#mostly garbage people

[mightyaphrodytee]

Lol, that was season 5, but…

Holy shit so much information has poured all over us for the last two months, it’s hard to keep everything straight in your head. I broke my shoulder during Scandoval, I had endless time in bed, in pain, so I did a rewatch (I’m currently mid-season 7, and I’m not committed to seasons 8 or 9). Every episode. Every blowup, every fight, every meltdown, all the drunkenness and drug abuse, all the infidelity and accusations and denials and tears. And I have thoughts. For posterity, darlings.

I’ve learned (and seen with my own eyes—Florida Girl) that BOTH Tom AND Ariana had some kind of pact, and I think they both took it seriously until Tom abandoned it for Rachel, that they would keep their private struggles, whatever they might be, OFF the show and hidden from their castmates and “friends.” I believe with all my heart that nobody on the show or in production really ever questioned it. No one ever leveled an accusation at their relationship. Tom and Ariana were like the closest thing to an audience pov on the show. The DRAAAAMA was Jax, Jax, Jax, Jax, Stassi, Stassi, Stassi, Stassi, fistfights and party crashing and cheating and a breakup…! We were barely shown Tom and Ariana’s conflict over having children, which seemed significant when Tom said it was a dealbreaker, then immediately retracted it when confronted by Ariana. That, plus their difficulties with intimacy and Ariana’s body image issues, was all we knew. They had each other’s back to an insane degree for YEARS, because of this pact, and now the floodgates are open, And we know that when Lala tells Ariana about what really happened at that party the day Ariana’s grandmother dies, Ariana had a meltdown and refused to film with Lala, who had to sit at a table and wait while production talked Ariana down and got consent to film. That’s why she abruptly turns and yells for Tom to come join the Lala info dump, saying I’m not gonna do this, so…let’s get him. And he was absolutely stone cold caught in a lie right then and there.

How could Ariana so easily dismiss the certain knowledge, via Lala, who was there at the party with Sandoval (and Raquel), that TOM LIED TO HER ABOUT NOT FINDING AN UBER SO HE COULD STAY WITH RAQUEL. So, like, I feel like that should’ve been the red flag to end all red flags.

And she definitely had her doubts, no matter how hard she rode for him publicly, because her INTUITION told her to see what she could see when she had the perfect opportunity to look at his phone. The photos app I guess, which is the iOS camera roll. What a shock it must have been. It’s like you’re flying off the edge of the earth, right up into outer space, no tether to humanity because everything is a lie. UGH I RELATE and probably am projecting my shit onto Ariana, which I’m not trying to do fr fr.

Dude, if she had followed me she would have known I wasn’t at Schwartz’s WORST STATEMENT OF THE EPISODE CONGRATS SCUMBAG

But every time you stayed out late or overnight, Ariana checked your location, which was always at the complicit Schwartz’s house

So you left your phone there while you went off to Rachel’s?

Because OBVIOUSLY you’re no fucking stranger to her apartment (!!!)

There is no way in hell I would ever believe that Sandoval wouldn’t run to his work wife, in whom he has confided everything, and confess every detail, with a TON of drama because it’s Sandoval, to expunge his guilty conscience alllllll over Schwartz. Please. He knew everything from the jump, but of course he took no action beyond urging Sandoval to confess. For seven months. He knew. These people are such great liars.

Every line out of Ariana’s mouth, in her confrontation conversation with Tom, was poetry. Eloquent, blunt, sincere, honest, brutal, true. That woman! I admire her dignified reaction in this episode while also side-eyeing her own complicity in not wanting any breaches of the wall of positivity that she helped create. But everyone on this show has their good and their bad, and we’ve seen it all. Ariana’s very first episode! Disaster. She was playing a tough girl character, not herself.

Brittany is the exception to that and has never done anything wrong or shady or hurtful or mean girl-ish.

[rebouks]

The first day of the new school year began much the same as any other; being accosted by the hallway monitor for dawdling, having inappropriate footwear and daring to possess yet another pair of headphones, only for them to remember who he was and abandon any hopes of receiving an explanation, or an excuse.

Robin thought he would’ve outgrown his selective mutism by now, but apparently, it didn’t work like that. He’d eventually seen a therapist a few years prior, but the poor man didn’t exactly have a handbook for “strange child who can’t speak sometimes due to other people’s overwhelming head voices but won’t/can’t explain himself to anyone other than a ghost who’s stuck in his attic” so, it’d fallen a little flat. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself; but the older he got, the more he started to think he’d been using his gift as a convenient excuse for some of his issues. Maybe. Possibly.

Much less bombarded than when he was little, Robin could usually tune out the everyday chatter within surrounding minds, though he rarely did. He’d become far too accustomed to being nosy, and at this point it was weirder NOT to hear everyone else’s thoughts. It produced an intense itchy feeling that was almost impossible to ignore, as though he’d miss something important the moment he stopped listening.

As a result, Robin struggled to live in the moment, and for himself; constantly juggling other people’s thoughts and emotions as well as his own. Sometimes he wondered if he’d understand his brain better if it belonged to someone else, like if he could observe it from a distance as with everyone else, it’d make more sense-.. or maybe paying more attention in Mr Fitzherbert’s biology classes would help. He supposed he was still overwhelmed after all, just better at hiding it.

Either way, he wasn’t about to admit to all this nonsense out loud, especially not if it landed him in Doctor Abbott’s office again. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to find out how weird he actually was, least of all a psychologist. Think of all the experiments they’d want to do, all the prodding and poking-.. or worse. Robin shuddered at the thought. No, thank you!

Previous // Next

[omegalomania]

people bitching and moaning about fob "turning mainstream" as if that was never the entire point of fall out boy. that's In the goddamn dna of the band, it's baked into the ethos of why the band started in the first damn place. to be accessible to kids and especially to girls, who were often ridiculed and shunted out of the hardcore community. to be a gateway to bands that aren't as mainstream. to comment on the society they live in, as they live in it. people act like fall out boy "turning mainstream" was some kind of "betrayal" when from the start they were seizing on the trends of the time, putting their unique, unhinged fall out boy spin on them, and shooting them back out as a funhouse mirror. take this to your grave capitalized on the pop-punk zeitgeist that was big in the late 90s and early aughts and put their own spin on it: enmeshed catchy choruses with high-dexterity lyrical & linguistic skewerwork. infinity on high was basically a massive critique of the scene they were in - this ain't a scene it's a goddamn arm's race is a fucking thesis statement on what it is to be catapulted into fame in an industry that wants nothing more than a thousand cookie-cutter copycat acts of a successful formula, and fall out boy WAS the formula everyone desperately wanted to emulate. american beauty / american psycho blended sampling and modern hip-hop stylings with polished pop-rock and pointed those songs back at the snapshot of the 2010s we all lived in: commenting on racial injustice and the freeze-frame nature of relevancy. but even then they weren't doing it quite right - because fall out boy never does things quite right, they're never quite conventional, whether it's wentz's darkly confessional lyrics double-bagged in metaphor or stump's distinctive clear tenor or trohman's inescapable rock 'n roll edge or hurley's thunderous hardcore-punk-rock soul.

this band has always been too clever for its own critics, is the thing. but then, they always knew that. they knew they had a thriving fanbase of largely female fans so they were going to be mocked and belittled and ridiculed. they weren't quite right. they weren't quite so easy to market. pete wentz had to have all his hard edges filed off and cut down to size, skin lightened, literally whitewashed ("i feel like a photo that's been overexposed") to hell and back, even as he was marketed as the pretty boy of the band. and the other three members never even bothered with the spotlight: the soft-spoken vegan straightedge anarchist drummer and the wry, wisecracking, whip-clever guitarist who was more concerned with being the connective tissue than anything and the reticent vocalist who sang the words and wrote an awful lot of music but wasn't really the guy fronting the band. wentz's charisma carried the band, because the rest of them were really just some guys and never aspired to be anything else.

fall out boy is too pop. fall out boy is too mainstream. fall out boy isn't the real poster child of the emo movement. other bands are better. even within fall out boy's own narrative, they are repeatedly ignored, sidelined, and belittled, as though they weren't one of the only acts from the big 00s emo-pop movement to successfully not just survive the transition from the aughts to the '10s, and then later from the '10s to the '20s, but to thrive in it without banking on nostalgia. this band was supposed to be a flash in the pan. they weren't supposed to last and they weren't supposed to get big. they started off in joe's parents' attic because joe and pete were sick of how exclusionary and homophobic the hardcore scene was.

i think it's high time that people acknowledge how fall out boy has repeatedly succeeded where most of their other peers failed. cunning, clever, capable, and hyper-aware of the space they occupy in the culture surrounding them. that they are just as powerful, important, and artistic as any of the other bands in the scene that others might deify at their expense. that they deserve a hell of a lot more respect than they get from critics or hardcore punks who think they sold out. i hope one day they get that recognition. because they've earned it, time and time again, and the more i see people pushing back against that, the more certain i become of its inevitability.

[a-cha0tic-intr0v3rt]

I HAD THIS MEME SAVED IN MY CAMERA ROLL SINCE APRIL LMAOOOOOO HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH ITS FUNNI

ok probably not funni but i had to

i just LOVE osomatsu san and these “wE aRe GoInG tO BeAt YoU tO dEaTh” memes

as an edgy kid i honestly love them so much

[zephyrrhiesfyrian]

I've been emotionally damaged by reading about ofsted xvii again so have some more MTMTE screenshots and file names while I cry about Teebs.

watch dis i do a thing

BOI-

"bro he's dead-" "EXCUSES"

look at that little man go

"check this shit out y'all"

poor bby tailgate

nightbeat has no regard to anyone or their trauma

HE GOT GUNS IN THE LIL HANDS

silly little half-transformed boys

"hewwo i wish to hewlp uwu"

"let me show you a whole new world"

REWIND HAS STEPS TO GET UP TO HIS BED

i want him to rail me into the ground aaaaaa

nothing compared to shady's roundhouse smh

[basil-the-bulbasaur]

And the fandom related rats

[frumfrumfroo]

Can't believe I never noticed before that most of the dialogue in TFA is... kinda bad? As bad as anything in TROS. The prequels dialogue is bad, but you can tell it's *attempting* poetry. A lot of the dialogue in TFA and TROS is just stating the obvious or trite quips.

It's not a great movie.

[autospleen]

So here's this fic/draft/s3 concept. It's waaaaaaaay longer than I meant and I'm never going to finish it. Take it from me please.

---

Metatron was disappointed in him. Aziraphale was still staring at the elevator doors still seeing Crowley there as if burned into his retinas. He felt hollow. 

"I rather thought you would be able to convince him."

"I'm afraid it was foolish to try." Aziraphale could see that now, could see how the suggestion of returning to heaven hurt Crowley. 

"I thought your power over him held more sway."

Aziraphale scrunched up his eyebrows and turned away from the elevator door, finally ripping his mind's eye away from the afterimage of Crowley to look at the Metatron in confusion, "power?"

"Well, yes, it's obvious he likes you. That gives you power over him."

The twisted description of their relationship left a sour taste in Aziraphale's mouth but the Metatron continued, "I'm afraid I had quite relied on you being able to convince him."

The door slid open into an equally white space. Heaven. It hurt Aziraphale's eyes but he felt sick for another reason, "what do you mean? What do you need Crowley for?" 

"No you misunderstand me. It just would have been nice to get him out of the way. He is a powerful demon with a penchant for preventing the apocalypse. Well, anyway, we'll need to get you caught up for your new position." Aziraphale was hardly aware they had been walking together so focused he was on the conversation and the growing void in the core of his being but he was now aware they were in an office of sorts. There was a "desk" in the "room" and it was piled with books and folders. 

"All our records. You'll need to know everything of course before you can officially take your new position as Supreme Archangel. It's a good thing you like reading." 

Metatron laughed at his own joke. Aziraphale did not. A feeling of dread was starting to creep under his skin. 

"Well I'll leave you to it then."

Metatron left but Aziraphale didn't move. All he could think about was the implication that heaven wanted Crowley out of the way. Since Aziraphale had failed to tempt him to heaven, would they find another way to keep him out of the way? The possibilities were too horrible to fathom. 

The hollow feeling he'd had since stepping into the elevator was subsiding and quite surprisingly he found anger there. He felt used, manipulated, disrespected nd he was angry. 

First it was directed at Metatron, and even a bit at Cowley, but he soon realized he was mostly angry at himself. He'd let himself believe heaven needed him. Things weren't right in heaven, even he could see that and the Metatron confirmed it when he implied Aziraphale was the only one who could fix it. Crowley's influence had made him good. Truly good, not someone who just followed along with heaven's rule, and he'd been thrilled to bring that goodness and infuse it into heaven. Make heaven good again as it was supposed to be. But… it was clear to him now that heaven wouldn't be so receptive. 

Fine, Aziraphale decided, he would play by their rules for now but he would win in the end. His resolve hardened allowing him to stuff all the other emotions threatening to spill out back down. Only one thing mattered now: protecting Crowley. 

--

1 year later

Crowley had taken to his snake form a lot more these days. Hell still left him alone. He was sure heaven was planning something but for the past year it had been quiet and strangely peaceful. Unfortunately, Crowley struggled to enjoy the peace. He was terribly lonely. With lack of much else to do, he'd taken to slithering around the forests of the world. 

He was napping wrapped around the branch of a tree when he became aware of a disturbance. The forest quieted just slightly. Crowley opened his eyes and was drawn to the source of the disturbance immediately. His eyes met the intense stare of an owl a tree over. The gaze was somehow familiar yet Crowley was sure he'd never met an owl before. 

They held each other's gaze unblinking for an indeterminate amount of time. Seconds? Millenia? 

The owl suddenly tore his gaze away and launched into flight. 

—

Give me Coffee or Give me Death had become a source of comfort for Crowley. There was always a table in the shadowy corner for him no matter how rarely he stopped by and Nina, Maggie or Muriel would inevitably find him there and keep him company. Despite having more friends than at any other point in his life, he still felt the ache of loneliness. He knew why but he pretended he didn't, or pretended it didn't matter, pretended he could spend the rest of eternity like this and be content. Everyone he knew saw right through him. 

It had been months since he'd checked in on Muriel. He never went into the bookshop but they would meet up at the coffee shop on occasion. 

On this day, Muriel looked about ready to burst, "Crowley! I have to tell you something!"

Crowley had a bad feeling, "is it about heaven?"

Muriel nodded

"Then I don't want to know."

"I think you do." 

Crowley couldn't tell it was good news or bad news but he resolutely decided he didn't care, "no heaven talk. That's the rule."

Muriel deflated but still tried, "I really think-"

"No." Crowley growled.

Muriel quieted 

“Tell me about your-” Crowley gestured vaguely, “Reading progress?”

“Oh! I’ve almost finished his whole collection.” Muriel had learned not to use Aziraphale’s name in Crowley’s company. It was a small price to pay for a friend to talk to. Despite all the rules, Crowley was a wonderful companion. Happy to sit back and listen to her ramble for hours about a book she was reading or a fascinating bug she saw. 

“Hmm, have to get some more.”

Muriel’s eyes went wide, “There are MORE?!” 

“Well, yes. Thousands I imagine. Humans love writing.” 

Muriel practically radiated with excitement so Crowley promised to take then to a bookshop, a proper one that actually sold books, and let them look around. Or better yet a library. 

“Even Aziraphale couldn’t collect them all- though I don’t think he’d want to. It’s more of a curated collection I suppose.” It had slipped out before he realized what he’d said. He’d been thinking about the library of Alexandria and therefore by extension: Aziraphale. 

“He’s missing!” Muriel blurted out quickly. Crowley had broken the rule first so surely it was okay for them to broach the topic now.

“What.” Panic gripped Crowley’s heart but he forced it not to show. His voice was ice cold. 

“He was supposed to fall but Hell never received him. No one knows where he is.” 

“Supposed to WHAT?!” His angel couldn’t fall. There was no way. 

“I’ve been trying to tell you! But you said you didn’t want to know!” 

“And I don’t!” Crowley violently stood up from the table knocking his chair down in the process but he couldn’t move. Of course he wanted to know. His angel, his love, was missing?! Was sentenced to fall? Was he in trouble? Was he okay? Was he ALIVE? “Well?? Go on!”

Muriel looked confused by the contradiction but if they had learned anything from the romance section of Aziraphale’s bookshop it was love made people do crazy and confusing things. “I don’t know all the details, only the few things he himself told me when he came back down to the bookshop once and the rumors.” 

Crowley just gestured at them again so they continued, not quite sure where to start. 

“Well, you know about the second coming of Jesus? Heaven’s been working on it for some time now and Aziraphale was supposed to lead the project up. Well, most of that is top secret so I don’t know much but something happened between the Metatron and Aziraphale. Metatron is…gone now and Aziraphale was sentenced to fall but… he never made it to Hell.” 

“Are you telling me that Aziraphale killed Metatron?” 

“That’s what it seems like."

Crowley’s mind was spinning but really only one thing mattered, “I have to find him.” 

“So you think he’s still alive?” 

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation. He had to be afterall, surely if he wasn’t, Crowley would know.

“What are you going to do?” 

Crowley pointed up, “Open an elevator for me?” 

—

The last person Crowley thought he would ever see in heaven greeted him as the elevator doors slid open. 

“Hey,” Beelzebub said as if it was the most casual normal thing for him, the duke of Hell, to be greeting people at Heaven’s door. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking for Jesus I think? Right babe?” He called behind him. 

“Uh, yeah, Jesus.” Gabriel appeared, “Hi Crowley! Where’s Aziraphale?” 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Crowley accepted at this point that he was hallucinating. None of this could be real. 

“He hasn't found you yet?" Beelzebub asked

"Found me? He's the one that's missing apparently."

"Hiding more like."

"You've seen him?"

'Yes, he came to us on Alpha Centauri asking for help."

"And you agreed?"

"Certainly not! But… he threatened our peaceful existence so here we are. Looking… for Jesus." 

"So he's okay."

Gabriel jumped in here, "if you call that ok." He said scrunching his nose up in disgust. 

"What. Do. You. Mean?!" Crowley was considering ripping his feathers out one by one if he didn't explain himself. 

Gabriel seemed to sense this and retreated, returning back to the catalog of souls he'd been browsing. 

"It's hard to explain." Beezlebub answered, "I'm sure he'll find you soon. He needs you."

But Crowley wasn't that hard to find. Surely if Aziraphale was looking for him he would have already found him. However this seemed to be all the answers heaven held for him so he headed back down. 

If nothing else, at least he knew Aziraphale was alive. It took some of the desperate panic away but he wouldn't be calm until he saw the angel with his own eyes. 

If Aziraphale was looking for him. He'd make himself easy to find. For the first time since that horrible fight, Crowley headed to the bookshop. Muriel greeted him happily. 

"I'm moving in." He growled at them.

"Delightful!"

It was only a day before the angel appeared in the shop.

Crowley didn't immediately notice Aziraphale was there which was strange in itself. Typically his eyes fell on the angel before anything else but it took a second for him to realize someone was sitting in the chair. 

Aziraphale was looking at him like a starving man at a feast.

"Crowley." He breathed the name and Crowley felt like his heart was mending and breaking and mending all over again. He wanted to run to him and hold him. He was still mad but he was so glad the angel was okay. He was okay wasn't he? Crowley assessed him quickly. He looked the same only… dimmer? He seemed okay. At least he was alive. The rest could be sorted out later. 

Crowley considered leaving. Now that Aziraphale was confirmed to be alive he could walk out, wash his hands of it but the stubborn anger at his oldest friend felt forced when all he really felt was overwhelming relief. 

"I heard you need my help." Crowley tried to act casual, "something about the next apocalypse?"

"Oh no," Aziraphale couldn't seem to wipe the smile off his face, "I've got that sorted. Well… Mostly. But that's not your concern."

"Oh… thats… good." Was he… angry that Aziraphale didn't need saving? That was stupid. "You were looking for me though?"

"Ah, no I was trying to avoid you." He admitted guiltily then quickly amended, "not because I didn't want to see you. I did want to see you. More than anything. But I rather thought, you wouldn't want to see me."

"I don't." Crowley answered quickly but he didn't make a move to leave or even look away so they both knew it was a lie. 

"It's so good to see you, Crowley. I'm glad you're well." 

"You too…uh, are you well though?" 

Aziraphale's smile was radiant, "I am." He paused for a moment, "there's a lot to talk about and I'm afraid I don't know where to start."

They were so far apart. Crowley standing awkwardly near the door as if waiting to escape any moment; Aziraphale tense in his chair, not sure how to calm the atmosphere between them. Aziraphale stood and came around the desk. Crowley tensed up even farther. Aziraphale drew in closer, he had to touch Crowley. He couldn't have this conversation five feet away, he needed Crowley near him but he didn't know if the demon would be receptive to touch at this moment. 

He reached out and took Crowley’s hand. Crowley let him but didn't reciprocate. It may have just made things worse, now Crowley's hand was limp in Aziraphale's and Crowley was tenser than before. Aziraphale powered through, "I love you." 

Crowley may as well have been a statue. 

Aziraphale sighed and dropped his hand. "I know I'm probably too late. I should have clarified this long ago. I thought… well I thought you knew. But… I took for granted how well we know each other and assumed… too much. I should have been clearer. I love you. I've loved you since before the beginning. Angel or demon or whatever you may be. I love you and I always will." 

Crowley was looking at him again finally but Aziraphale couldn't see his eyes. He reached up and removed the glasses. 

"I'm sorry." He continued looking directly into Crowley’s eyes now

A multitude of emotions flashed across Crowley's face. Aziraphale could never hope to read them all. 

"I missed you dear." Seemingly starved for contact Aziraphale moved closer again wrapping his arms around the demon. He hadn't realized until he'd been away just how much he lived on touching. Being so near but unable to touch him was perhaps worse torture than not being near him at all.

The hug finally seemed to get through to him and the tension Crowley held started leaking away.  They stayed like that nearly and hour. When Aziraphale tried to drop the hug, that's when Crowley responded. He fisted a hand into the back of Aziraphale's shirt and pulled their bodies tight together in a way that made Aziraphale feel breathless. 

"I love you too." Crowley said, his voice slightly muffled from where his face was hidden into Aziraphale's shoulder. Aziraphale had a feeling Crowley was using this to avoid eye contact. "I guess…I guess I never actually said it."

The bell tinged above the door and in a split second Crowley was out of arms, several steps away and hiding behind his glasses again. 

Gabriel poked his head in and gave a thumbs up.

Aziraphale straightened his vest and cleared his throat, annoyed by the interruption. "You found him?" 

Gabriel nodded, "and you'll keep your end of the deal?" 

"Of course."

"Good. Well, bye forever. Hope to never see you again and if you ever need another favor please feel free to fuck off."

Crowley bristled. How dare this prick, after everything Aziraphale risked for him when his memory was gone- but Aziraphale just replied with a rather chipper, "Noted."

He retreated and silence closed in on them again. 

"Should I ask?" He was dying to know. 

"I promise I'll tell you everything but… are we okay? Are we "us" again?"

"I don't know. There's still a lot to talk about."

That was fair. 

"But first, you should probably tell me what's going on. With the apocalypse, with the Metatron, with you."

"I'm afraid it's a very long story."

"Then… tell me over lunch?" 

Aziraphale's smile was blinding, "OH! I haven't had a thing to eat since going to heaven!"

Crowley gaped at him, "not even a snack?"

"Not even a cup of tea."

"In a YEAR?"

"Afraid so."

"Well, what are you craving? I'll take you anywhere you want. The Ritz?"

"Something more simple I think."

They ended up at a sandwich shop just down the street.

–

Aziraphale became aware they were going to try to keep him busy and find reasons to delay his promotion and he wasn't going to let that happen. 

He read all the records in a day and demanded a seat at the table. Reluctantly he was granted his new position after only a couple of days of jumping through hoops. He started making changes right away. He demoted angels who used their power to degrade others and promoted others who exemplified kindness. However, Metatron operated the second coming plan behind his back as much as possible. 

Aziraphale built up allies and was able to uncover the truth. 

Jesus' second coming had been misunderstood. It was generally thought he would return and judge all the humans, sorting them into heaven or hell and essentially ending all life on earth. This was a misinterpretation. Jesus was meant to judge all Angels and Demons and dismantle Heaven and Hell. 

When Metatron discovered this, he quickly tried to hide it. He plotted to destroy Jesus and replace him with someone who would do his bidding. However, Jesus' mission fell nicely in line with Aziraphale's own. Most angels didn't like the idea of dismantling heaven but it came straight from Jesus, the son of god, practically the embodiment of Her will. Metatron held less sway and the angels' unwavering faith in the Plan meant support for Jesus even if it meant the end of them. 

In an act of desperation, heaven cast a miracle to hide Jesus from the Metatron. Unfortunately, this had the unintended consequence of hiding him from all of heaven. 

Metatron became desperate after this. He tried to take back heaven by taking out Aziraphale. He gathered the allies he had left and waged war on Aziraphale and his followers. A civil war broke out in heaven. 

In the end, Aziraphale had no choice but to kill Metatron. It was a fatal act as even his most staunch supporters believed this action deserved the fall. Afterall, killing another angel, especially one as important as Metatron, couldn't go unpunished. He was pushed out of heaven. 

"You're not a demon." Crowley announced. 

"I'm not really sure how it happened either."

In a second. Crowley miracled them into the empty bathroom and locked the doors. 

"Show me." 

He hesitated

"I can tell something is different. Just show me."

Aziraphale unfurled his wings. Instead of pure white, they were a muted warm white with brown stripes. They were familiar

"The owl in the rainforest. That was you."

"I needed to make sure you were okay. There had been talk during the civil war of capturing you to use against me."

"Oh." Crowley remembered just how peaceful his life had been this past year. Had Aziraphale been quietly protecting him the whole time? His chest panged with regret. He'd been lazing around, moping, doing absolutely nothing but feeling sorry for himself while Aziraphale waged war in heaven. For the first time since he watched his angel leave on a heavenly elevator, he wished he'd gone with him. Damn his attitude about heaven and his hurt feelings and all the other things in the way, Aziraphale had had an adventure without him and it hurt. It hurt to know he hadn't been there to support him. He was so mad at himself for not being there. Even if…even if Aziraphale didn't need him, he still wanted to be there, by his side. But now there was a whole year of his life Crowley would only know from stories and he hated it. If things had gone differently, he could have lost him forever and never known. 

Sure, they'd been apart longer before, lived their own lives separately, had their own adventures. But not usually by choice. He'd chosen to let Aziraphale handle heaven on his own and he thought it had been the right thing because he was right about heaven but he hated himself for it. 

"Is it that bad?" Aziraphale asked, tucking his wings closer to his body self consciously. 

"No!" Crowley assured him quickly. Reaching out to touch them. "You're beautiful. Always."

"Oh." Aziraphale twittered happily at the compliment and Crowley decided he needed to do that more. Like a lot more. Aziraphale deserved to know just how gorgeous Crowley found him at all times.

"but.." his chest ached at the thought of aziraphale falling, "but what are you?"

"Well, I don't really know. Near as I can figure I only half fell. I have an animal form like most demons but I also still have…at least some of my divinity."

"Are you…happy like this?" Because that was all that really mattered 

"Oh yes." Aziraphale smiled shyly, "I rather think I am." He tucked his wings away fully, "you're not…mad?" 

"Oh I'm furious that anyone would think you deserve to fall-"

"No I mean…" He couldn't seem to articulate his thought, he gestured a lot before forcing more words out when Crowley failed to understand, "because you fell. Even though you didn't deserve it but by some Miracle, I didn't. Not fully. It doesn't seem fair."

Oh, Crowley hadn't considered that. He'd never really thought he didn't deserve it. He'd certainly thought it wasn't fair and even that it was a stupid reason to fall but he'd deserved it. He wasn't a good angel. He didn't trust the Plan. He didn't have faith. He'd never in a million years considered that Aziraphale thought him falling was unjust. It was a bit… flattering…maybe? It certainly put some things into perspective for him. He didn't know how to respond. Really all he wanted was to hug the Angel who believed in him so fiercely. So he did. 

Aziraphale accepted the hug happily even if he didn't understand what inspired it. Touches between them had been rare all throughout their history and Aziraphale craved them more than the strawberry cheesecake he hadn't gotten a single bite out of before Crowley had transported them here. In a rather cramped and dirty bathroom. On second thought the hugs could wait. 

"Now, I believe I was prematurely whisked away from dessert." He huffed. 

Aziraphale's return to his usual manner set Crowley at ease and he grinned, sending them both back to the table. 

Aziraphale continued his story as he ate,"So after that, a lot of angels and demons too, once the news spread to hell, started fleeing. I don't imagine it matters much if they stick around or not. As for Jesus, I needed a demon to find him since he'd been hidden from heaven and all its denizens so I asked Beelzebub-"

"Why not me?"

"Oh well," Aziraphale fidgeted, "I didn't think it would be a welcome request."

"Ah," it probably wouldn't have been, Crowley had to admit, "what did you promise them?" 

"Immunity. They want to live out their immortality on Alpha Centauri. 

"Is that something you're able to offer?"

"I stripped them of their titles. They'll just be two immortal beings hanging out in space, not denizens of heaven or hell so they should be left alone."

—

They both moved into the bookshop together after that. 

Jesus was already making progress and, once they learned what the process entailed, many angels and demons were queuing up to be seen by him. Everyone had a say in the final form they would take but the vast majority of demons picked the animal they were already associated with. Many angels were turned into doves or other birds. 

Muriel had queued up in line rather early, having always believed in the Plan and therefore having no reason to fear him. They burst through the doors to the shop announcing proudly that they were to become human.

They were really excited so Crowley tried to congratulate them but he wasn't sure it was a great idea. After all, they were so naive and had no one to look after them. "Are you sure you'll be okay? On your own?"

"No silly I won't be on my own! I'll have parents. I'm going to be born as a little human with real parents." They were entirely enthralled by the idea. 

Well that was better but still he worried for them. He had grown quite fond of Muriel in the time he'd known them. He may be a demon but he decided right then he was going to be their guardian angel. 

So Crowley and Aziraphale spent the next 97 years watching over them. Remembering Nina and Maggie's talk, they didn't interfere with Muriel's human life too much. They just made sure they were safe and that they always felt loved. 

–

There were millions of angels and demons to sort through and Jesus took his time. He sometimes spent as much as a week with a being before granting their final form. Aziraphale and Crowley figured they had a couple thousand years before they had to worry about it, so they didn't.

They took to their animal forms and traveled the forests of the world. Crowley showed Aziraphale all his favorite views. They ate at every restaurant. Watched humanity evolve and change. Spent peaceful decades just enjoying the domesticity of the bookshop which never changed except by being cut off from heaven. They bought a cottage in the middle of nowhere for when city life around the bookshop was too noisy. They danced and went for rides in the Bentley. They spent sunny afternoons drinking wine and reading and chilly nights drinking wine and stargazing. And they talked about everything. 

It was another 6,000 years before they started to wonder if something had gone awry. Heaven and hell were no longer accessible. They hadn't seen another angel or demon in thousands of years. 

"Do you think he forgot about us?" Crowley asked.

They were laying side by side on their cottage roof looking at clouds. Aziraphale hummed indifferently, "I'm sure we could find him if we wanted to…" he turned towards Crowley to look him in the eyes (Crowley never wore those glasses anymore) and placed a hand on his chest, "do you want to?"

"Er, no." Crowley admitted. He was perfectly happy. 

Aziraphale hummed in agreement, "we'll see how we feel in another 6000 years." 

--

End

[turtlemagnum]

when i was younger and hung out around my uncle a lot more than i do now, i remember whenever he referred to things regarding his native heritage, he always just called it "indian". called himself an indian, called the words he taught us indian, so on. since i was a little kid who didn't know any better, i didn't know that "indian" in the context of indigenous americans was a very broad, frankly bastardized term to paint a vast variety of cultures spanning two whole damn continents with one brush. it only occurred to me as i got much older than i was at the time that there'd be more than one "indian" language, and up until now since i had no idea what tribe(s) he even is i couldn't even begin to know where to look unless i found a download of every goddamn interlingual dictionary available and painstakingly checked every godddamn one for what their word for "thunder" is

the word he taught us meant thunder was hiloha. i didn't even know how to spell it until now, because he only ever said it aloud. literally just a few minutes ago, i decided to ask my grandma (his sister) if we knew what tribe(s) he belonged to. and apparently he's a mix of choctaw and makah. which gave me a lead, which led to me finding a dictionary on libgen, which led to me word searching "thunder" in the choctaw to english dictionary. it's the only word i remember him teaching us, and i'm unsure if he ever tried teaching us others. but it was his dogs name, and he was a damn good boy, so i remembered it clear as day. though, they normally shortened it to "hilo".

so, i guess what came out of this is that i now know a bit more about my uncle's heritage, and where to look for more research. so, if you're gonna have a takeaway from this, i'd appreciate it if you remembered the word "hiloha". it means thunder. and aside from being the name of a very good boy who deserves to be remembered, i think it's even more important to remember the histories, cultures, and of course the languages of all the indigenous folks who came before us and did their damndest to preserve their cultures in spite of it all.

[thisisthevoice]

Every serious sketchbook that uses a bunch of different media should have a page where you write and draw random shit to test it. I feel like this is a work of art in and of itself

[winepresswrath]

a thing I like about feanor is that he's so explicitly the best boytm of the story and yet he a) fucks up so frequently and spectacularly (normal, very Greek of him) and b) taps out early and contributes relatively little to the plot except by way of the damage he's already visited on his family and society. Enjoy that for him immensely. sorry baby your legacy is that all of your sons and brothers and nephews and nieces & let us be real almost certainly your sisters have had their personalities and worldviews shaped at least a little bit by your mommy issues.

[munch-mumbles]

ive been a little upset about it all night so i need to write out all the things that happened at work today and are bugging me so i can TRY to get it out of my head and actually RELAX bc i just keep pacing in circles around it instead of just accepting it and moving on

[wisdom-walks-alone]

im so serious some t*m drake stans are so misogynistic when it comes to stephanie brown I'm not even kidding holy shit

[adhbabey]

Whenever I hear that tiktok is full of "pretty and palatable" people and that its not nuanced at all and yadda yadda. I really think of the people I saw on there like this gnc nonbinary creator who dressed up in their fave subculture, and is not at all like the people that others describe about tiktok.

People treat that social media like it's the enemy or like everyone there is an influencer and shit, but that was never my experience. I met very, very real people on there. And the most prevalent thing was people selling their small businesses with resin art.

So. What comes out of the app, all the things that get popular and viral and shit, you don't always see that. I saw so many different walks of life on there, and sure some were cringey teenagers, but most were just cosplayers, like this bnha cosplayer who was doing sign language in their tiktoks.

It's not what you guys think. It's not all cancel culture morality police assholes. At least on my side, it was mainly queer people expressing themselves in a space that they can be accepted in. And I feel like people deserve to know that.

[do-you-have-a-flag]

there is a lot to say about the ethical problems and blandness of AI art but also just as someone who likes digital art because it’s low maintenance low cost to pursue, i think that it’s INCREDIBLY BORING to look at ai art because the creative process is lost

like people might gripe that digital art isn’t “real” art because of the difference in craft 

but ultimately i think each individual artist shapes their workflow to suit their needs and some people are able to do a lot of design work using presets and filters and photo-bashing and generative tools in ways that are creative and using a process that takes thought and problem solving

and personally i like the process of high effort art in traditional mediums and that reflects in my digital drawings, i love painting to render texture and light to an image for example, while i do use brushes and other tools overall i think the actual act is soothing and fun

and i think the creative collaboration when working with someone else’s prompts (a process that can be immensely frustrating when one-sided) is also a valuable experience as people can ask questions and negotiate concepts you might not have thought of on your own. the immediacy of output with ai, the way it flattens composition to the most common plagiarised components, it’s fun as a what if or a starting  point but it is a creatively incomplete endeavour specifically because the ai is communicating nothing and the person creating the prompt is almost entirely removed from the creative process. one sided intentionality without the meat of creation

ALSO for contrast i was thinking about the tradition of fractal art/fractal flames dating back to the 80s but more specifically being boosted in popularity alongside the world wide web thanks to one person’s algorithm in 1992. that guy now works in AI generation but back in the 90s he created an open source code that took mathematical iteration and translated it into graphics in common software applications that anyone could use. as a result i saw so many cool abstract almost mandala-like spacey images in the 2000s on deviantart and people are still making them today. it’s an artform that can only be successfully executed thanks to computers, it i complex in the process of execution but thanks to computers the process of creation is quick and seperate from human effort, the output is also very nice to look at. 

Why do i like this form of generative computer art and not so called a.i?  Because the algorithm for fractal art is pure mathematics translated into imagery, while generative a.i/neural networks datasets inherently require an input of other people’s work. a process that requires ethical consideration in ways that mathematical inputs do not. both use data to create images but what do they feed on? how are they applied? does their implementation say anything about their process or output? 

because as far as i see it, technology is neutral and usage is where the good and bad emerge, the process of generative images is a marvel of technology and how we as people love to create. but the way that these tools synthesise what they are given is a process so seperate from the people inputing prompts i really feel like it’s people losing the most fun parts of art (emotion, communication, and participation) and receiving the worst results of commodification of art (plagiarism, formulaic content, aesthetic cowardice, narrow perspectives, exploitation)

[ishibishie]

i have been thinking about this literally since last year but now that i know the pokemon fandom goes Fucking Crazy during october with their fankids: this blog will be nothing but eirini and finley next month. you are NOT safe. you will get so fucking tired of watching me scream about 2 children that exist only in my head but i will not hear your pleas to make me shut up.

might also draw some more goth stevens too idk