#made some minor edits

[digenerate-trash]

Yandere Sirris who encourages Sydney to befriend you, so you'll come over to their house and he can POUNCE without fear of anyone at school catching you and ruining his "good man" facade.

Fuuuuuuck. Damn okay, anon. You're a sick fuck. I'm into it. (I might have to do the teachers next because of this ask)

GN Sydney | GN PC | AMAB Sirris

Sirris has always been very particular about his tastes. Usually, he has boundaries and careful consideration when he is looking for someone to get romanticly involved with. He's always so careful with his feelings... he has a kid after all and he can't risk Sydney's stable home for anything less than perfection...

But that's when he met you. You're a bit off. You stand out in class. Not a troublemaker. But not a good student either. But there's something in the way you look at him that makes his heart jump. He spends all lunch period thinking about it. He wonders what he did to be cursed with these feelings...

He's upset and sick at the thought and when he goes to check on Sydney he spots you again. Leaning over the counter and talking to his son. Your hips swaying a bit as you chat with him. Sirris can't seem to tear his eyes away from you. When Sydney sees Sirris he waves and invites him over.

You quickly gather your book and head out and still Sirris can't focus.

"Dad!" Sydney says. Snapping his fingers and gaining his attention finally. "What are you doing here?" Sydney asks. He must have asked a few times but Sirris wasn't listening.

"Sorry kiddo- I just... I'm worried about them." He gestures Vaugely in the direction you left and Sydney nods.

"They've been having some trouble lately," Sydney explains. "Something with their caretaker. They refused to explain. They keep their personal life a secret... I'm getting worried about them-"

...an unstable home life is troubling... especially for someone as desirable as you, but you could keep a secret apparently, and you could probably use a safe place to go... Sirris is more than happy to provide for someone in need.

"Invite them for dinner Friday." Sirris encourages. "Maybe we can get to know your friend a little better."

Sydney smiles before the bell rings and he grabs the rest of the books that need to be reshelved. "I think they'd like that- who doesn't like us?" Sydney smiles a bit before Sirris heads back to his classroom. And as much as he wants to pretend that Friday is going to be nothing but innocent fun. He's already planning on a way to get rid of Sydney for the evening.

Friday rolls around and all throughout class you keep looking at the teacher. You seem nervous and Sirris tries to ignore it. He continues the lesson as if nothing is wrong and by the end of it you've packed up your bag but you wait for the class to leave. It's just you and him in the classroom now but Sirris keeps things professional. The door is open and he keeps the desk between the two of you as you confront him.

"Sydney invited me to dinner." You say. Your voice has a slight shake to it. But Siris doesn't seem to mind. Innocence is a virtue according to the church books his son brings home.

"And? Will you be joining us for dinner?" Sirris asks. He stays calm like his entire day won't be soured if you say no.

"...it won't be awkward?" You ask. "Since you're my teacher... I thought it might be awkward- you might not... want me there..."

Sirris chuckles a bit and he reaches over to pat your head but stops himself. Keeping the distance he's so carefully maintained. "It won't be awkward I promise." He reassures you before he pulls out some of the tests he intends on marking.

You nod and smile before you grab your things and leave. Sirris closes the door after you leave the classroom and takes a deep breath of air as he presses his forehead against it. He can't believe it... you're actually going to be in his home tonight... you're going to show up you're going to laugh politely at his jokes and be in his home. It's almost too much-

The rest of the day feels like a weird dream. He doesn't even seem to care when he spends the next hour not marking papers but instead thinking about all the things he could do to you in his own home. His work is left undone for the day and even his visit to Sydney in the library is a blur.

After school, Sydney brings you along with him, and Sirris drives. Usually, he'd let Sydney walk but today was a special occasion. You two chat and smile in the back seat. While Siris grips the wheel his knuckles are white while he hears you laughing in the back seat.

You're so close to him...

Sirris lets you two talk in the living room while he makes dinner and as he expected you are polite and helpful. You complement the house and keep your hands to yourself. Sydney even mentions that you're welcome here any time and Siris echos that as you sit down a the table to eat. And once dinner is almost done sirris gets up a moment and clears the table...

He sets the dishes on the counter and stares. Five minutes. That's what he’ll wait. He counts the seconds. He stays stark still in the kitchen as the seconds pass. Five minutes is believable he thinks as the moments tick by. He can still hear you chatting in the dining room. You are so close… so agonizingly close. Once the five minutes are up he takes a deep purposeful breath and calms his nerves before poking his head back out into the dining room.

"Sydney- Jordan just called," Sirris says alarming both of you. You jolt over to look at Siris and your eyes are a little wide. "Did you not tell him you were not going to make it tonight?"

Sydney shakes his head before Siris sighs. "Well. Get your coat then. You can't make a commitment then not show up"

"We have a guest over can't you tell him that?" Sydney asks before Sirris is practically pushes Sydney out the door. "What kind of father would I be if I let you get away with that? Now hurry up. I'll get your friend home after the dishes are done."

Sydney looks a little upset as he rushed out the door. But he says his goodbyes and leaves.

He leaves you both there. Standing in the house. The Erie quiet starts to hit you.

Siris locks the door in front of you the deadbolt clacking into place. Sirris tilts his head at you a moment before his eyes are fixed fully on you. There's something much more frightening about your science teacher as he takes slow purposeful steps toward you.

#let me know if you wanna part two!! #im all about building that dread baby #sirris the science teacher #sydney the faithful #degrees of lewdity teachers #degrees of lewdity #trash writes #trash writes shorts #made some minor edits #yan dol #yandere #tw yandere #yandere tropes #x reader #gn reader

[subtly-tame]

i am an adult. i consider myself alterhuman. i use any pronouns. this is a sideblog, often i will reblog directly from therian or alterhuman tags in bulk and then leave this blog unattended for long stretches of time, if you're wondering how i found your post

this blog is run by two dogs–whether they're one dog that changes or whether they're actually two separate dogs is up in the air, but primarily i'm a coyote or a coydog, but i'm also a golden retriever at times

#mine #pinned #made some minor edits #not that it made anything less confusing despite my efforts #the good news is we're all confused together #tag for coyoteself: desert #tag for domesticself: backyard #other tags i may use: #visage #nature #text #experience

[dazachi]

Theory time on the whole "ADA member transfers to PM" deal and why I genuinely think this was part of Dazai's plan (loooong post):

Based on what we have, I actually think we can assume that Fukuzawa, Ranpo, Dazai, all of the higher ups in the PM, and the govt. are aware of the deal and that Dazai will go back. Here's why:

Prior to Fyodor's arrest, Dazai had been maintaining an essentially crimeless record (and if he does do something morally questionable, he either had government backing from Ango, or was done in a way that can't be pointed back to him).

However, before anything could progress in S4, Dazai purposely put himself out in public to get arrested. I'd even argue that he had Ango purposely release some of his old crimes rather than it being written on the ripped page of the book (and if it was actually written in the book, then Dazai must have anticipated it in the first place because he knows Fyodor would do that).

This idea is further cemented by the fact that Ango, Mori, and Chuuya are actually aware of what Dazai is doing (more than the ADA even). Dazai had contacts in and out of Mersault ready before his arrest.

To make these plans in the first place, Dazai had to have talked to (at least) Mori and Ango. This would have to be roughly around the same time as when Mori and Fukuzawa made a deal. What if all of this was just one meeting?

Because let's face it. Fukuzawa only saying "except Yosano" was such a red flag moment. If there was anyone Mori would have wanted back in his control, it would either be his angel of death or his demon prodigy. The conversation must not have ended there...

Also, why was this deal even created in the first place? I feel like there could have been a different agreement, and this just looks like an excuse to get Dazai to go back. Fukuzawa agreeing with this deal is weird because he knows what the PM is like. Why would he subject his employees to possibly experience working there?

Dazai may have actually purposely put himself up for the taking in preparation to a future enemy that needed him back in the PM- back in his hometurf with all the manpower he could command and to give soukoku the free reign they had once again (without the limitations of the law on Dazai).

So anyway, now we have Dazai with his crimes leaked, which would have been fine alone because it could be played off as part of what was written on the page, but then he kills some guards in Mersault and commits jailbreak, along with several other crimes in just 30 minutes. In addition, he is clearly shown to be working with Chuuya, a well-known criminal, who has also committed several crimes while there.

Say what you will about Mersault security (which is actually good but just couldn't keep the demons on hold lmao), but they would 100% have records of what Dazai had done there. Even if he could be considered crimeless before, he can no longer be called crimeless again now. His actions here are beyond the manipulations of the book. To have these crimes (in France) erased would require the government to have an agreement with another country and to have Dazai go into hiding for some time again (doable, but troublesome).

That leaves us to the fact that Dazai is back to willingly committing crimes and partnering up with Chuuya as Soukoku for an extended period of time. All of these acts are known to Mori and Ango.

This implies that the choice had been made prior to S4, and this is why Dazai could do all these crazy schemes.

This also clears up why Ranpo and Fukuzawa no longer consider Dazai in the ADA roster recently. Not because they don't care for him, but because he is secretly no longer part of the ADA in the first place, and Dazai's safety is now under the concern of the PM.

Scarily enough, this could also possibly set up Dazai as the next boss of the PM in preparation for the next big enemy. One thing some people in the fandom noticed was that Mori had mentioned before that Dazai would become the boss when he turns 23. This fits in the timeline well because Dazai is several months (or maybe even weeks) closer to his 23rd birthday (or he may already be 23 right now). All of this may have been pre-planned for longer than we think.

Also, as a personal opinion on the other possible transfer candidates, they actually have better hold on the ADA and would not function well in the PM.

The PM would clash with Kunikida's ideals (though it would be interesting to have the future leader of the ADA be put in the PM the same way the future leader of the PM was employed in the ADA)

Tanizaki would be a great candidate, especially for his skills (and it would be interesting to have another redhead in the PM hahaha), but I highly doubt Naomi would take his transfer sitting down (Naomi would probably even attempt to join the PM) and, in turn, Junichiro would hate to bring his sister in the PM as well. Tanizaki's entire shtick involves his care for his sister, and taking that away brings him back to having no motivation to go crazy.

Atsushi is actually my 2nd option. Moving Atsushi to the PM would make him learn more about how the PM functions, and this allows SSKK to spend more time building their relationship. Chuuya could watch over the two of them as an aide to Dazai's mentoring, and this could lead to more character growth for Atsushi. Unfortunately, this voids Atsushi's plans to learn how to fight under Kunikida's tutelage, and the "no killing" deal with Akutagawa slightly lessens its impact because they would now be in the criminal organization rather than the opposing one (I'd rather have Akutagawa join the ADA tbh. This would further cement the "no killing" idea that Atsushi demands of him and build the SSKK partnership.)

Kenji is also a good bet, but the PM already has Chuuya, which makes having Kenji redundant. Kyoka would not return without an all out brawl and would actually waste all the efforts from S2. Ranpo would be insufferable lmao, and he is not made for Mafia types of strategy (he's smart! But he is not here for the manipulation and long chess matches. He doesn't have the patience for that when he can get straight to the point), and I'm not sure who in the PM he would have synergy with yet...he works best as a detective.

NOW, I may be wrong, because who knows what Asagiri will pull on us, and all of this is based on what is shown (I'm not sure if we could trust it lol), but this is the theory I came up with based on my understanding of events. Dazai planned to go back, and the tripartite knows of it.

Before anyone says this is a waste of Dazai's character development, I'd argue that there may be a misconception as to what Dazai is actually here to learn.

Odasaku knows that good and evil does not matter to Dazai. Dazai choosing to save people is not Dazai's character growth because he has ALWAYS been capable of that despite his unconventional means. The real character growth that Dazai needed was that there was a world beyond the darkness that he insists on putting himself in, and that he is capable humanity. Mori realized this too by proving the humanity in Dazai by chasing him out with Odasaku's death. Dazai has also realized this, and is now ready to return to his hellhole as a new man touched by the light. He is ready to be a leader, not the tyrant that he would have been without this lesson. Mori just prevented another insane mafia boss from taking the throne.

In addition, the PM has repeatedly been defined as the organization that protects the city in the dark. Being in the PM does not hinder Dazai from saving people (again, they've done so before while there). This might actually give him more power to move around and defend Yokohama more efficiently.

I guess this is it for now. I may have missed some things, but these are my main arguments for now hehe

#bungou stray dogs #bsd theory #firm believer of Dazai going back to PM because he is the only one meeting the plot reqts lol #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bro said its his turn to play with the xbox #dazai having full command of the PM and being amicable to the entire tripartite is probably important for the future! #also wow this is long...i keep yapping #im a pro yapper. this is my 2nd blog where i keep yappinh #dazai would not be surprised by the deal too. he can read mori as if the man were a toddler book lmao. #edit: i made some minor grammatical corrections and made the title bigger

[glossolali]

;-)

#love overwhelming the wizard..... #he's squirmy so essie is helping hold him down :-) #shadowidomauk #shadowgast #widomauk #shadowmauk #caleb widogast #mollymauk #essek #glossoart #glossopost #nsfw? #ish #made some minor edits after 400 notes for my own peace of mind LOL #fuck it ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[spiderrverse]

The Spot Icons

#atsv #this is for all of yall that were goin crazy for him in the tag/comments of my last spot icon post #a little treat #this is essentially most of the leftover spot icons i made that didnt make the cut for the last post #atsv icons #the spot #across the spiderverse #as always no credit needed #just did some minor edits #vark posts #atsv spoilers

[thatrandombystander]

I don't know how accurate Graphtreon is, but according to its data the Rusty Quill Patreon has lost like 50% of its patrons since TMA ended in March last year.

While narratively TMA ended in a really good spot, it was also really bad for Rusty Quill as a company. I don't know how much money they're making from other revenue sources (like merch) but this has got to have been a HUGE drop in revenue in just 18 months. Not sure how much/what they gain from the RQ Network shows?

I would guess that the company failed to accurately anticipate the drop, and had been operating with the assumption that revenue would increase, hold stable, or at least not drop this much after TMA.

The ongoing global impact of COVID, global economic issues and inflation, and the absolute shit state of UK economics and the British pound specifically are also not going to be doing any wonders for them either.

It looks like they have overcommitted to too many projects that they no longer have the revenue to fund, which is why they're now seeing staff cuts, show delays, and will probably have some show cancellations soon.

I feel a lot of sympathy for staff/projects being let go, but with how volatile money in the creative industries is right now... well, I can't really put that much blame or anger on RQ for this outcome. I really hope everyone out of a job manages to find more work. I haven't heard anything about abuse or mistreatment, other than I guess employee financial stress from the whole money situation, so I don't have any animosity about it beyond "man that sucks".

But I am definitely tempering my expectation for whatever TMA2 is; I sincerely hope that there is a quality narrative to justify bringing it back, but I am very wary that it's predominantly a way to recuperate lost funds.

I think Rusty Quill is going to need to take a big step back and re-evaluate their budget. Both in their revenue streams and expenditures.

I'm wondering if maybe they would benefit from switching to more crowdfunding and kickstarters as a model to start projects? That way they can get an idea for how much interest there is in those projects, and how much money they can afford to spend on them?

#rusty quill #tma #the magnus archives #ramblings of a bystander #*for transparency: minor edits to some wording made in this post about an hour after posting it

[bambiraptorx]

I finally got chapter 17 out so I can post these lol (Minor Interference is going great)

#rottmnt #rottmnt au #minor interference au #minor interference meme #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanfiction #i made some of these when i was tired from editing so if they don't make sense that's why lol

[magistralucis]

Unravel [Imotekh/Orikan Fanfiction]

We happened, soldier. There's no cure for that.

---------

Written for @eleooooooo during the Secret Sanguinala Exchange 2023. The tale of the Stormlord's rise to the throne, from when he was a soldier to the flames of the furnace. He is in possession of a true Diviner and a great destiny.

They burn him terribly. To remember is to be annihilated.

Imotekh/Orikan, though Trazyn is visiting. Novella-length (23k words). Pre- and post-biotransference headcanons. Highly NSFW.

[Originally published 25/12/2023 - AO3 link here.]

#warhammer 40k #wh40k #orikan the diviner #imotekh the stormlord #trazyn the infinite #necrons #necron #fanfiction #unravel #zahndrekh: *appears in a single scene to say fuck and then leaves* #so whose the real winner actually 🥴 #since this was initially published i've made some minor edits to the text and appended proper citations + endnotes #had a lot of fun writing this one 💖💖💖

[bipbopdepmop]

catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day / "this is our rainy day. help us. please."

fanart for @lunarblazes awesome fic!!! (link!!)

#bipbop art #pearlescentmoon #pearlescentmoon fanart #hcs8 #kinda proud of this one!!! #i am happy with the shading. for the msot part. #the rest is eh. maube ill fix some things later idk #no energy atm #minor edit made

[captainofthetidesbreath]

Because @utilitycaster said the first of Gruumsh's commandments reads like a live laugh love style maxim and there should totally be a cross-stitch pattern, and I think the best use of my time is figuring out how to make patterns, here's a Gruumsh "Ruin. Ravage. Kill." cross-stitch with a version for EGTW's "Ruin. Conquer. Kill."

Disclaimer here is that I don't actually cross-stitch. Also, the lettering is from the Alagard font by Hewett Tsoi.

Legitimately if anyone makes an actual cross-stitch of this, using this or any other design, utilitycaster and I legitimately want to see it.

#Critical Role #Critical Role things #Gruumsh my beloved #ETA: I've been making small edits to this throughout the day to fix some minor spacing and height errors. #So. Check back regularly to see if a small update has been made!

[mirrortouchedsea]

HiMERU was fuming when he walked into the church. His brother was just sitting here this whole time, not even bothering to look for him or do anything useful? HiMERU needed to stay calm. His fists were clenched at his side. He walked up to Tatsumi Kazehaya and asked him if he had been keeping Kaname against his will, which was met with a negative response. Kaname had stayed of his own free will. I would never force someone to stay, Tatsumi said.

HiMERU stormed over to his brother seated in one of the pews next to Amagi’s younger brother and the other child he couldn’t be bothered to learn the name of and grabbed him by the wrist. Let’s go, there’s no reason for you to stay here. Kaname resisted, though HiMERU was stronger and continued walking out to where Rinne, Niki and Kohaku were sitting outside. 

Onii-chan I can’t leave. That priest said he wasn’t forcing you to stay so we’re going. He isn’t but--onii-chan please just listen-- 

HiMERU took one step outside the chapel, Kaname’s hand breaching the doorway, still in his grasp. It suddenly felt… 

He looked down and saw it begin to rot away. 

I can’t leave, Onii-chan. 

#shay writes #enstars #ensemble stars #kaname tojou #himeru #post apocalypse au #made myself work on one of my other fics before posting this one #kaokana fic is sitting at 12k words rn. worked on chapter 3 finally and i'm getting somewhere with it #did a little bit of editing on it too but i'm waiting to do any major edits til i feel the chapter is done #chapter 3 is sitting just shy of 1k words rn but i'm hoping to get another 2-3k in there before posting i'm just #going to have to outline it a bit more to figure out what i want to reveal when though i'm #quite happy with what i have right now for it #anyway more post apocalypse au!!!!!! #forgot to post this when i wrote it but it ended up with some minor changes so #its fine its fine its FINE #i seriously need to make a doc with everything for this au at some point

[astersugar]

i saw this lirikaMatoshi sweater and wanted to draw andrew in it <3

here's the picture of the sweater in question, just in case the link ever breaks (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

#the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal #tcoaal fanart #andrew graves #i made some minor edits but this is basically from november and i just never properly finished it til now #so here u go #fashion #for my tags #blythe draws

[evilasiangenius]

The First (and Last) Night of the Rest of Their Lives

As Aziraphale studied the statue of two wrestling angels in the entry, Crowley was immediately ashamed and embarrassed to have suggested staying over. His flat, which had always seemed at the very leading and exceedingly sharp edge of luxury and taste now seemed cold and empty, as if no better than a stage set in a luxury home design catalog, but done in bare concrete as if the designers could not be bothered painting the walls or hanging up some proper art.

Compared to the bookshop, it felt like an empty warehouse.

Crowley scowled to himself, and felt a tiny bit of gratitude for Past Crowley who had at least had the decency to close the concealed entry to the office so that the angel could not see his massive gilt and velvet chair that had always reminded him of the thrones of Heaven, but now felt like a mortifying reminder of the Fall.

And then he remembered the fridge.

“Care for...erm. Supper? Soup perhaps? A fruit tart?” Crowley suggested, thinking up food on the fly. Whatever he fancied or suggested usually was in the fridge, chilled to perfection even if it had never quite been plugged in since he had bought it. In fact, the freezer tended to output hot foods too; he had had quite a tasty pizza more than once from the freezer, as hot and crisp as if it had come directly from a blazing wood-fired oven.

“That sounds lovely.”

That was the problem with bodies, Crowley thought as he walked to the kitchen, was that bodies had Needs and all of them were so mundane. Water, food...not that they really needed them, but it helped make things feel better inside, as if wearing a nice coat but in your interior. Then again the corporeal life was so much more interesting than the sullen grinding misery of Hell where it was always 4:45 PM on a miserable Friday afternoon in early January, but the work day was just never going to end.

Crowley began pulling things at random from the gleaming stainless-steel fridge. A bottle of Champagne whose temperature was the exact temperature of a chilly cave in Reims, not now of course, but the temperature at the time that the Roman salt quarry that had preceded the later champagne caves had been dug. A plate of soft and hard cheeses of varying provenance, some of them imaginary. A salad that was mostly edible flowers and rare local fruits that were never exported and only in season briefly in the very far south of the Southern Hemisphere, which meant that it was not in season now, anywhere. And from the bottom freezer drawer, a big steaming earthenware pot of Brandy Broth as it had been made in the late 19th century by a loving Welsh coal mining family in a lush green mountain valley whose lives were being threatened by modernity and a growing mountain of mining slag. The last because Crowley liked soup. And of course, the promised fruit tart.

Aziraphale watched with a curious eye.

“How dreadfully useful. Where did you get this? How does it work? How did you make that happen? Are these all miracles?”

“I don't know,” Crowley confessed. “I think it's a Hotpoint.”

It never took him very long to eat, but it was a delight to linger and watch the angel eat, who exclaimed at every new flavor and even at the familiar ones, who savored every bite as if it were the last.

Which it nearly was. And probably would be soon.

Crowley slumped back in his chair, and as his hand languidly reached for his espresso, it grew warm again and fresh. That too had been in the fridge, in the middle drawer in a carafe. As far as Crowley knew, coffee always came from a carafe, even if it was espresso. At least he took that black, like everything else.

The angel was relating a story, something about a dream or perhaps the story was about someone named Dream but it wasn't very clear and Crowley didn't mind the details, just letting the sound of Aziraphale's voice wash over him like the way a person listens to a favorite symphony, familiar and yet wandering, every note sending a pleasing thrill of pleasure through the heart.

“Well then. Thank you. That was lovely. We should have dinner in more often,” Aziraphale said, wiping his mouth fastidiously with a cloth napkin which he refolded and set down by his empty plate.

“Yes, of course. Not that there's more often left for us.” Crowley glared at the dishes, which did not dare stay dirty for long as they knew what happened to stragglers; immediately they were spotless.

“We might as well make the best of it while they're deciding what to do with us. Now what?”

It was summer, and night this high up on the Northern Hemisphere was a fleeting commodity. But time seemed to tick on slower than usual, and Crowley wondered if it had something to do with the young Antichrist. After all, warm summer evenings were the best for chasing after fireflies, for swimming in cool ponds, for hunting earthworms in the soft soil to go fishing the next day, and for lying in sweet meadows of flowers and grasses, your head pillowed in your arms, staring up at the sweep of stars in the vast expanse of the heavens and naming the constellations with your best friends by your side, making up names when you didn't remember what they were called.

“Cards. Books. Chess. CDs?” Crowley thought it over. “I have a television,” he admitted, saying it quietly as if hoping that the angel would not ask where it was. “What do you usually do in your shop?”

“Read. Listen to music. But you know, that's something to do by oneself; it's not the same when you're with a friend.”

Crowley felt his mouth twitch in three or four different directions at once. “I have a nice lounge with lots of plants where we could sit on the white leather...no wait. How about this, let me show you this thing that mortals enjoy.”

“Are you tempting me?” Aziraphale grinned; it was the angel's oldest and most favorite joke and Crowley had been on the receiving end of it since at least the Roman era. No, it was Sumeria, and that was sometime after the Flood. Except back then it wasn't called Sumeria yet and they had both briefly struggled over a wild young man named Enkidu and nearly discorporated each other in the process.

“Sure. Why not.”

“This is...nice.” Aziraphale's hands spread out, palms stroking the crisp clean linens. The comforter was folded down; Crowley knew in theory it was supposed to go over the body, but liked folding it into an ersatz bolster to kick his feet up on.

“The mortals call it 'Sleep'. But surely they do it now with more civility than they used to.”

“Oh heavens, remember when it was no more than little green bowers made out of leaves? Or when the cow was in the same room, and they'd just shovel the dried manure right into the fire to keep warm? Absolutely appalling.”

“Don't remind me of the 14th century; just don't.”

“It's so soft and cool to lie here.” Aziraphale folded his hands over his chest politely, staring at the blank concrete expanse of the ceiling. “And you just do this for a while?”

“Until I feel like getting up,” Crowley said, leaving his hands limp at his sides. He too stared at the ceiling but for different reasons than the angel, reasons that mostly involved jangled nerves and the proximity of the other. “Sometimes I close my eyes. Do some thinking. Shall I put on some music? I have some Soul Music that perhaps would be to your taste...”

“No, this is enough.” A breath and a pleased sigh; a wiggle that sent a tiny earthquake moving through the memory foam and spring and feather mattress. “Oh, that is nice. No wonder the humans like it.”

“Shifts all that gravity around the body. Redist... Redistri-boo. Gkh. You know what I mean.” Was that a lot of champagne with dinner? Crowley didn't know for certain but then the bottle never seemed to empty.

“Yes. I always do.”

The gentle press of another hand against his and this time Crowley felt his mouth moving in four or five directions at once. The angel had sharper senses than him when it came to peeping ethereals; if Aziraphale was doing this, it meant that no one was watching.

No one was watching.

Suddenly he gripped the angel's hand tight.

“Do you think this is a dream, angel?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Maybe the Apocalypse did happen? Because it seems that we've...died and gone to heaven?”

“Do you remember it? The Fall.” Crowley asked abruptly. It had been on his mind for quite some time but he had never dared asked the angel, though he came close once in Abydos, a long time ago.

“No, not really,” Aziraphale confessed. “It's strange isn't it? That you remember it so clearly and I don't. I'm not sure any of us do. By which I mean...”

“I know what you mean,” Crowley said, a little sharper than he meant it. “Sorry. Don't you think it's strange that you don't remember?”

“Sometimes I wonder if our memories of it were torn right out of us,” Aziraphale said. “It always seemed as if something was missing afterwards. One moment we're all together and the next...”

“Why do you think we all have a counterpart?” Crowley interrupted. “Mirror images staffing Heaven and Hell.”

“It seems as though you've put some thought into this.”

“Yes. Bit more than six thousand years worth of thought, if you can imagine.” Crowley's hand twitched, and he felt the warm press of the angel's hand against his, giving him a squeeze.

He continued to stare at the ceiling; that was better than seeing the gleaming heavens implied in the angel's bright eyes.

“I think that we were all one once,” Crowley said. “And the rebellious parts were split off and thrown away like cutting the bad part off of a pear.”

“I don't think I've ever had a bad pear.”

“Maybe pears are always good for you,” Crowley said, “Because they couldn't bear to to be otherwise.”

“Oh.” The angel was silent for a long moment; he had never considered that possibility.

“That. Was supposed to be funny. Or not. I don't know. Look. All that to say...maybe that's part of the design flaw and why we're here right now. Always seeking to return to that other half, as they say. Makes sense why we can't seem to stop running into each other. Canceling each other out. Et cetera.”

“You mean, like the Greeks?”

“Shut up,” Crowley said crossly.

“I think maybe you're right.” Aziraphale's voice seemed fractionally closer than it was before. Crowley finally glanced over and realized that the angel must have been looking at him the entire time.

“Y-yeah?”

“Maybe that's why I don't remember. I just...remember the announcement afterwards and feeling kind of...oddly still. Like. Like something was gone, but it was impossible that something was gone because how could it have ever? We have always been and we always will.”

“The Will of God,” Crowley said, and an old sadness fell over him, an old longing. And he sighed but when he did, it seemed as if something inside of him loosened.

A feeling crept over him, starting from the tips of his fingers, and for a moment he did not know what it was; he had never felt anything like this before. It was a closeness he had only fond and distant memories of, like the quiet and sweet intimacy that comes in the silent moments when two pairs of eyes meet in fondness, but it was something much more than that. Suddenly he was taken to the heights of the deepest understanding and knowledge and being, and he could feel his very soul embraced by that sensation. Denser than emotion, more profound than love, more intense than all the fires of Hell or all the glories of Heaven put together. It was like the first moment of oxygen after a long dive into the depths, a relief and closeness and togetherness that he had not felt in eons.

It flowed through him like a vast tide and he was caught up in the surge of feeling, a poor pitiful swimmer on the vast ocean, and for one brief moment it seemed that he could see it again, the tiny blue pearl of the earth as seen from the distant starry heavens, the sweet murmur of angelic voices all about him in celestial harmony, until suddenly when he opened his eyes and came to again, he was looking at himself.

“Oh my,” Aziraphale – no, Crowley said.

“I think that was...”

“A union of souls.” Aziraphale blushed, and Crowley felt weirdly hot seeing his own face look like that.

“You feel...” Crowley felt himself in Aziraphale's form, in the pleasing intimacy of all its curves and bumps and edges. It was like being in the direct warmth of sunlight streaming through dappled summer leaves, on a day so perfectly warm that it seemed that the air itself was wrapped in a toasty and comforting blanket around his whole body. It was the warmth of baking, of hugs, of sunny meadows, and plush toys, things that he had only seen depicted by mortals on the television and had never really experienced himself, not since...

“And you...” Aziraphale sighed, and it was the same sound the angel made when he had something breathtakingly delicious.

“Brisk? Chilly? Cold?”

“No. Not at all. Just...very much like you.” Aziraphale smiled from Crowley's body. He knew all the angel's expressions and it was not that indulgent smile that he liked to press onto mortals as if it would get the angel his way (though it often did), but a rare and genuine private smile, the kind that Aziraphale only made with his eyes and not quite his mouth as if realizing some particularly warm and peculiar emotion.

Something was wrong with this body's eyes; for a moment everything blurred but blinking more seemed to help refocus the lenses of the eyes. Crowley reached up as if to heaven, but it was to explore one hand with the other, feeling each joint of the fingers, the creased flesh of the knuckles, the cool golden crown of the ring, and to look at the fine pale hair that stood nearly invisible at the back of the hands.

And oh, the hands! He set them down, and they rested naturally on the soft expanse of a belly, the tips of the fingers of his left hand running past the golden watch fob that hung from the pale waistcoat.

“Oh, I wish you wouldn't do that,” Aziraphale exclaimed. “It's embarrassing to have such a round gut. Whereas you're all muscle under these clothes. That's rather amazing. I had suspected but had never quite known for sure.” Aziraphale patted the limbs of the borrowed body, surprised.

“You mean, like a snake. No, I rather like it this way. I mean you,” Crowley said. “Whoever told you otherwise is a fool that should be ignored. It's so very nice to be soft. Lovely warm feeling. Comfortable.” He said the word slowly, stretching out each syllable.

Aziraphale was silent for a long time. But then when he spoke, he sounded nervous. “Should we? We should, shouldn't we? Switch back that is. I mean, any moment now they could be looking in on us...”

“Naaaaah.” Crowley hugged himself, chafing his arms. It was a good sensation, warm and cozy, like a cup of hot coffee on a cold wet morning but without any of the bitterness. “Let's just stay like this. Spend the day in each other's shoes. I like how you feel. You feel good. So warm and cozy.”

“I think...” And Crowley felt himself tense, expecting the angel's outrage, expecting to be immediately evicted from the pleasing confines of this soft warm body. But then the angel surprised both of them. “I think I'd like that.” Aziraphale's voice seemed distant, and when Crowley looked over, his eyes were shut and he was well and truly asleep.

“Sleep well, my dear.” Even his voice sounded like Aziraphale's and that made Crowley smile with a wistfulness that his usual face did not often show. Leaning over, he saw that Aziraphale had fallen asleep the way Crowley often liked to, head tilted to one side and a palm pressed against his cheek, fingers dug into his thick dark hair.

Carefully, Crowley reached up and ran his fingers through his – well, Aziraphale's hair. It was as fine and as soft as he had imagined, perhaps finer and softer, and lying back down, Crowley let the body do as it wanted to do to relax. And oddly he was not surprised when found himself with his palm pressed against his cheek, feeling springing blond curls beneath his fingertips.

Though he didn't sleep, Crowley's thoughts drifted. However much longer they had together, whatever they had to face, this would have to be enough, he thought. Even if it were the end of this life, of this existence, it seemed that it would have all been worth it, just for this one fleeting night.

x

#good omens #good omens fanfic #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #there was only one bed #ao3 outage #here have some reading :) #I'll post some of the shorter stories #these may not be quite the same as those posted on ao3 #as sometimes i made minor edits #there are a few more bits of this with aziraphale as a snake #doing ridiculous things like trying to climb a tree and scaring humans #ao3 outage reading

[fentennyson]

Mini Charmcaster redraws

#also my redesigns for Charmcaster #I did the OV one first so the shading on her hair is a different color than the other two and I couldn't change it so 🥲 #I was too lazy to do screenshot edits so I just did redraws instead #I only made minor changes to her OS design bc I didn't have that many problems with it #and I don't have many problems with her UAF design either but I still made some minor changes #her OV design however I altered heavily #I'm like the only person who isn't really fond of her OV design lol #ben 10 #charmcaster #screenshot redraws

[aquateenpatrolsomethingshowshow]

i fucking love this image sm

AND EUSTACE IN THE BACK IS FUCKING SENDING ME 💀💀💀

#someone in a discord server i was in a couple summers ago made this and i was stimming and pissing myself so hard when i first saw it #this is fucking gold 🙏🏻🙏🏻 #it also combines two of my all time fav things too which is why i was getting all stimmy at first #i used to watch cartoon cartoon fridays videos on yt as a kid so this is very nostalgic to me #and like tbh i feel like with some very MINOR justifications- #meatwad could probably pass as a character on a cartoon network show considering his innocent/childish like personality #its so classic ccf to edit eustace in back too since when a character would host there was always at least someone else in the background #this image is honestly so mecore coded its not funny #its been like 2 years since i first saw it and it never fails to make me smile and laugh lol #imagine meatwad hosting though like that would be so cute and funny tbh #i feel like it would be similar to when dexter first hosted and kept messing up the line up by accident lmao #but maybe worse lol #athf #aqua teen #aqua teen hunger force #meatwad #courage the cowardly dog #eustace bagge #ccf #cartoon cartoon fridays

[andthebeanstalk]

Yo I don't know if anyone else is seriously bothered by this but those "good luck" posts where everyone goes wow this post really works you HAVE to reblog it or else you won't get the good thing that happens when you reblog it and therefore it's your fault if the good thing doesn't happen because you didn't reblog the post,

Yeah, those posts. They don't ummmmmmmmm

They don't work.

Like, listen, a little prayer of good luck to give yourself hope is one thing, but every single one of these posts has a comment that is like "this is literally magic I received life-altering amounts of money because of this post REBLOG THIS NOW." And assuming these accounts aren't just also the original poster emotionally manipulating people - And brushing over how foolish/cruel it feels to give false hope and additional tasks to those in poverty AND moving on from how absolutely shitty these posts are for people with compulsion-related disorders or difficulty discerning reality--

it feels to me that the more we make up magic that doesn't exist in this world, the harder it is to see how things really are, and the more it obscures from us the magic that actually does exist. Things like magnetism, electricity, human thought and connection, emotion, storytelling, machinery, fire. That's the sort of magic we have in this world. These magics are real and they can be manipulated in miraculous and terrible ways.

And maybe it's just the way my mind works, but if I am able to convince myself that a photo of a four-leaf clover has any amount of cosmic power over my life, then I am no longer looking clearly at my situation and what I need to do to change it. I am no longer able to truly see the magic that IS there.

I feel the same way about astrology honestly. I don't think it's bad to believe in as long as you're not ascribing it to unwilling people, but I personally do feel like if I believed the shapes the Romans saw in the stars made me who I am, then not only would I deny myself autonomy, but also I would miss out on the magic of the stars as huge lonely nuclear light giants indifferent to and ignorant of the lives of humans in terrifying and beautiful ways. I might even dismiss scientific discoveries that didn't fit my view. And I think I've seen enough of the damage that can do for one lifetime. (I am aware that I probably wouldn't have so many problems with astrology if I wasn't a furious ex-Catholic. But again, there's nothing wrong with faith as long as you're not slapping it onto other people.)

But, gods, I hate these fucking good luck posts.

I am not poor due to the stars or the lack of luck-money posts on my dashboard. I am poor because I live in oppressive power structures that I hope to see burn in my lifetime. I need as clear a view of this reality as possible.

If you want to spread positive magic, you have to spread love and information and images/stories of a beautiful shared future that other people are invited to be a part of.

I'm a big believer in Hope. I believe hope is a sacred thing. But I'm not a big fan of false hope.

So in conclusion, if you reblog this post and then tomorrow something very lucky and seemingly unrelated happens, it had nothing to do with this post.

The only Magic will be the magic of unfathomably huge amounts of data transferring all across the world instantaneously to reach you and show you words that came from someone else's heart and mind.

The only Magic will be however it makes you feel to know that if you need luck, at least one other person in this world wants good things to happen to you: I care that you are found. I care that you are loved. I care that you are safe. I care that you live long enough to find or be found by happiness and that you then live for a very long time after that. And I don't need to meet you to know that I'm right.

Know that I will spend the rest of my life working to build spaces where you would be welcome. And maybe you and I will never meet, but I happen to know there's a whole lot of people like me in this world. And I happen to know that as long as you are alive, there is a chance you will grow old in warmth and comfort, surrounded by friends. There is a chance that your old eyes will be crinkled at the sides with laugh lines. And that's magic. That's real magic.

#original #if I'm honest I think I made some of these points better in the tags of that one post I have about the cake #but clearly I'm processing something so #hopepunk #cripple punk #cripplepunk #good luck #magic #you have no idea how much I wish other types of magic existed cuz I really want to be a wizard but that doesn't mean there's no magic #i want Magic Missile but all I have is an autistic drive to see things without ambiguity. XD #too much false hope can kill a person. it's so irresponsible to spread false hope. spread real hope. tell the fucking truth. #there are things in this world worth hoping for. real things. tell someone they are worthy of good things. that's hope. that's good luck. #it's actually quite lucky to be unexpectedly told kind and true things. like finding $20. except my poor ass can actually provide it #not tagging this with astrology so people are less likely to yell at me lol #there's probably a better version of this post in which I cut a lot of the bitching at the start but hey I needed to bitch #it's my right as a hot bitch. #edit: ALSO another thing this reminds me of is how a lot of white women who practice witchcraft really want to believe that they #at some point in history were a persecuted minority. 'we are the great-great-granddaughters of the witches you didn't burn!' #like sorry no there have been no witches burned and no witches hung the horror of it all is that they were just normal women #white people are not the great great granddaughters of witches. we are the great great grandchildren of slave owners. #any narrative that leads us to forget that is extremely suspect.