#Still working on that fic….

[fuckwhoeverpickedallthefunnyurls]

Noting down things on my rewatch of Season 1 of Good Omens

While watching that scene where God explained that "it was like playing poker in a pitch-dark room, with a dealer who won't tell you the rules and who smiles all the time" and so many things appeared on the screen I just imagined how long it took to edit/make that whole scene.

In the book it's mentioned that Crowley's remark "You're an angel, I don't think you can do the wrong thing" is supposed to be sarcastic but Aziraphale doesn't notice. Well then I guess I'm like Aziraphale because I also did not and continue to not notice the sarcasm there unless I really watch out for it then slightly I guess.

Rewatching I feel like Eve opening her eyes after taking a bite of the apple is given even more underlinement than when Adam does it. Especially also through the sound effect in the background

I didn't even remember that Ligur & Hastur came out of the ground. To do it on a graveyard too like they....rose from the dead. Yeah cool symbolism or something 👍

Hastur with his flaming hand to light is cigarette is also cool. Once again thinking about editing and special effects etc. etc.

LIGUR'S LITTLE ANIMAL PAL ON HIS HEAD MOVED!!!!!! IT'S PAW OR HOWEVER YOU CALL IT MOVED!!!!

Long hair Crowley

I didn't even notice but Crowley sways his hips EXTREMELY after walking back to his car after receiving the antichrist. This is the Crowley slutty walk everyone is talking about

"Ciao. Means...Food." Always cracks me up. The pause adds to the comedic effect.

The whole "Yes" simultaneously. Also very funny tbh. Especially the way they say/pronounce it.

Until recently when I searched up about the actors starring in Good Omens in detail I literally didn't notice that the actors of Nina and Maggie were literally both nuns in season 1. Call that recycling (or foreshadowing, who knows)

Yooo the soundtrack when the ambulance arrives at the nun hospital is lowkey fire

Crowley's old glasses...I feel like the new ones are better bc they have these things at the side so the eyes are covered completely from all angles. I can't believe I'm getting a pair of them on Monday!! (For my Halloween costume)

WHY are there so many people on the street in front of Aziraphale's bookshop. Is that just what it's like in Soho.

The way Crowley talks and also his expression in that telephone cell are so funny in a way

Now that I've started reading the book and know that Aziraphale was the one blew up/set on fire the block of traffic officer who tried to give Crowley a ticket for parking in the wrong spot, I think it should have been included in the Show

I don't even remember this much happening in the first episode. I'm so used to OFMD's 30 minute episodes. And Good Omens Season 2 episodes somehow don't feel that long Idk why

Nanny Astoresh!!!!!! (Idk how it's spelled tbh)

I never noticed that Nanny's lullaby was to the tune of like the Good Omens soundtrack

Crowley going down the reflection of the escalator to go to hell weeeee

Crowley's little bun ❤❤❤ (+ his coat ❤❤)

Crowley's expression when saying "They [Heaven aka The Opposition] don't suspect a thing

Beelzebub & Hastur & Ligur all have little animal pals I think Crowley should have a little snake pal

I don't know how I never realized the first time watching that Crowley only has the snake tattoo on one side. I always thought he had dual snakes. I guess that is his little snake pal.

Why the close-up shots of Gabriel 😭😭

The famous "Please do not lick the walls" sign!!!

Isn't that Erik the demon that they fed to the hellhound??? He just keeps coming back like a Nokia huh. Indestructible.

Crowley short hair all of a sudden 😢 (he still looks good but it was a jumpscare ngl after seeing him with long hair all the time)

Crowley suggesting child murder on a sunny afternoon (I just now realized, Crowley doesn't kill kids. Is that why he suggested Aziraphale do it? I thought it was just because then it would be "heavenly doing" but this is probably his deeper motivation)

Crowley's watch is really cool?? I had to go back like 3 times to see what all the different lanes for the numbers were for though

Crowley's new glasses too

Them drinking again because they f-ed up

[eridan-ampora]

i love it when characters are codependent. i love it when losing someone feels like losing a limb. i love it when two people "complete" each other so wholly and terribly that one can barely function without the other. i love it when the fear of losing the only person who understands them is so all-consuming they'll destroy anything to stay together, including themselves.

[ultravioletbrit]

“lipstick” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 280 words

 

“You lying, cheating bastard!” Regulus yells from down the hall.

“What did you do?” Remus asks.

“Probably nothing.” James shrugs as Regulus storms into the kitchen.

“Probably nothing!?” Regulus yells. “Care to explain what this is?” He throws a shirt at James.

“The shirt I wore last night.” James says casually.  

“Right. And why are there lipstick marks and mascara streaks on the collar?” Still yelling as he rips the shirt back out of James’ hands.

James points behind Regulus to a hungover Sirius who’s passed out at the kitchen table with smeared lipstick and mascara on his face.

“Right. That makes sense. Thank you.” He says sternly and stomps back out of the kitchen muttering something about ‘oil based’ and ‘a bitch to clean.’

“What was that?” Remus asks with wide eyes.

“Healthy communication.” James says with another shrug.

“That was healthy?”

“Oh yeah, normally he shuts down, won’t talk to me for days and often locks me out of the bedroom without telling me what’s wrong.” James starts telling him as Regulus walks back into the kitchen looking for something under the sink. “Plus, he knows I’d never actually cheat, probably just needed a bit of reassurance and this way he can ask without feeling too vulnerable.” He finishes as Regulus stands up.

“And you like it when I’m a little mean to you.” He tells James and kisses him on the cheek.

“And that.” James says as Regulus gives Remus a pointed ‘so there’ look and saunters out of the kitchen again.

“God, he’s dramatic.” Remus mumbles.

“Mooooonnnnyyyy!! My head huuuurrrts!!!” Sirius whines from the table and James raises an eyebrow at Remus.  

“What? I didn’t say mine wasn’t dramatic.”

[paintedcrows]

Some Fords! (and Martin K Blackwood is also there)

[fanartsandstuff]

I just love ao3 authors

We live in a beautiful era of people not giving a single fuck

[pricklenettle]

the seventh chapter of Weaving Webs! Here’s the Ao3 link.

This is my last illustrations for invisobang, but Weaving Web’s isn’t nearly finished yet, I highly recommend that you continue following @maskedemerald’s story, they did a fantastic job and it is so fun and cool

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[dcxdpdabbles]

Damian: Father, where is Alfred? I need his counsel on an issue. Bruce: He stepped out for some errands, but I can help in his place. What's the issue? Damian: No. Even I am more knowledgeable in the ways of the heart than you. I shall wait for Alfred's return. Bruce mouthing: In the ways of the heart? Later that evening: ........ Bruce: Did Damian talk to you about his problem today, Alfred? Alfred: Yes, Master Bruce. The lad seemed to be sweet on a classmate and was seeking guidance on how to approach the young man. Bruce: Why didn't he come to me!? I could help him! Alfred: Seeing as you failed to get Jack Fenton to glance in your direction, let alone consider you a romantic partner, I fail to see how you would help Master Damian with Danny Fenton. Bruce: Jack Fenton has a son!? A son Damian fancies!? Alfred: Yes, he does. Interestingly enough, I had a similar conversation with your father back when he learned Anthony Fenton's son was Jack. Bruce: I can't believe this. It's always the Fentons. WHY CAN'T THEY EVER LOVE US BACK?! Alfred: Well, you know what they say. The third time is the charm. Perhaps Master Damian will have better luck than you or your father did. Bruce: Do you really belive that? Alfred: Oh not at all. I've seen the way Mr.Fenton looks at Master Damian. That is not the expression of a boy who fancies someone. Rather, I would say it's the one a butcher aims at a cow for slaughter. Bruce sighing: And the cycle of heart break contuines.

[i-like-to-look-at-your-back]

he protec he attac

Inspired by Territoriality by @poppy5991

[soosoosoup]

Chord Striker Au by @thatbennybee

[collophora]

Do yourself a favor and go read the entire fanfic work of @fanfoolishness

(In order: Under sun and shade, Blind Side, and Breathless (patching up is one of my fav too, I just had no cool sketch idea for it)

[sarcasmcloud]

"Kinda wishin' that I never did Saturday" - Backslide (twenty one pilots)

[koalasmashedoneucalyptus]

This has been sitting in my drafts

[ckret2]

I'm only asking this because you said you want to draw some Billford and now I'm thinking about it. It seems to me that Bill would bring Ford extremely upsetting presents (like a cat) and Ford (like a cat owner) would be disgusting/horrified, but charmed despite himself. Am I correct? Also, would the same thing happen in reverse

Yeah that's basically where they're at in canon lol. Buuut my goal's to write them struggling & clawing past their toxic history to reach a place where they work.

And when they work, I think usually Bill gives Ford gifts that should horrify him, but that he only finds charming, because these two freaks are on the same wavelength. And same goes in reverse.

(there's another five pages under the cut)

In billford as "toxic exes who get under each other's skin because they know each other so well," having them constantly bickering and getting on each other's nerves works just fine. But when they're actually a couple, I like to see them like each other. Enjoy each other's company and do things for each other that they appreciate.

Even if it's batshit by outsiders' standards, it needs to work for them. Bill knows when Ford would love to be cursed and Ford sees weird gross body parts and knows "Bill would want this."

[seiwas]

grow on me like a dog loved fondly: prologue | kamo choso

wc: 1.0k

summary: your regular to the flower shop is more than what he seems. 

contains: written with f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!, animal shelter employee choso x flower shop owner reader, implied that reader is shorter than choso, flowers, small talk.

a/n: the promised choso drabble! depending on how this is received, i intend for this to be the prologue to a longer choso fic i have in mind!

You have a regular on the weekends. 

Business in the flower shop tends to be slow during winter, with less occasions having the need for flowers and even less buds blooming during the season. 

But even with the expected decline in customers, Saturdays always guarantee one—

The bells attached to the store doors jingle, allowing in a gust of cool air that tickles your cheeks from where you’re crouched down. The peonies in your hands were delivered just yesterday, the ends of the stems needing a slight trim to keep them fresh for longer. 

You turn, standing up to face your visitor. A purple scarf is wrapped high around his neck, with white fleece running down the length of his arms—a sort of undershirt to the short-sleeved uniform worn atop it. The outfit is familiar enough, but what truly distinguishes him are the two spiky pigtails on the sides of his head. 

There are a few things you’ve managed to pick up from four-line exchanges with your regular (six if you’re lucky): 1) he works at the animal shelter a few streets away, 2) the flowers he buys are for the front desk, a weekly replacement he deems necessary to keep the place looking alive, and 3) who he is, his name—

—‘Choso’, if the tag on his uniform says anything. 

The tag that is now, also, just a hand’s reach away from you. 

You look up, pocketing your plant nippers. The peonies dangle between your fingers. 

“W-welcome!” you stutter, focusing on the thin metal chain running across his nose. 

It’s new, an addition that intrigues you more about the man in front of you. 

The look he gives you is lazy, gaze deadpan, almost empty. Anyone else might find it snobbish and off-putting, but you’ve gotten used to it—an almost magenta puffiness that surrounds his eyes, bags of fatigue that usually hang underneath. 

He continues to stare, unmoving. 

Considering all your previous interactions, you’ve realized, he isn’t scary or rude or anything of that sort—he’s just awkward. 

A bit quiet and unbothered, maybe, but still just awkward. You don’t think he’s ever started an interaction with you first. 

“Is there any flower in particular that you’re looking for?” you ask, motioning around your store. 

The selection is limited this season—a few camellias and clusters of Japanese primrose with an abundance of peonies and daffodils. 

His head turns as he glances around the store, pigtails bobbing slightly with each movement. When he faces you again, he shrugs, voice deep and firm as he asks, “Do you have any recommendations?” 

It’s an odd feeling, borderline awkward and nervous; you have no idea why your mind is blanking. 

“Um,” you clear your throat, tucking the peonies between your fingers into your apron pocket, “daffodils are bright and friendly, good for entryways and front desks, I think.” 

He eyes the daffodils to your right, buckets of stems holding yellow and white. The store stays quiet for what feels like a good minute before he nods, agreeing to your suggestion. 

“The usual?” two clusters, wrapped in newspaper. 

Your question echoes throughout the shop, lingering while you pick at which daffodils look best. 

“Yes, but two of them.” he answers in monotone, before adding on, a soft hesitancy, “Please.” 

You smile to yourself, picking more daffodils for another bunch. 

Both of you make your way to the cashier, another bout of silence surrounding you as you crumple newspaper and pull at tape. He always watches, you notice, his focus set on your practiced handling of stems and leaves. 

You look up momentarily, seeing that he keeps his head down, “The pigtails are cool.” 

He doesn’t say anything, and for a while you’re afraid you might have offended him, but he responds, voice low; it’s soft, gentle in a way you never expected it to be. 

“Thank you.” you catch him shifting his weight from your periphery, hands digging deeper into his pockets, “The dogs think they’re chew toys when I wear it this way.” 

You most certainly were not expecting that, either. 

This is the most initiative he’s taken to add onto the conversation.

You grin, chuckling under your breath, “That must be fun.” 

It’s faint, but you think you hear him laugh a little. 

When the flowers are completely wrapped, you set them aside, making your way behind the cash register. You punch in the cost, ready to bill him before he speaks again. 

“Actually, would you happen to do deliveries?” he seems shy asking it, barely looking you in the eye. 

“Yes!” You nod, grabbing a pen and paper to hand over to him, “Just write down your contact details, the address you want it delivered to, and when you’d like it to be delivered.” 

Another thing you’ve realized, is that despite appearances and what he seems to be, Choso handles objects gently; the pen and paper you’d just given him were taken lightly from your fingertips. Even the strokes of his penmanship are slow, the tip of the pen barely creating an indent on the small sheet. 

“Will you be having both of these delivered?” you ask, holding up the bundles of daffodils. 

“Just one.” he answers promptly, before adding on again, “Thank you.” 

And you know you shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t be so nosy, but—

“What’s the occasion?”—

Flowers are rarely in demand during the winter season. 

—“If you don’t mind me asking,” you follow-up quickly. 

The immediate quiet makes you think you might have gotten too comfortable again, made him feel weird about your questions—but he answers.

“My brothers,” he finishes the final curves of his writing, “they’re coming to visit.” 

The piece of paper is handed to you, and you hum, acknowledging his response. You go over his details, reciting it to him to double-check. But when you land on his address, your eyes go wide, a little ‘oh!’ slipping out. 

He furrows his brows, confused. 

You definitely, most certainly did not expect this. 

“Sorry,” you shake your head, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment, “Just—“ you chuckle, “I think we might be neighbors.” 

thank you notes: @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for sending me lil prompts that somehow birthed into this!! + @yemmuishomeforthementallyunwell for feeding the choso brainrot 🥹 + @mysugu @soumies for being my angels, lights of my life!! listening to me ramble abt this and helping me pick music, hash out plot, pick title, everything! ily

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[starrspice]

Have an art crumb