#gits adjacent

[bluepeachstudios]

I love that Ghost has his own Extended Universe.

There are so many Ghost aus I can make every major arcana card a different version of Ghost.

I LIED I am still missing Wheel of Fortune, Star, and Chariot.

Zero is a crossover with @alicat54cwriting's Empathy is Learned au

Parry is a crossover with @alicat54cwriting's A Different Eldest Brother au

Rat AU Ghost is a crossover of @scatterbrainedbot's tmnt rat au

Banshee is the crossover from @melonpalooza's The Last Ronin Becomes a Discord Admin

Snapper Lou Nini is a crossover with @kittynomore's Snapper Lou au

TEB Nini is a crossover of @debb987's The Eldest Brother au

Gigi is a crossover of @bluesgras's Ronin au

Roadtrip AU Ghost is a crossover with @phykoha's Lone Survivor au

Dragon in the Woods Dawn is another different crossover with @alicat54cwriting's Empathy is Learned au

... I think that's all the crossovers... If I missed one I apologize I have chronic brain fog 🫡

[chickenisamazing]

It's so funny how half the group is math people, the other half is CS people, and then there's me

[thelov3lybookworm]

What did you say?

Summary: He needs to stop saying thank you.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1047

Warnings: none, unless you can say tooth rotting fluff and domestic cass x reader counts?

A/n: this is just adorable i loved writing this so much🥹🥹🥹

cassian is just so pookie and i love him sm 😭 someone get me a cassian please as a birthday git 😭

anyways, ENJOY🥹

(p.s: this is like the one fic i didnt discuss with berry my love becos i changed the plan for cass's fic like 5 days before posting and wrote this thang in basically a few hours lol i forgot to yap my bad sorry 😔)

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Being a five hundred year old fae, not many thing’s excited Y/n. But there were also a lot of things that did excite Y/n, and one of them was watching her husband fumble around trying to make her smile.

That morning, Y/n had woken up with a raging headache, the pounding in her head beating her brain like a wardrum. Add to the mix her hormones were all over the place at not finding herself waking up in the comforting embrace of her giant teddy bear.

She had been in a pissy mood all morning when Cassian returned home after his training session with the valkyries that lasted longer than usual.

Y/n had been glaring down at her plate of fried eggs that were not as runny as she liked, having lost touch with cooking them for herself because Cassian insisted on making her breakfast everyday when he walked in through the door to their marital home.

Of course, he did not realise that she was in a very bad mood and tried to joke around, trying to get her spirits to lift as usually that seemed to work.

"Looks like someone woke on the wrong side of the bed today, huh?"

Y/n turned sharply to glare at her husband who did not even have the decency to apologise for not being there for her when she woke with the headache that still refused to leave before making fun of her. The fucking audacity.

She had only glared at him for a long moment before turning and leaving to their bedroom, but that moment was enough for Cassian to catch onto the fact that she was mad mad.

It also allowed Y/n a glimpse of panic flashing in his eyes, for which she had felt guilty but she knew she needed time to calm down before talking to him.

And now, it was evening, and the puppy eyes Cassian watched Y/n with were making her heart melt.

How could someone be this adorable?

He’d been at it the whole day. Bringing her her favourite pastries from a nearby bakery, running her a hot bath and slipping a note into the bedroom from under the door, making her dinner. When she had come down after a relaxing bath, he had even offered her a back massage.

His voice had been so light, but she heard the softness, the caution in it.

And Y/n had almost agreed to that massage that sounded so heavenly, but watching her husband be sad over her behaviour that morning ate her alive, and agreeing to let him cater to all her wants without realising that she was not mad at him felt like she was using him.

It had almost been an hour since he had offered, and since they’d had dinner and moved to the living room. She had tried to make conversation with him, but he seemed lost in his own mind, offering her short responses before his eyes turned distant again.

Y/n did not need that bond between her and her husband to know that he was trying to figure out what he’d done wrong.

"Cass?"

He blinked, then looked away from her, his ears darkening before he met her gaze again. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare."

Y/n raised a brow. "And so what if you did?" his brows furrowed, so Y/n hastened to add in case he thought she was still mad. "I’m your wife, your mate. You can look however much you want."

"I… yeah."

Y/n sighed, then stood from the couch and walked over to the oversized armchair adjacent to the fireplace that Cassian occupied and settled down in his lap, trying to focus on formulating a coherent sentence and not on the way his warm hands immediately wrapped around her waist.

He watched her quietly, his eyes slightly wide.

Though those beautiful eyes fluttered shut when Y/n leaned in and kissed him.

It was not a full on kiss, if she had to be honest. It was just a tiny peck, even that faint brush of their lips sending pleasant warmth shooting through her veins.

"Thank you-" Y/n paused, watching her husband blurt out the two words with her brows tugging together.

"What- what did you say?"

He blinked, blood climbing up his neck. "I… thank you?"

Y/n could not help it anymore. She threw her head back and laughed, unable to control the shaking of her body.

"Cass, are you thanking me for kissing you?"

"Yeah? You were mad at me-"

"I wasn’t."

He blinked again, then leaned back in the armchair. "What do you mean- why were you upset in the morning then?"

Y/n sighed, dropping her head into the junction between his shoulder and neck. "I had a raging headache when I woke up, and then I wanted to cuddle with you but you were gone. I was just upset at that."

He exhaled, raising his hands to run through Y/n’s unbound hair. "I’m sorry love, I had to go. You know the blood rite is coming soon, and a lot more priestesses and illyrian women want to partake this year. Az’s been running himself ragged, and Gwyn’s been so worried for him."

Y/n pulled back to meet his eyes. "Don’t apologise for being you, Cass. I know you love to help and train, and I am not mad when I am blessed with the most amazing husband in all of prythian."

Cassian’s eyes turned glassy at that, and he softly kissed her forehead.

"Thank you-"

Y/n groaned, standing up again.

"I swear to the mother if you say that one more time I’m going to bite you."

HIs expression morphed into a serious one, smile fading, and Y/n was once again reminded of his position in the night court. He looked more like his scheming general self that her sweet, adorable husband who pouted everytime Y/n did not give him five more minutes of cuddles.

"Y/n… thank you."

Y/n burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter as she watched him leap out of his preferred seat and bolted up the stairs to their bedroom.

"Oh you cunning ass!"

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Permanent Taglist: @berryzxx @sarawritestories @milswrites @throneofsmut

@daycourtofficial @sweetorangeblossom @secret-third-thing

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

@cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1

@hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21

@mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @lady-of-tearshed @starsinyourseyes

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady

@lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @garden-of-runar @girlswithimagination

@sunnyspycat @artists-ally @milswrites @kingdomofstarrynights

@berryzxx @buttermilktea11 @loving-and-dreaming @yucanbmylxdy

@mellowmusings

Cassian Taglist: @moonlwghts @samslittlespoon @nickishadow139

[yallthemwitches]

Free Fall

“What are you doing,” Lily hissed at him. “Get up, we are going to the hospital wing right now.”

“What was I supposed to do? Stand you up? I’d rather let the bludger cut my head clean off—“

For @jilytoberfest Day 7, Prompt:🎶“No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her” - Work Song by Hozier

I decided to take a lighter, fluffy route knowing this prompt would get angsty fast ;)

AO3 Link Here

Falling into a rhythm had been surprisingly easy.

“It’s really not so bad, “ Lily explained,”—at the very least we get free drinks and food—sometimes if we are lucky, Wheeler gets piss drunk and starts singing into cauldrons.”

 She leaned over the table, face flush from laughing. It was a new routine of sorts, born out of the habits they had built on their own. Both of them always went to the library after their second class, Lily using the time to study and James something similar albeit questionable. The talking part just came naturally from there, first starting as a little comment or question here and there, evolving into an interaction that Lily hated to admit she very much looked forward to.  

 James reclined in his seat, watching her describe a typical Slugclub party with more interest than the event deserved. For years he had always been the embodiment of chaos, like Hogwarts' very own bespectacled Pan, not at all the soft and warm presence Lily met with in the library for months now. Sometimes it plagued her. How much change could he have possibly made over one summer? For years, she had never believed Remus’ insistence that he could be anything but an annoying git—but the proof sat in front of her. It worried her how refreshing it was.

“Wow, Evans. I can’t believe you are actually selling this to me right now.” James clanked the feet of his chair back onto the floor, laughter riddled on his face.

“I’ve heard I’m very persuasive.”

“Well riddle me persuaded.”

 They both leaned forward, eyeing each other across the table. For a millisecond James’ eyes flitted to her lips.

Maybe she had been distracted by his clear desire to kiss her in that moment, but she didn’t remember making the decision before the words came out.

“Well—,” her voice turned quiet, “maybe you could come by this time—I mean, if Slughorn allows you in the door.”

A smile burst on his face and Lily swore the room got a bit brighter. His hand sprung to his hair, knocking his glasses more askew than normal. 

“Yeah? Maybe I will then.”

Neither dared to call it a date. 

*********

It had been exactly forty-five minutes since Lily arrived—not that she was counting.

“Wow—since when did you clean up so much for a Slughorn party?” Marlene  pulled two coupes of champagne off of a passing tray, handing one to Lily.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

 Despite her best intentions, she couldn’t stop glancing at the door. James hadn’t exactly confirmed he was going to come, but if the look on his face had been any indication, there was at least a chance he would show. Isn’t this what he always wanted: a date or at least a date adjacent activity? She wracked her brain for any reason he would have to not show, and was upset to realize there were actually a lot. 

“So who is the lucky lad we are waiting for?” Marlene smirked into her glass.

“Again, I don’t know what you are—-���

“Oh fuck off with that Lils, you have been staring at the door, fidgeting like you need to take a piss since you got here. So who is it.”

Lily just took a deep sip of her wine. The dinner portion of the evening was going to begin soon, which meant the window for Potter to attend was closing rapidly. 

She didn’t know what she hated more: getting her hopes up or even wanting to see him in the first place. She replayed the conversation in the library in her brain again, searching for any ambiguity that could explain his absence, a losing game.

Sinking into her seat, the house elves arrived with platters of ham and potatoes stacked higher than their heads. Slughorn rambled on about the newest developments in the Wolfsbane potion, sloshing his sherry at his wary table guests while Marlene had all but abandoned Lily in her wallowing, opting to lean herself over her plate to gossip with Hufflepuff Amelia Sparrow a couple seats down.

“Did you hear what happened? Potter got—-“

Lily stopped cutting her potato,  head shooting up to look across the table. Amelia’s eyes were glinting behind her glasses as they always did when she had some real juicy gossip to share. Marlene was practically kneeling in her chair to crane towards her, blocking poor Eddie Fay from his meal.

 It was difficult to hear with the rest of the noise of the party, but she was able to make out a word every so often that set her heart rate into acceleration.

“Accident—bludger—free fall—“

A call from the other end of the table ruined her strained listening. She tried to smile as Sluhorn introduced her to a rather unpleasant man across the table, all her brain power focused on catching the rest of Amelia’s gossip, panic setting in.

“ I didn’t see him but I heard it was bad.”

A knock startled her. The wood door creaked as it whipped open and a slender body trudged into the room.

“Wow, I guess fashionably late doesn’t apply here.”

The whole table went silent in horror at James’ entrance. He was the embodiment of battered: still in his quidditch kit, dry blood caked his neck and the shoulder of his jersey. A bandage wrapped around the crown of his head, covering one eye and rendering his glasses half useful. Hair new levels of untidy with clumps of blood caked dirt riddled throughout. 

“Alright Evans?”

He moved over to her, his smile partly shrouded by dirt and blood. Slughorn stood up at his seat, clamoring for something to say to his new guest.

“Good Lord Potter! What happened to you? And why in Merlin's name are you here?”

An elf made a spot for James at the table and a chair floated over from the wall. 

“Evans invited me—-thought you wouldn’t mind,” James gave Lily a little wink as she gawked back at him. Closer now, she could see that whatever headwound he sported, it was very much still open and bleeding. 

“That’s fine my boy, but your looking a bit—-“

“Oh this?” James pointed at his head, “Nah, its alright. Had worse—-can you pass the potatoes?”

The party attempted to go back to normalcy, but with noticeably more whispers than small talk. James cut into his food like nothing was wrong, asking politely if the house elf could refresh his wine after downing the first glass in a single sip. 

“What are you doing,” Lily hissed at him. “Get up, we are going to the hospital wing right now.”

James took another sip of his wine, a little smile pulling at his lips. 

“Bad luck, Evans. Already been there—it's surprising how hard it is to sneak past Pomfrey…probably didn’t help I’m one eye down but—“

“What,” Lily bellowed. “I knew you were a nutter Potter, but this—this..”

James turned his body to her, wincing as his head turned. 

“I hear you Evans, but what was I supposed to do? Stand you up? I’d rather let the bludger cut my head clean off—“

Her cheeks grew pink and James smiled brighter. He continued to chew on a piece of potato, but his breathing was becoming more haggard by the second. A line of blood trickled from his bandage.

She knew he was stubborn, but this was reaching new limits. She placed a hand over his cutting hand and he froze under her touch. 

“If I come with you, will you go to the hospital wing?”

“Will you sit with me?” Even in pain, he sounded cheeky.

“Yes.”

“—And will you make a big scene of leaving, like we just can’t wait another minute to shag..”

“James.”

“Ok-ok… snog.”

Lily ignored him, standing up and offering him her hand. He stared at it, a smile pulling at his cheeks. The whole room stopped to watch as James placed a shaky hand in hers, using her as leverage to pull himself out of his seat, his bandage now completely soaked through with blood.  

Under different circumstances she would have been more embarrassed as he leaned himself against her, but despite his state, he was warm and strong. A nice reminder that he was alive and would presumably keep on living. 

Despite his demands, she didn’t say anything to the crowd as they left the room, assuming the situation spoke for itself. Out in the hall, James righted himself a bit more, trying to carry his own weight on shaky limbs.

“Sorry I mucked it up Evans—old habits I guess.”

Lily looked at him but he stared straight ahead, a grimace of disappointment passed on his face. She gave his hand a squeeze and he looked down between them, brightening up from the little reminder that they were still connected.

“You can make it up to me with an explanation when we get to the hospital wing,“She teased, “I expect great detail and wild gestures.”

“So you’ll stay?” He tightened his grip in her hand, relief washing over him. 

Lily smirked, “It’s not everyday your date lets himself bleed out just to show up to dinner.”

 He looked at her like he did so often in the darkness of the library, like she could say or do anything and he would follow with rapt attention. They started walking again and she felt James’ arm slide around her waist, holding her tight to his side. He was warm and getting more stable by the second. She realized she wanted him close, in whatever form that took. So close, she didn’t even mind when he leaned down, resting his bloody head to hers. 

[dustedmagazine]

The Gits — Enter: The Conquering Chicken/Seafish Louisville (Sub Pop)

The music zeitgeist rolled right over Mia Zapata and the Gits, barely stopping to glance at her eruptive mesh of metal riff and blues fluency, of punk urgency and classic rock swagger. Before and after Zapata’s run, women were meant to warble and coo, not howl in fiery triumph or roll notes on flame around in their mouths, so that they slithered and coiled and hissed out on the stage. It’s one of rock and roll’s great missed turns, her exit and subsequent disappearance, a path not taken, a path just about entirely forgotten.

Well, not so fast, says Sub Pop, a label with authority in the Pacific Northwest’s grunge-punk-rock evolution. They’re reissuing all four Gits albums, remastered by Jack Endino, and packaged with notes from Tim Sommer, the Atlantic A&R representative who might have pushed the Gits out into the mainstream if there had been more time for that.

Four albums, but let’s focus on two for now, the second full-length Enter: The Conquering Chicken from 1994 and Seafish Louisville, a compilation of demos, live cuts and alternate takes originally put out in 2000. You’ll have to read Jonathan Shaw for his take on the debut, Frenching the Bully, or the early recordings collected in Kings and Queens. We split up the bounty, two each, and as it happens, he got the prologue, while I took the post-mortem.

Enter: The Conquering Chicken would, quite possibly, have catapulted the Gits onto a wider stage, enlarging the full-throated blues rock aesthetic that the band had proposed on Frenching the Bully, going head-long and full-on in their celebration of drinking, comradeship and rock and roll. The Gits had already started on it in July of 1993, when Zapata, walking home from a club, was raped and murdered. The band finished it without her, but that was it for the Gits. They broke up soon after.

The tragedy at the end of the Gits story understandably cast a shadow over the bands’ output. It was hard to listen to the music just as it was, without the backstory. But now, more than three decades later, it feels possible to consider these songs as songs, finally, and holy hell, do they rock. Here’s the monster-riffed “Seaweed,” lumbering over an insurgent rhythm, Zapata in middle of it, her voice fluttering and confiding, then erupting in an all-consuming belt. The interplay of bass and guitar is more like Van Halen than anything punk, just gigantically sized, clean and propulsive. Looking to pogo? Try “Drunks” with its manic one-two punch, its thundering speed, its rockabilly flourishes, its all hands shout of the title. “Precious Blood,” by contrast, is all slouchy, in the pocket blues, Zapata not forcing anything, letting the melody roll and flow, as the noise builds in around her. She’s in the same mode on her riff on Sam Cooke’s “Change Is Going to Come,” letting the big notes shudder and blossom with vibrato, snaking the melody around massive metal guitar blasts. And though it’s impossible to pigeonhole Zapata or the band she fronts by genre, it is also instantly clear who they are, seconds into any song, regardless of style or tempo.  

The disc closes on a disturbing note, with a track — “Song of the Crab” — that seems to foreshadow Zapata’s untimely end. Against a firestorm of metal-adjacent guitar work, Zapata howls, “Never ceases to amaze me the things you’ll try to pull/Anything to get me in and then get me killed/Go ahead and slash me up spread me all across this town/‘Cause you know you’re the one that won’t be found.” Chilling.

If Enter: The Conquering Chicken marks the natural end of the Gits trajectory, Seafish Louisville comes seven years after the fact. It collects 16 previously unreleased tracks, ten of them live sessions at the RCKCNDY club, a Seattle punk mainstay that closed in 1999. And yet, while the comp is archival, it does a lot to bring the Gits into the here and now. A scorching version of the Gits signature “Another Shot of Whiskey,” a manic take on “A” at unhinged speed, a thundering, blistered romp through “Slaughter of Bruce” — here’s a record that puts you right up against the stage within spitting distance in an eternal hard-rocking present. Seafish also makes the case that whatever you think you know about the Gits, there’s more to discover. A previously unknown cut, “Whirlwind” thrashes and rages at the beginning of the track listening.

Gits revivals recur at intervals. I first encountered the band during a previous one, around the release of the 2005 documentary The Gits. But both then and now, what struck me hardest was how astonishing it was that music this powerful could happen and disappear and fail to move the dialogue. Maybe this time, it will be different? Probably not. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t hear this, if you haven’t, or that you can’t profit from revisiting it if you have.  

Jennifer Kelly

[crab-people-overlord]

Intro 🧡

guess I might as well do an intro

diagnosed adhd software engineer here (🩷💜💙, english + español) coming to you from the Rocky Mountains (where rich people's empty ski condos are literally everywhere and driving up costs….. pls send help)

writing stuff + ao3 link

just finished a canon-adjacent story about the main kids. it’s a short story that I had so much fun writing :) and I hope to focus on more short stories in the future.

also doing a south park/good place crossover because why not

wrote this thing called "the cultish conundrum" which... exists... (planning to rewrite it someday when i git gud™️) (wrote this when I knew NOTHING of fandom so I did try to be canon-compliant but knew nothing of creative writing when I first started, so I hope to revisit to rewrite it to be actually… good one day lol)

Also if you’re an ao3 writer of your own and want me to kudos/comment just lmk!! I know this isn’t an excuse but my adhd makes it so bad for me to read others works but if I’m instructed to I genuinely love it and want to support y’all as from what I’ve seen, there’s SO many talented SP writers out there that I genuinely want to support so badly but am literally so bad at committing when there’s so many choices lmao

quick stats:

mid 20s and fresh out of college (studied computer sci so bear w me if I sound too tech bro; I won’t be offended if you call me out for doing something wrong as I not only don’t get offended easily, but acknowledge I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing since literally the only time I’ve had social media in the past is when I would look at tumblr in middle school cuz it allowed porn it im being real with you 👀) im prob never going to get a twitter account

9w8 ISTP (took the official tests in college tho acknowledge it’s only slightly scientific lol)

ex-mormon who served a mission (emphasis on the ‘ex’- 🫡 🥲 god the stories I have lmfao. also I may or may not talk too much about the BoM musical because of this - sorry, not sorry)

works in tech and works from home

builds legos and games most nights (i wanna learn new hobbies besides this, hence the whole trying to learn how to write thing. pls bear with me- i BS’d my way through English classes in college lol)

so yeah!! south park has basically been my comfort show/emotional support media for as long as i can remember. like it's literally been keeping me sane through… everything. I’ll respect any ship in the fandom (unless it’s something really weird like the things ‘pro shippers’ are for? But I’ll be honest I literally haven’t run into any of this and don’t plan on searching for it lmfao. And no, I don’t view ‘kyman’ as a ‘pro ship’ when done right, so I respect it (aside from the weird ass nazi folks who I will never get along with but thank god I haven’t run into those folks… and I’d like to keep it that way 🥲)

absolutely down to chat about anything!! just use my ask box or dm if you're 18+ (minors please no dm). This blog will likely stay sfw, but it may occasionally not be! I’ll tag when it’s not, but this is your warning now. i promise i'm super chill and just here to vibe with other cool humans who don't tolerate any transphobic/racist/etc behavior. I don’t ever do social media (aside from TikTok to share guitar covers but im way too pussy to face reveal here), but just want to connect with others in the fandom so here I am 👋

not here for any drama and will respect ships in the fandom though i am partial to style (what got me to look into the fandom space in the first place, though even here love their sbf relationship first and foremost before anything romantic as i only recently started shipping them. When I say im new to fandom romantic shipping of any kind, I truly mean it lmfao)

also I like writing meta posts, but just know I do it all for fun and that I completely understand and respect that my opinions are just that- opinions. at the end of the day it’s just a silly show and that’s the fun of fandom- being able to share these

[metalgearstranding]

(Old) Games I want to finish/try again/play in 2025:

-Dishonored 1 and 2 (a game I know I'll love because fuck I love Prey so much, I just need to try it again with no expectations)

-Red Dead Redemption 2 (I accidentally pissed off a town the first time I was in it, and it annoyed the fuck out of me lol Should retry and be more careful)

-Bioshock 1 and 2 (my friend made me try 2 and was watching me play, and it really distracted me so it killed my desire to keep going. I really love Bioshock Infinite though so I think the first games are worth another try)

-Hades (I hate when games beat ME, I gotta beat THEM. I tried this game back roughly at the same time I was playing WoW Shadowlands and there was system that was sorta like Hades and I haaaaated it so Hades suffered for it)

-Tunic (maybe? haven't tried it, not even sure if I'd like it but there's a cute fox...)

-Terraria (bought, haven't tried yet)

-V Rising (bought, haven't tried yet)

-Path of Exile (I tried it waaay back when, I'm a fan of Diablo II so I think I should give it a second chance, I love that insane skill tree I saw lol)

-Ori and the Will of the Wisp (I blamed my suckage on not having a controller at the time -also did that with Horizon Zero Dawn lawl- Might retry it now that I have a controller, but I'm pretty sure I'll discover that it's a skill issue and I just need to git good)

-Elden Ring, maybe? (I'm eyeing it right now because it's on sale. I told myself I'd never play a soulslike because I know how I get when I'm not as good at a game as I'd like to be. But the exploration side of it looks fun, I love sandbox games and open worlds... Valheim is sorta like that, and it's soulslike adjacent and I still love it so I don't know...)

[definitionsfading]

tartan

for your consideration; a domestic ficlet I did as a warm-up last night

content warnings: includes some adult humor between married celestial entities and Crowley is pregnant (by choice) ((the babies are Aziraphale’s)) (((ayy)))

+ + + + + +

It’d been something of a strange summer thus far, all things told. London volleyed between pouring rain and spiking heat waves every other week throughout the month of June, then trundled headlong into July with the tepid promise of milder weather. It was a sleight of hand trick meant to beguile and fool every weather forecaster in the country, because after the rains passed one morning the temperature dropped so low that Aziraphale had to pull his wool cardigan back out of the upstairs wardrobe.

But if mother nature was temperamental and unpredictable that summer, well—she had nothing on a pregnant demon. 

“I’m hardly a stone’s throw into the second bloody trimester and already nothing fits,” Crowley moaned from where he’d flopped back onto the bed with the button of his trousers still undone, the garment in question butterflied open at the zip. “Not even a vest top. Meanwhile, it’s sodding July and we’re wearing jumpers, as if my entire existence weren’t already enough of a sick joke.” 

Aziraphale poked his head out of the adjacent water closet, fingers still busy tidying up his cufflinks, and appraised the grim sight on the bed. Crowley was right; every time he tugged down his black cotton vest it would simply roll up over the rounded swell of his middle again. 

“Don’t get yourself in a tip, dear, I’m sure we’ll be able to pop out to the shops and find something suiting,” Aziraphale said, stepping further into the room to wander over to the bedside. “Even if it’s unseasonably cool, I think this weather is a far cry better than the heat for somebody in your condition.”

“My condition, he says,” Crowley snorted, golden eyes flashing just before he draped a dramatic forearm across his face and moaned again. “This is your fault, you know—we only really needed the one baby and here your angelic super sperm had to go and knock me up twice as hard. I’d still be fitting into my trousers if I weren’t busy stuffing my face for three.” 

Aziraphale laughed, warm palms landing on the knobby shapes of Crowley’s knee caps. “Now see here,” he countered, “I wouldn’t have been able to do that if it weren’t for your overindulgent ovaries releasing two eggs during the same cycle. You’re just as much to blame, if not more.” 

Crowley made another wretched sound but let his arm roll away from his face, gazing up at his husband with a pitiful hangdog expression around his eyes. “But m’cold, angel,” he said, pouting out his lower lip. “I can’t very well go out looking like this, and what’s the point in buying anything—? When I must be gaining a fresh inch around the middle overnight at this rate.” 

“Because you’re healthy, darling, and your body is doing a remarkable job of sustaining our growing children,” Aziraphale reminded him, letting his hands slide down to Crowley’s thighs as a telling flush bloomed on the demon’s chest and began crawling toward his throat. “If you weren’t growing accordingly I think we’d have more cause for concern. From my point of view, I don’t think you’ve ever been as gorgeous as you are right now.” 

“Yeah, but I can be butt-arse naked in front of you, you sentimental git,” Crowley groused, wriggling there with Aziraphale leaning between his spread knees. “All that greeting card swill doesn’t solve the problem of me busting all the seams in my clothes if I so much as sneeze.” 

Aziraphale thought about that for a moment, with genuine effort, and then smiled. “I think I may have a temporary solution, if you’re amenable to it.” 

“Which is?” Crowley asked, arching a gingery eyebrow, but Aziraphale was already pushing away from the bedside and whisking back over to the old wardrobe. 

Crowley laid there in resignation for a few beats, gazing up at the velvet canopy of the four-poster until Aziraphale started sliding hangers on the rail and curiosity got the better of him. By the time he could manage to hoist himself back up into a sitting position again, the angel was already standing at the bedside with an assortment of clothing folded over one arm. 

“Oh no, absssolutely not,” Crowley started, eyes widening at the sight of some camel coloured slacks. “I’d rather go out full starkers, angel, than be caught dead—”

“Do hush, you utter fiend, it’s not that bad,” Aziraphale tutted over him with a roll of his eyes, holding up a jumper with a flourish meant to inspire. “This is pure Ladakhi cashmere, I’ll have you know. It’ll feel like French butter against your skin.” 

Crowley pulled a doubtful face. “Dunno about you, but I’ve never been one to slather myself in butter on a real lark,” he muttered, but reached out and took the sweater anyway, a cream and camel-based tartan with a thin blue stripe. He swore as he pulled it on over his head, and then proceeded to sit very still on the edge of the bed as they both looked down at the offending garment. The cashmere accommodated his belly perfectly, neither too snug nor too loose where it draped around his figure as if it’d been made bespoke. 

“That was pure luck,” Crowley said, plucking at the sleeves. “There’s no way in utter creation those trousers will fit me.” 

Aziraphale only held them out with another glowing smile. “Give them a try, love, if only to indulge a doddering old angel.” 

It took some grumbling and a few more choice swears once Crowley was standing, but he stepped one foot at a time into the slacks and then—rather miraculously, all in all—hoisted them up so they fastened without a hitch just under his navel. 

“Ngk,” Crowley said, once Aziraphale had pulled the tartan jumper down and straightened the hem for him. “Uhm.” 

“You look so handsome,” Aziraphale crowed as his hands clasped together, corners of his eyes crinkling up in joy. “Go over and have a peek in the looking glass for yourself.” 

Crowley sauntered over to the mirror and appraised his reflection from the front, and then the very new and ever-changing side profile. He cupped a hand under his growing bump and pulled a frown, but it began to wobble a bit just as soon as he caught Aziraphale’s adoring expression peering at him in the glass. 

“Do I look fat?” he asked in a tremulous sort of laugh, just before Aziraphale’s arms circled around his middle and pressed the tartan cashmere more flush against Crowley’s skin. Damn it all to hell, it was as sodding soft as French butter.

“No, you’re positively radiant,” Aziraphale said, dropping a kiss onto Crowley’s shoulder there in their shared reflection. “Even better, wearing my colours like you are.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Crowley sniffled, feeling something unexpected and hot burning behind his eyes. “And what of it?”

“You look like you belong to me,” Aziraphale said in a velvety voice, bracing both hands underneath Crowley’s belly. “All mine to keep and adore for myself, I’m afraid.” 

Crowley scoffed and reached up to dab at something on one cheek before wrinkling his nose. It was starting to get oddly warm in the bedroom all of a sudden. “Well, I suppose you’re right about that part,” he said. “Just this once.”

Aziraphale nodded, and this time felt the upward quirk of his husband’s dopey smile against his lips when he gently turned his face for a kiss. “Just this once,” he agreed amiably. “Do you think you’ll be warm enough to pop out to the shops, now?”

“If I must,” Crowley diplomatically decided, admiring his transformed reflection for another beat before turning to straighten Aziraphale’s bow tie. He leaned in for another chaste kiss, and then reached around to pinch a small handful of angelic bum. “The sooner we get out, the sooner we can do luncheon and come back to shag for the rest of the afternoon.” 

“Impeccable logic, dear,” Aziraphale said with a breathy little laugh of his own. Crowley gave him a wink before stepping away to fetch his trainers and sunglasses, and only then did Aziraphale glance back to the looking glass and see that the tartan of his bow tie had somehow changed itself to match the colours on a certain demon’s cashmere jumper. 

It was rounding out to be an interesting summer, indeed.

[if you enjoy fics like this one, feel free to check out my ineffable parents ficlet collection or other Good Omens works on AO3]

[autisticempathydaemon]

On Repeat Playlist Tag

Rules: shuffle your repeat playlist ten times and tag ten people

Tagged by @pinksparkl, @nortyourself, @halscafe, @cashandprizes, and @epaulettesharks! Y’all really want a taste of my shitty music lol

Tagging: @penncilkid @mr-laveau @tepid-judas @frenchiefitzhere @caelumsnuff @gingerbreadmonsters @litlkim @wingless-cupid @calicostorms @just-call-me-angel

I am obsessed with singing this song okay it reminds me of zydeco music and it makes me homesick

I am cringe and I am free

I don’t need to explain myself also Hephaestus is a bomb singer

Not as fun as the actual musical but still such a bad bitch anthem

I cannot express to you the sheer gender euphoria I experience being Audrey II it is frankly something to bring up to a therapist

Proof of too much time spent on Lexi’s yandere playlist

Double proof

The one song I play in my car that the Boyf well and truly hates which is saying something given how often I rickroll him

I like to sing this and pretend I’m a femme fatale and not a marshmallow that wished to be a real boy

This tracks it wouldn’t be me if there wasn’t at least one K-pop adjacent song on here

[bluepeachstudios]

I feel like Ghost would have a f*cking aneurism if he ended up in the 2012!universe instead of rise. He’ll have constants heart attacks over all the horrors.

At least he’ll got along with 12!Splinter. I feel that their relationship will be better than the one he has with rise!Splinter

Me and @melonpalooza actually went like. Kinda insane for a week and talked about Ghost dropping into 2012 instead, but because of the differing timeline, he drops right on top of Splinter saving the kids from the Krang. Also he got named Nathaniel, for reasons I won't explain.

His relationship with Splinter is.............

decent, most of the time. There are still Moments.

He actually starts to think of Splinter as his father after the Shredder kills him for the first time, and he spends six months taking care of his little brothers in space and realizes he misses Splinter as much as he misses his own father.

Anyway I might've written like three whole short stories in random places in the 2012 timeline because I'm just. I'm a feral creature that spits out words like a sprinkler. Who knows what insane thing I'm gonna do next.

[patbwaifs]

i'm actually kinda tearing up. there's stuff i need to fix, sure, and i haven't even started on coloring but look at what i got to.

i've been lowkey irritated on how i was drawing the past few days. i went to Beavers Bend State Park today and just didn't let myself worry about anything else going on. When I came home I remembered that while semi-realistic anime styles (GitS 1995) and shojo (RGU) are a big influence for me, so are styles like what vewn draws in. (it's actually what the title "where did you put your grit" references. it's asking me, its not really a title about that connor drawing.)

I revisited the gouache brush from the first time i was messing around in CSP and things turned out a lot better. Part of the issue of anime-adjacent styles for me is the simplification in service of symmetrical beauty. (there might be a more academic way to put it idk) The nose is nearly invisible, there's a strong framework for faces and I don't have the familiarity and skill to modify it to show more diversity without "breaking the style"

But I want to be able to push how I draw characters. I need to be able to draw "ugly" that fits.

I don't know when's the next time I'll work on this animation loop since I really needed to gain enough mastery in CSP to work on some current projects but... i'm really happy with where this got me.

I'm happy.

[jeanjauthor]

In Downton Abbey the earls daughter rights to the times for her support of women’s right to vote during suffragette times. Did anything like this happen? Where women with status high-profile women either denounced misogyny or supported suffragette? 

A whole bunch of stuff happened. Like the modern day with women voting (against their best interests) for members of the GOP to get into positions of draconian power over their bodies & lives, and modern women voting for candidates struggling to preserve their bodily autonomy (sometimes the Democrats, sometimes other parties)...over 100 years ago, some women spoke up for their right to vote and be accounted a full citizen rather than the property of the nearest adjacent male relative in their life...and there some who refused to consider the idea as "proper" discussion.

And plenty who wanted to speak up, but the men in their lives made them too afraid to do so.

The advantage of being someone in high society is that it's much more difficult for your own family members (mostly the men, sometimes other women) to beat you black & blue. It'd be very obvious.

The disadvantage of being someone in high society who doesn't have any job-worthy skills is that you are very, very dependent upon the wealthy members of your family (usually the men). If you rock the boat too much, you could literally be thrown out with only the clothes on your back, and no means of securing food & shelter for the rest of your life.

If the social circles you move in are very conservative-minded, you're going to be further ostracized because no one else in your upper-class circle will reach out to help you. The menfolk due to like-minded attitudes, the womenfolk due to terror of it happening to them...and make no mistake, it's a deliberate terror encouraged to "keep women in their place."

If, however, your family is much more progressive-minded, you have a much greater chance of them supporting you as you speak up & speak out...and if you can do so, this is incredibly powerful, because as a socialite, you are noticed by others. Other people whose minds are on the borderline of whether or not to agree publicly with you might be swayed by the fact your family isn't punishing you for your "audacity."

Most socialite families (unless they're New Money) tend to be much more conservative and interested in preserving traditions...with the exception of matriarchally run families. While the matriarch could be quite conservative, these women have come to hold power, they understand that they finally have power (which the vast majority could only access after being married & trapped under the thumb of some male for years on end)...and now that they hold the purse strings, they can cut off most of the flow of money to the men beneath them.

So it then becomes a case of wondering if the matriarch will support the idea of women's liberation. Is she too traditional and conservative, or is she open-minded enough to encourage it in her houseold.

The same, of course, applies to the patriarchs who actually give a damn about their daughters and granddaughters, sisters, nieces, and so forth. Do they see the women in their lives as fellow human beings, or as "silly little gits who must be ruled by a wise and capable male" ...regardless of whether or not any such man will exist in their life?

There are records of patriarchs looking at their sons, looking at their daughters, and wishing their daughters were their sons because the daughters are smarter, wiser, and much more capable...if only the law would legally let them be capable without a man "leading the way."

New Money was booming in this time period, by the way. Fortunes would rise and fall practically overnight due to industrialization, mechanization, and advances in chemistry, medicine, mineral resources being tapped, and more. In fact, an alarming (to the Old Money types) number of socialites were starting to come from New Money. They didn't have traditional values stitched to their childhood education like embroidery stitched to their clothes, and with it traditional ideas about traditional women's roles.

New Money was coming from the worker class, where women had to work...but weren't getting paid what a man would be paid, and oftentimes couldn't get to keep their money if their husbands/fathers/brothers demanded they hand it over. In fact, their wages were mocked and derided as "pin money" more often than not. But at the same time, women were making fortunes. (Look up Hannah Elias, dubbed "The Negro Enchantress," who ended up as one of the wealthiest women in the world by the 1900s.)

With a lot of New Money ideas infusing socialite society, Old Money would either be reactionary (buckling down on Traditional Roles), or they would be forced to re-evaluate those traditions, in the face of other people overtaking them in the race to be considered the most important people in society. (One of their most cherished traditions.)

I have not seen the episode in question, but I do know that there were socially prominent women who did try to denounce misogyny and support suffragetteism. The most socially prominent women in America during Theodore Roosevelt's 8-year presidency was his own daughter Alice, who was 17 when he ascended to the Oval Office, and who did not hesitate to offer political advice as well as attend various social functions around the capital, etc. She absolutely had no problems voicing her opinions about women's rights, and in doing things that were shocking for women in the day, such as riding in those newfangled cars with men (gasp!), and smoking in public.

But that's over in America...where they didn't get women the vote for another 10 years. But they had the UK as an example of what could be done, and what should (or shouldn't) be done. Over in Great Britain...well, things were considerably more messy, and women were having to be a lot more brave about garnering attention for women's rights. They were leading the way.

A socialite woman from a prominent family (whether local, regional, or national) would absolutely add weight to either side of the yes/no scales...and if her socially & politically family backed her up, that's not only adding weight, that's putting your thumb on the scales, too.

It absolutely did happen.

[codingprolab]

CSCI241 Lab 8

1 Overview In this lab, you will write a program to read an undirected, unweighted graph from a text file into an adjacency matrix and output the number of connected components in the graph. 2 Git and submission for Lab 8 The Github Classroom link for Lab 8 is available in the Lab 8 assignment on Canvas. There is no skeleton code, so your repository will start out empty. You will begin by…

[jamsbalaya]

i should do an intro for gits and shiggles,,

Hey, my name's Jams or Jams Squared.

POC, goes by any pronouns, dabbling in xenos/neos, and I draw funny lil' doodles from my cave. Mostly of furries and other funny critters my primoridal brain soup cooks up.

My interests are like a roulette wheel. My brain occasionally grips it and spins real hard to fixate on something (that has most likely been fixated on before). However, the most notable ones are mcyt/minecraft, Jack in the Box (the mascot), and analog horror/analog looking stuff on youtube.

I don't reblog often or even use Tumblr all that much, but I'm pretty chill,, i think.

Fun fact about me is that I soak new things up like a sponge, so if you see me liking and reblogging things from different tags, don't be alarmed.

Standard DNI list below ofc:

Homophobes

Xenophobes

Zoos, pedos, other adjacent disgusting mfs

I don't have a long DNI list, like literally just be chill and we won't have a problem (i dont feel like typing it all out, just be a decent person/entity)

Tags:

#jams rambles - general rambly talky stuff

#jams loves stuff - things i like bundled with ⤵️

#jamsquared comics - lil comics i make

#jamsquared doodles - art :)

[sweetfeet87]

Teehee is a great afternoon and we are watching the human news reporter for the next day and I don't think we git before learning cause of lotto death scene execution omg chollie teaaaa bracket note description of Rachel Top champagne bubbles fleas not quite sure but it's sumn Furies ch who's ass are we coming for omg tea pregnant ladies Trojan horses lmao and prior explains why old lady upstairs warmed up to them and M's sterilization background as well as why in Lottos pov she cooled off for awhile and then it immediately cuts to Ryan w and if so how much is the deposit to be paid for the moment I knew you were trouble with it but thats what it is Ryans outfits themselves

while still visual shorthand for gay era adjacent to the memories they will hold on to the memories they will hold on to the memories they will hold on to the memories they will hold on to the memories they will hold on to you for that long live time for you and I don't want you were to propose that you don't have any idea of what they don't have a good time with them w I know that you are so funny and so is your relationship and you have a lot to say the least of what they don't have a good time and we are responsible to have a good laugh at our fall meeting and I will be released to help you with this

[dustedmagazine]

Ceremonial Bloodbath — Genesis of Malignant Entropy (Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

War metal seems to be having a bit of a moment in the underground, and in some ways, that makes a lot of sense. Cultural and political conditions around the globe are chaotic and rife with bloody-minded conflict — what better soundtrack than a mode of music that thematizes the violence and incorporates the sounds of mechanized death directly into its forms and conventions? Ceremonial Bloodbath, a crusty metal outfit from Vancouver, has upped the ante on its previous iterations of black/death on this most recent LP, declaring their admiration for forebears like Bestial Warlust and Blasphemy. The result is this 40 minute-long record, replete with tunes like “Bloodlust Raids of Vengeance” and “Dissonance of Morbidity.” It’s noisy, pummeling and thoroughly unpleasant. Is it what we need?

The answer to that is unworkably subjective, in some crucial ways. For listeners that vibe with war metal, Genesis of Malignant Entropy offers some significant satisfactions. Graham Christofferson (lead gits) and Anju Singh (drums), both from stenchcore-adjacent outfit Ahna, bring their crusty craft to bear on the tunes, with appealingly malodorous purpose. The jackhammer drumming is inhumanly pneumatic, but the production gives it some gut-level punch to accent the hollow, gunshot-like pop. The record’s riffage is effectively intense: “Loathing Swarm” and “Mutilation of Sacrifice” land like blunt instruments — or even more so like damp burlap sacks full of mustard gas.

This reviewer really likes Ahna, and he also thoroughly enjoyed The Tides of Blood (2020), Ceremonial Bloodbath’s first proper LP, which had a decidedly OSDM smell. But this new record is a more ambivalent experience. With so much of Gaza reduced to ruin, with so many uncounted dead buried under shards of concrete; with Ukraine’s military intelligence reporting that Russian casualties are likely clocking in around 1000 per day (and that’s supposed to be good news? With 130,000 Russian men subject to this Fall’s conscription push?); with civil wars grinding on endlessly in Sudan and Ethiopia, while most of the world pays no attention at all—do we really need another war metal record? Do we need a war metal record from Vancouver?

OK, that’s at least a little glib. And it’s also the case that Ceremonial Bloodbath ends the record with a surprising gesture, a five-minute, synthy drone titled “The Invocation of the Tomb of Mankind.” It’s pitched somewhere between one of John Carpenter’s 1980s soundtracks (Escape from New York seems like the right reference) and Vangelis’s work for Blade Runner. Importantly, it’s not as kitschy as that description may make it sound; more so, it’s a weirdo, backward-looking phantasia for an imagined apocalyptic future. It also makes your skin crawl a bit. For sure it’s the most interesting thing on the record, which may not be such great news for a war metal project, which would likely prefer praise for its “brutal” or “destructive” salvos of noise. Well, tough — this reviewer will take aesthetically effective creepiness over indiscriminate violence anytime. Maybe that’s not very metal, but this is a strange year.

Jonathan Shaw