galacticforces - Tumblr blog

[galacticforces]

“Never fear, Mabel is here!” -gravityfallsmultibitches (Mabel, obvi lmao I figure that this can be them coming back to Gravity Falls)

@gravityfallsmultibitches

"Uh. Okay, you're here." He awkwardly patted her head, a bit higher up than it was the year before last. "I don't know that anyone was afraid, but sure, kid. Glad you're back. Because now you can go do some repairs I've been meaning to get to, and for no other reason. Yup! Nothing else!"

[galacticforces]

She took my ability to die in the divorce

[galacticforces]

Sleep. He hadn't done that in centuries, but... Yes, Crowley might be right. Again. "Not without you," he protested before he could stop himself from sounding so terribly needy. "I don't- I can't trust it." He was becoming incoherent, but Crowley had to know how important this was to him, rational or not. "Crowley, I can't trust anything but you. Don't- Don't leave."

Tears still shone in his eyes and on his cheeks, and he was still fairly covered in his blood, or at least felt as though he was, and everything ached, and all he knew for certain was fear. And trust of his demon. "Promise. Not even if I sleep for a month like you do."

With an agonizingly slow prickly spread of heat, the blood oozing steadily from his wounds slowed and stopped, everything scabbing over. It wasn't clean, and it wasn't neat, and it wasn't anywhere near done, but it was enough, Aziraphale thought hoped, to keep discorporation at bay. And discorporation, now, would spell the end of his very existence. He could hardly form a thought around the loss and the pain, but what he did come up with, in his mind's feeble scrambling, was gratitude. So much of it that it was overwhelming.

"No. No, you were right. I never should have gone. Crowley... I thought so highly of myself, but I'm... We couldn't stop this. Even if you'd been with me, we couldn't have- and now we can't even run. I'm sorry." He hadn't lost any of his coiled tension or obvious fear--not yet--but that didn't mean his words were any less important. It all needed to be said, before Crowley could tie himself up in knots trying to blame himself for what had clearly been Aziraphale's hubris.

[galacticforces]

"Oh. Oh, Crowley, dear..." Aziraphale reached for his hand, awkward since he didn't move away from him even an inch, and when he caught it, he squeezed, then entangled their fingers. "Yes. Yes, you can touch me, hold me. That's certainly the sort of thing we can get away with now that our respective forces are all but ignoring us." Slowly, he peeled himself away enough to look into Crowley's face, then he reached with his unoccupied hand to his right cheek and held him in place while he kissed his left. He kissed his jaw too, then he took his other hand.

"I suppose I'd just gotten to used to it--that careful distance. But you... you don't need to maintain it. Not anymore, I promise." How long had Crowley been longing for that? Aziraphale wondered. Had he been denying him his simple need for touch for so long that he'd learned to ignore the signs of it, or was Aziraphale simply oblivious by nature? "I think I'd be perfectly content if you were in reach all of the time, if you cared to be." He paused, for a moment, worry gripping at him painfully. "Are you certain that's all?"

Crowley could make as many requests as he'd like for the rest of time, as far as Aziraphale was concerned, especially when he was clinging so desperately. Not that Aziraphale's grip was anything less than desperate, of course. He closed his eyes and pressed his nose down into Crowley's collar and took a deep, intentional breath.

His blood was pumping much harder than it generally did, and he was waiting, illogically perhaps, for some kind of retribution for his declaration. But no lightning came. No wind or fire or booming almighty condemnation. There was just his demon, wrapped up around him, and the quiet of the moment, and the question he'd yet to answer.

"Yes," he finally said. "Yes, you can make a request. You can make a million requests, or more if you like."

[galacticforces]

Yes, alright. I'll do that one. My treat. Oh, really? I still prefer the funny ones.

[galacticforces]

We've known about it for a long time...

Incorrect Good Omens Quotes Masterpost Part 1 : here

Incorrect Good Omens Quotes Masterpost Part 2 : here

[galacticforces]

Stargate Atlantis | 2x17 Coup d'Etat

[galacticforces]

It was--an incredibly long time. Aziraphale was still grinning at him, glowing with his inextinguishable excitement. He had wound one arm around Crowley's waist now, the one which had been around his wrist having moved to tangle fingers together. "That wouldn't be very practical. Surely someone would see, and then what sort of mess would we be in?" But that wasn't a 'no' and they both knew it.

"But it would be fun. When was the last time you flew?"

Crowley had given him just enough to melt him, leaving him caught up in the moment and perfectly vulnerable to surprise, and then he was gone. Aziraphale's excited shout came only a second later. He followed around shelves for quite a while, as the chase was enjoyable in itself, taking corners with breathless laughter. But when it became repetitive, he took up a new strategy. Predicting Crowley's path, he took an entirely different route to catch him from the side, and after two unsuccessful tries, he caught his demon by the very tips of his fingers--just enough of a hold that he could use it to wrap his other hand around his wrist and pull him close again.

"I can, as it turns out. As I said I would." He was quite please with himself and with his prize, and it showed. "It would be awfully fun to do that in the sky again. Do you remember? Before being seen by stray humans earned a demerit? Could fly all over the place then--plenty of angels chasing each other. And demons, of course."

[galacticforces]

Crowley could make as many requests as he'd like for the rest of time, as far as Aziraphale was concerned, especially when he was clinging so desperately. Not that Aziraphale's grip was anything less than desperate, of course. He closed his eyes and pressed his nose down into Crowley's collar and took a deep, intentional breath.

His blood was pumping much harder than it generally did, and he was waiting, illogically perhaps, for some kind of retribution for his declaration. But no lightning came. No wind or fire or booming almighty condemnation. There was just his demon, wrapped up around him, and the quiet of the moment, and the question he'd yet to answer.

"Yes," he finally said. "Yes, you can make a request. You can make a million requests, or more if you like."

"You've been patient with me for millennia," Aziraphale mused quietly. Regretfully, maybe, but he didn't truly believe that he could've done things differently. Not most of it, anyway. Truthfully, he needed Crowley's patience--it was the only thing supporting them both, it seemed, and he would likely be just as dependent on it until the death of time and everything.

"The one time I've acted impulsively for you, and I've made a right bungled mess of it anyway. But you're still patient, and you're... Crowley. Truthfully..." His voice has dropped to the hushed tones of one betraying the closest-held of secrets, but he knew Crowley could still hear him, pressed close as they were. "I think I've known that you were mine for ages now. I just... Don't know that I quite know what I want that to mean, even given so long to figure it out. It's possible I may never know for sure. But I... I know that I'd like to be just as much yours, Crowley."

He pressed even closer and his voice grew even quieter, hardly more than a breath now. "I'd rather be that. I'd rather be yours than- than heaven's. Rather be yours than God's even." And that, when it came down to it, was a great shame he'd kept carefully hidden for far too long, because if his demon deserved to know anything, it was Aziraphale's sins committed in the name of loving Crowley.

[galacticforces]

Warlock is tucked in, the gardens are quiet except for the grasshoppers, and nanny Ashtoreth comes by with a good bottle of vintage

Reference image by the lovely @adorkastock

[galacticforces]

That was awfully flattering, and a light flush spread across his cheeks as he smiled and ducked his head. Just his voice. Just his voice, having such a profound effect... but then Crowley's hand was in his hair and on his face again, and it was distracting, but he leaned into it anyway, and looked up again in time to see him nod.

He gently grasped Crowley's wrist to guide it away, then he kissed the center of his palm before gently guiding it down to his own chest. Then he moved back down to where he'd been before, regarded the situation, and, after a moment, resumed as suggested.

Aziraphale started gently again, but with the knowledge that Crowley was all wound up and wanted to reach some sort of finish line, he imagined it would be cruel to draw it out too long. He licked and kissed and then gently scraped his teeth over his dick, but only for a minute. Only for long enough to wrap his mind fully around the notion of swallowing something he simply could not swallow. Then, corporation controlled as he'd like, Aziraphale did it again, taking as much of Crowley all the way down into his throat as physics would allow. He didn't have to breathe anyway, so he stayed there, relishing in the novelty of it, and after half a dozen heartbeats to adjust, he started to suck again too, as though it were simply a melting ice lolly or something of the sort. It was pleasant in a truly unexpected, but indulgent way, and as his eyelids fluttered closed and his hands curled possessively around an angular hip and a deliciously soft thigh, he decided without any further prompting that he'd continue with that until Crowley gave him some indication of wanting him to stop.

"Oh!" It occurred to him again how selfish he was being, and he was grateful once more for Crowley's patience. "Close as in close to an orgasm?" He could piece together the incomplete thought enough to deduce that, and he knew enough to realize that that was generally considered very pleasant. "I'm sorry, then. There's no reason at all for you to hold yourself back. We have plenty of time, don't we?" He smiled and produced a handkerchief from somewhere to dab at his bottom lip. "If I resume, will you get back there? Assuming you'd like to experience that, of course--that's entirely up to you." The handkerchief disappeared and Aziraphale leaned up and over Crowley to kiss the corner of his mouth and then along his jaw again. "I'd like to see it, though, if you'd like to do it."

[galacticforces]

First offering from me to the Good Omens Fandom 🙏💫🪽

Crowley Aziraphale standing smugly peacefully into the Hellfire 👁️👁️

[galacticforces]

when a character is referred to as someone else's dog. you agree

[galacticforces]

Crowley had given him just enough to melt him, leaving him caught up in the moment and perfectly vulnerable to surprise, and then he was gone. Aziraphale's excited shout came only a second later. He followed around shelves for quite a while, as the chase was enjoyable in itself, taking corners with breathless laughter. But when it became repetitive, he took up a new strategy. Predicting Crowley's path, he took an entirely different route to catch him from the side, and after two unsuccessful tries, he caught his demon by the very tips of his fingers--just enough of a hold that he could use it to wrap his other hand around his wrist and pull him close again.

"I can, as it turns out. As I said I would." He was quite please with himself and with his prize, and it showed. "It would be awfully fun to do that in the sky again. Do you remember? Before being seen by stray humans earned a demerit? Could fly all over the place then--plenty of angels chasing each other. And demons, of course."

He'd expected to sense Crowley's pursuit as soon as he began his escape, and the delay was enough that Aziraphale paused, concerned, to look behind him. But then Crowley did come after him, and he made a delighted noise before running again, taking a sharp turn around a row of shelves with surprising grace.

It didn't take long at all for Crowley to catch up. Certainly, Aziraphale was faster and more dexterous than he might appear, but Crowley knew this shop nearly as well as he did, and in tight spaces, his demon was at an advantage. Still, he responded to Crowley's touch with surprised and excited laughter, and he made a show of relaxing his body language to display his pleased submission. "Crowley. Crowley, dear." And it's enough to just say his name.

[galacticforces]

"You've been patient with me for millennia," Aziraphale mused quietly. Regretfully, maybe, but he didn't truly believe that he could've done things differently. Not most of it, anyway. Truthfully, he needed Crowley's patience--it was the only thing supporting them both, it seemed, and he would likely be just as dependent on it until the death of time and everything.

"The one time I've acted impulsively for you, and I've made a right bungled mess of it anyway. But you're still patient, and you're... Crowley. Truthfully..." His voice has dropped to the hushed tones of one betraying the closest-held of secrets, but he knew Crowley could still hear him, pressed close as they were. "I think I've known that you were mine for ages now. I just... Don't know that I quite know what I want that to mean, even given so long to figure it out. It's possible I may never know for sure. But I... I know that I'd like to be just as much yours, Crowley."

He pressed even closer and his voice grew even quieter, hardly more than a breath now. "I'd rather be that. I'd rather be yours than- than heaven's. Rather be yours than God's even." And that, when it came down to it, was a great shame he'd kept carefully hidden for far too long, because if his demon deserved to know anything, it was Aziraphale's sins committed in the name of loving Crowley.

Yes, maybe. Crowley always had gone so very quickly. He'd been thinking about the poems for decades, after all, before he actually managed to do anything about it. And then he'd been confronted so quickly and there were questions and... honestly, he'd rather hoped Crowley would realize and then nothing would change but them just knowing each other for a few years, until things perhaps shifted organically. But that had been an unreasonable expectation, because he did know who he'd fallen in love with. He certainly wasn't going to voice it and reveal how silly he'd been.

"I... I love you," he said instead. "And all that you are." But Crowley was pulling away for his comfort, Aziraphale knew, and not for his own, so after only a second, he pulled him right back in. If he didn’t need to give up the illicit warmth of the hug, then he wasn’t going to. Not for a while yet. "Stay? Don't run away?"

[galacticforces]

With an agonizingly slow prickly spread of heat, the blood oozing steadily from his wounds slowed and stopped, everything scabbing over. It wasn't clean, and it wasn't neat, and it wasn't anywhere near done, but it was enough, Aziraphale thought hoped, to keep discorporation at bay. And discorporation, now, would spell the end of his very existence. He could hardly form a thought around the loss and the pain, but what he did come up with, in his mind's feeble scrambling, was gratitude. So much of it that it was overwhelming.

"No. No, you were right. I never should have gone. Crowley... I thought so highly of myself, but I'm... We couldn't stop this. Even if you'd been with me, we couldn't have- and now we can't even run. I'm sorry." He hadn't lost any of his coiled tension or obvious fear--not yet--but that didn't mean his words were any less important. It all needed to be said, before Crowley could tie himself up in knots trying to blame himself for what had clearly been Aziraphale's hubris.

Aziraphale trusted Crowley implicitly. If he thought he could heal him, Aziraphale was more than willing. After all, the alternative was to lay here, slowly dying because he was too weak from the pain to keep making more and more blood at such an alarming speed. He squeezed Crowley's hand gratefully and nodded, though it was just the smallest of movements, then he tucked his face down against the cushions and did his very best to expose his back and the terrible, jagged wounds that ran down the base of where his wings used to be. Exposed to Crowley were ripped and torn muscles, broken bits of bone, a handful of blood-soaked and scraggly feathers at the very base of the mangled and uneven stumps, leftovers of what had once been beautiful (if neglected) white wings as tall as he was. He had never been more vulnerable. And yet, the only urge he had to protect himself was a useless one demanding he hold his injured wings perfectly still, no matter that they were no longer there and that was just causing deeply painful muscle tension.

[galacticforces]

💥 -

“But then Crowley absolutely loves Aziraphale. He hates that he loves him. It’s really annoying for him.”