#good omens is my permanent roommate

[phantomram-b00]

Been wanting to do this for sometime so here are some of my headcanon for Autistic Aziraphale.

Please note that Autism is a spectrum and that everyone’s have a different experience because some of these are hc are based on experiences I have as an autistic person or maybe other might’ve too. So please be mindful, but hope you guys enjoy and feel free to ask any questions. (I love this gif)

Headcanon 1:

Aziraphale isn’t comfortable with crowds or at the very least crowds that might be noisy or isn’t his usually spaces or familiar with (I.e his bookshop, Give me coffee or give me death, etc) so he usually just wouldn’t want to go or if he does try it, he’ll bring his yellow Walkman Crowley got him so he can listen to music since music calm him down.

Headcanon 2:

He’s the type to want to listen to any other songs to not get out the comfort zone so if he does, he would have to listen to them twice or three times in order to decide if he like the song or not. (Idk if this one odd let me explain, it something I do since I don’t like to listen to different songs that isn’t in my comfort zone let alone song that aren’t my usual so if I did listen to it I would have to listen to them fully two or three times to see if I like the lyric, rhyme and beat. Just to make sure it not too loud, repetitive, or fits in my comfort zone for me. But also the lyric the factor since I like interpreting songs, probably why I like The Crane’s wives for example or even Laufey sm.)

Headcanon 3:

Hardcover > Paperback because he likes the feeling of the hardcover then he does with paperbacks. But also he feels the texture is better. Hence why most of the books in his bookshop are hardcovers.

Headcanon 4:

He does have specific food textures he doesn’t typically like. Like bananas, if the bread is too flakey, rice is too hard, some sandwiches or eggs. So he stays away from it and stick to his safe foods like sushi, pears, cakes.

Headcanon 5:

Crowley love it when Aziraphale hyperfixates and talk about his favorite book he reading because it fill him with love to see that Aziraphale find something he loves. It actually took Aziraphale some time since heaven would often interrupts, ignore or blatantly brush him off to cut it out leaving Aziraphale to feel insecure about his special interest. Ofc it also toke meeting mortals like him to get him to open up so when Crowley first heard him hyperfixate it made him happy. Because that how Aziraphale in a sense show trust in him and himself to open up.

Headcanon 6:

Aziraphale likes to stim! I think I kinda dip my toes in it in some post from before but I do believe that he stims. Whether he hums a tone, wiggles or etc. he also started doing this after time passed because again heaven and also some mortal look down on this. But with the comfort of his bookshop, Crowley and also meeting understanding mortal he start to feel more comfortable. Granted he still try to hide it due to masking and to this day still mask but once he with Crowley or in the comfort of his home he stims.

And that really about it for hc today

Me rambling in 3…..2…….1 (tw: ableism)

And that’s pretty much concludes it, I might do this again as it fun. Headcanon is my favorite thing as well as when it comes to autistic headcanon. Autistic rep has been… not the best, granted I haven’t watch much tv shows other than ofmd, good omens, and more so I’m not sure if they got better, I don’t know if I’ll talk about that aspect of negative reps but all say, they have harmful impact as I have a family member that will joke “when will I see numbers” which…sure it a joke but…. I can’t help but feel bad. So doing this and seeing positive rep or seeing autistic/adhd coded characters make me happy!

This is fun in so many ways, mostly because as shown in my past post I relate to aziraphale. Still don’t know how I feel about that but regardless I love his character, his flaws, everything! And I see how he autistic coded in my eyes so it makes me almost relate to him even more. And I’ve been wanting to show my personal headcanon for a while just I thought now would be the best day. Especially as this Good Omens brainrot is alive and well among my other brainrot. I do hope you guys enjoy this let me know if you wanna hear more or if you have your own personal hc that you want to share. And hope you guys are having a good day with how bizarre 2024 is and hope you’re also having fun ghostly pals.

Here a Aziracrow/ineffable husbands/spouse/wives gif:

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

I've been working on reconnecting to my faith, and one of the things I feel guilty about is my hobbies. Not all of them (like more traditional ones like baking/cooking), but hanging out online, participating in fandom stuff, basically anything where I spend a lot of time with non-Christians. I feel like I should be devoting more energy to God and guilty that I'm not always thinking about him. Do you know any way I can work through that?

I feel this! Capitalist society demands we spend every waking minute "being productive" in specific ways; and certain strains of Christianity demand we spend every waking minute devoted to God in specific ways....so it's all too easy to feel guilty about like. having fun! enjoying time with people!

But God created human beings with the need to rest. God tells us to take time to rest at least one day a week. (In fact, I just read this post this morning about how humans, like many other big mammals, naturally spend more time resting than working.) If your hobbies help refuel and revitalize you for other parts of your life, that's great!

You can be faithful to God while hanging out online, or enjoying fiction, or doing any other sort of hobby. To increase the sacred in your life, you don't have to be at church nonstop or reading scripture nonstop -- you just have to cultivate mindfulness of where and how the sacred touches the everyday.

(In fact, if you spent all your time in church or reading the Bible, you'd be missing the key purpose of church and Bible -- which is to take what you receive from those things out in the the everyday world!)

__________

Examples of how you can cultivate devotion to God while engaging in various hobbies:

In fandom engagement, if some fans become toxic and cruel, you might speak out against harassment.

If you meet people through your fandom discussions who seem like they really need some encouragement or support, you can be that for them or help them find places to go.

Take the time to pause while engaging in a hobby -- from cooking to reading to idk archery -- to thank God for how Their gifts have enabled you to enjoy that hobby. "God, thank you for this body with all its miraculous complexity, for the muscles that move and grow to help me draw this bow." "God, the gift of taste is incredible -- and the diversity of things to taste in your Creation is truly amazing." "God, thank you for the gift of creativity. It's marvelous how humans can create so many different stories that tell us a little bit about what it means to be alive."

A personal example of how engaging in fandom can provide simple ways of growing into the person God made you to be:

I used to write fanfiction for Good Omens and be quite involved in the tumblr fandom (back before the show came out, so it was way smaller). I stand by the fics I wrote because when I look back at them,

1) I smile to remember how often I'd get comments telling me I was helping someone cope with a rough time in their life; and

2) I realize that using fic to explore Crowley's and Aziraphale's relationship was vital in my own process of coming to understand my own queerness and navigating my relationship with my then-roommate, now-wife (so still roommate i guess, haha -- on a more permanent level!).

Not to mention, writing those fics helped me hone my writing skills in general and get used to inviting constructive criticism, which has been super helpful in my ministry.

And even if none of the above points were true......it was fun! It was a way for me to feel connected to a community, and to relax and have fun after a long day. A way for me to enjoy this life God's given me. So even if it didn't have those super specific good results, it still wouldn't have been "wasting my time."

[fairykukla]

I want this house.

We looked at it last week. I've been scrambling to get my financing together, because if we had been able to wait a year, the foreclosure wouldn't have mattered.

But I think I can get it on my own.

So I'm trying that.

I have a realtor, and he's been great so far.

I've had good recommendations for mortgage companies, so I'm working with more than one now.

It wants some exterior painting, which is well withing my skill set/available equipment. There's a strange corner of the dormer that looks like squirrels have been gnawing on it; I can fix that myself, too. Assuming that there's not some fatal flaw, I want this house.

But here's the deal; even if we can't get the very best rate, it still looks like my monthly housing expenses will actually go *down* if we can get this property. (And yeah, I mean after we add in PMI, insurance and taxes)

The last house wasn't *actually* mine. My partner bought it, about a year before we actually got married. My name was added to the deed when The Troubles started, and we lost his income (permanently), and though I brought in roommates, I still wasn't able to save that house. (The monthly payment was nearly a grand.)

That was six years ago.

That house? The one we lost? It was half again what this one is listed for.

So as soon as I can get my pre approval, I'm going to work with my realtor to put a contract on the house.

The owner dropped the price over the weekend, too.

I also need to arrange an inspection, and that might actually be the thing that hangs us up. Inspectors are hopping right now.

Send me your good vibes. Join your Hearst with mine as I hope that we can pull this off.

It's been blessed by a local kitty.

Let's hope that Kitty is a good omen.

[its-pronounced-quoassoint]

Hospital

Just a little logicality fic that I wrote late at night. I hope you enjoy it. I would love to post a part two or more. If I do I’ll link to it here.

Inspiration for this post

Patton had been getting better until his condition took a turn for the worst. He was born with a rare blood disorder and was certain he was going to die around the age of two. But now, as a fourteen year old, he was the most optimistic person, likely to ever live. 

He had been in and out of the hospital for all his life and hadn’t been there for six or so months when he had fallen extremely ill. Being rushed to the hospital was a rush that he sadly knew all to well and was no longer scared by the sirens of the ambulance or the musings of his mother in her attempts to soothe him. Instead, Patton found this whole ordeal rather annoying. His breathing mask was a little crooked and the straps around his ears were itchy. 

They arrived at the hospital and Patton was placed in a room he had been in many times before. Doctor Marcie came in and out, checking one thing then leaving to attend to another patient before returning, only to leave yet again. There were no children’s hospitals nearby so the child section of the St. James hospital was often understaffed and over filled. 

Patton waited patiently, though he had his iPad to help with that. Soon he was told that he would have to stay overnight for a while and was sent to an empty room. There were two beds, though the other had no patient. Two TVs and a curtain separating the room in two. Patton was put in the bed farthest from the door and was left with his mother and older sibling Talyn.

“Oh, Pat, don’t worry.” His sweet mother assured him.

“I’m not worried momma!” He giggled.

You’re so brave.” She cooed.

“Momma, he’s been here so many times, I think he’s used to it by now.” Talyn stated.

“Talyn!” 

“Momma, they’re right.” Patton said. He grasped his Mother’s hand and smiled.

“Oh hun, you are perfect.” She sighed.

“No I’m not momma.” 

“Pat, you know this isn’t the time to argue with her.” Talyn reminded their small sibling.

“Yeah.” He replied grinning up at his sibling. 

As the night drew closer Patton’s mother and sibling had to leave. It was a bit tearful for the older woman but Talyn helped their mother out and soon Patton was left in the room. Alone.

Oh, he hated being alone. No one to talk to, no one to smile at, nothing but silence. 

Luckily, he had his iPad and the room had a TV. Patton began absently flipping through stations until he found reruns of The Office. Using that as background noise he started scrolling through Instagram, liking posts and watching makeup tutorials and satisfying videos. 

Then, around eight pm, another kid was rolled into the room and put in the other bed. He too, had glasses and Patton desperately wanted to point out that fact.

However, he knew that many kids didn’t want to talk with their ‘roommate’ right away. So he kept quiet. 

After assuring the other kid was comfortable in his bed all but one nurse left. She walked over to Patton and began checking on him. 

“How are you doing Pat?” She asked. 

“I’m doing good Nora.” Patton smiles. Nurse Nora was Patton’s favorite. She was often his nurse while he was at the hospital and she never looked at him with pity and sadness like all the others. He wondered if her eyes were always filled with hope.

“You’re lookin’ alright. Everything seems fine. Other than you being sick that is.” She made Patton giggle.

“When is Emile coming?” 

“He’ll be here to see you in morning Honeybee.” Nora told Patton.

“Yay! Oh, I have to ask him Remy!” Patton exclaimed.

“I’m sure Dr. Picani will be happy to tell you all about it.” Nora said looking at the chart.

She set down the chart and turned to Patton. 

“Pat, this is Logan. He’s gonna be here for a while like you.” She told him.

“M’kay.” He replied side-eyeing the boy quickly.

Nora gave him a small ‘bap’ on the head and turned to leave. 

“I’ll be back in to check on you again around eleven Honeybee.” She called.

Nora left the room and Patton felt his face ease out of the bright grin he had and into a smaller, more comfy smile. Patton lowered the volume on his tv as another episode of The Office began. He laid back his pillow and watched intently at the screen. Well, at least he was trying to watch intently. Instead he was sneaking glances at the other boy in the room. Logan, as Patton now knew, had his glasses off and his nose in a book. In fact, it appeared he had been left with a rather large stack of books. 

Patton particularly liked how the boy’s facial expression shifted as he read. Logan’s small smile turned to shock, then his eyebrows creased into an angry look, then he softened and stared at the page in endearment. At one point Patton thought he had caught Logan re-reading the same paragraph several times. He was chewing on the inside of his lip in nervousness, but his eyes betrayed that action. Logan’s eyes were shimmering with a glow Patton knew only as love. He must be reading something he loved. 

Logan flipped the page and that glimmer of love in his eyes faded away. Patton felt his own face waver as he saw this. 

Patton then realized he had likely been looking at Logan long enough for it to be considered rude and turned away. After not being able to fully focus on the show Patton decided to turn off the TV and play on his iPad. The WiFi at the hospital was horrid but Patton had time to waste. While one particular game was loading Patton decided to take another glance at Logan.

The boy had somehow fallen asleep. The book rested on his chest that rose and fell and his hair was tossed carelessly around his face. Patton felt a grin grow on his face as he saw how content Logan was. The other kids that Patton had shared a room with in the past weren't usually content. Those kids slept with a permanent look of pain. Their eyes were so full of sadness. Some had tear stains on their cheeks that Patton didn't know how long were there or how long would last. Seeing a boy so peaceful like Logan made Patton so simply happy. 

Logan then turned on his side toward Patton, the book falling to the floor. When the sound didn't wake Logan up Patton grabbed the IV on the side of his bed and got on his knees so he could wheel it around the bed. He got it to the left of him and attempted to quietly get off the bed. Once his feet were safely on the cold floor, Patton walked to the book and picked it up. Good Omens, Patton read. The cover was a simple sketch of a man with angel wings reading a red book in front of a black background. The font was funny looking and Patton made a mental note to try and read it once he was out of the hospital. 

He went to place it on Logan's dresser when he heard a sudden intake of air next to him. Patton looked over and saw Logan suddenly sitting up in the bed, staring at him, clearly startled. 

"Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." Patton rushed to say. "It's just, your book fell while you were sleeping and I didn't want it to be on the dirty floor."

"Oh." Logan seemed to calm once given the explanation, his shoulders relaxed. "Thank you." 

"Of course." Patton squinted as he ginned. He placed the book on the stand next to Logan's bed and walked, his IV in hand, over to the right side of his bed before sitting down cross-legged on the soft blue blanket his mother had left. 

It was quiet. Patton decided he didn't enjoy the quiet and perhaps this was the time to talk to Logan. He looked over at the boy who had put his glasses on and was fixing up his hair a little. Patton felt a giggle rise from his throat. His glasses were crooked. Not enough that Logan could tell but Patton sure could. 

"Um, Logan?" Patton asked. 

"Yes?" He looked over at Patton. 

"Your glasses are crooked." Patton told him. 

"Oh." He began his attempts to fix them. After several tries where he would look to Patton for assurance that they were level and get a 'no' as a response Patton decided to simply fix it for him. 

Once again pulled his IV to the other side of the bed, Patton walked over to Logan and adjusted the glasses on his face. He smiled at Logan once done and the boy smiled back, though Logan's was, a smaller simpler smile. 

"You seem to know the hospital staff very well." Logan pointed out as Patton sat back down on his bed. 

"Yea, I've got a blood disorder so I'm in and out of here a lot." Patton explained. 

"Hm." Logan appeared to be assessing Patton's expression, though Pat couldn't tell what he was looking for. "Why did the nurse call you Honeybee."

"Uh, well," Patton felt embarrassment creep into his cheeks. "Nurse Nora was one of the very first nurses that I had on the regular rotation and when I first met her, I was obsessed with this stuffed animal. It was a bee with a little pot of honey on top. So, she started calling me Honeybee. Only a few people call me honeybee around here. Nora, Dr. Picani, Dr. Bollis, the secretary at the front desk, her name is Virginia, and the pastry chef down at the cafeteria, Mr. Thomas."

Logan nodded along as Patton gave him unasked for information. He didn't mind however. There wasn't much else to do. 

Once it seemed like Patton was finished Logan decided to speak up. "I suppose I should tell you about my condition, seeing as you told me yours."

"Oh, you don't have to Logan! I understand if it makes you uncomfortable to talk about."

"Really?" Logan tilted his head. 

"Yea!" Patton gave him another toothy grin. 

"Thank you." Logan reciprocated. 

"I never would want to make you uncomfortable. A lot of kids here don't like to talk about why they have to be in the hospital." Patton told him. "It's normal."

"I've heard you mention a Doctor Picani, who is that?" Logan asked.

"He's the child therapist at the hospital. He comes to visit all the kids at least once when they're here over night." Patton explained. 

"Ah." Logan nodded in understanding. 

The two continued to chat for a while. Patton would explain something about the hospital to Logan and Logan would ask some more questions until Patton had a question of his own. 

"What is your book about?" 

"Sorry?" Logan looked at his other bespectacled friend. 

"Your book, I think it was called Good Omens. It had funny font and an angel on the cover." Patton clarified. 

"You want to know about my book?" Logan asked. 

"Well, yeah, that's why I asked silly!" Patton giggled. 

"Oh, uh, well, it's about this angel and demon, both were sent to Earth to observe human evolution and perform miracles, that's the angel's job, or create mischief, the demon's job." Logan began to tell. "After a few thousand years the angel, who's name is Aziraphale, and the demon, who's name is Crowley, realize that whenever one does something beneficial the other just counteracts it with a bad deed."

Patton looked at Logan intently as he explained away the book. "Eventually they become good friends and both live in central London. Aziraphale owns and runs a bookshop while Crowley has a Bentley, you know the old car."

Patton nodded, reading the excitement and glee plastered all over Logan's face. 

"Then the Antichrist is born, and he's supposed to bring about the end of the world. However, neither Crowley or Aziraphale want that so they attempt to stop the end of the world on the Antichrist's eleventh birthday. So they-" Logan looked Patton directly in the eyes. "are you planning on reading the book?" 

"Oh, uh, I suppose so." Patton shrugged. 

"Then, I guess I shouldn't tell you what happens. People tend to not like it when I explain in detail the plots of the books I'm reading." Logan looked down. 

"No! No, no, keep going. Though I know how it ends that doesn't mean I won't want to read it." Patton assured him. 

"Really?" Logan asked. Patton nodded quickly and Logan continued. 

He explained every event in the book in great detail and would even draw Patton a diagram of confusing plot points so he could better understand it. Patton tried very hard to focus on everything Logan was saying but he found that when the boy was joyfully going on about something he's passionate about, Logan is hard to look away from. At some point Logan had walked over to sit on Patton's bed with him and was giddily showing Patton the diagram he had drawn up though at this point Patton had completely given up on paying attention to Logan's musings. Instead he had zoned out, his mind racing, never stopping to think about one thought or another too quickly. Though he somehow always tied his thoughts back to the boy sitting next to him, Patton decided to not unpack all of that at the moment. Besides, what real harm was being done if his absent-minded staring just so happened to be in the general area where Logan sat next to him. 

"Patton." 

"Ya-huh?" Patton's eyes came back into focus as once Logan got his attention. 

"Oh, uh, I was just making sure you understood what I was saying." Logan gave a small smile before turning back to the "evidence" he had laid out on the bed. 

"Yep." Patton continued to stare in Logan's general area as the smart boy went on. 

"So, as I was saying I think-" Logan turned his head to the right and looked at Patton realizing the cheery boy was staring at Logan's hair. Logan exhaled and lightly took Patton's chin in his fingers, tilting the other boy's head back to the diagrams on the bed. This time assuring that he could fully understand what Logan was saying. 

Patton pursed his lips and visibly pouted a little but didn't complain. He did however sneak one last look at Logan who had just the lightest hue of pink dusting his ears. 

As Logan drew to a close on his lecture about his the current book he was reading he transferred back to his bed and was organizing his belongings. 

"Thank you for listening to me Patton. I usually can't find anyone willing to listen to me talk about my interests."

"Oh of course, to be fully honest I spaced out a little, but a book about an Angel and a Demon falling in love," Patton laid back in his bed, a dreamy look on his face. "what's not to be interested with?"

"What?" Logan looked at his curly haired friend, flabbergasted. "They're best friends, they're not in love." 

"Yeah ok." Patton raised his eyebrows and chuckled. 

"They aren't." Logan stated. 

"Oh, please." Patton sat up, turning to look Logan directly in the eye. "Logan, I have been in and out of this hospital my entire life. I have memorized almost every facial expression there is. I can tell how someone is feeling just by how they walk. I can see past every faked smile and forced laugh. I know what eyes filled with pity or pain look like better than, I dare say, anyone. People's actions portray their feelings more than they know. And from simply all you have told me about Crowley and Aziraphale, I can tell you with complete certainty. They are in love." Patton punctuated the last four words forcefully. 

Logan looked at Patton with a small amount of shock. That however, faded quickly. Replaced instead by a content resting face. "Well, I guess it is a possibility." He mumbled. 

"It's essentially a fact." Patton once again laid back. 

It was quiet for the first time in a while. Though, the silence wasn't awkward as Patton had become used too. Instead, it was an easy silence. Logan, though Patton couldn't see very well, was going over the notes he had made, clearly searching for something to disprove Patton's conjecture. Patton felt a smug smile reach his lips as he closed his eyes. Enjoying the silence. That is until Logan gives a frustrated grunt and slammed his note book shut. Patton sat up, concerned. This wasn't the outcome he had expected. 

"Hey, uh, Logan." Patton tentatively began. "Your voice is really nice."

"What?" Logan jerked his head up, his voice breaking a little. 

"Your voice. I liked listening to you talk about the book, but your voice is very calming." Patton continued explaining. "You see, my older sibling Talyn has a friend, Virgil, he's read those H. P. Lovecraft books and he loves talking about them. I usually tune it out, which sounds rude but sometimes I just cannot continue hearing him vent about such yucky topics. However, I loved listening to you talk about Good Omens. Though the book itself isn't as gross as Lovecraft I also think your voice is part of the reason why I was so interested."

"Oh, well," Logan took a shaky in take of breath. "Thank you." 

Patton smiled as a response and let his head rest on the pillow behind him. The minutes ticked on. It was slow but Patton turned on his TV and the two watched reruns of whatever shows they could find that was somewhat enjoyable. At some point the clock had struck eleven and Nora came back in. Checking both boys vitals before turning off the TV and wishing them a goodnight. 

The dark room was once again plunged into silence that neither boy seemed to enjoy. Patton found he could not sleep for the life of him and figured Logan had drifted off at that point. So, when Logan shifted in his bed and spoke Patton jumped just a little.

“Patton, are you still awake?” He whispered. 

“No.” Patton admitted. Opening his eyes and allowing them to adjust. 

“I cannot seem to rest.” Logan sighed. 

“Neither can I.” Patton giggled. 

It was quiet for a beat too long. 

“I feel I should admit something to you.” Logan whispered, his voice full of hesitation. 

“Shoot.” Patton assured his friend.

“Earlier. When I initially awoke from my nap.” Logan began. “You told me my glasses were crooked. I purposely never fixed them correctly.”

It was quiet. 

“Wow.” Patton began a soft giggle that grew. “You are a lot more subtle than I am.”

“Oh?” 

“Very much so.” Patton continued his giggle. “That was a pretty smooth move there.”

“My friends would have called it desperate.” Logan admitted. Patton pursed his lips.”However, I’m not good with emotions at all. I’m not the best at, well, anything of the sort. I can’t just tell you I think you’re cute now can I?”

“Why not?” Patton asked, completely dodging the fact that this adorable boy had called him cute. 

“Well, for one you could be straight.” Logan pointed out. 

“Me? I’m as gay as everyone’s first impression of Aziraphale, Logan.” Patton chided.

Logan chuckled. Patton too laughed at his own comment. It was quiet. Though he couldn’t see any colors other than dark grey and black Patton could feel the red on Logan’s ears. Or perhaps that was just Patton’s hope that Logan’s face felt as hot as his did.

"I love sleepovers." He sighed. 

"Patton, I don't believe this counts as a sleepover."

"I'm in a nightgown aren't I?" Patton said as though this was an argument. 

"It's a hospital gown and attire doesn't really make it a sleepover." Logan countered. 

"Truth or dare?" Patton asked, turning on his side toward Logan.

Logan was quiet. Clearly searching Patton's face once again, this time likely for a sign that he was joking. After some time Logan looked away. 

"Dare." He sighed.  

[sonnetnumber23]

Fic game!

I was tagged by @curiouslissa and @maniacalmole so I have no chance to ignore this! :D Thank you, dears! 

Instructions: Copy/paste and bold your fic preferences because why not and tag someone

slow burn or love at first sight (I’m not really a fan of love stories, most of my favourite pairings are bromances. I  know, I’m weird)

fake dating or secret dating (yeah, with all that “oh no we are absolutely not together” and “are we?”)

enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers (favourite trope ever, also enemies who are also friends - mmm!)

oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance with correspondence (every time an author separates the characters, my heart aches and not in a good way!!:( )

hurt/comfort or amnesia (obviously; the more we suffer the better)

fantasy au or modern au (Definitely fantasy! Aziraphale the wandering wizard who hates wandering and just wants to settle down in a quiet tower with books; Crowley the half-dragon who cursed people with a magic apple and was cursed himself for that or something... Alec Hardy, the knight in shining armour... Oh Lord, I forgot myself!)

mutual pining or domestic bliss (or even unrequited love?)

smut or fluff (both make me yawn if  it’s only fluff or only smut without any real plot or emotional conflict)

canon compliant (missing scenes) or fix-it fic (I agree with curiouslissa that Good Omens doesn’t need fixing, but I also agree with maniacalmole that in other fandoms it’s often the thing I look for. Also in GO I loooove historical fics and missing scenes, but in other fandoms I often find them irrelevant.)

alternate universe or future fic (so many of my favourite fics are aus but I still love the ‘sequels’)

one-shot or multi-chapter (“the more the better”(c) - Amen)

kid fic or roadtrip fic

reincarnation or character death (Er, neither? I’m perfectly fine with discorporations, but no permanent deaths for me, please! If I want that, I have Russian literature :D )

arranged marriage or accidental marriage 

high school romance or middle-aged romance (middle-aged characters are more interesting in any situation :D)

time travel or isolated together (A&C are isolated together at any time anyway, hehe)

neighbours or roommates (both can be funny)

sci-fi au or magic au (see: ‘fantasy au’. Although it would be interesting to write a sci-fi au about them...)

bodyswap or genderbend

angst or crack (always)

apocalyptic or mundane (hm, if we’re speaking about successful apocalypses, then no, but if it means ‘apocalyptic’ in the sense of ‘oh, everything is going to hell, there are terrible disasters around, and we have to do something’, then yes.) I feel like I’m being too serious here! :D I didn’t mean to! It was fun! Also, usually genres, storylines and tropes are not so important. The main things are believable characters and great style. If a fic has those, I’ll read practically everything.   I won’t tag anyone, but if you see it and want to do it, you are very welcome!

[susiephone]

Here's my personal list of adult fiction recs for people who haven't read much of it and want to branch out!! I’ve got a mix of contemporary reads and classics, and a variety of genres. Please look up any potential triggers before reading.

Hench by Natalie Zina Walschotts: Superhero sci-fi. A young woman who makes a living doing temporary "hench" work for supervillains is permanently disabled after a run-in with a superhero. After doing some research and a lot of math, she realizes heroes by and large do more damage to people and property than your average natural disaster. When she publishes her findings, she's offered a job... by the most powerful supervillain in the city.

Vicious by V.E. Schwab: Superhero sci-fi. Two college roommates do an experiment to give themselves superpowers, and it works... except the experiment also ends with one of their friends dead and one of them in jail. Ten years later, one’s become a serial killer targeting other powered individuals, and the other one’s busted out of prison, ready to get revenge. There’s a necromancer child and a hacker who also get mixed up in this mess. Scheming ensues. The sequel Vengeful is also good.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley: Sci-fi horror. You know the broad strokes - college dropout with mommy issues creates life and then cries about it when it doesn’t come out pretty enough. The book has a lot more monologuing than I expected, but as far as classics go it’s pretty short, and the writing is genuinely beautiful.

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury: Sci-fi dystopia. Set in a future America where books and reading are outlawed, and most of the population is kept docile by government-controlled entertainment. The main character is a fireman whose job it is to burn books, but comes to question his role in society when he befriends an open-minded and curious teenage girl. I was assigned to read this in high school and was lowkey annoyed when I found it actually was that good. Again, compared to a lot of classics, this one’s a shorter read.

Black Buck by Mateo Askaripour: Social satire and dark comedy. A young black man is given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work for a profitable tech startup. While he manages to make it through the hellish initiation, he’s the only black person in the company, and endures discrimination from both within and outside the company. Reinventing himself and becoming a fixture of the corporation, the main character comes up with a plan to help people of color across the country climb the ranks in corporate America, and change the rules of the game.

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett: Urban fantasy and dark comedy. My favorite book, and the source material for the excellent TV show. An angel and a demon team up to stop the apocalypse, but realize too late that they’ve lost track of the antichrist, and now must race against the clock to put an end to the endtimes. A witch, a witch-hunter, a phony psychic, and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse also get involved.

One to Watch by Kate Stayman-London: Romance. Plus-size fashion blogger goes on a dating reality show for the publicity, insistent that she will not fall in love. Guess what happens next? Seriously funny, and it has a really excellent meta-narrative made up of all the tweets, blog posts, and group chats of the audience members who are watching our heroine's every move.

Reconstructing Amelia by Kimberly McCreight: Mystery. A single mom is devastated when her daughter falls from her school's roof to her death, even more so when the death is ruled a suicide. But when she gets a mysterious text telling her that her daughter didn't jump, she digs into it, and begins to unravel the web of secrets, betrayals, and heartbreak her daughter was tangled in. Dark academia meets Pretty Little Liars meets Gone Girl.

The Martian by Andy Weir: Sci-fi. A smart, snarky astronaut is left stranded on Mars after a mission is disrupted by a freak weather incident. Using only his wits and what his team left behind, he now has to stay alive until NASA can find a way to bring him home. The audio book narrated by Wil Wheaton is EXCELLENT.

How to Kidnap the Rich by Rahul Rania: Dark comedy. Set in Delhi, a young man who makes his living taking exams in the place of rich, privileged students finds himself in over his head when he accidentally gets the best score in all of India. Now his client is famous and on TV, and he is NOT smart enough to keep the ruse up on his own. Things only get more out of control when the dynamic duo manage to piss off the wrong people, and get themselves kidnapped.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen: Romance. It is a truth universally acknowledged that this is the BLUEPRINT for enemies to lovers. Two prideful members of the landed gentry immediately butt heads, but are forced to spend time together because his bestie is dating her sister. Cue snarky comments, secrets, scandals, and slowly realizing Oh Shit You May Not Be So Bad?? They're in love and SUPER mad about it. The humor still holds up super well.

Red, White, and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston: Romance. What happens when the First Son of the United States falls for the Prince of Wales? Political scandal and sweet romantic shenanigans! Seriously funny, has lots of great characters, and is a good start if you've only read YA before.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier: Romantic suspense and mystery. A young woman impulsively marries a mysterious wealthy widower, and goes with him to his beautiful estate, where she finds herself stuck in the shadow of his deceased wife, Rebecca. Our heroine must learn more about the woman she'll never live up to if she's going to save herself and her marriage. Dark, atmospheric, and Gothic. Beautiful writing.

Get a Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert: Romance. After a near-death experience, a young woman with chronic illness decides to move out of her parents' place and into a new apartment, where she immediately clashes with the superintendent. But he might be just who she needs to help her check everything off her bucket list, and, in her own words, get a life. Sweet, sexy, and tender, with some wonderful representation and character development.

These Violent Delights by Micah Nemerever: Psychological thriller. Two pretentious gays meet in a philosophy class and it's all downhill from there. Violence, obsession, and toxicity ensue. Really creepy, dark academia and has a lot of ambiance, set in the 1970s.

Sorry, this got long. 

i hate when people are like oh ‘adult’ fiction sucks it’s all about divorce like first of all no it isnt and second of all divorce is awesome

[shitiwontwriteinajournal]

Grief: A ghost story

Grief: A Ghost Story”

Like any true haunting it began with a death. I was young enough at that age that grief should have been the last thing my heart should have burdened, but also old enough to have realized that death was inevitable, that even if you try to outrun it, death will find you in the end. He is by all rights nothing if not persistent. And yet that wisdom still couldn’t soften the blow of losing a mother though. As it turned out my mother had been running from death for a long time, and he had finally come to collect his debt. My mother, as i’d come to find out through hospital receipts and medical bills hidden in our houses attic, had been a very sick child. Id known very little off her childhood as at the time of her death as I was too young to care for much that wasn’t happening to me in that present moment, but it seems hers was one spent mostly coming and going out of our childrens hospital. My mothers case wasn’t rare nor untreatable but her immune system was weak and the doctors had feared that she wouldn’t have lived to see the dawn of her eleventh year. She did of course live, much longer than she’d have ought to but knowing someone lived longer than they should is rarely solace in times of heartache. The months leading up to her death are vague in my memories, I know that she had to have known her demise was coming, as the only clear memory I can recall of those weeks were of her late one night sitting at the our oak kitchen table, head in hands, sobs echoing off the walls, my father holding her gently whispering words I couldn’t have heard. Even before grief became the ghost in our house, in the time before my mother’s death, she became her own kind of phantom. In those final days before her death my mother wore her favourite dresses, it was only later in life that I realized they had been all black, as she was getting ready to go to her own funeral. I can not remember the day my mother was taken from us, unfortunately all I can still conjure up is all that came after.

Her funeral was a cruel bit of chaos, a crowd of small town folk gathered and garbed in black. And I being a seven year old child from hell who didn’t yet understand that death isn’t something one doesn’t simply come back from, had refused to wear such a colour. And who could have blamed me, in my small child mind black was the colour that marked those who knew death was coming. My mother had been wearing it before she’d been stolen away, and I certainly wasn’t about to make the same mistake. I made sure that day to keep my mind trained on the grave in front of me trying to burn into my mind the words my father had left me with the day I arrived to a cold house and a father who did not completely look like my father anymore. The words cycled on repeat in my head as I stood in that cemetery, that my mother had to leave, that she loved me with all her unbeating heart but that she couldn’t stay. It was like a horrible joke, how could she be gone when she was just here, kissing my forehead and tying my shoes, when I swore that if I turned my head too quickly she could have been by my side. I think that that was the first time I ever noticed it, saw it in standing in the back of the crowd, grief is very much a living thing, even when it appears as an omen of what no longer is. I think that day grief must have feasted, but I don’t think it enjoyed it, i’d soon come to learn that although grief does a very good job at what it does, it takes no pleasure in causing pain. Regrettably I thought that that would be the end of this entities reign, I didn’t yet understand that grief isn’t a brief spectator to your loss, but a constant reminder you never wished for.

It wasn’t an overnight thing, that change in our household, the arrival of our new roommate, the apparition that would forever haunt my life. No it was as if I was watching fall change to winter or spring to summer. It was a gradual crawl that almost stayed out of my notice until it was too late. But no matter what I think it would always have been too late, the thing about grief is you can’t prevent it, there are no charms or spells to hinder its progression. It just isn’t the sort of evil you can ward off. It was becoming apparent around a few weeks succeeding the funeral when I began to see that life had been altered irreparably. It had only taken the first few days to fully understand that mother would never come home to us, but that didn’t stop me from single handedly planning a scheme to steal her back from the underworld myself. The plan was ,of course, fractured once my father found the rough hand drawn map I was planning to use to subsequently break my mother out from hell and though he had smiled that day he had confronted me with it I ponder years later how much pain and ache he must have held in his heart that day and how I never saw the hurt plainly written in his eyes. I’ve come to wonder how he did it, my father, how you could care for a child single handedly whilst being perpetually in a state of your own kind of decay. Now growing older with each passing day i’m curious if he ever felt pained to have been burdened with me. The child of the woman he’d loved and lost, left behind with the small girl who wore a younger version of her face.

I can recollect the day I first started to see the signs of its permanent existence in our home. I had just come down for breakfast one morning and found grief sitting in our kitchen at a table, still set for three. Now I know how so many people can live in a horror film without realizing the signs you’re not alone, without understanding that there’s a reason the previous owners fled into the night. You don’t want to believe it, you don’t want to even entertain the idea of the monster in the closet. It began with things like that, the table set for three, a laundry pile for someone who no longer needs it, mail addressed to woman who’s six feet underneath soil. So distracted was I by the gradual changes in atmosphere that I didn’t see the effect it would have on my father after the initial shock waves had settled. You always hear people speaking about how they can’t believe the lead in a film could be so oblivious to a residual haunting, but let me tell you, I never saw the possession coming.

If my mother became a phantom in the days preceding her death, my father became the equivalent to ‘the walking dead’ after. It seems I wouldn’t be the only one that grief left scathed. My father was a good man, he truly did his best in the aftermath of the tragedy of his wife, but he was also a broken one too. He was present always, but just enough to get me to school on time or make dinner. No longer did he have a smile that crinkled in the corners of his eyes or the loud laughter that echoed through my ears. My father was a good one, all things considered, but he was never quite the one he had been before grief weighed him down.

Grief was by all accounts a fixture in my childhood and through my adolescence. It was, in the first few years a banshee of sorts, but instead of being a warning of death to come, it was a reminder of one that had passed. Grief filled my house like the smell of campfire in clothing, it was almost impossible to forget or get rid of. Its presence wailed and screamed through the hallways, chased me in backyard just as she had, read me bedtime stories to help me fall asleep, and greeted me fondly once I was back awake. Mothers death had been at a time where though i’d been young, I still knew her, still loved her and wanted to be molded in her image. Grief found me where I should’ve known better than to look, trailed after me as I ran fingers along her bedroom curtins, the room my father hadn’t really been in since her departure. Grief also hunted me in unexpected places and moments too, whenever I caught the scent of peppermint or heard the pages of a book fluttered. Grief, i’d find through the years wasn’t just a residual entity like I had originally thought, it follows you through life, appears at birthdays and family dinner, late and uninvited. Runs a finger down your spine when you hear your loved one’s name spoken out loud for the first time in so long, follows you wherever they had been, where empty space fills the place they used to occupy. In my adolescence through, grief became a wraith, it still sang softly in the study,or started scratching trembling nails down the doors on quiet afternoons. Not in a sign of anger or violence but in a desperate tone now, a pleading question on its lips. And if it could speak in those moments i’m sure it would have said,

“Do you remember me?, please tell me you know i’m still here”.

In my early years of adulthood I became enamored with grief as a concept, spent hours upon hours of searching for answers I wouldn’t find, does it hurt forever?, does grief know how much damage it does?, is it bad that sometimes my grief is better company than the living? I would come to finally stumble across the theory that grief is experienced in five stages, although some of us skip over those stages completely or just experience them in a different order than initially presented. I knew these exemptions to be true as in my case.

I personally didn’t experience anger first after my loss, that emotion came much later, I first knew denial, Misunderstood that death was not a vacation someone goes on for a short break away from the living. And maybe that if it was my mother accidentally bought a one way ticket. Anger reared her ugly head in my middle teen years, when it felt as if the world was out to get me and that i’d been chewed up and spit out into a universe that didn’t know me any longer. I was furious, I felt that life owed me for what it had put through in the early stages of my life. How dare she kick a girl that was already down? how could this be a fair fight? I was angry for the hurt I still felt so deeply whenever I saw a happy family sitting in a booth at the restaurant where I worked, or when another friend complained that their mothers were to clingy or strict. Most of all I was resentful of my title, the girl with no mother, the girl who was greeted with pity and handled like glass about to shatter. I never truly knew bargaining, part of me will always know that those we loved can’t be brought back or found in a lost and found box, No matter how many times we check, just to see, just to make sure we at least tried. Depression was a fleeting addition to the mix over the years, he came to me on lonely winter nights and the day I got fitted for my wedding gown. Appeared at the back of every school talent show missed and during ‘take you daughter to work’ day. I’d like to believe that depression and grief are the closest, after all, how many times did I see them standing beside each other in a crowd. Acceptance wouldn’t come until I became much older, when wrinkles pinched my face and knitting became an actually entertaining pastime. It was around the time after my father had himself left this plain of existence, moving on to wherever it is we all end up, and the days that the people and family i’d made for myself had started leaving too that I began to understand it all, to come to terms with life’s fragile nature and the hopelessness of hiding behind the curtains whenever death came calling.

If only I could have told that seven year old girl that life would go on, that it would hurt, and that in the beginning that most days would feel like an uphill battle but that she would endure.

The truth is that like any ghost grief never truly leaves for good. It drops in unannounced and unwelcome like surprise relatives. The trick seems to lie in how you greet it, even years after our house became accustomed to the residual presence, grief still likes to make an appearance. But now I am ready, now I am older and wiser than I had been in youth. When grief finds me I welcome it with warm tea, peppermint in mother’s memory and an old family photo book. I let it wrap cold hands around my heart but I no longer let it consume me. I sit at my families old kitchen table, warm light filtering through the windows and I remember. I let grief show me how much I miss those i’ve lost but I don’t let it bring me that sorrow I once felt before. I flip through snapshots of my childhood, of those early years, photos of my mother dancing to the sound of music than I can’t seem to recall any longer, I see a frame of my father smiling eyes crinkled at the corners head thrown back in laughter at a joke I don’t hear. I even come across one of my mother holding me in her arms goofy grin on her face as my father stands next to her seemingly out of breath, as if he had to set up the camera and then run into the frame before the time ran out. This photo I know, remember being taken in the weeks leading up to when her test results came back. Before she became the first phantom to grace our household. Although grief takes many things from us in life we cannot allow it to take the things we hold tight to, the memories and the love. Because although grief cannot be exercised or banished like any other haunting, in the end though, it can be lived with, it can eventually become bearable. If not your own sake than for those you yourself will one day leave behind.

So when I come downstairs one morning and find grief seated in my favoured place to sit I know that the end awaits me, I begin to see it in my own children’s eyes when they find that i’ve fallen again or can’t remember the date. And so I begin to dress in all black just as she had ,visit places I hadn’t been to in years, buy christmas presents for my grand children months in advance in case I slip away before that holiday comes. I take my time day by day, make sure to call my children daily, tell them not to worry and that I love them. And when I find myself seated in a hospital bed surrounded by my children and their children and we all know that death will come to embrace me soon I say to them, “know that I have lived well and loved fiercely, know that you have all been more than I could ever wish for. When I am gone and grief comes for you make sure you leave the door unlocked for its arrival, if not grief will simply break down the door. And if you must feel sorrow for my passing, let it linger only for a minute. Find solace in the brighter times, and do not remember me as I am now. Grief will forget to lock the windows in winter and accidently leave a red shirt in the white load of clothing but it will also remind you of my favorite color and how I liked my tea. Let grief tell its tale but do not resent it, let It do what it came to and treat it as you would any other house guest. When it rattles chains down the halls at dawn or sings you to sleep remember that it is fragile, this loss, and it only wants to know that the ones we lose made an impact, that their passing will not go unnoticed or missed".

When death wraps me in his kind ancient arms and carries me from that room I pass grief on my way out, grief it seems is a sentimental being, it watched me leave quietly raises one feeble hand in farewell to me, before turning to greet those I had now left behind.Like any good ghost story it began with a death, and though in the grand scheme of things the people i had loved and lefts tale was far from over, mine would end in one as well.

By: Kate Bennett

[alittlerazzmatazz]

tagged by @rock-n-rollin-bitch ☺️

name: tori

nickname: none :(

age: 23 👵🏻

gender: female

orientation: bi

favorite color: purple!!

book recommendations: i’ve been on a disgusting embarrassing harry potter kick lately so i haven’t been reading nearly as much as i should but the last few non-hp books I enjoyed were all by neil gaiman - good omens, american gods, and neverwhere

movie recommendations: velvet goldmine, perfume, the love witch, viva (if i had to be permanently scarred by this, so do you)

tv recommendations: pushing daisies

coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: tea or hot chocolate depending on the day

cats or dogs: ¿porque no los dos?

favorite meme: my answer to this changes every day.

i want to live long enough to witness: i’d be happy to die this instant buddy

weird obsessions: right now it’s snape. severus snape. you know the boy.

tumblr birthday:

how many sideblogs: @magicdryadic (witchy stuff) @cuatrofuego (stupid meme stuff) @doxywings (harry potter snape stuff) @disastress (depressing stuff) and then a couple more from high school i no longer use

random fact about me: i have a full sized mannequin roommate who scares the bejesus out of me every single day of my life. her name is giselle and she is fabulous.

goals for 2018: get on antiseizure medicine so i can start driving again 🙃

if you read this, consider yourself tagged and tell me about yourself!