#Like does his starfish body start slowly getting changed into something humanoid??

[puppetmaster13u]

Thinkin about the Meat Marionette Au, specifically the batclan having two bodies. And I apologize if this is rambling lol

I feel like they still train and work out most days (look Bruce has gotten used to picking up his kids, he's not going to stop even if he's in his human body). It's just probably not to the same extent as in canon of a daily thing without giving their bodies a break. That probably actually means their human bodies are healthier than in canon, seeing as one actually needs to let their muscles rest between exercising them. Not to mention they- or at least their bodies- are getting rest. Hell it's almost like their bodies are in comas for a few hours each night what with how low their brain activity would register as.

Now I'm thinking this probably influences how they act and appear towards the public. They shy away from most interviews (they're trying not to hiss or growl) and are mostly quiet whenever they speak in public, so it'd be easier for the tabloids to spin a story about a shy or demure family doing their best to help Gotham. Which is... the complete opposite of what they are, but no one needs to know that.

Others might even go the mysterious hermit route when trying to write a story about the Waynes, seeing as they're not spotted outside often (what with uses of disguises and such) save for the times the patriarch of the family has gone on another adoption spree. Honestly most of the stories about them are either having to do with Wayne industries, the very rare gala that everyone is wanting into, or the several adoptions that have been reported on several times.

Online is another story probably, and there's definitely several memes about each Wayne family member's posts. They're somehow Gotham's darlings despite being social recluses.

That being said, being connected to the Tunnels definitely has an effect on them even in their original human bodies. Not just mentally but physically as well. Like there is some definite off vibes the longer one is in their presence, their movements just a hint too graceful and something almost... predatory about it.

Also slightly random but I feel like Bruce would grow his hair out, like not even purposely at first. He just got caught up in cases and trying to figure out the meat-marionettes (thank you Dick for the name, but did you really have to call them that) that he forgot to get it cut several times. And by then it's just easier to put it in a ponytail than stay still for however long it'd take to get it cut and well, actually look good even if he himself doesn't care about it. Then he also gets kids who want to learn how to do things like braiding hair, which means he learns too and... yeah...

This au is a combo of my cryptid batfam and @phoenixcatch7's possessed doll au, which you need to check out because it's great. A really fun concept and influences a lot of this Au concept too. Also mutual of mine do you have any ideas for their civilian IDs

#meat marionette au #batman au #bruce wayne #batman #dc #dcu #They probably give off fae vibes in their base human bodies lol #Very pretty and fit with barely any blemishes and just this... *off* feeling around them the longer you're around them #They do go out pretty often actually but there's not many photos or proof of it #One of the photos has *all* of them in dresses at a Gala because someone was being an asshole about Steph wearing a suit in a previous one #Also did you know Dick had long hair in several comic issues which I think should be talked about more often #Dunno what to do with Jarro in this au #Like does his starfish body start slowly getting changed into something humanoid?? #Do they build him a human body using what they've learned from the meat marionettes??? #Or is he still a starfish just with a meat marionette body too?

[sleepymccoy]

Not Quite Human

The apocalypse had been, all in all, a bit of a let down. All the angels of Heaven and demons of Hell had found it rather disappointing.

In the years following the demons attempted a mutiny, but they lost interest fairly quickly when they’d realised there was no one around to mutiny against. After all, no one had had any control over the not-war except Crowley, and he’d turned his location off on his phone. And he was a bit frightening now.

The angels hadn’t bothered to complain, they were all far too used to doing as they were told.

One of each of these species had found their mood significantly different than their type in the aftermath. The aforementioned demon Crowley, and one angel Aziraphale. They’d both quit their jobs for each other and returned home, tumbling rather helplessly towards a relief-filled romance. But old habits die hard and with nothing left to keep the pair from expressing their feelings, they created their own barriers to hold themselves back.

And so years passed with pointless desire, self inflicted wallowing, and miserable restraint.

Luckily for both of them, the angel was fed up. He’d been stewing too long and had decided to give it a go.

Sitting may be a polite term for what Crowley was doing to his couch. He’d picked up this rather disturbing artistic effort at interior decorating, a modern exploration into levels, at far too high a price. The couch had no dedicated back (or front, for that matter), but rather was made up of different cubes and blocks of varying shapes and sizes, placed with no apparent awareness of the needs of a body to lounge. Aziraphale hated it. Depending on his mood, Crowley either found it unbearable, or the most comfortable thing in existence.

Today it was very comfortable. He lay splayed like a lost starfish across the surface, staring at his phone, not really thinking about anything.

Aziraphale was reading a simple book that didn’t require much concentration, and his mind was wandering and thinking and scheming. As an angel he had excess eyes, so while his humanoid pair were enjoying a lengthy description of the kind of elderly English person who frequented Betram’s Hotel’s parlour, his more angelic and unknowable eyes were keeping a watch on the demon across the room.

“I have a fear, Crowley,” Aziraphale said into the comfortable silence that had formed, “that we may spend the rest of our lives together with you not asking me for as much as I am willing to give you.”

Crowley dropped his phone and twisted his spine back to tip his head over the back of one of the absurd edges of the couch. His hair fell in his face and, after blowing the long locks out of the way, he asked, “What d’you want, then?” His glasses slipped up to his forehead, so Crowley scrabbled at them to keep them at least vaguely in place.

Aziraphale turned his human eyes to Crowley. “You misunderstand, and I am not sure if you do so unintentionally or not, dear,” he said, unimpressed.

Crowley lay there, staring upside down at Aziraphale. He didn’t respond.

Aziraphale sighed and put his book to the side. He pursed his lips, spending another moment deciding if this was the right sort of track to take. He wasn’t sure, but he also simply couldn’t keep going forwards in the pointless, meandering, tense manner. “I have a feeling that you want more of me than you have requested. I would like you to ask me for what you want.”

Crowley rolled over, his body briefly giving him a few extra vertebrae to complete the movement. The poor demon was panicked, he had been living in a state of near terror for the last month as Aziraphale had begun pushing the non-communicated boundaries of their unspoken New Arrangement (the main difference to the Old Arrangement seemed to be that if Crowley didn’t come by the shop for a day, Aziraphale would call him and inquire as to why) into more and more intimate territory. He’d taken Crowley’s arm last week as they’d walked through what was left of St James’ Park and Crowley was still sorting through whether that had been meant as an overture to something more , or if he was just assisting a friend.

Crowley had enjoyed it, of course, he was in love after all. But he didn’t really want it. Well, he did, he wanted it a whole lot, but not to the point of being willing to risk what he had now. Things were good for the demon, he saw his angel every day, he spoke freely (mostly) and laughed more. Aziraphale came to him first often enough to make him feel special and wanted. So what if he’d cried at a sunset the other day, that was the sort of thing one simply does sometimes.

He spoke slowly, somewhat resenting the request for an honest response. He could blow most things off with a joke, but this allowed for no casual falseness. “What if it's more than you want to give? I'm happy with this much,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale smiled tightly, still unimpressed. “I have more to give than I have given thus far, Crowley. And besides, the worst I can say is no. On the back of that, is there anything you'd like to get up to tonight?”

“Nah.”

Aziraphale swallowed his disappointment bitterly. “Very well.” He opened his book up again, returning unerringly to the precise word he’d left off at. “Let me know if anything occurs to you.”

The book shop had gotten bigger since the apocalypse, but the empty space within had shrunk. Aziraphale, after a few years of Crowley insisting he could, had relaxed and begun expanding his collection into more outrageous areas. There was an entire shelf of dedicated pornography that Crowley had teased the angel over for about thirteen seconds before Aziraphale had met his gaze unflinchingly and invited him to read a few of the novels. Crowley had not yet picked one up.

There was a collection of paleontological books, all very seriously written, which Aziraphale found simply hilarious. Companion books for musicals sat on a bottom shelf, poking out in such a way as to trip unsuspecting customers, although these musicals ran more to the tune of Rent and Hair than they did The Sound of Music . There were even instruments (some recognisable to modern eyes, some forgotten to all but time and the two present) leaning against a few walls that Aziraphale had taken to practicing despite not being very good at it yet. All in all the shop reflected a more honest picture of the angel that ran it.

Crowley didn’t pick his phone back up, instead he lay on the now very uncomfortable couch on his stomach, staring at the edge of the coffee table seriously as he considered what he could ask Aziraphale for that the angel might give him. He wanted Crowley to push a boundary, clearly. They had moved rather slowly since the apocalypse, barely changing a thing as their very well built fears trickled away. Crowley’s had been replaced by a consuming fear of rejection (which hadn’t been far off consuming before the apocalypse, but had certainly grown since), and to his eyes Aziraphale had simply stopped living in fear. He was wrong, of course, Aziraphale was afraid of his own cowardice, which was its own kind of spiralling disaster, but Crowley didn’t know any of that.

Crowley wanted to ask Aziraphale to shift their dynamic into what humans would label as a romance. Being immortal beings crafted by God, the dynamic of such a romance would hardly be human in nature, but the agreement could start there. Of course, Crowley had no idea if Aziraphale wanted anything in that vein. The pornography books flitted through his mind as a possible answer to that, but he decided they weren’t complete enough an explanation to rely on.

The worst he could do is say no, Crowley mused. That was true. And Crowley was unlikely to ask for something that would be so totally and utterly reprehensible that Aziraphale would depart. He may just refuse, shower Crowley in a moment of disdain, and go back to quietly reading a book and thinking about desserts.

Unfortunately for Aziraphale, Crowley rather liked hope, even of the false variety, and didn’t want it dashed. So Aziraphale’s wishes weren’t met exactly, but they weren’t totally let down. Crowley refused to ask for much, but he did, at long last, ask for something just slightly left of their centre.

“Can I come sit with you?” Crowley asked.

Read the rest on ao3

Things to expect in this fic, altho do read the tags on ao3 if youre not sure: mututal pining. somewhat omnipotent pov (not god). first kiss and talking of that nature. some sexy times, but not a full fuck, still enough to rate exlicit imo. nose diving right into their approximation of a human relationship. asexual aziraphale, demisexual crowley 

#good omens #good omens fic #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands