#anathema laughs so hard

[stolen-glass-bottle]

Absolutely obsessed with the idea of Crowley and Aziraphale dancing at Anathema and Newt’s wedding and everyone expecting like these super graceful and beautiful dances but Aziraphale just does the Gavotte to every single song while Crowley dances next to him looking like all of his bones have turned to rubber

[crowleysgirl56]

Book Omens! A meandering journey to reading Good Omens to my son. A brief interlude because this needs its own individual post, it’s too good not to share.

I have laughed so hard over my son trying to work out just exactly what Anathema and Newt were doing. (I’m so glad the sex scenes are just implied because I’m not ready to have that particularity conversation with him yet.)

Here’s the set up. Anathema and Newt essentially begin to have sex as the Apocalypse is upon them (like in the show), but it’s implied and not described. A few cut scenes in the book, then back to them having done it, lying in bed with Newt talking about how great it was. Anathema suggests he take a shower mostly to get the plaster out of his hair. Then onto a scene with Crowley racing to Tadfield where this inexplicable footnote is included:

Back to Newt and Anathema. Newt has showered but there is still plaster in his hair. He starts to say something about how it got there because of him banging his head against the wall during- when Anathema cuts him off.

My son perks up, “Ooohhh I get it!”

Me: 😐 “get what exactly?”

My son: Newt was trying to do the experiment to see infra-dark! Thats why he has plaster in his hair! I get it now! It makes perfect sense!”

I am now pissing myself laughing.

Me: Yep. Sure. Exactly what that was. Let’s move on!

Onwards to the finale!

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 16!!!

My friends! I have heard your cries! You are worried about Muriel and yearn to know what has become of them! Rest assured, they are in this installment.

Let's do this.

Beginning || Previous || Next

*****************************************

After a moment of commiserative silence, Sardis gets up to go to the bar for another round of drinks. He says sometimes magic just isn’t as good as a properly mixed drink, and leaves. You’ve barely had a sip of your fishbowl.

Jesus is a 13 year-old boy who is white and rich and lives in Los Angeles with his rich parents. The world is doomed.

Your brain is still simmering in the sauce of despair when Anathema suddenly leans in close, pushing glasses to the side as she does. She gets as close to the middle of the table as she can, and you look her up and down because you’re pretty sure the table is sticky (and you’re too scared of the answer to wonder why).

“Okay, listen,” she says urgently, “I need to tell you before Sardis gets back. I got a call from Newt. Muriel’s missing.”

Whatever you were expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. You feel like you’ve suddenly been dropped into ice water. Muriel’s….missing.

“Missing how exactly?” asks Crowley.

“Like missing missing,” Anathema says. How is it that something so vague can clarify her meaning so well? “They went to see a movie, and Muriel just disappeared. He hasn’t been able to find them anywhere.” You don’t have the words to speak yet, but the expression you turn towards Anathema seems to be enough for her. “Listen,” she says to you, “They had every reason to think that it would be okay. The Metatron was after us, remember? He wants us.” You turn your eyes back to the table, wishing that Anathema hadn’t moved your drink away. You could really use something to hold on to right now.

“Right,” Aziraphale begins in a take-charge kind of way, “Tell him that there’s a summoning circle on the floor in my bookshop--”

“-- He tried that already. He says he just got voicemail, and...uh...dial-up.” You’re not looking but you can feel Anathema’s expression without seeing it. Who in the universe still uses dial-up??

“Oh,” Aziraphale sounds deflated.

“Maybe they just popped out to the shop?” Crowley suggests. The question sounds ridiculous and even sarcastic, but what he means is maybe they’re okay and not actually in any trouble at all, and maybe they’ll come back safe and sound and everyone will have a good laugh about it later.

“I mean, it’s possible,” Anathema answers, apparently also understanding what Crowley meant, “But honestly, I don’t think it’s likely.”

“Well regardless,” says Aziraphale, “I highly doubt the Metatron would do anything to harm Muriel. Heaven doesn’t work that way, least of all him.”

“No,” agrees Crowley, “They usually outsource that sort of thing to Hell. Might be able to twist an arm and find out if they...ah...mmm…know anything.” You haven’t looked up yet, but you’re pretty sure Crowley noticed that you haven’t said anything halfway through that suggestion.

Muriel is missing. Your friend. Your wholesome, lovely friend, who came to earth dressed like a lighthouse and who you persuaded to adopt argyle. Your friend who spun around to music with you even though they don’t dance. Your friend who watched the first time you had to calm yourself down from a panic attack and gave you a button to help you with the next one. It’s still in your pocket, you remember. You pull it out and stare at it in your palm. A good large-but-not-too-large plain green button. A good thing to fiddle with whenever you’re anxious. Suddenly you feel tears around your eyes, and maybe it’s the alcohol, but you can’t exactly fight them back. The most you can do is keep yourself from sobbing with worry. Everyone else is still discussing what to do.

“Listen,” Anathema is saying, “I know it’s hard, but we can’t stop saving the world to go back and look for them. The Metatron could be using Muriel as bait for all we know, and we’d be playing right into his hands.”

“Well surely we can’t just leave poor Muriel either,” Aziraphale replies.

“No,” Anathema responds, “I suggested he call Adam. If anyone can help him, Adam can.”

“Do you think” You finally say, “that Muriel knows? That they know we’re coming to find them?”

“I don’t know,” Anathema sighs, “I like to think that they know us well enough to have hope. Wherever they are.”

“Perhaps we could send them a message,” Aziraphale suggests.

“Mmnn,” Crowley seems to agree, “We need to make sure it’s something the Metatron wouldn’t pick up on. Like a secret code or something.”

The three of them start to discuss what kind of message or code you could all send Muriel. Meanwhile, the only thing you find yourself able to do is fidget with the button. The debate has gotten the other three nowhere when a lightbulb goes off. The button.

In dramatic fashion that only Crowley could match, you slam the button on the table. Everyone stops their discussion to watch as you grab the miracle enabler out of your pocket and tear off the number 2 with your teeth. As you spit it to the side, you watch and notice that it stays gone. The miracle went through. Anathema blinks.

“Okay,” she starts, “First of all, I get that you’re upset and that’s perfectly reasonable. But this stuff is important so next time can we please forgo the dramatics and discuss with the group first?”

“Sorry,” You say, even though you’re not.

“What message did you send them?” Crowley asks. In response, you hold up the button.

“You see this? Muriel gave this to me before we left. To help me with my panic attacks. As...as comfort.”

“Okay...” Crowley says. You see Anathema and Aziraphale exchange a look.

“So I sent them an exact copy,” You finish.

“That’s rather clever,” Aziraphale sounds impressed.

“Yeah, not bad.” Anathema agrees. “But next time please tell us first.” You nod in agreement and take a sip of your drink just as Sardis returns with more for everyone else.

Hang tight Muriel, you think to yourself, or Muriel if they can somehow hear you, We’ll find you. We won’t leave you on your own.

********************

Muriel scrivened away at their desk. It was hard to come back to scrivening after having such a lovely time on Earth, but they had been told it was an emergency and that they would be able to come back later once everything had been sorted out. Muriel hadn’t realized that what they’d meant was paperwork. They looked around their office and sighed. Every square foot of it was covered with teetering towers of file folders, leaving no way to see anything else. Not that there was anything else to see ever, it was Heaven after all. They had so much to catch up on.

“How are you doing in here, Muriel?” came a voice from among the towers of folders. Muriel jumped in surprise.

“Oh! Ah, I’m doing alright Metatron,” they answered, “It’s a lot to get through, but I’m starting to make some headway I think!”

“That’s excellent!” The Metatron replied. He wound his way through the stacks until he could see Muriel’s face. He smiled kindly. “I really am so grateful that you were able to return and lend us your help. As you can see, things have gotten a little out of hand in your absence.”

“Yes,” Muriel said, “Of course, Metatron! I didn’t realize that I was leaving everyone with so much. Please pass along my apologies to them.” The Metatron nodded with a thoughtful hum.

“It is the nature of our work, Muriel,” he said, “That we do now know or understand our own importance or place in the workings of things while we are doing them. It is not for us to know, after all! But when someone strays from their role, when they leave for a time and their absence is felt, then we often find out just how vital we are. Not one of us is a ‘nobody,’ we are all incredibly important in the workings of God.”

Muriel nodded. “Yes, Metatron, of course!”

“Ah Muriel,” Metatron said fondly, “You are a most diligent and dedicated soul. Be well assured that the Almighty knows just how grateful we are for you and your continued contributions.”

“Oh! The Almighty?! Really?? Wow! Thank you Metatron!” Muriel sat in awe. They had always thought that they were nobody really. But this whole time they had been so important that even God knew! Muriel looked around at the endless towers of files with new inspiration and purpose. If God knew that they were valuable, then they must do their very best to live up to it! “Don’t worry, Metatron, I’ll get all this sorted out!”

Only…

“I have utmost faith in your abilities, my dear,” Metatron began, “And yet I do sense a small seed of doubt. Is it perhaps something I can help you with?”

Muriel nearly jumped again. Could he read minds? How had he known?

“It’s nothing really,” Muriel said sheepishly, “It’s only...I wish I could have said goodbye. Newt must have been so worried for me to just leave so suddenly. My friends might all be very worried about me.”

“Well why would they be worried?” The Metatron asked jovially, “You’ve come back home! You’re much safer and happier in Heaven than you could be anywhere on Earth.” He looked at Muriel’s unconvinced expression, and relented to a thoughtful smile. “Although I suppose we could send them a message for you. Let them know that you are perfectly alright, and have returned at our request to save us from all of this,” he waved his hands to gesture at the mountains of paperwork. Muriel brightened.

“Oh that would be wonderful! Very kind of you, really Metatron. Thank you ever so much.”

“My pleasure, my dear Muriel,” Metatron cooed, “I shall be back to check on you later, shall I?”

With that, he left and closed the door.

“Ah! Metatron!” Saraquel called to him, speeding over, “Your Grace,” she nodded her head in deference, “Is there anything you would like for the Scriveners to...well...scriven? All of our paperwork has been redirected elsewhere and now I have scores of angels with nothing to do.”

“There is always something to do, Saraquel,” the Metatron smiled kindly, “I have the utmost faith in your abilities to lead. As always.” And he left.

Back inside the office, Muriel was beginning to feel much less...enthused. Now that Metatron was gone, the fatigue of tedious work was returning. There was just so much to do. And to think they had left all the other scriveners with all of this. They felt terrible for that. This was…horrible. This was...just so overwhelming. Muriel took a selfish moment to drop their head into their arms. This felt endless. For a short time, Muriel focused on breathing, before a small clatter made them look up. There was a green button on their desk. Carefully, Muriel poked at it. It was definitely a material object. How strange! They picked it up and examined it for a moment before recognition hit them. Oh! They knew what this was! They had given a button just like this to their new friend! The one that God had sent to help save the world with Aziraphale and Mr. Crowley! A smile of relief spread across Muriel’s face, and despite themselves they hugged the button close like it was the most precious thing in all of Heaven. Thank God. The Metatron had sent them a message, and now they knew everything was alright. For a minute there, Muriel had been worried that he wouldn’t.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

[bird-slayer-brainrot]

Soldier On, Come Down - Chpt. 2. - - Ineffable Husbands WW2 au human!Crowley angel!Aziraphale angst multi-chapter

There was a knock on the door of the bookshop.

Azirphale looked up from his novel, sighing, and rose from his comfortable chair to answer it. Through the small window in the door, Aziraphale spotted a young, bespectacled woman frowning as she raised her fist to rap on the door again. Aziraphale hastily opened it. Aziraphale was about to tell her that the bookshop was not open, and to come again another time, before she pushed the door open, crowding Aziraphale, and marched uninvited into the bookshop.

Aziraphale watched in shock as the young woman crossed her arms.

“What are you?” she said in an American accent. She was looking at Aziraphale with a cross expression on her face and Aziraphale, who had no idea what was happening or why this strange, bossy, brightly dressed American was in his closed bookshop, just stared at her. Azirphale would have laughed if he wasn’t so confused. Out of all the things she had been expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. She was a human.

“I’m sorry.” Aziraphale said in his politest customer-service tone. The young girl looked like she was having none of it. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I can sense it.” She scrunched up her nose, and gestured around the place with her hands. ”You don’t feel human.”

The gravity of the situation finally seemed to set in. It was possible for the girl to have minor psychic capabilities. Possible, and highly, highly inconvenient. “My, dear,” Aziraphale tried to interrupt her. This was not how he had expected his day to go.

“I saw you. You healed my uncle and then you left. I saw the entire thing.”

Aziraphale froze.

“Don’t even think about it.” She stated firmly. Aziraphale, who had been thinking about erasing this whole encounter and the events before (especially that part) from her mind and setting her on her way, immediately stopped considering the possibility of getting out of this easily.

He also, admittedly, was slightly impressed. The human was bold, demanding Aziraphale to pay attention. She stood in her bright red dress, frowning, looking wholly out of place in Aziraphale’s beige and brown bookshop.

“So are you going to explain?”

Aziraphale sighed.

Her name was Anathema Device. Annie, she had insisted, for short. She wanted to know everything. This strange human girl had somehow managed not only to figure out that her uncle’s recovery was… divinely inspired. Not only that, but she had also somehow tracked Aziraphale back to his bookshop, despite the numerous miracles in place that should have made that impossible. Should have.

“It wasn’t easy.” She admitted over a second cup of tea. “I almost had trouble trying to re-locate it again today.”

Aziraphale nodded with understanding. Annie was indeed a human, and a self-proclaimed ‘occultist’. She was definitely a character.

She seemed to understand that the half-explanations Aziraphale offered were all she could reasonably expect to get out of the bookseller. What she really wanted to know was if there would be any lasting effects on her uncle – whose name was Crowley – and seemed pleased to know that he would be fine.

Aziraphale smiled as the young woman shrugged on her coat. By now, he figured erasing her mind would be a pointless endeavour. She waved at him as she exited the bookshop, and Aziraphale’s heart stopped when he saw a flash of red-hair on the pavement outside his bookshop.

*

Anathema watched as the white-haired man crouched down. It was hard to miss it, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

She had been running late to meet Crowley. Her conversation with Newt had drawn out. They had been arguing about the affluence of the Bronte sisters in America, in which Newt had insisted that, in his semester abroad in America (New York), he had heard not one person mention the famous literary sisters. Anathema had argued that Newt likely wasn’t hanging around interesting enough people, which seemed to shut him up about the whole thing.

She had hurried to The Dirty Donkey, which had fortunately not been too far from where she’d met Newt. She hoped Crowley hadn’t been waiting too long for her.

The stranger was crouched over a body. He seemed to flutter his hands suddenly, which Anathema found strange. Then, she felt it.

When he left, walking quickly, quietly down the not-empty street, Anathema hurried over to where the man had been. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw an unconscious Crowley,

*

Aziraphale couldn’t help the need that seized over him to make sure Crowley was alright. He was an angel, and it was his duty to guide and to help humankind. Checking in on the gentlemen from the alley was only polite. His duty, it was his duty.

Aziraphale decided to walk the mile to the bar he knew the human frequented from his conversation with his niece. Turns out, they lived near the bar, and were meant to have dinner the night Crowley was attacked.

As Aziraphale approached the bar, he paused, suddenly embarrassed with what he was doing. In all likelihood, he wasn’t even there and Aziraphale was just being foolish for hoping he’d see him there. 

Aziraphale willed his legs to work, and entered the bar

His long legs crowded below the low and worn bar table. He seemed to be waiting for someone, probably Anathema.

“Hello.” Aziraphale greeted him nervously. He had stopped a foot short of the table, not wanting to intrude just in case suspected person suddenly showed up.

Crowley looked up at the sound of a voice. The glimmer of recognition clear in his eyes.

“It’s you.” He stated. Aziraphale nodded. So much for the checking up on him, he could barely formulate a sentence.

“Please, sit.” Crowley announced. Aziraphale’s eyes widened at him, but the human man gestured to the seat opposite him. Wordlessly, Aziraphale obliged.

He was back to wearing his glasses, and they did well to hiding some of the deep purple bruise Crowley was sporting. He looked, for the most part, unaffected by what had occurred the night before. This was good, excellent. Aziraphale had come here. He had done what he had meant to do.

Crowley was watching him. Aziraphale suddenly wished for the privacy sunglasses would afford him. Crowley made a gesture to the worker, and, after asking what Aziraphale wanted (“Wine. Red.” Aziraphale had finally given in when Crowley insisted he buy his companion a drink.) ordered. When the barmaid left, he turned back to Aziraphale, and spoke.

*

Crowley had woken at midday to what was possibly the worst hangover he had ever had the misfortune to experience.

There was a noise from beside him. Crowley pulled himself up slowly, his arms weak with sleep. Anathema was there in a moment. She was saying something, but his head was pounding relentlessly. A cold glass of water was thrust in his hand. Crowley drank from it.

“Are you feeling better?” she asked softly. Crowley made a sound, and handed her back the empty glass. She was still watching him nervously. He would ask later what happened, but he needed to sleep.

*

Crowley heard the whole strange tale, trying his best not to interrupts. Anathema was almost bouncing with excitement.

But when she had told her uncle in no uncertain terms to expect the blond gentlemen at the bar that evening (her intuition, she told him), he argued. It was ridiculous, all of it. Crowley had known Anathema had a power of sorts, though he did not fully understand the scope of it, and she was desperate to have the answers. Crowley was her unwilling accomplice.

(Though it wasn’t a small part of him that was curious. Besides, it was only good manners to thank the man who had saved your life.)

 So Anathema had insisted on it, and Crowley found himself that evening sitting across from the most intriguing gentlemen he had ever seen.

*

“I was telling Anathema about this book of prophecies I’ve been trying to locate for the best part of fifteen years, and Anathema looks me straight in the eye and tells me she has a copy!”

Crowley snorted out a laugh that was probably too loud, as Aziraphale chuckled at the tale.

They had been sitting at the table for a while, by this point, and were multiple wine bottles deep into their discussion. Crowley had learnt that the man, whose name was Aziraphale, loved books. Crowley admittedly knew little about books, or prophecies, but found himself rapt by Aziraphale’s musings.

He had done this for Anathema, meeting with the gentlemen. But Crowley found himself actually enjoying the conversation, and Aziraphale hardly seemed deterred by Crowley’s stoic manner. It was nice, having a conversation with someone who made it feel like talking to him was the most natural thing in the world. Even if Aziraphale lead the conversation, Crowley hardly wanted to leave the conversation. He couldn’t remember the last time talking was nice.  

“Oh dear, I’ve held you too long.” Aziraphale suddenly exclaimed. It was true. Crowley looked around, just noticing the empty chairs and tables. Aziraphale moved to stand clumsily. Crowley suddenly felt the urge to ask him to stay.

“Thank you, again.” Was what he said instead. Aziraphale looked at him anxiously, and gave him a small smile before hurrying out the door.

It was strange, but Crowley had done his duty and thanked the man. He picked up his hat, and stood up to go.

(Chapter two! I wanted to do more this chapter but the past week has been full with uni kicking in (ahhhhh), my birthday (19, i feel old) and me suddenly getting sick today which has led to me being bedridden. Either way, I'll aim to have chapter three up earlier on Friday next week. Stay hydrated xX)

[greenthena]

Fanfic (weekend) Update...Take Two

Apologies if you followed a link to my new chapter yesterday and it didn't work. Not sure what happened. (Newt was obviously fucking with my laptop.)

“I got wine!” Anathema announced, sliding into the seat next to Aziraphale. She looked overly pleased with herself, sloshing the pink liquid nearly over the side of the fluted glass.  

“You got rosé, Ana,” Crowley smirked.

“It’s not beer and I’m pretty sure it’s not hard alcohol, so…”  

“It’s a lovely choice, dear,” Aziraphale assured her.  

“Don’t encourage her, angel!” Crowley scoffed.  “Next thing you know, she’ll be drinking sherry.”

Aziraphale pushed Crowley’s feet out of his lap.  

“Why do you call him that?” Anathema asked, guzzling the rosé with a gusto that Crowley thought ought to be reserved for somewhat stronger spirits.  

“Call him what?” asked Crowley.  

“Angel.”

Crowley stuttered a few vague consonants before the English teacher interjected, 

“My name, Aziraphale, is the name of an Apocryphal angel,” he explained.  

“Oh,” Anathema pronounced.  “I thought you were…you know?”  She waggled her eyebrows.  

“What?” Crowley goaded.  “Thought we were what?”  

“Flirting?” Anathema suggested.  

Aziraphale choked on his sherry, sputtering like a broken sprinkler head.  Crowley just laughed.  

[greenathena]

Weekend (fanfic) Update

“I got wine!” Anathema announced, sliding into the seat next to Aziraphale. She looked overly pleased with herself, sloshing the pink liquid nearly over the side of the fluted glass.  

“You got rosé, Ana,” Crowley smirked.

“It’s not beer and I’m pretty sure it’s not hard alcohol, so…”  

“It’s a lovely choice, dear,” Aziraphale assured her.  

“Don’t encourage her, angel!” Crowley scoffed.  “Next thing you know, she’ll be drinking sherry.”

Aziraphale pushed Crowley’s feet out of his lap.  

“Why do you call him that?” Anathema asked, guzzling the rosé with a gusto that Crowley thought ought to be reserved for somewhat stronger spirits.  

“Call him what?” asked Crowley.  

“Angel.”

Crowley stuttered a few vague consonants before the English teacher interjected, 

“My name, Aziraphale, is the name of an Apocryphal angel,” he explained.  

“Oh,” Anathema pronounced.  “I thought you were…you know?”  She waggled her eyebrows.  

“What?” Crowley goaded.  “Thought we were what?”  

“Flirting?” Anathema suggested.  

Aziraphale choked on his sherry, sputtering like a broken sprinkler head.  Crowley just laughed.  

[autistic-sidestep]

lying down thinking very hard abt sidestep trying ortega's cooking for the first time, canonically them liking anything ortega makes, that ortega learnt from tia elena that feeding people is the best way to befriend people and that SO many of their fond memories are food-related. (bumped into overdrive with a sugar vice step!) the necessity of needing to eat a lot to maintain their telepathy helps, ofc!

#Sugar—my brain needs the energy.     One drawback of your telepathic powers is that you need a lot of carbohydrates, and sugar is the easiest way to get them. […] the syrupy drinks you were used to back when [you were at the Farm]…

even chen's memory of a happy sidestep involves food

[non(knowssteelsuspects) tacticianstep] [i]So excited about a milkshake. Laughing with Anathema. The almost childish glee with which ${che} delighted in normalcy. In junk food and music. In movies.[/i]

which is why he stocks the fridge for an ally/friendly step

*label steelfridge (steelshelf true) "Raiding the fridge again?" Steel's voice is too soft for being inside the HQ. […] "Yeah, I'm a regular criminal," you joke, not looking back. Your eyes catch that damn shelf again, with your name clearly on it. There are some beers at the back, as well as assorted snacks. All things you've stolen in the past.

this can even be triggered by marcia from the business base

*label businessstart Sometimes, you pretend that this is what ordinary life must be like. Having a job. A daily routine. Surrounded by normal people, thinking unimportant thoughts. It's a nice enough fantasy, easy to indulge in when you sit sharing a meal with Marcia. She's brought a chili today, not as spicy as you're used to, but for a moment, you're having a flashback to another table, to another shared meal. Familiar laughter. A sense of belonging. You shut your eyes hard, and when you open them, it's Marcia's face you see and not Tía Ortega's. "Was it too hot?" Marcia looks concerned, and you realize your eyes have been tearing up. "I'm fine," you lie, hiding your face as you bite down on a piece of bread. "Thanks for sharing." "A meal is meant to be shared," she says, triggering more memories you don't want.

leading onto comforting spaces and memories with elena and ortega, it's definitely true ortega's strongly associated with food - all their meetups tend to revolve around meals

As do snacks. Is that part of what ${he} learned from ${his} mother? Feed people to make them comfortable, and you suppose the alcohol is mostly for ${him}self. (vice = "sugar") $!{he} always lets you steal ${his} snacks.

"Ooh, they have pancakes." "Pancakes." You shake your head. (*if vice = "sugar") Old memories. You used to eat those together.

What else did you have that wouldn't bring back traumatic memories? Clubs without Anathema, karaoke without Sunstream coming to life on the stage? Dinners with Tía Elena?

(retri epilogue, ortega pov)

Food. When in doubt, always go for food. $!{he} learned that trick at a young age, and it has never steered ${him} wrong.

memorial park meetup

[non alcoholic vice step] "You don't have to talk," ${he} assures you. "But what do you say we get a cup of coffee and a bite to eat?" "Coffee…" You almost laugh, because that's how people work, isn't it? When something uncomfortable happens, make sure to eat or drink something. It will make things better.

hoots

Of course ${he}'d pick a spot like this, [if see_shrink] where ${he} knows you would feel safe, especially after what you just went through. [else] the site of many of your escapades. Familiar. Safe.

"You know what Mamá would have said…." $!{he} wags ${his} finger in the air with a serious look on ${his} face. "If it tastes bad, it's good for you." Your voice is a fair approximation of Tía Elena's; you've heard that sentence often enough. For some reason, she had always been very concerned for your health. Intent on not letting you go hungry.

and ofc, the apartment scene

  "I'd like that," you admit. It sounds good; a little privacy is what you need right now. "Been a while since I ate something homemade."     "I think I still remember your favorites," ${he} says with a chuckle. "Wow. It's been ages since we did this."     "Yeah," you look away to hide your smile. "I miss it."     "So do I." For a moment, you think ${he}'s going to say something else, but ${he} doesn't.     "I like your food," you finally admit, a little lower than needed, because you're not sure how ${he} will react.

*if ((wound = "a severely bitten lower lip") or (wound = "a severely bitten lower lip, and a sore shoulder"))   "Are you sure you're going to be okay eating with that lip?" $!{he} touches ${his} own in sympathy.   "I'm not going to starve," you say with a careful smile. "Just don't make it too spicy."   "But I like spice…," ${he} complains.   "Sucks to be you then."   [*if ortega_friendship >= 75] Your smile softens somewhat. "You can always add it last, just to your portion."

"Any requests?" $!{his} voice is light and airy, clearly attempting to strike a lighter mood. "I like everything you make," you say, with a nonchalant shrug. [...]

It feels surprisingly normal sitting in Ortega's kitchen, one leg pulled up on your chair, watching ${him} cook. You helped cut the vegetables, but once the preparations were done, the stove was all [hers/his]. A familiar routine. It used to be what you did back in the day, maybe not every week, but when you had the time. The smell brings back fond memories [...]

"It's been a long time since we did this." Ortega again, breaking the silence that had been building, putting food on your plates. "Yeah," you admit, wishing it didn't smell so good, wishing the smell didn't take you back. […] "Do you like it?" "You're a good cook but such a sucker for compliments," you say, shoving in another mouthful. "I like it." […] You don't know what to feel as you watch ${him} eat, sharing ${his} table, sharing ${his} food. Sharing ${his} home. $!{his} friendship. $!{his} heart.

epilogue (recovering in chen's apartment + dating ortega)

 "Your kitchen really sucks." Not exactly the smartest thing to say, but ${he}'s never been that good with words when ${he}'s stressed. "You know that, right?"   "I know," Wei sighs, with the long-suffering look he has perfected over the years. "And you know it too. You say it every time you cook here."   "$!{he} cooks here?" [...]   "Occasionally." Wei sits down at last, giving Spoon a scratch before the dog pads back to ${name}'s side. "When ${he} feels I've been eating too badly."   "I know your stomach doesn't always agree with food, but occasionally you just need some homemade caldillo." ${ortega_name} turns back to the stove, glad for the opportunity to busy ${his} hands. The closest thing ${he} can get to meditation, that, and the bike. [...] And everything starts with a delicious dinner. Even if ${he} has to be careful with the chili.   $!{he}'s made worse sacrifices.

of course ortega learned it all from tia.

 "Not Ortega?" Steel sounds surprised, which is annoying. Are you that predictable?     "You know Tía Ortega. Dishes get done in that household." You can't help but smile at the memory. Another life. Another world. Did you use to be happy once?

[...]

Once upon a time, [if ortega_former ally] you were a frequent guest at [Elena's] house // [else] you were close. Back when she lived in the city. Invited into her home, at her dinner table. Hugs. Friendly laughter.

[...]

But it would also mean meeting her again. Stepping back into the past, being soft, loved, cared for, and you…you're not the same. Ortega hasn't told her about you for a reason.

i just.... augHHH. food as love.

[silvery-bluish]

12 for ars for the touchy prompt

It’s been Months whoops. Thank you for the ask!!

Contents: Pushing a strand of hair behind their ear, Arsinoe & Themmy. Stepdays.

Wordcount: 499

Warnings: None!

12. Pushing a strand of hair behind their ear

Door one is easy enough, slip your gloves off and into your pockets to pick the lock more easily. The second is— less so. Mostly because there isn’t actually a keyhole on the side of the door you’re on. Deadbolt on the other side, maybe.

“Your turn,” you say, making a little gesture for Themmy to go ahead, because while lockpicks are more subtle, acid’s useful in a pinch.

They grin at you, rubbing their hands together briefly. Yellow daffodils on their nails that are about to vanish rather abruptly. “Gonna make me do the hard work, huh?”

“I’d unscrew the damn thing if I could reach the hinges,” you say, little head tilt as you consider the doorframe. They laugh, pressing their hands against the seam between door and doorframe. The acrid sizzle of acid on metal.

You fuss with your lockpicks, tucking them back into their pocket against your ribs. Slim zipper hidden by teal piping.

“I’ve got my damn hair in my eyes again,” Anathema gripes, hands still planted on approximately where the hinges are. “I always forget to bring a spare hair tie.”

You’re quiet a moment, watching the metal sizzle and listening to them continue to grumble about it under their breath. Fidget with your pockets, circle of elastic ending up around your wrist. “Do you want help?” you ask, and their eyes flick over to you, half-obscured by red curls fallen into their face.

You pluck the elastic around your wrist in emphasis, and their eyes soften, smile curling the edges of what used to be an annoyed expression. Good. Their face is shaped for smiling, not scowling. You always felt like it suited them better.

“Sure, Arsenic. Ponytail me.” A little laugh, as they tilt their head towards you. “Doesn’t need to be a nice one.”

You smile back at them, not that they can tell through your mask. Quick slide of your hand to tuck hair behind one of their ears, temporary stopgap before you circle around to behind them.

Once you’re out of sight, they ask, “Are you carrying around hair ties for me?” It’s half-tease half-touched, like they already know the answer without you saying anything.

“They’re useful for other things,” you defend, and then, “You always forget.” Carefully pull their hair together at the nape of their neck, trying not to yank on it or tickle them.

Your nails catch on their hair, a little, chipped polish, but they don’t complain about it. Bundled together bright red curls, remnants of bright colored hair chalk clinging to the strands. Getting on your hands, too, but that’s alright. Loop the hair tie once, twice, a careful third time to hold it in place.

“Thanks,” Themmy says, when you’ve finished and pulled your hands away. You haven’t stepped away yet, so they bump you gently with their shoulder. Your mask is still down, so they can’t see it, but you’re still smiling at them.

You’re pretty sure they can tell anyway.

[ikamigami]

The new episode really hit it home for me that Moon is doing a lot better as a brother for Sun(adored the July 16th video those were great), but that he might not clock just how in the gutter Sun's mental state actually is The first was him making the falling joke, notice how Sun immediately rushed in thinking Moon was in physical danger and was completely unamused by the "joke" and Moon doesn't realize why he'd be so unamused The second was Sun asking to automate cleaning because depression, and Moon joking that he's Dark Sun, Moon notices that there's something off about Sun not wanting to clean, that's anathema to his previous understanding Sun, I do hope they talk about it as Moon said This isn't to say I blame Moon, he's doing so much better than he used to be and that is incredible, but I also get why Sun is like this based on the stuff others here were saying, because even if Moon's trying hard to be better, Sun's having a hard time with it, because he's been through this once already, Nexus had done the same thing, all those promises and saying he'll be better, imploring Sun to trust him after all the abuse, and actually doing it! It was to the point that I'd argue Sun was just as close with Nexus under less time as Sun was with Old Moon, without the abuse. But then Nexus, not even after Solar's death but from Sun's perspective not long after his breakdown, seemingly flipped a switch and ripped it all away and spiraled so hard and so fast into full villainy that it caught everyone off-guard, it's like the old saying goes, "once bitten, twice shy", plus with how many times everybody's been threatened, hurt, killed, or almost killed, it makes a lot of sense that Sun's first instinct when hearing someone yell or scream is to think they're being attacked and rush to help, and not find it funny when they were just doing it for a laugh, and the guy is very depressed considering OCD cleaning is an instinctual part of his code and he wants nothing to do with it now, again not blaming any of the characters or anything, it's just character analysis, Moon is doing better and Sun is slowly learning to trust again, which is good to see Also seeing a Good Creator and retroactively reflecting on how much better everyone's lives could've been hurts, I don't even think Good Creator's Moon had a kill code, or would have one, though Eclipse and Lunar do exist in that world but who knows, either way no wonder our Sun and Moon might be jealous and want to cry about it

You're absolutely right, dear anon.

I only add some things..

Sun have not only depression - depressive episode but he also has psychosis - we can tell that from BM's hallucination and Sun's agitated state and mood swings..

After all he has depressive psychosis and currently he has psychotic episode - or in this disorder he has depressive and psychotic episode at the same time..

Sun is more irritated like we could see when he said "I'll break something one of this days" - which reminded me of goodolddumbbanana's theory that maybe Nexus will force Sun to kill Dazzle but because Dazzle can't die he'll just break her body (hmmm maybe actually goodolddumbbanana writes sams/j) - he's also more annoyed with things..

Yes, Sun not wanting to clean as much as he used to is a clear sign that he's depressed and I hope that Moon will take it seriously despite jokes and he'll talk with Sun or at least try or he'll talk with someone and ask for an advice..

Sun is clearly more depressed than before - when he had his first major psychotic episode - and what's more worrying is that he isn't aware of his mental state.. I mean he doesn't know he's depressed or it clearly doesn't seem so.. and even more so he isn't aware of having a mental disorder and that this is what causes him hallucinations..

I think that VAs did good job with showing us Sun moving on from July 16th because it'll better show viewers and also Sun and other characters later that even when he's moving past his trauma.. this trauma changed him so much and possibly forever and he's now suffering from mental disorder and a pretty serious one at that (due to dealing with suicidal thoughts and ideations and suicide attempts more often which also often end up with completed suicide - it's because patient during their depressive episodes experience psychotic episode at the same time and this agitated state and delusions is what often leads to suicide complation though I'm not saying that VAs will make Sun kill himself)

When I was obsessing over Sun being suicidal during my psychotic episode.. it was frustrating to say the least to see that people think that even having suicidal thoughts or ideations is not a big deal.. as if only being actively suicidal was somewhat more concerning.. and even if active suicidality is very dangerous and person being actively suicidal needs to be supervised.. it doesn't mean that others signs of being even passively suicidal when you suffer from depressive psychosis (or any other disorder or in general actually) means that you're not in danger..

I hate when people just downplay things like that.. and think that one group of people has worse than others..

I think that it was really so frustrating to me because people just don't know how it's like to live with depressive psychosis and having guilt delusions or delusions centered around unworthiness.. it's terribly awful mix.. and I wouldn't even wish that upon even the most evil people that exist..

Hope you don't mind my rant, dear anon 😅

Though I think that Sun will spiral one day and hopefully he won't kill anyone.. cause guilt will eat him alive this time..

I also don't want to kill himself.. but maybe he'll harn himself.. cause he'll break something one of this days.. and he snapped just like he said and killed Bloodmoon.. so who knows.. but these are my thoughts about that..

Also yeah Sun doesn't trust Moon fully yet.. but he loves him and cares about hence why he gave him another chance.. and yeah he's more alerted when someone screams in pain or in fear due to trauma and everything that happened.. all these deaths..

[dastardly-imbecile]

Warmth

Wrote this for a friend, do not know a single iota of anything Hannibal-related, which is probably abundantly clear.

The chair is made of plush red velvet; so dark that it’s nearly black. Soft under you in the way that you know you could fall asleep if given ten minutes. 

Around you, the house is dark and silent. All but for the crackling of the fireplace - such a cliche term, but cozy nonetheless. Too dark to read a physical book, but you don’t particularly feel like pulling out something electronic. It would ruin the illusion that you’ve so carefully crafted in this atmosphere - the idea that you’re in some fantasy world, relaxing in your mountainside chalet, nothing more than the fire and the chair and the dark, dark walls. 

“Y/N?”

Well, something had to break the immersion eventually. Not that you’re really mad about that - not when it’s Hannibal. You can practically feel his approach behind you, feel it past the sound of his footsteps and the scent of the tea he’s carrying. It’s the feeling you’ve always had, ever since seeing him for the first time all that time ago - an internal fire; a warmth that starts in your chest and spreads. 

Different from the external warmth of the fire. Strange to think about, to attempt to articulate to anyone - but you don’t really need to. All you need is to feel it yourself. 

His presence moves around the chair to stand beside you. He’s tall, somewhere in the realm of the upper-fives lower-sixes. Enough to tower over you sitting here. “Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine.” 

He pats the armrest next to you. “May I?”

You nod. There’s the sound of shifting above, and he settled next to you. Perched delicately - an anathema to that looming height, he wields it like a dancer would. Makes you wonder where he learned. It lends to the quiet sound of his footfalls and the languid, easy way he moves. Not a care in the world - a skill you sometimes wish you could learn. 

Simply having him is enough for now. 

Just now.

He passes the cup and saucer down. Warmth, it’s what you’re surrounded by, the fire and his body and the cup, and it’s spreading inside of you, down past your stomach and up into your head. More as you take a sip - it’s pleasant enough to loosen your muscles. 

You shift to lean against him. He accepts it without comment, and your head lays just under his elbow. 

“Bad day?” He asks. You’re a veterinarian, and that’s part of what drew him to you in the first place - said he admired anyone who would try and help animals. It’s hard sometimes to put them down or to see the ones that have been mistreated. Not today, though. 

“Tired.”

At that, you yawn, and he laughs - softly, but you can still feel it jostle your head. Not an entirely unpleasant sensation when it comes from the person you love. 

His arm settles around your shoulders. “We should get you to bed then, shouldn’t we?”

Probably. You can’t quite get your arms to move, however. He divines that - as he always does, somehow - and stands. “Or do you need an incentive first?”

“Maybe.” You take another drink; he moves around behind you.

Strong hands settle on your shoulders. At the moment, there’s a layer of fabric separating skin from skin, but the phantom memory of that sensation still shivers through you. Yes, this is definitely doing wonders for your wakefulness. 

They start to knead - moving across your shoulders, gentle at first, but pressing deeper with every second. It sends your muscles tensing for a brief moment before they surrender to the feeling of being worked, molded into nothing but the feeling of release. 

“Better?” He asks. 

There’s nothing you can do but nod mutely. It’s as much as any words could’ve said.

It has to end, as all things do, but at least you’re comforted by the fact that there will be as many massages as you’d ever want. He helps you up from your chair, hand on your back. The touch of it sends residual tingles rushing through you. He can probably feel them. 

He walks with you until you enter your bedroom - lights dimmed to suit the rest of the house, bed made and ready for sleep. 

“I’ll turn the fire out,” He murmurs, voice soft and dark as the velvet chair. “Sleep, Darling.”

You do. 

[kirby-the-gorb]

reply roundup!

had to put these on hold for a while for personal reasons </3 they're likely to still be infrequent, but in honor of kirb2k!

(my notes would only load back to mid september so I missed a couple weeks sorry :c but be warned that this is a long one! it's 3 entire months' worth!)

also, reminder that kirb2k ends tomorrow!!! preorders, commissions, and auctions will all close at noon pst on sunday december 17th! everything is linked in the pinned post or filed under the tag kirb2k!

first is one more birthday kirb from my friend @sleepy-sheep-wizard:

Realized halfway thru that I don’t know what Kirby looks like off the top of my head, so I got funky with it. Happy birthday, thank you for being a good friend

thank you again friend <3 getting funky with it is truly in the spirit of just drawing a little guy for fun, I love his little hat in particular.

on [mirror] @shapeshifterwithafez said: uuuh is Scherben bringen Glück/ Shards bring luck a universal saying? sounfs clinky as a direct translation. anyways in germany we say that shards of stuff you broke brings luck so I hope the luck finds you or smth sorry for rambling ^^

I'd never heard this saying before, but I think it's very sweet! thank you for sharing it with me :)

on [pipefight] @hauntedppgpaints said: goalies with a skate blade and their stick in hand

big hockey vibes for real yeah lol

on [pink] @gaydiation-poisoning said: ...I wanna eat that pink

honestly same, it's sooo pleasing

on [rain] @hive-heart said: Everything alright, daily kirby guy?

not really but sitting by the window in the rain is a good thing lol thanks for asking <3

(also the person who tagged that same post myhouse.wad made me laugh)

on [photo] @ceylonsilvergirl [added] a picture of their cat and said: get adored idiot!! see the hate in her eyes? I’ll make her love me yet!!

me @ my partner's cat

@violet-dragongirl said: oh! I have been meaning to ask! Have you played Kirby and The Forgotten Lands? I assume you did but just wanted to say that I did about a week ago and I loved it and thought of your art! ^.^ And if you haven't, yes, Carby is super adorable and amazing :3

I have! I got it very shortly after it came out, I had a really good time with it. I've been slowly replaying it recently with my partner, they were kind of fond of kirby just by proxy but since we started playing they adore bandee now and say he never gets enough screen time XD I'm glad you also had fun!

on [mice] @ceylonsilvergirl said: girls like swarms of things, right?

idk bro my wife wasn't so big on it when I got a gig housing 30 mice, but maybe she's weird. I liked them. (sadly one of the best paying jobs I've ever had up until the owner lost it and abandoned them with me, yes I still took care of them for the rest of their little lives) (and yes I also got my wife's okay before I took them on in the first place)

on [covid] @mordantivore said: reading posts from when the era of covid safety was declared anathema and ended is haunting. we were so desperate to find ppl willing to help us stay alive. there are fewer of us now bc “allies” are worthless & more of us have died

yeah. fuck. I'm lucky that the people in closest proximity to me are at least moderately careful, but me and my wife and partner are usually the only ones wearing masks anywhere we go except sometimes the employees and I know they don't always wear them when they're out without me.

on [swim] @northeasternwind said: Jdjdjfkg imagining Kirby being way more bouyant than your average human so them gotta exhale REAL HARD or attach nega-floaties (sinkies?) like weights to dive

lol yeah they probably gotta try So Hard to actually get under the water. (I think diving weights/ballast is a thing that humans use too? I've never gone diving, having my face underwater stresses me out -n- )

on [float] @nickiemoot said: he has to go now. his planet needs him. *slide whistle*

I can only hear this as that one similar part from one of the asdfmovies, it delights me

@vampiricarus said: if you see this just know i love your art so much

aww thank you! <3

anonymous said: just wanted to say I love Kirby and I love your art! I’m always excited to see it on my dash. thank you for bringing a little joy to my life :) I need it once in a while like I’m sure a lot of others do too! Keep up the good work :))

thank you! drawing a little guy brings me a little joy too, I'm glad it can do the same for others <3

on [drain] @ceylonsilvergirl said: I’m sorry you’re having a rough time. Existing is hard work sometimes. A lot of the time

fuck dude it sure is <3 especially when my body keeps trying to shut down lol

on [mud] @why-are-all-the-fun-urls-taken said: Hey man are u doing ok

I am not, thanks for asking <3

on [tummyache] @hobgirl said: :o kirby the gorb why would you do that!!!!! why!!!!!

I didn't want it to go to waste!!! everyone is dumb sometimes!!!

on [wizard] @eau-the-agony said: not enough appreciation in the wizarding world for garlic salt spell. its all kung pow penis tgis and ketamine ape that. not enough of the small joys which carry us through the horrors like a dinky garbage raft

you are so right. the small joys are the most powerful of all.

on [wizard] @beepbeepdespair said: somehow didnt know garlic salt was a thing until this moment. now i really want some. i think i just found a kg of it online for 12 quid??

I am so pleased that you now have the knowledge of Garlic Salt Spell, I hope you got to try it out for yourself :D

on [zelda] @chaos-squared said: Good job!! I’ve had it for longer yet still haven’t completed it ;w;

nothing wrong with that! I only finished it as quickly and thoroughly as I did because I was basically bedridden for all of october, as long as you enjoy the time you do spend with a game it doesn't really matter how much time you spend or how far you get.

on [brave] @gudetamalover said: me tomorrow afternoon when I get all four wisdom teeth out

I'd already had several other oral surgeries on account of Weird Teeth before I got my wisdom teeth out but it still knocked me on my ass for a couple days, I hope your recovery went as smooth as possible! (altho that was also like. 15 years ago. and general anesthesia has gotten a lot better since then.)

on [shiny] @angst-and-fajitas said: Like to slap his bald head reblog to slap his bald head

bald! bald! bald! bald!

on [powerwash] @chronicdilf said: decemberb 16 im goign to walk across the damn stage get my damn diploma folder im going to go home and POWERWASHER SIMULATOR JUST LIKE KIRBY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

yeah!!! you're gonna do it!!! you might be doing it right now even!!!

on [cooked] @hobgirl said: oh mood kirby..... struggling with the very last paper i need to write before i can graduate and its got me feeling this way fr

ough, I hope you made it through your paper! lots of people graduating tho that's so cool, congrats to both of you!

on [bears] @jupiterlandings said: I get so happy every time I see Cake and the name Cake being tagged :)

it's such a good name for a bear, I'm grateful you thought of it!! especially given the best I could do for the other one was "kirbear" lol

@violet-dragongirl said: omg seeing that Fav Grobs Post you recently put up makes me so happy! over a thousand (and then some!) GORBS?! :D I'm not only impressed but so proud ya made it this far and I'm so glad you got possibly more to go of Kirby!! :D!! Really great job 🥰🥰

thank you! I'm gonna hit 2000 days of drawing kirby tomorrow, that's so wild!

on [popular] @timeturner-jay said: Op your Kirby art brings so much utter joy you have no idea <3

yay I'm glad <3 I love to draw a little guy, it's good I'm not the only one having fun lol

I got a lot of "good blaze op" on the [macarena], and you're all correct, thank you for recognizing my great decision making B) (I'd been meaning to add the music and blaze it from basically the moment I drew it, I've just been really sick so it took a while.)

(also even if I don't always gather them in the roundup there are names I recognize showing up repeatedly in the tags, some of whom have been here for years, and I'm always glad to see you're still around!)

[mobius-m-mobius]

Fave shows tag game

Rules: List 5 favourite shows (in no particular order) and answer questions accordingly.

Life on Mars

Good Omens

Mad Dogs

Loki

Psych

@loki-is-my-kink-awakening Thank you so much for the tag lovely!! Putting my answers to the questions behind the cut 😊

1. Who is your favourite character in 2?

Oh no not this😅 Don't wanna start off totally indecisive but In all honesty Aziraphale and Crowley are such a package deal I've never been able to decide who I liked more so both it is!

2. Who is your least favourite character in 1?

Probably Frank Morgan since he's meant to give everyone the creeps and totally untrustworthy but if we're talking main cast then Ray because everyone else is just too good ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

3. What's your favourite episode of 4?

Episode two THE beloved my one and only 🥺💖 12/10 would gladly watch Owen and Tom sit around chatting and mirroring the cafeteria vibes either as Lokius or themselves for the rest of my days

4. What is your favourite season of 5?

Gotta be S2!! All the earlier seasons are gold so was very tempted by the latter half of S3 but S2's like a tour de force

5. What's your favourite relationship in 3?

Baxter and Quinn would an obvious one since John and Phil are married in every role and this is no exception but the dynamic between Baxter and Rick is so weirdly fascinating?? They just clash so instantly, usually to great disaster but will never stop themselves or learn from their mistakes, absolutely obsessed tbh

6. Who is your anti relationship in 2?

I don't really have one?? If pressed I wasn't interested in Anathema and Newt being shoved together for no real reason or the implication of ending up with someone because you're told but I don't have any active dislike for them or their pairing

7. How long have you watched 1?

Well I was pretty late to pick the show up and watched for the first time around three years ago, have since rewatched the entire series at least 5 times in full, and various clips more times than I could ever count lol

8. How did you become interested in 3?

Thank my url namesake, lol. Truly the most stunning TV experience start to finish I've had with a flawless all star cast and just criminally underrated show in general!!

9. Who is your favourite actor in 4?

🤣🤣 Feel as if I've walked right into this one and y'all don't even need to hear the answer but that would be Owen Wilson, whose take on Mobius has honestly been life changing for me 💖

10. Which show do you prefer 1, 2 or 5?

Oh man as much as I adore Psych I'm stuck between Life on Mars and Good Omens on this one... Oh this is the worst, okay, I'm going... Life on Mars! When taking the point of how much I love both main pairs out of the picture there are more elements of and characters in LoM I think I enjoy more

11. Which show have you seen more episodes of 1 or 3?

I've watched both fully through multiple times but Life on Mars just edges by with having more episodes so that'll be the one!

12. If you could be anyone from 4, who would you be?

Loki or Ravonna just for sheer proximity of how much time would be spent around Mobius lmao, literally my only primary consideration

13. How would you kill off your favourite character in 5?

Laughing so hard at this because ironically my favorite character in Psych has pondered many scenarios potentially resulting in his own death lmao. If necessary he'd probably prefer a blaze of glory gunfight but I don't think he'd mind being taken out by his favorite land mine going off?? "Sweet music. And then…nothin' but red mist." 😂

14. Would a 3/4 crossover work?

Not necessarily unless you mean would it work in terms of turning me on in ways I've yet to experience in this life because yes, yes, and YES 😳😳

15. Pair two characters in 1 that would make an unlikely, but strangely okay couple.

Idk if it would be the most unlikely but Sam and Chris would've been cute and I always enjoyed how earnestly Chris ended up admiring Sam's approach to the work and who he is as a person

16. Overall, which show has the better cast, 3 or 5?

I mean Mad Dogs is my favorite show of all time in part because of how talented the cast is in balancing their roles and I can't see that changing plus I'd follow those guys anywhere

Tagging @faylights, @too-funky, @safedistancefrombeingsmart, @symphony-in-silver, @colourfulwatson, @bebx, @linz33y, @michaelsheens, @veraynes-blog, @aleerax, @abitofboth, @eyeldritch, @lovingvincent, @seekers-who-are-lovers, @z-aliada, and @alternatively-undesignated as always only if y'all feel like it plus anyone else who wants to join! 💕

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 18!!!!!!

I haven't been able to write for a week and it made me all squirrely.

Alright so the vote was for a weird roadside attraction, and I got THE MOST AMAZING recommendation. Just as a reminder, I do take requests for this fic :) This particular attraction was suggested to me by @hummingbee-lievable and I mean, I just couldn't say no. You'll understand why when we get there.

Here are some links to the music mentioned, in case you haven't ever heard it and want to :)

Vivaldi's Four Seasons

Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture

Let's do this.

Beginning || Previous || Next

*************************************

Approximately 8 hours.

That’s how long you’d been driving for.

Aside from a couple bathroom breaks, and a quick trip through a fast food drive through (Aziraphale complained until you managed to persuade him to try french fries and a chocolate shake – suddenly he became positively fascinated, much less whiny, and much more fun to be stuck in a car with), the five of you have basically been on the road non-stop. You’ve all run out of things to talk about, the playlist has been shuffled and reshuffled often enough that you’re becoming able to tell the difference between the different concertos and symphonies that Aziraphale added. The SUV, roomy as it is, is becoming stuffy, and frankly you’re starting to feel sore in places that are going to make the next 20 hours of this...difficult to say the least.

“Okay,” You say, breaking the silence, “Honestly, I get that we’re on a bit of a time crunch, but if we don’t stop for a real break soon, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“What,” snorts Crowley from the driver’s seat, “You mean you’ve had it this whole time? I am shocked.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and lean over into Sardis’ space to make sure Crowley can see it in the rearview mirror.

“Now, now,” Aziraphale says soothingly – he doesn’t fool you, you can see him smirking, “I’m very certain we can find a suitable place to rest for an hour. Some fresh air would probably do us all some good.”

Oh, so he’s getting restless too. Good to know you have Aziraphale on your side with this one. Sardis is already tapping around on his phone, and you glance over to see him googling the area. Thank someone. Anathema has her nose in a book, but gives a thumbs up to show that she agrees with the idea. So it’s basically unanimous. Sardis very quietly taps you and discreetly shows you his phone screen. You look over, figuring he must have found something and….oh.

OH BOY DID HE EVER.

It takes actual work to play it cool. If you don’t do this very carefully, you won’t get to see this glory in person. You nod at Sardis, who winks in return. The plan is set.

“I’ve found an art museum nearby,” he says. You can see Aziraphale’s face light up.

“Oh! That sounds lovely! Perhaps they have a cafe!”

“And maybe a gift shop!” You add hopefully. Best to sell this hard.

Crowley sighs. “Yeah fine, whatever. Just give me directions, would you?”

“Sure thing,” Sardis replies.

To cover your bases, you take you phone, and turn on Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. Aziraphale, utterly delighted by the turn of events, begins humming and conducting the non-existent orchestra. He loses himself to the music relatively quickly. Between that, Anathema in her book, and Sardis feeding Crowley directions one at a time, you’re off to the races.

As you get closer, you start to see signs advertising it. Crowley snorts once or twice, but doesn’t seem any the wiser as Sardis directs him. It isn’t until you pull into The Truck Yard that you can see his eyebrow raising in the mirror. And it isn’t until Sardis instructs him to park in front of the building that it seems to click. Aziraphale doesn’t notice until you turn off the music.

“We’re here!” You sing triumphantly.

“Are you serious?” Crowley asks.

“Oh most definitely,” You reply. Then the demon starts to laugh, and kicks open the door with a snort.

“Right, okay, come on then!”

Aziraphale hasn’t moved.

“Perhaps I’ll stay here,” he says.

“NOPE!” Crowley calls, crouching to look at Aziraphale through the driver’s door, “You wanted an art museum, angel, you’ve got one!”

Aziraphale groans and gets out of the car. He leans heavily upon the door as he closes it. “Yes,” he said, “But I hardly think this counts as art!”

“Think of it as modern art, angel!”

“...All the more reason for me to stick to the traditional sort.”

“As long as it doesn’t stick to the bottom of your shoe, am I right?” You say, because you just have to join in. Sardis laughs and Crowley snorts, and the three of you lead the way into Barney Smith’s Toilet Seat Art Museum. Aziraphale and Anathema follow behind, pretending not to know you. You spin around and walk backwards so that you can watch the two of them as they approach the door of the building, which features Roman-style pillars built out of toilets. Aziraphale glances at them with a sigh, but Anathema raises and eyebrow and goes in for a closer look.

“Huh,” she says, clearly impressed, “Actually, that’s really clever.”

“Ugh,” says Aziraphale, clearly unimpressed, “Vulgar is what it is.”

You enter the building, and find floor-to-ceiling toilet seats. They cover every inch of wall, an absolute punch to the eyes, and yes, it is beautiful. It is glorious. You let out a low whistle.

“Look at you,” You recite, because any opportunity to quote the show is one that should be taken, “You’re gorgeous.” You notice both Aziraphale and Crowley glance in your direction briefly, but you don’t elaborate, so they both look away while you take the opportunity to notice the tiniest of blushes between them. Ha. Softies, the both of them.

“It really is,” Sardis replies, oblivious, “I’d call it downright glorious.”

You look up, and then run back over to nudge Aziraphale. “Hey, Aziraphale, look at that!” You point upwards. “There’s some more traditional art for you!”

He follows your gaze, but is, as you predicted, still disgruntled. “Is that...Michelangelo??” Painted upon the high ceiling is a recreation of Michelangelo’s painting The Creation of Adam. However, this particular adaptation features a closeup of the hands – with God handing Adam a roll of toilet paper.

You hear Crowley snort. He comes over to you and Aziraphale just so he can say to you “Most useful she’s ever been, eh?”

“CROWLEY!” Aziraphale exclaims in disgust.

“Demon,” he replies with a smirk, and saunters away. With a giggle, you follow him to where Sardis is standing.

“Hey, Witch!” Sardis calls, “Here’s one for you! It’s all about Astrology!” He looks over his shoulder, and you follow his gaze to where Anathema has started looking at the seats with curiosity.

“I’ll be there in a minute!” she responds. You see her lean in for a closer inspection of the piece in front of her.

“You are really good at this road trip stuff,” You say as you turn back to Sardis. “Did you spend a lot of time on the road with your siblings?”

“Nah, but there were a few dinners where someone had to calm things down.”

“I can imagine.” You go quiet for a while before something occurs to you. “You know, you barely know us, and you’re a lot more...open about things that I would expect, well, anyone really, to be.”

Sardis shrugs. “Well who am I going to share with? Philly was the only one I still talked to.”

You think about your first impressions of Sardis. Someone who likes to play games, someone who takes things half-seriously, but would probably monologue if you let him. Oh. He’s lonely.

“I want to trust you Sardis,” You say after a minute, “I just...I’ve been disappointed by enough people in the past that I’m still trying to decide if I can.”

He nods. “No hard feelings, Moth. Trust is a hard thing, and it takes time. So by all means take yours. Just do me a favour and put up with me in the meantime, eh? I haven’t met many humans willing to trick both an angel and a demon into visiting a toilet seat art museum with me.” He winks at you, and you can’t help but smile back.

“Oi!” Crowley announces, “Angel! Come look! This one’ll perk you up! It’s got sheet music on it*! Get it?? SHEET MUSIC!”

You and Sardis both burst out laughing, and you wander over to see this masterpiece. Anathema is coming too, and she’s also giggling even though you can tell she’s trying not to. Even Aziraphale has cracked a smile despite himself.

“Really, Crowley,” he says with a shake of his head. The angel sighs. “Right, let’s see then.” Aziraphale pulls his tiny glasses out of his pocket and puts them on his nose. Then he leans in to inspect the classical music that has been collaged onto the toilet seat, plastered beneath the title “Cannon Ball.” He hums to himself as he inspects the notes, and after a moment he starts to conduct to himself. Sardis has come and joined in, so now the full group is watching Aziraphale in anticipation – waiting for his verdict. After a minute or two, Aziraphale leans back, takes the glasses off, and polishes them with a cloth from his pocket. “It appears to be an excerpt from Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. Specifically the bridge, which is famously known for including cannons as a musical instrument.” He glances up at you all sideways, the tiniest of Michael-Sheenian smirks upon his lips. “It is indeed, sheet music.”

No one is able to contain their laughter, not even Aziraphale.

By the time all of you head back to the car, everyone is in much better spirits. Aziraphale admits that it was a good idea to stop here after all, even if it still isn’t his idea of art. Overall, the car feels much lighter and happier than it had a few hours ago, so you bask in it. Even after the toilet jokes fade away, the mood stays. For the first time since New York, things feel light and the challenges ahead of you feel manageable.

Sometimes you just gotta stop and smell the toilet seat.

And no, I will not apologize for that line.

* My Dear Reader, I need to pull you away for a minute to quickly tell you that I have never been to this incredible museum, so I have no idea if this particular piece actually exists. But I had to, you understand. I just HAD to.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

[aziraphales-library]

hello lovely mods!! this blog is amazing, i really appreciate how hard you work. do you know any fics where crowley is just really possessive/protective over aziraphale?

Hi! We have looooads of fics already recommended on our #protective crowley tag so make sure to check those out. Here are some where Crowley is more possessive...

Oh, not again by HolyCatsAndRabbits (G)

"Now, why ever would you insinuate that I might possibly do something about the fact that there is a man hitting on my husband?"

Know Your Worth by MyFirstAndLastVow09 (NR)

Crowley spends his days with his angel, helping him (or mostly lounging) Aziraphale in the bookstore, having lunches, dinners, etc., with him. In general, life after the Notpocalypse was going, in Aziraphale’s words, tickety-boo.

Until, a certain archangel decided to make a appearance.

In Crowley’s opinion, fuck that guy.

Long Live the King by StarlightPhoenix (M)

During the stand-off against Satan, Adam had done something. Satan never returned, and Hell had no King.

Beelzebub had no choice but to go to Crowley, Serpent of Eden, and offer him the Throne.

Crowley had no choice but to accept, knowing it would keep him and Aziraphale safe.

All hail the Serpent of Eden.

Surpassing All the Stars by KannaOphelia (M)

There was a faint tracing of scales along the woman's cheekbones, tracing down her thin arms and lean thighs. The nipples on her pale, almost flat breasts were dark as night. Fiery red curls fell over dagger-sharp shoulders sprayed gently with more black scales, and the golden eyes were wide and snake-like. The woman was beautiful, but hardly human.

"Crawly," the woman said with disgust. "Was that the best you could do, angel?"

"I said I didn't have much imagination." Aziraphale's lips were heavy, and she was almost sure she wasn't forming the words properly. There was some kind of spell over her, holding her almost immobile. The venom must have been paralytic. If she had been human, she supposed she would have been dead. Her corporation didn't like it much either. "What name would you prefer I use for you?"

The stranger tipped her head on one side, considering. "Crowley?"

Aziraphale almost laughed. The whole situation was simply too irritating. If she was to die now, at the hands of some local deity, the paperwork hardly bore thinking about. And her precious work on Sappho's poetry, gone.

"Crowley, then. You're a nymph of some kind, I take it?"

Dark Water I: Dark Story by UnproblematicMe (M)

Anthony J. Crowley lives the careless life of a rich man’s son. A jack of all trades, he has tried his hand in many jobs, but nothing could hold his interest for a long time. So it’s not unusual for him to take a new job because of a cute blonde guy who needs his help.

Aziraphale Fell runs a Youtube Channel with his friends Anathema and Newt. When they need a new camera man, he accepts the offer of a handsome skeptic he meets at a party. Specialised in ghost hunting, Aziraphale has seen his fair share of strangeness. But things are about to get much stranger.

Waking Up Married by Caedmon (E)

"So you’re telling me that my options are either to convince this man I just met and drunkenly married to stay married to me for six months or lose two thirds of a billion pounds?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Fergus said.

“Fucking shit,” Crowley spat.

He hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment before rubbing his eyes with his fists. Now his job would be twice as hard. He needed to talk Aziraphale into staying married for six months. Should he try begging or bribing? This was a huge ask, and Aziraphale would be well within his rights to tell Crowley to fuck off. But Crowley was prepared to offer him pretty much anything, up to half of the trust, if that’s what it took. He didn’t care.

But that was only part of his concern. Even if he got insanely lucky and Aziraphale agreed to stay legally married to him for the next six months, how the hell was he going to talk Aziraphale into dating him during that time? And was it foolish to even try?

One thing at a time, he decided. First, he needed to convince Aziraphale to stay legally married to him. Then he could set about wooing his husband. He hoped.

- Mod D

[possibility-left]

Good Omens fic recs #36

to sing the beloved by fruitygoblin - A/C, 9k words.  It's hard to describe what this story is: a vivid, imaginative vision of what angels and demons are made of, with a wry narrative voice; a long section of the hottest ethereal sex scene that I have ever read; a summation of the Fall and what it means to Crowley; also, a slow burn love story.  It's really great.

Ways to Heal a Burn by sillyteehee - A/C, 30k words.  In ancient Rome, Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves on opposite sides, one working for Marc Antony and the other for Cleopatra.  This isn't great but Antony and Cleopatra are comedy gold all the way through so it's hard to get too upset.  This feels like one of those stories where you understand that whatever dumb shit the humans are doing is something that Crowley and Aziraphale are only paying like 50% of their attention to; they are not good at their jobs but they are great at flirting!  There is a major tone-shift halfway through to serious angst and then to soft romance but it's all handled so well I found myself so excited to read the next chapter.

we are racing the clouds home by Imagined - A & C, 25k words.  This is a deliciously plotty story of Aziraphale and Crowley getting caught up in the Fall of the Tower of Babel.  I really like how the writer characterizes Aziraphale this early in his relationship to Crowley -- something I find hard to capture.  There's also this brief but STELLAR conversation about cursing in the middle that made me laugh so much because of how Them it is.  The original human characters in this story are so well-sketched and a great part of the world-building.

As Mayflies by AughtPunk - A/C, Anathema/Newt, 1300 words.  Aziraphale and Anathema have a discussion as to why an angel and a demon might be interested in spending time with humans.  This is sweet and very lovely.

to the beds of spices by solsides - A/C, some side Beelzebub/Gabriel, and Aziraphale & Muriel gen, 8k words.  After the end of S2, Aziraphale thinks through his choices, and what he said to Crowley.  There is a great scene in this where he goes and talks to Beelzebub about his relationship and Beez is, well, Beez.  The focus of the story is a lovely, romantic A/C reconciliation that I enjoyed very much.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Blue Carbuncle pt 1

Merry Christmas in March, everyone. Isn't it festive?

"Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of humanity, every possible combination of events may be expected to take place, and many a little problem will be presented which may be striking and bizarre without being criminal. We have already had experience of such." "So much so," l remarked, "that of the last six cases which I have added to my notes, three have been entirely free of any legal crime."

I do like that Holmes turns his attention to things that aren't crimes, just random peculiarities. Although arguably some of the things he references should have been crimes. (Mary Sutherland, you were wronged.) I think however, Holmes might be wrong about this one. A Carbuncle being a kind of gem, I think there might be dastardly deeds afoot of the particularly illegal kind.

"No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown. I beg that you will look upon it not as a battered billycock but as an intellectual problem.

So what we have here is a mystery of returning a hat to its owner.

"One of the latter knocked off the man's hat, on which he raised his stick to defend himself and, swinging it over his head, smashed the shop window behind him. Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his assailants; but the man, shocked at having broken the window, and seeing an official-looking person in uniform rushing towards him, dropped his goose, took to his heels, and vanished amid the labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham Court Road."

Well first, assault is a crime, so you can mark that down. Second, I think breaking a shop window counts as vandalism, although unintentional it may have been. Third, the true crime here is that the man lost both his hat and his goose on Christmas day. A calamity of no short order.

Its finder has carried it off, therefore, to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a goose

Sorry, Holmes. The geese refuse.

"Then, what clue could you have as to his identity?" "Only as much as we can deduce." "From his hat?"

Watson's insistence on being surprised every time is joyful. He never loses his awe and astonishment over Holmes' skills. But also, yes, al Sherlock has been doing for two days is staring at a hat. That's how he spent his Christmas.

That the man was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the face of it

Can't wait to hear how he figures that one out. If it has to do with the size of the man's head I will try very hard not to laugh.

This may account also for the obvious fact that his wife has ceased to love him.

Fucking savage.

"Not in the least. Is it possible that even now, when I give you these results, you are unable to see how they are attained?"

I know Holmes doesn't mean to be patronising about this, but he really is.

"It is a question of cubic capacity," said he; "a man with so large a brain must have something in it."

There it is! Big hat = big head = big brain. OR maybe Big hat = big hair = very little brain. OR... big hat = big head = big ego.

The Victorian insistence on things like this is an endless source of amusement to me. Yes, it makes logical sense. You can see why they'd think it. And yet, also... no.

It also makes me think of this guy:

Come to think of it, Megamind isn't wearing a hat... maybe he's also missing a goose.

"But his wife—you said that she had ceased to love him." "This hat has not been brushed for weeks."

Hat brushing, the true test of affection. Sure, your OTP are sweet, but do they brush each others' hats.

I mean, he could have brushed his own hat, but I know that kind of gender fuckery would have been anathema. Men brushing their own hats? What do they have wives for? Whatever is the world coming to when a man has to brush his own hat? MADNESS!

"One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but when I see no less than five, I think that there can be little doubt that the individual must be brought into frequent contact with burning tallow."

To have two tallow stains might be considered a misfortune, but to have five is nothing short of carelessness!

"as you said just now, there has been no crime committed, and no harm done save the loss of a goose, all this seems to be rather a waste of energy.

Watson, Watson, Watson. You slave to the capitalist machine.

Must a puzzle be productive? Must it be grand? Must it always be the King of Bohemia as supplicant begging for aid? Is it not enough that a man has lost a hat and a goose. Is it not even enough for the puzzle to be enough in and of itself?

Cut off the shackles of productivity. Cast aside the delusions of 'meaning'. The universe is chaos and we are but a blip in time.

The recovery of the hat of a man who has clearly not been able to afford a new one for some time, whose wife no longer loves him, and who had to suffer Christmas with no roast goose holds as much meaning as a bank robbery. If not more. For shame, Watson. For shame! Have you no pity in your heart?

"The goose, Mr Holmes! The goose, sir!" he gasped. "Eh? What of it, then? Has it returned to life and flapped off through the kitchen window?"

OMG untitled goose game Sherlock Holmes edition. You are a terrible goose and it is Christmas day in Victorian London!

"See here, sir! See what my wife found in its crop!" He held out his hand and displayed upon the centre of the palm a brilliantly scintillating blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size, but of such purity and radiance that it twinkled like an electric point in the dark hollow of his hand.

This is a very lovely description of the stone, but also, introducing the titular character, the blue carbuncle. Alas, the goose will probably have no further importance.

"Not the Countess of Morcar's blue carbuncle!" I ejaculated.

1 - another ejaculation, 2 - This is, fittingly for Christmastime, feeling a little like pantomime.

Oh no it isn't!

Oh yes it is!

"the reward offered of 1000 pounds is certainly not within a twentieth part of the market price."

Inflation calculation time again

£1000 in 1890 comes to approximately £100,000 today.

Making the Blue Carbuncle's market price an estimated £2 million in today's money. The biggest goose heist of all time? I think so.

"A thousand pounds! Great Lord of mercy!" The commissionaire plumped down into a chair and stared from one to the other of us.

Fair.

'Ryder instantly gave the alarm, and Horner was arrested the same evening; but the stone could not be found either upon his person or in his rooms. Catherine Cusack, maid to the Countess, deposed to having heard Ryder's cry of dismay on discovering the robbery, and to having rushed into the room, where she found matters as described by the last witness.'

I trust neither Ryder nor Catherine Cusack. They are very fishy.

Inspector Bradstreet, B division, gave evidence as to the arrest of Horner, who struggled frantically, and protested his innocence in the strongest terMs Evidence of a previous conviction for robbery having been given against the prisoner, the magistrate refused to deal summarily with the offence, but referred it to the Assizes. Horner, who had shown signs of intense emotion during the proceedings, fainted away at the conclusion and was carried out of court.

Hi Inspector Bradstreet! Hope you had a good Christmas.

I really don't think Horner did it. I know I said I read this one, but all that means is that I'm mostly aware of the how. Not so much the who.

Found at the corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat. Mr Henry Baker can have the same by applying at 6:30 this evening at 221B, Baker Street.

Not to be a party pooper, but couldn't you have done that to start with?

"And, I say, Peterson, just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here with me, for we must have one to give to this gentleman in place of the one which your family is now devouring."

So many geese. More geese, please. I think this holds the record for the number of geese in one Sherlock Holmes story. Hopefully there will be more next time.