#knight writes

[nik-knight]

Chapter 10 of Ineffable Catboys is now up! Credit to @hg-aneh for the original idea that started chapter 1.

[igknightedart]

Say that to my face, Booboo the Fool

@thenamesblurrito

[knightinkosherarmour]

Post Human Studies: The Unreal State

This week, students, we return to the concept of Post Human Polities - PHP - as opposed to Post Human Species - PHS - as established in our previous lecture on the Progress Cult. As loathe as I am to bring up the maniacs behind the Progress Cult, if you can all forgive my editorializing, today's lecture deals with one of their successor PHPs, the Unreal State. The Unreal State most likely has deep ties to the social thought behind the Progress Cult which was Anarchoacademic Liberism.

For reasons you will come to understand, I hope, most of today's statements regarding the Unreal State must be coached in uncertainties. First however, let us discuss and attempt if not to define than circle a definition for Anarchoacademic Liberism. Anarchoacademic Liberism is an attempt at a revival of old Earthen ideologies of futurism and anarchism as understood by the Provost Major of the Progress Cult. To his understanding, anarchism was simply abolishing any and all social taboos and understandings as well as abolition of most state functions and futurism was putting ultimate faith in any and all new emergent technologies regardless of ethics behind them. As a student of Earthen and Human philosophies and ideologies, I must question where the Provost Major gained his understanding. The Provost Major thusly structured what remained of the Progress Cults state apparatus after various academic institutions supposing they would be best at encouraging the acquisition of information.

After the Applied Military Theories and the dissolution of the Progress Cult's holdings following the Provost Major's death, one of the break away polities was the Unreal State. The Unreal State was like many other successors to the Progress Cult, charismatic leaders putting their own spin on Anarchoacademic Liberism. However, the Unreal State took it one step forward, and began an assault against the very fundamental laws of reality.

This is now where things will have to enter supposition. Everything after this is conjecture. There are three possibilities to what the current Unreal State is.

The first is this, there is a pocket of space in what was once a Progress Cult controlled system once was. The Unreal State as much as it exists exists there, in space that no longer follows the same rules, if any, as the rest of reality if the space follows any rules at all. The Unreal State has managed to create a rupture in reality that in a system whose name can no longer be recorded on any form of media, believe me experts in the field of memetic hazardous storage have tried. Now that we have established that Unreal State now lies entirely within this rupture and potentially other ruptures comes the questions of those people who claim to be from the Unreal State. Those individuals we met claiming to be Citizens of the Land That Isn't and are displaying high levels of universal dissociation are from this Unreality and seek to spread its dissolution of reality with a fever that rivals adherents of the Green Orthodox Bible. Attempts to enter these gaping holes in reality, which now include what once was Mercury of the Sol System, more or less than resounding failures with to this dates no contact being able to be established or return trips emerging.

The second is this there is a pocket of space in what was once a Progress Cult controlled system once was. The second possible explanation is that these ruptures in space time are actually more akin wormholes, portals to a place we do not yet understand where only those who have spent long periods exposed to the Unreal State can survive, or those become citizens there. We have heard reports from surviving Citizens that have return that the state is engaged now and not just the war against the very fabric of reality but against those that maintain it and those beyond the veil. They claim knowledge of Cthulhiods, named after the Old Earthen Occultist’s Erotic Creation’s writing, and other creatures of the firmament such as Angels of Vangel. These citizens that they alone of humanity take the war for liberation to new fronts, they fulfill the work in words promised by humanity for years before. Whoever is part of this work they have emerged to changed, part of the universal disassociation is that in parlance some of you might laugh at they seem to clip through objects that were steady as possible they no longer react in the right ways on a physiochemical level to external interactions. Most worrisome part of this is that this does not seem to be isolated and is capable of spreading it is how Mercury once a famed center of medical research was dissolved and in the place where it once rotated now is a gaping Mall visible through the solar system at all times. It has made Earth's first colony Venus, turn itself into a fortificated world and reinforce the paranoia in isolation of the Martian gardeners. That of the four cradle worlds of mankind, on has been lost already, is a portent of doom.

The third is this there is a pocket of space in what was once a Progress Cult controlled system once was. This one is the most comforting one to me, all individuals claiming to be from the Unreal State are charlatans and delusional. The Unreal State does not in any form exist and it is merely a galactic Boogeyman. That all previous suppositions can be simply explained away through a clever trick of the hand and a heavy heavy dose of ignorance. This however is the least likely.

The one confirmed fragment I have found consistent is this.

"In the Unreal State, the whole of the law is this: There shall be no Law, neither against murder nor that yoke of gravity, and to oppose all other laws shall be your duty."

Even speaking of the Unreal State is fraught with the fact almost nothing is confirmed there are many suppositions many ideas of things that could be known but in the end what is confirmed is a little more than dust in the wind. I hope against hope to whatever deities that there truly are if they are benevolent in this world, that the Unreal State is simply a fiction of already unstable cultists. For the consider anymore of what it's potential truths imply makes me jealous of those with cybernetic implants who may cleanse their mind.

Now students, if any of you here are truly real or here, the lecture is over. Class dismissed. I hope to see you in some form again soon. I need a drink of coffee. Is this still recording?

[temperedknight]

🖋 Saarinen saltspittle sounds like a badass

Sazarin Saltspittle is a Gnomish inventor and engineer, with a specific focus in magical power generation and storage systems. He was the secondborn son of a moderately powerful and very wealthy merchant family. A political marriage was arranged for him after he showed no interest in pursuing a personal romance, but it fell through due to differing personal priorities.

Hosting his elder brother's family for a lab inspection, a project of his - an attempt to source infinitely rechargeable from the aetheric tide - went horribly awry, disintegrating his brother Sarath and sister-in-law Marai, and trapping his niece Alaia in a self-sustaining feedback loop of magical energy, which Sazarin barely managed to contain before it went supercritical.

In Sazarin's world, the ocean is the domain of the god of death, and a known magic absorber. Hoping to unlock some secrets from its depths, Sazarin drained his family coffers to construct an undersea vessel, the Nereid Encumbrance Pelagic/Tidal Underwater Nonmagical Explorer (NEP/TUNE) and a set of powered underwater dive armor, the Tidal Recon/Investigation-Tall Observation Nereid (or TR/I-TON).

Using these platforms, Sazarin has begun scouring the sea for anything that might unwork the magical storm fomenting within Alaia. This search often leaves him in need of coin, which he makes by working as a mercenary; TR/I-TON is a terrifyingly capable combat system. He's worked alongside other mercenaries, the Crystal Golems of Oreish (the Sea-God of Death), and even the Order of Shivers of the sentient Apex Sharks (ask me about them if you wanna know more).

Outside of combat and work, Sazarin is an inherently kind and generous person, though he lacks the social skills needed to form connections, and is generally a solitary man, preferring his lab to other people. He has a special affinity for children, and uses his spare parts and time to manufacture semi-magical wind-up toys. He's even built a toy or two for Oreish himself; the child-god's favorite is a mechanical fish which plays hide and seek.

Sazarin maintains a brave face, but is slowly spiraling into manic despair at his lack of success so far. Alaia has maybe a decade before the magic storm unravels her entirely and she is lost forever. It's a race against an unknown clock, and Sazarin isn't winning.

[nik-knight]

And the angel he so loved the world That he watched it as it spun and twirl’d And took some time to reminisce Of all the earthly things he missed He thought about the lovely food That never failed to lift his mood He thought about the humans there With whom he shared his love and care He thought about the years gone past regretting that they could not last He thought about the one he loved But now he’s here, trapped up Above So he holds the world in tight embrace Where above his home he rests his face And he cannot help it but to cry Wishing he never said goodbye Resting down below sat by a pond, The demon thinks about the blond Where joining in his hurt and pain Are endless torrents shed in rain

No angel nor sun to keep on shining He sighs in ceaseless, deep repining Under showers of holy tears that sting With no cover under snowy wing But do not grieve, and do not mourn! For their hearts shall not for long be torn So now we wait, but until then Hold close to hope, to love, amen.

Global warming is wild isn't it? I mean? Warm and salty raindrops 24/7? specifically in Soho???

(I physically can't draw angst sorry I did my best here)

[nik-knight]

A More Gentle Touch

He had hardly spent more than three hours in his human-shaped corporation, yet he was already winded by the time he managed to lower all the shop’s curtains and finally lock the door. A quick miracle was sent behind him to flip the sign to “Most definitely closed” as he trudged into the back room to rest for the evening.

There had been no other way around it. It had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time to invite the book dealer over for a few negotiations; after all, she was an old colleague of his and a delight to have conversations with. However, when spending most of an afternoon around a human, it was nearly impossible to keep up the vague impression of being a human without actually becoming humanoid. Overall, it was easier to spend that time in a human corporation than holding on to a miracled façade for that long.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t still exhausting, though.

It was like walking around in clothes that were much too tight. Humans certainly were not the largest of Her creations, but they were still quite clumsy forms with arms and legs that had to move at the same time, heavy skin, dense bones, and weighty organs all packed inside a cumbersome package.

He transformed as soon as he sat on the sofa. The relief of it all was soothing at least. Fluffy feathers took the place of stuffy clothes, white wings replaced his heavy arms, and those pesky legs thinned to a comfortable weight that could easily be tucked under his body.

Finally, he could be soft and small in all the right ways. He had no idea how Crowley could be humanoid so often without facing similar fatigue. Perhaps that was why the demon spent most of his spare time asleep.

Despite finally being back into his much more comfortable form, the extended period in that skin suit had ruffled his feathers just as literally as metaphorically. There was an itchy irritation under his feathers, but he was much too tired to groom himself right now. All he wanted to do was curl up with a cup of tea and a good book, but the thought of gathering the necessary materials to do so (or even miracle them up) made him want to do nothing but settle into the cushions and stay there until he had the energy to move again. He allowed his tired eyes to drift shut, letting the quiet and dark of the room calm him for just a bit.

He had only been in his weary siesta for a few minutes when he smelled a rather familiar aroma in the back room. He tiredly blinked open his eyes just in time to catch a fresh cup of tea on a saucer delicately placed in front of him. He looked up to see Crowley, in his humanoid form for some reason, pushing the cup closer to where Aziraphale could comfortably dip his beak in for a sip.

“My dear?” He asked, unsure why Crowley was in that form so late in the evening. By now he was usually a snoring pile of coils wrapped around the base of one of Aziraphale's table lamps.

“You looked a little flustered, so I figured you might need a pick-me-up,” he shrugged as if he hadn’t done anything special. Aziraphale could feel his feathers fluff up at the amount of love that was coursing through his tiny body.

“Oh, my darling, how very kin—”

“Anyway,” Crowley coughed, not letting Azriaphale hit him with another four-letter word. “Your feathers are all ruffled, and since I have hands at the moment, I figured I could… Help you straighten them out a little. ‘F ya like, that is.” He turned his head away, trying and failing to hide the embarrassed flush on his cheeks. Luckily Aziraphale’s happy cooing had him looking back just in time to catch the angel’s happy wiggle and flutter.

“Oh, that sounds like just the thing my dear, if you don’t mind terribly?”

“Not at all.” Without a moment's hesitation, Crowley’s hand was held open by Aziraphale, letting him step gently onto his palm so Crowley could bring him to his lap as he sat down.

Aziraphale stretched his wings out as best he could to give Crowley room to work, and soon enough the demon’s fingers were gently grooming Aziraphale’s wings. It wasn’t anything too deep or intense, but just a slight straightening of a few ruffled feathers along with long gentle strokes across the wing to calm the rest of the dove’s frayed nerves. They paused every few minutes so that Crowley could bring the teacup back to Aziraphale’s beak to drink, then it was back to the relaxing grooming that soon had Aziraphale looking like a fluffy melted marshmallow in Crowley’s palm.   

“That good, angel?” Crowley asked after about thirty minutes of grooming and an extra ten minutes of gentle petting that neither one of them brought up.

“Very good, my dear. Thank you so very much.” Aziraphale opened his eyes that he hadn’t realized he had shut during the grooming. He turned his head so he could look back at his darling demon. “I hope it wasn’t too taxing for you to stay in that form just for me.”

Crowley simply gave him a small smile and shrugged. “Some things are worth shifting for.”

There was only the briefest tingle of a miracle before Crowley suddenly found himself with a lap full of human-shaped angel. “Too right, my dear.” He swiftly leaned in, pressing his lips against the demon’s. Crowley stiffened in surprise, but quickly returned the kiss, keeping it gentle and soft just for his angel. When Aziraphale finally pulled away, he only had a moment's notice before suddenly there was a large snake in his hands and lap.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but chuckle. “Getting tired, darling?”

“Just get down here, already, angel,” he grumbled, doing his best to keep himself from hiding his face in his coils.

“Oh, gladly.”

Then there on the sofa was a significantly less ruffled dove resting in his favorite nest of black and red coils. The book Aziraphale had been reading earlier that day was conveniently placed against the long loops of the scaley nest so that Aziraphale could easily read and the serpent’s tail could easily flip the pages. (Aziraphale was yet to discover that his feathers poofed up the slightest bit when he was done with a page, giving Crowley the wordless cue to flip to the next one.)

“Oh, you’re too good to me, dear.” With a happy little wiggle to settle comfortably in his love’s nest, he set his eyes on the beginning of the chapter.

“Shaddap…”

And if Crowley buried his head right into the soft feathers under Azriaphale’s breast to hide his face, well, no one bothered to mention it. After all, Aziraphale had a good book and good company to enjoy.

And enjoy it they did.

[by @nik-knight for @katiefrog217]

[igknightedart]

Thinkin' about Dread and how these are all technically the same character in the same specific AU 😅

At least I've more or less settled on the name and character details with this one but uh...yeah, hopefully my rampant perfectionism at least produced an interesting character evolution lmao

[knightinkosherarmour]

Marshal and Mechsapient

A Follow up to my previous writing about my warhammer army.

Mechasapient-Magos Tsephor-10.54 was never very popular amongst even the inhuman adepts of the Adeptus Mechanicus. From the still human new adepts that he sometimes taught religious ritual to the highly mechanized Magi and Dominii that lead the Mechanicus, there seemed a consensus was unilaterally reached, that he was odd even by their standards. That suited him just him. It meant more often than not he was left alone either on the roosts in Deimos or aboard whatever crusading ship he was taken abroad by, and that was just a great place where he could take care of his pteraxii. They were always such good birds and he wanted to make sure they had been taken care of so well. Pteraxii were after all good omens and this had led him into taking the role of a lexmechanic, when away from his precious birds, Tsephor had taken to the role of a lexmechanic, analysis the vast reams of data of both the movements of pteraxii but also the prophetic datalooms. The way the numbers and statistics often feel into place was pleasing.

When put on a diplomatic assignment years ago with his close friend Magos Aleph-Gimmel, the same proved true of other Imperial delegations, though the terms cogboy and oilsniffer had been thrown around more liberally. At least there he understood vaguely why most people seemed to be displeased or ill at ease in his presence! The common subjects of the Imperium were unenlightened in the mysterious and glories of the mechanicus, though similar to his old friend  Magos Aleph-Gimmel in order to play the role of diplomat better, outward augmentations had been kept to a minimum. It still didn't seem to work for him as much as it did her though she had studied the science of charisma in a way that he had never really thought of doing. Pteraxiiken was much more important. The lack of augmentations ended then, after all it was important to have roosting pools for the razor sharp claws of his precious birds and mechandrites for refueling their flamers!

But at least here now on the First Deimos Explorator Fleet he was thankfully left alone and enough of his fellow tech priests didn't really seem to mind anymore! In order to take care of the pteraxii, those winged skitarii whose brains had been reduced to embarrassables a solitary part of the fleet’s head Ark Mechanicus, with enough facilities and resources to replenish any losses to his precious birds though he would never let that happen! 

It was here within the roost of the pteraxii that he could be often found and was found. Walking with the lack of fear a skitarii marshall should have Kattal-42/8 strode unbothered through the twitching and well oiled skitarii. The marshall barely had any human components left in it. It was far more machine than the guardsman it had once been, raised to perfection by the Fabricator Minoris. Necrodermis and wraithbone crisscrossed underneath human made alloys, circuit, and tubing for synthetic blood, leaving whatever flesh remained gaunt and starved of touch. If Kattal-42/8 had preferences for their body, this would be exactly how it would want it. The remaining flesh supported by a vast network of technology while they served ever for the glory of the emperor. The stolen spirit stone within its chest plating had saved its life in battle more than once. Its body even had a built-in respirator similar to its old guard uniform. 

Kattal marched forward as silent as could be towards the rotund Tsephor. From the noosphereic implants in Kattal-48/2’s eyes it could see his data signature in the moving mass of pteraxii. It was there that they were needed and there it would go. Kattal-42/8 served as the Vox of the Fabricator Minoris, being the only other techpriest allowed the key to her unique voxbox code and replicate her voice. Kattal approached Magos Tsephor and waited. Approximately 32.6 seconds was standard to wait when dealing with Magi to allow them to notice its presence and then terminate whatever they were doing. At approximately 33.1 seconds Magos Tsephor had not seemed to notice Kattal. Kattal-42/8 could not get annoyed. They had chosen to request the part of their brain responsible for that removed. 

Still. Something disapproving at this inefficiency at being noticed was rising within Kattal-42/8. “Mechasapient-Magos Tsephor-10.54,” Using the voxcode of her personal prophet and superior the Fabricator Minoris, was sure to get the magos’s attention.

Magos Tsephor, a smile upon the half of his head that was still that brown skinned flesh, turned, “Ah! Aleph, it is a pleasure,” Though upon fully taking in who had been set here to summon him, his smile turned into more of a frown. “Marshall Kattal-42/8, I thought we had talked about using my old friend's voice!” Kattal-42/8’s limited social interaction software wired into motion.  The cogitators normally reversed for battle or finding ways of limiting sound transmitted struggled to process this. Tsephor was obviously talking in a friendly tone with it, unusual, but reminding it of the last time they had been used to summon it. The generative programs in its software provided the following response. “Yes. The memory exists within my memecore. However it is still within my parameters to provide messages from Fabricator Minoris Technoarchaeologist Magos Aleph-Gimmel Bellerov-2.0.” This was all said within the borrowed voxbox code. 

How people ever put up with Kattal-42/8 and yet found Tsephor strange to be around was always something that deeply made his mind blank out in confusion. He used to joke it was a bluescreen moment, referencing the ancient technogenie from Old Terra. “Yes, yes, Kattal, now Marshal what is the message?”

Finally. Kattal could deliver the message that was untrusted to be sent over the noosphere. Kattal, admittedly, itself did not know what the message was either. After a moment of ensuring they absolutely had the correct recipient, Kattal unzipped the message and let it play. Aleph-Gimmel’s soft voice streamed out from Kattal’s form. 

“Tsephor. An inquisitor is onboard. She will be conducting a sweep, come to my quarters, please give a numerical-prophecy about the status of what the likely outcomes.”

Both adherents of the Cult of the Mechanicus stared at each other for a moment. Neither was truly comfortable in the presence of the other. Tsephor was the first to speak, “Well, Kattal, it seems you ought to guide me back no?” That jolly honest smile was back upon his remaining lip.

Kattal just stared unblinking with its green augmented eyes. “Querry: why? This does not seem the most efficient route.”

“Well,” Tsephor gestured around with his many many mecandrites to the Roost around him. “It wouldn’t do if something would happen to me on the way up would it? Her quarters are many many clicks away aren’t they?”

Kattal, if they ahd the ability, would feel incensed at the implication their ship was anything less than safe. “Safety not a concern. Skitarii and sicarian patrols regularly all levels of the ship.” “Well, what if the Inquistor should find me or delay me! Marshall, I trust your patrols but…”

“Are you suggesting Inquisitor Seraphsdottir’s loyalty to the Emperor and the Omnissiah is questionable?” “I would never dare put a Inquisitor in such a… position but! It might slow us down, no?” Tsephor honestly had never once considered that. He just wanted to move as fast as possible and following behind Kattal would ensure everyone else onboard Deimos’s Cog  parted around them. That was not something Kattal would argue. The two after a little more deliberation they began the journey through the kilometers long spaceship. Magos Tsephor was sure to give all his birds reassurance he would be back as soon as he could with fresh promethium.

[nik-knight]

ever gonna write more of that fic based off of art by hg-aneh?

Yep, I recently updated with a new chapter last week which you can read here, or on AO3 here. Not sure when chapter 8 will be uploaded since I'm still working on the details of it, but I'll post it on AO3 first. I'm also writing other things, like original works, so Ineffable Catboys is still in rotation. Of course, you can always find catboys content on @hg-aneh's tag "#catboy omens". Also, all the writings I do on tumblr, Good Omens or otherwise, can be found on my blog under the "#knight writes" tag.

[igknightedart]

Hey, I know censorship is still a lil fucky around here but would it be worthwhile to still make a valveplug themed blog for that kind of art?

asking purely hypothetically, of course

[knightinkosherarmour]

having been off of my estrogen for like a few weeks bad

[nik-knight]

His World in Her Hands His skin crawled with the wrongness of it all. His eyes stung from the holiest of holy light, and every fibre of his being was telling him he was in the wrong place, that he shouldn’t be here, that this was wrong and forbidden. But She stood there waiting for him, and he had not been vaporized into nothingness, so he must’ve been permitted to be here just this once.

The weight of the angel he bore in his arms was nothing compared to the sinking weight of his stomach. His nerves were on edge as he approached Her, exceedingly careful not to drag his angel’s battered wings across the floor.

Of course Aziraphale had to play the hero this time. Of course he had to shield Crowley with his own body when Micheal attacked him. Of course the idiot had to sacrifice himself against a blow that was delivered by the one who threw Satan down to Hell herself. The hit would have killed Crowley, there was no doubt about it, but at least he wouldn’t have to see his angel like this, limp and lifeless with only the tiniest residual grace resting within the corporation proving that Aziraphale was just barely hanging on.

He finally reached Her, or about where he thought She was. His eyes were glued to the floor, not knowing if looking at Her with his damned eyes would be enough to set Her off.

“Please,” he begged. This was his last and only hope, and he’d beg and grovel on his hands and knees if it would convince Her to help, but he wasn’t going to let go of his angel. “Please, he’s all I have. He’s the only real good left on Earth. Lord, I’ll do anything, please…”

He stood there, gaze still glued to the floor, but now he was dripping tears onto Aziraphale’s wrinkled coat.

“Crowley,” She said to him. This made him finally look up at Her.

She said his name. Not the name She had given him upon his creation, but his name. The one he chose for himself ages ago.

That would have caused Crowley a whole different kind of crisis if there weren’t more pressing matters at hand.

She looked just as he remembered Her. She was Everything. She was Everything there ever was and Everything there would ever be. And that was all that could really be said.

“Crowley, what would you give in return for his salvation?”

Right to the point, as always.

“Anything,” he breathed. He wasn’t sure why She asked. She had to have known this already. “Anything at all. Please. Please, Lord, please save him.”

Though She was Everything, and thus hard to discern Her expression, he knew She was watching him closely.

“Would you give your life for him?”

Crowley expected this question, so he was more than prepared to answer.

“Yes.’”

The atmosphere in the room shifted, and suddenly there was a giant pair of hands before him, open and waiting for Crowley to move. He gently lowered Aziraphale’s corporation into Her hands, selfishly letting his fingers linger as he pulled away, not sure if he would ever hold his angel again. She waited until Aziraphale was carefully set in Her hands before pulling back and lifting the angel towards Herself.

At first, nothing happened. The atmosphere was silent save for the softest humming of holiness that existed everywhere in Her Domain. Then, so quietly Crowley thought he imagined it, there was a soft blowing of air. Similar to how someone might gently blow on glowing embers to raise a fire.

Crowley held his breath as the surrounding holiness focused into Her hands. It reminded Crowley of what it felt like to Create. Like gathering hydrogen and helium to make a tiny little star in your hands before setting it out into the black canvas of space to shine.

She was breathing life back into Aziraphale.

The next moment the focus was gone. The surrounding holiness calmed and rested loosely in the air, its job done.

“Crowley,” She spoke again. Without uttering anything else, She lowered Her hands, offering Crowley his angel back.

“Aziraphale, Aziraphale!” He panted as he nearly leapt up to take him from Her. “Angel, angel, angel…” He scooped Aziraphale up in his arms, holding him close and looking over him. He was still a bit of a mess with wrinkled clothes and ruffled feathers, but his chest was rising with the familiar habit of breathing, and his eyes were shifting under his eyelids as if he were dreaming.

And Crowley could feel Aziraphale wholly in his corporation again, not just withering vestiges of his fading grace.

Crowley sobbed with relief. His legs gave out under him, and he crashed to his knees, just barely managing not to jostle the angel out of his arms.

“Thank you,” he whispered in between relieved sobs. “Thank you, thank you…”

He cried and held his angel as tightly as he could without crushing him. He was making Aziraphale’s face wet with his tears as he peppered kisses onto his brow and into his hair. He coughed out pained ‘I love you’s over and over again, hoping that it’d stick, that Aziraphale would know this one thing. The one thing he could never manage to say, and he doubted he’d ever get another chance.

The room (if you could even call the strange dimension a room) grew quiet again as the demon’s sobs died out, giving way to a dreadful sort of peace.

Aziraphale had been saved, but Crowley now had his end of the bargain to uphold.

Still not having the strength to let go of the angel, Crowley looked up at Her again with a heart filled with equal parts relief and dread.

“He will still need rest for a while, but he is healed and whole again. A bit of time and care and he will be up and well again.”

Crowley nodded. He hoped that Muriel or maybe Maggie and Nina would be up to the task of caring for the angel after he was gone.

“And… when will I be destroyed?” He gulped, trying to be brave. “Do I have time to bring him back to Earth or do I…?”

Die now, his mind finished for him unhelpfully.

The holiness in the air bounced around with a jovial sort of movement, almost as if it were a chuckle.

“You are not to be destroyed, Crowley,” She said, sounding mirthful.

“But… but I agreed to give my life for him.” He hoped She wasn’t just playing games with him. He wasn’t in the mood to be given false hope just for him to be suddenly snapped into oblivion.

“And you will,” She promised.

Crowley blinked and suddenly She was there.

She had taken on a human-like form. Still made of pure Everything, but something smaller… almost comforting.

It was impossible to describe God’s appearance in something as trivial as words, but if Crowley had to, he would say…

That She looked like his Mother.

She smiled at him, and he could see it plain on Her face. It was the same proud look a mother might give to her child after learning they had helped an elderly neighbor bring in their groceries. It was soft and warm and something Crowley had never seen before.

She calmly stepped towards him, and it took all Crowley had in him not to try and flee. She crouched a bit and lifted a hand towards his face. He was ashamed to say he flinched the tiniest bit, but he then squeezed his eyes shut and lifted his head towards Her. He focused all his attention on the feeling of the angel resting in his arms. He wanted Aziraphale to be the last thing he thought about before he was wiped from existence.

Her hand gently cradled the side of Crowley’s face, and She used Her thumb to wipe the tears from his cheek.

“Oh, Crowley. It’s all right. Open your eyes.”

What else could he do but comply? He opened his eyes to see Her looking down at him fondly.

“You said you would give your life for him, and so you will.” She spoke in the same voice he’d known since his creation, but here in Her smaller form, it did not sound like the booming thunderstorm that echoed across time and space. It sounded human.

Strange. He didn’t think She liked humans anymore, but perhaps he was wrong.

She knelt down in front of them and rested Her other hand so that it sat on Aziraphale’s shoulder. The angel sighed quietly, still asleep.

“You will give your life for him. You will take him home to Earth and you will care for him as he recovers. You will give your life caring for him, protecting him, and loving him. You two will care for each other, protect each other, and love each other, just as you always have.” She gave Crowley a happy, patient smile. “It won’t always be easy, and you may have to save the world again a time or two, but you’ll muddle through it together just fine, I’m sure of it.”

Crowley looked at Her, then down at the angel in his arms.

“…You gave the Earth a good protector,” He muttered tiredly, still reeling from having his loved one saved and himself being permitted to live.

“And now I’m giving him a good protector,” She added conclusively. “Demon Crowley, the First Tempter, the Serpent of Eden… and the Guardian of the Guardian of the Eastern Gate. That’s quite a title.”

“Bit of a mouthful,” he tried carefully, still unsure about what She thought of him.

“Don’t like it?” She teased.

“Nah, ‘s all right,” he shrugged. “I’ll get used to it.” He attempted a weary smile, then hauled himself up on his feet with the angel still cradled gently in his arms.

She stood with him and reached up to place Her palm on his cheek again, and he leaned down a bit so She could reach him more easily.

“Go now. There is much yet to be done, but your angel needs you now.” She stood on her tiptoes for a moment to place a gentle kiss on his brow.

Before Crowley could even react, God pulled away, and Her form returned to the larger form of Everything that She always was--

--And then he was in the bookshop.

He firmly decided that he would unpack all of that once he got the angel settled and resting in bed.

For now, he sat the angel down on the couch, propped a pillow under his head, laid that ugly tartan blanket over him, and went deeper into the bookshop in search of some fresh bedclothes.

God, from wherever She was, looked down upon Her two most interesting creations and marveled at how they and their relationship kept on surprising Her in the most wonderful ways. She looked at the bond they’d built over 6,000 years… And God saw that it was Good.

[Written for @camilleflyingrotten]

𝘖𝘩 𝘈𝘻𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦…

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere knight who wants you instead of the princess.

Dead dove Do not Eat Tw. For noncon, MDNI, Fem pov

Yandere knight who has been training in the palace for a very long time. It's an honor for a commoner like him to even set foot into the castle walls, so he works earnestly.

Yandere knight who's been catching glimpses of not only the lovely princess throughout the years, but her handmaidens as well. You're a daughter of a somewhat lesser noble house, and therefore you have essentially been given to the royal family until you're eventually married off to another courtier.

But of all the noble ladies, who often ignore him, he finds you to be the most approachable and kind to him and the other squires. He's developed a bit of a crush on you over the years, and he eventually found it in himself to express his feelings. They were innocent and pure then, and he stood there blushing and awkward waiting for you to accept or deny. He would've taken a no from you. Really, he would have.

But then that pompous bitch got in the way.

The princess had you pulled away by her other attendants before you could answer, and she all but sneered at him.

"My maids are not for common rife like you to sully," she spat, a look of disdain carved on her delicate features.

Yandere knight who was deployed to the battlefront soon after. He spent years in misery knowing it was that royal woman's meddling that had both sent him here and stopped him from knowing how you truly felt.

Yandere knight who carved through foe upon foe with the flash of his sword while thinking of you. He would wipe blood from his face and wonder what it would take to have you. He resolves to become so renowned that he could have you and the respect he deserved all those years ago anyways.

Yandere knight who comes back as the hero of the nation. A parade is thrown for him upon his return, and flowers are thrown at his feet by the masses of people. He is awarded a noble title, a duke (impressive), a territory of land to manage, and the blessing to have the hand of any eligible lady in the land from the king.

The implication was for him to go for the princess, sitting there in a gown befitting of an engagement party. She wasn't the heir to the throne, and having a young, impressionable Duke to have and father a potential crown prince or princess was certainly a draw for her to act so sweet and lovely despite her previous attitudes. He had to use all the will in his body to hide his disdainful glare towards her. Instead, he strode up with a near giddy grin, breezed past the waiting royal, and knelt before you.

"[Name], I shall have you as my wife," He says with a beaming smile. You try to protest, but he's already sweeping you into his arms. The king seems surprised by his choice, but as he stares between Yandere Knight, lovestruck and beaming, and you, squirming and utterly shocked, he realizes that he cannot simply go back on his word. The king waves his hand, and your fate is sealed.

Yandere knight feels bad for not giving you a proper wedding. In fact, he feels bad about not taking you to your new home before he's pulling up your skirts. He's a dog, he knows, but you're just so tempting now that you're all his. He shoving you down onto the plush upholstery of the carriage seats, and you let out a startled cry.

Yandere knight who cannot claim he's chivalrous. He wishes he could, but he loves the way your breasts look pushed up so tightly in the laced bodice of yours. He lets out a groan, petting your hair and shushing you as you whimper under his wandering touch. Button after button becomes undone.

"Love, you'll never wear such stifling clothing again. You hear me? All robes and lace from now on. None of this nonsense," He murmurs into your skin. He pulled your corset and chemise from your body, and he pressed fervent kisses to the crook of your neck. He grasps at your breasts, kneading them experimentally. He's had time to experience women on the battlefield. A fling or two in some field on the outskirts of a freshly liberated village. He would think of you the whole time and imagine what he was latching his lips around the stiff peak of your nipple while a random girl cried out underneath him. But this was real. Your warmth beneath his much heavier form was on of the most beautiful feeling he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

He parted your legs, and he could feel you shy away from him. He laughed. As if you had a choice. He knew you would love him eventually, but for now you can't blame him for how ravenous he was as he felt between your shaking, parted legs. He smirked as his lips met yours. His fingers slid against your folds, gathering slick arousal on his digits with a curious hum. He grinds his thumb against your clit as he slowly pushes his way into your warm, spongy walls.

"Oh? Is it good there? Or here? Where, love? You gotta use your words," He teases and licks the tears rolling down your cheeks, peppering your soft skin with kisses. He feels you pulse and stretch around his hand, and he relishes the way your back arches when he curls his fingers just right against that sweet little spot. Desperate noises tumble out of you, and he smiles.

He pulls his fingers out, and you cry out at the sudden sensation. Your chest is heaving with small moans, and your pretty pussy is drooling onto the carriage cushions. He pushes your legs up to your chest for a better grip, and his shudders at the way your twitching feels against the head of his cock.

Yandere knight knows that, as he thrusts into you, he's going to enjoy the luxury of finally having you both under his body and under his control.

[memesonnets]

Hi my name is Don Quixote of La Mancha the Knight of the Rueful Figure and I have a rueful figure (that's how I got my name) with purple bruised ribs and tall stature and gaunt features and hair turning gray and a rather hooked aquiline nose and large black drooping mustaches and a lot of people tell me I look like Amadís of Gaul (AN: if u don’t know who he is begone!). I’m not related to Lady Oriana but I wish I was because she’s an incomparable flowering beauty. I’m a knight errant but some of my teeth and grinders are missing. I have long lank limbs. I’m also a defender of damsels, protector of orphans, succourer of the needy, righter of wrongs, undoer of injustice, and I wander a magic countryside called the mountains of Spain where I’m in my first year of knighthood (I’m forty-nine). I’m a gentleman (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly armor. I love my great-grandfather's forgotten corner of the house and I cobble together all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a doublet of fine cloth with matching shoes and velvet breeches and a helmet, morion, visor, breastplate and backpiece. I was riding outside La Mancha. It was early morning so the rays of the sun fell obliquely and the heat did not distress me, which I was very happy about. A lot of giants stared at me. I put up my pasteboard visor at them.

[clairiko]

i had a dream recently that wild used the four sword and its magic split him into his past, present and future selves 🤔 so ofc i had to draw this concept