[blindsite]

#BLINDSITE : a study in morality as a grayscale and balance within justice and chaos. 

affiliated with : @embalmic's laura moon

ooc. prompts. muse tag masterpost.

[blindsite]

crowle.y with black fingernail polish? i've been thinking about it and i think it's true.

[fellandfeathers]

THE BOY WAS SHAPING UP TO BE TERRIBLE: but terrible in the way children ought to be. Demanding. Expectant. Eager. Oh, and quite unbecomingly rude at times. Warlock had received many a lecture from Brother Francis regarding the proper manner in which to speak to Mrs Dowling! All of which often culminated in an unflattering insult toward the gardener.

But no matter how many times Aziraphale had to tell the young antichrist "look, don't touch!" about the tender petals of the garden, so far, as it seems: he's far from evil. MERELY SPOILED. Which, to some, might be considered the same thing. But in the context of the impending apocalypse, it was as good as one could expect.

The waiter had just placed a delectable shank of braised lamb upon the table, and Aziraphale flattens the cloth napkin upon his lap in preparation of such a worthy meal.

Fork and knife in hand, he nods in agreement. ❝ All things considered, he appears to be quite normal for his age and... um, size. ❞

Blade meets meat as he carves out a perfectly portioned bite.

❝ Though, I do wish he would be kinder to his mother. She, is, well... ❞ He stares off for a moment, mind grappling for the right words in which to encapsulate his employer. ❝ Well, SHE'S HIS MOTHER! Why, just the other day, he asked if she was wearing makeup, and upon her confirmation, he replied: You need more. ❞

Aziraphale indulges in that anticipated bite, and the son of the devil is all but forgotten for an entire two and a half seconds.

[blindsite]

concealed behind glasses, dark pupils watch the angel perform the ritual of consuming his food. always the same : napkin in its place, utensils held correctly and delicately, and approaching whatever item it was with tact. in this case, something that looked quite mouth-watering.

he averts his gaze to the bottle of wine which he uses to top off their glasses. his own far more drained than the other. ❝ normal, yes. do you know what? sometimes i wonder if not — if not too normal. don't you? ❞ the question with hesitation revealed that he only dared to ask only because of his present company. the switcheroo with the chattering order had seemingly gone off without a hitch, but the one nun hadn't come off as too bright.

listening to aziraphale's complaints, he can't help but snort at the boy's attitude. he quickly composes himself lest he receive a look of great disapproval from his companion. ❝ he knows better than to say those things about me. now that i think about it, he does look at me oddly every once and a while as though my female form isn't up to snuff. i quite liked my work. the hair is really dita von teese, if i say so myself. ❞ the angel knows him well enough to know that he was pouting. fishing for a compliment, perhaps. just because he didn't like the stockings didn't mean he couldn't find some enjoyment of taking a rare version of his corporeal form.

[videsnoir]

MUCH  AS  SHE'D  LIKE  TO  DENY  THE  WOLF  BENEATH  HER  SKIN,  the  moon  comforts  her  bones  on  wearier  nights.  evenings  she'd  rather  wear  a  scowl  than  anything  else,  biting  at  the  head  and  heels  of  anyone  trying  to  make  nice,  and  yet  here  she  was,  out  on  a  complete  limb.  and  caught  staring,  the  thing  she  loathed  most  about  people,  she  was  drawn  in  slowly,  more  slowly,  to  look  up.  ❛ i'm  not  very  polite.  ❜  her  skin  doesn't  reflect  the  sudden  wash  of  nerves,  but  her  smile  stretched  upward,  parted  with  a  chuff  of  laughter  when  she  watched  a  fry  get  snatched  up.  ❛ see,  we  can  call  it  even  now  because  you  just  committed  an  egregious  crime.   ❜  oh,  but  marnie  would  let  it  slide  more  than  a  few  times,  to  be  truthful.  it's  good  to  feel  a  spark  of  anything,  AND  THIS  ONE  SITS  LOW  AND  WARM  IN  HER  BELLY,  FLUTTERING.  ❛  it's  good.  i  used  to  bring  my  little  sister  here  sometimes,  so  we've  made  our  way  through  the  menu.  ❜  she  wants  to  know  so  much  more  about  stevie.  this  kind  of  sentiment  hadn't  taken  root  in  her  soul  for  god  knows  how  long,  and  that  old  fuck  wasn't  listening  either  way.  ❛   but  i  actually  thought  you'd  be  more  of  a  waffle  kind  of  woman.   ❜

[blindsite]

at the other's quick witted response, stevie would never have guessed she was feeling any nervousness. ❝ that may be true, but you are honest. points for that. ❞ still smiling as she eats the stolen fry. only then does the smile fade enough to not chew with her mouth open. once done, stevie's head cocks to the side with curiosity. ❝ you're an older sister then. makes sense. you give off this — ❞ searching for the words, there's a pause as she studies marnie's face. ❝ real inner strength. like you're a very strong person. ❞ the blush creeps from her ears to the apples of her cheeks. she just read a person she barely knows and feels a bit embarrassed to have said it out loud. but, she isn't given long to sit in that feeling before an involuntary laugh leaves her. it's quiet, low in her throat, yet still full of amusement. ❝ you thought right. ❞ the double entendre doesn't escape her even if that isn't what marnie meant. maybe, it would clear up any confusion in her interest.

[legendarymalesludgevoid]

Distance is a scam- it's my legal right to kiss him all over his face and insist we hold hands everywhere we walk. who can i sue.

[blindsite]

@wampirszy said : " you don't have to pretend with me. "

upon his acquaintances frankness, the demon's mouth open and shut once before he sighed shortly. not irritation as much as acceptance. ❝ very well then. ❞ a hand reached for his small, round spectacles and pulled them off. eyes averted only long enough to tuck them safely into a pocket within his ornate black doublet. golden gaze flickered back to the other man and chin rose so the street lamp cast over his face more so than before. ❝ now that that is out of the way. what can i do for you? ❞

he didn't plan to address it because the answer was pretty clear to him. just breeze right over. the other was most likely nonhuman as well and who would want to discuss that in broad — well, not daylight, but certainly with too many people milling about. toussaint never slept. crowley liked that. always a place open and serving some of the best wine he'd had in ages.

[videsnoir]

FINE-TUNED  TO  EVERY  LITTLE  BUMP  AND  CREAK  THE  LAND  MADE,  it  doesn't  take  much  to  stir  her.  the  mustang  wanders  where  he  pleases.  that  was  part  of  their  unspoken  bargain,  and  she  knew  that  beast  inside  and  out,  his  ornery,  wounded  soul  and  all.  but  that  sound  dragged  instinct  from  every  muscle  and  bone:  the  thud  of  hooves  and  the  explosive  whinny  of  a  horse  in  distress  or  mortally  offended.  gloria  was  out  the  door  before  her  brain  caught  up,  shotgun  snatched  from  the  wall.  boots  tread  across  the  weathered  porch  boards  as  she  jogged  toward  the  pasture,  HER  HEART  ALREADY  HALFWAY  TO  WORST-CASE  SCENARIO. 

instead,  she  found  rico  standing  with  his  ears  forward  and  his  expression  suspiciously  pleased  with  himself.  and  near  him,  a  man  in  the  green  and  loam.  HONEY  EYES  SURVEY.  the  picture  assembled  all  on  its  own—the  open  gate,  the  stranger,  four-legged  asshole  tapping  his  hoof  and  snorting  like  he's  howling  in  laughter.  her  mouth  twitched,  parted,  and  scoffed.   ❛  yeah,  well,  i  think  he  got  you  this  far  just  to  do  that.  ❜ 

the  shotgun  lowered,  and  something  strange  tugs  at  her  psyche.  some  oddity,  surely,  recognition  with  no  roots  to  hold,  ancient  and  fleeting  as  a  song  she  couldn't  recall  the  melody  of.  this  man  was  a  stranger;  of  that  she  knew  with  absolute  certainty.  gloria  could  still  feel  the  thread  tug  beneath  her  ribs,  pulling  open  scars  unseen,  and  it  was  gone  before  she  could  name  it.  all  that  remains  is  the  faintest  crease  knit  between  her  brows.  a  slow,  dry  chuckle.  ❛  worst  fucking  horse  BORROWER   i've  ever  seen.  ❜ she  extends  a  hand  to  the  would-be  thief.  ❛  c'mon.  before  he  decides  he's  got  another  lesson  to  teach  you.  might  as  well  look  you  over  before  i  kick  your  ass  to  the  curb.  ❜ 

[blindsite]

he huffed at the animal and woman's combined laughter at his expense. the sun shone brilliantly behind the woman as it was beginning to set and he'd yet to clearly see her face. eyes were too busy flickering between the end of the barrel and the trigger. sweeney had been shot at enough recently that he knew no luck would save him if she aimed true and had the safety off. ❝ aye, right he did. havin' the time of his fuckin' life over there. ❞ olive eyes rolled as he laid back in the grass and accepted his fate.

but, as luck would have it, something he thought didn't exist around him anymore, the gun lowered. as though a string was attached from his head to the barrel, he rose up to sitting position at the same time. ❝ yeah, i'm about the worst anythin' right now, so i'm not surprised. ❞ the tanned palm extended to him and he eyed it warily before accepting it. using his other arm as leverage to push up off his knee, the both of them got him standing. he dusted the ass of his jeans off and then looked down at her as she stood closer to him now. ❝ yer bein' awfully nice. is it pity because of my failed thievery? ❞

suddenly, as he glanced over the features of her face and landed upon her eyes again, he was struck with recognition. but it couldn't be. sweeney actively chose not to get his hopes up. ❝ sweeney maccoleman, they call me mad sweeney. ❞ hand was offered to her this time as a gesture of good will and greeting. he hoped in touching her one more time, he'd know for sure so he could be rid of the whole business. his life was already complicated enough without wondering if she was his glóir na maidne. it would only drive him deeper into madness.

[aenslem]

Anna Torv & Lauren Glazier in Mindhunter (2017–2019)

[blindsite]

@videsnoir was caught [10.] finding herself staring at stevie's mouth.

the diner had excellent pancakes and bacon — by a tipsy person's standards. she felt the syrup on her lower lip before the other said anything, and yet marnie was looking. thumb swipes and is drawn between her lips to clean it. a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as her thumb withdraws. the tips of her ears pinken as she speaks, ❝ i think it's polite tell someone if they have food on their mouth not stare at it. i'm embarrassed now, so thank you. ❞ there's no malice in her voice, just a playful lilt. she reaches for the cup of coffee and takes a sip. sobering up some was her main priority. a little bit of buzz could remain, but nothing more. ❝ how's yours? ❞ eyes break from holding marnie's gaze and sweep down her face to her mountain of fries and gravy. she doesn't know her companion very well and still, she dares to snatch a fry from where it stuck out on the edge of her plate. maybe the ease of their conversation emboldened her. or maybe she didn't care if it got her into some kind of trouble with the other. it wouldn't be very serious and she found she liked taunting her.

[blindsite]

@azafell plotted !

in the near year it had been since their last conversation ( if one could call it that ) crowley had spent it in a few different states : angry, so angry he wanted to tear the shelves down in the bookshop and chuck all of the books into the street to be taken, ran over, pissed on, whatever else. he wouldn't have cared ( yes, he would have and so he'd never have actually done it ). horribly sad, depressed one could even say. and a moment or two of self pity and loathing thrown in here and there. but, with no idea of what to say and no way to contact the angel, he stayed in his own lane.

once the mood swings calmed enough that he could look at the ' A.Z. Fell and Co. ' sign without grinding his teeth so hard that he brought tears to his well-hidden eyes, he started mulling on some ideas. ideas just in case aziraphale didn't want to be in heaven running things anymore. alpha centauri had been offered twice now with little success so he struck that off the list. maybe they could visit some day, if the angel ever forgave him. if he ever apologized. but that wasn't what he was thinking of now. no, he was thinking of what gabriel and beelzebub had started. a truce, a stasis of sorts, a 'live and let live' type of motto. it would take a lot of work, which he was loathe to think of having to do anything with any other demon or angel other than his own.

he sat doing all this in his bentley a safe couple of blocks away from the bookshop. nina and maggie would talk of how sweet he was to be keeping an eye on the place while mr. fell was gone. and how right they would be that that was exactly what he was doing. in the seat beside him and crumpled up in the back were pages of furious scribbling, holes ripped through in places where he had crossed something out so vehemently that the paper couldn't stand the force of it anymore. balls of paper were amongst a few bottles of wine and one of liquor. he may have drank excessively in the beginning.

suddenly, there was a shift in the air. crowley's spine straightened like a rod of lightning struck him at his top vertebra and exited his tailbone. sure enough, in the distance, there was a familiar figure in white standing in the street near the bookshop. as if he could be heard, or seen very well at all for that matter, he cleared his throat and continued his work with head dipped low. if aziraphale were looking for him, he'd certainly have spotted the car and would come closer. the demon wouldn't make a move for now.

[blindsite]

I was reading this post last night about crowle.y's behavior towards azir.aphale in the end of 2.6 and the finale movie being almost justified (wrongly) by fans bc "the angel didnt pick him and that's selfish and hurtful."

I agree with the person who was saying that azir.aphale is one of the least selfish people in the show. and that crowley's actions were more selfish to choose his desires over humanity. it's extremely difficult to reckon with being part of a grand scheme or plan whenever you want to follow your heart. and because of that i think crowle.y's feelings are entirely valid. my only wish it that he could express himself better instead of the "all or nothing" viewpoint he takes. he can feel hurt, angry, disappointed, behave recklessly, be depressed, say things he doesn't mean, etc but ultimately he knows the angel he fell for would never give up on the humanity they BOTH love so much.

I would love to explore some divergence where he decides to do his part helping azira.phale solve the issue of the second coming instead of choosing humanity over them being together as angel and demon (like in the finale). a fanfic my friend recommended me (that i havent finished yet), had them searching for the books of life and death so no one could use or harm the books as well as still trying to stop the second coming.

but also, maybe the idea gabriel and beelzebub had of keeping the status quo. why couldn't the earth just keep spinning as it had? idk man anything other than not getting to be together as themselves, angel and demon.

[blindsite]

new carrd in the pinned! not complete at all, but better laid out imo. the only complaint i have is no cute graphic elements, but maybe i can figure out how to add one or two

[blindsite]

mun vs muse. ft. crowley! everyone else under the cut!

[blindsite]

there are a lot of theories out there about who crowl.ey was before he fell. some say the archangel raphael. but personally i'm leaning towards the kokabiel, angel of the stars, "star of god". the fourth one mentioned as one of the 20 watchers of the fallen angels. also a fallen angel. i don't think it matters too much in the grand scheme of things, but it is interesting to think about. kokabiel is a high ranking angel.

baraquiel is an interesting choice too and would make sense why crowle.y has been seen controlling the weather and lighting. i guess i have come to no conclusions in this post, but only more questions. still into the headcanon tag it goes until i decide.

[skippysy]

Had to be quick to make fun of crowley's hair

[blindsite-a]

so, while sweeney is known as buile suibhne and "mad sweeney", if someone ever takes the initiative to not call him that at all or slowly just transitions into calling him only sweeney... he does notice. does he care that people call him mad? not anymore. but, it is a major green flag to him if someone chooses not to. he will never really admit this, though, at least not until he gets to know the person better.

[blindsite-a]

hi, i know no one asked but since it was in the late 500s-early 600s that sweeney was born, he doesn't know his birthday except that it was in the beginning of spring! soooo, he just celebrates his birthday (only if someone insists on him celebrating it bc he doesn't really find as much joy in it anymore since it's been 1500 years ish) in late march-mid april. he's an aries through and through hehe