#THAT VERTICAL HALO

[yellowymellon]

HE SO CUTE I NEED HIM AND ROBIN RN I CANT COPE

[chronurgy]

Now I'm imagining Durge as a saint too, a living saint to the Bhaalists

What would your durge be the patron saint of, and what would their halo and saintly regalia and symbols be?

[thebirdarts]

Pose<3

[doom-dreaming]

One of my favorite concept arts :)!!

It's one of my favorites too :)

[ur-haruspis]

Requiem, 2558. While Fireteam Crimson engage Covenant forces at the shield world's Refuge site where a Covenant cruiser has deployed a deadly group of zealots known as the Silent Blade, Fireteam Shadow is called upon to aid in a vital Spartan operation. Their mission: infiltrate the cruiser and destroy it from within.

As part of the celebrations that marked the tenth anniversary of Halo 4 back in November, this short story has been made available in audiobook (narrated by yours truly) and PDF formats.

Read Halo: Vertical Umbrage here: - Halo Waypoint: https://aka.ms/Halo4ShadowStory - PDF: https://aka.ms/VerticalUmbragePDF

[mrs-weasley-reid]

DOCTORS ACROSS THE HALL

Spencer Reid x psychiatrist!reader

Synopsis: Sleep-deprived and traumatized, Spencer Reid attempts to pin the blame on his innocent new neighbor (he can't). Word Count: 2k+ Warning: meet cute-ish(?) fluff(?) i'm not sure anymore, lol. light mentions of death and trauma. a few curses. not proofread !!!! A/N: inspired by S2 x E14 & 15, we all know what i mean hehe

Spencer Reid's eyes are dry.

Each blink is a terrifying journey. Afraid that he'll go back in the past—in that hut—in between the millisecond of closing his eyes.

He's seeing nothing but blurry darkness, and yet he can still feel Tobias Hankel's shaky palms across the skin of his arm.

"It helps."

"Trust me."

The same four words ring in Spencer's ears, encouraging pain—paranoia.

"It helps."

"Trust me."

With every breath Spencer takes, they hitch in the middle of his throat. Forever stuck and dies there with no trace of hope for the next generation of traveling air.

Hope that he'll be able to breathe without tugging aches all over his chest is long gone.

No man would ever be the same had they been in the situation he went through. He can't help but feel weak. And it's eating Spencer alive to the point of deliberate insomnia.

He doesn't remember the last time he'd ever slept like a normal person.

"It helps."

Knock, knock.

"Trust me."

Knock, knock, knock.

Spencer opens his eyes. He's not sure when slumber took over his mind or if he even participated in sleep at all. Chances are he was too dissociated from reality that he's left his body frozen for a while. Nonetheless, in the little time he spent in serene blankness, only one emotion brews in him.

Anger.

Who in their right minds would go out knocking at—Spencer glances at the clock on his nightstand—2 AM?

Knock, knock, KNOCK—

It stops.

A creak echoes in the hall as muffled voices scratch Spencer's ears. He can't make out the words, only the wave of the softest and gentlest whispers he's ever heard.

On a different day, he may have let it go. Hell, a different him would have let it go.

The Spencer from one week ago would have let it go.

The Spencer who never felt so nauseous at the sight of his own blood along the canvas of his temple. The Spencer with an awkward grin without the baggage of Tobias Hankel's torture over his shoulders.

The Spencer he used to be.

But despite everyone's loving support. Despite the bragging rights he gained for surviving a serial killer. No one can loosen the throttling chokehold of trauma around his neck. Not even him.

Spencer catches himself clenching his fists too tight. Crescent indentations sting on his palm—nostalgic and unsettling. He only grits his jaw at the thought. And comes in the invigorating vibrations all over his chest.

There it is again.

The useless anger.

A loaded gun with no target.

The man is dead. Tobias Hankel is dead.

Spencer wonders about the use of his boiling anger when the person he loathes is already rotting in his grave.

Without any other outlet to unleash the colossal mass of suppressed rage brewing inside of him, Spencer makes good use of one of the most common defense mechanisms: displacement.

Maybe screaming at someone will deflate the tightness across his chest and clear his mind a bit in the form of self-loathing after he realizes the grave immaturity of his plan.

He lifts his body off his mattress, swinging his legs on the side of his bed as he methodically rubs his eyes against the lamp's brightness. Strands of his hair go array around the vertical circumference of his head like an electric halo.

A huff pulses off his lips. He swallows a lump of thick air as he weighs his next moves.

Part of Spencer died in that cemetery. What difference does it make if he screams at the world? If he screams at—

His brows furrow, eyes narrow, and ears perk.

It's different this time.

Irritating knocks. Opening door. Muffled whispering. Closing door. Then quiet for an hour.

That has been a constant for the past five days. A constant routine that he felt indifferent about but somehow grew annoyed by.

But it's different this time.

The door across the hall didn't close.

And it's been five minutes.

Before Spencer knows it, his hand turns the knob and swings the door open.

Two women across from him. They are in the middle of what seems to be a tight hug before one bids her goodbye and lightly runs down the stairs.

Spencer watches as the other disappears down the lower level. Anger morphs into confusion.

"Did we bother you?"

He jolts back, snapping his gaze to the woman across. "What?"

You smile apologetically, "I'm sorry about the noise—"

"Dr. Spencer Reid," He spits. Spencer's forehead creases. He wonders what prompted his mouth to openly provide his full name to a stranger, specifically when the information was not asked for.

"Oh," You blink, lightly jumping on your toes. An unseen glint sparks in your eyes. You introduce yourself as a response, a lot less threatening than he did but equally awkward. You smile again. Sweetly, this time. Like you're looking at a puppy.

Spencer's brows bounce over his forehead as the hand over his doorknob loosens. "You're a doctor?" He inquires.

You nod, "Mhm, what are the odds, right?" You chuckle. The sound echoes around the quiet hall.

"11.76%."

"What?"

"The odds—" Spencer scratches the back of his neck, "—it's 11.76%. There are fourteen tenants in this building, including you. We both found out we're doctors, and I know none of our neighbors are. Most of the neighbors are living alone besides the old couple on the first floor, but I know none of them are doctors. That's two in fifteen people. So 11.76%. But now I realize you weren't being literal about it..." Heat rushes against the skin of his face.

Silence hovers between the two of you. He feels more awake than he was minutes ago for an entirely different reason—embarrassment. Spencer wishes that some sort of earthquake would open up the floor and swallow him.

"Interesting," You finally speak, changing the leg where you placed your weight. "I tried calculating it myself and got the same result. You were right."

His mouth falls agape. A surge of warmth strikes his chest. "You were calculating?" Spencer squints, rubbing an eye out of habit due to his current predicament and baffled by your antic all the same.

You nod again, "Just cause you're my neighbor doesn't mean I'll just take your word for it, you know. But I have to admit, it was cool that you figured that out in a second. You have my respect." You flash a playful smile, hugging your chest at the sudden draft.

"Ahh," Spencer steps back into his apartment. The tinge of giddiness is quickly replaced by sleep deprivation and anxiety. A hand throws itself into the cavity of his eye socket, pushing it close to remove the pain that's settling in.

Flashes of bright light blind him in the dark shade of his eyelids. Frustration swiftly creeps over his shoulders. Like he's drowning above water, tied down, and has no air to gasp for. Panic begins to paralyze him. All seems lost, and darkness slowly—

"Would you like some tea?"

Spencer blinks, lifting his gaze back at you as your soft smile slowly adjusts his sight.

"I have a new brand of tea I've been dying to open. Would you like some?" You repeat, tilting your head a bit as you await a response. When you don't get one, you add, "I promise I don't bite." And your heart flutters at the little twitch at the ends of his lips.

He concludes you're roughly two weeks fresh from moving in. Here you are, inviting a stranger in the middle of the night to enjoy tea inside your home.

Seems reckless.

Idiotic.

But Spencer doesn't say no.

He walks towards you like he's leaving a world to explore another. Anxiety slowly dissipates with each step he takes. A contrast of what he feels each second that passes while he lies awake.

You step aside to give him way. "Grab a seat—" you gesture towards the kitchen -island-slash-dining-table, "—The girl you saw usually stays longer, so I already heat some water. Is chamomile okay?" You talk as you maneuver around your small kitchen.

Spencer finds a seat closest to the door. For all he knows, you're the serial killer on your end of the skeptical assumptions in his head.

"Nice apartment," He says out of the obligatory guest etiquette. Spencer takes in every bit of your reflection in your home.

It's inviting. Warm and cozy. The hint of oat and lavender whiffs past his nose. Your place is adorned with small, warm lights, brightening each corner with sunset tones.

Your chuckle brings his attention back to you. "Don't be shy, Dr. Reid," You glance at him over your shoulder. "It's messy. You can say it."

"If a couple of books on your table is messy to you, you should see my side of the building."

Spencer straightens up as confusion spreads over his face.

How do you do that?

Make him feel comfortable with words and a gentle voice. Everyone on his team has been doing the same exact thing, but somehow, you get something out of him without further prompting.

The image of your coffee table pops in his head. Cultural Psychology. Learning Psychotherapy. Trauma and Dreams. And a few more books that clocks his interest in you further down the rabbit hole.

"You're a psychologist," He announces into the air.

"Psychiatrist, actually," You place a mug in front of Spencer, finding a seat across from him. "But what gave it away? The tea or the messy apartment?" You ask into your mug that says 'you're purrfect' in pink lowercase and has a cat’s paw under the lettering. A playful smile is curving your lips.

Spencer accepts the blue mug, brows rising at the police box outlined image over the blue stain. He wouldn’t have expected you as a fan of Doctor Who, but who’s he to judge? A part of him wants to discuss common interests, but he doesn’t feel comfortable enough to change the subject.

"T-the books." He says hesitantly, uncertain whether the art of observation has marked him a creep right at that moment.

You hum, "Thought I would've been more mysterious than that." You chuckle, pulling a leg against your chest. "And you?" You inquire back.

"I have three PhDs," Spencer shares shyly, breaking eye contact masked as drinking your quite tasteful tea. He notes to ask the brand you're so enthusiastic about later on.

"Three?" Your eyes glisten under the warm light.

He nods.

"Let me guess, 190."

"190?"

"Your IQ," You lean back against the table, "My guess is you graduated young. Went to high school, college, and graduate school as a puppy." You add, amping with adoration over the new information.

"A puppy is a strong word, but yes," Spencer blushes now, hoping the small lighting leans in his favor to hide the red tint over every bit of his skin. “And just 187, not that big of a deal.”

"Just 187? You're just being humble, right?" You giggle, "I bet some prestigious agency hired you at a young age, and you're called the genius kid." You jest, genuinely interested in him more than ever.

More like the boy genius. But can’t possibly expose himself more than you already did out of sheer lucky guesses. Spencer avoids meeting your eyes like it's the plague. "You awfully guess a lot..."

You gasp, placing your mug on the table, "Shut up! I was close, was I? Oh my gosh!" You're laughing now, utterly comfortable to show quirks that people you just met shouldn't see yet. "I'm good at this. I think I'll be okay later, then." You say to yourself, nodding in satisfaction.

"For what?" Spencer chimes, troubles slipping away to the back of his mind and the sound of your hush laughter lulling him. It might be the tea or the possibility that you'd drugged him, but his body felt light for the first time in weeks. He doesn't have any complaints.

"I moved here for a job," You start attentively, making sure that you don't share too much. "But I have people. They'll search for me in case you turn out to be a serial killer."

His brows jump, "How do I know you're not the serial killer? Women can be one, too. And statistically, women who are serial killers are attractive."

"Are you saying I'm attractive, Dr. Reid?"

"I—" Spencer freezes, heat flowing to his ears. "I-I was making a point—" He cuts himself off. He wonders when the earthquake he's wished for earlier is coming to save him from embarrassment.

You stay silent, reveling in his stuttering voice.

"Is that coffee? I thought you made tea." He changes the subject—poorly.

You don't mind it one bit, indulging at the sight of his pinkish ears covered by his unruly hair. "I invited you for tea. I didn't say I'll drink one with you." You take a sip of the caffeine, rubbing the idea on his face.

Spencer responds with a subtle roll of his eyes that makes you chuckle more than intended. "Why coffee at three in the morning?" He asks gently, not wanting to step over any boundaries.

"I'm supposed to start my job later. I heard my patients need a lot of assistance, so I need to study and make sure I give them the right help."

"That sounds noble," He yawns, the first of many.

Spencer never thought your smile could get any sweeter, "I haven't officially met them yet. So, I really wish it goes well."

It might be the chamomile tea with a hint of honey finally working in his veins, but Spencer thinks you're beaming like an angel descending from the skies.

He yawns, and you giggle once more, "I think you should go to sleep, Dr. Reid."

“Yeah, yeah, I should,” Spencer’s eyebrows collide at the sadness in his chest. His body feels comfortable in his seat. Getting out of it feels like torture. 

You both stand from your seats, walking him towards the door. 

Spencer turns around before he closes his, a sleepy smile on his face. "Thanks for the tea," He yawns, a hand covering his mouth.

“You’re— hold on, give me one second,” You turn around and back inside your apartment. He can’t see you but can hear your light footsteps on the floorboards as you run to your coffee table and back inside the frame of your front door. 

Spencer patiently waits as you walk to his end of the hall, take his hand out, and hand him a heart lollipop. 

“Take this. They help with the bad craving,” You advertise as you walk backward. Before he completely shuts the door, you call for him, "Oh, and Dr. Reid."

Spencer swings the door open back wider, "Yes?"

"I think you're attractive too."

reid masterlist | masterlist

[hiaennyddei]

is the King in Yellow phallic or yonic ? Discuss. [i am sent to the Dreamlands for 20 years]

Design notes under the cut !

John :

his coat has 2 layers. the outside is always the same shape, the inside is a mess of fabric that doesn't make much sense and whose shape changes depending on what he needs.

his outer cloak separates in 4 large ribbons that act more or less as legs. they're very strong but not very agile.

there's a darker ribbon going from his hood down his back that acts roughly like a tail. he uses it for balance (like a cat), mobility (like a snake), or attack (like a scorpion) depending on what he needs

thin ribbons float and wrap around his arms, and some more can come from his inner cloak. they act as precision limbs.

his hands look human-ish, but very bony and with short claws. the skin feels like porcelain.

he usually has 4 hands out, but can remove or add some as needed.

the brooch on his cloak has the same sigil than the one on his book

the teeth in his mouth are ivory-white

some areas of him are always in complete darkness (the inside of his hood, the deep folds of his cloak). you can only ever see the outline of his face.

the cloak is part of his body as much as the arms, possibly more so

the halo/crown melts more the more he strays from godhood. it is always tilted towards Arthur. (it built back up to an extent during his stint in the dark worlds in s3, then started melting again)

the crown's spikes always point straight up, regardless of how tilted the crown is

King in Yellow :

Some common points with John : hooded cloak with sharp tails, yellow, ribbons/tendrils, vertical mouth, crown, jewelry, bony arms, some areas are comletely in darkness, obscured face, glowing eye(s)

Some differences : John's yellow is warmer ; John has fancy embroideries, King is much more uniform ; John's cloak has natural folds, King's looks more geometrical ; John's eye is bright all the way in, King's is dark at the center like a black hole ; John's hands are human-like, King's has two opposable thumbs like owl talons

Generally they have similar building blocks (cloak, yellow theme, ribbons/tendrils...) but John is warmer, has more human traits, and is generally more organic/more natural-looking.

The King's crown has two points broken off (one for John, one for Yellow)

If you stand in front of the king it always looks like light is coming from behind him, so the side you see is always is semi-darkness and the cast shadow is always on you. If you could circle around him, the shadow would follow you like a compass

The hands are more "puppeted" additions than actual body parts

Yellow :

Basically the King in Yellow forced into a situation of weakness and fragile humanity

Shade of yellow is closer to the King's than John's

Coat's cut has the sharpness and geometry of the King's, but it's imperfect and has visible folds

Crown is broken as representation of his weakness, but unlike John's it's forcefully and neatly broken instead of melted

Him having hands is representative of being forced into a human, but they still take inhuman shapes with two opposable thumbs

Makes a point to keep up appearances, hence the jewelry and coat patterns, but doesn't have the King's glory

Has two eyes because he has Arthur's

Has the king's monstruous tendrils, but a lot more disorganized and more fabric-y than shadow. They spill out of the area where his coat's symetry is broken.

[apoemaday]

Monet Refuses the Operation

by Lisel Mueller

Doctor, you say that there are no halos around the streetlights in Paris and what I see is an aberration caused by old age, an affliction. I tell you it has taken me all my life to arrive at the vision of gas lamps as angels, to soften and blur and finally banish the edges you regret I don’t see, to learn that the line I called the horizon does not exist and sky and water, so long apart, are the same state of being. Fifty-four years before I could see Rouen cathedral is built of parallel shafts of sun, and now you want to restore my youthful errors: fixed notions of top and bottom, the illusion of three-dimensional space, wisteria separate from the bridge it covers. What can I say to convince you the Houses of Parliament dissolve night after night to become the fluid dream of the Thames? I will not return to a universe of objects that don’t know each other, as if islands were not the lost children of one great continent. The world is flux, and light becomes what it touches, becomes water, lilies on water, above and below water, becomes lilac and mauve and yellow and white and cerulean lamps, small fists passing sunlight so quickly to one another that it would take long, streaming hair inside my brush to catch it. To paint the speed of light! Our weighted shapes, these verticals, burn to mix with air and changes our bones, skin, clothes to gases. Doctor, if only you could see how heaven pulls earth into its arms and how infinitely the heart expands to claim this world, blue vapor without end.

[sky-is-the-limit]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick thribbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail stractching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magniticent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and i'd still ride it and I would give this man the sloppiest, wettest, creamiest, soul taking, slimy, life changing, death DROPPING, heaven sent, flabbergasting, hypnotising, ungodly, astonishing, leg trembling, back arched, hands desperately grabbing the sheets, legs stretching out again and again, toe curling, voice breaking, whimper causing, waist slowly moving up and down, small heavy breath " I can't take much more of this", breaths getting quicker, twitching, throbbing, eyes shut, lip biting, edging begging for relief, warm hot rush bubbling up, spit upon the tongue twisting ground tip-talking against the mouth, sideways spit from the end and lick from the bottom to the top then spit and lick to the bottom,

deepthroating, thrusting slower then faster, faster, FASTER twisting mouth around each side, spiritually enlightening, chakra aligning, mangekyo sharigan unlocking, golden light like a halo, noise from the very edge of his throat for the final, hardest release ever....and THEN I'd let him pound me so FUCKING HARD UNTIL HE IMPRENATES ME WITH HIS BABIES. My prayers for you be like no lube, no protection from the condom or the lord, all night all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the church, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, while i gasp for air and scream the lord's prayer, YOU sir can OBLITERATE me and uses no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and i'd still ride.

[bird--egg]

No one will understand you--you are all alone

[ID: Colored digital art featuring Lionblaze holding Dovepaw in StarClan and Hawkfrost holding Ivypaw in the Dark Forest. Their positions are mirrored vertically, linked by Dovepaw and Ivypaw's twined tails.

In the top half of the image, Lionblaze holds Dovepaw close to himself, shielding her with his paws, and he growls protectively at the viewer. Dovepaw seems to be uncomfortable at Lionblaze's overprotectiveness, trying to get out of his grasp. She has a solid yellow halo behind her head, and there's a larger yellow ring around her and Lionblaze. Six disembodied eyes are watching them. Outside the ring are several winged StarClan cats, with halos above their heads and around their wrists.

In the bottom reversed half of the drawing, Hawkfrost draws Ivypaw closer to himself, smiling deviously as he covers her face with his paws. Ivypaw looks away with a downcast expression. She has a solid red halo behind her head, and it's dripping like blood. Behind her and Hawkfrost is a dark purple forest of dead trees. Six paws claw upwards towards StarClan. Where the two sides connect are clouds and dripping blood.

The second image is identical, except that it is flipped so that Hawkfrost and Ivypaw are on the top. End ID] ID written by @curlfeatherstar

[noneorother]

The art director & the Good Omens book cover tier list of doom, part 1

part 1 l part 2

This is going to have to be a multi-part series because there are *checks notes* 64 different covers that I've found so far.

I am your resident Art Director/Good Omens enthusiast, and welcome to my completely meta-free book cover tier list. Listen, making a book cover is HARD. I should know. But while we salute these artists for their hard work and time, I think we can all admit that once in a while, the vision is just not on. And on very rare occasions, publishers seemed to have managed to commission the cover art directly from hell... 1. The original UK cover

Ahh, the standard by which all shall be judged. We're starting off with a nice & easy cover, with adorable woodcuts of Aziraphale and Crowley flanking a custom Good Omens font! While I have to take a few points off for the terrible kerning of the word "GoOD", the blockprint vibes and general bitchiness of Aziraphale's teeny weeny wittle face, along with the sick colour palette puts the orignial in my good graces. Tier: Great

2. The duelling US covers

Progress! Hail to the designer who figured out trying to make "GoOD" and "OMeNs" fit the same width was a fool's errand, and even managed to IMPROVE on the original handmade title by adding a little halo and devil's tale to the design. Aziraphale and Crowley are facing each other, while also managing to serve absolute cunt. Aziraphale is wearing EIGHTIES SNEAKERS. Crowley's little snake boots have HEELS. They've managed to keep the woodcut vibes and colour simplicity, while balancing out the full title of the book. Both authors get to trade off on who's name comes first! Dare I say, this is a work of genius. I could dock some points for Crowley's sad bat wings growing out of his right clavicle, but who am I to question greatness.

Tier: Blessed by God Herself

3. The Halo Master Chief(?) cover

How the mighty have fallen... As a Canadian child, I was subjected to maybe the most horrifying ad in existence by the War Amps warning children about machine safety. This cover is the paper embodiment of that ad. I am confused by the purple haze. I am frightened by the seeming ethereal flatness of Adam and Dog. I am strangely aroused by Aziraphale's eyebrows, and intensely saddened by the terrible outline/drop shadow they had to inflict on the type to fit "Pratchett" in that god awful space. Tier: WTF

4. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers

This cover inexplicably exists in two colour ways: red and teal. I put the audiobook cover here so you could experience the full illustration, and also how fucked up it is that they cropped the book version to include three horse-people of the apocalypse, but cut off DEATH on the regular cover. Points must be given for drawing a pretty slick Bentley, but I think we have to take even more points away for turning Crowley into a Ray Charles/Mike Wazowski hybrid. The ducks are nice. Tier: Not so Good (Omens)

5. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers continued

I don't know if the German designer of this cover *knew* that they were using western yeehaw cowboy woodblock letters when they made this cover, but judging by how they spaced the rest of the text at the bottom, THEY DID NOT CARE. And that seems to be a running theme for this one. We get kind of a duality thing going on with the black and pink background, but it just seems like somebody whispered the general themes of Good Omens into a jar, and threw it down a well, and this poor chap came along and picked it up. The baffling choice to align every piece of text on the cover *except* Neil Gaiman's name which is right aligned and rotated 90 degrees (not even real vertical type) will haunt my dreams, I think.

Tier: Bad

6. US, UK The Traffic Jam cover

For the love of Good Omens, WHY. I can think of so many more interesting symbols to put on the cover of this book than the ODEGRA SIGIL TRAFFIC JAM. Props for keeping the good colours and type, but like, I think this cover was secretly designed by @amtrak-official, or someone who just really, really likes public works. Tier: Does the Job

7. France, De bons présages cover

Leave it to France to make sure people know that Aziraphale and Crowley fuck severely. While I can't condone leaving out half the title of the book (and thinking a red carpenter's square counts as decoration), I can begrudgingly acknowledge that Ron Pearlman and Benedict Cumberbatch's love child is excellent Crowley casting. I think I give this a solid dark academia/10. Tier: Good (Omens)

8. France, De bons présages covers continued

Just imagine with me, if you will, the absolutely hilarious reality that this cover posits: Good Omens is exactly the same in every respect, but Crowley drives a pink 1950s convertible. Why do all of the colours on this cover look like they've been pre-digested? Why are the font choices and placement so bafflingly bad. My face is the demon's face holding that car. I feel his pain.

Tier: WTF

9. France, De bons présages covers continued

Minus points for not managing to write the full title of the book once again. I don't know what it is with the French. They seem pretty set on Good Omens being demonic. While I do appreciate a good Bosch-style demon party, the dude in the middle confounds me. All-caps Museo Sans that isn't even *centred* in the frame is just so lazy. I am le tired. Tier: Bad

10. France, De bons présages covers continued

Uhh. The font. The font is okay.... I think? Yeah. The font and kerning are. Okay. OHHH GOD I LOOKED DOWN BELOW THE TEXT WHYYYY. Tier: WTF

END of round one. I need a nap.

[seventeenpins]

never pegged you for a quitter

pairing: QZ!Joel x F!Reader x Tess

word count: 1.7k

summary: Joel gets pegged.

content/warnings: literally just Joel getting pegged. contains--threesome, pussy eating, choking, anal, fingering, fucking w a strap-on.

a/n: just a quick thought written whilst i've been procrastinating. pls someone peg this man. please.

The room was getting dark, the natural light that had been sifting through the moth-bitten curtains starting to wane as afternoon shifted into evening. The last of the setting sun shone through the panes in cuts of vertical light, bathing Joel golden, the fluff of his hair a soft halo.

"Really," Joel grumbles, his eyes dark and jaw ticking, "You need to do all a'that?"

"C'mon, Miller. Quit whining, this whole thing was your idea and if we're gonna do it, we're gonna do it right."

"Fine, fine."

Tess grins wickedly, admiring the way he's folded over, bare ass in the air, his tensed forearms pressing a heavy dip into the bed, bearing most of his weight. "Know you can take, it, Texas," she praises.

He huffs.

The room was cool, but you could see sweat start to bead at his temple when he turns back to look at you, and on the scarred plane of his back. His breathing had started to come in soft little pants.

You press a second finger inside him slowly, gently. Your entire hand was slick with lube at this point, your fore and middle fingers pumping slowly in and out of him, going a little deeper with every press, scissoring him open nice and sloppy.

"How's it feeling?" you ask.

"Honestly?" he frowns, "It feels like taking a shit in reverse."

Tess snorts and set off a chain reaction, the three of you suddenly shaking with laughter as your fingers still sit buried buried in his ass.

"You're really paintin' a picture here," Tess tells him, and he laughs again, but this time the movement makes him twitch backwards and inadvertently presses your fingers deeper and lets out an "Oh--"

"Oh?" you ask, and Tess is smirking.

"Yeah-," he nods and lets out a little moan that he nearly tries to swallow. "Yeah," he says again, voice tight, "Tha's it."

Taking the encouragement, you start pumping your fingers into him a little harder, a little faster, hooking them just so until he's moaning again and again.

A week earlier, Joel had walked in on you and Tess in the middle of a particularly good session. You hadn't expected him back for hours, so you figured you'd have your own fun and gear back up for round two when he got back.

Instead, he'd walked in right at the moment Tess came a fourth time, screaming and sobbing and gushing on your strap--a new acquisition you'd found on a run but hadn't had a chance to try out yet.

He'd never minded before when you played without him. Hell, you and Tess had been hooking up for years before you'd met him, so he certainly didn't have any claim.

But he'd never seen you with a strap, and he'd never seen Tess fucked quite like that, and certainly not by anyone but him, hissing and sputtering and convulsing with the sheer magnitude of her orgasm. You were on your knees, holding her up by her calves, ankles hooked around your neck while you kept a tight hold on her throat. You could feel the sweat on you, dripping from your temple, making your back and chest sticky, one bead falling from the tip of your nose down between your tits and then landing on her. Neither of you caring one bit--the wetter the better.

Seeing her dazed, soaking your cock, something akin to jealousy washed over Joel. But no, not quite jealousy. Or rather, not jealousy that you were fucking her like that. Rather, jealousy that you were fucking her like that.

He realised with a start, he wanted to be on the receiving end.

You saw the moment, too. Turned towards him the moment you heard his footsteps and heard the hitch of his breath, saw the way his eyes widened and his jaw ticked, until he noticed that you were watching him. Then, his stoic mask of neutrality returned.

But you saw the way his cock was tenting his jeans.

Saw the way his eyes flashed. How intently he watched the two of you.

You and Tess placed a bet; how long would it take for him to acknowledge it, outside of the moment.

He wasn't exactly the most open guy, so you guessed three weeks, and under the influence of pills or booze. Tess guessed two months, same circumstances. You were both wrong.

To the astonishment of both of you, it was only three days later when he approached you together and, shockingly blunt, put the request to you.

"You wanna fuck me with that strap?"

As a general rule, Joel's kinda quiet. Not that he's not able to raise his voice--he can and he does. And he'll get in moods, every once in a while, after he's heard from Tommy or you have a particularly good run, where he's not exactly happy or open but he is a little less guarded.

But you don't think you've heard him quite like this before.

His chest is heaving--heavy, ragged breaths. You're pressing the head of your artificial cock into his hole, and entering with a glide. You hold him by the hip to steady him, refusing to let him buckle as you pound into him. With your other hand, you press between his balls to feel the very root of his cock. When you first rub your thumb against it he's surprised, nearly jumping at the contact. You press the digit harder and stroke him between the balls and he lets out a moan. It's beautiful, and neither you nor Tess have ever heard that from them before.

It only eggs you on.

"Those fuckin' sounds, Joel," Tess growls, "I wanna feel those moans on my pussy."

He lets out a grunt of affirmation, uninterested in forming any actual words. Tess leans against the headboard and spreads her legs, glistening cunt bared for both of you to see.

You love her like this. Toned stomach. Muscled thighs held open, damp curls leading down to her drooling lips.

You wish you could be a creature of infinite tongues and infinite hands and infinite reach; want more than anything that you could fuck Joel and press your fingers into his mouth, stroke his cock, lick Tess's dripping pussy and pinch at her nipples, grab at her waist, her hip, her thigh, all at the same time.

But you're only a person, so you steady Joel as you fuck into him harder and take your pleasure from watching the way he hooks his hands under her thighs and pulls her towards him, tongue laving over her wet folds. You cherish every moan you pull from him, and Tess buries her fist in his hair, pulling him in even closer as she rubs her clit harder and harder against his willing tongue.

"Fuck, Joel, yes-" you gasp and he shudders. The base of the strap rubs against your clit deliciously and you can feel yourself getting close.

"Takin' this cock so nice," you praise him, "I know, I know-" you soothe, "It's big, huh? You're doin so good, so fucking good-"

He is still moaning as he devours Tess, and he's getting louder and louder.

"That's it," she breathes, desperate and hungry, "Doin so good, takin care of this pussy, fuck Joel! Don't fuckin stop-!"

As you've been fucking him, you've been ignoring his cock, applying pressure only at the base. Now, you wrap your hand along his weeping, neglected length and rub your thumb over the tip, gathering the dripping liquid.

He exhales something of a sob, and the sensation tips Tess over the edge. She's shaking and convulsing on his tongue, but she doesn't let go of his hair, and he keeps licking into her as she rides it out and keeps going.

You stroke his cock in smooth, fast strokes, your wrist flicking at the end, thumb and forefinger creating a tight circle, choking his tip.

With the grip on his cock, and the angle of your thrusts, he's shaking now, too. The tip of the strap presses just right into him, brushing against his prostate, making him see sparks.

"Mmmpphhh-" Joel grunts, and Tess pulls his head off of her.

"What was that?" she asks, and he whines.

"Gonna-" he's panting, brows furrowed as he looks into her eyes, but speaks to both of you. "Can't- can't stop. Gonna- fuck, I'm gonna come!"

Tess grins and pulls his mouth back down to her. You keep fucking into him in long, deep strokes that make him twitch with each thrust. "Come for us, baby," you tell him, and grab him by the balls.

You can feel the way he tenses, and the way his balls tighten and pull up towards his body.

Then he's coming with a cry that not even Tess's cunt can muffle.

He comes in heavy, thick spurts, again and again, painting the bedsheets, shaking as he rides it through, squirming with your cock still pressed deep in his ass.

"Good boy," Tess praises as she pulls him off her drenched pussy and strokes his hair. You can hear the shake of her voice, the way it's gotten huskier. Spent. "Did so good for us."

You hold him by the hip and pull out, delighting in the way he crumples at the loss of sensation.

He buckles and lands on his mess, seemingly unbothered. He rolls over and looks up at you both, and he's grinning. You've never seen him quite like this, this totally blissed out.

"Look at that, Tess," you joke, "I think he might need a cock up his ass more often."

He rolls his eyes, but he's still smiling.

"C'mere," he says, and splays his arms out. You undo the harness and let it fall, and then nestle into his side. Tess slides in behind you. Low lamplight illuminates the room, a soft yellow blanketing the space.

He takes a deep breath, still trying to even out his breathing altogether. "Thank you," he grunts.

"'Course." you press a kiss to his temple.

"Now, you better not be too worn out," he warns, "Cos you ain't come yet."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Ten minutes," he tells you, "Just need ten minutes."

He looks between the two of you.

"And y'all better not start round two without me."

[neosexuals]

YUNHO I SWEAR TO GOD no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick thribbing, first clenching, ear rining, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail stractching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magniticent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and i'd still ride it and I would give this man the sloppiest, wettest, creamiest, soul taking, slimy, life changing, death DROPPING, heaven sent, flabbergasting, hypnotising, ungodly, astonishing, leg trembling, back arched, hands desperately grabbing the sheets, legs stretching out again and again, toe curling, voice breaking, whimper causing, waist slowly moving up and down, small heavy breath " I can't take much more of this", breaths getting quicker, twitching, throbbing, eyes shut, lip biting, edging begging for relief, warm hot rush bubbling up, spit upon the tongue twisting ground tip-talking against the mouth, sideways spit from the end and lick from the bottom to the top then spit and lick to the bottom,

deepthroating, thrusting slower then faster, faster, FASTER twisting mouth around each side, spiritually enlightening, chakra aligning, mangekyo sharigan unlocking, golden light like a halo, noise from the very edge of his throat for the final, hardest release ever....and THEN I'd let him pound me so FUCKING HARD UNTIL HE IMPRENATES ME WITH HIS BABIES. My prayers for you be like no lube, no protection from the condom or the lord, all night all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the church, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, while i gasp for air and scream the lord's prayer, YOU sir can OBLITERATE me and uses no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponent al, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the ool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and i'd still ride it.

[kanaevamon]

Tabris/17th Angel/Angelworu reference sheet 2024

Ref sheet for the current design of my take on Kaworu's Angel form

height chart alt / backview - Wings of Light alt

(infodump about his biology and design under the cut)

Disclaimer: all the information in this post applies only to my AU version of Kaworu, don't take this as canon info about his biology as an Angel.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　

Feel free to take inspiration from the design or any other supplementary info in this post (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　

Introduction: Kaworu Nagisa is a genetic hybrid of human and the 1st Angel - Adam, born as a result of the Contact Experiment. He has lived and looked like a regular human up until entering the Central Dogma. The proximity of another Angel (Lilith) has resulted in a sudden change in gene expression, activating dormant Angel genes. The result was some kind of a rapid transformation/metamorphosis from an almost fully human body to that of an Angel. It has been referred to as Tabris, the 17th Angel, with this particular form being described as the High Angel Gene Expression form.

Anatomy and physiology: Standing at over 3 meters tall, Tabris is the second smallest Angel after microscopic Ireul. Its limited growth compared to other Angels is a result of constraints put on its body by the human part of the DNA. In general proportions, Tabris resembles Adam and subsequently - the Evas, with the exception of its overtly elongated limbs. Like Adam, it emits light, though not nearly as bright, and sprouts Wings of Light, spanning over 18 meters in width with an additional tail-like structure

During the metamorphosis, its core has resurfaced to the center of the chest, changing its position from the one more akin to that of the human heart. The central core containing S² Engine is very tough and resistant to damage but very sensitive to touch. It can become malleable and flesh-like if the AT Field is lowered enough. Instead of beating, it produces a soft humming sound similar to that of the Sun. Two smaller cores underneath it seem to help redirect generated energy to the lower parts of the body.

Additional core situated inside the neck area works as a transmiter, condensing energy from the S² engine before relaying it to the head. Such adaptation is a result of a much higher and centralised brain function compared to other Angels, which requires more energy to work properly.

Excess energy manifests itself in a form of three halos - two vertical ones with spike-like extrusions above the head and a horizontal one around the neck core.

As a member of asexually reproducing species, post-metamorphosis Tabris lacks any sexual characteristics, both internal and external.

Due to the volatile state of its DNA, there is a possibility of further mutations occurring if not killed or removed from the Central Dogma in time.

With enough damage delt to the central core, the transformation can be reverted, though not completely. The resulting form known as the Low Angel Gene Expression form (sketch of this form) is almost identical to pre-metamorphosis Kaworu, with the exception of visible main core and red markings adorning his body (basically looking exactly like the draft sketch) It is a result of the damaged core not being able to provide enough energy to sustain its fully changed form.

Thanks to the extremely powerful AT Field, Tabris' main core can be completely destroyed only by either him voluntary lowering the AT Field or being pierced by the Spear of Longinus. Destruction of the S² Engine results in Angel’s death.

Design notes: It is by no means a wholly new design, just a mere evolution of the ones that came before it. Two main inspirations for the design (like always) have been draft sketches and Adam. With Kaworu’s body being that of a human and Adam being a humanoid entity, I've decided to stick with a clearly humanoid design for Tabris. As much as I love more abstract Angels, I feel like this Angel/human duality is essential to Kaworu's character.

The most drastic change in this instance of the design is its shoulder area. I think these pylon-like structures work much better than spikes as it likens Tabris more to Adam (from what I gathered, these serve as restraints for Adam and Evas but I don't really care :v). Same goes for the change in proportions. Lengthy limbs add to the uncanniness and distance the silhouette from that of a regular human.

Here you can check out my design inspo board I went for with this iteration of Tabris

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　

Bonus info:

Here are some design explorations for Tabris that haven't been posted before + bonus Kawoshin :3

A few years back I've made sort of a rough storyboard for a short transformation animation, check it out here

At one point I had plans for a comic for this AU, which plot has been - I kid you not - revealed to me in a dream xD It has never come to a fruition because I suck at writing compelling stories

When it comes to its identity, Tabris would identify as agender and use it/its and he/him pronouns

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　

That's it for this long-ass post, if you're still here thanks for reading :D If you have any questions and/or suggestions, feel free to shoot me a DM or an ask (I'll probably come up with some shit on the spot because there's no rhyme or reason to any of this lore, it's just a bunch of random ideas rattling around in my head xD)

[eybefioro]

The hellish godparents!!

Wacky races - powerpuff girls - scooby doo - adventure time

(Timelapse and ramblings under the cut)

First of all, HAPPY ONE YEAR FOR THOSE WHO CELEBRATE THE BRAINROT!!!! Seriously, I didn't imagine I'd still be here a >>year<< later. I thought it would be just a month at best... ha, how naive of me.

God, I was obsessed with the fairly odd parents. I was (am) crazy over cartoons. I love cartoons. So. Much. Anyways.

This should be vertical but I ran out of space✨️ so I just flipped the drawings bc I still didn't learn how to properly use ibispaint to flip the entire canvas lol but it worked! SO YEAH.

I didn't notice before how much color and little details there is on fairly odd parents WHILE everything is hyper simplified - like the background on the posters! Also I noticed that the character more or less share the same bodies, only changing the details which was fun.

I got this idea when I drew The Wacky races one (side note: GO READ DRIVE ME TO THE MOON! it's great!) and someone said that it looked like the FOP art style (was it you @captainblou or am i misremembering?) and I just HAD to make it come true. It just falls into place so easily...

I had lots of fun with this one. I guess I'll keep putting good omens in every cartoon I love lol make this a series or something 💛

(Last side note. I'm pretty proud at the typography I did for the logo LMAO the s in hellish is a lil snek! The letters there are all pointy like stakes! The o in god parents has a halo like in gomens! I was able to get it all pretty close to the font they used in oddparents and I think that's nice 😌)

[syn4k]

hi

i have some ideas about halos.

so heres the idea: someone with a strong connection to their god (or demon or whatever it is that theyre worshiping) gets a halo from their affinity with said god. these are granted specifically by the god themself so not everyone has them. depending on their specific relationship with their god, the halo will appear in different places!

here's my expanded ideas for a few, as introduced in the drawing above:

classic halo

its your standard everyday floating above the head halo, nothing special about it

normally granted to priests

collar halo

hovers around neck

for followers who are Really, Really dedicated to their god. i mean really dedicated. "i will do anything even if i don't know what 'anything' actually is" level dedicated. you know how dogs are, right?

some wear it casually, some wear it like a noose, some wear it like a necklace.

basically works like a normal collar but can only be manipulated at the god in question's behest

armband halo

hovers around bicep, which arm it is depends on the follower's dominant (or preferred if they're ambidextrous) hand.

amputee followers are rare but in the case that someone doesn't have an arm the halo hovers at an angle above their shoulder instead

generally reserved for generals and other military leaders within the god's army if they have one

the hand

appears around the follower's dominant wrist

only seen on those who carry out the plans and will of their god down on earth. gods tend to not get involved in messy stuff so they find someone to do the dirty work for them down on the mortal plane. is also a play on the phrase "right hand man"

voice

appears around tongue

i feel like this one speaks for itself, really (HA).

not for proselytizers- only for those who speak directly for their god

the follower in question may be selectively or forcibly mute the rest of the time. it varies depending on the person and the god.

eyes

also quite self-evident. appears as a glowing band around the followers' irises (or iris). if they don't have eyes then the halo settles around the level of their eye sockets instead.

whatever they see, their god can also. this isn't a 24/7 thing unless said god chooses it to be. still, they tend to not get a lot of privacy

there have been a couple of blind followers designated their god's Eyes on Earth, which is pretty damn cool if you ask me (and also more than a little bit fucked up)

ears

halo manifests vertically around an ear

works the same way as the eye halo does but for hearing instead

the exalt

rarest

only seen with gods and possessed followers

appears as a filled-in circle of light behind the god or follower's head- if you're familiar with catholic iconography you'll understand what i mean. if not, just look up the wikipedia page for halos (religious iconography) and scroll the examples of christian art including halos

followers are rarely possessed by their gods because commonly gods have enough power to manifest a form on their own and need no vessel. a god in physical form may hide or obscure their halo at will. however, in the case that the god is too weak to assume a form of their own, they will sometimes take over a follower's body to intervene directly in a situation. the follower's body will assume the halo in this case and it cannot be hidden

shoutout to christianity for giving me the idea for this one. i got my problems with the jesus fandom but their character designs fuckin slap

some notes:

followers of one god can only have one halo at a time. polytheists can have several at once, one for each god, although this is extremely rare

followers with halos can naturally see each other's halos. those without have to look harder and nonbelievers (of any god) often cannot see them at all

i didn't intend the collar halo idea to be interpreted as a sex thing but if you want to do that then you can ig. im not a cop

yes the halos are customized depending on the god! some of them put time and effort into it. most don't though