#this was supposed to be a lil thing

[moondirti]

so.. simon and johnny stopping by a seedy 24/7 roadhouse on their way back home post-op

featuring: established ghostsoap. pregnant fem!reader. alluded kidnapping, extremely toxic attitudes. they’re literally delusional. mentioned death. this verges on dark so please beware!

They’ve driven past it about a hundred times, never having given it more than a passing glance. Who would, really? Nothing about it seemed appealing – in all its sun-bleached paint job and flickering neon signage glory – but circumstances lent themselves to its consideration. What was supposed to be a half-day mission ended up taking two, meaning they haven’t had time to sleep let alone eat. On top of that, a delayed exfil made it so they touched down on base at an ungodly hour. By the time Price waived their paperwork and they got into their car, they were famished.

“Could eat the scabby heid aff a dog,” Johnny eventually groans. He’d tried his best to hang in there, mindful not to be a pest during the hours it takes his partner to decompress after a rough operation, but his stomach kills and he knows Simon’s does too. He only receives a grunt for a response, though the man abruptly steers into the leftmost lane, catching the nearest exit towards the place in his periphery. Cleary meant to model an American diner with it’s fading blue exterior and obnoxious banner: The Dahlia

But they’ve been in worse. They hardly take note of the coffee rings staining their table, or the homeless man who’s taken residence in a corner booth (besides the brief once-over in their threat assessment upon entering). No; they just slot themselves by the nearest exit, scan over the menu and decide to order the quickest meal possible.

Only for things to take a sudden turn when their waitress stops by.

Christ alive, Johnny wonders how you manage to glow under the harshest of fluorescents. Dewy skin. Bright eyes, if not a little sunken at the late hour. Still, you smile and do so genuinely as you waddle to their station, clicking a pen before asking: “And what can I do you for, gentlemen?”

Simon doesn’t look at you immediately, not even when you speak up. He’s too fixed on Johnny, replaying the past days’ events in his head. Revisits the hour where their comms malfunctioned, when he lost touch with his boy and had to fight not knowing whether he was holding up okay. He has trust in him, of course, more bleedin’ trust than he has in earth to keep rotating. Still–

You clear your throat.

His pupils shift to pin you under their scrutiny, only he can’t bring it in him to be as severe as he wants to be. Because, while the first thing Johnny notices about you is your beauty, the first thing Simon sees is your bump.

Obscured by your apron, but still there. Round. Full. 6 months along, by the looks of it.

He’s forced to recall Beth, Tommy by extension. An old working knowledge that comes back to haunt him. At 23 weeks, his sister in law’s pregnancy began to weigh on her. Heartburn. Backaches. Hot flashes that resulted in bouts of dizziness. She couldn’t be up for more than 2 hours at a time, and yet here you are.

What the fuck were you doing in a place like this?

“Need more time to decide?” You ask. Patient. Lovely. If Johnny weren’t so sleep-deprived, so in over his head, he would perhaps realise the subtle hints you were dropping. They’ve been staring too long now, unsettling no doubt. Grimy, each with a tell-tale bump on their waistbands that point to their armament. Simon sans hard-shell mask, but still in a balaclava and eyeblack. Both larger than life and practically alone with you in this isolated place.

It’s Simon who speaks up first. “Fish and chips for the both of us. To-go. Cheers.”

You scribble the order down, pausing to consider. “Coffee? Gotta inform you, it’s drip, bottom of the carafe so it might taste burnt too. Hotplate’s all out of sorts.”

“Aye, just the one. Gae head an’ dip yer finger in it too. Might benefit from a little sweetener.” It takes you a second to process Johnny’s flirt. When you do, though, you visibly blanch, ducking your head to hide your face as you pretend to jot what he said down.

“I’ll have that right out for you.”

And then you scurry off, glancing over your shoulder once you think you’re out of sight. Curious. Flustered.

Simon’s attention refocuses on the scotsman once you’re gone, an eyebrow raised under his mask. His partner is able to read the expressed question well enough: what do you think you’re doing? Strict, but not so much angry as it a press for him to think before he speaks, to balance the scales before he asks something of Ghost that he can’t refuse.

“Dinnae look at me like tha’.” Johnny whispers. “Bonnie lass, isn’t she?”

Simon blinks. “Expecting, too.”

“We cannae leave her here.”

Memories occur in rapid succession. Tommy. Beth. The cherubic face they had brought into the world – little Joseph, who was the first he found dead upon returning home.

He considers Johnny, Soap, this force of nature that wormed his way into his life and sunk his teeth into the rot of his heart, fastened before Simon could even think of brushing him off.

“And here’s that coffee! Your meals should be coming out soon, thank you for being patient.”

It’s a bad idea. Horrible. You could have a partner, a cozy home waiting for you. Nursery already painted. Names already chosen.

What good partner would let you work this shitty job?

It’s a bad, horrible idea. No good for anyone. They’re on constant deployment. They risk their lives on every run. You’d be put in harm’s way yourself.

Not if they hide you well enough. Their house is secluded for a reason.

It’s a bad, horrible, no good idea – but Johnny accepts the mug with a gracious smile and you bloom all pretty, hand inadvertently cradling your belly. Little flower, persisting against all odds. Growing from the fissures of broken concrete. Dignified still. Kind. Strong.

So what if they pluck you from your place? They’ve got somewhere much better for you to thrive.

next part

#this was supposed to be a lil thing #oops #simon ‘ghost’ riley #johnny ‘soap’ mactavish #ghostsoap x reader #ghoap x reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader x johnny ‘soap’ mactavish #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x read #soap x reader #ghost x soap #x reader #x female reader #ghostsoap #ghoap #cod #call of duty

[suntails]

toot toot!

#breaking my streak of dramatic af captions bc look at this. look at it. wtf was i supposed to call it. he's tootin whaddya want from me #he go TOOT TOOT on his lil trumpet i fuckgjn LOVE HIM im maxing this card im serious #lvl 60 10/10 no expense is too much for my precious boy #i found a new brush that has this rly soft charcoal vibe and i used it on this whole thing and it was SEXY it was HEAVEN #it was fun for coloring too!!! and the outfit colors are fun to color OUGHH everything made just for me <3 feeling SILLY #twst #twisted wonderland #twst silver #his bunny outfit sweeps like im sorry but its the best card of the event and its not even fucking close #suntails #i did one 10-pull bc i wanted the paint bonus from epel's card even tho i HATE that card #and i instead got SUPER lucky and got deuce and NO epel!!! i couldnt be fucking happier #then my job interview today never called and i was miserable again but it was an internal issue and im now rescheduled for next week #so please dear god pls guys pray i get this job. i want it sooooo bad

[rowrowronnie]

just watched new lil pootis episode, absolutely lauv those scout designs so much

#fanart #art #doodle #tf2 #tf2 fanart #team fortress 2 #tf2 scout #tf2 medic #blu scout #lil pootis #i was supposed to be working on a certain thing but erm.. the parasite in my brain told me to draw tf2..

[after-witch]

Hazbin Hotel yandere Alastor imagine

note: discussions of sexual abuse, physical abuse, afab reader, misogny

Oh, to be in Hell and working for Valentino, who uses and abuses you, who goes from hot to cold depending on his moods, whims, and whatever might be pissing him off or propping him up at the moment.

It's not the living you wanted to be making. It's not the life--or afterlife--that you envisioned for yourself. But you owe him so much money (he fed you, and clothed you, and kept a roof over your ungrateful head, didn't he?) and you don't know how else you could pay him back.

But one day you happen to catch someone whispering about this new Hotel where you might be able to get better? Where life might be able to get better? Where you might get, and the word refuses to even catch on your tongue despite it dancing in your ears, redeemed?

You want that. All of it. Even it means risking getting the (after) life beaten out of you.

And on a rare free morning you sneak out and make your way to the front door and a tiny (cute, but, horrifying) little maid answers but before she can get a word in edgewise, a blonde woman--the literal princess of Hell, you realize--jumps into the doorway and grabs your hand to shake it vigorously and welcome you in with the biggest smile you've ever seen that isn't (for once) tinged with something awful behind it.

You practically trip inside as she excitedly pulls you into the foyer where a gaggle of people are sitting on a velvet couch and oh, shit, you know one of them.

Angel. You knew he was here--Val would not stop bitching about it--but it's different hearing about him being involved in this little project and actually seeing him out of the studio.

When Angel sees you, he freezes, his eyebrows shoot practically to the sky. And you're about to beg him not to tell Val, please-please-please, Angel might get away with being here but you don't have that kind of sway, when someone slides in front of you.

Red hair, pointy teeth, a fantastically red coat.

Alastor, of course.

You're not supposed to talk to him. Val and Vox made it clear to everyone in the studio. The Radio Demon is an "old timey fuck" who needs to fuck off and any one caught fraternizing with him might as well be fucking dead (or they'd wish they were) so stay away.

And his reputation wasn't any better with what you'd heard on the street.

But... he doesn't seem all that bad. And you were already taking a Big Fucking Risk by coming here, it's not like Val would go easier on you if you pleaded that sure, you snuck out, sure you came here when you knew you shouldn't, but you clamped your mouth shut and didn't talk to Alastor, you swear!

"Greetings," he says, and you want to smile a little. Because he really does sound like a radio, the kind your mom used to listen to when you were young, even though they were going out of style. Sometimes you missed that, sitting around the table while the radio played, tinny voices and music playing.

"Hi," you manage, voice quiet. "I mean, greetings," you say, stupidly, really.

But he doesn't call you a moron (like Val might) or ignore you (like Vox might)--instead he dips and picks up your wrist gently and he actually kisses your hand, a perfunctory gentlemanly peck of a greeting, instead of licking a slimy trail up your arm like Val is prone to do.

Can you help the little "oh!" that escapes your lips? No. Can you help the heated flush that creeps up your chest? No.

And if he, to everyone's surprise, winds up taking you under his wing--can you complain? No.

He doesn't tell you, like Val did, that you'll pay him back every red cent when he conjures up a closet full of clothes to replace your scant wardrobe. The clothes are modest and lovely and again, your mom springs to mind. The stuff she'd pull out of her closet and hold to her chest sometimes, because they no longer fit.

You wish you'd worn those clothes, when you got old enough to fit into them. But they were moth eaten and out of style and you'd look at her aghast when she asked if you wanted them when you were moving out.

So you didn't. But now... well, they don't fit so bad, do they? You even look nice in them. Alastor says "you're a vision of loveliness, dear," when you wear one of the outfits he's picked out. And you're not sure if it's a pun on his name or a genuine compliment, but you thank him all the same.

Charlie agrees to set up a room for you and Alastor helps with that, too. Although his help mostly involved changing out the standard linens for something nicer, stocking your closet and dresser with old fashioned clothes, and removing the TV.

You almost protested, but he reminded you that "your old friend Vox just might pop in and see you" and ah, it all made sense.

Alastor was looking out for you. Like he did with the clothes. Like he does with the way he helps you navigate the vague, ever-changing lessons that Charlie tries to teach.

Everyone here is nice, all things considered, for Hell.

It's not perfect.

Sometimes you would like to wear something more flashy and stylish, but what outfits Charlie manages to procure never seem to make it into your wardrobe.

Angel always looks like he's going to vomit when Val calls because at this point you are considered "missing" and Val does not like it when his "whores try to ghost him," as you'd once heard him screeching on Angel's phone.

Angel always denies that you're here, denies that he's seen you, and for once, you're glad he can act well when it really matters.

And if Alastor gets a little too clingy... if he gets a little too controlling? If sometimes he reminds you of Val, pushing and pulling you in the directions he wants, you just remind yourself that he's not as bad.

He doesn't ever, ever hit you. He doesn't yell at you or even raise his voice, really!

He corrects, that's all.

Steers you to the right outfits, reminds you how to act like a lady (something he never seems to do with anyone else, to your embarrassment); gently grabs your wrist and brings you along with him around the Hotel, into the shadows of the streets where you won't be seen when he thinks you need some good old fashioned exercised or fresh air. (If the air in hell could be considered "fresh" is another thing entirely.)

So yes.

He might be a little controlling. You can admit that. Even if he has your best interest in mind.

But every time that little thought creeps into your head, you just remind yourself. He's not as bad as Val.

And when you're in Hell, "he's not as bad" might as well mean that he's good.

#yandere hazbin hotel #yandere alastor #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x reader #yandere #afterwitch writes #oops this was supposed to be a short lil thing

[hikarry]

So, I was rewatching season 1 and got stuck in that scene between Shadwell and Aziraphale in the bookshop.

What if Aziraphale never stepped into the circle? What if the fire never really happened?

Imagine:

Shadwell is lost in his shenanigans, ready to banish Aziraphale to whatever place witchfinders banish witches, and Aziraphale is slowly walking backward.

"Oh, but this is utterly ridiculous." He stops on his tracks, looking Shadwell in the eye. "I'm sorry, good man, but I have no time for whatever silliness is happening right now. If you don't mind, I have an Armageddon to stop." Aziraphale snaps his fingers, and Shadwell disappears, reapearing a few streets over at the other side of Soho. There surely he wouldn't get in the way.

Careful not to step on the active circle, Aziraphale leaves the bookshop and flags down the first cab he sees. The driver stops right in front of the bookshop, and he gets in, giving him Crowley's address in Mayfair.

The last time he called, the demon was home, so that's exactly where Aziraphale hoped he remained. With a bit of luck, he hadn't left for Alpha Centauri... Now that he thought about it, he mentioned having an old friend over? As far as he knew, he himself was the only friend Crowley had, so that statmebt now sounded like a load of nonsense. But whatever. He just needed to speak with Crowley, old friend present or not. Heaven clearly wanted the war to happen, and he had been naive to think they would see reason. The only chance the Earth had of surviving now was the angel and Crowley. He could only pray it wasn't too late and Crowley wasn't gone. He knew where the Anti-Christ was, after all. They could stop this!

When the cab stopped on the street of Crowley's building, Aziraphale paid his fare and threw a quick blessing in the driver's direction for his speed and efficiency before crossing the street and entering the complex.

He had been to Crowley's flat once or twice in the last 20 years. All he had to do was go through the entrance, get on the lift to the last floor, and walk down the corridor towards the last door. And that's exactly what he did, always fiddling with his fingers in a show of the nervous energy that seemed to take over him. They were running out of time. The end of the world would occur any minute now, and Crowley needed to be home. They still had to drive all the way to Tadfield's airbase, and the clock was tickling rather ominously inside his head.

Finally in front of the door to Crowley's flat, he knocked. A few seconds passed with no response, and he decided to knock again, stronger now, but he got exactly the same result.

Aziraphale looked around the hallway, taking a deep breath and smoothing his waistcoat, considering his options.

"Crowley?" He ended up knocking again. "Crowley, we need to talk!" Silence. "I know you're cross with me after our last conversation, but you were right. I talked to the Metatron. And they want the war. As I told you on the phone, I know where the antichrist is, and it would be very nice of you if you opened the door so we could get a wiggle on and stop the Apocalypse." Once again, he was met with silence.

Was it possible? Did Crowley actually leave for Alpha Centauri? He was here minutes ago! He couldn't have left already, right?

Oh, bless it all. He wasn't going to waste any more time.

With a final deep breath, Aziraphale snapped his fingers, and the door unlocked. He opened it slightly, peering inside.

"Crowley? I'm sorry If I'm intruding but this matter is rather urgent." All he got in return was silence. Not a single noise from the demon himself or the so called old friend.

He pushed the remainder of the door open and stepped inside, silently closing it behind him. He looked at the living room, but it was empty of any living soul, apart from the plants on the far wall.

"Crowley?"

Aziraphale called again, now walking towards the office to the left. The door was slightly ajar already, so he spied inside. It looked empty, but he walked in regardless, almost stepping on a pile of goo right there in front of the floor.

"What the...?" He looked down, stepping over the weird substance.

It smelled weirdly of sulfur and...was that Holy Water?

His head snapped to the desk, where he found the thermos he had given Crowley back in the 60s, the cap unscrewed by its side.

Suddenly, he felt his heart stop, and his veins turn into ice. His body gave an involuntary step back away from the smudge, his back hitting the throne as he lifted a now trembling hand to cover his mouth.

No. This couldn't be happening. He would-! Crowley certainly wouldnt-!

A sob escaped his throat as his whole body started shaking.

Oh lord. This was a nightmare. It could only be a nightmare. This wasn't real. Couldn't possibly be real.

Oh Crowley...

Aziraphale's legs failed him, and he ended up on the floor, back leaning against the side of the ridiculous throne Crowley liked so much. Not that he would like anything ever again because he was gone. Crowley was gone. And it was Aziraphale's fault. He was the one who gave him the cursed thermos against his better judgment. And now all his fears were laid bare right in front of his eyes.

Another sob escaped him and he let the heartache take charge, spilling warm tears down his cheeks.

Crowley was gone. The Apocalypse was coming and Crowley was gone. Not to Alpha Centauri but actually gone. Utterly destroyed. And all that remained of his best friend was an unidentifiable goo. Not a trace of Crowley remained.

He hugged himself, hanging his head low, letting the tears fall on his crossed arms and allowing the wretched sobs to take over. He couldn't bear to look at it a second longer. The smell of sulfur and Holy Water was starting to get nauseating.

Well, contrary to popular belief, Crowley was actually very much alive, speeding through the streets on London in the direction of the bookshop. He parked in his usual place and snapped his finger to open the doors of the building.

"Aziraphale?" He looked around, quickly spotting the active circle. Lifting an eyebrow above his sunglasses, he carefully walked towards it, still searching for any trace of the angel. "Aziraphale, are you here?"

The circle was still active with holy energy, so no one had actually stepped through it, and Aziraphale was clearly not in the bookshop, so where could he possibly be?

With a sigh, Crowley turned around and went back to the Bentley. He drove around Soho for a bit, trying to spot some blond curls in the crowd but falling short of success.

"Aziraphale, where the bloody hell are you?" He muttered to himself, carefully scanning the streets, until he gave up, changing his course back to Mayfair.

He needed to regroup. Without knowing where Aziraphale was and without the information on the antichrist he apparently had, Crowley needed to think.

He made his way back to his flat without paying much attention. When he noticed, he was already unlocking the door with his key and stepping inside. And, as soon as he did so, he heard it. Sobs coming from the office. That was...bizarre. Could it be Hastur? Had he figured out a way to leave the answering machine, and now he was crying over Ligur? Crowley almost laughed at himself with such a thought. Hastur? Crying? Now, that would be a sight he would pay to see.

Still, in the name of caution, he slowly made his way to the office, trying to be as silent as possible, when he quickly spotted the angel he had been looking for throught the wide open door, sitting on the floor besides the throne, arms around himself and face hidden while his whole body shook and heartbreaking sobs escaped his vocal chords.

Carefully and confused, he approached, stopping short of the door.

"...Angel?"

Aziraphale's head snapped up, staring at him with wide eyes, his face marked by tears.

"...Crowley?"

"Yeah." He slowly walked his way to the angel, careful not to step on Ligur, squatting in front of him. "Are you alright? What happened?"

He was still staring at him with clear confusing in his eyes, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly until he finally appeared to have found his voice again:

"You-! The-!" Aziraphale's body trembled, looking over Crowley's shoulder and then back at the demon. "You...you're gone!"

Crowley raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.

"I just went to the bookshop searching for you, but when I arrived you weren't there already." Aziraphale shook his head, some more tears escaping his eyes along with a single sob. "Hey, hey." Crowley placed his hands on his shoulders, squeezing them. "What's-?" And then that's when it suddenly clicked inside his head. He looked up at the empty thermos on his desk and back over his shoulder to what remained of Ligur. "Oh, Aziraphale. No, no, no." His hands moved up to Aziraphale's face, forcing him to look up at him, his thumb brushing away some of the new tears running down his face. It burned considerably; angel tears were holy water after all, but right now, that wasn't his focus. "That's Ligur. I used the holy water to make a trap for him and Hastur when they came to take me." He brushes his thumb through Aziraphale's trembling lips, leaning in closer. "That's not me, angel. I'm alright."

Aziraphale sniffed, trying to regain control of himself, but failing miserably.

"I-I thought you were dead. I thought you had used the Holy Water. I thought-"

"Shhh." Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel, leaning his face against his, pulling him into an embrace. They had never hugged before, so it felt a bit strange. Awkward even. "I'm right here. That's not me." The angel grabbed handfuls of his shirt and pulled him closer, burying his face on the crook of his neck, taking deep breaths. "Yeah, that's it. Breathe." He ran his hand through his curls, trying to soothe him. "Everything is alright. I'm right here."

After a while, Aziraphale finally calmed down and moved away, just enough to be able to look at Crowley's face. For a moment or two, they just stared at each other. Aziraphale's red rimmed blue eyes looking right at Crowley's yellow ones; his sunglasses had ended up on his head at some point. The angel's eyes slipped down to the demon's lips for a second and Crowley's licked them involuntarily, before his gaze went back to his eyes.

"You were right." Crowley tilted his head in confusion. "I talked to the Metraton. They want the war to happen...The Anti-Christ..." Aziraphale mumbled those last words.

"Right." Crowley stared down at Aziraphale for a couple more seconds before getting up, offering his hand to the angel to help him do the same. "You said you knew where he was?"

#alas Aziraphale and crowley got away from me once again #this was supposed to be a short lil thing but instead i created a monster #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #anthony j crowley

[triona-tribblescore]

le bae-bae

(Yo-Ho-Ho) A Ninjas Life For Me

First / Previous / Next:

#This was supposed to be a lot more detailed and a lot longer #but i got tired lol #plus now it means that we can leave his backstory a lil more mysterious for the future ;) #Also #HES JUST A LITTLE GUY LEAVE HIM ALONE #i say #you know like a liar #also usagi may or may not be already in denial about the whole thing #whos gonna tell him- #rottmnt leo #a ninjas life for me #rottmnt big mama #rottmnt #ANLFM #jotaro usagi yojimbo #rottmnt au #rottmnt fanart #usagi #rottmnt comic #leosagi #tribbleart #<3

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

come get yer Laughin'stock! get it hot off the press! free Laughin'stock right here!

#biting and ripping and tearing and maiming and wailing and sobbing and flopping around like a dying fish #Thank You to this round of requesters! banger ideas the lot of you! #this lil 'excersize' made my night a lot better <3 #all of these were so much fun to do #the tango one and the winter one especially! #if you dont see yours here have Patience! #im not done! #scribble salad #laughingstock #barnaby x howdy #howdy x barnaby #ive actually thought soooo much about them getting married and how they'd go about it #and each time i come to the same conclusion #on the day of. like ten minutes before theyre supposed to walk down the aisle #howdy bursts into wherever barnaby is waiting and is like 'this is a hassle - lets skip this show' #and barnaby is all I Thought You'd Never Ask <3 #so they straight up run away from their own wedding. hand in hand and laughing like idiots #exchanging rings in the woods and sneaking things from the bodega for a picnic #in a more modern setting i imagine theyd just sign marriage paperwork at a courthouse #and then go to the nearest high-rated cheap diner #hard cut to everyone at the venue like 'where the fuck are they???' #finally frank notices that the ring pillow wally is holding is devoid of rings. where did they go. shrug #actually in a modern setting i think theyd skip the actual wedding altogether #too much money + too much effort #the store closes for a few days and then they show up on monday with rings nbd

[puppyeared]

hello every nyan

fan character for Laika's Comet, by @catmask (go check it out!!)

#made the colors a lil more vibrant #his thing as a travelling magician to revive the arts is kind of inspired by the troupe in station eleven which is coincidentally a #post-apocalypse novel.. they go between towns performing shakespearean plays and i thought it was really interesting #especially in the context of the rest of the book. im rambling #his clothes are supposed to be an old magicians costume.. i like to think he lives in an abandoned theater when he isnt on the road #want to get around to designing his bunny assistant but im still padding out the details #i put way too much thought into this and im probably already attached lol #my art #myart #my oc #fan character #fc #sleight #furry #fur #furth #furthling...??? #eyestrain #bright colors #Laika’s Comet

[guinevereslancelot]

what was with cameron house md she spends 90% of the episode saying she wants their patient to die bc he's a genocidal dictator and her colleague husband says "babe it bothers me for ethical reasons that you want our patient to die :(" and she said "hm maybe you're right :/" but when it comes down to it the genocidal dictator lays a finger on her in an aggressive manner and chase instantly commits medical malpractice to murder the guy and then when he tells her she LEAVES HIM bc boo hoo he's a murderer now like GIRL he killed a man for you!!! he's wracked with catholic guilt!!! he's being crushed beneath the weight of his sins because he chose his devotion to you over his devotion to god!!! he literally could not get any sexier at this moment in time!!!

#girl what are you doing...... #also just in general she did not deserve him honestly he was so good to her and for WHAT #just to be abandoned at peak devotion and guilt and hotness 🙄 #girl get OUT of my way i'm stronger than you #if she cared she could fix him or make him worse but i could love and support him no matter what 😌 #his muder is a part of him and its SEXY #robert chase #house md #malpractice md #i know the actors broke up irl or whatever but wtf..... #i should have ended my rewatch w their happy lil wedding at the end of s5 #s6 everything instantly goes to shit #and stays shitty #chase should be happy fr #he's supposed to turn into house basically but they should have made him the well adjusted version of house #like how nightwing is the well adjusted version of batman #anyway i have no real point here i just lowkey dont like cameron bc of this arc #also her obsession w house is so weird i wish they hadn't made that a thing #this has been a shitpost #anyway she left chase at the absolute peak of his sexiness wtf....... #anyway since this apparently needs to be said its not that deep this is a silly post if you send me hate messages i wont answer #i block and ignore anon hate bc i am too busy touching grass to be rude to strangers over a tv show

[pinkd3mon]

I just wanted an excuse to draw my Galacta with a cape propaganda

#kirby #kots #kirby of the stars #kirby fanart #taranza #galacta knight #i think galacta would look cool with a dimensional cape #and it would be fluffy because of their fluffy wings #i know they're supposed to be an angel but common you cant take galacta bird away from me #im just a lil guy its my birthday #i originally made this for galacta's birthday but i slowed down when it was obvious i was not gonna finish it anywhere near that #taranza is a close friend of galacta knight in my mind and you just have to deal with it #galacta asks taranza where did he get the cape and he's like 'i got it from meta knight!!!' #galacta just looks at him unimpressed #and taranza then admits that he actually asked dedede to secretly ask meta knight and that's basically the same thing #meta knight still isnt used to galacta being not murderous so he won't help them if he can help it #meta knight has trust issues #i promised myself i wouldn't mention meta knight if i didnt draw him but im an unreliable narrator #i think dedede and galacta would get weirdly along #ok im gonna stop bye this is really self indulgent

[myuminji]

dedicated to the audience: me, myself, and I— I finished the discarded sketch

#another idea i had that never goes through: post-tristamp ww who lost vash meets post trimax vash who lost ww #i wasn't mean enough to do it #nah i lied i honestly would but i got too lazy to draw that and settled with this instead HAHA #tired guy can get a treat. meets his partner's adjacent but lil-ify. who gets concerned for him the first thing he sees #breaks his heart even more wondering how his ww would react if he could see him now. and knowing lil guy will also get the impending doom #and we have lil guy who gets a treat to see his partner's hair not the blonde he'd always known and loved #who cries when asked and never gets an answer #sorry i ramble too much this is supposed to be silly but i ended up overthinking it #myuminjiart

[dxrkl1ght]

Hey hey! You've got a new package

uh.. what? who's hand is that? was that part of the order?

oh? what's that?

he's coming for you :)

#i don't know what this was supposed to be #I was bored #anyways #have a lil thing i drew about this gremlin #fnaf bloodmoon #dca #fnaf dca #daycare attendant #fnaf daycare attendant #box #doodles #fnaf sb #digital art #why do i feel like i'm slowly getting obsessed with bloodmoon #choco what have you done to me #dxrk draws

[mawixtys]

You never know who's watching

[ID in alt]

#hermitcraft #hypnotizd #eyestrain #scopophobia #this was. supposed to just be a silly lil thing of hypno with the nonbinary flag colours. and it is now very much more than that. oops #beetlart #cain.png #that is. definitely not the best id sorry. it is 3:26am and firefox is trying to die on me

[sarahinara]

heads go BONK

(inspired by this fic !!)

#red vs blue #rvb #agent washington #agent maine #washmaine #mainewash #rvb wash #rvb maine #my art #(the dialogue in the > < symbols is supposed to b maine msging wash) #i have so many thoughts.... #i love wash and maine sm #platonically or romantically i LOVE the idea of them being partnered during pfl #and just being best bros #wash understanding all of maine's lil growls #maine lookin out for his stubborn crack shot cockroach #ALSO SIDEBAR FUCK HALO ARMOR #i cannot believe the first thing i do after finals is make myself draw HALO ARMOR #worth it tho

[zivazivc]

guess who

I've seen a few artists I like making human art and I got inspired to make my own.

First version was based just on their character designs and personality, and what inspired their look in the first place. Second version happened when I took into account their backstory and what I imagine human versions of their parents' would look like. I don't consider either of these "canon", because to me they're just trolls but it was a fun experiment to try.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming of me drawing little colorful dolls

#my dumbasses 🫶 #ex bandmates #trolls oc #hed #les #dreamworks trolls #trolls #human trolls #my art #Trolls genres are weird and even though I can see them kind of as different human races (along other things) #I don't think you can compare them with real world races/nationalities. #As in I don't think you can point at a troll genre and say it's the equivalent of x race. #For me it varies from troll to troll even between trolls who are related. #So making a 'perfect' human version of these two brothers started feeling more and more like #like a mission impossible the more time I spent on this... #So these drawings are just two attempts #and I wanted to share. #also on a different note #the first les's hair is supposed to look pretty greasy. can anyone tell? (bc a friend said they can't see it) #and i feel like the first hed doesn't fit stylistically with the rest #probs because i drew him first. after not drawing a human for like 4 months (such is the life of a troll obsessor) #but i do love how he looks so i didn't want to go in and redraw him #also i don't have any more motivation for this and i just keep focusing on and picking at lil details #so i'm posting to get it off my hands :P

[hikarry]

Aziraphale and Crowley plan a vacation free of miracles, just for the heck of it. Just to do it the way humans do. Maybe it's fun! Maybe they will have a grand old time! Who knows?

It all starts with packing.

Aziraphale is the very first to regret this idea as soon as he opens his bag on top of the bed, ready to pack. They can only take so many bags because they are going on the Bentley, and no miracles means no calling books through space with a single snap of his fingers. So...one bag is not enough, surely.

"Oh, but it is, angel. Max one bag for clothes and one bag for books, nothing more."

"But Crowley, that's absurd! We'll be in Scotland for 2 weeks! Am I supposed to take, what? 5 books? And how am I supposed to choose?"

"This 'no miracles' trip was your idea. Now deal with it."

Aziraphale deals with it, but not without a lot of complaining and making a list of pros and cons of taking every single one of his favorite books. He ends up with a bag full of them and a couple more in the clothes bag.

This is to say that Crowley doesn't have an easier time. No miracles means no miracling his own clothes, so he's got to actually pack something. And he likes most of his clothes. And you never know what type of events will be around. A restaurant? A play? He needs outfits. Good outfits. And a toothbrush. And shampoo and conditioner, cause he refuses to use the ones from the hotel. And hair gel! Cause no miracles also means no miracling his hair into being in shape...doing his hair every morning will be an absolute pain in the arse, but he can endure it. Yet, when he goes to close his bag...it's too full. Taking two bags of clothes would be ridiculous, so he lays his hand on the bag and pushes down, trying to run the zipper. Nothing happens. He sighs and sits on the bag, pulling the zipper once again, and it runs for a couple of millimeters.

"Angel, give me a hand, will you?"

"With what, dear?"

"I'll sit on the bag and also push it down with my hands and you will try to close the zipper." He opens his legs so Aziraphale can access the bag's zipper and he jumps once on his bag, pushing down with his hands.

Aziraphale almost breaks the bloody zipper, but it does indeed close.

With the bags in the Bentley and both seated on their usual positions, Crowley lays his hands on the steering wheel, but doesnt start the car just yet, instead looking ahead.

"Everything alright?"

"...does 'no miracles' mean I can't keep the tank of the Bentley full?"

"I suppose."

"Aziraphale, I haven't gone to a gas station since I got the bloody James Bond stickers!"

"And when was that?"

"Many, many decades ago."

"Oh well, I'm sure getting fuel in a car isn't that difficult. It mustn't have changed since back then."

"Are you sure we can't make an exception?"

"Quite."

"...is this because of the books?"

"Mmh."

Crowley groans and goes to start the car, but he stops short of the ignition.

"Are you...keeping the Bentley whole with miracles? Is that the new problem, my dear?"

"No." He looks up at the angel. "I have to buy a phone charger."

"Whatever for?"

"Because I keep my phone charged with miracles, angel! And I have absolutely zero idea where the original charger is! I never used it! With a bit of luck its still somewhere in Mayfair."

"Oh well, we will stop at a phone shop then. Easy fix."

The demon takes a deep breath, and off they go, on their road trip to Scotland at very not legal speeds - not for lack of complaining on the angel's side, mind you.

When they get to Edinburgh, they quickly find their hotel and go up to their room. Both take showers and, hell, it's still mid afternoon, so they go for a stroll around.

At about dinner time, Crowley quickly googles restaurants nearby and finds one named "Angels with Bagpipes". As soon as he sees it, he stops scrolling. It's somewhat modern and certainly different from the Ritz, but, Satan, look at that name! They just couldn't not go.

"You're joking, certainly." Aziraphale looks over his shoulder. "Look at that other one! Rhubarb. It looks so much more-"

"Posh?"

The angel eyes him side ways.

"I was going to say classy. Romantic."

Crowley snorts.

"Oh this is a romantic vacation, is it?"

"No!" He slaps his arm. "I mean-! Yes! Just-" He runs a hand down his face while Crowley keeps laughing. "Oh, hush. I'm just saying that one looks way more up our alley. That one is too modern."

"I'm down with modern. Big fan of modern, me."

"Oh, believe me, my dear, I'm extremely aware, but-"

"And! For a restaurant as posh as that I bet we need reservations. And you know what we don't have?" Crowley wiggles his fingers. "Reservations. Or miracles to get said reservations."

Aziraphale rolls his eyes, trying to suppress an exasperated sigh. Crowley was ridiculous. How in all the heavens did he put up with him through all these years will forever be a mystery.

"Alright. Let's go to the other one."

Crowley smiles, victorious, and offers him his arm, which Aziraphale promptly takes.

"An angel and a demon walk into a restaurant named 'Angels with Bagpipes'-"

"Crowley!"

And off they go, down the streets of Edinburgh. They have dinner and Aziraphale only complains until the food is served. Afterwards he appears quite content to stuff his face with appetizers and whatnot all while under the watchful eye of Crowley that keeps sipping his wine silently, one elbow on the table, while under said table his leg pushes against Aziraphale's.

"Do behave yourself, will you?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, angel." He uses his foot to slightly slide up Aziraphale's leg.

"We are in public."

"Your point?"

Aziraphale closes his legs, trapping Crowley's foot in between them.

"That's my point."

Crowley pouts, pulling his leg away.

"Boring, you are."

The meal proceeds with little to no incidents. Just the usual: Aziraphale utterly enjoying his food and Crowley watching him as he is enraptured by the flavors and its, honest to Satan, impossible to look away. Not to mention the satisfied wiggles. And the moans. It can pass 6000 more years, but Crowley will never ever get used to those.

"Angel."

"Yes, my dear?"

"Do you have money?" Aziraphale suddenly drops his fork and looks up at Crowley, mouth hanging open. "Thought so."

"Heavens, what are we going to do? We can surely miracle it, right? This is an emergency."

"Nop. You didn't let me miracle the fuel so no miracling the money either."

"You paid for the fuel."

"My last pounds, yes."

The angel's eyes widen quite comically.

"You must be joking."

"No. No joke. Last bills in my wallet." He sloshes the wine inside his glass, leaning closer towards Aziraphale. "And I bet this is all quite the price too. What do we do, Aziraphale? Leave by the back like criminals?"

"There's no back and we are not criminals! We need to miracle the money!"

"That's against the rules." He points at the angel, raising an eyebrow over his sunglasses. "Your rules, might I add."

"No-! Crowley!" He also leans closer to the demon and whispers. "We need to do it. We are not criminals."

"I'm a demon. I guess I can be considered a criminal at some extent."

"You're being ridiculous."

"I'm playing by the rules."

"You're insufferable."

"And yet you still love me."

Aziraphale sighs and closes his eyes, trying to think about a solution, when he hears footsteps approaching.

"Have you finished your dessert, sirs?" The waiter asks, stopping right in front of the table.

"We have." Crowley is quick to answer, and Aziraphale kicks him under the table. He was not done yet, and he needed more time to think about a solution!

"Are you ready to pay?"

Crowley looks at Aziraphale, very serious, and Aziraphale can feel the sweat accumulating on his hands. Oh lord, they had no money. And they just ate a 3 course meal. I mean, Aziraphale ate. Crowley mostly dabbled on the soup and spent the rest of the meal drinking. Drinking quite old and expensive red wine, at that.

Aziraphale looks at Crowley, then at the waiter - who is smiling very politely at them - and then back at the demon. Crowley raises his eyebrow again while Aziraphale starts to shake. He was about to pop when Crowley snorts and reaches for his wallet, pulling a black card and handing it to the waiter, who accepts it and walks away. Aziraphale gasps.

"You had money!"

"Technically no. I had a card."

"A card with money!"

"I never said I didn't have a card. I said I didn't have bills. Physical money. I did use my last bills at the station."

Aziraphale kicks him under the table again, and Crowley can't hold it anymore and starts laughing as controlled as he can.

"Oh, I hate you, you fiend!"

"You've been telling yourself that for 6000 years and you're yet to believe it." The waiter returns with the card and leaves just as fast. "Shall we go back?"

"Yes. But I won't forgive you for this."

"Ah, yes. You. The one that throws 'I forgive yous' through the wind."

"Crowley!"

"Joking. I'm joking." He gets up and Aziraphale follows him. When they get through the door, Crowley offers him his arm once again and leans in closer. A whisper just Aziraphale could hear. "I have my methods to make you forgive me. Just let us get to the hotel, angel."

Alas, the day was not ready to give them a break. On their way to the hotel, it suddenly started raining heavily, soaking both of them to the bone.

"I don't believe this!"

"A little miracle would come in handy right about now, eh?" Aziraphale sighs and snaps his fingers, summoning a tartan umbrella to his hand, which he promptly opens, covering both of them. "Angel!"

"Hush. We can start over tomorrow. Now, let's go." He grabs Crowley by the arm and starts pulling him.

"What's the rush? It's not like we can get sick."

"Someone promised me something when we got to our hotel room." The angel looks over his shoulder to the demon for a second, still walking up the street.

Crowley smiles.

"And you just have to run to find out whatever it is."

"Color me curious."

They did get to the hotel quite fast, and the first thing they did was peel away from their drenched clothes and jump in the shower. Whatever happened in there is between the angel, the demon, and the white tiles on the wall.

#once again supposed to be a small lil thing but got out of my hand #crowley just had to tease Aziraphale he wasnt having it any other way #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #anthony j crowley #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction