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#he doesnt look too good....
hauntingblue · 5 months
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Fucking crocodile!!!!! YEAAAAHHHH!!!!
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blondie-drawings · 8 months
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(Worf voice) SLAY
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newttxt · 8 months
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i was talking extensively with a friend about reiju’s delicate balance of caring/emotionless and her relationship with sanji
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lbhslefttiddie · 1 month
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youve heard of sex flowers get ready for the flower that makes you into a celestial shoujo herione complete with particle effects you cannot turn the fuck off and creates a wifebeam so powerful it can incapacitate and maim and keeps making you burst into tears and fall on your ass which makes the wifebeam More Powerful and you also cannot turn this off either. and is also still, sort of, a sex flower
from one of my favorite fanfictions, Celestial Afterglow by elanor_pam, a fic that defies description in the best possible way
#arts#shen qingqiu#svsss#listen im not saying that ive spent a cumulative half a year reading this fic and then trying to make an arts for it#and then getting frustrated and stopping because i couldn't figure out how to make sqq shimmery enough#but like. im not NOT saying that#this is the FOURTH time ive started something for this bitch it haunts my fucking dreams and yet the opalescent glittery sqq evades me#perhaps you o unlearned fool look at this and say hmm that's too many colour layers and glowy effects but oh how wrong you are#if it doesnt make you literally fall over yourself at how otherworldly and radiant he is then there is room for improvement yet#perhaps you look at this and you think Wow!!! this gives me literally NO ideas what this fic is about#well Let Me Tell You. i have no fucking idea how to summarize this fic#its not often the tags in a fic give me pause but i saw this and as i read the tags i was increasingly just like What#but i have no idea how to describe it. the tags arent NOT accurate but i was SO unprepared for what happened in like an extremely pos way#if i were tagging this i think i would give it the no archive warnings apply label if that matters to you#the author seemed they wanted to leaned towards over caution rather than risk missing anything re tags because This Is A Weird Fic#but oh my fucking god#i am gripping you by the shoulders i cannot stress enough how charming it is#brilliant characterization especially with airplane in the first scene#and also so much fucking funnier than i thought possible for the general setting summary tags and buildup#its just. ough. its good
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starry-bi-sky · 2 months
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Stuck in the middle of a forest made of
Flesh and bones and they're all scared of
A lost little boy who has lost his heart
Fear's not enough, they have to
Tear him apart —-------
There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well: 
He’s adopted.
He can’t remember anything else before that.  
‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents. 
What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill. 
When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.
(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.) 
The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.
It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one. 
The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself. 
His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.
(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.) 
(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.) 
They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.  
(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)
Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe. 
He turned back around and went inside.
—-------
Where do we go
When the river's running slow
Where do we run
When the cats kill one by one
—------
One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.  
He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal. 
It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking. 
He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter. 
Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind. 
(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)
After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous. 
He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.
—------
Hazel beneath our claws
While we wait for cerulean to cry
Unsettled ticks run through time
Enough for the hunt to go awry
—-----
There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own. 
He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t. 
Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward. 
(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”) 
(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)  
He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell. 
A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his. 
He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it. 
His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.
Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.   
—-------
Harpy hare
Where have you buried all your children?
Tell me so I say
—-------
When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now. 
Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.
He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.
Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own. 
(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)
(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)
(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)  
—--------------
It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders
And they will never
Hear me here listen to croons and a calling
I'll tell them all the
Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow
Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare
—-------
More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother. 
Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten. 
His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands. 
They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely. 
It is a fast dream. 
His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.
His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods. 
The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him. 
The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal. 
His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train. 
(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.) 
—---  
She can't keep them all safe
They will die and be afraid
Mother, tell me so I say
(Mother, tell me so I say)
—-------
When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again. 
The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person. 
(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.) 
(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)   
Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird. 
(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)
—------
Seeker, do you ever come to wonder
If what you're looking for is within where you hold
Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path
You'll soon forget
Home
—---------
When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is. 
When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.
‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off. 
He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.
He ends up calling himself Phantom. 
(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.) 
----------
Home is where we are
Home is where you are
Home is where I am
-----------------
Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.
#dpxdc#dp x dc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#danyal al ghul au#amnesiac danyal al ghul au#songs in order of the album: the hartebeest / harpy hare / and the hound / neath the grove is a heart#musician danny has my heart and soul#yes this danyal IS an alternative danny from the other au. an au where things were a little better :) but still sucks#implied good mom talia al ghul#danyal is a momma's boy send tweet#dpxdc ficlet#dpxdc prompts#dp x dc au#dp x dc fanfic#danyal is sTILL five years older than damian in this au#no beta no edits we die like danny fenton#poc danny fentons#i didnt know where to end this :(( i was gonna go on but i blanked. i thought about going into his relationships with his rogues and so on.#but that felt too much like trying to just increase the word count rather than actually writing?? if that makes sense#ugh im gonna have forgotten to include things and im gonna be kicking myself later#morally ambiguous danny whoo! we love to see it#since this was just for fun it doesnt really go into it all that much other than like. it happens. and that danny realizes he's dangerous#phantom in a hazmat suit? nah phantom looking like an assassin >:].#danyal al ghul with damian and his mom: 🥰🌸✨#danyal al ghul with everyone else: 👹🔪#am i heavily implying that clockwork had smth to do with Danyal’s amnesia and appearance by the cabin? 👀 maybe#not enough danyal al ghul aus where him being an assassin actually. has some kind of affect on him
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wannaeatramyeon · 6 months
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Jake Kim x Reader: Jealous
G/N. Silly + fluffy. Spawned from chatting with @steamedeggs, as always.
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"Who's that?"
Jake follows your eye line.
"Samuel Seo," He tells you with a sigh. Whether that's a result of their meeting on the Pier or something else you can't be sure.
"The famous Samuel Seo," you mutter.
You watch him gracefully fold his limbs into a fancy executive car and lament the shitbox Sinu has left Jake, "Oh damn, he's hot and loaded?"
Jake huffs a small exasperated laugh, curling his arm around your shoulders. "Some would consider him hot and loaded, yes."
You throw your boyfriend a cheeky grin, raking over his form with greedy eyes.
"Obviously not as hot as you, though."
"Obviously."
.
.
Listen, Jake does not lack confidence. Jake is secure. With his appearance, his personality, his finances- no wait, scratch the last one.
Bottom line: Jake is perfectly fine with himself.
Lua has called him egotistical and conceited at times, but that's besides the point. Vivi has commented that he's ugly to his face and he couldn't care less. (All the girls throwing themselves at him in the club certainly showed otherwise.)
Sometimes even you think it is grossly unfair. Jake has won the lottery in the looks and personality department. He is beyond charming, winning hearts wherever he goes. Not even his battle scars dull his shine, adding only a sexy and bad boy air to this giant golden retriever of a man.
Anyway, the point is-
It's hard to phase Jake. It's nigh on impossible for his jealousy to flare up.
Yet.
.
.
"What was that on his neck?"
"Whose?"
"Samuel Seo's."
"You mean his tattoos?"
"Huh, neck tattoos? That's bold."
Jake watches you type in neck tattoos, and if he isn't mistaken, you look impressed.
'What's impressive about neck tattoos?' He wonders, leaning over to look at the designs on your phone.
"You want me to get a neck tattoo?" He angles his head to show off his throat and your phone no longer holds your attention. You're desperate to sink your teeth in. Add your own markings.
"Or what about a face tattoo?" Jake grins, "Tear drop under one eye? Writing on the other cheek? Some big letters? Big Deal?"
Picturing his suggestion, you wrinkle your nose. "Definitely not-"
"'Cos I guess these aren't enough for you, huh?"Jake raises an eyebrow, one corner of his lips pulled up and flexing his biceps.
It's obnoxious but goddamn this man. Enough of his charm shines through that it's sexy, a touch silly, and a lot endearing.
.
.
"Does your friend actually need glasses?"
Jake mentally flips through the list of people he knows. Friend? With glasses? "Samuel?"
You nod.
"Probably. Not sure. He never wore them in Big Deal."
"So they're just for show? He's a poser?"
Jake chuckles at your words and shrugs.
"Hmm," you tap your chin, "It does make him look smart-"
"Samuel is smart."
"-and sophisticated. You want a pair?"
"C’mon," Jake looks at you with mock hurt and clutching his heart, "I already am smart and sophisticated."
"Sure you are."
"And I look it!"
"Absolutely."
"Hey!"
.
.
“You’re pretty tall, right?”
Jake blinks, because what a question. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes, except maybe professional basketball players.
“...Yes.”
“And Samuel is the same height as you?”
“I think so?”
“Huh.”
“What do you mean huh?”
“Nothing. Just… huh.” You begin to walk away but Jake grabs onto your arm and yanks you back. You fall into his chest with an ‘oof’.
“I’m not tall enough for you?”
“7ft might be nice. Maybe 8ft. Why not double digits. 10ft!”
“Yeah,” he laughs and rolls his eyes, “I’ll get right on that.”
.
.
Jake is sulky and pouty.
He knows you’re teasing. Messing around, playing. Hell, he teases you enough. 
Despite this. He is sulky and he is pouty.
"Jake..." you plop yourself into his lap, "You know I'm only joking right?"
He gives you a sidelong glance even as he angles his cheek for a kiss.
"I think you're the best," You give him a smooch. "Your tattoos are hot," Another smooch. "You're very smart."
"And sophisticated," he grumbles, though he makes no attempt to hide the smile creeping over his face.
"The most sophisticated!" You kiss him loudly on the lips this time. "You should teach people how to be as sophisticated as you are. Charge them a billion won each to listen to you talk about sophistication. And you’re the tallest. A giant. The biggest man to have ever existed. I don’t know how you fit that massive head through doors,” You squeeze his shoulders, “How do you even get this huge body in a building.”
Jake bursts into laughter at your ridiculousness. 
“I even love your awful death-trap that you call a car. With no air conditioning and no airbags and seatbelts that jam when they shouldn’t."
Jake clicks his tongue at you, "Now I know you're lying. Even I hate that stupid car. And it’s not mine."
“Ok,” you give in, “I do hate it.”
Jake’s face turns soft and tender. He pulls you close, until your foreheads are touching and you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. “I think you’re the best and hot and smart and sophisticated. You’re not that tall and you don’t have a car... But you are mine though.”
“Yeah,” you agree, melting into his arms, feeling his heart beating in time with your own. “I am yours.”
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gunsatthaphan · 7 months
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#full circle.
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daily-hanamura · 10 months
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unexpectedbrickattack · 7 months
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Pizzano being deviously devious on 11? Make. That man. BIG. >:]
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Devious Round Man
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storge · 2 days
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What else do you know? I also know you have a weak point. You're softhearted.
Provoke (2023) 1.03
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topaziraphale · 8 months
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"Stop saying Crowley won't help Aziraphale in S3 he'd go back to him in a HEARTBEAT and nothing would stop him" I get it no one likes the idea of Crowley being bitter after what happened for a long period of time but like can we at least acknowledge that he's currently going through probably the most emotional pain in his life since falling? Can we agree that he's opened his heart entirely - something you couldn't pay him to do unless the world is literally ending and he's desperate - to Aziraphale, and got shot down? Can we understand that he did it AGAIN only to lose Aziraphale again? Not that what Aziraphale did isn't without Crowley's own shortcomings (hiding the truth of Heaven's cruelty from him) but like,,,,
The appeal here isn't Scorned Crowley Doesn't Love Aziraphale Anymore, or Never Wants To Help Him Again, the appeal here is Crowley learning enough self respect to not just walk back right to Aziraphale like nothing happened after Aziraphale has had a pattern of consistently refusing him. Going years ping-ponging between "We're not friends I don't even know him" to "That's what friends are for right?" and "We're friends, why would you even say anything?" and "Friends? We're not friends. We are an angel and a demon!"
Like I get it, Crowley is a heartbreakingly forgiving person. Of course he's gonna forgive Aziraphale, I'll be surprised if he didn't forgive him by the time he walked out the bookshop door, but gdi he could at least grant himself the luxury of being at least a little irritated for longer than however long it takes to make a globe and some books float and angrily cry out to God in his flat. But due to the change of pace and dynamic that is establishing part of the conflict for Season 3, I just really like the idea of him for ONCE prioritizing himself and being like "Okay, fine. We'll get back at it when you're ready, then," instead of just taking Aziraphale back like his words and actions meant nothing to him, when clearly they have an effect on him.
What is Aziraphale going to learn if Crowley just accepts what he did so quickly, like he always has the entire time they've been friends? Idk maybe I'm just projecting too much darkness on their dynamic but I mean, if the pattern of Aziraphale pushing Crowley away/disrespecting him one day and then being fine with his friendship the next + Crowley never stopping to be like "Hey, that's not cool, at least give me a little credit" or smth was fine all along and will continue to be fine in the future, then why, after 6,000 years of being friends and loving this demon, can Aziraphale still not accept that Crowley is just fine the way he is, and instead got excited to promote him to an angel in a heartbeat once the opportunity presented itself? You can't blame all of it on Heaven when Aziraphale has demonstrated his free will/defiance to Heaven so many times. Or, I don't know, I guess maybe we can? Maybe I'm just craving too much angst to the point where I'm letting it cloud my analysis of canon. Idk.
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gyffindraws · 2 months
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i've been working on this idea since valentine's day and decided to skech out a cover (even though i literally only have a few out of context pages sketched lol)
over explained au idea under the cut
it's an au in which crowley is a human running his own plant store and aziraphale is a cherub that was kept in heaven after the eden/sword mishap. He runs the human archives in heaven and has been obsessed with humans ever since he met adam and eve. he's been schemeing for millenia to get a chance to go to earth (having only watched earth from the scrolls in the archives).
serendipitously, aziraphale finds an old file called the Cupid Project, a defunct project wherein angels would foster love amongst humans by helping them make connections (via celestial arrows to the heart, yeah. there was a reason it was cancelled). Seeing his chance, he pitches a reboot of the project to help more humans find love (and get his ass to earth). Annoyed, the archangels finally agree, if only to get him to stop pestering them. Under their terms, the archangels set a test for aziraphale to prove the project's worth. They pick a human for aziraphale to successfully find love for and give him one year to make it happen.
Anthony Crowley is a man that doesn't like to be bothered. He has a few 'friends' that check in on him from time to time, but really, he prefers to be alone with his plants. Really, he does. He's grumpy and prickly and pushes away anyone that gets too close. Which is what makes him the perfect candiate for aziraphale's test. Snickering to themselves, the archangels pick a man that couldn't possibly open himself to love. And when the year is up, aziraphale will be back in the archives, where he's promised not to bother them ever again.
tldr: human!crowley, angel!aziraphale, flower store, aziraphale as cupid. slow burn and strangers to friends to lovers. sappy romance, pining
some bonuses: the flowers crowley is holding are gardenias, which represent secret love. The flower's in the corner are cupid's dart, because of obvious reasons
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birdricks · 5 months
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sleepyhead lol….
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hiroshotreplica · 4 months
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new year, new agent refs. for now: alister :]
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chasingthe2000s · 1 year
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Narcissistic boy fangirls over himself
This version of Jeff belongs to @ghoulieq !
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mishy-mashy · 1 month
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I said this in a whole reblog, but just copy-pasting to a separate post because I think it'll give some reading comprehension and reblogs don't show up in the search feature.. again, I'm reiterating what I said in another post.
Go check out @demidokuriya 's post for this; OP's post made me put this all down in like. 20 minutes. Mind went vroom vroom cuz HEY THEY'RE ONTO SOMETHING.
(They also reblogged the post with some hint to some behind the scenes of what led to the ideas if you wanna check that out)
Look below at how, when Mineta told AFO to spare Tokoyami, AFO specifically went "..."
He remembers Jirou and thinks, The braying howls of the weak...
He was going to take Tokoyami's Quirk. He took Hawks'. But after Mineta pleaded with him, AFO just straight-up left and didn't take anyone else's Quirk.
AFO saw Yoichi in Mineta.
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These scenes are near-identical to each other.
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Mineta and Yoichi (at that time) are both much smaller than the normal person at their age
They're both hurt, yet dragged themselves up from the ground to throw something at AFO, to get his attention and make their voice
Both are considered weak, even if they have a Quirk (Mineta's Pop-Off and Yoichi's undeveloped Factor)
The fact that Yoichi got AFO's attention here by throwing a can at him, while Mineta got his attention by throwing a Pop-Off ball; and it stuck.
Mineta's call for his attention landed and actually stuck to AFO. This is unlike when Yoichi and his can bounced off, and AFO kicked him, not listening to him; AFO listened to Mineta and left Tokoyami alone, technically doing what Mineta wanted—to not hurt this person.
AFO just went on to hurt more people away from Mineta's [Yoichi's] eyes so the small weakling wouldn't see.
Yoichi and Mineta both cried to AFO to not hurt in his ways, when AFO was intent on stealing people's Quirks
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AFO even stole Hawks' Quirk during this time.
He had time to steal Hawks' Quirk, and though he could've tossed him to the side, he let Hawks stand in his way.
He had the energy. Right after this event, he flew off and left the scene. But he didn't go for Tokoyami immediately.
And this let Mineta play his part, and remind AFO of Yoichi.
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"A putrid, festering Quirk Factor."
That sounds like Yoichi, AFO.
".. such garbage."
Hey hey hey, what did Yoichi throw at him when they were kids?
A discarded can. Garbage.
This chapter (385) where AFO listens to Mineta is literally called [A Youthful Urge].
Mineta told AFO to take his Pop-Off (hurt him) instead. But last time, AFO hurt Yoichi by kicking him; this time, AFO not only listened to Mineta to not hurt Tokoyami, but didn't touch Mineta at all.
Even though this time, Mineta [Yoichi] offered to take that place of suffering.
Yoichi didn't do that back then. AFO just turned on little Yoichi anyway.
Yoichi through his whole existence is literally [the braying howls of the weak]. AFO acknowledges he's weak and idealistic, yet he still loves him.
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Side note about this panel, I think it's interesting that in this vision, this was the first time we saw Yoichi's eyes: when he was being defiant, despite being pushed down by someone much stronger than him.
Really characteristic of him, honestly. Yoichi's soft-spoken and frail, but it's always reiterated that Yoichi had a powerful will against his stronger big brother.
Mineta at this moment reminded him too much of Yoichi, because the two scenes are near-identical to each other. Parallels, really.
Reiterating something from OP's post that I reblogged this from;
"The reminder of his brother made him uncomfortable, so he hurried away."
AFO didn't want to hurt Yoichi again.
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