#also barely

[pumpkin-mines]

stuff from between artfights

[tofixtheshadows]

Hi, one of my favorite minor things in Dungeon Meshi is the way that Ryoko Kui draws the characters when they are very small. Here's a collage of some of my favorite examples of little guys in the background (enlarge for better quality). Enjoy.

[flyingbuddiies]

bunch of doodles again!! some of these are kind of old oops

roleswap au designs and concept by @whipedcream <3

[azures-grace]

I love edith

@reverieveil youre guy <3

[snailtowne]

doodle page (mostly ocs plus a few assorted phreaks)

[robinwithay]

robyn's top/bottom/sub/dom azicrow analysis or Nobody Asked: The Post

so. i think it makes the most sense, thematically, for Aziraphale to be a sub(ish) bottom, and Crowley to be a dom(ish, service) top.

a bold claim, perhaps, i grant you. hear me out.

i'm gonna start by saying that ultimately, i think they are both very capable of switching - i just believe they also both have strong preferences. also that this is just my opinion, and i'm not trying to attack anyone in particular or piss anybody off by making this post. i'm writing it for fun, feel free to ignore it.

let's get something straight, shall we? top, bottom, dom and sub have NOTHING to do with the way that you look or move. nothing. zip. zilch. nada.

being a top, a bottom, a dom or a sub, and indeed the ability to switch between and combine any of those, are all in your personality and dynamic(s) with your sexual partner(s), and even sometimes whether you are physically able to take a particular role. your body type and look can contribute to those dynamics if you participate in certain gay subcultures, but even then, it isn't exactly set in stone.

there are implications to topping/bottoming in terms of angel and demon characters specifically, i think. there is duality in both; topping can be seen as dominating, subjugating and taking, but it can also be a selfless act of service, of giving, even of worship. bottoming, likewise, can be seen as lazy and self-indulgent, letting the focus be on you and your pleasure, or it can be seen as passive and innocent, an inactive role. it's probably worth mentioning that it's usually in cishet sex that topping is seen as taking and bottoming is seen as passive, and the opposite in queer sex. obviously, A+C are undeniably queer as fuck, no matter your headcanons.

considering Aziraphale and Crowley's characterizations, where they generally align with what you expect of an angel and a demon but also rebel against those expectations in their own way - Aziraphale being a hedonist, bastard angel and Crowley being a kind, moral demon - i think it fits best for Crowley to be the selfless one, and Aziraphale to be the one indulged. this is also what we're shown is their dynamic canonically, as well.

Aziraphale likes to be rescued, Crowley likes to be his rescuer. Aziraphale passes over the opportunity to do something good and selfless, something that a demon would otherwise have no reason to do, to Crowley every time he gets himself in trouble, and how intentional that is is another discussion entirely. he loves to be the damsel in distress, and we have no idea how long that's been going on, really - how long he might have been doing that just for an excuse to see Crowley before realizing that Crowley liked it, too. that's getting into the weeds of speculation a little bit, but based on what we see in the show, the fact remains that Aziraphale indulges Crowley in his fantasy of being a protector while he is vulnerable and swooning.

i have no doubts whatsoever that Aziraphale is actually capable of rescuing himself, but that's not the point - it's one of their rituals. it's a scene. Aziraphale textually acknowledges the fact that he likes to be taken care of, and that he knows Crowley likes to take care of him, in S2E5 - "rescuing me makes him so happy!"

we all agree he's Anthony J. "Acts of Service" Crowley, right? why would that not translate to the bedroom?

i think this also relates to their respective purposes given by Heaven and Hell. we know Aziraphale is made as a guardian, a warrior, a fighter with a flaming sword. as an angel, Crowley is a creator, a studious inventor, and then as a demon, he is the tempter, a sssneaky sssnake who uses words and manipulation; someone who uses brains over brawn, either way.

in their relationship, Crowley and Aziraphale allow one another to shed these given roles and embrace the opposite of their purpose. Aziraphale was MADE to fight, it's what Heaven expects of him (he's expected to fight in the war at Armageddon, after all) but he's...soft. he gave away his sword out of selflessness and refuses to fight in the war, openly dislikes conflict, violence and tbf, exercise as well. Gabriel calls him soft in s1 and appears to be referring to his physicality; regardless of the fact that an angel probably shouldn't particularly understand or care about human beauty standards, Aziraphale seems to feel some guilt about the fact he's soft, both physically and mentally. it's not what he was built for, but he also clearly likes the way he is - he could change it, but he doesn't. he likes to be soft, a creature of comfort. it just doesn't gel with what Heaven made him for.

(as an aside, i think this is part of the reason that the widely-accepted headcanon that Aziraphale is secretly very fit and buff bothers me, personally.)

but because Crowley loves him, it's alright. Crowley in his role as protector takes the responsibility of being that strong warrior Aziraphale is supposed to be away from him, says "it's okay that you're not what Heaven made you for, you don't have to be. i'll do it for you." and in return, Aziraphale allows Crowley to be something a demon is not supposed to be - a hero of the story, a saviour. Aziraphale IS fiercely protective of others, still, especially humans, so this is arguably also Crowley saying "you protect everyone else, but who's protecting you?"

Crowley isn't physically strong either, but he doesn't have to be to protect Aziraphale. Aziraphale clearly has so much faith in Crowley's ability to think and talk his way around a problem, to put those devilish smarts to good use. again, in S2E5, he says "Crowley will be back in a moment, he will have a plan."

this swapping of roles, to me, supports the idea that they would also swap roles when it comes to sex. Aziraphale is indulged, Crowley indulges him.

i think fandoms have a problem - well okay, they have a lot of problems actually - but the problem HERE is the knee-jerk reaction that expectations MUST be subverted.

sometimes expectations don't need to be subverted, sometimes tropes exist for a reason. it can in some cases even be actively unhelpful, disregard authorial intent and clear characterization to attempt to subvert tropes via headcanon. i see this issue A LOT as a masculine lesbian; masculine sapphic characters are often softened and feminized ("they secretly love makeup and fem things") by fandom because it makes them more palatable, under the guise of subverting expectations. that's not to say that there aren't masculine sapphics who do like traditionally feminine things, of course there are, but when i see it happen repeatedly to masculine sapphic characters, it starts to form a disconcerting pattern. there is nothing wrong with masculine sapphics who like feminine things - i am one myself - but nor is there anything wrong with masculine sapphics who fulfill every stereotype and expectation in the book.

i, unfortunately, often find myself thinking the same thing about Aziraphale and Crowley. don't get me wrong, the GO fandom is very different from others i've been in, and a lot of the fluid gender representation i see in the fancontent here is absolutely wonderful. unfortunately, i do still feel like i see a lot of railing against the idea that Aziraphale is how he is portrayed in canon; a soft, fat, feminine, perhaps sometimes borderline stereotypical pansy-esque gay man(-shaped being) who traditionally would also be assumed to bottom and/or sub, and force him to fit headcanons that frankly don't seem in-character at all or defy what we are shown to be the truth in canon, all in the name of subverting expectations.

i could honestly say more but i fear what i've said already is confusing enough so i'll stop there. if you get it, you get it, i guess, and please remember that i'm not trying to upset anybody here. i sort of half-joked about making this post and a couple people actually showed interest in reading it, so i wrote it!

don't even get me started on how i think Aziraphale is a brat, i have the receipts

anyways, i'll leave you with the Word Of Sheen;

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Oh, hey, Shi — woah, you’re bleeding!”

Shiro stops in his tracks, turning around to face his concerned teammate.

“Hey, Lance,” he greets, flashing a small smile. Lance doesn’t look at him, instead looking intently at the various cuts and bruises on his arm.

“Training,” Shiro explains. “Trying a new level, it was harder than I thought. I got beat up a little. I’m fine, though, don’t worry.”

Lance squints at him. “But you’re still bleeding! And it looks like it stings!”

Shiro shrugs, ignoring the small stab of pain from the deepest wound on his shoulder. “I’m okay.”

Lance sees right through his shrug, shaking his head and tutting (looking just like Coran, Shiro notes with amusement). He walks quickly over to Shiro and grabs him gently on the elbow of his prosthetic, guiding him carefully back down the hallway.

“Nope, nuh-uh. No avoiding medical care for you. Goodness, how do you lecture Keith when you’re just as bad?”

Shiro’s lip quirk up again. “I’m not as bad as Keith. Also, I’m his older brother. The rules of hypocrisy don’t apply to me.”

“You sound like Luis,” Lance says, snorting. “All older brothers are the same. Anyways, you’re not getting out of it! I have a first aid kit in my room and it’s closer than the MedBay, we’ll get you fixed up there.”

Shiro considers arguing more, considers refusing. None of his injuries are life-threatening, after all, and he has things to do.

But he can’t remember the last time he hung out one-on-one with Lance, if he’s done so at all. He can’t remember the last time Lance joked and played with him like he was an equal, a friend, rather than a hero to be worshipped. He’s not even sure if they are friends.

Also, Lance does have a point. His arm does kind of hurt.

“Yeah, okay,” Shiro relents, and walks beside him. Lance beams, and it’s such a joyful expression that Shiro can physically feel the dopamine producers in his brain going overdrive as a reaction. He grins back.

They walk up to Lance’s door, which he opens with a dramatic flourish.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he says.

Shiro hums as he takes it in — it’s a mirror image of Keith’s, in terms of furniture (which makes sense, as Keith’s right next door). There are a lot of climbing vine plants all over — on the walls, hanging off the ceiling, crawling up from the ground. Shiro squints as he looks at a plant in the far left corner that appears to be a giant Venus fly trap.

“Is that a —”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lance says quickly, noticing what has Shiro’s attention. “She doesn’t bite. Well, humans. She’s fine.”

Shiro squints at Lance for a couple minutes, considering. Lance has the face of a guilty person. Lance also regularly brings home strays, but the kind of strays that tend to kill people a little. Both of these things indicate to Shiro that he should probably be An Adult ™ and handle the situation.

But Lance is pulling out the puppy dog eyes. And honestly? The plant’s probably been here for a while, and no one’s died yet. It’s probably fine.

“Let’s move on,” Shiro decides, making Lance sigh in relief even though he tries to be subtle about it. He brightens up quickly, though, clapping his hands.

“Okay! Band-aid time!”

He rushes over to his bedside dresser, pulling out a box with a wonky-hand-painted red cross on it. Shiro grins.

That is adorable.

“Cute case,” he comments, sending a pleased flush across Lance’s cheeks.

“Thanks! Pidge got me the paint.” He opens the box with a click, carefully counting out a bunch of band-aids, some gauze, tape, disinfectant, and a lollipop, which makes Shiro chuckle.

Lance gathers his supplies and scooches over to where Shiro is kneeling, dumping the loot between them.

“Okay, big shoulder wound first. The good thing about this is that Altean disinfectant has a numbing agent, so it won’t hurt. You need to stay still, though.”

Shiro holds himself dutifully in place as Lance carefully wipes a soft cloth over his cuts, paying especially gentle attention to the cut on his shoulder. After all the wounds are clean and dry, he meticulously sticks the bandaids — all sorts of bright colours — over each of the cuts. When that’s done, he takes a square piece of gauze and tapes it slowly over the bigger cut on Shiro’s shoulder.

After all the wounds are dressed, Lance mutters a quick ‘be right back’ and rushes over to his small ensuite washroom. Shiro hears the tap run as Lance washes his hands, and he coma dashing back a couple minutes later.

“Okay! All set!” He hands Shiro the lollipop, which Shiro takes, both because he likes lollipops and also Lance is adorable.

They sit in silence for a bit, Shiro working on his candy and Lance humming to himself. Shiro realises that he doesn’t really want to leave. Lance doesn’t look like he wants Shiro to leave, either.

“We don’t have any training or anything planned tonight,” Shiro starts. “And, uh, I’ve got nothing to do.”

He doesn’t exactly know how to ask to stay. He doesn’t want to be weird, doesn’t know if Lance considers him a friend. Is it strange, because he’s technically their leader. Is this a sort of boss/employee scenario? Should he —

“Heck yeah!” Lance cheers, fists pumped and everything. “I was hoping you’d stay! I have nail polish in, like, every colour, and a I’ve been if it will stick to your prosthetic —”

Shiro grins as he watches Lance flutter around the room, gathering a bottle of blue sparkly nail polish and all sorts of other supplies before sitting cross-legged in front of him.

He talks and talks and talks as he applies a coat of paint to Shiro’s nails as carefully as he applied the bandages, tacking on a question on every third sentence. Shiro hears a million stories about every single one of Lance’s family members, about Hunk and Pidge, about Allura and Coran, about people he’s never heard of. He hears stories about Keith, too, although those are bracketed by the occasional stutter and flushed cheeks. Shiro tells Lance his own stories as well, of baby Keith and Adam and his mother, of days at the Garrison and pranks he pulled.

They chat long past Shiro’s manicure, and long past Lance’s, too. They probably talk past dinner, but Lance has a stash of candy, so neither of them are hungry.

Shiro glances at Lance, in the middle of a tale about him and Hunk and a wild goose that Shiro hopes his a little fabricated, and he grins.

He’s looking forward to more nights like these. He can’t believe he ever thought he and Lance were anything but friends.

———

based on this art