#writing for art

[lineffability]

Wordless, that's how it happens. How could you have put words to any of this? Six thousand years, they have talked. They've never said anything.

So why start now?

Crowley can't bear it, so he keeps his mouth shut.

Aziraphale is reading - looking down intently at his book, anyways. The tip of Crowley's shoe is pushing against his, and he has noticed. The proximity of his lanky form, almost towering, but gentler, more pliable, ready to bend to breezy whims. A soft shadow, but it doesn't reach or touch him. Not yet. Aziraphale grips his drink a little more tightly, imperceptively, holding on to the tangible reality of the warmed glass.

Sometimes, Crowley wonders what is going on in the angel's head. Ignoring him like that. Ignoring the unignorable. He stares down at him, the crown of his head. Halo, rather, no crown. He's no royalty. Halos are only holes, in the end, more nothing than structure. You can look through them, they are no shield. White curls beneath.

Maybe not so holy, after all.

No manners.

Crowley moves slowly, sinking like a broken ship towards the inevitable ocean floor, until his knee feels softness. It's not the ocean floor, not the end of the world. Another destination, a simpler one. The couch, fabric, his pants, his leg, knee against knee.

He leans over him, but sideways. No need to make it too obvious, what he is up to. For all intents and purposes, he is only resting his glass on the side table; the sort-of-accidental-semi-straddling is only something that happens as a byproduct. A by-thought. He can't see Aziraphale's face, but he knows, he knows the angel is caught up in a strategical weighing of procedure, a tug of conscience: the book and the demon. Attention to divert.

You can't ignore me, angel. You can't ignore this.

But I'm just resting my glass, resting my legs, too, beside yours.

I'll make you pay attention. Are you paying attention?

The story will have to wait.

He reaches for the book, first, takes it gently out of an immobile hand. No resistance at all. Only then does he look at his face, at last, but he's only looking at the glasses. Little round reading glasses, as senseless as the halo. Decoration. Crowley pulls them off, awkwardly with one hand only, and a handle snatches on Aziraphale's ear before he tugs it off. His legs settle more firmly on the couch, on the outside of Aziraphale's. He realizes the angel must have moved his legs to accomodate him better. But now he's still.

Aziraphale doesn't say anything, doesn't move: save his eyes. They seek his. But Crowley avoids the eyes.

Aziraphale is looking at him. He is not looking at Aziraphale.

He is ignoring Aziraphale.

But he cannot ignore the sudden intrusion of sound into the hold-your-breath-silence between them. Crowley blinks, pulls taught like a fraying rope: a clink, loud, a thud, muffled, a little trickle, almost a splash. Out of the corner of his eye, he feels the glass drop out of Aziraphale's hand. He only sees movement, not the mistake itself. Not the glass, lying empty on the carpet, nor the liquid spilling from it like feelings. Not the outcome. That comes later. He's only in the moment.

He can't concentrate on the spilled drink, he can only concentrate on the tremble of nerves and muscles he is feeling. It isn't his own body that does it. No, his body is calm. It's Aziraphale who's trembling, though it's the only movement he makes. So still, so soft. What do you want me to do? Aziraphale lets him proceed, and Crowley accepts the invitation, extended silently beneath Aziraphale's chest. The flutter of his heart. The shiver on his breath.

He wants to inspect him, study him, cease the tremble. He seizes him, ever so studiously. Tilts his head up.

What a face. So well-known, from afar and ever-up-closer, too, centuries of drawing nearer, but he finds something new to discover every time, a new kind of familar, understated beauty. No matter how many times you look up at the same night sky, does it ever cease to take your breath away? Old feelings, new feelings, but all of them warm and fuzzy and awestruck and good. So good, his angel. He doesn't need a halo to be good.

Crowley settles a hand on his lips. Soft lips, not chipped at all. Soft hair. Soft angel. Still so pliable.

At last, at last, Aziraphale moves. Crowley can't even see it - not because it's slow, but because it's out of his range of his vision, which is as fixed and immobile as Aziraphale's body has been, this whole time. He can't sway, he can't stray from his path. But he feels it: fingertips on his thigh, then fingers, a gentle pressure. A hesitant press of half a palm.

He can't look at his eyes. He can't do it.

If he does, he might stop. Might snap out of it, reconnect his body to his thoughts. Worse: he might see a hundred conflicting messages in the angel's eyes. So he doesn't. He keeps his eyes trained on his lips, and leans forward.

It tastes of oak and wood, tart first and then sharp at the back of his mouth, as he inhales. Their lips press firmly together. The pressure on his thigh is gone, but Crowley holds on to the face: he is afraid if he lets go, he might topple off the face of the earth. Or worse, the couch. And wouldn't that be undignified.

But then Aziraphale moves his lips, and Crowley moves his lips too, and the pressure of it shifts and the kiss shifts too. Crowley's thoughts, already teetering, tumble out of his head. The taste of alcohol dies away as they find something deeper, underlying, undefinable: the taste of each other.

Aziraphale's hands slowly settle back on Crowley, clutching gingerly at his back and at his hipbone. He doesn't shy away; he doesn't move their bodes closer together, either. Crowley wants to think he can hear another clink, envisions the halo dropping off his holy head, spinning on the floor before coming, finally, finally, to a rest. Only metal, now. A glow dying away. No more illusion or grandeur. Just them.

He still can't see Aziraphale's thoughts, but that's okay. That's tickety-boo. He can feel his lips, his hands.

The hands and the lips and the patches of leg are the only contact between them. But these points of contact are not to be ignored. In fact, they are ignoring everything else: the entire world.

Even sound, or the lack of it. It is still, silent, wordless. Their breaths come strained but softly, their lips make the barest of sounds. They couldn't speak even if they tried, molded together as they are. So close, and yet they could be so much closer. In body - let's not look at the spirit. We'd only be ignored.

No words pass between them. And yet.

And yet, Crowley's mouth is not shut any longer.

The angel cannot ignore that, and opens his own.

[i saw this insane art by @shoomlah and lost my mind, but hopefully not my words. you decide on that. they seized me.]

#good omens #ineffable husbands #my writing #inefficable #writing for art #if you see this i hope you like it #you rewired my brain functions #and now my hands are warmed up and ready for more words

[blueboxbeagle]

By LabradoriteKing on Pinterest

#Tutorials & References #Gemstones #Jewels #Art Reference #Writing Reference #Gemstones Reference #If the original marker wants me to take this down I will

[ad-wills]

#writing #writing memes #writers #writers on tumblr #writing humor #meme #art meme #artists on tumblr

[sylvies-kablooie]

i do unironically think the best artists of our generation are posting to get 20 notes and 3 reblogs btw. that fanfic with like 45 kudos is some of the best stuff ever written. those OCs you carry around have some of the richest backstories and worldbuilding someone has ever seen. please do not think that reaching only a few people when you post means your art isn't worth celebrating.

#i often wonder about how many things would be considered classic or high art had they only received the marketing #how many short films that were made for class could have been the most powerful thing you'd ever seen? if you'd seen them? #“you know the greatest films of all time were never made” etc etc #but like. these works of art ARE being made. it's just enjoyed by a smaller audience with equal impact though #i think about this one furry i used to follow on insta who had the coolest worldbuilding ever. it's been years. #thought prompted by that sketch of nimona from ten years ago that was just for a character design #posted to the creator's tumblr and now it's nominated for best animated feature film at the oscars #and by the genuine emotional reaction a fan comic made me feel. how much work had gone into it. how beautiful it was to me. #idk what to tag this but i hope whoever needs to hear it does #writing #writer #fandom #fandom culture #artist

[yeehawpim]

a comic about fix-it fanfics

#original comic #fanfic #fix it fic #fandom #dr who #bbc sherlock #avengers #my comic #my art #been thinking about the truly dumb amount of time I've spent reading fanfic #i started writing fix-it fic like a couple months ago and I Get It #teenage pim was a dumbass

[mamaangiwine]

I don't think many people realize how much they've been turned into a bunch of casually cynical jerks.

Someone may come to their parents and say "I want to write a book" and their parents will say "it's really hard to get published".

Someone might confide in their sibling and say "I want to sell my art on "x" platform" and that sibling will say "do you know how many people you'd be competing with? Do you know how many shops are even on that platform?"

I know a kid who once told his best friend "I think I wanna start a dnd podcast" and the friend was like "do you know what the word "oversaturation" means?"

Personally, I don't know why any of that matters? And even if it did, perhaps your response should be "Do it! Do it and see where it goes!"

#i am literallly lamenting the world we live in #not magic #creativity #art #writing #creative work

[charlesoberonn]

#ai art #ai writing #tweet #other way around please #10k #20k #50k #100k #150k

[joytri]

#aesthetic #dark academia #coffee #art #books #academia #college #studyblr #light academia #literature #benedict smith #Poetry #Writing #Writersblr

[ursulaklegay]

its so scary to put yourself out there but a SINGLE message saying "hi i loved what you made it touched me in some way" makes it all worth it 10000%

#as a writer every time someone dms me saying thank you for what you do its like no THANK YOU for reading it and telling me #writing #art

[sourdough-seal]

hey i know i asked for constructive criticism but what i actually wanted was for you to tell me i'm extremely talented. and also pretty. sorry if that was unclear

#writing #art #writers on tumblr #writeblr #creative writing #seal hall of fame

[dragonbleps]

what artists dont tell you is that every compliment is actually 100 compliments because they'll go back to re-read it 100 times and it'll make them feel fuzzy all over again every single time

#missy rambles #edit: and art includes writing <3

[burntblueberrywaffles]

[I.D. an edited pyramid graph of maslow's hierarchy of needs where large text covering every section of basic, psychological and self-fulfillment needs read "people online telling me they like the thing i made". end I.D.] (image description by @lemondoddle )

#artist meme #artist memes #writing meme #writing memes #writing #writer memes #art meme #writer meme #meme #memes #blue makes memes #burntblueberrywaffles

[ad-wills]

#writing memes #writing #writers #writers on tumblr #writing humor #meme #art meme #artists on tumblr

[braxiatel]

I honestly and truly believe all good AUs should be a little “”””ooc”””” in the sense that good characterisation involves understanding that changes a characters backstory and circumstances will have an effect on how they respond to the world around them

Good characterisation isn’t about creating a perfect 1:1 canon replica it’s about understanding why a character is different in your work and about grounding the changes you do deliberately choose to make in canon character traits

#also you know art is subjective doesn’t just mean quality wise #we all view fiction through the lense of our own lives and thus we all interpret it in our own unique way #writing #the void collection

[officialspec]

modern au but set in brisbane. is this anything

#TRICK QUESTION its everything. to me #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #marcille donato #senshi of izganda #laios touden #kabru #falin touden #izutsumi #farcille #chilchuck tims #namari #my art #dunmesh #brisbane meshi #americans have all the fun putting their modern aus wherever they live. well its my turn. namari is a caboolture bogan i know this #ive thought about this So much i need to write down all my notes somewhere

[aberrantcreature]

The secret wish is to write a fanfic that someone loves so much they make fan art of it, or to create a drawing that someone creates an entire fic based off of it.

#fanfic #fan fiction #ao3 #fanfic writing #fan art