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#and that shall be my tag
toyducks · 1 month
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made my own prefall/angel lucifer design
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softest-punk · 8 months
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Hiya, could you pretty pretty please do a 12. and 33. prompt for the ineffable husbands? I keep thinking of Bentley just locking them in and not letting them out until they talk cupboard trope style 😔
Yessssss :D
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"Now you listen to me Crowley, you are going to tell your car—"
"Our car."
Aziraphale stops. Blinks. Gives up on fighting with the door handle.
"What did you say?" he asks.
"It's our car," Crowley repeats, more of a mumble this time, looking away from Aziraphale. A raindrop runs down the window, and he follows it with his eyes until it pools at the bottom, joining the great conference of former raindrops gathering there. They're in for a night of it, by the looks of the sky. "You said that. You made that true. So you're as much at fault as I am for it locking us in."
"I don't see how this is my fault. You kidnapped—"
"Kidnapped? I rescued you. That's. That's what I do. That's what the almighty made me for, I think," he huffs, still not looking at Aziraphale.
One rescue does not a rift mend. He's owed an apology. And even though everything's gone to heaven, like he predicted, he still hasn't gotten one.
He'd take a lot less. He doesn't need to hear that he was right. He needs to hear that Aziraphale's sticking with him this time.
The Bentley is, at least temporarily, seeing to that. Crowley gives the steering wheel a gentle pat. He genuinely has nothing to do with the doors being locked and apparently immune to miracles or temptation, but he thinks it's trying to help.
If nothing else, the constant itch of not being able to reach out and touch Aziraphale, if he wanted, has vanished for a bit. The ache of missing him has eased back just a fraction. It's a good car. A good, loyal car.
"You're cold," he says, shrugging out of his jacket without even having to look at Aziraphale. It's cold out tonight, in the middle of bloody nowhere, and he gets cold easily. Crowley doesn't want him to be cold.
"You'll be cold," Aziraphale says as Crowley shoves his body-warmed jacket at him.
"Demon," he says. "Don't get cold."
Theoretically, an angel ought not to get cold either. Thing is. Aziraphale's never actually been a very good angel. Not that Crowley would ever tell him that to his face.
Besides, he's his angel. He's allowed to be not very good.
"Thank you," Aziraphale says, taking the jacket and spreading it over himself like a blanket.
Silence, except for the pit-pat of rain against the car, falls. And Aziraphale's breathing. Crowley's missed the way he breathes.
He literally twiddles his thumbs in his lap, trying to think of something to say or do.
"Things are a bit of a mess," Aziraphale says after what might have been several eternities. Crowley's lost count.
He opens his mouth to say something—something comforting, like that it's not all that bad, or that they'll figure it out, they're a team, they always figure it out.
And then Aziraphale continues, "and you tried to warn me."
His voice sounds so small that Crowley, naturally, like he always does, deflates like a sat-on whoopee cushion. Because the thing about Aziraphale is that he always really is trying to do the right thing. Because he still believes there's one true Right Thing to do. Because he's precious and wonderful and optimistic and good. Not a good angel. But a good person.
"Did you ever wonder why I might try to do that?" Crowley asks.
He's not sure he wants an answer. Either one's going to hurt.
Aziraphale falls silent again, which is probably for the best. The way the moonlight's hitting the window now, Crowley can see him reflected in it. Still the same Aziraphale. Heaven hasn't really changed him.
"Do you really think God created you to look out for me?"
Crowley sighs. "I don't know. Plan's, y'know, ineffable."
"Well it would explain why you keep doing it," Aziraphale says. "If it's all in the plan."
"Right," Crowley draws in on himself. Not getting through right now, then. "No other possible explanation for it, really."
"Well. There is one other possible explanation," Aziraphale offers hesitantly.
"Oh?" Crowley asks.
"Well... you might. I suppose. Be fond of me?"
Crowley glances over at him. Sighs. Okay, well. He's come to that conclusion, then. It's only taken a little over six thousand years. Practically no time at all.
He takes his sunglasses off. Stares out of the windscreen. Wonders if he can actually be discorporated by way of stomach knots. Gnaws on his lip.
And then gets very, very brave. "I might be," Crowley says, forcing himself to look Aziraphale in the eye. "I might even be in love with you."
Aziraphale swallows. He looks like he might either be sick or pass out from what Crowley realises at the last second isn't disgust.
It's nerves.
"You might," he says, looking away as he fiddles with Crowley's jacket. "And. And if you were. That would be very convenient for me. Because I... I think I've been in love with you for a very long time."
Crowley means to say something to that, but the nice satisfying thunk of the Bentley unlocking beats him to it.
"Well," Crowley says, running his tongue over his teeth. "That's probably enough to save the world, then. Shall we?"
Aziraphale lights up, bright and beautiful and good as always. "I think we really must."
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andminnequin · 23 days
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Demon shep
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nutbreadys · 8 months
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It felt like I was losing something. A part of my own body.
That “something” must have been Satan.
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b&w ver.!
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wazzappp · 8 months
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@fandomunsexyman THANK YOU FOR YOUR GLORIOUS IDEAS THEY HAVE INSPIRED ME TO DRAW SPIDERMAN STUFF AGAIN
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obeymess · 3 months
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I'm convinced that Asmo spends a LOT of time in class flirting with MC from across the room
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abugcalledtoken · 15 days
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All is quiet
All is well
From our haven
Deep in hell
You know what they say, if your friends don’t believe that the weird toy amalgam who saved your life that one time is the one true savior and solution to all your problems, kill em all and adopt their mini versions!
This got BEAMED into my mind and I had to draw it super duper quick! A peaceful moment between Theo and his followers to end the day :D
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lyrichi · 5 days
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[the bros are all fighting in the background]
mc, watching and eating one of those vero mango lollipops:
solomon, sitting next to them: what did you do to make them all fight like that?
mc: I said I had a favorite
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sculkshrieking · 7 months
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A short introduction comic to a Last Life AU i've been rotating in my mind where Scar is a ghost only Grian can see :)
Part 2
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hyakunana · 6 months
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When you need to lie, but you're a good boy.
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bloomin-szn · 1 year
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obeyme but instead of mc being a responsable adult lucifer just accidentally picks a random 14 year old 💀
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doodle-ink · 2 months
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The Sun,
The Star,
The Moon,
and Mars…
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The beginning of those to come.
AAAAAAAAAA ITS DOOOONNNNEEEE IM SO PROUD OF THIS THING YALL HAVE NO IDEA!!
I’VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS THING FOR OVER 5
F U C K I N G
M O N T H S.
SO MANY VIDEO ESSAYS…
For those who don’t know what tf this is, it’s a custom gem art I ordered online (with artists permission) like the ones u can get at (insert art store name).
This is also 3ft (97cm) long. For reference on how fucking big this thing is there’s is a picture of me holing it up and last I checked I’m roughy 5’4” (pic at bottom so this post ain’t so fucking long)
But yeah I’m absolutely in love with this and still need to slap some mod podge over this behemoth. My next project is a little more reasonable and I’ve already got permission from a new artist to use her work!
(Also little ittle watchers (read in The Click voice))
This original art was done by @skimmeh (LOOK ITS DONE :D)
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softest-punk · 2 months
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The thing where sea otters hold paws when they sleep to avoid drifting away from one another?
But Dreamling.
(Combined with the thing with Morpheus and the thing where he appears differently to people/Dream of a Thousand Cats Morphues but sea otter version or Hob is just. Like. Having a weird dream and Morpheus is like *eyebrow raise* but it's not the strangest thing he's seen in his time as an Endless and also holding sea otter!Hob's paw is not unappealing and idk, I cannot get the mental image ut of my head, so.)
In the Waking, Dream of the Endless is sitting on Hob Gadling's sofa, his friend having fallen asleep against his shoulder. This is not at all unpleasant, and he has no desire to move. Sleep is a vulnerable state, and humans choose only to do it in isolation, or in the company of people they trust. It is an honour to be napped on. He would still be marvelling over it, revelling in it, if not for the tug of Hob's dream, calling on his true image.
He finds Hob floating on his back in a small, dark pond in an unkempt field, under a sky glittering with stars.
"Am I asleep?" Hob asks, tilting his head to look at Dream. He is in no danger of drowning, and obviously feels no anxiety.
"Yes," Dream says. He is unsure whether Hob is actually lucid, or merely giving the impression of lucidity. Perhaps it doesn't matter.
"Did you leave me on the sofa?" Hob asks.
"I have not left you," Dream says. "I am still sitting beside your sleeping body."
Hob stares at him for a moment, and then laughs. "You're so weird. I love you."
A barely-perceptible tremble rolls through the entire Dreaming. Hob is, evidently, not fully aware of himself. He would not dare to say this if he were. Dream would not find it so easy to accept, if he were.
"I was thinking about otters," Hob continues, as though he has said nothing strange or startling.
They had been watching a wildlife documentary, when Hob had fallen asleep. Hob's week has been long and trying, his sleep disturbed, and so his unconsciousness is perhaps not a comment on the interest of the program.
"And how you're sort've always holding my hand when I sleep. I mean I know it's not just me, you're here holding everyone's hand. But I like to think maybe you notice when I'm asleep. I like to think maybe you hold my hand a little more. Wishful thinking, I guess."
Dream does, in fact, notice when Hob is asleep.
"I don't want you to float away from me," Hob adds. "Don't know how to tell you. Not sure you'd like it if I did."
Belatedly, Dream realises he ought not to be here. This is the dream of a friend. It is the dream of a friend about him. Processing his feelings.
All the same, it is difficult to decide to leave.
Instead, he wades into the pond. Hob watches with widening eyes, the stars above reflected in them. He is beautiful in his dreams. This is perhaps an unfair assessment—he is beautiful in wakefulness, as well. It has taken Dream some time to see it, to understand it, but it is true.
A broad, welcoming, surprised and delighted smile spreads over Hob's face. He holds his hand out, not merely unafraid, but eager. Dream takes it, threading their fingers together tightly, and moves to float beside him and look up at the stars.
When Hob wakes, his hand is curled around Dream's.
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sherwind · 3 months
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some of my story characters together ♡
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forlornalbatross · 9 months
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A quick aperture / mini breaks or longer gaps / a pause that holds onto the hands of the intervals / the suspension is a hole / & the intermission has its own fissure / this is the symbolism of a lull lacuna / a breach of recess / a rest without interruption / a work in progress or duty calls out of the scope of the earthly matters that is out of one's control / here's to the surcease cavity / just because one's gone it doesn't mean one's not here / just because one's not here it doesn't mean one's gone / to see this is to be notified / the currency of a status / away -
D C de Oliveira || Offline || June 15 2023 || Thursday 8.30am (Draft Collections)
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marielatiasi · 4 months
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at least it's only 3 grand this time..
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