place in either a mental space or a physical limbo, occurring while they are all in the process of drowning.

Another thing I'd like to mention is that OTGW is heavily based off of Dante's Inferno, which, in the simplest of summaries, is a poem about a journey that begins in a forest, leads through hell, and eventually into heaven, hence the theorized death I mentioned earlier. It's actually pretty easy to spot where these references and homages lie, for example, the formula of the story is somewhat similar, and the characters take on similar roles. (for example, Virgil: Beatrice/Woodsman(?)or even Greg in some cases, Beatrice: Sara, Dante: Wirt.) (please read Inferno or a summary of it to fully understand this if you haven't already because it's actually really interesting).

Rewatching OTGW with this in mind led me to realize a lot of things that I originally passed off as unique writing choices with no actual meaning behind them. Then again that could be the case but what's the fun in assuming that?

Upon entering the unknown, we're launched into a universe with a seemingly ever-changing time period. Characters talk funny and fancy, dress and act as if they're from the 1600s-1700s, and none of our protagonists seem particularly fazed by this (except for Beatrice, occasionally) with Greg using a phrase such as "brother o'mine" and Wirt's dramatic poetic rambles. Everything feels very inspired while also being all over the place, almost as if it's been composed from memories, lying in the pits of somebody's mind...

Wirt is a Huge Nerd.

If I am to believe that this show takes place in one of our protagonists' minds, which I do in fact believe, then I would say that that protagonist has to be Wirt. Wirt has a tendency to go on poetic spiels, even dropping two of them in the very first episode. Accompanied by his teenage boy dread (being a nerd at 14 is tough) and his overextending knowledge about curious things, which he showcases in his exclaim at Beatrice's ability to talk and his comment about one of the rooms in Endicott's mansion (below), It becomes a glaring possibility that OTGW is primarily from Wirt's point of view, with the Unknown existing solely in his head.

I've actually seen this point argued before, with some people mentioning the black turtles on the poster in Wirt's room or just his entire room in general. However, if true, that doesn't really answer the question of whether the unknown exists as a physical space or a mental one, having no supernatural effects on the real world.

2. The Implications of the Bell

Okay, so, listen.

I hate to be the kind of person who goes "Well it's probably just a fun and silly bit that doesn't actually mean anything." but I'm gonna be that person anyway, or at least I'm not going to assume character death because I don't want to and free will is a thing blablablabla. I will however be serious for a second and try to provide a tangible reason for why I think this scene doesn't have any real-world implications.

For one, this scene immediately jumpcuts to a voiceover, followed by scenes that serve as conclusions for the stories of the characters we've met along the way, all of them being positive. I think this serves the purpose of letting us know the story did in fact have a good ending, with Wirt learning how to treat his brother with respect. I also think that ties into the theory above.

Not only does the unknown serve as a mental limbo but it also serves as a lesson for Wirt in particular. This journey is riddled with self-critique, characterized as Beatrice, all the while Wirt is drowning and realizing he's not only failed himself but his brother as well.

3. The Beast

Surprisingly I haven't mentioned the beast yet even though he's very important to the story. The beast represents a couple of things, one being death and two being the overarching, real-world problem. Those may sound like the same thing, and honestly, they are depending on what you think the problem is. To me, it's Wirt's relationship with, and treatment of Greg in the real world that bleeds into the universe of the unknown.

The exchange that Wirt has with the beast at the end of episode 10 fully encapsulates his character growth. The characters his mind has created have actually taught him something, that being; wallowing in sorrow and accepting your fate is just going to lead you further down this winding path, or in this case, to the bottom of this lake. You will never get home.

Unlike I've seen others suggest, this is not a story of a boy failing and dying while so wrapped up in his own fantasy, eventually residing in a false heaven. Instead, everything is put back where it needs to be.

From the forest, through the unknown, and finally, back home.

#ramblings #over the garden wall #otgw #I havent written since september help

[demethinkstoomuch]

A Survey of House Leadership Titles

We know just enough about each house and its founders that I think there might be some threads to pull at in terms of what different house titles say about the house intends of its leadership, or some other interesting observation  -- in some cases, not a lot, but I’d say enough that there’s enough for me to play with and gnaw on like a naughty cat who should not be chewing embroidery thread.

The Second: No Known Title????

This is so interesting to me. Like, Judith is heir to the House of the Second, and this is a fact that, nevertheless, never at any point makes anything about the internal structure of the second even the slightest bit clear. What is she even heir to? I’m assuming it’s hereditary, because that seems to be the case across the board except for the Sixth. But what is she actually heir to? The training facility? The cohort command within the system??? Something else???

We don’t know, we just know their cohort ranks. Judith’s father was an admiral -- but I am sadly forced to conclude not Sarpedon, because Judith’s father projected a career for her that would force her to stay mostly within the system, and Sarpedon’s career has mostly kept him out of system. This constitutes the entirety of what we know about the Second... But, there’s information in this non-information. What this all says about the Second is that they try and present their cohort ranks as the important ones, the ones that Really Matter...But, then again, Judith, a mere captain, is the heir of the house, so...Are they what Really Matter, really? We don’t know the rules about which contexts things matter in, which I would call not encouraging. That said, I’m betting that Judith a) tries to avoid this contradiction sincerely and steadfastly by honoring the Cohort’s chain of command, and b) she isn’t the only one. If there’s an illusion that there is no mess or complication or strangeness here, it’s a precious illusion that no one intends to disturb until push comes to shove. What the Second cares about most, between their hierarchy and the cohort’s, is a question they do not want to answer.

The Third: King/Queen(?) of Ida, assumed

Man, that is such the most attention-whore title. The pageantry! The showmanship! Crown princes! Princesses! I bet there’s a literal crown, don’t you? (Also, while I’d assume from numerical order that the 5th came after the 3rd, I get the vibe from the general atmospheres of the houses the title order might have been different, that the 3rd picked King and Queen because it’s like Lord and Lady, but bigger and better. If it isn’t, then this is what would have happened if the chronology had played out differently.)

By the way, I do want to know why Babs is a Prince. Like, is that a family rank? A cavalier primary rank? A combined Cavalier-Family rank? A courtesy title? Answer the question, Naberius Tern!

The Fourth: Baron/ess of Tisis

I don’t have much to say about this one, except that my guess is that it’s kind of like the Third or Fifth titles, but, like, different (and a little bit Less Fancy.) I think that is not a coincidence even a little. Also, Baron sounds very cool.

The Fifth: Lady/Lord of Konniortus

Oh, man. I have takes on this one. For one, this is 100% an Augustine decision. For two, Oh, good heavens, he was so smug about it for centuries. It’s powerful, yet understated. Grand as all hell, but not showing off. Everyone would have wanted classical nobility titles, but the specificity of some makes them a bit weaker. I’m thinking of, like, the Lady of the Mercians, or Empress Matilda going by “Lady of the English” as an uncrowned queen for the way the term can sort of gently elide over questions of specific rank. It’s simple, classy, brief.  Augustine is judging half the titles on this list and laughing with a sad shake of his head, like it’s cute that you tried to go as hard as “Lady of Konniortus” and you absolutely failed. And those are the ones where he’s not actively rolling his eyes. But more on that in, oh, about 3 houses from now.

The Sixth: Master Warden

OK, but you know who deserves to be smug for her rad naming skills? Cassie. And I say Cassie, to be clear, because I know it’s her name. Or, the name someone who knew the things Cassie knew about the Sixth. Because, really, I think this refers, in an oblique way, to the Break Clause. Because that clause is, well, it’s the key. It’s the key to the literal and metaphorical lock binding the Sixth House to the empire and to the planet. The whole facility is a prisoner, in a way, overseen by its warden. The whole facility is a lock. And do you know what we call the internal jaws of a lock?

Nothing, actually, because there isn’t a part of a lock that one calls “the internal jaws,” I’ve looked up locksmithing terms when google could not avail me. But...I do know that, if Palamedes and the Sixth thinks of a part of the lock as the Internal Jaws, he’s talking about the little metal pieces inside the lock that the key’s teeth and cut are meant to fit into and around, so only the right key will fit. They are jaws in the sense that teeth fit into them.  When Palamedes makes this little riddle during the Fifth’s dinner party, he’s talking about The Wards. And that it can be unlocked, if a key that fits the ward(en)s is produced, is how the Sixth House is like a lock.

I love that for the Sixth. I got so excited about this realization that I went to some lengths to include this line of thinking in a sixth-house centric fic, because it was simply too good to leave out.They went for an elaborate, multilayered self-created reference that refers back to their secret secession plan, and they’ve stuck with that for 10,000 years without giving away the Bit. Good for them. Really, just delightful.

The Seventh: Duchess/Duke of Rhodes (Assumed)

So, this is more or less just like how I read the Fourth’s nomenclature, except they went with Fancy over Cool. It’s very nearly as important as King/Queen, but not quite, which suits them well enough.  Unless there’s a higher rank and Dulcie’s parents have that rank, which they might. It seems implied. They also keep up the theming, with Pro being a Knight of Rhodes. Point is, they, the Third, the Fifth, and the Fourth are all a part of a system of names, with the Fifth a tiny bit set apart, and the Third probably clawing for the top.

The Eighth: Master Templar of the White Glass

I love this title, and part of what I love is that I know Augustine hates it and rolls his eyes every time he hears it. Because I think it’s a Christabel idea. And I say that for a couple of reasons. The biggest being, it sounds very cool but it makes no sense. Like, flash your mind through literally every point at which Silas or the Eighth house are mentioned. How many of them refer to, in any way, anything pertaining to White Glass? Once, only once. Harrow refers to “White glass mysteries,” but that’s it. It’s a mystery. Outside of that, this title only exists, is only referred to, is only acknowledged at all, in the Gideon the Ninth Dramatis Personae. Sure, the Eighth get described with White, and Templars seems reasonable. They are even referred to as White Templars, because, sure, sensible. But White Glass? Is a throw-away concept here, one only Harrow seems to ever think about. It is a cool-sounding title that refers to nothing of any significance. Its only justification is that it’s rad. It’s just a little stupid, but joyfully so.

Which is not a Mercymorn thing. But I can totally see it as a Christabel decision, one she got very excited about. Like, this is the woman who made One Flesh, One End a thing for the next 10,000 years. Christabel seems to love this stuff, and I think if she got cheerfully enthusiastic about it, Mercymorn would go along with it, and that would enshrine it forever.

The Ninth: The Reverend Father/Mother

So, this is another very good one. Like, Anastasia and Cassiopeia are over here thinking of legitimately good and clever titles, ones which contain a duty, and a secret, and it’s the duty at the core of the house’s leadership, at that. Obviously, the idea of a Reverend Mother is one suitable for the Abbess of a nunnery, so that checks out to begin with, but there’s another layer to it, too. A reason why it’s Reverend Mother and not, say, Abbess, that catches my eye post-Nona, but really ought to have caught my eye before that. “Reverend Daughter,” as a position of heirship, is something important because it’s a Ninth invention. The existence of a Daughter or a Son, as opposed to just having Sisters or Brothers and Mothers or Fathers, creates a direct family line within the ruling family. It becomes a bloodline and an abbey in the same breath.

Harrow insists from the Pool Scene onward that it was critical, the whole future of their house, to have an unbroken bloodline of necromancers descended from Anastasia. And at the end of Nona, we see why: Because Anastasia made a pact with Alecto that is recognized as being attached to Anastasia’s descendants, known by blood. They are the unfulfilled vow, Harrow is right! A line of parents and children, reaching back to their original parent, who made a promise. Mothers and Daughters, all the way down. That’s what the House is really for.

A+ Naming, Anastasia. Fantastic. Beautiful.

#The Locked Tomb #TLT #Nona the Ninth Spoilers #Gideon the Ninth #Palamedes Sextus #harrowhark nonagesimus #christabel oct #Augustine the First #mercymorn the first #Cassiopeia the First #Anastasia TLT #Alecto tlt #I'm just saying girls out here are winning on the house titles. Girls and Augustine #I was so haunted by Palamedes' dinner conversation that I had to google #then look up locksmithing terms because google gave me nothing #Then had to scan a list of terms until I found one that I thought would be a pun and then reverse-engineered it #Also on the list that I thought were interesting: Shackle and Cam #Shackle being the hinge on a padlock's locking bar #Relevant to the concept of the prison of course #And Cam being 'Usually a tongue fixed to the end of the plug of a cylinder lock or latch' #Do I think this is deliberate? Probably not. #Do I think it's a cute little coincidence and someone (maybe me but come play with me in this space!) should make hay of it? Definitely yes #I still am haunted by WHAT EVEN IS THE SECOND HOUSE'S ACTUAL LEADERSHIP TITLE AND WHAT DOES IT DO #And I am still haunted by What Makes Naberius a Prince #But the world may never know #silas octakiseron

[lavendermoonlitskies]

Fanfic Friday: fic recs!

Hiii everyone, happy Friday! I forgot that I made a post like this ages ago for fanfic Friday, but I’ve read a bunch since then so here are some recommendations of Good Omens fics I’ve enjoyed recently:

“Heaven isn't built to house a love like you and I” by ItsScottiesStark

Rating: T

Length: 37,291 (8 chapters)

Summary: They did it. They stopped Armageddon. They survived.

This was it, the first time they were actually free to finally figure out what their side entailed.

Aziraphale is a being of love. Always has been. And now, all the love he has for Crowley is free to flow from the edge of his fingertips to the demon's, in a gesture that could only mean one thing; I'm with you. I'm here.

As much as his hands itch to reach out for the love of his existence, his words seem to fail him, time and time again. He knows Crowley deserves more than gentle hand holding and forehead kisses in the dark. He aches to scream his love from the top of his lungs, for the whole world to hear. And the demon knows it.

And he waits. Because he'll wait forever for Aziraphale. Because he knows they are meant to be one.

This one is great at immediately grabbing your attention. It starts on the bus during that scene towards the end of season 1 where Aziraphale holds Crowley’s hand, which very smoothly leads in to this theme of physical contact and how although they’re both unfamiliar with it, it’s secretly something they both long for from the other. Without spoiling too much, they sort of subtly lean into this desire for physical affection in a way that’s incredibly sweet yet almost tragic with how hesitant they are at the start of it. You can tell that they want so desperately to let the other know how much they care, but they still don’t know if the other is on the same page (so “he waits. Because he’ll wait forever for Aziraphale.”). This writer is really great at conveying how much they really love each other, highly recommend!

“Twin Suns” by IneffableDoll

Rating: T

Length: 7,291 words (3 chapters)

Summary: “I thought you were gone,” Crowley mumbled, and it was almost cliché, it was almost the kind of sentimental rubbish he would’ve moaned at had he heard it from someone else. But they were the rawest words he could manage. He’d thought Aziraphale was gone. That was all, and it said everything.

***

Directly following their celebratory meal at the Ritz, Aziraphale and Crowley clash with the feelings that struggle to settle after everything they’ve been through. And, in so doing, learn to rely on and communicate with each other in new ways.

Similar in concept to the previous one I mentioned, this fic takes place after the events of season 1. They get into some real honest conversations (something I love reading in fics because the characters in canon are not at that point yet and I am HUNGRY for some emotional honesty from them), and something I really love about this one is how patient they are with each other. In chapter one Crowley says that he’s not ready for this conversation, and Aziraphale respects that. Without spoiling too much more, they’re both super careful with the other’s boundaries as they kind of start to think and talk more about the love they have for each other that they’ve never really gotten the chance to explore until now. I absolutely love how they take things nice and slow, attentive to how the other is feeling about all of this. This kind of love is a new concept for the both of them, but they wouldn’t want it with anyone else, and so they try. And I think that’s beautiful.

“Icebergs and Angels” by The_Bentley

Rating: T/M (two versions)

Length: 23,498/24,929 words (8 chapters each)

Summary: It's 1912 and Aziraphale, not wanting to be lonely during his mission aboard Titanic, invites Crowley along for a cruise. But he boards the ship before knowing exactly what his mission is. When he learns Heaven wants to teach humanity a lesson for the claim even God couldn't sink it, it could damage his relationship with Crowley, who has his own views on Heaven's need to punish innocents. Can he repair things with Crowley and can they work together to save as many lives as possible?

The concept of this one is so cool, and very much something I could see actually happening in the show as another historical flashback/mini-sode. Aziraphale is given a mission from Heaven that entails many humans losing their lives, he’s obviously not on-board with that, and Crowley is there to help him save as many human lives as possible because, as much as he’d hate to admit it, he really is a nice demon who very much disapproves of Heaven’s disregard for human life. Throughout this one you get to see how the two of them interact with the humans, all while Aziraphale is battling this inner conflict of wanting to just go along with Heaven’s orders without questioning it while simultaneously knowing that it’s wrong. The narration is great, beautifully written and I really felt like the writer understands these characters on a very deep level. There are two different versions of this one, both of which are fantastic. I personally felt that the more platonic/aroace approach to Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship in the context of this particular story was more fitting, but if you’d like something a little spicier I thought that the Mature rated one was just as good! (I’m linking the non-spicy version here, but the link to the spicy one is in the summary!)

#good omens #good omens fic rec #good omens fanfic #good omens fic #good omens fanfic rec #fanfic #fanfic friday #fic recs #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #good omens fandom

[strategicallyignoringmytodolist]

Here's my S3 theory. (I'd be thrilled to hear yours as well.)

I am writing this now so that when S3 finally drops in 24 billion months or whatever, I can look back at my notes and feel very smug and smart. Or laugh at myself for how wrong I got it.

My point is, dolphins. Or rather-- that terrible yet well-written cliffhanger:

At the very very end of S2, as Aziraphale was going up the elevator to Heaven, I'm pretty sure he knew he was going to have to work under cover to prevent the end of the world. Certainly after watching the recordings of Gabriel and what happened when HE protested, Aziraphale would realize that the bureaucracies of Heaven and Hell were determined to get to a final battle.

The Second Coming, from what (admittedly minimal amounts) I've read of it, doesn't have quite as many plot points as the arrival of the Antichrist. Jesus is supposed to show up in a burst of dramatic weather, all the humans who have ever lived are going to be immediately tossed into Heaven or Hell, and... That's about it? (I was actually raised Catholic, but I didn't pay much attention in Sunday school, and as an adult I don't really interact with religion. This isn't my best trivia subject, in other words.)

Anyway, at some sooner-rather-than-later point I think Aziraphale is going to decide to let all the angels and demons who want to fight it out with flaming swords have their go, and he is going to focus on preventing everyone else from getting hurt while that happens. Maybe the final sorting of goodies and baddies is going to involve processing all of humanity through some massive portals. And maybe Aziraphale is going to use his new position of power in Heaven's bureaucracy to change where the portal exit point is. There have been sooo many references to Alpha Centauri in the first two seasons, and that's presumably where Beelzebub and Gabriel went at the end of S2. I bet they would be willing to help with portal setup and receiving refugees on their end.

I'm not entirely certain what Crowley's role will be in S3. I can totally picture Aziraphale coming to him and saying, "Let's run off to Alpha Centauri together, only I've got several billion humans I want to bring with me." Maybe Crowley will have to help with portal setup down in the basement offices of hell. Or maybe he will need to convince Jesus to join Team Save Humanity (Crowley was friendly with Jesus once upon a time and did show him all the kingdoms of the world, after all.)

I think there are going to be some funny bits with the Nazi zombies from past seasons and all the other people who are being raised from the dead.

In the original book, Adam said that Heaven and Hell were a lot like his gang, the Them, and their rival gang, the Johnsonites: They were always trying to beat one another, but it wouldn't be any good if one of them actually did win. Having a rival gives you something to do, after all. I don't think there can ever be a final resolution between good and bad. They're kind of like death -- baked into the system. It's going to be a stalemate.

I also suspect that God is playing a many-layered game. All the demons and angels are helping to judge and deliver consequences to humans for their use of free will. But maybe God is watching all the angels and demons to see whether they understand that being on a team doesn't mean that you can't make your own moral decisions and act outside the party line.

Ultimately I think the battle will end and the human refugees will return to Earth. Our favorite supernatural couple will buy a flat with a garden somewhere, and that's where the story will end -- in a garden, just as it began.

#good omens clues #good omens season 3 #good omens #neil gaiman #argue my point #what do you think? #crowley #aziraphale

[nightgoodomens]

I read a few of your metas as another Crowley fan and I have to ask you- you don’t seem to like anything about aziraphale at all, like all your crit over his character is really harsh. Why would you ship him with Crowley? I Donno, like he does need to learn some stuff and grow, but you make him sound so utterly toxic that he actually drags Crowley down. The way you describe aziraphale, even I don’t want that guy back with Crowley even if he apologizes. I’m wondering what you are seeing that I’m not? Because I do think they had to spit up, but I thought they both had to learn more respect for each other, not just one way. Like to me, Crowley is just more mature than him developmentally, but he can be condescending to aziraphale about it.

I think it is just the impression you got because I recently reblogged a few posts calling out his behaviour and added a few thoughts. But there are only a few compared to hundreds of posts which are in his and Crowley's favour and make it obvious why I ship them. Plus the fanfictions.

I reblog different theories. I like hearing people's thoughts, whether I agree more or less with them. If someone makes an interesting point, I will reblog, even if I don't fully agree.

And I've been impressed how this fandom is open to talking and theorising, instead of introducing a ban on saying anything bad about any character. They're not supposed to be perfect, that's what makes them interesting. So we can call out the mistakes they make. It doesn't mean we hate them, it means we have eyes and a rational, curious mind.

I always said that I know Aziraphale loves Crowley and there was no maliciousness in his behaviour. No matter his mistakes, he DOES love him. We see plenty of evidence of it. Season 2 is full of his love for Crowley. And how can I not love a character that loves my favourite so much? Besides, Aziraphale is interesting. He has as much depth as Crowley. He is meant to be more irritating out of them two, because Crowley is the rational one that speaks to us more, while Aziraphale, after 6 thousand years, still seems to pick Heaven over Crowley and says really hurtful things. He has not developed as we kind of expected him to have developed by now, I guess. But Aziraphale holds onto the past, it is just part of who he is.

But this is where the theorising begins. Crowley was obvious, his behaviour makes sense, of course he would never go to Heaven. There is nothing to question. But Aziraphale gets all those posts where we wonder what made him do what he did, because we simply don't know.

If what he was saying was what he was actually thinking, then he does deserve a bit of backlash. Because to say those things to Crowley after 6 thousand years was utterly shit. But this is a plotting device. We needed one of them to fuck up to develop the story. To have interesting character development later.

But. Did he fuck up? He was never malicious on purpose, so we know he was not trying to be now. So there are plenty of choices:

He truly believed that Crowley would be happy about this. He could restore him to be an angel, because he felt that Crowley should never have fallen. It's a sort of a sweet and innocent thought that would make sense to me. The problem is that he should have known better, but on the surface it's the thought that matters. Still, the harsh words seemed out of place, considering they moved past being hurtful. Again, not maliciously. He was wrong about the restoration, but I love him for caring so deeply because his thoughts were just that - love.

He knew Metatron was lying and asking him to bring Crowley to Heaven to hurt him. So he quickly started acting over the top, knowing that it will confuse Crowley (it did!), throw him off, then he added a few hurtful things to the mix to ensure he would leave. Except he did not know Crowley will choose the moment to confess and kiss him, so he nearly lost it. Nothing to hate here. Again, pure love.

He genuinely just wants to change Heaven? Except he only opened up to the idea when he was offered to take Crowley with him, so I don't believe he is that passionate about Heaven itself. Or he is, but as long as he has Crowley with him. All these theories show that he loves him but he doesn't fully understand him. Not yet.

Honestly, this is why we keep theorising which theory, out of many, some I haven't even listed, is true. Hell knows maybe we are all wrong.

So with some theories I will say well if this is the case then he has a lot to learn. In others I will screech that he loves him so much.

Here are the only facts though:

Aziraphale loves Crowley.

He said hurtful things to Crowley. Never maliciously. But they still deserve calling out.

If the worst theories are true, then we can say wow, you have a lot to learn and that was toxic. NG said he has a lot to learn, so it is just part of his development. But maybe the theories aren't true?

He does not listen to Crowley. Now, I can be frustrated over him dissing Crowley whenever he is trying to tell him something is wrong or that he is worried, but at the same time I love how much he loves him to the point that he doesn't listen because his only priority is e.g. finally being able to dance with Crowley. Demons outside the bookshop? Shut up, let's dance. I mean it is dumbass, but how can you not love him for how obsessed he is with the love of his life.

He does kick Crowley out whenever Crowley does not agree with him, and that is wrong. And Aziraphale struggles to admit when he is wrong. But, yes, he did dance - even if he seems bitter about it so that's not ideal, is it? That's not a sincere apology. I do believe the way he acts is very Heaven like - My Way or High Way - and he probably does not even realise. But we did see development where he admitted he wants Crowley to help and when he shouts he needs him.

Crowley shouldn't be the one apologising when Aziraphale does not deserve the apology, but this is partly Crowley's mistake too, because he should have said 'listen you little shit, I came back here because Hell is out to get you, not because I was wrong'. You know, if they could actually talk...? But I do believe that Crowley just expected stubbornness, so he did not bother, because safety was priority. This is a communication thing they will need to figure out. Important thing someone mentioned, though, is that we need to remember that they were never meant to communicate. They could never be too honest with each other. So their problems are realistic.

The whole miscommunication thing is complicated, because on one hand Crowley doesn't tell him everything because he wants to protect him, but when he tries Aziraphale doesn't always listen, and Aziraphale is known for withholding information from Crowley, too. Again, things they need to work on.

I really could go on and on and on.

I fucking love Aziraphale. I love that he can make me theorise for hours. I love that I can make up scenarios where he gets a middle finger and finally admits he fucked up, or scenarios where he truly thought he's doing the right thing for Crowley, and develops as a character to finally understand him completely, or this is some much deeper plan going on... And hell knows which theory, if any of those theories, are right.

It is not hate to say wow Aziraphale fucked up. It just shows he's a complicated character which is good. It would be so bloody boring if he and Crowley were walking perfections who always did the right thing. You wouldn't see anyone theorising or wondering or making up 100 different scenarios where all or none could be true.

I love him for how much he adores Crowley. I love his love for books and cakes and magic, his cute moments, his eyes full of adoration, that he plays a damsel in distress to see Crowley and invite him for a date, I love his innocence. At the end of the day he is simply trying his best.

How can you not ship them? They have Heaven and Hell against them and yet they always find a way back to each other. Even when they fuck up, when they don't talk properly, their love makes them reach out for each other. Over 6 thousand years at least.

How can you not ship love like that? It has more depth than so many other relationships I have read in my life. But because it has depth it means that there will be mistakes. And that's fine. And you can call them out, it does not cancel your love for either of them, or revokes your ability to ship them.

Keep on criticising, talking, wondering, theorising, making up stories. We're only able to because of how complex they are.

And that's fantastic.

[7sevenrings7]

So Much (For) Stardust - Stolitz (Explicit)

The hold Stolitz has on my SOUL is INSANE. PLEASE, somebody, just let them be happy! *sobs*

So...let's let them have some Good Friday smut. As a little treat.

WARNING: This fic is explicit and is intended for those aged 18+. Fic includes fellatio, ass play, and bondage. Unrelated: Brief and non-descriptive mentions of an apocalypse.

It's definitely not as wild as I could have gone (given the couple), but I wanted to explore the softer side before going into their kinks. Definitely not the last fic of these two.

This will also be posted on ao3 early next week (along with a x reader Hazbin fic if you're interested in those). The prophecy at the beginning will be an integral part of that x reader fic. I was fascinated watching "The Circus" to hear that prophecies were under Stolas's purview and wanted to explore that.

In another life, you were my babe

In another life, you were the sunshine of my lifetime

What would you trade the pain for?

...I'm not sure.

When Hell usurps Heaven

Earthbound its ruler be.

When Heaven quells Hell

The door with no key

Shall present itself

Unto humanity.

And when both fall

So soundlessly

Two stars remain

In shattered realms:

The Light of Lucifer and

The Mourning of Morningstar

To rest reality.

To rest reality.

To rest reality.

To rest reality.

To rest reality.

To rest…reality.

Stolas could still feel the snaps of Lucifer’s shoes as he stalked from the mansion tattooed onto his skin. 

He could never determine when a prophecy would come to him. He could force it - well, kind of - if information was needed. But the harder he tried, the less what arrived made any sort of logical sense.

That he had not tried at all - in fact was actively begging the universe to offer Lucifer only the most straightforward and simplest of answers - haunted him.

I did not sleep with that imp, your grace.

Ozzie saw me there, yes. Unfortunately, I think there may be some sort of misunderstanding. You see, I was just…

You’re a rule breaker, sire. So let’s rewrite the rules! Who’s to say I can’t marry my Blitzy? We’re already FAR more acquainted than Stella and I EVER would be. From one fallen to temptation to another…let me have this. Let me be happy.

Okay…so he was never actually going to use the last one. Fantasy was one thing. Political suicide was another. 

But he also hadn’t planned on spewing the most damnable prophecy that had ever fallen from his beaked lips. One that had come as sure as sin without any of the pleasure.

It did not help that it was the 14th.

Clawed feet dug into the plush red rug in front of his lounging chair that he felt drawn to for the simple fact of wanting something present should he faint. Stolas gasped for air, his hand clutching at nothing and everything all at once as his fingers ruffled through the feathers of his chest.

Where in the Hell will we go?  Stolas frowned, his upper set of eyes shutting against the stray thought as he caught the lower set of eyes began to tear up. What’s safety in the middle of the fucking apocalypse? 

He did not have to ask himself what the rattling of his brown-gray walls meant. As he always did, Blitzo snatched up the window and slithered into the room just as sly as any snake.

“‘Sup, slut” said Blitzo, standing to his full height in front of Stolas. “Ready to take this ‘D’ train to ‘P’ Town? Like…like Pleasure Town. Pleasantville…nah, that’s gaggy. Pound Town! Oh Christ on a stick…why’d it take me that long to get there? It was right there! Could have helped a guy out there, Stolas.”

Faced with his beloved and his ridiculous humor, Stolas found his breath growing even despite the shake in his very bones.

“Blitzy,” he warbled, words seeming to fail him.

“Hm?”

Those yellow eyes stared up at Stolas expectedly and he could not take the slightest of spaces between them any longer.

With a swiftness Stolas gathered Blitzo up in his arms to clutch him against any sliver of skin he could find. It was not an easy endeavor - Blitzo immediately began to wiggle and jolt his head to and fro in annoyance.

“It hasn’t even been that lo- eek!” Blitzo exclaimed, his hands carding through the feathers on Stolas’s chest to give his mouth room to breathe. The touch, as always, served more like fire to Stolas’s blood. “LET ME BREATHE!”

“No,” said Stolas, voice still weighed with sorrow. “No, Blitzy. I need you to listen.”

“List-ng,” mumbled Blitzo.

That Blitzo’s gun was what his hand reached for when Blitzo slid a hand down Stolas’s arm escaped Stolas entirely. He could merely feel his cheeks redden and his groin grow pleasantly hot.

“I received a prophecy today…for the King of Hell,” said Stolas.

“Ah shit,” said Blitzo, perking up and putting his arm stiff by his side. Stolas made a small “mmph” at the loss of contact. “Lucifer? Like the Lucifer? Like the holy fuck…FUCK ME, DADDY…Hell’s Daddy Baddie Bofanawahnahdingdong?”

Squinting at Blitzo as if trying to understand the workings of his mind, Stolas tilted his head. “...yeeeesss?”

Blitzo’s eyes seemed to shine before he wore a strange, almost pondering expression.

“Is he as short as the tabloids say? Because I say that he’s a Short King ™ but noooooo…Moxxie says he’s soooooo tall and that he’s soooooo seen him in person. Like sure, Mox. An absolute nobody like you has seen our supreme ruler without melting into the pavement like a sour strawberry shake. Lick my ass, bitch boy.”

Though Blitzo was not speaking directly to him (that much was clear…it was the little white-haired imp that Stolas had come to know as “bitch boy,” after all), Stolas could not help but smile at his antics. 

“I suppose that would depend on the height of the demon meeting his majesty,” said Stolas plainly.

Blitzo pouted.

“Don’t poke holes in my theory,” he said, whipping his tail lamely against Stolas’s arms still holding him feet above the floor. “Fucking rude.”

Laughing a warm laugh, Stolas snuggled Blitzo into the curve of his neck.

“To answer your question…short.” With a pause, Stolas regarded Blitzo with a hooded look. “Better be careful, Blitzy…you know how I love my short kings…”

That he was referring to Blitzo himself went without question…at least Stolas assumed that it did. The look of confusion on Blitzo’s face made Stolas frown. He took a hand to rub his thumb in a caress across the end of the scar under Blitzo’s eye.

Despite a stray moment of frustration in his brow, Blitzo stiffened entirely before smiling wide.

“You trying to tell me that I could have lost my shameless cum slut? Not much of a threat when I fuck you so good, babe. Speaking of...”

Goetia were practically weightless. It was a fact - a cold one that Stolas did not care to remember when he was busy drooling over the strength it took for Blitzo to flip back before hoisting him into the air. He tossed Stolas onto the waiting and well made bed. 

Stolas landed on the comforter with a laugh and a slight bounce. “Ha ha ha! Hm…but Blitzy…you forget what a world of depravity that you’ve launched me into. A toy or two might be all it takes to replace you.”

The dark of the room prevented Stolas from seeing Blitzo, but he could definitely feel those gold eyes on him.

He could also make out the telltale sound of clothes hitting the floor.

Cold, mirthless laughter filled the room.

With a leap only an imp as impish as Blitzo could make, there he was…crouched on the foot of the bed. Those eyes of his narrowed even as Stolas drunk in the view. The splotches of white dancing among the red. The lithe chest and the promising outline between his legs.

The cowboy boots Blitzo always wore and always refused to take off.

When Blitzo spoke, it was with a hiss befitting his forked tongue.

“Be useful for once and restrain yourself.”

Stolas frowned. There were parts of Blitzo’s life that he simply did not talk about. Hurts that Stolas seemed to commit without being quite certain of what he had done. 

And the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt the one he loved. So he settled into a role he knew Blitzo approved of.

“Yes, daddy,” Stolas practically purred. “I’m so sorry for being so…mouthy.”

That seemed to improve Blitzo’s mood if his smile and his slither up the bed were any indicators. With politeness, Stolas made to forget and ignore the scratchy slip of Blitzo’s boots on his satin sheets. 

Handcuffing himself to his headboard was not a task completely unknown to Stolas. It was, however, unavoidably awkward. 

“If you’re so sure that you can have so much pleasure without me…let’s remind you what I can do without all the bells and whistles. See how your smug ass likes that.” Blitzo was close enough now to clasp Stolas’s light chin in his large hand and lean forward to whisper. “Mouthy. Real cute. I’ll show you mouthy, your majesty.”

The nasty tone in Blitzo’s voice was definite cause for concern…

…but not quite as much as the imp literally ripping the clothes from Stolas’s body.

“OH!” Stolas exclaimed, his wrists already the sweetest type of uncomfortable. “Oh, Blitzy, yes!”

The blush that colored Stolas’s cheek was like a drug to get high off of. He certainly felt high as all four eyes danced in delight with the dark of the canopy bed swirling around him. After Lucifer had left, Stolas had found his cape and his crown discarded in some hallway or room in his grief. So the red tunic he wore was the very first to go. He thrust his chest toward Blitzo desperate for contact.

Blitzo simply moved to catch Stolas’s beige trousers in his digging claws. They came off without protest - without need for the speed with which they were thrown. 

Stolas’s blush deepened when he realized his thick tongue had been sticking out of his panting beak.

“Look at you,” said Blitzo, his tone both appreciative and aggravated. “Prettier than any Moan-a-Leeso.”

That Blitzo had no idea what the hell he was talking about was evident.

But his intent meant enough. Meant enough to make Stolas stretch and sigh and savor the burn of the restraints despite wanting nothing more than to grab hold of his lover.

“You…think I’m that pretty?” Stolas ventured.

Blitzo managed a nod before his tongue caught Stolas’s.

The Goetia could have cried.

Kissing Stella had been nothing like this. He had once wondered what anyone found fascinating about romance when kissing her was the same as kissing a cardboard box or the back of his hand.

But Blitzo? Oh, Blitzo made him burn. Made him want to be lost in him forever. Made him want to be reckless and reasonless and all the things he had been warded against as a child. 

Too soon Blitzo was pulling away with Stolas following him as far as his restraints would allow.

“Ah, ah, ah,” said Blitzo haughtily. “You’re making me forget where I was…my little dick-straction. Oh yes…”

Blitzo was sure to caress and clasp at every bared bit of feather that Stolas had on display as he made his way down the dark lord’s body. The plush feathers of Stolas’s thighs quivered when Blitzo carded his fingers through them.

That he was already hard was a battle Stolas lost mere moments after seeing Blitzo. But the first reverent twist of Blitzo’s hand on his cock made Stolas choke on air. 

For his part, Blitzo waited until all of Stolas’s eyes were squarely back on him before smirking.

“Being mouthy,” said Blitzo.

Being with Blitzo was like experiencing every vibrant bit of life all at once. It could be overwhelming and only the slightest bit overstimulating. Both seemed apt descriptions of Blitzo’s tongue twirling the head of his dick as if it were the last lollipop in Hell. 

This imp would be the end of him.

“FUCK yes,” Stolas exclaimed.  

What Blitzo did not fit into his mouth, he shoved into a hand instead. His fingers curled and quickened at such a lovely rate that Stolas did not quite think to care where Blitzo’s free hand was. 

Then a finger pressed soft but steady against the feathers of Stolas’s backside.

Stolas knew the way he spread his thighs wider at the sensation and raised his tail feathers would be considered brazen. The act of nothing more than a common whore. 

But maybe whores were onto something when it felt this damn good. 

Being that Stolas knew Blitzo was coming over, he had naturally prepared himself accordingly. But in the rush to the bed, he had forgotten the lube. Words were trying to form into sentences in his brain to warn Blitzo…but then the curiously gentle swirl of Blitzo’s finger left the round of the hole he had finally found.

It was soon replaced with Blitzo’s tongue.

One hand still working the Goetia’s dick, Blitzo allowed the other to hoist one of Stolas’s long legs into the air as he slowly but surely licked and lapped and lounged within the other’s ass. The crudeness of it all made the feathers on Stolas’s chest practically burst forth as he squealed in delight - pleasure and pointed avoidance of responsibilities clashing into the sweetest sensation. 

Tongue snapping up suddenly, Blitzo chuckled when Stolas groaned in protest. 

“What’s the matter? Not so easy to replace now, am I?”

The force and the bite of those words caught Stolas off guard, made him blink almost drunkenly down at Blitzo. “What? Blitzy…I could…I could never replace you.”

A myriad of emotions flitted across Blitzo’s face. None landed quite right or for any more than a moment. But when you had four eyes to catch details, you caught enough. 

Shock.

Sadness.

Searching…but for what?

“Well…that’s…” Something like a cough or a wheeze escaped Blitzo. “Oh fuck me…that’s…good.”

Before Stolas was able to say more - to ask what would possess Blitzo - his Blitzy - to assume he was replaceable, the imp had lowered his mouth back lower than low. The pressure of that tongue - thin though it was - seemed too much at first. Unpleasant. Stolas grimaced and was about to ask to shift positions when the dual tips of Blitzo’s tongue ran against that spot.

“FuuuuuUUUUUuuccckk-KH!”

With a mind like Stolas’s, quiet was hard to be found. He always had to be ready to perform his duties at a moment’s notice. There were wars to stave off…faraway stars to map…dreams to bring to reality or to immediately crush. It did not matter if he was simply lounging with a lovely red wine and a good book…his thoughts always persisted.

Now, with his dick thrusting weakly into Blitzo’s warm hand and his mind scattered by the sheer sensitivity of his ass, the only thoughts in his head were of that delightfully crimson cutie pie giving him the most divine of pleasures. 

Any discomfort was soon forgotten as Blitzo bobbed his head and let the wet heat of his mouth graze between Stolas’s legs before falling back further again. 

“Yeah…yeah make me wear your tongue as a fucking plug,” Stolas rambled loudly, both humiliated and turned on by his own words.

Blitzo, gracious as ever, obliged. 

Normally Stolas’s stamina would allow for more fun, but after an exhausting day and being called “pretty” by Blitzy, he was desperately welcoming the build of pressure at the bottom of his stomach. It did not help that Blitzo’s fingers were now focusing on the head of Stolas’s cock in jerks that spoke of well known weak spots.

“Blitzy…Blitzy, please…I’m so close…I’m so…!”

The speed with which Blitzo switched his tasks - set his mouth to Stolas’s cock and two fingers into Stolas’s ass - was astounding.

Stolas could barely appreciate it for the peak of his pleasure striking him all at once…tearing down the trappings of a prince and making him putty in his lover’s mouth. 

Oh how he longed to stroke Blitzo’s jaw as the imp swallowed his cum. 

The moans from Blitzo as he lapped at Stolas’s dick did nothing to quell this want.

“Touch you,” rasped Stolas, inhaling sharply. “Want to…touch you.”

Pulling the softening cock from his mouth, Blitzo frowned. “Too damn bad. Now stick out your tongue…”

Though he quickly and dearly missed the fingers that had been stroking the inside of him, Stolas giggled almost maniacally. “Fuck yes! Yes! Come to me, Blitzy!”

Sorrowfully, Stolas’s beak did not allow him the abandon he would so adore to have when providing fellatio. But there were always ways around this. One particular gag Stolas had found in a luxury sex shop in the Lust Ring usually helped to give enough range without putting Blitzo in harm’s way. 

Tonight…tonight he needed him so desperately that he would forego his pride to give Blitzo what he needed.

Presented with the gorgeously long red cock that he so loved, Stolas stuck out his tongue as far as he could…then past that.

“Christ, we’re eager,” Blitzo chuckled. “Say ‘ahhh,’ baby.”

Stolas could not say anything at all and instead made an awkward humming noise before feeling the weight of his beloved settle onto his tongue. He certainly must have been a sight…all-powerful dark lord of Hell second only to the Sins and their families themselves…reduced to craning his mouth wider than wide to worship the dick of an imp. 

The rhythm, thankfully, was soft but steady. Blitzo moved his hips slightly as Stolas’s tongue lathered up and down his dick, his balls, his…

“OHohohohoheeeee! That kind of tickled,” Blitzo giggled.

Heart pounding in his chest, Stolas stopped himself from embracing his darling imp to preen on him until his heart’s content. He’s so raw and real and rippling with sex…oh, Blitzy. 

Salt and sweat. It was the taste of fine wine…of ambrosia…of something so indulgent as to be gluttonous. 

Oh FUCK…I never called Bee back about the quarterly reports…ah…later. Busy now.

Blitzo’s hand came up to tug back the feathers at the back of Stolas’s head and Stolas writhed beneath him.

“That’s right,” said Blitzo encouragingly. “Suck daddy’s dick just how he likes it.”

Horror sent chills down Stolas’s spine when he let out a horrible slurping noise as his tongue rounded that red cock over and over. It was unattractive and gargling…embarrassing in its earnest enjoyment.

But then Blitzo was mumbling…was saying things that sounded strangely like “Fuck, that’s hot.” 

So Stolas continued. 

“FUCK me…fuck me,” Blitzo grunted, his hips snapping quicker to meet Stolas’s wild rhythm. 

It was the clutch of those long fingers against Stolas’s skull that let him know his effort was about to be rewarded. He thought of their last roll in these same sheets…how Blitzy had sat his cute little ass right onto Stolas’s face and use that blessedly long tail to jerk Stolas off at the same time.

A repeat would be marvelous…but perhaps later…now…now I just want it to be about you, Blitzy.

In the quiet seconds before Blitzo came, the two locked eyes. Trembling, Stolas dropped his gaze while willing his tongue to continue even as the burn at the base of his mouth cried out.

Little longer…little longer…don’t you dare take this away from him…you can do it…

Colorful strings of curses filled the air as Blitzo finally came. Stolas tried to shoot him a wanton look even as he lapped at the cum being shot down his throat.

But Blitzo glanced away, his breathing ragged. 

It might have hurt if those hips had not gone backwards to remove himself from Stolas’s grasp before the imp collapsed onto the Goetia’s body.

“Mmmmhmhmhm,” Blitzo moaned. “Daddy want sleepy now.”

Laughing a loving laugh, Stolas gave into temptation and preened - his beak shuffling and clacking against those large horns. “Get some sleep, Blitzy.”

Seemingly beyond tired, Blitzo rolled off of Stolas and onto the empty side of the bed.

His side of the bed, Stolas corrected himself quickly.

…if only.

Several moments of silence passed. Stolas gathered his breathing and slid his hands from the restraints with practiced ease. 

He was almost too afraid to turn his head to look at Blitzo. The imp was still there - his weight equivalent to little more than a small dip in the bed.

But if he looked…would Blitzo remain? Or would he disappear like a dream?

Like so many times before?

Stolas heard Blitzo snoring and his heart sunk and rose all at once.

“I’m so scared, Blitzy,” said Stolas softly, sweeping the line of secretive. “I have absolutely no idea what any of this means and…and all I know is that I saw you. During the prophecy. In the madness of a planet’s end…it was only for a moment…but I’d recognize you anywhere.” 

The chuckle that hung in his chest was hollow and forced.

“I…I want you to come with us…with Octavia and I.” Stolas smiled when a loud snore bubbled and popped from Blitzo’s mouth. “You can even bring Loona and your two little imps from the agency. I…I haven’t quite figured out where we’ll go…but for as long as I’m able, I’ll protect you.”

He turned then, confident in Blitzo’s sleep. The imp was turned with his back facing Stolas - bare and spiked and intoxicating.

But now…now was not the time for that.

Scooting carefully and quietly, Stolas laid a hand in the space between the two. When he clutched at the sheets, he might have been doing so to keep himself from touching Blitzo once more. For there always was the promise and panic of the next time.

The next time…

“I don’t know…I can’t…I think…”

Blitzo stirred in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible. Stolas eyed him, hopeful. But Blitzo did not wake.

Inch by tiny inch, Stolas shifted to Blitzo until he was flush against his back. Although Blitzo swatted at him at first, he soon settled. Stolas had been rigid yet still - trained in years of proper decorum and terrified of waking the imp.

If Blitzo woke up, he would leave.

If Blitzo left, Stolas may never see him again.

He can’t be your bird in some gilded cage, he thought woefully. Blitzy would hate that…but if he could…if he would just…

What Stolas wished Blitzo to do, exactly, he could not lay a finger on. 

Like him?

Love him?

Marry him?

Or, perhaps, he thought, relaxing into the bed and Blitzo and all the bliss of the night, I’d just like him to stay.

Blitzo never had, of course…stayed after one of their rendezvous. Had come close and had even fallen asleep before. But Stolas knew far too well it never made a difference. He shouldn’t get his hopes up. He shouldn’t…Hell, he shouldn’t be doing this to begin with.

Yet just when Stolas began to frown, he felt what at first seemed like vibrating from Blitzo. Slightly alarmed (and only slightly aroused), he glanced over Blitzo’s shoulder trying to make sense of the senseless situation when it struck him.

Purring.

Blitzo was purring in his arms.

Despite himself and his own horror-filled prophecy, Stolas grinned a wide grin and cuddled into one of Blitzo’s horns.

Maybe - just maybe - this could be enough.

Maybe - just maybe - this should be a new beginning.

Maybe - just maybe - this time he would stay.

…maybe.

#helluva boss #stolitz #stolas #stolas goetia #blitzo x stolas #helluva boss stolas #blitzo #stolas x blitz #smut #fanfic

[sixeyesgojo]

all i want for christmas is you

☾ Summary: May all your Christmas and New Year's wishes come true.

☾ Characters: Hitsugaya Toshiro x Reader

☾ Word count: ~1,7k

☾ Content warning: reader is actually not shy but they're a simp, sweet heavens, Christmas, not a Gin fic (as I told a certain tumblr user), i was bribed to name it this way

☾ A/N: In this moment they knew that they (@shirohyorin) were not reading a Gin fic, as I told them but I hope they're happy anyways. Happy New Year, my friend. Yes, this is dedicated to you.

Running around in the different barracks was a real workout. It was kind of enjoyable though, considering you were handing out presents for Christmas to your friends. With a slight dance in your step, you gave out gifts to all the lieutenants and captains. You made sure that each and every box came with a small note.

“‘Thank you for your hard work. You did well! Merry Christmas ♡’,” Izuru read out loud. “Why are you thanking me like this? It’s what I’m supposed to do after all.”

Izuru was always… like this. You laughed, “But hearing a ‘thank you’ from time to time doesn’t hurt! Even if it’s literally your job and you are doing what you’re supposed to do. Isn’t it nice to hear it?” He looked at the note again, then put the tiny package into his shihakusho. “I suppose you’re right. But I see that you have some more presents to deliver, so I shouldn’t disturb you anymore,” he smiled at you. He was kind enough to tell you where some of the other members of the Gotei 13 might be.

Indeed, just as Izuru told you, you found Shuhei and Rangiku together in a meeting room. “Oh my God! Thank you! Waaah, I didn’t expect to get a present from anyone this year!” Rangiku beamed. Shuhei smiled very sweetly at you too. “Thank you for the gift. I appreciate it a lot, really. It feels nice to hear a ‘thank you’.” “I’m happy that you guys like it,” you said. “There is no way we wouldn’t like it. It’s from you after all,” Rangiku patted your shoulder affectionately.

You spent some more time talking to the two of them, but eventually, it was time to go. So, you said goodbye to them and ran off. But not without someone—Rangiku—seeing right through you, identifying your plans and teasing you for it. Were you truly that predictable? There was one last present you absolutely had to hand out today. His. You usually didn’t play favorites with your friends but to you, it was the most important one.

As he was a busy man, there was no time to waste. Maybe he had already gone somewhere else? Would you still be able to find him?

You were lucky. The man you were looking for was not in his office, as you guessed. Instead, he seemed to be going somewhere. You called out his name and started running towards him.

Upon hearing his name, he stopped in his tracks, and he turned around. His hair followed his motions perfectly. It made you want to touch his soft hair so badly for a moment. His face was so chiseled and the— You shook your head. No more distractions in front of the man himself.

“Captain Hitsugaya!” you called again. “I have something to give to you!”

“Toshiro,” he corrected you. “What is it?” the white-haired man asked you with a quizzical look on his face. Finally catching up to him, you tried to explain but something about this man made you fluster, “Nothing much. Just a little present… as a ‘thank you’ of sorts!” Words seemed to be lost within you whenever you were around him. “I wanna… thank you for your hard work this year. You work hard and, uh, I think that’s very admirable and… that’s pretty cool.” And your wits seemed to leave you to your own devices as well. Why is it that, whenever you were around Toshiro, you would become embarrassingly shy?

“I see,” he nodded, “Hearing you thank me personally is enough for me already. But seeing that you went out of your way to find me… I will take it. Thank you very much.”

It wasn’t exactly the words you dreamed of. The man you were crushing on took the gift from your hand. While doing so, he brushed your fingers ever so slightly and it made you forget about his wording quickly. Instead, you were left breathless. Too busy containing the volcano of emotions that erupted in your chest, you missed the slightly embarrassed look on his face as he realized what he accidentally did. The giddy feeling that was blossoming inside quickly spread throughout your whole body. There was no way you could soothe your fluttering heart after this. And yet, your mind told you not to butcher this chance.

“Actually,” you started, “this was only one part of the present. I will drop by again!” It was far-fetched. After all, what could a ‘part two’ to self-made cookies possibly be? That’s right, your present to everyone was self-made cookies but you included a special one for Toshiro. Your lie regarding a second part of the gift was only an excuse to see him again. Seeing him healthy and happy was all that mattered to you, and you wouldn’t dare asking for more.

“Feel free to do so, I am looking forward to it,” Toshiro replied with a smile. You were too mesmerized by his smile and the crinkle in his eyes that you missed the sort of bashful yet sincere tone in his voice.

Snapping back to reality, you excused yourself and left. Your heart was beating like crazy. There was no way he didn’t hear that. You usually were someone who was headstrong and confident in your skillset. And yet, every fiber in your entire body seemed to turn into jelly as soon as you were in the presence of this man. You shook your head. How could he have so much power over you? How would things unfold if you continued to behave like that around him? Wouldn’t he think you were too distant with him compared to how you behaved around the other shinigami? Something had to change.

True to your word, you appeared in front of him in his office again a few days later with a new neatly wrapped package. You managed to hold a conversation for longer, with less brain malfunctions caused by him this time. And he seemed to notice it too. The smiles adorning his lips were more frequent and as stunning as before. However, with the new year approaching, you mustered the courage to be more truthful about your feelings.

“I don’t mean to meddle with your business but I am curious. I’m looking forward to the second part of your cookies. They were delicious, by the way,” the white-haired captain said. Oh no, he had figured you out, didn’t he? With a surge of confidence, you admitted, “I honestly just wanted to have an excuse to see you.”

For a moment, awkward silence unfolded in the room. Not a word was uttered. The tension in the air felt thick and heavy. Had you ruined it? Your mind ran at one hundred miles… until he spoke.

“In that case, come visit me again on New Year's Eve. I have something to give to you too… ‘as a thanks, of sorts’,” he quoted you, “But for now, I have to leave. Emergency, sort of. Thanks again for your gift.”

Seeing how he was in a rush to leave for whatever duties he had to attend to, you nodded, excused yourself and left before he did. Little, did you know that Toshiro only said that so he could deal with his racing heart by himself.

New Year’s Eve came quickly. You pranced around in the yard, heart threatening to jump out of your chest. Anyone who walked by must have thought you were insane but you were incredibly nervous to see your crush after being so bold to admit that you created an excuse, just to see him. Were you underdressed? Or maybe overdressed?

Mustering up courage, hand on the doorhandle, you opened the door and entered.

There he was, the man of your heart. Stunning as always. He approached you. “You really came,” Toshiro remarked. Chuckling, you responded, “Of course. I couldn’t help but be curious about what you wanted to give to me… and I wanted to see you.”

He laughed, “Ah, about that. Here you go. Merry Christmas… or maybe I should say Happy New Year?”

In the palm of his hands was… a folded piece of paper? Is that what he wanted to give to you? Your heart sank. “Open it,” you heard him say. And so you did.

In neat handwriting, you read something that you have longed to hear for such a long time. A tiny part of you regretted it because of the outburst of emotions you were undoubtedly going to have.

“‘I wanted to see you too.’,” you read out loud. You read it over and over again, mind not processing what was written in black ink. Were you dreaming? If yes, you never wanted to wake up from this wonderful dream. You couldn’t take your eyes off of the paper until…

“Look at me, please,” he said. You hesitated for a moment but did as he said regardless. There was no better way than to start the new year looking at such a beautiful man, you thought. But fate had planned something else for you.

Right in time, fireworks outside started to go off. Midnight. For an instant, a desire ghosted through your head: You wanted to kiss him.

Before you could shake that thought off, you felt warm hands gently holding your face. There was no way, right? You tried rationalizing and denying it in your head… until you felt his lips on yours. Every thought in your head ceased to exist. Your body felt weightless, as if you were floating. So this was how heaven felt like. You wanted to bask in this happiness forever, but unfortunately, it didn’t last long enough. Toshiro broke the kiss. A red tinge spread on his cheeks.

“Happy new year,” he started, “Since you wanted to be more honest with your feelings, I decided to do the same… and I heard that failing to kiss someone ensures loneliness in the new year.”

“Oh… that’s true, I heard the same. That’s why you should kiss me again. Just to make sure. In fact, never stop,” you declared devilishly and gently pulled him closer by his collar.

“True to the motto ‘two is better than one’?” he smiled, leaning in. His shyness from earlier dissolving already.

“Yes, but as you know, the third time’s the charm,” you smiled back and closed the gap between the two of you.

#hitsugaya x reader #hitsugaya toshiro x reader #toshiro x reader #bleach x reader #bleach fanfiction #hitsugaya fluff