#late night post is late

[katiefrog217]

Crowley wasn't good at doing it himself, but Aziraphale was more than happy to preen his wings for him.

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Crowley wasn't very good at taking care of his feathers.

Aziraphale's were always so immaculately groomed. Rarely was a feather out of place, unless he was going through a particularly ill-timed molt. Some called it vanity, Aziraphale called it "looking presentable".

He could hardly blame Crowley for his lack of self-care though; his serpentine physique was hardly equipped with the tools to care for them. If it really got bad, he could always miracle them into shape, though he hardly even bothered to do that.

It had gotten to Aziraphale one day and he had set about fussing with the demon's wings, plucking out every errant feather and straightening the remaining ones. By the time he finished his task, the black feathers shone glossy and pristine in the lamp light. He puffed up with pride as he examined his handiwork, only to wither as realization doused him like a bucket of ice water.

He glanced nervously at the owner of the wings, realizing with a start just how many feathers lay strewn about them. He could make an entire second pair of wings with them, and just as well since he had dug deep and found feathers that should have fallen out 2 molts ago (really, how had Crowley managed to stand it? It must have itched like anything)! Crowley, for his part, lay beneath the carnage, coiled tightly around Aziraphale unmoving. His glasses had long been set side, and Aziraphale turned to find himself being watched by those beautiful golden orbs. He pondered for a moment if Crowley was asleep (hard to tell since serpents couldn't blink), but a small flick of a tongue when their gazes met proved him wrong. He wished he'd been right.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. "Apologies my dear, i-it seems I got quite carried away..." He mumbled awkwardly, embarrassment evident in his tone, his feathers puffing reflexively. It was practically the understatement of the century. 'Carried away'. Preening one's feathers was an inherently personal, bordering on intimate, thing. Crowley especially didn't seem to like anyone touching his wings and here he had spent Heaven only knew how long preening them himself, WITHOUT SO MUCH AS ASKING HIM FIRST--

He shifted uncomfortably when Crowley didn't reply immediately, choosing instead to leisurely inspect the angelic dove's handiwork. The silence was deafening, and Crowley seemed determined to stretch it out indefinitely as his slit pupils raked over each feather individually. Aziraphale desperately searched his gaze for anything he could discern, but only found concentrated scrutiny.

Then finally, finally Crowley turned his golden gaze back to him, his tongue flickering thoughtfully. Aziraphale's heart hammered with anxiety as he unknowingly held his breath, his wings shuffling awkwardly at his side. His fluttering heart nearly took off itself when he finally heard Crowley's low drawl.

"Mhm, thanks. They look... Better. Clean. Neat. It felt... Nice," Crowley said slowly, his s's elongating as he eeked out the rare compliment, the last part mumbled so quietly Aziraphale nearly thought he imagined it. Before he could muster a reply, Crowley dipped his head, laying it firmly beneath Aziraphale's feathery breast. His coils tightened as one came up to cover his face, shielding his eyes from view. Evidently, he was done talking.

Aziraphale stood there silently for a moment, letting his racing heart slow to a more normal rhythm before he thought of trying to extract himself from the demon's coils. He had bothered Crowley enough for one night, he thought. However, the moment he made to move, those newly preened wings stretched out on either side, trapping him in, he quietly resigned himself instead.

He would find later that preening Crowley's feathers would, as many other things between them had, become part of their routine. On nights when they look particularly egregious or found themselves with nothing better to do, they would settle in a warm corner of Aziraphale's bookshop, and allow themselves this quiet, yet delicate moment between them.

[taffywabbit]

they should invent a new type of "staying in bed for 2-3 hours after you wake up repeatedly opening and closing apps on your phone" where it makes you feel awesome and energized and emotionally fulfilled

[undercovercannibal]

The Daily Show | Nov. 6 2024

[sunbloomdew]

do you ever see a person and you are overcome with incredible fondness? and you just think "oh." but not in a romantic or sexual way you are just filled with warmth and it makes you happy, it just does. and you think "i'm so happy you exist. i'm happy you are somewhere out there in the world, doing your thing". it's love but also not entirely

like people are lovely and i feel it in my entire chest like a burning candle that smells like roses and a sunny day

[nonebinary-leftbeef]

DEVASTATING the lyric you've been mishearing is better than the real one

[magentasnail]

an insect collection...

[stalebagels]

Edit: muted this monstrosity but if you're looking for the blank template it's on my blog and I'll tag this and it with "the stupid fucking shorts post" so you don't have to scroll through everything 💀😂 (I did not make the template btw, I don't know who the OP is but if you do please let me know)

[the-oracle-of-the-lost]

The Pantheon of Discord

[wizardmania]

The absolute silence today is gut wrenching. Leaflets were dropped on the west bank telling palistinians to go to Jordan. Last time they told them to go south and they got bombed. Everything about Palestine has suddenly dropped off trending and we know that staff has been suppressing the tags #free palestine and #palestine. Now its has to be every single tag that was trending, because i just simply do not believe we stopped talking about it over night. I feel so hopeless about this shit but the only thing we can do rn is to not stop talking. We have to stop trying to bury our heads in the sand and keep posting as if it was normal because its not normal. Palestinians don't get a break from the horror, the least we can do for them is to make sure their suffering isn't silent.

[twipsai]

i cant stop thinking about tiny omega in the trailer

[laddersofsweetmisery]

I don't see enough people mourning over the slow death of physical media. And I don't just mean TV shows, video games, or movies--which don't even get me started about how we don't really 'own' anything anymore. It includes notes, journals, and letters to one another...so much of our history is lost when we lose a password, a website goes down, a file/hardware is corrupted, or a platform disappears. History that doesn't seem important until you no longer have access to it. Physical media does a lot for memory recall. How many memories will we lose because we don't have something tangible to tie it back to? Something to hold in our hands and stir up those memories we thought were once lost? Sometimes I wonder what the difference between burning a book and losing access to physical media is when someone can pull the plug and remove your access so easily.

[ipad-baby-armand]

I’m so normal about this show and these idiots

[bacchuschucklefuck]

class swap design masterpost for convenience (from top to bottom: bard!riz, cleric!gorgug, sorcerer!kristen, barbarian!fig, artificer!adaine, and rogue!fabian)

[tazmiilly]

they've got other things to be doing

[manincaffeine]

Sex is cool but has anyone stayed awake with you just because you are feeling low?

[clockwayswrites]

Wibirbs Wobble Part 15

masterpost

Bruce stood, along with most of the theater as Cass and her dance partner came onto the stage to join the rest of the Cass. Bruce was so proud of her. Despite everything Cass had been through, she had grown to be such a kind, confident young lady. For her not only get up on a stage and dance but to also be the one of the leads was truly a testament to how hard she had worked to find a life she wanted.

Next to him, Danny stood, wavered, and ended up right back in his seat.

“Danny?”

“I’m fine, watch your daughter,” Danny said. He waved one hand dismissively at Bruce while he rested his forehead in the other.

He’d gone alarming pale.

Reluctantly, Bruce turned back to applaud one last time. As soon as the curtains closed, Bruce took a knee in front of Danny’s chair.

“I’m fine,” Danny tried again.

“You look like a ghost,” Bruce argued and took Danny’s wrist.

Danny covered a snort of laughter with his other hand.

Danny’s pulse fluttered weakly under Bruce’s fingers. “We should get you to an urgent care—”

“It’s fine,” Danny said. Even his smile looked a little weak. “I just need a moment.”

Bruce doubted that a moment would help much. “I’m worried about your pulse.”

“You caught that?” Danny asked, question curious and not at all concerned.

“I was studying to be a doctor at once point,” Bruce pointed out dryly.

“You were? Hum, maybe I’ve heard that before? I don’t really know,” Danny said before he shook his head a little. (The movement did Danny’s coloring no favors.) “But okay look, I know about my pulse issues. I’m having a bit of a bad… few weeks right now, but I’ll be fine. I’ve already seen my doctor about it. I get how it seems concerning, and yeah I need to keep taking it easy a bit, but this is pretty normal for me. I have some complications from an accident when I was a kid.”

Bruce frowned, searching the words for a lie.

There wasn’t one, even if there also wasn’t much information.

“At least let us offer you a ride home then,” Bruce insisted. He continued quickly when it seemed Danny would protest. “It really won’t be an issue and it would make me feel better to know you got home safe.”

Danny’s lips pressed together thinly.

Bruce pulled out the big guns. “And Cass would hate it if you were hurt from coming to see her perform.”

“Does she have everyone wrapped around her finger?” Danny asked, lips quirking into a little smile.

“Basically since she arrived,” Bruce said wryly. He stood and offered Danny both his arms, palms up. “Please stand carefully. If you go over the edge of the box I’ll have to drive to save you or something equally dramatic.”

“We would make the papers for sure,” Danny said. His grip was concernedly shaky as he wrapped his hands around Bruce’s forearms, but he stood in a smooth motion, even if he ended up basically leaning against Bruce’s chest. Danny stepped back after a second, cheeks dusted with red. “Okay, should I just… wait for you out front?”

“It’s adorable how you think I’m letting you out of my sight,” Bruce said. He rested his hand lightly on the small of Danny’s back and started to guide the other out of the box. “Again, you falling over the edge of the box, down the stairs, dramatically onto some absurdly pointy bit of Gotham architecture— these are all things I am not going to take a risk of happening to you.”

“You are such a father.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult,” Bruce said honestly as they took the back stairs down to avoid the crowd.

“Oh, well, more of just a statement? But definitely not an insult,” Danny insisted.

They were tucked slightly close together until the stairs opened up into a sitting room that was kept aside traditionally for those in the boxes. Tonight the Wayne name had kept it aside for for Bruce, his family, and their close friends. Well, and Danny, Bruce mused as he made the other sit down on the sofa that purely for looks and not comfort.

Bruce poured a glass of the recently refreshed water and brought it over to Danny.

“I really will be alright,” Danny said, but took the glass and a long sip. His color was a little better after some water. “I’ve been dealing with some level of this for… huh, almost twenty five years now. I sorta hadn’t realized that it had been so long… but anyways, that means I’m used to it.”

Bruce rested on the arm of the sofa. “Just because you’re used to it, that doesn’t mean that you have to bear it alone.”

Danny gave a little shrug. “But I do, Bruce, or a lot of it at least. I live alone after all.”

The door burst open as the room was swarmed with a multitude of Waynes and might-as-well-be-Waynes. It left Bruce without any time to respond to that and grateful, as he watched his family pile into the room, that he had been lucky enough despite everything to not end up alone.

Tim was the one who paused, as if just noticing Danny, before shaking his head. “Right, the engineer Cass invited! Hi, I’m Tim. I intern at WE so you might see me around there too. Well, not that you won’t see the others, but I mean that you might see me more often.”

“Nice to meet you Tim, though I don’t know how often you’ll be down by engineering,” Danny said.

Danny had a bit of a tight grip on the glass in his hands, but Bruce supposed it was a great deal of people very suddenly. There was something though…

“Oh, Tim is also a huge nerd,” Steph said as she threw her arm over Tim’s shoulder. “He likes to tinker so you might be surprised. Trust me, I’m his ex.”

“We only dated for months,” Tim said with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s Stephanie, a family friend,” Bruce cut in before things got far too out of hand. “You know Dick and this is Barbara, who he mentioned. Jason, my second oldest, is in the back with his boyfriend Roy, Duke is next to them, and this is Damian, my youngest.”

“Greetings,” Damian said. His tone was sever, but far more curious than cutting. Bruce was proud of the growth even if there was still more work to be done.

“Hello everyone. Like Tim said, I’m Danny,” Danny said with a little smile that was mostly real with just a bit of polite company strain. “Cass spent an afternoon in my office chatting with me. I suppose since we talked so much about the show, she invited me to see it. Sorry to invade your family time though, I didn’t know I would be doing that.”

“That’s just how this family goes,” Barbara said with a soft chuckle. “Trust me, I’ve been around them long enough to know how they absorb people.”

“Way to make us sound nefarious, Barbie,” Jason grumbled.

“No, no, you guys are,” Roy said casually. “It’s in a good way, sure, but you’re still sorta nefarious and you definitely absorb people. This isn’t even everyone.”

“Have I apologized for them already?” Bruce asked, though he supposed the fond warmth in his words ruined the intent.

Luckily Danny just gave a soft laugh. “Don’t. The best sort of family and friendships all have a good helping of chaos and malarkey.”

“Malarkey?” Steph repeated.

“It’s a good word, illiterate ingrate,” Jason defended.

The room dissolve into chaos and Bruce turned to apologize again only to find Danny watching the group with a small but fond smile.