#galacticforces

[hodgepodgebitches]

|| CLOSED || Dream & Aziraphale ||

@galacticforces

Dreams request for an audience with the new supreme archangel had been met with delays and bureaucracy, something that he hated but knew how to deal with well enough. Once he was finally in front of the Archangel he took the seat in the mans office offered to him, visiting Heaven no matter how rare was always more pleasant than visiting hell. On the surface at the very least.

"Supreme Archangel, I've come to you because I have a problem. There is currently a mutual acquaintance of ours refusing to leave my realm."

[dccontramundum]

“anyone touches you, says anything to you, so much as looks at you the wrong way- you come get me, and i’ll set them straight. understand?” ~@galacticforces ((Joan taking him out somewhere with her friends))

MORSE'S STOMACH DOES A FLIP. That makes him feel... something. It definitely shouldn't, but it does. Quickly, he tries to backtrack in his mind, reverse the sudden warm feeling before it takes hold properly.

FOR A START, THAT WON'T HAPPEN. Why would somebody touch him? Why would somebody say something to him? And if they did, he could definitely handle it himself. He doesn't need protecting. If something happens, he'll be fine, because he handles that sort of thing every day at work. Teasing, jokes made at his expense, being looked at in a particular way... he deals with that just fine. Doesn't he?

HE DOES. He knows he does. He ignores it all, from the rolling of eyes to the pointed jabs and cruel teasing about his interests and hobbies. But... hasn't he thought, every now and then, about what it might feel like if someone did say something? As soon as his mind goes there, instead of successfully finding its way back to a normal response, he's burning with shame. Not only does he like what she's just said, but he's thought about it before! To even acknowledge it is excruciating. Morse likes the thought of being defended, being protected. How completely humiliating. He's not supposed to indulge those thoughts when they happen as fleeting wishes or fantasies, never mind when he's supposed to be having a normal conversation with Joan.

THIS ISN'T GOING WELL. His eyes are wide and he's definitely blushing, and he really needs to say something or this silence is going to linger too long. "Well, I'm sure... nobody I know will be there. So..." he trails off. Really? That's the best he can come up with? All he's really done is suggest that if there were people he knows there, then something might happen. Great. "I'll be fine," he clarifies quickly, shaking his head. "But, um, thank you."

[spideystark]

|| CLOSED || Peter & Tony ||

@galacticforces IS GIVING ME MY LIFE BLOOD, A PARENT CHILD PLATONIC SOULMATE PLOT

"I said I was fine, Mr. Stark. I heal quick! If I don't get home soon Aunt May is gonna be real worried." Honestly the massive streak of road rash on his left side didn't feel great. He probably should have used the webs to help mitigate the crash, but he was already right there and the car was coming right towards him. He'd just moved on instinct, he could handle catching a car!

"All I need is a shower and some sleep." Yet he'd come to the tower willingly enough, and now he was sitting in a room in shorts and a t-shirt waiting with Tony for one of the Avengers medical staff to come look at him.

[hodgepodgebitches-temp]

|| CLOSED || Crowley & Aziraphale ||

@galacticforces (⁠/⁠¯⁠◡⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠◡⁠)⁠/⁠¯⁠ ⁠~⁠ ✨✨✨

Crowley knew he should have just done as he was supposed to; brought the baby to the convent, switched it out to the parents that were suppose to raise it. Instead here he was, pulling up to the bookshop at a much more reasonable speed than he usually drove with one hand stretched across to make sure that the basket in it didn't slide around. When he turned off the bentley he didn't go inside right away, taking a second to try and decide what he was going to say before giving up and pulling the basket out of the car as he made his way into in shop.

Luckily with the way he walked it wasn't hard to make the basket gently swing back and forth as he did, hoping to keep the baby inside content enough not to start crying just yet. When he opened the bookshop door and saw Aziraphale turn to look at him from his desk he pulled the door shut, a small miracle pulling the blinds closed as he reached up to pull off his glasses.

“So, don't be upset-” It was at that moment that the infant decided that it was time to start crying from his place inside of the basket.

[lietwice]

        @galacticforces​ said: ❝ how long are you gonna lay on me like this? ❞ ~galacticforces (Julian)

        FLUFFY AND CUTE PROMPTS

        JULIAN’S CHEST SEEMS TO HUM AS HE SPEAKS.    The vibration doesn’t bother him so much as add to his relaxation, however. It’s a remarkably soothing combination of sensory input; the gentle vibration beneath his cheek where it rests against Julian, and the sound of his voice, close and yet similarly distant. Ignorable, perhaps. He could let it float, unacknowledged, in the cool air around them. How long would Julian let his words go ignored? It could be amusing to find out, but alas, there is a more entertaining way to respond. Garak sighs.

        “OH, I WOULDN’T EVEN CARE TO HAZARD A GUESS.”    He could choose to release Julian at any time, but there are so many factors preventing such an easy solution, and why, after all, shouldn’t Garak allow these factors to interfere? Why should he choose to release him, unimpeded? The warmth, for example, emitting from Julian’s body, should prevent him from doing so. Humans are so terribly warm to the touch. It’s like having a hot water bottle beneath him! Who is Garak to argue with such an obvious solution to the chill of the station?

        EVEN BEYOND THE IMMEDIATE SITUATION, THERE ARE MATTERS TO CONSIDER.    If Garak were to release Julian, the young doctor might wander off and go and do something dreadfully boring like research. He overworks himself quite enough as it is, and so to do something which might further the problem... well, it’s quite unacceptable, to say the least. Who can possibly say, then, how long Garak will lay on him? It doesn’t seem as though these interfering factors will be changing much, so there is currently no reason to move. A lazy smile spreads across Garak’s face. “As you humans say, what is the length of a piece of thread?” 

[adriftxshifter]

[Unplotted starter for Jack Harkness @galacticforces]

Zara didn't know where they were. Or when they were. Human history wasn't their strong point, but they were fairly certain that the humans by which they were currently surrounded were nowhere near the level of social or technological development they'd later reach. All they knew was that a few moments ago, they were trying very unsuccessfully to play mediator in a drunken argument between a pair of Andorian cargo haulers, and now they were here. Wherever "here" was.

A poster on the side of a building confirmed the date and location. Cardiff, Wales, 2006. Great, they thought to themself. Time travel. You know, one normal day would be nice.

They noticed, as they examined their reflection in the glass of the window, that they still appeared Trill. This wouldn't do, not so long before first contact. Covering their face with their hands, unwilling to risk someone seeing them shapeshift, they willed the distinctive spots to fade.

That's much better.

Now, all they needed to do was lie low until they could figure out how they'd gotten into their current predicament, and how to get back home.

[dccontramundum]

[ irresistable ] sender taunts receiver by easing closer, promising a kiss, and then backing away, making receiver chase their lips - @galacticforces

SHE'S SO PRETTY. He's feeling smitten tonight. Not that he isn't always, but tonight is the first night he's been home at a reasonable time in a week or so, and he's missed having time to just be with Joan terribly. He's been gazing at her from his end of the sofa all evening, hanging on her every word, and when she begins to ease closer, he smiles in anticipation of a kiss and leans in. And in. And further in. And still, he doesn't meet her lips. Morse makes an affronted noise, suddenly off-balance, opening his eyes wide to stare at her. Such betrayal! He gives chase quickly, moving into her space to try and steal the kiss, insistently affectionate.

[dccontramundum]

@galacticforces asked: ❛ so good for me. look how much you came. keep that up and this kid may just come out a redhead. ❜ ~galacticforces, Joan

HE MUST BE SO TRANSPARENT. She's learning him easily, it seems, to have gotten so good so quickly at knowing what turns him on. If his body was physically capable of it so soon, he'd be hard again right now. Morse doesn't look at how much he came. He's definitely made a mess, and he's revealed several things about himself this evening in doing so. The fact that being praised and being teased do something for him, for one. Although he's already finished, there is one more thing his body seems intent on revealing about him -- he doesn't like for things to come to any sort of sudden stop. He likes a lot of stimulation, and he doesn't like it going from everything to nothing all at once. Morse is still draped half-over her. He's feeling relaxed enough not to stop himself from gently rocking against her side, little movements that serve to rub his whole body against hers, his face buried in her neck, even though he knows she'll notice. "You wouldn't want that," he mumbles, choosing not to respond to the parts of what she's just said that are making him blush. It's one of many methods he has for trying to avoid her noticing when he likes something. "My genes. Not... not good."