#femme presenting angel

[redshoes-blues]

I’ve seen so many people saying that “of course the straight couple get the happy ending” (meaning ineffable bureaucracy), am I missing something? I thought Beelzebub was nonbinary ? Did I make this up in my head, or have people just forgotten because of the actor swap?

[allastoredeer]

Personally I think Alastor, Lucifer AND Angel are on the pretty boy side of the scale and none of that has to do with their preferences in bed. More like in... How to say it... Body type and behavior? All three are obviously men but don't quite adhere to the masculine/feminine dichotomy.

With Alastor it seems to me that he is closer to "masculine" but not in an alpha range, but in that he sees himself as a "gentleman" and at least a part of him consciously or unconsciously knows that the male representation has more privilege, but he doesn't particularly care as much

AAngel just does his thing, and I think Angel has benefited from and used looking more "delicate" or "feminine" more than once to his advantage in getting underestimated. I think that gender in general is quite fluid for Angel, but not so much because he has thought about it but because living and dead, roles have been imposed on him that he has taken as a mask for himself.I imagine he is very comfortable with himself now but the impression I got is that Angel oscillates between hating and loving his own traits due to how little control he has and how he is perceived.

(I'm thinking specifically about how he talks about his body and how attractive it is but sees himself as only important because of those kinds of things. After E4 it's obviously in a much better place. What I'm saying is that with Angel it's complicated because it's part his own feelings and part coping mechanis)

Lucifer actually exudes an aura of seduction, it's just those bedroom eyes and his whole vibe when he decides he's going to crush this guy he met 5 minutes ago. But I think the show did well to represent a beauty that tends more towards androgynous with him. And as we've already talked about, Lucifer gives off very versatile vibes, I think he would be the middle ground.

I definitely agree that all three of them are on the pretty boy side. Pretty, pretty, pretty boys

(I couldn't find a better gif of Angel forgive me)

Though, I do see Alastor more on the feminine side than the masculine side. He is a gentleman, but sometimes I think people lean too far into him being a gentleman.

Like, not to bring Websters Dictionary into this (Cambridge Dictionary technically) but the definitions of gentleman are:

A polite way of talking to or referring to a man. Obvious one, but not the definition people use.

A man of a high social class. Which, yeah, considering Alastor is an Overlord in Hell, technically he is part of a high social class. But that's not typically the type of gentleman he is depicted as either.

A man who is polite and behaves well towards other people, especially women: This is the one I think people lean on, which I find funny because Alastor is polite and he can behave well, but typically that is only aimed at women. Not people in general. I see him being a gentleman with women, but even then, not all the time - does that make sense?

Like, there are times he still acts like a mean little bastard, even to women (albeit less often) like when Charlie was having a break down in her bedroom cuz she found out her girlfriend has been lying to her for years and she'd essentially doomed everybody she cared about. Alastor had no sympathy for her, he didn't actually care about the situation, he went up there with the sole intent to get something from her. He was blunt, rubbed her situation in her face, and then gaslit, gatekeeped, and girlbossed his way into getting a deal out of her.

Yes, his words were crafted in a way that can seem gentlemanly, but that doesn't mean he was being a gentleman. He wasn't being polite, he was being a sassy, condescending little shit.

And I'm not saying Alastor isn't a gentleman, he definitely acts like a one when he wants to be, especially around those he likes or respects (like Rosie, Niffty, and Zestial - and yes, even Charlie and Vaggie). But like...most of the time? He's just a smooth-talking bitch with fancy words (affectionate).

Don't get me wrong, I definitely see Alastor as being a gentleman, but I don't see him being as much of a gentleman as people make him out to be, which actually might be the reason why he so often loses his clownish, trolling nature in fanon, because that gentlemanly characteristic he's been given implies some level of general politeness and good behavior, which cancels out when he's trolling and/or insulting people. He can be more passive-aggressively and subtle about it, like he did with Lucifer, but I still wouldn't call that being a gentleman.

I agree with Angel though! I think, while Angel has benefitted looking more feminine, he also enjoys presenting as feminine. I can see him being very fluid in it.

"the impression I got is that Angel oscillates between hating and loving his own traits due to how little control he has and how he is perceived."

THIS! ⬆️ Definitely agree with this. 100%. Perfectly said.

As for Lucifer, I do see the seduction side of him, even if I think it's overblown at times. He has amazing bedroom eyes. I agree that there is an androgynous beauty to him, but at the same time, idk a lot of the time, he still came off as very masculine to me. Could've been the way he carried himself. Could've been his voice. Could've been the way he spoke. Don't know for sure.

I think Lucifer can fluctuate before feminine and androgynous, but overall, he felt masculine most of the time.

[angelsandarsenic]

if someone says something to me like “who radicalized you” or “who put theses ideas in your head”—any variety of that, I will be way more pissed that you think I’m not independent/intelligent/that I don’t think enough to figure out my own ideals and actions, than about anything that led to that statement

especially if you do it more than once, I will fucking destroy your bloodline

[coredrill]

this is something i’ve talked about quite a bit with a friend, but i figured i’d share it here just because i think it’s an interesting and informative mindset to look at current media with… basically, i had the chance to talk to [writer who works for major media corporation, not involved with any of the examples i mention] a bit ago and they said that when they tried to include a trans character in their story, the direction they were given from higher-ups was that “they can BE trans, but they can’t SAY they’re trans.” and i think hearing this really made a lot of things click into place for me regarding, like, queer characters as a whole?

like. i think it’s the reason that someone like captain angel in strange new worlds can use they/them pronouns and talk to spock about not fitting into boxes but can’t SAY that they are nonbinary/trans. it’s the reason those gundam girls can propose and get matching rings, but as soon as a voice actor says they’re gay, bandai scrambles to “correct” it. kirara from jjk can have a middle school class photo that looks quite masc and in the present look very punk & femme, but not say the word trans. gwen stacy also cannot say the word trans while the screen flashes pink and white and blue as she begs her dad to just see her for who she is as his daughter. galo can give lio the kiss of life and then explode into a heart-shaped flame in a movie littered with pink triangles but not be called gay.

and all of this is obviously frustrating for a number of reasons, and it can be hard to parse intent when movies and shows CAN’T be as open as their writers would like them to be, but i think it’s worthwhile to keep in mind as a viewer? i don’t pretend to know what goes on behind the scenes of course, but i’d bet that’s why we’re getting to such a point where there are stories that are laughably blatant in how queer they are but which staunchly don’t claim to be - because if they DID, they’d lose the chance to tell that story before they could even try 😭

[hxhhasmysoul]

jjk tags and fags - translator assigned genders / fandom assigned genders

The people who translate this manga and anime just can't fucking help themselves with constantly assigning genders to characters.

Yuuji is not gendering Uraume in any way in what he says in the manga:

And he says the exact same thing in the anime: Ore dake hyoyketsu ga amakatta Sukuna kanren dana. That roughly translates to: The ice around me was half-hearted likely due to the connection with Sukuna.

He doesn't mention Uraume by name, which is very typical in Japanese which is a very context reliant language. But in the context it is clear that he is referring to Uraume's connection to Sukuna.

Uraume's gender is ambiguous on purpose, Gege is very deliberate in this.

Uraume of course isn't the only one.

______________________________________________

Other characters and their tags and fags.

Kenjaku

People who know them closely, like Tengen, always refer to them without gendering them. Sometimes the people who don't know them well gender them according to presentation like Takaba, or like Chousou who heavily associates Kenjaku with Noritoshi Kamo. And also those who think Kenjaku is Getou.

The fandom is super bad about Kenjaku, people insist on calling them he/him and making really homophobic and transphobic comments regarding their motherhood. Or the Getou fans just erase Kenajku and pretend that everything Kenjaku does is actually Getou...

_______

Tengen

She literally in open text says how she wants to be gendered. People use the preface where she says that technically as a cursed spirit she doesn't have a gender to pretend the next line doesn't matter. When the opposite is actually true. Even if Tengen could decide to forego having a gender after her evolution, she says nah, grandma, don't call me a guy. And then proceeds to indulge in masc presentation, Queen!

I personally get more annoyed when people use they/them for Tengen than he/him. The he/him people usually just read casually and remember all the times the translators called Tengen master and they haven't really paid that much attention to her scene with Yuki. But I've seen people use they/them on purpose to ignore Tengen's words.

_______

Kashimo

Kashimo is never gendered by the other characters. They use the personal pronoun "ore", which is associated with men but not used by them exclusively. It is rather harsh sounding pronoun, and as @/cursedvibes says it fits Kashimo who speaks in a crude and masculine way. Kashimo's modern day presentation isn't very gendered looks wise though.

But presentation =/= gender. Regardless if it's looks or speech.

Fandom will say well in the past life they looked like a guy and it's just rude to assume based on that :/

Also even if, maybe new life new gender who knows.

If Gege was trying to obviously gender Kashimo the 3rd person pronouns were right there yet remained unused.

_______

Kirara

I've written about Kirara's pronouns before.

I read Kirara as a woman and I explain why in the post above. I don't mind non binary readings because it's really not super clear.

And I don't even have some huge issue with people calling Kirara a high femme boy, though I personally don't read her like that at all.

As long as it's done in a kind and not transphobic or homophobic way. But alas the fandom is there to disappoint quite often.

_______

Angel

I don't know how are people confused about her gender this far along. I didn't remember that her gender was revealed when she actually started interacting with the other characters because Tengen'd spoken about her many chapters earlier. But Angel is very clearly gendered as "she/her". And she's been in the story for many chapters now.

[fellshish]

Why do you think crowley is trans? I'm honestly curious. Not hate meant.

Oh it’s not really a matter of opinion it’s just canon fact. Neil has said time and time again that angels and demons are genderless / don’t fall into human-like binaries. But even on the surface level of the show we see crowley present femme multiple times, of which nanny ashtoreth is of course the most obvious example, but also when they’re watching jesus get crucified is one of those (confirmed) moments.

Also if you look at crowley’s costuming, a lot of his clothes have a “women’s cut”, the silver bolo he wears etc... The costuming department on the show makes sure to bring a certain genderfuck element to this character.

In short, crowley is trans and would miracle a permanent tiny rock in terfs’ shoes.

[lavender-romancer]

Too Sweet

Rolan x Femme Reader

CW: angst, hurt, comfort, fluff

Despite his abrasiveness, Rolan only wanted to love and be loved. Every time he was almost close to you he ruined it in some way, until he didn't.

*°*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”°*

The so-called party after the Goblin leaders had been slain was as lackluster as Rolan had anticipated it would be. Your companions mostly drunk out of their mind and his fellow tieflings not far behind. Bringing some magic to the party was well within his repertoire and he intended to show everyone how skilled he really was. A beautiful illusion of a colourful firework show erupted from his fingers as he cast it. His siblings looked up at the display with the same look they usually had but it surprised him when he heard clapping. Turning he found your gaze, a smile he had not expected met his eyes.

“I didn't know you were so skilled in illusionary magic, Rolan.” You remarked, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow.

“I can remember when he could hardly cast that, constantly having us sit around for a fireworks show.” Cal whispered to Lia but in his drunken state it was more of a whispered yell that you definitely heard. Rolan cringed and kept his eyes on you as the illusion faded.

“I thought I should diversify my portfolio before I got to Baldurs Gate. Might be a way to impress Lorroakan, well not impressed but at at least show I'm more than evocation spells.” He rubbed his hands together, the strange prickly feelings he got in his fingers after casting an illusion was still ever present.

“I can show you how to negate the horrible feeling you get after casting an illusion, if you'll accept some brief tutelage?” Your smile was mischievous but your tone was entirely sincere and his fingers did still feel odd. Maybe it wouldn't be so awful… he nodded and suddenly you took his hand and pulled him to the beach not far from the camp. Your hand felt oddly well suited to his. Rolan’s siblings’ giggles rang in his ears but he struggled to bring himself to care too much.

“Come on then, what am I missing?” Rolan asked, arms crossed as you let go of his hand and a cold feeling spread through him.

“You're concentrating too much.” You said simply as if it was the easiest thing possible.

“How is it possible to focus too much? On a bloody spell?” he breathed out a sigh of frustration but you just smiled and took his hands in yours.

“If you stop being so grumpy, I'll tell you.” raising an eyebrow at him you cast a quick illusion of a cat on the sand next to him, it purred and laced its way between both his legs before settling at your feet.

“And you don't get an odd feeling in your fingers when you do that?” He asked, overly eager to learn.

“No, because I'm not focussing on conjuring my cat like it's the last thing I'll ever do. The weave should flow through you without you thinking about it, it's hard to master in a sense. You're concentrating on a spell but it almost doesn't feel like it because you're so enraptured in it all that it comes naturally.” You knelt down, ghosting a stroke on the cat's back before it disappeared, you stood back up with a smile. You looked positively radiant under the moonlight, it bounced off the water behind you giving an angelic hue to your face. Rolan was beginning to get distracted and suddenly realised that he hadn't been listening to what you'd said…

“Rolan?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face and he was brought back to the present, your smile still ever present.

“Yes, apologies. I was lost in thought.” As he looked down slightly at your face he couldn't help but be filled with a sense of hopefulness. Your smile emanated joy that he hadn't felt in a while, he knew that behind the wide smiles of his siblings was a deep sense of anxiety at their uncertain future. But you didn't seem to be tainted by the cancer of hopelessness and loss.

“Give it a try, still your mind and just imagine what you want your magic to do. Focus on the feeling rather than the illusionary magic itself.” You placed a hand on his arm and turned to stand next to him.

How he was able to focus at all with your hand fixed to his bicep was beyond him but, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes imagining home. The small study he worked in back in Elturel, the deep purple of the fabric embroidered in his office chair, oak furniture and his prized precious gems and fossils.

“Rolan!” You exclaimed, and Rolan opened his eyes to look at you. You began twirling around, looking at every expanse of his illusion with a smile. Even he had to admit the detail was the best he had conjured. “You did it! I'm so proud of you.” Leaping forward you pulled him into a close hug. It caught him off guard and his illusion changed around him as he wrapped his arms around you. Deep lavender tones surrounded the two of you with bright sparkles of white and gold shining through it.

Deep inside of him a feeling began to spread through his body, annoyance and it turned into an anger he hadn't expected. You thought you were better than him, he could tell. Oh let me help you Rolan, you're clearly hopeless, a hellspawn with no magical talent. Was all he could hear in your last words regardless of the thoughts validity.

“Elementary, I assure you. A child could have conjured it.” He let go of you and the lights faded, his face steeled as he looked at you and your smile faded. It tugged at a muscle in his stomach as he saw your expression change but he ignored it.

“What do you mean? I thought you wanted help with your-” but he cut you off.

“Oh great angel thank you for bestowing your help unto me so that I may conjure a fucking illusion. I don't need your pity nor do I need your help. Do you enjoy poking your nose into everyone's business or is it just my family?” He yelled and you visibly shrunk backwards, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively.

“I wouldn't have done anything if you hadn't agreed to do it. You… I thought we were-”

“You thought that we were what? Having a fucking moment? What a nice naive thought that would be when you aren't homeless and have only one prospect that has been delayed by your sheer ability to insert yourself into everything!” His anger was deep and seething now, all he could see was your pity. But his subconscious could see the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes and the way you comforted yourself through his harsh words, urging him to reach out.

“I apologise, Rolan. Have a good rest of your night.” You didn't look at him as you walked away, going straight to Shadowheart’s tent and visibly crying. Rolan didn't sleep that night, whether it was due to his anger or his hatred for himself he wasn't sure. But he knew that seeing you upset had left a worse feeling in his stomach than anything before.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After Cal and Lia had been safely returned to the Last Light Inn, Rolan tried to mask his relief and genuine emotional response- convinced that if he cried they wouldn't be far behind him. Of course when he saw you and your band of companions stroll through the door after his siblings he wasn't surprised. Perhaps a bit perturbed by the sheer amount of blood you were covered in but nonetheless he was relieved that everyone was alive and kicking.

That evening had erupted into more merriment than he'd expected, a tad more alcohol and songs than he would have liked but it was nice to see Cal and Lia happy (even if it was mostly due to the Firewine). Finding it slightly overwhelming when he was only tipsy he secluded himself to the only other bedroom in this whole bloody place beside Isobel's, hoping for some respite. But he wouldn't be so lucky, turning and being surprised by your form sitting cross legged on the bed with an orb of light hovering in your palm.

“Zurgan! What are you doing up here?” He exclaimed and you looked at him with a perplexed expression before slowly sending the orb of light around the room, lighting up every candle with an enchanted flame.

“I didn't realise the room was taken.” You smirked and it infuriated Rolan.

“Shouldn't you be down there, celebrating how bloody amazing everyone thinks you are?” He responded with slightly more malice than he intended but you seemed completely unphased as you uncrossed your legs and lay back on your hands, looking up at him.

“And what do you think of me Rolan?” Your eyebrow raised and you cocked your head to the side.

“I think you enjoy meddling and playing the hero.” He glared down at you but you once again seemed unphased and it was growing more and more attractive by the minute.

“Oh, come now my fellow spellcaster. Why be so harsh? Are you frustrated I did it before you could?” You were teasing him and it sent a bolt of arousal through Rolan’s body. It was entirely too warm in this room, your focused gaze and the wine was not helping at all.

“I- no! I do not meddle the way that you do. You think too much of your skills if you think that will get a rise out of me.” Rolan was a few steps from you and it felt more and more like he wanted to be closer.

“I think I've already got one.” You stood up and closed the gap between the two of you, Rolan went to speak but couldn't find the words to respond. “If I'd known how handsome you looked when you were quiet I'd have teased you more a long time ago.”

“Gods, why are you so drunk on your own ego?” His gaze was fixed on your lips and you smiled.

“Only when I'm talking to you,” reaching up slightly, you kissed him on the cheek as Rolans eyes grew wide. “If you want me to stop you only have to say so.”

He said nothing and so you carried on kissing up and down his neck. Paying particular attention to his jaw before licking his ear. Rolan let out a moan he didn't know he'd been holding in and it annoyed him a great amount when he saw your smirk.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked and it took all of Rolans strength to not pin you to the bed and fuck you. But he nodded and you placed a hand on his cheek before kissing him softly. He had never kissed anyone that was as bound to magic as he was, it felt like a melding of two energy sources. Intertwining with one another as they amplified their power.

“Why don't you hate me?” Rolan asked breathlessly between kisses.

“Because I can't be bothered too anymore.” You replied, running a hand up his chest and then across his shoulder.

“Why not?” His voice was smaller than he intended it to be.

“Why do you care? Don't you just want to sleep with someone and move on? It would be one of the only good things happening in this forsaken place.” You stood back, exasperated and sat on the bed looking at the floor.

“I- I don't know why I care. But I do. Why are you throwing yourself at me like this?” He regretted the words he chose the moment his mouth was closed. Your gaze slowly rose up to meet his, eyes so tired and there was a new look behind your eyes. No longer pity, but an anger mixed with sadness he had been the cause of.

“If that's truly how you feel, Rolan. Then I'll stop bothering you I promise,” you stood up and reached the door hoping he would turn around and take you in his arms. But he didn't, you left the room and stood on the other side of the door.

Taking a deep breath you could only remember how deeply embarrassed you had felt after the party a few weeks ago. You didn't plan on crying to Shadowheart again but it was definitely a possibility, you thought that maybe if you acted more aloof or something that he would want you. Maybe changing yourself wasn't the right decision, but you thought he might like you. If he just got past his judgemental front then maybe he would allow you to see him. Not the mask of anger that he often worem But he still pushed you away as easily as the first time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dread rose through your stomach and into your mouth, an acidic taste of anxiety because you'd be seeing Rolan soon. Due to your previous transgressions- at least transgressions in Rolans opinion- you doubted that he would be happy to see you. Your last meeting was plagued with judgemental words from him and actions that weren't really in your nature. Regardless of your anxiety, you needed to visit Sorcerers and Sundries for Gale.

It was a beautiful day, sun streaming through the windows and the stained glass ceilings as Rolan stood at the entrance desk. He often thought as he started his shift that seeing an employee at the welcome desk with a face if bruises and burns would be moderately unsettling. But Lorroakan hardly seemed to care. Rolan supposed that humiliation must be one of his Master's great loves considering how this was a usual and common occurrence. As the bruises seemed to heal and hope would rise up inside that maybe this was the end of the test, that he had passed, the beatings started again. It was always nonsensical questions that Rolan had no way of knowing how to answer, knowledge he should have been taught by now but wasn't given the opportunity. The only saving grace for him was that no one be knew was ever in the shop, it was curious children or worldly Baldurians never someone that he- oh fuck.

When he saw you walking through the door, a backpack slung over your shoulder as you stood to the back of your group of companions. Gale strided forward to speak with him. Rolan wondered why you were hiding from him, but he supposed it wasn't so outlandish given the last time you spoke and maybe the state of his face.

“Rolan! It's nice to see you again, who should I talk to about rare tomes and spells?” Gale asked with a polite smile on his face as he attempted (badly) to hide that he was looking at the bruises.

“Welcome to Sorcerers Sundries, home to much magical information, items and spells. Tolna will be able to help you with any rare tomes, she's over there by the other counter. If you need any more help, be assured I will do my best to assist you.” Rolan's smile was so painfully emotionless that Gale sought only to smile and walk over to Tolna rather than stew in the awkward situation.

Gale was accompanied by Shadowheart and Astarion but you stayed, still looking slightly down and picking up a pamphlet on the front desk. The air felt thicker and not in awkwardness but with regret and a tugging feeling in his stomach that he once again needed to apologise. But you didn't look up and he wasn't sure whether to interrupt your thoughts or leave you to your reading about the Nightsong.

“How has your apprenticeship been?” You suddenly asked, your fingers grazing the top of the pamphlet delicately as you refused to reach his gaze.

“Most beneficial, Master Lorroakan is a wonderful tutor and I'm enjoying my time here as I said I would.” His lying was hardly with any effort, he didn't feel like he wanted to lie to you regardless of what you thought of him. He could only hope that you would want to speak to him more due to the very clear lie. It was after he said this that you looked up at him with a hard expression that immediately softened as you stood closer to the desk and lay your palms flat.

“Rolan…” you breathed before you hand gently reached up to cup his cheek. He wanted to shrink away, pretend that he didn't need help and that he didn't want your attention but he couldn't. He was so deeply starved of a kind touch or basic human decency that he leant into your hand. “What has he done to your beautiful face?”

“I-I assure you. This is the result of backfired spells of my own doing.” Rolan gently took your hand off his cheek and looked down, unable to meet your sympathetic gaze. Did you pity him once more?

“Rolan, we both know that you have never been that careless.” You stood firm and tilted his chin up gently so he looked at you, his eyes threatening to spill tears.

“Please, for once allow me to have my privacy!” He exclaimed suddenly and without warning. “Everytime you enter back into my life it's to butt your head into every aspect of it. My spellcasting, my family, my character, the autonomy of my own face! I can handle my own problems and I don't need your righteous help.”

Your face displayed the deep deep hurt that spread through your whole body. Tears pooling in your eyes as Rolan looked at you with misplaced anger and frustration. He couldn't take it back, once again he had ruined it all. You wanted to help him, everytime you showed up it had been his fortune and you were too sweet for him. Too kind to deserve a bastard such as he. Maybe it was for the best that he scared you away with his harsh words, it's not as if they would subside. He was a selfish, rotten man who couldn't accept kindness if it slapped him in the face.

“I'm sorry, Rolan. I didn't-.” You paused, seemingly considering your words carefully before sniffing. “I won't bother you again. I promise.” You'd said that before and he'd longed that you hadn't meant it, now he wasn't sure if you'd ever speak to him again. Slowly, you walked away with your head bowed over to your companions. Shadowheart hugged you extremely close whilst staring daggers at Rolan who just about shrunk in her accusatory gaze.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Lorroakan lay dead on the floor, Rolan had to take a moment and sit down near the body of his dead Master. It felt like his own body might collapse next to him if he stood up for too long. So mentally and physically exhausted but, with a stark realisation that his dream was over, he would never be a great wizard. Who else would take on a hellspawn with no formal magical education? He didn't mourn Lorroakan in any sense of the word but he mourned what could have been, his now forgotten future.

“You fought well, I'm sure you'll turn this place around soon enough.” Shadowheart stood over him with hands on her hips.

“What?” He asked with furrowed brows and she rolled her eyes.

“Don't tell me you're just going to give up and leave? You're the Master of the tower now so you better use that power well. Starting with apologies to people who deserve them, hmm?” She cocked her head towards you. You were standing in the corner, shoulders hunched and making yourself even smaller as you stood near La’zel. The Githyanki almost seemed to be standing protectively next to you.

Rolan nodded and Shadowheart offered him a hand to get up, that for once in his life he accepted and rose to his feet. Brushing off his robe he took note of the blood smatterings.

“Could I speak to you?” Rolan asked tentatively as he approached you, greeted by the accusatory glare of the Gith.

“Oh, me? Of course. Yes.” You walked next to Rolan and smiled to your companions as they exited through the portal with Aylin.

“Thank you. For what you did here today.” Rolan said so earnestly that you were taken back- no backhanded comment or snideness, just humility. “Without you all here today I… I don't know how long it would have all gone on.”

“Honesty, I thought you would scold me for being so meddlesome in your business.” You smiled to yourself, looking down at your muddy boots.

“Well, whilst that is true. It was only to my benefit in this case. As it has always been, no matter how cruel I have been, you have indiscriminately helped me and my siblings. There is no way to thank you that expresses my gratitude.” Rolan was looking at you now and you weren't sure whether to reach his gaze, too afraid he would say something like last time.

“I would have done it in every lifetime, I hope you know that.” You slowly looked at him, ready to wrap your arms around yourself protectively once again. But, he looked genuinely touched, tender even. It made you hope that you could really be friends even if it was never anything more.

“I know I've ruined things with you, I assume irrevocably given my behavior. But if you'll allow me, I would like to be your friend even if nothing more would come from it.” Now he was flicking his gaze from you to the floor and back again, anxiously fiddling with his fingers.

“If that's all that you want then who would I be to refuse,” you smiled sadly. “I think it's nice to imagine what could have happened between the two of us."

"What do you imagine?" Rolan asked, suddenly anxious but hopeful.

"Oh, I don't know. A date or two. Magic with one another and learning new techniques, spending time together etcetera etcetera." Your smile seemed to fade away as you looked into the distance.

"And that would be... favourable to you?" He asked cautiously and you weren't sure how to take it, was he horrified or curious?

"Very favourable. Regardless of everything my feelings towards you have remained constant and I think I would be remiss to act as if I only see you as a friend." You paused, "But that does not mean I don't want to be friends. I understand that my opinion doesn't necessarily line up with yours."

"I- I can't tell if you're joking? You have feelings towards me even when I've been such a cataclysmic fool?" Rolan scoffed with an expression of genuine bewilderment.

"Has that not been painfully obvious from the beginning." You stated wanting to run away to avoid the possibility of rejection but no, you needed this.

"You want me?" He was once again, bewildered.

"Gods, Rolan. Please listen, I've been thinking about you constantly since the moment we met. Ready to drop anything and everything to help you because it was the right thing to do but that didn't stop my real interest in you. That only grew and despite the fuck ups I knew you were in stressful situations and you can never predict how someone will react." You paused looking down at the floor.

"I tried to change how I acted around you whether it was being more flirty or more reserved and everytime I would feel the same afterwards. I wanted you as myself, maybe I'm too patient for my own good but I don't care. If you don't feel the same for me I would still love to be your friend and a friend of your family because you're good people and I adore being around you all." You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from word-vomiting any further.

"I- that is a great deal to take in." Rolan paused, pondering what to say next you assumed. "I can't believe that I'm not the fool who has fallen for someone who could never see me the same way." His smile began to grow and he slowly reached out his hand to brush against your fingers that dug into your arm. You looked into his eyes and struggled to find deception within them.

"I once asked you what you thought of me, what do you think of me now?" You asked, linking your fingers with his and letting your hands hang between the two of you.

"I still think you enjoy meddling and playing the hero but, you're considerate and kind, much too patient for a normal person to be. But more than anything when I think of you I want to be close to you." He squeezed your hand before laying his other hand on your cheek.

The kiss the two of you shared, the first true kiss was beautiful. The trust between two people built up through conflict and displayed through an expression of your deep care for one another. It didn't feel rushed or forced, you weren't pretending to be someone else and Rolan didn't feel as if he had to deflect his feelings into defensive anger. It felt whole.

[ingravinoveritas]

Following up on this excellent post from @nightgoodomens, it really is astonishing to see so many people in the GO fandom misunderstanding the characters/personalities of Aziraphale and Crowley. While I by no means am against people having head canons or differing interpretations, it has become frustrating to see people pushing their ideas about Aziraphale and Crowley onto others and declaring them to be official canon, leaving no room for any kind of discussion.

One of the things spoken about in the above linked post is the denigrating of Crowley, which seems to be a near constant in the fandom at this point, particularly in relation to the "apology dance" scene. (Which, to be fair, is chock full of soft!Dom Aziraphale vibes--thank you, Michael Sheen.) What seems to keep getting missed is that the entire apology dance routine is something that Aziraphale and Crowley do to each other. There is just as much of a possibility that Crowley sat there with a similarly smug look on his face and let out a guttural, snakey "Very nice" when Aziraphale did the dance in the years he listed off, because they play this game together.

Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship is one of equals, and I think this is also something people seem to not understand well. It seems as though a lot of fans who project themselves onto Crowley want to be taken care of, and so they want to believe the same of Crowley, and that the reason he wants to be taken care of is because he is broken. But someone doesn't have to be broken to want someone to take care of them. Sometimes the people who are a shambles on the outside can be dominant, just as sometimes the most buttoned up, put together people can also be submissive. And sometimes the people who look in control on the outside can feel not at all that way on the inside.

But this nuanced thinking seems to increasingly be difficult for many GO fans, particularly those who spend a great deal of time on social media, a place where people are either blindly praised or denigrated and torn down, and where such behavior greatly reinforces that binary, black-and-white mindset. We so badly want the world to be clear-cut--good vs. evil, heroes vs. bad guys--but very often that just isn't how things work. And it is exactly what Terry and Neil were trying to speak against in the GO book (and subsequently, the TV show).

The other thing that I think influences a lot of fans' perceptions about Aziraphale and Crowley is their chosen corporations (i.e., Crowley being thin and Aziraphale being plump). There is an automatic assumption that thin somehow equals more vulnerable, and for all of the emphasis that is placed on Aziraphale and Crowley being genderfluid/nonbinary/not subscribing to traditional gender roles, it's Crowley who seems to be viewed as more androgynous/femme, and is therefore looked at as inherently vulnerable. Meanwhile Aziraphale is thicker and viewed as more masculine, and therefore he is somehow inherently not vulnerable. Yet if the body types were reversed, it seems highly likely that fans' attitudes toward them would be much different.

(It also saddens me that this seems to mirror the fans' treatment of Michael and David, where Michael serves as a target for the fans' venom and is seen as less desirable/more threatening because he presents more traditionally masculine, while David is not targeted or attacked and is seen as more desirable/less threatening because he presents much more androgynously. Consequently, many fans find it easy not to sympathize with Michael, and when you can readily disregard someone's feelings, it becomes easier to see them as "less." In the case of Aziraphale and Michael, it leaves no room for either one to be vulnerable and is unfair to both of them.)

What I have always taken away from Good Omens--and from Michael and David's portrayal of Aziraphale and Crowley and how deeply they both understand these characters--is that Crowley doesn't need to be a perfect angel for Aziraphale to like him. He just needs to be a little bit of a good person. And Aziraphale doesn't need to be a perfect demon for Crowley to like him--he just needs to be enough of a bastard to be worth knowing. Neither one has to fully subscribe to the other's outlook or point of view to listen to what they have to say.

Aziraphale and Crowley meet in the middle. In the place that becomes their side, and where they take care of each other, fight with each other, and love each other. And that's more than most of us could ever ask or hope for...

[thirstandfurious]

Straightwashing The Picture of Dorian Gray?

Two days ago, the Internet discovered a prospective Netflix adaption, that of The Picture of Dorian Gray into a tv show The Grays. (Deadline)

As the title entails, Katie Rose Rogers (writer) has made the choice to give the protagonist of Wilde’s novel a brother. She allegedly decided not to add a new Gray but to turn a pre-existing character into a relative of the oh-so-famous Dorian Gray: Basil Hallward.

The painter of the cursed portrait that contains and manifests all of Dorian’s flaws and villainy, the adoring artist infatuated with his muse and his beauty, one of the characters often analysed in queer studies of the novel, will be turned into Dorian’s brother.

Narrative license is a common occurence in the art of adaptation, but the writer’s choice raises some issues on the Internet considering the original novel, its impact on its author’s life, as well as its importance in the field of research and its role in representing queerness in history.

The Picture of Dorian Gray is an 1891 work of literature written by Oscar Wilde. The novel, itself derived from an early novella-length work, tackles the moral descent of Dorian Gray as it never takes shape on his forever-young angelic face (and thus going against the belief of physiognomic degeneration of its time) but instead taints a portrait made of him by a friend—the aforementioned Basil.

Connoisseurs and those less interested in the works of Oscar Wilde tend to know at least two things about the author:

one, he wrote Dorian Gray;

two, he was a homosexual.

It is no secret that his novel is submerged by the homoerotic feelings the characters harbour towards one another. While the characters do not overtly engage in romance—a feat which would have led to a bigger scandal than it already was—they do present characteristics that are outwardly associated with queerness. Be it Lord Henry and Dorian Gray taking on a mentor/mentee approach close to Greek pederasty (educational), or Basil and Dorian adopting the artist and muse situation-ship often reserved to male artists and their female objects of inspiration and idolatry, the male/male relationships in the book deviate from normative Victorian masculine and homophile behaviours and extend into unspoken homosexual territories.

In the case of Basil, transforming him into Dorian’s brother means erasing the scandalous and ambiguous relationship between the characters that is often read as being one of the many reasons behind the decay of the portrait, by denoting the repression of nonconforming identities. Basil is written as admiring the beauty of Dorian: he considers him his own personal muse, the driving force behind his art, one that cannot be beaten and that pushes him to be a greater artist. He is as enamoured with Dorian as the Pre-Raphaelites were with women.

In the uncensored version of Dorian Gray, made publicly available in 2011, Basil says quite explicitly to Dorian Gray:

"It is quite true I have worshipped you with far more romance of feeling than a man should ever give to a friend. Somehow I have never loved a woman.” (The Guardian)

In the version commonly read by the general public, Basil also tells Lord Henry (about Dorian Gray):

“I find a strange pleasure in saying things to him that I know I shall be sorry for having said.” (Chapter 1)

This simple sentence reveals an unusual relationship constituted of deviant expressions of sentiments between Victorian men.

In the Basil/Dorian relationship, the latter is feminised through his position as Basil’s muse, he becomes an object of desire and obsession, then an enactor of violence through his ever-lasting youth and beauty, making him a relative of the femme fatale type.

Erasing the grey area between the two characters diminishes the complexity of Wilde’s work as a public critique of Victorian gender roles and morality, especially in light of his own trial and prison sentence for which the homoerotic subtext has been used as proof. This raises the issue of straightwashing and how easy it is to erase queerness in the entertainment industry to accommodate to an heteronormative vision.

——————

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2011/apr/27/dorian-gray-oscar-wilde-uncensored

https://deadline.com/2024/08/dorian-gray-series-netflix-katie-rose-rogers-rina-mimoun-greg-berlanti-1236045373/

https://www.history.com/topics/gay-rights/oscar-wilde-trial

[good-omens-gallery]

Welcome to the Good Omens Gallery

This blog celebrates Good Omens fanart and fan artists.

Given the enormity of the Good Omens fandom, art is often posted, seen, and then fades to obscurity as new art is posted. Using a tagging system in a method similar to that of ao3, all art reblogged by on this account can be searched out by a multitude of factors, listed below, with additional tags on a second page of tags linked at the bottom of this post.

Art can also be searched by artist two ways: Go to the Good Omens Gallery home page and input an artist's tumblr handle into the search field at the top of the page. Or, click on the artist's tumblr handle in the tags of any post.

Art Tagging

Art is tagged with as many factors as apply to a work. This means that when viewing the "wings" tag, for example, art that is also tagged for mature or nsfw factors may also show in results. Please keep this in mind when browsing by tags.

Good Omens Gallery Tags

Tags on this page are specific to Crowley and Aziraphale. Additional tags are available at the bottom of this post.

Crowley & Aziraphale

Crowley + Aziraphale 💛

Ineffable Wives (both femme presenting)

Reverse Omens (Demon Aziraphale, Angel Crowley)

Ineffable Parents (co-parenting family, plants, critters, +)

Critter Omens (anthropomorphic rep)

Aziraphale

Aziraphale (all)

Angel Aziraphale

Artist Aziraphale

Aziraphale in alternate clothing

Aziraphale in glasses

Aziraphale whump

Bamfziraphale

Detective Aziraphale

Fell the Marvelous

Femme presenting Aziraphale

Brother Francis

Bearded Aziraphale

Protective Aziraphale

Serving face Aziraphale

Supreme Archangel Aziraphale

True angel form Aziraphale

Crowley

Crowley (all)

Bildad the Shuhite

Crawley

Crowley being a sh!t

Crowley loves critters

Crowley whump

Disco Tony

Duke of Hell Crowley

Femme presenting Crowley

Hero Crowley

Long hair Crowley

Nanny Ashtoreth

ngk!

Plant parent Crowley

Protective Crowley

Snek Crowley

Starmaker (pre-fall Crowley)

Themes

Almost kiss

Angel tummy

Angst

Arm in arm

Art for fic

Art inspired by music

Art inspired by poetry

Autumn

Aziraphale loves food

Aziraphale removes Crowley's glasses

Body swap

Book reference

Comfort (h/c)

Cooking & Baking

Crowley likes to watch

Crying

Dancing

Date night

Ducks!

Famous painting repaint

Fallen

Flaming sword

Flirting

Freckles

Gardening

Gift giving

Holding each other

Holding hands

(On) Holiday/Vacation

Hugging

'I was wrong' dance

Invisible unbreakable thread

Jealousy

Kissing

Laughing

Marriage & Proposing

Musicians

Picnic

Pining

Possessive

Pregnancy

Pyjamas

Saucy (suggestive/mature)

Scars

Sleeping

Snuggling in blankets

Sock suspenders

South Downs

Spicy Omens (nsfw)

Stargazing

Summer

Sweet talk

Tattoos

Teasing

Thick thighs save lives

Thirsting

Undressed (partially or fully)

Wings

Wing grooming

Yellow

Because tumblr limits the number of links in a post, the following tag categories can be found at the link below.

Art by eras/scenes

Art by characters & ships

Art by holidays & special celebrations

Art by type

Art by posting year

Good Omens Gallery Filter Tags, Part 2

[grxmreaperx]

ok but what about Strahm with an s/o who is younger? 👀

oh my god this man would be SO protective!!!

Warnings: bit of smut towards the end, 18+!!

i think Peter would love having a younger s/o, but would also just be stressed all the time

not because of you, but because he's ready to arrest anyone who looks at you a little too long

takes you to a shooting range to teach you to shoot a gun

(and wrapping his arms around you from behind to "fix your form")

always holding your hand or wrapping an arm around your waist in public

he really tries not to be overprotective, but with his profession and the cases he sees, it's very hard for him not to be, especially if you're a femme presenting person

teaches you self-defense

if you're a college student, he always forces you to take study breaks because he knows what being overworked looks like and REFUSES to let you work for too long

pretends to know the music you listen to and the slang terms you use, and then is frantically Googling later (and asks Perez for help)

also you would be best friends with Perez bc i love her and i say so

now on the spicy side 👀

would LOVE if you called him "agent" in bed

idk what it's called, but would have something similar to a corruption kink, but instead of "corrupting" you he just wants to teach you how to make both of you feel good (innocence kink? is that a thing?)

"that's it baby, you're learning so quick. doing so good for me"

i think Peter might be hesitant at first if you told him you had a daddy kink, just because he wouldn't understand why you enjoy it

but the first time he hears you moan "daddy" while you're caged under him, he totally understands

"oh fuck, say it again angel"

tag list: @bee-who-isnt-french, @enigmatic-blues, @kujofam, @aliengutzstuff, @mysunfishpeedinmyroom, @schrodingersjigsaw

[eatmangoesnekkid]

Cassie: Friend, Soulmate, and Self-Regenerating Muse

One of the ongoing themes of my multi-book series is The Muse: the consciousness, archetype, and ways of moving and being of the Muse, who is the Muse and why this energetic matrix is important for every femme to embody for her aliveness and manifestation potential. I made a major edit in this chapter after randomly meeting someone one warm day in Amsterdam recently. The chapter now opens with a story about her.

Cassie is her name and she is stunning. I don’t know what it is about Amsterdam but I rarely—meaning—never —meet people I feel a deep soul kinship with. To be fair, I spend more time biking in Amsterdam instead of walking because the weather is often trashy. But walking is my favorite exercise and I tend to walk a whole lot more in other cities when I’m traveling because, hello, beautiful weather. But on this warm beautiful Sunday in Amsterdam, I joyfully walked everywhere. That’s how I met Cassie, an Indonesian and Surinamese (Black) 38 year old Goddess as she was lightheartedly and confidently sashaying down the street in her short denim dress with peak-a-boo air holes cut out on the sides which illuminated her waist.

She was alone with no cell phone or bag, casually strollin' to her own rhythms while licking a vanilla ice cream cone and delighting in her own innocence and pleasure after walking through the city for hours I would later find out. That is so me—walking for hours in a city and getting lost without a cell phone on me. It was like seeing myself and one of my favorite Minnie Riperton album covers come to life in full-size, "Perfect Angel," the one where she is holding a dripping ice cream cone while smiling so sweetly. Suddenly Cassie made a u-turn and sat on the bench directly across from me. I knew I had to say something to her.

The first thing I said was “you must tell me what you do to have that kind of body.” She responded “you must tell what YOU do to have that kind of body.” She reminded me of me so much—it was dreamy and surreal as watching a Maya Deren “black and white” film yet it was as real as human flesh and a beating heart. You know what her answer was?! “I don’t workout my body. I just workout my mindset and emotional body.” I responded with all manners of celebration “you magical neuroscience quantum theory Gawddddd.” We both laughed! We ended up talking for 4 whole hours— nerding out on everything from quantum physics and metaphysics to speaking about our dreams, love, farm life, and why high-quality, non-extractive penetration (when mutual love and reverence are present regardless of the 'relationship status' between the two) is essential for the healthy shape of a woman’s body and to liberate the deeper coiled wisdom living in her female tissues that no male guru in India could ever possibly understand or teach. It felt like Cassie and I had only been sitting there for only 30 minutes. She was my muse and I was hers. We went on a real journey together.

To open yourself up to The Muse and allow this regenerative consciousness to be your lighthouse in the world requires devotion and a kind of playful endurance and resiliency where you begin to hold a quality of self-worth that does not allow you to give up before the miracles start to happen in your life. Being able to follow a dream -your heart's desires and big visions, capable of trusting the process of what is being divinely asked of you to do and not give up, truly embodying the mindset of a divine being, yield a greater energy of pure power. And what I know about energy is that everything is sourced from it, even though it appears physical to our eyes.

Of course, if you desire to work through the physical/3D world/matter, those things you can logically track and measure, you can. But the truth is that you access more infinite power to shift your body and whole life when you begin to tune into E-N-E-R-G-Y, the subtle, immaterial, and invisible, the spirit that lies beneath the surface, like blessing your food and directing it to travel to the parts of your body you’d like for it to energize or nourish, to make more shapely or healthy. Also, getting into energy work and metaphysics, the essences of your chi, makes you prettier like a beauty ritual, more naturally attractive, magnetic, and wiser. I can’t wait to finalize this chapter and share a snippet here. Yum!—India Ame’ye

[angelshizuka]

Unpopular opinion but most Hazbin/Helluva rewrites are shit. And some of them are literally the same thing that happens in canon but in a very worse way, everything needs to be explained in almost an anime monologue way. Etc. And I also hate redesigns that destroy everything that makes the characters's unique, like ripping off Husk's wings, making Angel masculine cause femme presenting is bad I guess, making Stella and Val "ugly" and "fat" cause you know, abusers are ugly and fat and beautiful people cant be ugly lol

In concept redesigns can be fun, because it's not that different from the design process characters go through during production and it's fun imagining what they could've looked like if different choices were made. But it's the "fix it" attitude that makes these redesigns so bad/painful.

I especially hate the Stolas and Lucifer redesigns that make them these "big buffy scary leaders", because it completely misses the point of what these characters are in THIS version of the bible lore (I don't know enough about the original lore to comment on that, but I do know HH/HB is far from the first to change things).

Lucifer being an "nonthreatening silly short king" is literally the point. He's a misunderstood angel who got unfairly punished, because heaven is corrupt. He's not "the literal embodiment of evil that loves ruling his evil minions in hell" and neither does Lucifer want to come across that way, he hates being down there.

Same goes for Stolas. The entire point is that he's supposed to be a "weird lanky bird" who looks nonthreatening and is an outcast among his own species. The guy's just a nerd who wants to read his books and feed his plants in peace and suck some red di--

And ngl, Lucifer and Stolas being the way they are is exactly WHY I fell for them so hard. I usually don't care about interpatations of these characters in other stories.

[theeyebrowexpress]

There’s this consistent trend I see in Hazbin fan content where it’s popular to portray Angel as beautiful, dainty, needy, and wanting to be saved. Meanwhile Husk is essentially the tall and forceful knight in shinning armor, whisking Angel off his feet and always being there to rescue him.

I’m not saying this is always bad- it’s cute! It’s fun, but because it is such a common trope within this fandom, I feel compelled to ask if that’s what we think of Husk and Angel.

Do we think of Angel as a damsel in distress? The eight foot tall mobster spider? The “I can handle myself, baby,” guy? The one who grew closer to Husk through a combination of respect and blood?

Angel needs help, but he does NOT want to be rescued. His femininity being used as a reason to pity him and see him as weak is exactly what he would hate and borders on a disturbing view of femme presentation as a whole.

Husk, on the other hand, is 1. Not tall 2. Not a knight in shining armor 3. Not always going to be the one doing the saving.

Literally gets saved in episode four by Angel before they end up fighting back together! They’re good for one another, they’re friends, they’re partners.

They’re losers on equal footing in this point in their life. Whittling them down to the expected stereotyped of masculine and feminine personally rubs me the wrong way, especially since I feel Hazbin Hotel excels at going against those exact types of expectations.

Obviously continue to have fun and make the content you want to see, I’m some dickhead online, i wrote this out as a way to vent from the feelings surrounding all of this. See yah.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello beautiful librarians! Thank you for keeping me sorted with fic to fill the long gap between now and series three. (As I'm writing this S3 hasn't been commissioned yet but who knows, maybe by the time you post it will be?!)

Anyway, I'm looking for some recs for spicy fic, Aziraphale/Crowley pairing, where one of them is wearing lingerie / stockings and the other is taking their time to appreciate it fully before ravishing them. Any gender presentation, any "downstairs effort", as part of a larger fic or just a smaller delicious scene. Anything is welcome! I just saw some lingerie type fanart and I need moooore! Big thanks in advance!

Hi! We have a #lingerie tag. Here are some more fics to add...

The Way That You Hold Me by AngieWords (E)

"Have you ever had any thoughts about my other...forms?" Crowley is interested to find out how Aziraphale will react to exploring a different corporation together. Aziraphale is very interested indeed. Or: Crowley gets nostalgic for his femme-presenting days

Underdrawing by spunknbite (E)

Lace. Just a hint of it: white, peeping out from under the waistband of Aziraphale’s trousers. A finely woven pattern of sprigs of roses and briony linked together with intricate diamond thread work. There was something vaguely Victorian about it, suggesting a handcrafted wedding veil or perhaps the contents of a hope chest. The lattice clung tightly to the pale skin beneath it, pearly lace on pearly skin, creating an almost tattoo-like appearance as if the design was threaded onto his very flesh in only a shade lighter than his own tone. Well, fuck.

Pin An Angel Up by Dibs_Drabbles (E)

Aziraphale was a lingerie model for a newlyweds' magazine, under the guise of Miss Azra Fell. Despite her short-term career, Miss Fell was granted her own special edition magazine, featuring her and only her. The angel had kept it hidden in plain view, quite oblivious to the chance of a certain demon stumbling upon it. And that certain demon was very much thrilled with what he found. - Aziraphale modelled for a lingerie magazine back in 1950, Crowley finds them and thus uncovers a whole arsenal of kinks to explore for the two of them.

Spread Your Wings by foolishlovers (E)

In the glamorous world of high fashion, Crowley shines as a household name. Unfortunately, so does supermodel Aziraphale, who repeatedly lands bookings for the same jobs. When a photoshoot mishap traps them in a studio overnight, their simmering animosity escalates to its peak. Literally.

Tryst at the Ritz by almaasi (E)

Aziraphale nodded, and said, sweetly, “After dinner, Crowley, you and I, we’re going up to a private, luxury suite, and we’re going to make love.” Crowley blasted red wine across the table in a fine spray. (A fic in which Crowley and Aziraphale get a wiggle on, in the Biblical sense.)

Dangerous like Spun Sugar by Nejinee (E)

Crowley really wasn't prepared for any of this. She was a demon of hell, a fallen angel, and also - evidently - a fucking idiot. -- Or, how Crowley had never cared about the inherent sexiness of lingerie until Aziraphale started talking about her own lingerie.

- Mod D

[divine-donna]

Impressions

pairing: tashi duncan x bipoc! fem! reader

word count: 1.9k words

context: 2019. los angeles. tashi duncan is looking to cast the protagonist for her newest film. she finds the perfect actor for her protagonist.

no specific pronouns used. reader is able bodied and can speak. reader is about 25, while tashi is 31/32.

this is me dipping my toes into the ghostface au. based on this post. if people really like this, then i will continue to write more.

Tashi Duncan.

Actress. Director. Producer. Screenwriter. Sometimes cinematographer.

Her list of credits are long. A child actress who evolved beyond the children’s sitcoms that your younger sister was obsessed with. You remember seeing her so clearly, seeing her laugh, seeing her cry, seeing her amazing fashion sense. Tashi Duncan was beloved and an icon.

Furthermore, she knew her standing.

She talked about the hard things, the things that kept so many people out of the industry: stereotypes and typecasting, racism, sexism, queerphobia. Tashi Duncan was a phenomenon, but only outside of the context of her being. She was an abstract to the industry, in an attempt to make her more appealing to their “base” demographic.

Some of them kept you back, kept you out. You were hoping this would be the moment where things would change for you.

You were an adjunct at a community college. You taught the basic writing classes. Most of your students were freshmen. On the side, you auditioned, did the occasional improv show, and helped students and peers with their films. You loved the movies. You loved films. You loved acting. You loved it all. You were excited to be teaching a class on film the next semester. One of the units, you knew, you wanted it to be on auteurs. What film would you show? What would you assign your students?

Reading helped pass the time when you were waiting for your name to be called. An open call casting for a new horror film by Tashi Duncan. The perfect opportunity for you. You remember the description: Non-white woman or femme presenting person. Mid 20s to early 40s.

You found that reading the script over and over again could cost you an audition. You would overload your brain, causing it to short circuit. You’d forget lines, stumble over your own words, and your cheeks would burn with the sense of humiliation. So instead, you were reading your book, highlighting and making notes in the margins. How many people would strangle you for such a crime?

“(Y/N) (L/N).”

You snap the book closed.

The room smells sterile, like they had soaked it in bleach and Febreeze. You almost wanted to choke. You were expecting to see a casting director. But in the middle of the table, with her sunglasses resting atop of her head, was Tashi Duncan.

She wore a combination of silver and gold jewelry. You recognized her gold cross necklace. The button down dress showed off her legs, bringing your eyes to the wedges that matched the white and blue vertical stripes. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. Her brown eyes scan you. She saw right through you.

“Auteurs and Authorship.” Her voice commands the entire room. The door clicks shut behind you.

“I’m…sorry?” You’re so small in front of her.

“Barry Keith Grant. Your book.”

“Oh. Yes…”

“Interesting. An amateur move.” She folds her hands together on the table and leans forward.

“Could you…explain what you mean by that?”

“Makes yourself seem interested in the…intricacies, we’ll say, of film. Gives off the impression that you’re an academic. You’re a real film person.”

“Ummm…I do work in academia. I’m an adjunct. It’s what I do on the side.”

Tashi’s eyebrows rise. “Really now? Do you teach film, then?”

“Not right now. That’s the plan for the fall. I’m trying to plan the syllabus out.”

“And you want to talk about auteurs?”

“At some point.”

Tashi leans a little bit more forward in her seat. “Do you think I am an auteur?”

What a complicated question.

“Well…traditionally—”

“I don’t want the traditional answer. What I want to know is if you think I’m an auteur.”

Your mouth is dry. This had to be some sort of trick question. It had to be some trap. Piss off enough people and you’re done for good. Tashi Duncan was a phenomenon and if she wanted to, you could be erased. Hollywood did not provide the environment for solidarity. If one door opened, another door closed. If one movie was a sensation, then any movie that bore a resemblance (a resemblance that wasn’t even a resemblance) to said movie would just become that thing, reduced to that thing, ignored in all of its nuance and creativity and its passion. You lick your lips. “I think…it’s hard to tell.”

“And why is that?”

“Well you just started directing. You have three films and a couple of television episodes. Most of your credits are acting. And auteurship is thought more in terms of directing than acting. If you want to ask if you’re a star, then absolutely you are. But an auteur? I would wait some time. I don’t think three films and some television episodes is enough for an auteur study.” Your heart was pounding miles per hour. You were anxious, on the edge. “I’d want to see what else you’re doing. The landscape is always shifting and naturally, so is your auteurship.”

You can see the way her jaw unclenches. Or clenches? It was hard to tell. She detangles her fingers from one another and leans back into her seat. “If you need to use the script to read the lines—”

“I remember my lines.”

“Well look at you. Well prepared.” Tashi clears her throat. “The set is quiet. Everyone is on edge. She turns to camera 3 and speaks.”

Like a puppet, you speak.

“No, no.” You shake your head, reading the essay. You highlight a portion and then type up your comment on the Canvas page. You’re probably giving the student a heart attack right now, if they have the app on their phone. A constant stream of vibrations as the instructor leaves an annotation on their submission document. You drink your lemonade soda. Blueberry lavender lemonade soda. It was always your go to, along with a cranberry orange loaf slice. It was a small cafe by the college with cheap food and cheaper drinks. Very popular among the students.

“You work a lot, huh?”

You look up from your computer. You’re tempted to close it, but you don’t. You lean back in your seat. “I tried calling you. But you wouldn’t pick up.” Tashi sits down in the seat across from you. Her hand reaches out and she closes the laptop. She doesn’t want to look at your stickers.

“I keep my phone off during the work day. Gets things done easier.”

“You don’t listen to music while working? Or anything of the sort?”

“I do it through my laptop. They have a Spotify desktop app, you know.”

A smirk is curling at the corner of her lips. “You’re quick, I’ll give you that.”

“So, you came to tell me I didn’t get the part? Personally? It’s a lot better than a lot of other people.”

“I read your resume. Couple of extra roles. A role on SVU for three episodes.”

“Doesn’t everyone go through SVU?”

“You’re not wrong. And a couple of short films. One of them critically received. And yet, no credit. No invitation to the award shows.” Tashi shrugs. “Nothing. What’s up with that?”

“What do you think? You work with some white people and a nepo baby. And the nepo baby takes everything that was supposed to go to you. It’s like a more fucked up version of Lena Lamont and Kathy Selden except there’s no retribution and the nepo baby isn’t talented at all but apparently their film is good.”

“You’re a little film critic, huh?”

“If you want to be a good actor, a good filmmaker, generally good in the process, shouldn’t you be a film critic? Lot of the greats got started in film criticism. Lots of people start their career by criticizing and addressing discrepancies.”

“Like what?” Tashi folds her hands and places her chin atop of them.

“Well, this is kind of a basic example. But The Watermelon Woman. Cheryl Dunye notices this discrepancy in old silent films where Black actors were not credited. And if they were, sometimes they'd be credited by a stereotype like The Mammy or, in the case of the pseudo-documentary film, the Watermelon Woman. And in the film, she’s creating an alternate film history that addresses this erasure of Black actresses and particular sapphic, lesbian Black actresses. So what does Dunye do? Make a cornerstone of Black and lesbian cinema.” You shrug.

“And is it on your top four on Letterboxd?”

“It is, yeah. Do you have Letterboxd?”

“I do. It’s a great way to interact with the fans.”

“Like Sean Baker?”

“We follow each other.” She shrugs. “He likes my reviews every once in a while. I enjoy that he talks about his viewing experience for the movies he watches.”

You pick up the small plate and take a bite of your loaf. The sour cranberry cuts through the sweetness, giving you that perfect balance of tartness and sugar. “Well, if that’s all you want to talk about—”

“I’m giving you the part.”

“What?”

You stare at Tashi with disbelief. She pushes her sunglasses up to rest atop of her head. You just realize that she’s wearing a sleeveless black turtleneck. Her cross necklace glimmers in the sunlight. “Me…the part?”

“You gave the best performance. And everyone in Hollywood is a yes man. I don’t want a yes man. I want someone who’s going to engage with my material critically, who understands what I want to achieve. Who has a knowledge of film history.” Tashi pulls out the script from her purse and sets it atop your laptop. It’s quite hefty. “I want notes. I want revisions. Production doesn’t start until next month. So cancel teaching. Find someone to sub in. Maybe a grad student. You’ll be filming a movie instead.”

A movie with me, was what she was really saying.

And you’d be stupid to miss out on this opportunity.

“Yeah…yeah. Of course. Of course!” You were in utter disbelief.

“Tried to call you to tell you that. But you didn’t pick up.” Tashi stands up from her seat. “The movie’s…a bit out there. Little something I’ve been brewing for years. They want to promote it as the next Get Out and Us.” She rolls her eyes. She pulls out a small notebook and scribbles her phone number down, placing it on top of the script. “It’s anything but. Think about it in terms of…exaggerated autobiography mixed with real life tragedy and homages to Dario Argento and taking inspiration from Santa Sangre.”

You weren’t the only cinephile, it seems.

“Yeah,  yeah. That sounds really interesting.” You swallow your own saliva nervously. “I-I’ll come back with notes.”

“Great.” Tashi reaches out. She holds your chin between her fingers and her thumbs wipe away some crumbs on your lips. Your lips explode with heat, her touch leaving tingles. “You better not disappoint me.”

She pulls her hand away too soon.

“I’ll see you in two weeks. My house. I’ll text you the address.”

You watch her walk back to her car, an Astin Martin. She pulls her sunglasses down and gives you one last glance, as if trying to take you in your natural habitat. Was she studying you? Studying your natural self to get a sense of how she would direct you? She turns to face the road and pulls smoothly out of her parking spot.

And that was how you started working with Tashi Duncan.