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thursdayinspace · 19 hours

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every time I get an email from ao3 telling me somebody left a comment on one of my fics, every time I see that somebody reblogged something I wrote on tumblr, my day improves instantly. every time it makes me feel that I want to keep going. so I just want to say this to all of you who comment and reblog: I hope you know how important you are.

stories, art, meta -- those things aren't created in a vacuum. they are part of an ongoing conversation between the material, the fic/meta writers and artists, and the people who interact with what they read and see. and that's not just true for art and all forms of writing. the whole world is a big, intertextual web made of billions of voices. we react to each other and that's how we create community and art.

every time you react to something you've enjoyed, you contribute to that conversation. every time you do that in a positive way, you tell the writer or artist "I hear you and I care enough to respond." even if it's nothing more than "I love this." it means artists and writers know their voices aren't just being swallowed up by the great big void. it encourages people to keep expressing their takes on the conversation that is art and writing. it means we all get to have more of it.

all of this to say: commenters and rebloggers, you are superstars. thank you. I love you.

#on fandom #writing #I mean it #we're all in this together #it only works if we support each other

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onceuponapuffin · 9 hours

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Fanatic Intervention Part 7!!!

Beginning|| Previous || Next

It will not surprise you at all, dear Reader, to learn that Aziraphale keeps very little in his kitchen cupboards. There is no stove or oven, and the only thing in the fridge is milk (for his tea no doubt). When you start opening cupboards, you find one pack of custard creams, and a second one of chocolate digestives. Well, it will have to do. You find yourself a small plate and fill it half and half before heading back into the shop just in time to say goodbye to Anathema and Newt.

As they leave, you turn to the supernatural entities in the room.

“So,” You say, “If we’re going to the States, then we have a few problems. First, I don’t have my passport or any ID at all, so airport security is going to be fun. Second, I have no money. Third, I’m gonna need a Walmart or something because I don’t even have a toothbrush, my dudes. Fourth, these,” You indicate the cookies, “are fine for a snack, but overall they’re not gonna cut it.”

“You just leave the airport security to us,” Aziraphale replies. You make a note that he glided right past ‘my dudes,’ they’re getting used to you already. Dammit. “As for the rest of it,” Aziraphale continues, “I suppose a trip to Tesco’s is in order.”

Crowley produces a shiny black credit card from nowhere and hands it to you. “We’ll take the Bentley,” he says. He starts to stand, but you shake your head.

“Nuh-uh, you both stay here,” You say. Crowley raises his eyebrow.

“You realize we can take care of ourselves,” he says, “We’ve been doing it for a few millennia.”

“I’m not talking about that,” You say, “Look, what we’re going into is really dangerous. And I know that your pattern is to just wait to talk about things until you’re in the clear, but that’s not a good idea anymore. I mean, I get that I’m not exactly an expert, but I read just as much as you do and I’ve heard a million stories by this point in my life, and in NONE of them do people ever say ‘I’m so glad I never told them how I feel’ - you know? It’s always ‘I wish I would have’ or ‘I should have told them every day.’ So Muriel and I will go ask Maggie to take us to Tesco, and you two need to talk. Please. While it’s safe, while you have the chance, before things get dangerous and possibly deadly.”

Crowley and Aziraphale are silent. You notice that they aren’t looking at each other. Well, you’ve done your best. Now you need to trust them.

At this point, dear Reader, you are probably thinking to yourself ‘well I would snoop and spy on them while they talk! I want to watch them make out!’ But here is the thing – in this world they are real people, not characters. It’s one thing to say that you would creep on them from the other side of this fiction, but when they’re very real and looking at you in person, things are a little different. For one thing, you realize that real people deserve things like boundaries and privacy, especially for sensitive conversations.

And so, you take Muriel over to Maggie’s shop, where you explain that Mr. Fell has sent the two of you on an errand and you need to stop for dinner somewhere and have no idea where anything is. You flash her the credit card and say ‘It’s all on me,’ and she conveniently agrees with a look on her face that says something like ‘least they could do after all that shit they put us through.’

So the three of you go for dinner at the nearest Weatherspoons, where you and Maggie eat while Muriel watches in morbid fascination. Then you all take the bus to Tesco where you buy yourself a small wardrobe, and manage to coax Muriel into some light blue jeans and an argyle jumper so they look a little less like the Beacon of Gondor. You quickly find out that Muriel has an adorable fascination with fuzzy socks, novelty mugs, and coloured pencils. Of course, you enable their fascinations with a happy heart, and as an afterthought, you grab them a small pot of orange daisies from the flower section. It will give them something alive to tend to while you’re gone. Muriel appreciates the thought. All in all, it’s a long but good time.

You don’t know about the talk, and you’re worried about asking when you get back.

THAT BEING SAID

You and I, dear Reader, not actually being in that world, are allowed certain privileges.

The bookshop is silent for a long time. Both of them are thinking, digesting, processing. Feelings are hard to feel, and harder to put into words. Especially when it has been made clear, twice now in the span of a number of hours, that you absolutely need to put them into words.

It isn’t until after Crowley notices you, Muriel, and Maggie heading down the street that he stands up and begins to pace. A few more minutes pass before he speaks.

“So...uhm...are you going to go first or should I?”

“Are we...are we actually going to do this? Have this talk I mean?” Aziraphale has been shelving books to try and take the edge off. Now he puts down the book in his hands and absent-mindedly fidgets with his ring.

“Well, I mean we don’t have to,” Crowley says, aiming for non-chalance and missing ever-so-slightly, “No one can actually make us.”

“Yes, except it feels very much like everyone is trying to.”

“Trying is the key word there.”

“That’s true enough I suppose.”

The silence returns and stretches. It is anything but comfortable. The air is full of words that they have been told they should say, words that perhaps they want to say, but words that have been dammed up with fear and uncertainty for so long now that they’ve become very hard to un-stick. After a while, Aziraphale clears his throat and speaks.

“I, erm, I suppose you had better go first.”

“Me, right, okay.” Crowley clears his throat now and stops his pacing near the desk. He looks down at the scattered papers and books, the pens and photos and newspaper clippings. The assorted clutter of Aziraphale’s life. Looking away makes it easier to start. He takes a breath. “Um..right...well...we’ve known each other a long time. We’ve been on this planet a long time – you and me, I mean. I’ve always been able to rely on you, and you’ve always relied on me,” another breath, “We’re a team, yeah? A group of the two of us. And...erm...we pretend that we aren’t. Always have. Safer that way I guess.” He looks up at Aziraphale. The angel isn’t looking at him, but he nods anyway to show that he’s listening. Crowley continues. “And I mean...I’ve tried not to think about it much before but...but it would be nice, I mean, UGH” He takes off his sunglasses and rubs a hand over his eyes as though he can massage the words and make them easier to say. “I mean, I would like to spend...mmm….I would like to spend the rest not pretending anymore. Be an us. I mean,” suddenly the dam breaks, and Crowley finds the words come tumbling out, “If Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, we can. We don’t need Heaven or Hell, they’re both toxic. We can be an us, on our side. You and me. What do you say?” He looks at Aziraphale without reservation now. His angel looks back at him, eyes wide. When he does speak, it’s with a smile and a small nod of acknowledgment rather than agreement.

“That was very well done Crowley,” he says. This isn’t an answer.

“Nnyeah, thanks. Your turn though.”

“Right, I suppose it is.” Aziraphale takes a moment to gather himself. After hearing Crowley be so open about this, he feels more resolved himself to do this properly. He faces Crowley and folds his hands to keep himself grounded. “Crowley,” he begins, “I...I wish that this conversation were happening under better circumstances. Although it’s been pointed out that ideal circumstances aren’t a promise that we can wait around for. Well, the thing is that I would like the same thing. Very much in fact. My biggest concern by far is for your safety because, well, frankly I don’t see the point in saving the world again if you’re not around to enjoy it with me. An us, as you said. You and me.” He smiles. Crowley smiles.

“Guess we’d better save the world together then. And try not to die.”

“Yes, quite.”

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, Crowley?”

“You’re my angel. No one else.”

“And you, my wiley serpent. No one else.”

The shop bell dings.

“We’re baaaaaack!” You sing as you waltz through the door, shopping bags in hand. Muriel follows after you, carefully carrying their daisies. “Did you miss us?”

When you eventually get the courage to ask them about their talk later, you get a “ngk” from Crowley, and a “We’ve said all that needs to be said, for now.” from Aziraphale. And that, you suppose, will have to do.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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cosmiclion · 5 days

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I refuse to be deflated (no I won't get tired of making memes).

#not eli's art #shitposting #shitpost #memes #meme #yuri!!! on ice #yuri on ice #yoi #we're all in this together #not kuro

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bts-trans · 4 months

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231214 Jin’s Instagram Post

웃길줄 알았는데..눈물이ㅠㅠ

I thought I would be laughing but..these tears ㅠㅠ

Trans cr; Aditi @ bts-trans © TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

#231214 #jin #seokjin #instagram #insta #post #jk #jungkook #jimin #join the club jin #we're all in this together #bts #bangtan

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fattributes · 9 months

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What kind of lasagna are we going to get? Are there any ingredients I should have left out or considered instead? Do you think the final results will resemble a real dish? Let me hear your predictions!

#food #polls #lasagna #there are a lot of different types of lasagna out there #this is a blend of three different lasagna recipes #so I don't even know what it will look like in the end #could it be entirely vegetarian?#does this site hate mushrooms?#we're all in this together #*sweats nervously*

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opossumking69 · 3 months

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hearmeout HEAR ME OUT

Jekyll kicking his legs on his bed that he doesn't actually sleep on, writing his journal and sighing dreamily like a schoolgirl over Lanyon

Bitch is in a Disney Channel movie

Sorry it took so long! But here you go

#the glass scientists #tgs #tgs fanart #art #tgs jekyll #shitpost #henry jekyll #alex's art #tgs hyde #tgs lanyon #robert lanyon #Highschool musical type of shit #We're all in this together

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astarions-musings · 5 months

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This story is about survivors, who’ve seen the worst that life has to offer and said “Fuck you, I’m gonna be happy regardless.”

This one’s for the people who clawed their way up from rock bottom, with bleeding hands and bleeding hearts, supported by headmates who know exactly what you’ve been through and how to support you in ways you never realised they could.

It’s about the hope the world couldn’t tear from your heart, the life they couldn’t squeeze from your lungs, the fire in your eyes that they thought they’d put out, but yet it still fucking burns.

This one’s about the future, for people who never thought they’d get one.

It’s about what happens after the happy endings, when you’ve fought off the monsters and made friends with your demons (they make damn good headmates), and yet the story goes on. It’s about the nights you spend stitching together a new sense of self, about patching the holes in the person you once new, about moving into a whole new self like a hermit crab who outgrew its old shell, admiring the claws and the fangs and the dashing good looks of the new form.

It’s about sitting down in a bed under the warm blankets, surrounded by the creature comforts that your system’s collected, and approaching your trauma like you’d approach a stray dog. Moving softly and gently, with some comforting treats to help it feel safe, letting it approach you at the pace it feels safe at. Feeling your heart break into pieces at how awfully this animal has been treated, feeling the cold rage in your soul at the bastards who abused this animal so cruelly, but also the hope and the joy at the life this creature still has ahead of it.

It’s about looking the pain in the eye and going “Fuck you, I’m gonna be happy regardless, and I don’t care how much work it’s gonna take.”

It’s about people like us. It’s about people like you.

And you’re not alone.

So welcome to the story. Let’s write a new chapter.

#Aston's musings #stream of consciousness #plural #plurality #plural system #pluralgang #plural gang #plural pride #plural positivity #actually plural #endo safe #endo friendly #we're all in this together #pluralpunk

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foxsoulcourt · 10 months

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AO3 donators/Fic readers: please be patient + careful. Help more people know what’s up by REBLOGGING this post - thx!

#ao3 #ao3_status #vs the cruel other #be careful when you donate #i couldn't access the false site but it's also early days #there will be others #archive of our own #otw #organization for transformative works #fanfic life #we're all in this together

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respectthepetty · 2 months

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No names, but I'm actively watching four of my mutuals catching up on Dead Friend Forever, and it's even better than watching the show. I'm refreshing their pages and checking their tags for their latest watch because no matter how they feel about the show, all of them have hit the same notes we did watching it live:

The hand

The tree

Uncle Dang

Money laundering

The horrors!

These boys?!

Keng

Phee (Phi)

And now they are rounding on New

Regardless if they like it or not, we are all in this together now!

#dead friend forever #watching my mutuals watch it #I would never binge this show #but they are brave souls who decided to go for it #good for them #and even better for me #we're all in this together

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etrevil · 7 months

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Now that the season finale is out, and the anime-only ending is rainbows and sunshine and a hint of sulfur from an explosion, begs the question on what the manga still has in store for us huh :'D

#asagiri lets us be happy in one dimension #and one time only #we're all in this together #aka we suffer together #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd anime #bungou stray dogs season five #bsd season 5 #bsd season five #bsd manga #bsd textpost

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onceuponapuffin · 10 days

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Part 2!

Beginning || Previous || Next

I'm so glad you all are as hyped about this idea as I am!! ^_^ So you know, I've been reading every Other Idea, every reblog, and I am going to use your input to inform my choices going forward. This is OUR fic, after all :)

***************

That FREAKING coffee. Your eyes narrow. Everyone is still in shock, no one has spoken yet. You use the hesitation to grab the coffee out of the Metatron's hands and chug it back all in one go. It's the perfect temperature for drinking. Because of course it is. You're vaguely aware of some sounds of protest from Metatron and Aziraphale, but they're monosyllabic, and don't need a response. That can wait till after you finish.

You pull the cup from your lips and exhale in an overly-dramatic fashion, and look at the Metatron. It tasted exactly like almond-flavoured coffee, and you still hate him. YUP. Good.

"I beg your pardon!" The Metatron gasps, his face glaring at you with fury behind his eyes. But, oh, you couldn't care less if you tried.

"Get. Out. Now," You say to him. Your eyes have figurative fire behind them, the rush of caffeine and adrenaline making you braver than you otherwise would be.

"Young person, have you any idea who you are ordering about? I think you'll find that you're of no authority to be making demands and that you would do best to see yourself out. Before you make any foolish mistakes," the Metatron's voice is cool like a spring creek, but you can hear the malice just below the surface; barely contained.

But here is the thing, my dear Reader, this is a self-insert fanfiction. And in this work of fiction you are brave and clever, and you have been grieving for everything this monster put our beloved Ineffable Husbands through for too long not to be very, very angry now that you have come face to face. And you are not about to let this go. Crowley and Aziraphale have spent so much time trying to defend the world, defend humans, defend those they don't even like! You'll be damned before you let them go undefended when you, yes you, with all your love for them and all your knowledge are standing right there. So defend them you shall. Someone has to. And right now no one else will.

"Do you," you begin after a moment, "have any idea who you are speaking to?"

For a moment, the Metatron looks taken aback. But only a moment, before his eyes grow cold again.

"I mean," you continue, "I just fell through the ceiling, and landed in front of you just as you were about to hand over that coffee. I don't know about you, but I can only think of one reason why that would have happened, and it has three letters."

In your peripheral vision you notice Muriel, counting on their fingers. Aziraphale chokes back a gasp. You can't see it right now, but you can FEEL Crowley's eyebrow from here. Metatron holds your gaze, not ready to give up just yet.

"If I were you, Metatron, I would pop on back to Heaven, and double-check a few things. Because, I mean, there must be a reason why I've been dropped here to interrupt you. Seems like your plan hasn't been...approved. Otherwise it would go forward as planned, yes?" Matching his arrogance is key here, and if you mess up, the consequences could be dire. You glance at your cuticles with an air of nonchalance. "Unless, of course, you presume to know better?" And to seal the deal, you raise your eyes in a sideways look that screams smug.

You've spent months reading meta analysis, character analysis, everything you can get your hands on about the final fifteen. You're pretty sure you have a solid enough grasp of the Metatron's character to pull this off. The main thing is to pretend you know what's actually going on, convince him that he doesn't, and buy some time.

Suddenly, your phone in your pocket buzzes four times, and your mouth tastes like salt. But, actually really pleasant salt. Like you just ate McDonald's french fries, or theatre popcorn. Something clicks into place in your mind.

"....Did you...just try to turn me into salt?"

Having spent months learning to read Michael Sheen's facial expressions, you see the Metatron's eyes shift through Surprise, then Curiosity, before landing on what you can only call Calculating.

So YUP for the salt. But apparently he can't touch you. Later, you tell yourself, we'll figure this out later. Get him out, and get him out now.

You take a step forward, herding him towards the door.

"It seems," you say to him, "That you have some things to clarify."

The Metatron huffs, and straightens his tie. "Indeed it does," he says, knives beneath the calm once again. "I shall return, Aziraphale, and when I do, I do hope we will have a chance to chat."

And so the Metatron leaves, as though it was his own idea. You follow him to the door. Oh, you shouldn't, but you just can't help yourself. And honestly, I don't think you should. You call to him as he walks away.

"And be careful with those questions, Metatron! We all know how THAT ONE goes, don't we?" And with that you slam the door.

While you're apologizing (very quietly and lovingly) to the bookshop door, you hear Crowley behind you.

"Nnnyeah, I have no idea what's going on, but I like this one."

You pull out your phone. There are five heart icons. Four that are full, and one that is just an outline. Oh. OH.

"FUCK," you say to yourself.

Now you look up. You're shaking like a leaf, but lucky for you, there's still a metric ton of adrenaline running through your system, allowing you to realize that you need to figure out what comes next.

Vote on This One too please (I'm only able to do one poll per post, so bear with me).

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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alilsakurablossom · 9 months

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one day more x we're all in this together xoxoooxoxo

i dont know what possessed me to make this i havent even seen high school musical

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astrum-aetherium · 9 months

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henry reacting to your whimpers while you fuck, he'd be so cocky fr

-8

wow, what a thought. and what an excruciatingly accurate one, too. i can picture it perfectly.

because i believe him to secretly thrive on validation, your quite profound verbal responses to his efforts would thrill him greatly. it would go straight to his head, despite the stoicism and whatnot. after all, we all want our certain portions of affirmation at times. your various sounds, laced with pleasure and yearning, would breathe life into him. but also hubris. on specific occasions, he would even mock you for them.

at first, it'd be a mere grin. his face, tense and furrowed due to the exertion, would be brightened by melting into a smug, knowing semi-smirk. you wouldn't even register it at first. with time, as he'd go harder, you'd mewl even louder and more desperately — given that he's had a little bit to drink, i guess that he'd be dangerously likely to deride you verbally, as well.

in less memorable cases, it'd be mere ridiculing hisses like mmhm? that good? or yeah?. on other, notably monumental occasions, however...

"how very responsive," he'd utter, voice breathy and low. at first, you'd mistake his claim for praise, only for him to continue, "quite pathetic, though, if you ask me." all that would come filtering through his tight lips, still strung up in a smirk that would be too uncharacteristically vain. in spite of obviously intended to be derisive, it'd intrigue and excite you fully. who knows — maybe you'll theratrically increase your volume, just to see where that might lead.

in addition, imagine how that would pan out if he was angry... and i'm talking when he's completely letting it all out on you... perhaps in an environment not entirely private, like the nightfallen kitchen of francis' country house or a not exactly thick-walled hotel room... in such instances, combined with his previously established irritation, soft whimpers would already be enough to land you on his bad side, and thereby in the realm of degradation. good god, just shut it... you filthy-mouthed, disobedient thing...

but, y'know, just a notion. all hypothetical. nothing too serious.

#astrum asks #henry winter imagine #henry winter x reader #henry winter thirst #henry winter smut #indulgent thoughts #GAHHHHHHHH yes he would #i could get on my knees and start praying for this to happen right NOW #oh yes i would #y'all don't understand how badly i need him and how needly i bad him #or maybe perhaps you do #we're all in this together

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tears-of-the-angel · 7 months

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