themindofcc replied to your post “oh no oh no oh no no no no no”
It's ok crowley is dyslexic and thought that's how it's spelled
A dyslexic queen
@inaudiblysticky replied to your post “oh no oh no oh no no no no no”
*crowley googling the constellation after 6000 years + before time when he helped built it* oh fuck it’s spelt like What
I like the idea someone had a typo on the stars og paperwork and that someone is very dyslexic Crowley
he did his best (like me) but yes he just did a goof and has to realize it thousands of years later.
Gosh!!!!! Im back again to say that I get really excited when you post (I have notifs turned on) and all the content you produce fills me with glee!!!!!!!! You have cured my depression, congrats
Hi! I'm very excited about this GO event but I'm more of an artist than a writer, can I submit art for this event instead of fanfiction or is this a writing-based event?
I hope you don’t mind me answering this on the blog, as I thought other artists might be interested in the answer. All sorts of works are welcomed for the rom com event! If you, as an artist, would like to claim your own rom com and produce art to that theme, that would be wonderful! If you would be more interested in pairing up with an author and producing a work in conjunction with an author’s work for a certain rom com, I can help you broker that, as well. I’m open to anything that will help us put more wonderful GO content out into the world. :)
Hello yes can I order one (1) Taakitz ficlet of them going out for coffee? Literal pure fluff if ya please
“Taako,” says Kravitz, “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but what the fuck is that?”
One of the nicer things, he’s learned, about dressing like the expensive widow of a nineteenth-century industrialist is that when he commandeers a window seat at the local Starbucks, people tend to leave him alone. Today their spot is, as Taako would put it, some seriously prime real estate. From where he lounges against the glass, Kravitz has a perfect view of the ornate, metallic skyscrapers lining the other side of the street, towering over the scores of commuters that stream past and check their reflections in the mirrored surface. It’s the picturesque frame of an urban scene and right now, it’s all his.
Granted, he’s really more interested in the view that’s just sidled up from the front counter. Taako’s idea of “dressing down” still manages to send heat flaring along the back of his neck; today, it’s a cable knit sweater and leggings, complete with a pair of light blue leg-warmers that couldn’t be more eighties if it tried. He swings his braid over one shoulder, sets Kravitz’s mocha in his hand with a flourish, and climbs up onto the window seat. Obligingly, Kravitz shifts until Taako can recline against him with his garish monstrosity of a drink in hand.
Only after a long, satisfied sip does he say, “Unicorn frappe.”
“You know, you say that like it’s supposed to mean something to me, and it just—it really doesn’t.”
Taako swivels and brandishes it at him, and Kravitz feels like he’s looking into the drink equivalent of several strobe lights. “Magical flavors and fairy powder, duh. Look at how magical this fuckin’ thing looks. Look at it and tell me it’s not magical as shit.”
“It looks like a barista’s LSD-induced nightmare,” says Kravitz, dryly.
“And you say you’re not a poet.” He brings his knees to his chest and tucks his head under Kravitz’s chin, nuzzling into his shoulder with the unicorn frappe sitting precariously in one hand. “Why do I halfta be the space heater in this relationship, huh? I’m gonna get you one of those heating pads and a fuckin’—a circuit board, or something, and I’ll get you all wired up under that sweater, and holy shit, that ended up way more double entendre than I meant it to. Which, hey, that too,” he adds, and Kravitz almost chokes on his mocha—whether it’s with laughter or embarrassment, he’s not entirely sure.
“I dunno if you’ve noticed,” he says over his coffee, “but you tend to specialize in that sort of thing.”
“Oh, c’mon, m’dude.” Taako twists his fingers into the fibers of Kravitz’s sweater and looks up at him with enormous, honeyed eyes. “You can’t just call me out in public like that. You’re gonna get me all riled up.”
This time Kravitz can’t hold back his snort. He sets down his mocha and maneuvers carefully around the unicorn frappe to wrap his arms around Taako’s waist, trapping him where he sits. “See, it just doesn’t work anymore when you’re doing it on purpose.”
“I’ll have you know that my clever word—uh, ministrations are always on pur—ghk!” Taako bites back a shriek and fidgets in Kravitz’s grip, and the pile of whipped cream atop his frappe wavers dangerously. They’re relatively tucked away in a corner of the shop, half-obscured behind a bookshelf and a waxy plant, but his sudden bout of squirming does earn them a suspicious look from one of the cashiers. “Fuck, Krav, your hands are—!”
“Are what?” says Kravitz, as innocently as possible.
“Oh, fuck you,” he manages through a ferocious giggle, “you know I’m sensi—oh my God, remove your fucking icicles from my skin before I pour this thing down your shirt. Don’t test me. I swear to God.”
Laughing, Kravitz does as he’s told, and immediately Taako snatches up his mocha and shoves the frappe at him. “You’re going to hold this,” he says, “as punishment for being a little shit, and I get your mocha because I’ve just been assaulted by a fucking Arctic golem. Ah.” He takes an overly long sip from Kravitz’s cup, which is still venting steam, and sighs. “That hits the spot.”
Kravitz is left to stare dubiously down at the liquified Lisa Frank brand in front of him. It glitters under the copper lights above them, looking for all the world like someone’s idea of a science experiment gone horribly wrong. “So what am I supposed to do with… uh, this?”
“Give it a go, darling.” Taako makes a show of enjoying another sip of Kravitz’s mocha. “You never know whatcha might like.”
“I’d rather die. Please give me back my mocha.”
“You’re such a baby,” he drawls, and then Kravitz sits forward and catches Taako in a light, airy kiss. The sharp, chemical scent of cherry chapstick mingles with the rotund bitterness of his mocha lingering on Taako’s lips, and Kravitz breathes in; savors it, pulls away.
“Nevermind,” he hums, and relaxes back against the glass. “I’m good.”
Taako blinks slowly and fluidly at him—he’s not even trying to hide how flustered he is, which is how Kravitz knows he’s done well. “You—fucking sap,” he says, except it comes out as more of a high-pitched, breathy murmur. “I swear to God.”
Kravitz just tips his head expectantly. “Do I get my coffee back now, or what?”
“I’m gonna get you back so bad for this. You know that, right?” His voice is tart with indignation as he reluctantly hands over Kravitz’s mocha, snags the frappe, and sinks back into their half-embrace. “I’ll get you back when you least expect it. I’ll get you so bad it’ll leave you weak in the knees. Take a fuckin’ sip, babe, and enjoy it while you can. You’re gonna wish you had chosen a unicorn frappe over the wrath of Taako. Just you wait, Krav. Oh, just you wait.”
As Taako rambles, he settles further into Kravitz’s arms, grumbling and complaining all the way. Kravitz can’t stifle his smirk.
“I can honestly say I look forward to it,” he says against Taako’s hair, and from where he’s submerged himself in a mass of sweater, his boyfriend lets out a wholehearted groan.
Pose request 3/8(?) I think some of them might have vanished because I can’t figure out where I got the number 8 from oh god Please no more requests, I just want to finish the ones I already have, thank you! :D
Thank you for sending one in, @themindofcc! Pardon how long it took to get back to these!
