#reverse slam

[the-golden-state-warriors]

Road to the victory against the Houston…

[angellilou-art]

"I'm not bad! I'm never bad."

Close up of my frame project-

[golswia]

THE wall slam scene with my reverse gremlins 🧡

[kay-jaye]

aziraphale is pretty sure attempting to sneak a demon into heaven is a bad idea.

forget the fact that he’s the supreme archangel. forget the fact that the second coming is not going at all according to plan—his plan…the ineffable plan? forget the fact that he and crowley haven’t had a moment alone that wasn’t interrupted by muriel or maggie or nina or a legion of demons or the end of the world.

forget the fact that crowley hasn’t taken those wretched sunglasses off since…

it’s definitely a bad idea.

crowley is wearing a cream-colored suit over one of those turtlenecks with a gold version of his usual scarf, saying something about heavenly bees, but whatever joke he’s trying to make falls flat because all aziraphale can think is, i could appoint you to be an angel, you could come back to heaven, and isn’t that the pinnacle of cruel irony?

he understands why the disguise is necessary; it’s the not-so-subtle rub-in-the-face from a bitter demon squeezing his heart into a fist. it’s the prick of unease in the back of his mind that something isn’t quite right, the floor is at an odd angle, that book belongs on a different shelf. at the same time, it’s the you’re gorgeous he’s longed to return since before the beginning, sitting behind clenched teeth every day for 6,000 years. and it’s the realization that this was not what he imagined at all.

“this the one?” crowley asks, flipping through a file laid out on michael’s desk. “supreme archangel, and they’re still keeping secrets from you, huh?”

aziraphale would appreciate it if crowley would refrain from certain reminders. “yes, that’s it.” he looks around the pillar he’s taken to leaning against, waiting for the inevitable repercussion of being caught in the act. his suit is newer, sharper, grayer, but at this rate, all the worrying his thumbs have been doing to the fabric of the jacket is bound to have him looking his normal self. he supposes crowley sees something similarly foreign whenever he looks at him.

“wait, these are—”

“i know.”

crowley’s frown deepens as he rummages through the papers and documents and photos that aziraphale spent so long staring at, debating if coming back to beg crowley for help was worth the knife wounding his pride, and whether crowley would simply twist it instead and tell him to fuck off.

(he did, at first.)

too many things on the tip of his tongue—another apology, a frustrated yell, the heavy memory of crowley.

“you were right,” he settles with a sigh.

the demon pauses, considers him, then closes the vanilla folder, dragging the projected holograms back into the file. aziraphale braces for an “i told you so” or the self-deprecating laughter that’s made an increased appearance in wake of his leaving. the damn sunglasses render his expression unreadable, a book aziraphale regarded himself as an expert on, but now he isn’t so sure he’d ever gotten the words right to begin with.

then crowley is smiling at him. no sneer, no malice. crowley’s smile is small, two parts sad and muted expectations, and aziraphale feels like he’s being offered something important, more than a title, more than a job, more than the opportunity to fix the unfixable, though he certainly tried, and he’ll be damned before he lets it go. it’s still angry, but it’s so much realer than anything aziraphale has felt up here for months, and aziraphale knows. he knows they need to talk, and even if they’re just as irreparable as heaven and the whole system, he knows which one he’ll be devoted to mending.

“can i get that in dance form?”

and suddenly aziraphale knows what it is to soar without wings.

he doesn’t get the chance to respond before michael’s approaching voice sends him into a panic. aziraphale hopes the click of heels on white porcelain tile will drown out the sound of their own shuffling as he lunges for crowley, who just manages to grab the file they came for, and pulls him around the pillar.

there aren’t many good hiding places in heaven. why would there be? it’s supposed to reflect truth and dispel lies. the good thing about being an archangel, however, is the ability to alter heaven’s layout, although minutely. you want a desk? there. you want to lengthen the hallway from uriel’s office to yours? done. you want a slightly darker corridor leading into the wall a few feet to the left of michael’s desk? aziraphale does.

he almost shushes crowley’s quiet yelp of surprise when he frantically presses the demon into the alcove out of sight, and aziraphale feels the punched-out exhale more than he actually hears it.

it’s deja vu. they’re back in tadfield manor except crowley’s holding a folder containing plans for judgment day trapped between them, and aziraphale’s the one with his hands clutching lapels like they might leave with another stinging don’t bother. the moment is dangerously loaded because fuck, aziraphale has no idea where crowley’s sunglasses got thrown in his haste, and crowley’s looking at him, really looking at him, without dark lenses to hide the way his eyes flicker down or the split-second fear that flashes across them.

aziraphale is crushing their chests together, and crowley is caving under him, and jesus isn’t here yet, but there wouldn’t have been room for him anyway.

“angel,” crowley breathes, and aziraphale knows it’s a slip of the tongue because crowley hasn’t called him that since they last parted ways.

aziraphale’s mind is a constant loop of yellow, yellow, yellow, and it takes every ounce of remaining self-control in his body not to lean forward and do what he should’ve done months ago. he doesn’t have quite enough left to pull back though, so he’s stuck on the verge of never knowing how to ask for what he wants, always too good at backtracking for their own safety, afraid to do it now because he really thought last time was the last time, and he doesn’t know if crowley can take another rejection.

aziraphale doesn’t know if he can either.

any sound of michael has disappeared.

aziraphale reckons this is the part where he’s supposed to say something like, “i’m not nice. nice is a four-letter word.” aziraphale reckons crowley might even agree with him. he doesn’t feel nice; all these millennia of you go too fast for me, crowley, and i don’t even like you.

their noses bump as crowley shifts his head. “aziraphale,” he says. it makes the angel want to cry. “‘s alright.”

so crowley’s catching the bullet this time, and that’s all it takes for aziraphale’s grip to loosen. he steps back—all too familiar a motion—and watches the demon smooth himself out.

“crowley, i—”

“nah,” he interrupts, waving the file in his hands. “talk later, remember?”

aziraphale relaxes, wonders what miracle gave him this and who performed it, wonders which stars aligned and whether crowley knew about them. the angel nods.

neither speaks again until the elevator doors are closing and the angel disguise has fallen away.

crowley, in all of his too-tight pants and infinite patience, doesn’t even look at aziraphale when he says, “dance later, too.”

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Never Say Die [3]

Part one | part two | you are here | part four

Steve wobbles into the room, as expected its just as bare as the rest of the house. There weren’t even curtains on the window yet. The bed was barely put together, Steve’s guess was Hopper quickly put the bed frame together the night before just so him and Joyce could sleep on a proper bed. He wobbles next to the adult a bit as he faintly hears everyone’s voices from the living room. Not a shocker there. They were all bound to start talking about how or where he came from sooner or later. His hair is deflated, he catches a glimpse of his reflection from a fully body mirror that was only propped up against the corner. Not properly nailed into the wall. He can’t help but imagine Joyce using it to get ready for dinner dates.

Hopper pretty much carry’s him the rest of the way. Squatting down a bit to help him lay down. “You good kid?” He asks. His voice is gruff, and Steve could tell that within the six months he’s been gone Jim Hopper was one of the numerous things that changed. He seemed light, like he wasn’t carrying the world as heavily as he used to on his shoulders. There were worry marks permanently etched into his forehead, but that was like a birth mark for the man. The guy was a worrier. And he had every right to be.

Steve nods his head with a pained grunt. Flopping himself back carefully into the pillows that were placed purposely on the bed. He huffs a bit more as he gets his body situated. Barely able to keep his eyes open all of a sudden. “Yeah- sorry I think the jet lag is hitting. I haven’t slept longer then two hours since-“ he pauses. Not finishing his sentence. Hesitating in a sense. He frowns, changing the subject with ease. “Are you sure you’re okay with me sleeping in your guys bed?” He didn’t want to be a bother.

Before Hopper can answer Joyce is walking in with fresh clothes. The ones Steve were wearing have been on his back for a few days now. To concerned to get back home to go clothes shopping. “Robins going to go and get you some fresh clothes. Figured she could bring them over tomorrow after she heads home for the night.” Joyce rambles a bit. “Though you’re fine. You just came back from a war that none of us even knew existed. You deserve rest.” She smiles sweetly.

Steve still feels guilty but nods anyway. Putting on his best smile as he runs a hand through his hair. Feeling disgusting, he was definitely going to beg them to allow him to take a shower later. “Ok- but where will you guys sleep?” He asks defeated.

“Out in the living room, not like we haven’t slept on a floor before.” Joyce laughs gently. “Or Hopper will get the recliner in and he can sleep there while I sleep on the couch.” She hums gently.

“Absolutely not, we have a blow up mattress. I’ll get it situated once the kids are gone.” Hopper grumbles, Joyce looks smug as if she knew that already. As if she was messing with the other man. Steve laughs softly, unable to help himself. Moving and curling up ready to pass out. Dozing off within seconds, the slight migraine he had earlier kicked his ass.

When he wakes up, he doesn’t even realize he fell asleep. Quickly sitting up in the bed with heavy breathes. Unsure where he was. Pulling his shirt off from his sweaty body was the first sign of business. He felt like if he left it on any longer he was going to die from heatstroke. Turning his head, he glances out the window. Panic dissolving as he remembers where he was. He was at Joyce’s place, with not one single Russian in sight. He was safe. He moves rolling out of the bed. Rubbing his face as he glances to the side seeing that it was nearly three in the afternoon. If there was a word for over over sleeping that would be exactly what he just did. Groaning he turns around rubbing his face, leaving his back to the door for a second.

He hears the door creak open and he’s stiffening up as he quickly turns on his heels. But apparently not fast enough, as Robin stands in the door way holding a pile of clothes. Mouth wide open. He quickly moves tossing a shirt back over his body. Hiding the numerous scars, bruises, and the one tattoo that he got tied down to receive. His heart races as he awkwardly folds his arms around his chest. Unable to look at the other, not wanting to see the glossy look in her eyes. “What did they do to you?” Her voice is shaky. She’s frozen in her spot.

Steve takes a deep breathe as he walks forward. Moving his hands out to hold hers, that we’re currently holding a old pair of clothes. He meets her eye, “Robin - you don’t want to know.” He says. Seconds after he says the last word, she’s hugging him tightly. Crying all over again.

“I’m so sorry Steve. I should have been more help,” she’s fully sobbing again. Steve winces a bit taking a mental note to never get shirtless in front of the group ever again. He moves a hand gently to rub her back. Kissing her head.

“No- Robbie. You did everything you could’ve. You’re fine. Nothing you could have done could’ve prevented this from happening.” He says softly. Carefully rocking her back and forth. Before he hums, “now. I know you want to hug me but I’m sure that I smell like literal shit right now:” he laughs.

Robin sniffles a bit more, “you kind of do. But you now also have snot all over your shirt it that makes you feel any better:” her laughs are a bit muffled and god did Steve miss this. He hums gently as he plays with her hair a bit.

“Ewww.” Steve pretend to gag before he smiles softly down at her when she pulls back to look up at him. “You’re fine. Now I’m going to go shower, and when I come out I expect you to catch me up on everything.” He grins as he takes the clothes from her hands. Moving to go shower. Grabbing soap from Joyce before hand.

******

Steve expected for everyone to get over the shock value of him being back a lot sooner. It had been agreed upon that he would be hiding out in Joyces and Hoppers home until they figured out what the cover story was for Steve being alive. After all the entire town believed he had died in the star court mall fire. Though, every time someone came over it was like more tears were greeting him then words. Especially from Robin who has definitely been the more emotional one. Clinging to him for dear life.

Dustin on the other hand, seemed a bit more skeptical. Before he was moving and gripping onto Steve for dear life. Right before trading him a new pile of comics. All of the new releases that he had missed since he had been gone. Steve had moved from Joyce and Hoppers room. Refusing to stay in there any longer, and found himself sleeping in a guest room. What was awkward, was living under the same roof with your ex girlfriends boyfriend. Sure. Steve had quickly come to terms with what happened at the prison. But it still stung a bit.

He didn’t have feelings for Nancy any more. Quickly recognized and came to terms with that when he realized that it was Robin’s and Dustin’s faces that pulled him through the every torturous day at the prison. What had once been Nancy’s face pulling him through traumatizing times was now replaced with those who he’s loved way more then he has ever loved Nancy. It was a platonic love, one that he recognized that he was willing to die for if it meant keeping Dustin and Robin safe. Which he literally did.

Near death experiences and a lot of time alone in a cell, Steve learned that there was a lot more important things then a high-school sweetheart who probably never loved him back. He wasn’t sure. What he did know was that Robin Buckley and Dustin Henderson were the two keys to his heart. And both equally the most hugest dumbasses he’s ever met.

“Wait? You’re telling me you went on top of a fucking trailer and had a whole concert to distract the bats? And you- you went into the loony bin with a psychotic murderer to do a interview?” Steve asks. Trying to wrap his brain around the story Dustin and Robin were telling him. Next to Dustin was Eddie. Who had driven him here, and Steve wasn’t the jealous type but it seemed like the guy kind of took his place when he was gone. Though rationally, he knew he was being dramatic. He definitely owed the guy a thank you for saving the little shits life.

Eddies clapping his hands, a wide grin on his face. “You’ve finally got caught up. After that Vecna was killed and well- this little shit broke his ankle in the process of saving my ass.” He laughs. Moving and looking down at Dustin with a tight smile. A pained one. One that Steve recognized all to well.

“Well-” Steve says with a chuckle. Shaking his head. “I definitely need a drink after that.” He jokes. Moving to stand up and head to the kitchen. Relieved when Dustin and Robin don’t automatically hop up to chase his heels. He’s sure if they kept at it he was going to have to surgically remove them both from his ass.

He moves to the fridge. Pouring himself a cup of lemonade. Carefully sipping on it. No alcohol was in the house, or else he might have done a shot to recover from what ever the fuck he just heard. He leans on the counter, looking down. He really should have been here. His brain is going a mile per minute, and he’s overwhelmed again. Moving to his ear he shuts the aid off, needing a moment to not listen. Focused on his breathing. It was growing more difficult for him to talk about the upside down with them and hold his secrets about what had happened to him.

But it was better none of them knew. That’s what he was convinced of. If he couldn’t protect them from the horrors they had faced here, he would protect them from the horrors that surrounded him.

One tap on his shoulder and his body is moving faster then his brain can think. Body slamming whoever touched him against the counter. His eyes grow wide when he realizes what he had just done. Seeing Eddie wincing, hand moving to hold the back of his head from where it caught on one of the shelves. Steve steps back, quickly turning his ear back on.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. It’s just- I’m just- fuck. I had my hearing aid off and I kind of freaked.” He rambles apologies out. Hands shaking as Eddie watches him carefully.

“You know, that’s exactly how I had been when I was on the run. Always jumpy, scared, ready to to do anything to survive.” Eddie says gently.

Steve looks confused, trying to see what the other was getting out. “What I’m trying to say is, you’re brain is still on survival mode. It’s okay. I understand.” Eddie laughs. Hesitantly patting the others shoulder. “If you met me when I was on the run, I’m sure I would have body slammed you at least once as well.” Eddie admits before he smiles reassuringly. Seemingly a little awkward as well.

“Um- I’m going to just.” He says awkwardly. Moving and leaving Steve alone in the kitchen once more.

And shit. Steve really feels like a whole new level of fucked up compared to what were also very messed up kids.

Ngl I just came up with a idea for the next part 😭 I’m really enjoying writing these, and having them a bit smaller then what I normally write. (Which I hope you guys don’t mind. Normally I write longer parts but with my week being stressful lmao but if you guys do mind I can make a attempt at making them longer) that and I have a busy day tomorrow I figured why not post this a bit early. I’ll try getting the next part up tomorrow but I’m unsure.

Tag list; (let me know if you want to be added, I added everyone who wanted to be tagged :) if you don’t want to be on the list let me know I’m knew to making them)

@totallynotagoraphobic @flustratedcas @shunna @spookednsaucy @steddie-as-they-go @estrellami-1 @xxbottlecapx @gregre369 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thing-a-ling @radioactiveartz @bestwifehaver @idkwwhatimmdoiing @goodolefashionedloverboi @bringmethelow @thescribblerdragon @starman-jpg @lilaclilyroses @resident-gay-bitch @wolfscreations @adhdsummer @victor-thee-corvid @happymediummm @decadentworld @sidebarre @foundintheshallows @jamieweasley13 @yellowdevilkitten @catlovesfandoms @gryffindorsareidiots @thephantomhood @vampireinthesun @awkwardgravity1 @itsall-taken @gezell-igg @chaoskiro @daeb820 @liketheocean @croatoan-like-its-hot @malicia62 @thebrazilianatheist @anaibis @evix-syne666 @an-deeznutz @yikes-a-bee @0o-queendean-o0 @alyelf @starlight-archer @weirdandabsurd42 @zerokrox-blog @lolawonsstuff @mightbeasleep @michael-the-angelo

[1emonzaide]

Father-daughter dance.. 🎼

[cheeseplants]

Ecstasy of Eden: Chapter three

OMG it's Chapter three. It's Venice Carnival, and what's that - a Reverse Wall Slam while masked?! Feelings bubbling up! A Crowley POV?!

We're round three of five times they used sex pollen, and one time they didn't.

Aziraphale tries to stop the spread of lust at carnival, and gets more than he bargained for. CW/TW: Semi-public sex, sex pollen, dubcon kissing.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale stumbled back with a spooked look in his eyes, and his rosy cheeks momentarily paled. “I, oh.” He swayed backward, and Crowley instinctively leapt forward catching him in his arms.

"Angel, you need to take it easy on that stuff. They probably made it in their nonna’s bathtub.”

“I think I might have found what I was looking for.” Aziraphale's eyes bored into Crowley. “Oh, it’s hot. Are you hot?”

“Here, get some air.” Crowley nudged Aziraphale's mask up.

“Mmmm… yes.” He gave a woozy grin as his thumbs brushed along Crowley’s cheeks.

“You look so wonderful in the moonlight.”

“Angel, you are drunk. Come on, time to sober -”

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley by his collar and smashed him hard against the pillar. Stone dust clouded around their heads, and the shock sent tremors all down Crowley’s body . What the? Aziraphale's hands pressed into his shoulders, thumbs digging into the edges of his collarbone.

“Ngk!”

Aziraphale’s pupils grew, and Crowley saw his gaze falling onto his lips. The sweet taste of the wine mingled in his mouth as Aziraphale pressed their mouths together. Heat burst inside Crowley as he dug his fingers into the pillar behind, grit scraping under his nails.

To be continued on AO3 here.

Start from the Beginning (and I mean the Beginning).

Thanks again to my wonderful pocket pals at @goodomensafterdark and to @adverbian, @voluptatiscausa, @malachitegrey again for the High Sex Pollen Event! AND HUGE thanks to @fuzzygoblin for agreeing to read this chap completely out of order! Your notes always make stuff better. And to my darling @happynachohologram for giving me the absolute boost I need every time. I would never get through this without you!

[shima-draws]

Shut up shut UP I’m FINE this didn’t make me emotional,

[sk3tch404]

SHARKY GODDAMN BOSHAW JUST SLAMMED INTO THE WOMAN I WAS GETTING A SIDE MISSION FROM WITH HIS FUCKING CAR. AND NOW I HAVE TO WAIT TILL SHE RESPAWNS.

Never let anyone related to the Drubmans control a vehicle near you EVER. That goes specifically to Hurk.

[kyaikoo]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼Send this flower to 10 (or more 🤗) mutuals to let them know you love them 🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

[deus-ex-mona]

goodnight~~~~~~~~~~

[arcadiii]

Hi did you know that Arcadi is one of the coolest people ever and a good friend and I hope they have a good day

why did I get attacked like this what the heck

[atragicallycrispydude]

This is the funniest fucking mechanic in the game all coherent thoughts in my brain are just thrown out the window upon 3... 2... 1... DANGER!

[weidli]

[ID: an edited version of the Jenny Slate "I had to unfollow NASA" meme from Drunk History. the edited caption of image 1 is "I had to stop watching Außer Gefecht because it made me too crazyyy.", image 2: "It would just be like, So war das nicht gemeint, mit den getrennten Wegen.", image 3: "And I was like: (in caps) *screams*." /end ID]

this post is a lie i have not and will not stop watching außer gefecht

[muirneach]

in a stunning turn of events. the subway just went backwards

[glampire-rockstar]

My idol is all ELITE!! CONGRATS TO SARAYA!! YOU DESERVE ALL THE CHEERS AND SCREAMS CAUSE YOU'RE BACK IN YOUR HOUSE!