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#sleight of hand
vavoom-sorted-art · 3 months
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Sleight Of Hand - Chapter 1: The Pledge
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@moonyinpisces and I proudly present Chapter 1 of “Sleight Of Hand”: The Pledge!
Read on Ao3 (with extra Comic pages!)
Early release of comic pages as well as sketches and uncensored Versions on my Patreon.
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“It’s our last night on Earth,” Crowley says, voice wrung together in chapped, rusted parts. “Six thousand years of this. Of never– of not getting to– *eurgh!”* Uncaring of the styling, Crowley runs frantic hands through his hair, mussing it up in tight, torturous fists. “Six thousand years. And it’s a bloody *photograph* that does us in.” 
His eyes are golden, molten in the warm, ambient light. The pulse at his long, taut neck is fluttering like a trapped bird, the skin there thin, delicate. “Hm,” Aziraphale says distractedly, without thinking too much of it. “I’d always thought it would’ve been what we’d got up to at Job’s.”
Crowley zeroes in on Aziraphale, at that point. All of this has been musings to himself, of attacks towards nobody in particular. Perhaps God. Most likely God. But now he’s not looking at God, and he’s looking at Aziraphale instead. It sets Aziraphale on edge, prickles the angelic sense at the back of his neck. It quickens his pulse, settles the heat of his body decidedly southward. But more than that, perhaps most of all; it makes Aziraphale be as reminded of Crowley’s human body as he is of his own, at this exact moment. 
The demon takes a step forward. Aziraphale, a stuttered step back. His fingers are curled into the top of his opposite sleeve, tips brushing the edge of the polaroid he’d nearly grabbed.
“Calm down, Crowley,” he says waveringly. 
“Calm *down?*” Crowley repeats quietly, dangerously. He’s looking Aziraphale in the eye, now. He’s looking nowhere else. 
Another step. Forward, back. Aziraphale licks his lips. 
“It’s all going to be alright, my dear boy,” he tries. He clears his throat, shifts his fingers further into his sleeve. “You see–”
He’s cut off. Quick as a flash, Crowley’s gripping him around the shoulders, shoves him back so his arse is pressed to the lip of the vanity, the lit-up mirror alighting him from behind. Aziraphale’s arms draw up around the demon’s shoulders in surprise. There’s nowhere else to go, no more steps to take. The look in Crowley’s eye speaks of a hunger all-too-familiar to Aziraphale. Reminiscent of meat, of basements, of languishing drunkenly at the end of another man’s Earth. Behind Crowley’s head, Aziraphale has the photograph clenched in one hand. 
“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispers. 
“Don’t–” Crowley’s expression is fierce, desperate. “Don’t say *anything–*” 
Aziraphale opens his mouth to say something else.
*“Angel.”* Crowley makes a desperate sort of sound, and then their lips are pressed together, and Aziraphale freezes altogether. 
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Keep reading
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thelikesoffinn · 8 months
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If you bother me, I'll get my boyfriend to pick your lock and kill you in your sleep.
The boyfriend:
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procrastiel · 4 months
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All I’m saying is this:
Neil created s2 to set up everything that needs to happen in s3.
He literally orchestrated an event for us (much like the ball) to see in the next season. So yes, I do believe there are Clues hidden in s2.
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theoutcastrogue · 4 months
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The Card Trick (1880-1889)
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Bluffing (1885)
by John George Brown (American genre painter, 1831-1913)
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mtg-cards-hourly · 27 days
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Sleight of Hand
Artist: Phil Foglio TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link
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anerianaa · 7 months
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Why is Astarion using Sleight of Hand on my Tav's a$$??? I mean they already spent a couple of nights together. He only needs to ask, 😭 what the heck.
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space-blue · 5 months
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Average midgame Astarion experience
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The goose knows what up because the goose is in on it
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creativenicocorner · 2 years
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The Runaway’s Gamble
☞ What kid doesn’t occasionally fantasize, and threaten, to runaway from home?
In which, while running away, Young Sam learns a few lessons from a few other known runaways
Rated: Teen and Up
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profoundbondfanfic · 1 year
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Sleight of Hand
Sleight of Hand by aileenrose Rating: Mature Word Count: 65k
Dean Winchester has interviewed them all--mob bosses, serial killers, crooked politicians. Next he plans to unveil the con-man who markets himself as Castiel, a reclusive and secretive "healer" who claims to heal the sick in return for thousands of dollars. Dean's expecting a challenge, but he never expected Castiel to be so clueless or sweet...or that he might be telling the truth.
Are you looking for a fic featuring a vulnerable Castiel who is desperate for love and a cocky Dean who needs to be taken down a peg or two? Then look no further! This fic features Dean as a somewhat jaded reporter who is bored with the potential stories floated to him. He's settled for writing a boring fluff story, when a premise falls into his lap: a man claims that a mysterious figure known as Castiel completely cured his cancer.
Dean immediately knows he has an angle for his story: Castiel is a conniving conman, seeking to rob sick people of what little money they have. However, when he meets Castiel, he has to admit that Castiel is nothing like what he expected. Castiel is quiet, shy, and open about his healing abilities. Mostly, he just wants a friend.
Seeing Dean's attitudes and prejudices change throughout the fic is both heartwarming and satisfying. Equally as satisfying is seeing the development of Dean and Cas' relationship, as Dean learns to let go of his preconceived notions and trust the evidence that his eyes and heart are telling him and as Castiel learns how to trust Dean's good intentions. This fic also has a few great appearances from characters like Jess, Sam, and Jo, along with a great moment from Victor.
So if you're looking for a fic to both rip your heart out and then put it back together, look no further! 💖
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salamanderpie · 10 months
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@sleights-of-hand's Mohave and a BOWL OF SOUP for Art Fight 2023
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vavoom-sorted-art · 3 months
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Popping the cherry! (mine and.. others) - Sleight Of Hand - Chapter Two: The Turn
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@moonyinpisces and I are MORE than excited to finally bring you Chapter 2 of “Sleight of Hand”: The Turn!
Read on Ao3 with ALL the comic pages!
Uncensored Version on Patreon!
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All Aziraphale can focus on is hot, and tight, and wet. If he wasn’t already sitting, he’d have collapsed to his knees, too. He runs gentle hands through Crowley’s gel-stiff hair, touches softly at the strain of his jaw; Crowley takes him like he was born for it. Like God had created his corporation with this in mind before getting topsy-turvy at the eyes. 
Eyes that are squeezed shut in an expression speaking of taste, of savoring. There’s tears at the corners of them. Aziraphale thumbs them away instinctively, can’t help but tilt his head back against the mirror and allow himself to be relished. 
Crowley runs slow, worshipful hands up and down Aziraphale’s clothed thighs, fingers digging into the softness, there, giving way to the firmness beneath. There’s no rhythm, here, or strategic focus; it’s so sweet it’s excruciating. Crowley makes a choking sound, but doesn’t slow down in the slightest, brows drawn in concentration, dedicating himself entirely to this mode of servitude. Of prayer. 
And Aziraphale, keeper of knowledge, feels sacreligious. Because he can easily reveal their survival, or he can keep them in death. Suspend them at the precipice of the last night on earth for as long as he’d wish. It’s heady, being worshiped for the power he has but doesn’t deserve. 
The acknowledgement of it brings him far too close to the edge, right along with Crowley doing something particularly clever with his tongue. 
“Stop, stop–” Aziraphale slides off the vanity and drops down to his knees like a collapsed banner, panting from exertion. He crashes their lips together, tastes the saltiness of Crowley’s mouth, his eager tongue. Wraps an arm around Crowley’s waist, bows him back until he’s just distracted and low enough for Aziraphale to snatch the bloody photograph, tuck it into his own sleeve. For a moment, he’s bearing Crowley’s weight entirely. 
Crowley, who seems quite enthralled by the idea. “Angel,” he breathes, pulling back to stare at Aziraphale in unmasked arousal. His lips are pinkened and damp. “You’re–”
“The settee,” Aziraphale manages, standing to his feet with the warm weight of Crowley pressed to his side, holding him up entirely with one arm until the demon gets his feet properly beneath him. “I’ll have you on the settee.” 
“You’ll–”
“Or you’ll have me,” Aziraphale continues, steering them both away. He nods once, definitively. “Yes, you’ll have me. Come on.”
[Keep reading on Ao3]
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and go check out the smut war over on the @goodomensafterdark subreddit!
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sambirdyanim8 · 12 days
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"Man, if you love the guy that much you must have tons of merch, right?"
Me:
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Well, unless you count my TLG and Sandcastle kingdoms cds.
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adinafay · 7 months
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I like to try and pick my own locks because I'm too lazy to swap around all the time. Sometimes I'm real stubborn about it and use a lot of tools too.
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I like to imagine Astarion is just fuming nearby and making snarky comments the whole time. He knows better than to try to push his way in and take over but my Tav's taking so fucking long and breaking all his tools godsdammit.
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theoutcastrogue · 7 months
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"Salad" is a technology which allows humans to munch on greenery, like sheep and goats do, without feeling like they’re munching on greenery like sheep and goats. It’s a disguise tool, a sleight of hand, a bit of stage magic, anything it takes to fool your brain that this is food fit for humans, and not goats.
There are many techniques to achieve that. You can mix different kinds of greenery together, combining tastes and textures. You can add greenery just for flavour (generally not edible on its own), like dill, parsley, spearmint. You can add plants that aren’t greenery, like walnuts, pine nuts, mushrooms, beans, pomegranate seeds, olives. You can, and if I may be so bold should, drench it in olive oil, vinegar, lemon, or condiments and complicated sauces. You can add dairy, like cheese or yoghurt-based dips. You can add seasoning, like oregano, thyme, sumak, paprika, all sorts of things. You can add bread and pita and the like, or other carbs, like pasta or couscous. You can add eggs, or you can add meat. And you must add salt (it’s in the name!). Whatever works.
You can also choose ingredients like an artist, based on colour (red is very popular, keeps your mind away from all the green) and colour combinations, use plates and utensils that look nice, be fussy about how thin or thick you’ll slice all the greenery, bother with presentation and decoration: your brain, mercifully, can be fooled by all these things. Every little bit helps, and if you’re making a salad you’ll do whatever it takes to distract your brain from the fact that, at the end of the day, you’re munching on greenery like a goddamn goat.
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eowynlyra · 3 months
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Rewatching episode 2 of the Musketeers and my heart melts at every Anna and Aramis interaction.
When he's laying on the floor and kisses the crucifix while making eye contact *swoon*.
Constance is so much fun in this one too.
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