#specsgod

[clicklickbangtan]

Look at my baby serving some looks.

[alanhumphries]

HC+Orange

Send me  “HC”  + a word and I’ll write a headcanon about it.

Alan's base reaction to the scent of orange is one of disgust. It’s not that the smell itself unpleasant; the person he associates it with is. He had a fling in his early years as a Reaper with someone whose signature scent was (and still is) blood orange. Alan lost interest, but Oliver never quite got over the rejection.

[alanhumphries]

Ayyyy William and Oliver for the threesome meme

Suggest two people for my muse to have a 
threesome with and my muse will tell you yes or no."... A somewhat hesitant yes."William? Alan could absolutely get behind that... or in front; he has no preference. Oliver, though... they had their trysts while in training, but Oliver didn't keep Alan's interest (which was very frustrating for Mr. Morrison since he's 1. exceedingly vain, 2. disgustingly attractive, and 3. usually the one to get bored first). So Alan would be willing to give this threesome a go. There would likely be tension - and probably not of a good variety - between Oliver and William, but who knows, maybe that would translate well in bed.

[alanhumphries]

♥ with specsgod because IMAGINE THE SNOBBINESS

Send me ♥ and I’ll write a drabble of our muses as parents.

Pressing his forehead against the cold metal door, he could just barely make out a string of light curses coming from the next room, and he felt almost ashamed for not being by her side right then, but he was sure she didn’t want him there and, quite frankly, he wasn’t sure he could face that sober.

There had been moments up until now that he’d been sure this was all some terrible dream - he’d almost convinced himself of it a time or two. But this dream had been going on for nine months now and it didn’t seem it was one he’d awaken from after all. This was his new reality. He, Oliver Morrison, unabashed and strict homosexual (he kept reminding himself of this; this was very important to him) Spectacles playboy, had not only touched a woman, but fathered a child with her.

At least she is attractive, he told himself as a second round of curses came through. It all but guaranteed the child would be pretty, as well, and that, truthfully, was what was keeping him from leaving. That was petty, he realized, but a child was never anything he’d ever desired or considered; being Death itself and sexually inclined in the way he was, it - this - had never so much as crossed his mind.

A thin cry rang out.

Everything after that was a blur and all Oliver knew was that he was sure his heart was in his throat.

But he soon realized it had been placed in his arms. A tiny, wrinkled, pink thing with a shock of white blond hair and the startling green eyes both he and its mother shared.

“He looks like you,” Cecelia said with a wry smile.