#painful divorce if you will

[jokeconic]

Ms Venable? Cordelia Goode? Alice Macray? Nurse Ratched? Ellie Staple? Haven’t heard that name in years

[tampire]

"We could have been us."

[rainbowstickersandunicorn]

watching this feels like I went through 10 divorces

[royaltea000]

[wipinf] thinking bout that one part in jttw96 where nezha and hong hai er fight in a dream

[actual-changeling]

no but after seeing crowley and aziraphale so utterly relaxed and comfortable around each other, walking, sitting, talking closely together, touching, aziraphale no longer having his hands behind his back, just imagine how fucking painful it will be to get an entirely new kind of distance between them in season 3.

they never stayed far apart, not even in eden, not after their fights, never.

aziraphale returns to earth and for every step he takes towards crowley, both emotionally and physically, crowley takes one back.

don't touch me, is never said out loud, yet it's there all the same, written in the air between them.

don't touch me, because it hurts, because it reminds me of what we lost, because it's never going to be enough.

don't touch me, because i will cave, i will fall back into your arms, and cling and cling and cling, until you leave me again.

don't touch me, because if you do, i will take your hand, fall to my knees, and beg you to run away with me again again again. i will ask and you will decline, and we will both hate me for voicing the question in the first place; that is how we began and that is how we ended, how we will always end.

now it is crowley who keeps his hands in his pockets, behind his back, leaning away form aziraphale whenever they get too close, turning his head and fleeing into the cracks in his mind no one except himself can get into.

for centuries, crowley came back to him. every. single. time. it was him who returned, who grovelled, who apologized, who bottled up his anger and hurt and disappointment so he could throw himself between aziraphale and whatever danger they were facing.

he can't do it again, don't touch me, because this time he would sacrifice himself completely and give his entire existence for him, or whatever is left of it, anyway.

don't touch me, he prays, the same three words over and over. please, stay away, don't come closer, don't love me, not now, not after everything.

don't touch me, when all he wants is to open his arms and disappear into the embrace of the only real home he has ever known.

i love you don't touch me

[jazzy-mass]

My friend that got me to watch X-men ‘97 described all of x-men as “two gays break up and make it everyone’s problem” and honestly? Yeah. Yeah that about sums it up.

[pain-is-too-tired]

Lee: You treat an outside wound with rubbing alcohol. You treat an inside wound with drinking alcohol.

Travis:It's this cause Luke called you crying again?

Lee: He's upset he lost custody of Chris. Gods, Iris needs to add a block feature.

Michael: I still think killing him's easier, but hey, he's your ex.

[bonnisbon]

The way they look at each other when MK mentions friendship and not abandoning friends.

I am sure they both had the same flashback/memory... the 'arguing in the mountain' scene.

Macaque wanted to help Wukong, but Wukong became too obsessive with his goal, and that lent him to his demise. Future Macaque has the same pattern as past Wukong. They got reverse carted.

Wukong wanted to help his friends. He wanted to protect them, but that protection became harmful for him and others.

Macaque wanted to stop him in the past because he was becoming harmful, and now, in the future, he ends up being the one who harms for revenge.

Macaque is questioning himself and his actions in this scene after seeing all what happened, which is why he helps the team in the end (and because he wants to make amends)

---------------

I am sorry if this doesn't make sense at all 💀

[add1ctedt0you]

Canonically speaking, jc' reaction to someone he doesn't like/has strong negative feelings towards, because that person was a jerk to his sister, is to regulate his emotions according to how his sister feels. In a jyl lives au, after wwx's return, canon jc is going to his sister, saying something like: 'while I think we should throw at least a cup of tea at him because he left us you and a-ling like that, it's your choice, jin zixuan was your husband. What are we feeling now, jiejie?'

[atticollateral]

Ok good omens final 15 rant because I NEED to get it out of me before I bombard my family with my annoying ass.

That fucking kiss was the kind that stole EVERYTHING and gave NOTHING in return. I know that kind of kiss. It's disgusting and desperate and awful and selfish and that's what makes it GOOD, do you hear me?! IT'S SUPPOSED TO FEEL WRETCHED. IT'S SUPPOSED TO RIP OUT YOUR HEART. HE'S RIPPING OUT AZIRAPHALE'S. DO YOU HEAR ME. ARE YOU LISTENING--

DO YOU SEE AZIRAPHALE AFTER. HE LOOKS HEARTBROKEN. CONFUSED. DISTRESSED. HURT. DISGUSTED- maybe not with Crowley but most assuredly with himself, most likely. IT'S PERFECT. Good God can you hear me SHOUTING???

Crowley is taking what he wishes that he had from Aziraphale, what he wants to share with him, wildly grasping onto his desperate need for connection, he's fucking hungry and flailing and grasping at straws DID YOU EVEN SEE HOW HE GRABBED HIS COLLAR. HE'S GRABBING HIM LIKE HE'S THE LAST THING ON EARTH LIKE HE'S THE ONLY THING IN THE UNIVERSE AND FRANKLY TO HIM HE IS!!! HE IS

And Aziraphale is left stammering and broken and hurt after he doesn't know what to do or say so he just spits out "I forgive you" BECAUSE HE KNOWSSS

And the music just accentuates it it's AWFUL and LOUD and INTENSE and MELANCHOLY. it shatters your very soul and it's fucking horrible. I will never stop crying. Ever. It hurts so badly. I'm smacking my hands together for emphasis.

I can feel that tightening knot in my chest, the kind you feel when you're desperate and feel like you're falling and you can't catch yourself. This isn't even a euphemism it's actually real and a feeling I know all too well. It's a dark ever growing pit that's gnawing and clawing at you. You're losing your battle & everything is going wrong for you & your whole world is collapsing around you. I felt that soul crushing pain. That's how you know the writing and acting is good because you can actually FEEL how the characters are feeling in yourself. It's fucking immaculate. I love good omens.

[nostalgia-is-liar]

[ooggie-boogie-man]

I have been so hyperfixated on x-men (the james mcavoy and Michael fassbender ones) and I’m so rahhhhh, I love the other x-men and everyone who comes in in the other movies but first class has my heart

[xxplastic-cubexx]

do u think either charles or erik had trouble coming to terms with their love for one another?? like religious guilt, internalized homophobia, etc.

Many such cases really … not hard to imagine them dealin with that …

[mangora]

Taps mic. Gidgette should’ve broken up. Their relationship in the Aftermaths was clearly not healthy and not in a way that was enjoyable to watch. It clearly made everyone including them uncomfortable. I think it would’ve been good for Geoff and Bridgette to separately gain self awareness and grow as people. They both need to date around. They reek of high school sweethearts destined to go through a nasty divorce in a few years after enduring a miserable joint living situation where neither of them communicate effectively because both are afraid of change but also not afraid enough of confrontation to avoid passive aggressive conflict. I am so serious I think being bisexual in college would fix so many of their problems.

[actual-changeling]

Uh. Hi! I'm Alex and I love writing pain.

I've seen the angst war going on and I am incredibly tempted to contribute; I'm not quite sure of the rules (if there are any) so feel free to bring me up to speed. Updates will be at whatever pace is fun/doable for me, interactions, asks etc. always very much appreciated 💚

@goodomensafterdark @daneecastle @gleafer @gahellhimself-blog @vavoom-sorted-art @kotias

I will put appropriate content tags on every chapter and make a masterpost once I have a handful of posts. Please keep in mind that this series is going to deal with a heavy dose of unreality, self-injurious behaviour, substance abuse, erratic behaviour/mood swings, and more. There will be a happy ending.

Now, without further ado, the first instalment of what is going to be us following Crowley down the path of (hopefully temporary) insanity.

rest your head \\ chapter 1

(~800 w, no additional warnings)

Sleep deprivation, while usually not fatal, is not the least bit pleasant. Human brains require sleep to function—and not just their minds, either. The entire body breaks down oh so slowly as every system designed to keep it alive deteriorates without the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.

However, the actual cause of death is yet to be identified, and luckily Crowley's corporation functions on the principle of 'what it doesn't know won't kill it'.

Over the centuries, earthly indulgences have become more and more common, pleasures easily sought and found no matter where he went, although nothing ever beat a good night's (or decade's) rest. Sleep calms his mind and allows him to drift through time without a care, surrounded by ever-shifting dream clouds and the occasional vivid interference. In short, it takes away the pain, and Someone knows there is a lot to carry when he returns home for the first time in four years.

No dust had dared to settle on the furniture, and the familiar smell of damp earth welcomes him. Locking the door behind him, Crowley blindly finds his way through the corridors, kicking off his shoes as he goes and throwing his glasses onto the nearest surface. When he pushes into his bedroom, which is just as pristine as he had left it, the anger churning in his gut cools.

Home. Has he ever had a home? Once upon a time, maybe, before time had been born, surrounded by breathing nebulae and void, and then—

Eden. Him. Right, that's done.

A snap of his fingers and his clothes change into a set of silk pyjamas, the fabric brushing over his skin like liquid silver, and the black-out curtains snap shut. Darkvision is one of the advantages of being a demon, but he finds the dark has nothing to offer him today, so he closes his eyes and pulls back the sheets to curl around a pillow.

Images flicker in the pulsating emptiness left behind, piercing blue eyes and fluttering hands, a press of lips against his, words digging into his skull like tadpoles making a home within his brain matter. Electricity crawls over his slowly numbing body, urging him to disappear, to sink into nothingness and waste away until he is a dried stain on the mattress. 

No one will come looking for him, after all.

Maybe the world will be brighter once he wakes, the pain duller, the loneliness less aching and all-consuming. Within his chest bleeds a hollow, jagged wound, dripping black blood and drowning the radiant remnants of Aziraphale's presence; his essence is familiar, it's- home. 

Crowley does not need to sleep, yet somewhere between Rome and the present, he had forgotten about it, his corporation shifting and changing, craving rest and punishing him for its absence. It will not kill him, it does not even occur to him that it might, but there are countless fates worth than death and he is already living one of them. What's another added to the mess his life has become?

His nails dig into the pillow case, his consciousness choking on the scorched battlefield of the day, but no matter how hard he tries, how desperately he commands his body to bend to his wills, sleep refuses to come. A new, different kind of pain rises, worse than fatigue and infinitely more addictive. Its sting is battery acid on his tongue, infusing him with a restlessness that is scratching on his bones, and when blue irises keep mocking him behind closed lids, he forces his eyes open, turns onto his back, and stares at the ceiling, waiting.

Light wanders and shifts, barely visible through the heavy fabric adorning his windows, and it dips behind the horizon before reappearing on the other side. Crowley stares at white paint and counts the moving dots gradually clouding his vision, absently pressing his knuckles against his sternum over and over—whether to calm himself or to chase away mental pain with physical is beyond his awareness. 

Both, neither, maybe. 

His too-human body protests and whines, and once he begins to see blue shadows in his periphery, Crowley bites his tongue and gets up. Coffee will help, then a hot shower, and yelling his plants back into order is going to occupy most of his afternoon anyway, so what's a night without sleep?

The next one will bring him the rest he needs, and Aziraphale's eyes will stop striking him down whenever he blinks. He is alone now (alone in London, alone on earth, his chest constricts and twists at the thought, stealing his breath) and he will have to get used to it; it'll be fine eventually, right?

—

Three days later Crowley is staring at his bedroom ceiling, impatient, restless, exhausted, and attempting to chase away the bone-white teeth hovering underneath lightning-blue eyes.

"Fine, have it your way," he snaps eventually, his voice too loud in an empty room, and feels the smile breathing down his neck all the way to the kitchen.

[a-lilac-lyric]

Wow! If I had a nickel for every time [there was a Disney married couple who looked like they were going to be a villain couple but then actually turned out to be a couple where one is way more self centered and power hungry than the other and starts to distrust their partner, who realized that love is more valuable than power, to the point of threatening them, then later shooting them with evil magic], I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.