#onyx crowley

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

💚anon

[Meltdown]

Crowley: Theon, can you help me with my paperwork?

Yuu: On it!

~

Adeuce: Can you help us paint the roses red?

Yuu: Sure.

~

Sebek: Human! Help me find Malleus-sama!

Silver: It'd be of great help..

Yuu: Okay..

~

Reyna: Can you help Kalim with his homework? Jamil has a fever.

Yuu: No problem...

~

Rayn and Onyx: Can you help us clean Main Street?

Yuu: ...Mhm...

~

Grim: Can I have some of your lunch? 'm still hungry.

Yuu, pushes his food over: ... That's fine...

~

[Mostro Lounge] - Closing hours

*Yuu crossed his arms over a table, resting his head in them.*

Verde: Yuusei-san, we're closed—

*Yuu lifted his head slightly, revealing tear stains on his cheeks.*

Verde: ...Yuusei-san? What's wrong?

Yuu: ... it's all too much...

Verde: Let me guess—everyone asked you a quite a bit of favors and you agreed to all of them so now you're stressed?

Yuu: ... that's oddly specific for a guess.

Verde: It wasn't. Scoot over. *He sat next to Yuu* I was in the same boat as you, you know. I got through it. And you will too. But first, you gotta learn how to say no.

Yuu: ....

Verde, placing a hand on Yuu's back: ...Jade, Floyd, bring some water and a dessert.

Yuu: ...I don't have money for that-

Verde: My treat. I insist.

Jade: Of course.

Floyd: Shrimpy's having a rough day.

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Contour Corset in Onyx (n/a) & The Sweat Short in Stone French Terry ($128) from Joah Brown with the Re-Edition 2005 Leather Shoulder Bag from Prada ($2,600) and Square SQ40 Camera from Instax ($149.95)

[delightindarkness]

@perilousxlives

[crowley-in-arkham]

Albus City: the Gotham Antithesis, or so Rook says.

I'd say he's right, even amidst the winter season Albus seems warm—despite the military occupation.

When Rook asked me to keep my passport ready, I was somewhat taken aback by the sheer amount of precautionary measured implemented. I can somewhat understand why Crane never made it out this way.

"Arkham?" One of the guards eyes my ID critically, "We haven't had a doctor from there come into Albus for a while."

"Someone from Arkham?" I asked, furrowing a brow. (If it's Crane I'll lose my mind.)

"Uh, yeah, Arkham—I think. I assume the founder? Or related? Lanky guy, bad haircut—round glasses. Looks like he just walked out of the 50s."

"That'd be Jeremiah Arkham." Rook snickered, "He's the founder's son."

"I'm not here for work," I piped up, "Just to get a license."

Rook chuckled, "Kust here for the beauty of the Sunbleached City!"

The guard raised a brow, looking at Rook with a sting of familiarity. "You Fujimoto's boy?"

Rook seemed to straighten up in his seat, "Yeah, uh, Inko's my mom."

"Hope you're doing her proud up in Gotham," the guard squint his eyes, "Not gettin into fights still, I hope?"

Rook stared at the guard for a moment then it clicked to him: "Oh! I didn't even recognize you Bryn!"

The guard let out a hardy laugh and ruffled the Avian's hair, "Just glad you did eventually. What a fine coincidence, bein' on duty the day you decided to come home."

"It's good to see you! Suppose its better you than someone else have to hear me explain why the Doc and I are here."

"Well, lay it on me an' I'll lend you an ear," the guard flashed me a fanged grin and a wink.

"I'm not sure what I can and cannot disclose—" I started, before Rook interjected.

"The doctor's just treading carefully. She has kind of latent anomaly. While I'm here I'm gonna have Dr. White take a look at her, maybe he'll spy something Gotham can't."

The guard narrowed his golden eyes, "I know I needn’t tell you, Rook, but, your friend here should get the history lesson before she goes pokin' around the Heart."

"Heart?" I echoed to myself.

The wolf-like guard pointed a clawed hand up towards a large skyscraper crowned in glass domes: beside it, like a false sun, a glowing white ball of some ethereal nature.

"That's the Heart," The guard explained, standing back up, from Rook's window. "Give her all the Albus City warnings once you get home, especially if she'll be prodding at White and the other researchers. Last thing we need right now is more stress on the labrats: Creed's got that covered."

"Will do, sir."

Frankly, I was left with far more questions than answers. Rook drove carefully through the city, explaining district after district and gang relationship to gang relationship.

I was surprised with the nature of Albus, the city was treated as if it were an independent state from the rest of the US because of it's anomalous nature.

I sighed, interjecting on Rook explaining why the Hawkwood Majors and the Springtown Wreckers contest over territory despite Haven being Vig territory. Whatever those words mean.

"What exactly does Dr. White do?"

Rook chuckled, "Basically what Strange does, but instead of tampering with your DNA he only tries to stabilize anything dangerous."

"Stabilize anything dangerous?" I said skeptically, "Like, cure cancer?"

"No, he only works with anomalies—like you, me, Ivy. Some anomalies can be incredibly dangerous and unstable—like the Majors I was talking about earlier."

I chuckled, "You lost me when you were on the Majors."

Rook snickered, "No worries, its a lot. Majors get their name from their shared anomaly. It's just called Majoris: it just makes them big. It's one of the most common anomalies: yet one of the most unstable."

"Unstable how?"

"They can randomly lash out, sent into a blind rage by some unknown stimulant— like— Epilepsy. Something in their brain gets triggered. Instead of seizing though— it's like their adrenal system goes into hyperdrive and they go full elephant rut. Terrible stuff."

"So Dr. White helps them? Fixes them?"

"He's more like a—" Rook motions his hand looking for the word, before clicking and exclaiming: "Like a psychiatrist for metahumans!"

"I see," I mulled quietly, before adding an optimistic, "I can't wait to meet him then."

Rook shook his head excitedly, "Honestly, you'll get to meet pretty much everyone."

I tilted my head, "Everyone?"

Rook shrugged, "Maybe not the Vigilants, but my mom and people she works with, definitely!"

I furrowed my brows and smiled, "Well, I'm sure your mother is lovely— but, um—" I chuckled awkwardly, "Who— who are the Vigilants?" Rook had pulled into a space in front of a building complex. It was a quaint little dojo wedged between a natural remedy shop and an attorney's office.

Rook chuckled and looked at me with a raised brow, "Seriously?"

I apologized, "Sorry, sorry, I've never heard of them."

Rook chuckled, "They're like Albus' personal Justice League: it's best not to think about it much deeper than that though."

"Why not?"

"Albus isn't a perfect city," Rook shrugged, "it's just inverse Gotham. Instead of seeing it go down on the streets, it all goes down in boardrooms and laboratories."

Rook hopped out of the Jeep and plucked my bag from the back seat. When we entered, he'd held the dojo door open for me.

It was a decorated dojo, with soft brown and tan tatami mats and tasteful ink murals on the walls.

"Welcome to the Yamakarasu Dojo," Rook chuckled, "the stairs are over here."

A woman around my height poked her head out from a storage room.

"Is that—" the woman asked through a squinted gaze, flicking down a pair of brown glasses. She gasped, busting out from behind the counter leaving a crash of books and papers in her wake: "My little mountain crow!" The winged woman basically tackled Room out the door.

"Hey ma—" The woman seemed to only register my presence after tacking her son out of the door, "This is my co-worker, Mina."

The woman laughed and took my hand in hers, apologizing, "Sorry, sorry, Sousuke never calls so I had no idea you two were coming!"

I narrowed my eyes at Rook who chuckled awkwardly.

"Come on upstairs and I'll get the guest room set up for you," She motioned, "A bit close to the holidays to be making your way to Albus, don't you think?"

Rook chuckled, "Two birds with one stone."

I looked at him and so did his mother.

Rook laughed, "Well, I thought it was funny."

His mother rolled her eyes and lead me up to the main apartment: a tiny nook with pleasant green walls and a myriad of plants throughout.

"Ivy would like it here," I chuckled, nudging Rook on the shoulder.

The avian snickered and carried my bags, following behind his mother.

"What did you come home for anyway, Sou?" Rook's mother asked, while I eyed the photos on the wall.

"I need to have Marcus take a look at Crowley," Rook admitted, "She's a bit of a unique case."

Rook's mother raised a brow, "She looks fine to me."

Rook chuckled, "Well, she wasn't really—" he took a moment to find the word, "One of us before."

Inko chuckled from the guest room, "The hell does that mean, Sousuke?"

Rook sighed, "She didn't have wings ma."

Into stopped and laughed wryly, "What?"

"She was 110% normal human until recently."

"You mean to say she just—" Inko flicked her fingers out to mimic a poof.

"Yeah, except kind of literally."

Rooks mother sat on the bed and looked at me, "So, tell me what happened."

I turned and pondered for a moment on what I could and couldn't say.

"Trust me, I won't tell a soul no matter how questionably ethical it might be."

I hesitated, and Inko sighed, "Alright. Take your shirt off."

"Excuse me?"

"Mina, just trust me."

"Does Rook have to be here?"

"Would you rather it be me or Dr. White?" Inko said flatly.

I stopped and sighed, "Fair enough."

I struggled to pull newly grown wings from my shirt's haphazardly cut back, before sitting down on the bed next to Rook's mother.

She stood up and began eyeing my arms and neck critically.

She stopped when she spotted a small scar on my abdomen.

"Have you had any repetitive injections in the last few months?"

Rook looked concerned.

"I can't say for certain, but I do have reason to believe I have, yeah."

Inko stared at me with wild concern, "You have reason to believe? The hell happened to you?"

Inko shook her head, "Sousuke, I'm going to come to the lab with you when you see White. If anyone else has received the treatment Mina here has: I would like to know immediately."

I pondered, "The only one I know for certain is Jon."

Rook piped up, "Could you elaborate? We're kind of in the dark about this."

Inko sighed, "I can explain when we get to the lab. I want to run some tests to determine whether or not this is what I think it is."

"What you think it is?" Rook barked, "Mom, would you just tell us?"

"When the Heart first opened there were a ton of projects opened up to understand anomalies in Albus and why they occurred so much differently and far more frequently in Albus than anywhere else in the world," Inko explained while she pulled a coat on.

"A few projects regarded a substance that was discovered after the Heart opened: we call it Rylumine, and it's something all anomalies in Albus share. These projects aimed to create consistent and artificial anomalies by injecting foreign fetus' and babies with the substance: the only—" She made quotations with her fingers, "'Successful' project being Operation Lazarus."

"Marcus and I will explain more when we get to the lab," the woman assured, "but I have reason to suspect that you and this 'Jon' fella have been subject to Rylumine injections."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Anomalies are a dice roll. Some people become angels, some people end up like Claude Gideon."

"Claude Gideon?"

"Albus City Bruce Wayne:" Rook interjected, "if Bruce Wayne went nuts and murdered his girlfriend."

"What?"

Inko motioned her hand, "Sorry for giving you zero downtime, hun, but you might have been caught in the midst of Albus' dirty laundry."

I've never been more confused in my life.

[frogsinflannel]

What should we name our new kitten? He is black and white and small and precious

[crowpocrypha]

Gloomy nighttime Mina rant? You guessed it. I know these aren't really what people come to this blog for but: I drop them anyway.

I'll repost on sidenotes since that blog is intended for this kind of stuff.

I love to create. I've been mulling over a lot of my content push as of late because: I'm now seeing there's an audience interested in it—but I feel like I'm stuck in a rut without a place to go.

I still feel incredibly insecure about my art, writing, and even my poetry— despite the validation I get from people in my day to day life.

I write poetry to vent and stimulate, and while I can call myself a "Poet" on my resumé: I don't want to be a "poet".

As some of you may know, I'm writing a novel titled Onyx Feathers on Snow—and I use some of the sets from my OFOS universe in Crowley in Arkham—and characters and themes.

I never really wanted to dedicate as much time as I do to CIA: I always had the intention of using it to get comfortable writing dialogue exchange— but eventually it felt more like "Get it out. Quantity over quality."

Which is why there was a tonal shift back in October: so that I could bring back some semblance of "quality" to it.

Ironically, the way I write Jon? I absolutely despise— but I felt like he couldn't feel too much like a character that already existed in the universe I have: Luciel Bright. My criminologist/detective in my wip "Lady In White" the work that bore my first short-story back in 2019.

I'll probably end up reworking CIA to be more appealing to me: I was writing it during a horrible episode while I was overseas, and though I no longer have the time I had before, I still adore that someone reads CIA and people enjoy something I made.

I got overzealous when I realized I could have a following that is less interested in me and more interested in what I make.

Though this blog is mostly people interested in my shitposts and my Scarecrow simpage— I do like to know I don't have people following me because of something superficial.

It's just not for me.

I like that I can say something I think and have both validation and criticism.

I know that my followings absolutely do not overlap: and while I find that difficult to juggle— I can understand why.

The people who read my books aren't going to be interested in my livestreaming, and those that are—come join! I talk about my manuscripts all the time and you can hang out as I rant about my trial-and-error process and some of my concerns with major plot points or pondering the potential interpretations of my narrative.

Sometimes, I join the Jetwaves and we read standardized reading and give commentary on them.

I guess I did start this post regarding my insecurity on my internet persona, and whether or not I'll have to abandon it.

I don't want to— and I don't see myself doing that— but, you'll have to get used to these long bouts of be not posting much or— not much of interest.

I just have very little time; now that I've returned to my normal responsibilities and a full-time job.

I have to cut my work hours again for school— and while I love a lot of my daily job-- I'm woefully underpaid and my management is just disrespectful. (Quietly voicing my qualms with my corporate overlord—thank god nobody that works with me follows me)

I just have very little time to put towards what I want to do— that's to dedicate to my goal and– I hate to sound ignorantly romantic:

My dreams.

All I want out of life is to write a good book and be a decent author—but sometimes I think I'm not as passionate about writing as I should be.

I have no drive to write.

Sometimes, someone reminds me of the world I see in my mind’s eye and the sensations I feel walking through it. The look of the mountains looming overhead, the smell in the wind, the taste of the air, the feeling of the ground below, the bustling sound of the towns— I am taken with inspiration at the crunch of snow underfoot.

It's only then, when I'm forced to remember— that I want to write.

When someone is delighted by something I've written—or even cared to read it at all.

I want to write.

Yet, my father, who I trust much and appreciate now that I have him in my life: treats my dreams as he treated them before he read "Man of Glass"—like they were impossible and unrealistic.

I had to get published before my father realized it was a viable option for me.

I believe that to be my biggest qualm with him.

Sorry for going on for so long about this: I'll head to bed now. Thanks for reading, anyway.

[pupsmailbox]

GOTH ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　abby. ace. addam. alister. amelia. amoret. ange. angel. angelo. anubis. arch. archette. ash. aslan. aspen. astor. astoria. astrophel. atticus. axelle. azazel. azrael. bael. bat. batsy. bella. bellatrix. blade. blair. blanchette. brahms. branwen. cain. callan. calliope. cannibelle. caskeite. casketta. caskette. caspian. celeste. celestia. chaos. charlotte. cherry. chira. chiraelle. chiro. chiroptairre. chiroptelle. chiropteranne. choir. christian. cofette. coffin. coffine. constantine. corbin. corpse. crimson. crow. crowley. damian. damien. demonesse. divina. dorian. draven. edgar. elatha. elijah. elix. elwin, elwin. elwood. ember. emmaline. etienne. evan. evangeline. eve. faith. forest. forrest. frill. frille. frilleine. frilliette. frilly. genesis. ghost. gothita. gothitelle. gothitess. gothitesse. grey. gwen. gypsy. hades. hawthorne. hecate. hemlock. imortalle. imortella. iris. israel. jakob. jet. jett. johnas. josiah. judas. kain. kane. kedi. keir. lacey. laciene. laciette. lazarus. leo. lilith. lilithe. lolita. lucid. lucien. lucifer. lucius. luscious. lynx. maeve. malice. mana. martyr. max. melancholy. merle. micah. michael. misery. mordred. morris. mors. morte. mortis. mourge. mourgette. myrette. nightshade. noah. noctre. nocturne. noir. obsidian. oleander. omen. onyx. orion. orpheus. ozul. ozzy. prince. prophet. raven. ravenie. raveniette. rook. rowan. ruby. saber. saint. salem. samael. samuel. scarlet. secrette. seraph. serenity. shilo. shiloh. silas. silver. silvester. skelly. skulliene. skulliette. skully. sorrow. sylvester. syn. thorn. thorne. tobias. tommy. trix. umbriel. valkyrie. valo. vervain. vesper. victoria. ville. violetta. vito. vlad. woundie. zeon. zephyrine.

PRONOUNS ⌇　abby/abby. ae/aer. ash/ash. bat/bat. bleed/bleed. blood/blood. book/book. bug/bug. burn/burn. chain/chain. chap/chapel. chill/chill. claw/claw. cloud/cloud. cob/cobweb. cof/coffin. coffin/coffin. corps/corpse. creep/creep. cri/cross. cro/cros. cross/cross. cross/crosse. da/dark. dae/dae. dae/daem. dark/dark. decay/decay. dee/dark. des/despair. devout/devout. div/divine. dust/dust. echo/echo. edge/edgy. en/envie. fae/fang. fang/fang. fe/fear. fie/fiend. fog/fog. fri/frill. frill/frill. ghost/ghost. ghoul/ghoul. gore/gore. goth/goth. goth/gothic. gra/grave. grave/grave. ha/haunt. halo/halo. hie/hiem. ho/holy. holy/holy. horn/horn. hx/hxm. hy/hym. ink/ink. lace/lace. lae/lace. lost/lost. mist/mist. moon/moon. net/fishnet. ni/night. night/night. null/null. par/parasol. parasol/parasol. pray/pray. pray/prayer. proph/prophet. ro/rose. rose/rose. rot/rot. rust/rust. sac/sacrifice. saint/saint. scar/scar. shx/hxr. shy/hyr. si/sinister. sin/sin. sku/skull. skull/skull. snake/snake. spider/spider. spike/spike. sto/storm. stud/stud. thou/thorn. thron/thorn. thxy/thxm. vae/vaer. ve/ver. velvet/velvet. vo/void. whis/whisper. whisper/whisper. witch/witch. wood/wood. x/x. xae/xaer. × . ♠️ . ♣️ . ⚰️ . ⛓️ . 🌑 . 💀 . 🕯 . 🕷 . 🕸 . 🖤 . 🥀 . 🦇 .

[vavoom-sorted-art]

Of Kings And Kids - Chapter 1

Welcome to @gaiaseyes451 and my Christmas collab! We'll be publishing a chapter every day, whith the fifth and final chapter going up on the 26th of December!

Head to AO3 to read the entire chapter.

*~*~*

Aziraphale stood at the town’s well, clay cup in hand, and drank, grateful for the cool water. While the journey from Nazareth hadn’t been particularly arduous, the angel was happy for an opportunity to rest after traversing the loamy, rolling hills; especially after guiding a flock of sheep and goats for the last five days. Michael had assured him, when she was briefing him on the Mission Messiah assignment, that Heaven had an alias prepared this time. Somehow, Silas the shepherd who was leading his flock of bovids to Bethlehem for the autumn livestock auction was not precisely the backstory Aziraphale had expected. Nevermind that Bethlehem had never held a livestock auction before, best not to question these things.

Bethlehem was built around the town’s well which stood in the center of a courtyard. Most inns and lodging houses surrounded the well while private residences were scattered among the slopes. The city was surrounded by a modest wall with roads granting access from the North and South. The land itself was lovely rolling hills with lush grasslands and natural grottos, perfect for grazing livestock. It would have been conspicuous if a shepherd had moved at the same pace as a woman who was about to give birth, so Aziraphale had arrived ahead of the holy family. He was glad for the chance to get acquainted with the town and for the brief respite before the real work started.

Preparing for the arrival of the Messiah really was quite stressful.

Having filled his waterskin, Aziraphale was about to head off to one of the rest houses to sample the local cuisine when a familiar voice called out.

“Hello, angel!”

Aziraphale stopped short. While he was always happy to see this particular demon on his assignments, having him this close to the savior’s birth was a tad disconcerting. He turned and greeted him warmly, even if his smile was a bit cautious. “Crawly! Hello.”

“Ah, actually, call me Crowley.” He said, casually.

“Oh, have you changed your name?” Aziraphale asked.

“Nah, not officially. Just tryin’ it out for a bit. ‘Sides, little odd to have a nobleman called ‘Crawly’.” He said, gesturing to himself.

Aziraphale took a moment to take in Crowley’s garb.The demon was wearing his hair a bit longer, russet waves held out of his eyes by a beaded headband. He was clothed in his preferred hues in a deep charcoal robe and cloak made from fine linen with patterns embroidered in red at the neckline and hem. The cloak was fastened at the shoulder with an onyx snake broach and synched at the waist with a burgundy leather belt with a serpentine fastener. The robe drew his eyes down to strappy sandals that accentuated Crowley’s calves. His wrists were adorned with wide, silver cuffs that emphasized his svelte arms and long fingers.

Aziraphale dragged his eyes back to Crowley’s face and attempted to make eye contact through the dark lenses. “Well, hello, Crowley. What brings you to Bethlehem?”

*~*~*

Keep reading on Ao3 to see additional illustrations! We'd love to hear your thoughts! Find all chapters and additional content for this story here.

big thanks to @goodomensafterdark for the support!

Happy Holidays and Happy Reading!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Heel, Stay, and Shake.

🐦‍⬛ What’s this? A wild bird in our classroom? Now we can’t have that, can we? 🧪

By My Hand.

Raven didn’t know what to expect when Professor Crewel asked to see him after class. A summons from him typically meant one of two things: a thorough scolding or remedial work. Sometimes both.

She wasn’t the type for either. Raven kept her head down and behaved—and thus stood off to the side of his wrath. And now here she was, standing in the line of fire.

“Wooow, sucks to be you,” Ace had sneered on his way out. “The goody-two-shoes finally gets into trouble herself!”

“Leave her alone, Ace,” Deuce grumbled, “You don’t want to make things worse for her than they already are.”

Even the Prefect, Yuu—level-headed, neutral—had passed her a look of sympathy. But they cleared out of the laboratory the same as the rest, leaving Raven to her doom.

The heavy wooden door slammed shut, trapping her in with their teacher.

Crewel had traded his lab coat and safety goggles for his usual attire: a black and white color-blocked vest, black undershirt and slacks, smart shoes that clicked with every step, blood red gloves, socks, and tie. Over this, a striped fur coat with several tails, the insides a shocking scarlet.

He ran a hand through his hair—black slicked back, white in a graceful sweep of parted bangs. His eyes, a shade of iced onyx, dug into her like the teeth of a dog. Not enough to pierce the skin, but enough to threaten to.

She struggled not to tremble under his gaze. Raven knew it to be discerning and, more importantly, unrelenting in its critique.

“Crowley.”

“Y-Yes!!” Raven yelped, standing at attention. Her posture naturally corrected itself at his voice. Back stiffening, head lifting. “Wh-Whatever it is I’ve said or done to offend you, I apologize! I will reflect on my actions and do better in the future!”

“Offend me?” Crewel’s surprise melted into a devilish smirk. “You’ve done nothing of the sort. However, I’m flattered that you would think yourself in such dire need of my private instruction.”

“Eh? Then what did you need me for…?”

“A curiosity of mine. I hope you do not mind.”

“N-No, sir! Curiosity not minded!”

A chuckle.

Crewel extended his pointer to a line of shelves. “I’ve heard from the headmaster that you care for colorants. Is that correct?”

Raven was all too eager to provide the answer and then book it out of there. “That’s right. I brew some in my spare time. They’re enchanted inks, meant for writing and journaling.”

“Inks? What, may I ask, makes them ‘enchanted’?”

“Well…” Raven gestured to a potted mandrake. “It’s like cultivation. I infuse magic into the ink, which grants them fun properties. Smelling like an orange slice, glowing even long after you’ve penned it, words that produce the sounds they write out.”

“I see.” Interest had started to seep into Crewel’s voice. “Have you ever thought to extend this skill to other areas of application?”

“No, not really. It’s just something I got into to save on pocket money. Commercial inks can be expensive, so I thought to make my own with the ingredients gathered from around campus…”

Raven trailed off.

A glint had settled into Crewel’s eyes. The very same shine that came into Crowley’s at the mention of money or fresh game.

“It seems to me,” Crewel said slowly, “that you have a talent.”

A stone dropped into her stomach.

Uh-oh, here comes trouble.

“I would very much like to train that talent.” He tapped his pointer into an open palm. Each strike light, but had all the gravity of a gravel.

“Huh?!”

“You’re familiar with Night Raven College’s charity ball?”

“Yes…”

She couldn’t forget it even if she tried. The headmaster had droned about it for the last several weeks, declaring it a “prime time” to look good to the public. (Half of those weeks had been spent preening and wondering which suit and tie to wear.)

“School staff are to be in attendance to oversee the event. This year, we’re donating the proceeds to an animal shelter on Sage’s Island—a cause I’m particularly passionate about. As such, I would like to wear something stunning—and to dazzle at a show, you must have the element of surprise. I will be designing my own outfit. That is where you will come in.

“I will provide the materials, and you will prepare the dye for it. I want a unique color and magical effect that suits my image and enhances it.”

“But I don’t know the first thing about fabrics or treating them,” Raven protested faintly.

“Which is why I will mentor you. It will be a collaborative effort.”

“I-I’m sure you’re entirely capable of accomplishing this on your own, Professor! After all, Crewel-sensei is so very skilled…”

“Tch.” He frowned, making his displeasure clear. “You are missing the point, pup. Do you really think I wouldn’t have already done so, were that my intention?”

Raven flinched. “I don’t know, sir.”

“Night Raven College is making efforts to promote teamwork in its curriculum and extracurricular activities. For such a front-facing event, our new direction will be center stage. You’re a clever girl. I’m certain I do not need to explain the importance of this.”

“Surely there are more ideal candidates, sir… Students far more qualified than me. V-Vil-senpai? Or a Science Club member? Rook-senpai might be interested.”

“Of course I am aware of that—but this isn't about them. This is about you."

His pointer sliced through the air, so sharp that it cracked like a whip, aiming itself right at her. Crewel's face was the picture of arrogance, a high and mighty king looking down at the peasants. (Raven suddenly understood why he, of all teachers, was a Night Raven College graduate.)

"Since the day you scampered into my classroom, you've been nothing but a meek little thing. Obedience is all well and good, but you lack a bark and a bite, the confidence to be bold and to demonstrate your ability with pride. Schoenheit and the others already have that.

“You must learn how to speak up, pup! And this Crewel-sama will be the one to teach that to you.”

“B—But…”

“No buts!” he snapped. “If you’re going to reject the idea, then do so with your entire chest! I will accept it as proof of your bite. If you cannot muster that, then you will submit yourself to my guidance. What will it be?”

Raven shrunk back—proving his point. Speak up? Louder, more sternly—against her own teacher? She couldn’t.

Yikes, he’s so fired up about this… There’s no way I can comfortably say ‘no’!

She balled her fists up, terribly twisting her skirt. Raven sighed deeply, resigning herself to her fate.

“… Alright, I will do my best to assist, Crewel-sensei. In return, I will be relying on you too.”

“Good girl. You’ve made your choice.” Crewel offered a hand. “Then let us shake on it.”

She hesitantly took it. His grip was firm and resolute, hers limp and unenthusiastic.

At last, he smiled in satisfaction. “I look forward to instructing you, Crowley. I expect you to keep up.”

Never in her life had she felt more like some poor dog strung along on a leash.

[sweetbunpura]

Would the baby foxes live with fox couple after Halloween or comes visit from time to time?

Yuu opens up Ramshackle to them since Silver said they didn't have a home or parents. The fox cubs are playful, often times playing games with Grim if Yuu and Rollo are busy. Opal cozies up to Rollo whenever he's reading, either napping in his lap or sleeping by his side. Onyx goes out running with Yuu during her workouts and jogging.

Now the kits follow them around the school and joins them in their classes. Since Rollo is in Malleus' class (Crowley called it exposer therapy even after the pair of them started multiple fights), Opal occasionally growls at Malleus, Rollo rewards them with treats every time they do so.

Oynx has caused so many problems in class, but they're too cute to punish. Yuu commands Onyx with a strict word, mostly in Japanese, and the fox cub returns to her side.

Overall, it's way more lively in Ramshackle... and Yuu needs a bigger bed cause the cubs have taken to sleeping with her, Rollo, and Grim.

[changingplumbob]

A-Z Challenge: List your sims in order, trying to complete the alphabet

Let's do this! Apologies in advance to all my sims that I'll forget about. I'm doing this without looking at my lists for extra challenge. I'm going to include some background sims as well if I can remember but some letters will be hard.

A

Adam Knightstone, Aaron York, Alexander Goth, Artemisia York, Alfred Villareal. Shared custody of Art Lockhart-Rue and Aurora Crowley. Custody of a slightly changed Ariadne Sterling.

B

Bob Pancakes, Byron Twain Delarosa (almost forgot my heir whoops), Bella Goth

C

Charlie Nishidake, Coraline Jane Delarosa, Calista York, Cassandra Chopra, Carson Foster, Cluckton Chopra (rooster), Clover Nishidake (dog). Shared custody of Caden Lockhart-Rue.

D

Deanna York, Devin Villareal, Delphine Hubert, Darwin (friend of Onyx/Carson), Dina Caliente, Denton Levine

E

Eliza Pancakes

F

Fergus Pancakes

G

Ginger Pancakes (dog), Gertrude Goth (cat), Glenn Sutherland, Geoffrey Landgraab (SBL), Geoffrey Landgraab (Poor)

H

Hamlet Goth (cat), Hugo Villareal, Harvey Foster, Harper Levine

I

Don't think I have any?

J

James Goth, Joey York, Jessica Benali, Johnny Zest (SBL), Johnny Landgraab (Poor)

K

Kayleigh Foster, Kaori Nishidake, Keira Romero

L

Luna Villareal, Lavina Chopra

M

Milton Goth, Marta Romero, Maelstrom Pancakes (foal), Max & Miriam Villareal, Malcolm Landgrabb (SBL), Malcolm Landgrabb (Poor), Michael Bachelor, Mercedes Chopra

N

Nina Caliente, Nancy Landgraab (Poor), Nancy Landgraab (SBL), Nicolas (forgotten his last name)

O

Onyx Pancakes

P

Pollock Knightstone, Paris Pearl

Q

Quinn Ryder (sitting in my library)

R

Rilian Villareal, Reece Foster, Rahul Chopra

S

Suzanna Knightstone, Samir Hadji, Silas Knightstone, Salim Benali, Strawberry Pancakes (dog), Savannah Chopra, Shay McClain

T

Tiana Pancakes, Tuesday (Joey's fwb)

U

?

V

Viola Chopra

W

Will Gavin

X

Xander Hanks

Y

Yvonne Ryder

Z

Custody of Zayden Crowley.

Okay so all letters except I and U isn't bad but I really feel like I've forgotten an I character because surely I must have one...

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

💚anon

[Fever (1)] After School - Ramshackle Dorm, Onyx's Room

*Onyx let out a small groan, her cheeks flushed as she buried herself under 2 layers of blankets.*

Rayn, checking her temperature: Yeesh. You're not going to any classes today. Let me get you something to eat and medicine.

Onyx, small whine:

Rayn: Don't give me that look, you're not getting out of drinking your medicine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Eldest Sibling GC]

Rayn: Is anyone free? Onyx has a fever but me and Theon have to go to our club meeting.

Verde: Sorry. Jade snuck a mushroom into our food so we all have food poisoning.

Hannah: I would, but the other girls would be disappointed in me if I don't show up.

Trey: I'm busy baking for the next Unbirthday Party tomorrow.

Jin: Can't. I'm working in the library for extra credit, and the Viper twins and Yena are busy finding Kalim.

Kaiden: I'm busy grading projects.

Rayn: Riddle-san? What about you? I believe the Horse-Riding Club meet is canceled for today, no?

Riddle: It was. I can take care of her.

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Contour Corset in Onyx from Joah Brown (n/a), Frankies Long Line Short with Ribbed Hem from One Teaspoon (n/a), Diane Purse in Navy from Louis Vuitton ($2,830), Training Crew Socks in White from Nike ($28 for 6 pairs) & Travis Scott x Air Jordan 1 Low OG "Reverse Mocha" Sneakers (n/a)

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

𝕷𝖆𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖆

Lacrimosa dies illa Qua resurget ex favilla Judicandus homo reus Lacrimosa dies illa Qua resurget ex favilla Judicandus homo reus - Lacrimosa, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

You’re no stranger to the feeling of numbness.

Even if you never had the chance of being acquainted with it back in your home world, you had plenty of opportunities to familiarise its cold, detached hopelessness from your time in this plane. Of course, your first memories of this were the blind panic that seized you when you first arrived or the lightheadedness that washed over you after you succumbed to the injuries Housewarden Rosehearts had inflicted on you or when you became more and more aware of Crowley’s manipulations. 

You compared it to the crisp tingling that engulfed you when Azul and his twin cronies who lusted for terror as much as they did blood and agony had sent you to the frigid depths of the sea and the submerged Mostro Lounge. Who knew that mental numbness and physical numbness were completely different flavours of the same bitter meal. You didn’t before you do now.

You’re falling, drowning, thrashing and flailing in meaningless desperation against the despair around you.

Trouble may come in threes but only company that misery is crowing to desire is you it seems, as it pulls you along for its twisted dance macabre - it’s cold, sadistic fingers gripping your figure, harsh and unforgiving, as it manhandled you to a rhythm you’ve never heard of, living deep, dark imprints in it’s unyielding wake. It crushed you against it, leaving no room for air or words to enter your lungs, and you looked helplessly towards the shadowed corners of your vision, towards the unseeing gazes of grinning onlookers, your tender feet burning and blistering with every new step, with every new unpredictable move, as they took deranged pleasure in your plight. And with a scorching spotlight above you, all you could do was relent.

You wanted off. You wanted to leave this chessboard that everyone but you could see. You wanted to tear off the blood-soaked puppet strings that were digging and searing into your wrists. But you couldn’t. In this world, your life was not your own but merely a toy. A pawn. Some form of entertainment that gave them a means to an end. The black spiderwebs of your scars that clung and coiled around your skin, the onyx discolouration of your magic-induced gashes and obsidian veins were proof that your nightmares were real, that you are stuck in this hopeless existence.

Kindness was your hamartia, you realised. The love that you swore by, that you held dear to your heart, one of the only fragments of you that hadn’t been ripped away from you, was the very reason you were left chained in this prison. If your peace were your wings then your kindness was the sadistically scorching inferno that melted the wax between them, sending you plummeting to your tragedy. 

Love ruined you so it simply had to leave. After all, your broken spirit was already a price you paid for your hopelessly optimistic naivety, the reason you were unaware of the consequences of no good deed going unpunished. 

Your thoughts sang a final requiem to the person you used to be, a soft symphony of saudade that got fainter and fainter as you felt the writhing of something within you. Whispered voices that embraced you with their comfortably icy caresses, the wispy tendrils of your soul softening with every alluring cajole and when you let yourself sink into their assuaging depths, you were reborn.

It was strange how still the air inside Ramshackle had become. The ricocheting echoes of your heels along the tar covered floor were the only signs that something was within it. Even the darkness enshrouded depths of the Ramshackle Wood were silent. Not even the barest breath of life could be somewhat acknowledged. 

Was that odd?

You can’t remember what it was like to feel, to be more than this cold, hollow vessel of numbness. You could faintly recollect words like ‘happiness’, ‘comfort’, ‘joy’, ‘love’ these so-called ‘emotions’ that used to mean something to you, if only you could recall what they meant. Not that you cared. You were incapable of caring about anything now. The nothingness within you being the only sense you could grasp. 

What was it like, to feel? It sounds awfully draining. Such a vulnerability that’s exposed to the world is very easy to exploit. You must’ve been in so much pain, being so unprotected. But you’re different now.

You look at the shattered mirror in front of you. A lifeless doll drenched in running obsidian stares back.

Distantly, you hear ink dripping onto the floor

Huic ergo parce Deus Pie Jesu, Jesu Domine Dona eis requiem Dona eis requiem Amen

[gaiaseyes451]

Of Kings and Kids - A Good Omens Christmas Story

I'm super excited to announce that Chapter 1 of Of Kings and Kids is officially live on AO3! This is a collaboration with the incredibly talented @vavoom-sorted-art. We will release one chapter a day until all five chapters are available - the last release will be on 26-Dec.

Head to AO3 for the full Chapter AND additional, gorgeous illustrations!

An Excerpt:

----

Aziraphale stood at the town’s well, clay cup in hand, and drank, grateful for the cool water. While the journey from Nazareth hadn’t been particularly arduous, the angel was happy for an opportunity to rest after traversing the loamy, rolling hills; especially after guiding a flock of sheep and goats for the last five days. Michael had assured him, when she was briefing him on the Mission Messiah assignment, that Heaven had an alias prepared this time. Somehow, Silas the shepherd who was leading his flock of bovids to Bethlehem for the autumn livestock auction was not precisely the backstory Aziraphale had expected. Nevermind that Bethlehem had never held a livestock auction before, best not to question these things.

Bethlehem was built around the town’s well which stood in the center of a courtyard. Most inns and lodging houses surrounded the well while private residences were scattered among the slopes. The city was surrounded by a modest wall with roads granting access from the North and South. The land itself was lovely rolling hills with lush grasslands and natural grottos, perfect for grazing livestock. It would have been conspicuous if a shepherd had moved at the same pace as a woman who was about to give birth, so Aziraphale had arrived ahead of the holy family. He was glad for the chance to get acquainted with the town and for the brief respite before the real work started.

Preparing for the arrival of the Messiah really was quite stressful.

Having filled his waterskin, Aziraphale was about to head off to one of the rest houses to sample the local cuisine when a familiar voice called out.

“Hello, angel!”

Aziraphale stopped short. While he was always happy to see this particular demon on his assignments, having him this close to the savior’s birth was a tad disconcerting. He turned and greeted him warmly, even if his smile was a bit cautious. “Crawly! Hello.”

“Ah, actually, call me Crowley.” He said, casually.

“Oh, have you changed your name?” Aziraphale asked.

“Nah, not officially. Just tryin’ it out for a bit. ‘Sides, little odd to have a nobleman called ‘Crawly’.” He said, gesturing to himself.

Aziraphale took a moment to take in Crowley’s garb.The demon was wearing his hair a bit longer, russet waves held out of his eyes by a beaded headband. He was clothed in his preferred hues in a deep charcoal robe and cloak made from fine linen with patterns embroidered in red at the neckline and hem. The cloak was fastened at the shoulder with an onyx snake broach and synched at the waist with a burgundy leather belt with a serpentine fastener. The robe drew his eyes down to strappy sandals that accentuated Crowley’s calves. His wrists were adorned with wide, silver cuffs that emphasized his svelte arms and long fingers.

Aziraphale dragged his eyes back to Crowley’s face and attempted to make eye contact through the dark lenses. “Well, hello, Crowley. What brings you to Bethlehem?”

----

A warm thanks to @goodomensafterdark for the support on this project with thanks also to @sohoscribblers

[fellshish]

Hey good omens crowd do you know about this fallen angel / snake crawling up leg look by onyx (insta link) from drag race españa. i just think. if crowley did drag —