#gaslightgallows

[widowshill]

Stupid art request: Roger trying to hide his gay homosexual Physical Culture magazines from Liz/Vicki/David

yeah he really pulled a fast one

[marzipanandminutiae]

Fellow survivor of terrible retail asking to please hear the Diane story!

Also: 17-yr-old me with a busted ankle & a dr's note was almost fired from a cashier job for asking for a stool to use at the register. Only wasn't fired bc my mother worked for the state Labor department and she had WORDS with the owner. :)

I have shared! But I’m answering this ask specifically because holy shit, I’m glad that monster got their comeuppance

[glitchingicarus]

“And you’re nothing without the Eye,” Jon snapped. “It promised you the Watcher’s Crown in return for a ruined world… but you were too greedy. You wanted all that suffering for yourself and your master, but you weren’t willing to pay for it, were you? Weren’t willing to feel the pain and the grief and the guilt—because you can’t. There’s nothing left within you except greed and terror… and that’s not enough for the Eye.”

“It led me to you,” Jonah retorted, his voice rising in disbelief, and so focused was he on the terrifying sight before him that he never noticed the cold, creeping cloud of fog forming just behind where he stood. “It showed me the way.”

“It led you to the Archivist.” Jon’s lips curled back from his teeth, and his viridian eyes were cold even as they cast their hot, sickly light on this now-powerless man who had ruined his life, and the lives of so many countless others. “It led you to your doom.”

In spite of everything, Jonah managed to laugh. “You’re… you’re bluffing.”

“I’m not, actually. You see, Jonah… I’m terrible at poker.”

Jonah frowned and opened his mouth to speak, and at that same moment, Martin suddenly emerged from the Lonely with a blast of salt air and sand, brandishing the garden spade like a club, and before Jonah could turn, Martin smashed the heavy metal blade across the back of his head, crushing his skull and dropping him to the floor like a stone.

-----

- The Kingdom of the Blind, Ch 19 ( @gaslightgallows ) 

[veliseraptor]

*sighs* All right. I give up. You win. Where/how can I watch the sad queer cultivators show?

the ungodly smile I just made!!! okay, so - you can watch it on Netflix, if you’ve got an account there - I personally got frustrated by the subtitles and swapped over to Viki.com, which is where I have rewatched it every time since. Viki does let you watch for free though there are ads.

there’s also a fansubs project in the works that I haven’t started watching yet (though I plan to give it a try!), but it’s only up to I think episode 15 at the moment and requires a little more hoop-jumping to track down.

publishing this publicly because while I know I’ve answered this before I figure other people can always use this information while I’m trying to pull everyone I possibly can into this fandom after me

[lizardbeths]

“What if my love for you is my punishment?” Loki/Sigyn (I'd love Understanding the Storm bc I am predictable, but as you like!)

To love is to fear loss 

Loki/Sigyn, from the future of the “Understanding the Storm” ‘verse

Loki gets some news.

______________________________

"I have joyful news," Sigyn said, smiling at him with such light in her eyes he could see nothing else at first. Her hand slipped down the front of her gown to lay over her abdomen. "I'm with child."

There was a roar in his ears, in his mind, and he could only stare at her in helpless confusion. "No," he said, shaking his head in denial. "You can't be."

She gave a little laugh. "You were there. Come, my love, you can sense the life, too." She held out her other hand, to draw him near.

He took a step back, instead of toward her, panic clawing at his throat. "No, no, you can't. It's too dangerous." His blood was... damaged, broken, how could it create anything but a monstrosity? Or death?

He couldn't breathe. She could die. This child could kill her, take her from him, and then the child would die, and he'd have nothing. It was a cruel jest, it had to be, to offer him everything and now pull it away.

He turned away, fists clenched, knowing he was ruining her joy and hating himself for that, too, but wasn't that just proof this was wrong? That the Norns were punishing him for being happy and now they were threatening it all?

Her arms slid around his waist from behind and she leaned her head against his shoulder. "I feel your fear," she murmured. "But let it go. It will be well, beloved. This is a gift, not a curse. Eir has already said the babe and I are healthy."

He turned around to hold her against him, closing his eyes and shaking his head against hers. "How?" his voice was hoarse and he didn't know what he was really asking. "How?"

How do I let go of the terror that this love will destroy me if I lose it?

Her hand was soft on his neck, rubbing gently, and he knew she would touch her child exactly the same way. "We're not going anywhere." After a few moments, his breathing settled and the fear, if not gone, had at least faded. She sensed that and took one hand in hers, and laid it on her stomach. "You can sense our child, too, Loki. This is hope made flesh. Feel it and you'll know."

Her hand held his larger hand against the silk. At first he didn't want to look - didn't want to make that tie, as if pretending it wasn't real meant it wouldn't exist - but then... somehow, without any conscious decision, he felt ... a brightness. A warmth. The strands of seidr were knotted right there, beneath his hand, tiny and golden and perfect.

He sank to his knees before her, both hands now covering the tiny light within, and he leaned his head against it, tears slipping down his cheeks.

Her fingers smoothed his hair. "You see? This isn't a threat of loss; it's a promise of life. We made this miracle."

Old reflex wanted to deny that he could have any part of such a wonder, but he pushed it away by concentrating on what he sensed. And it was a wonder, this miracle child of four Realms, to prove none of them were that different. All things were possible now.

"Hello, little one," he whispered to the fragile flame. "I can't wait to meet you."

[mostfacinorous]

35. “Run. As fast as you can. Don’t look back.” Good Omens pls :)

There were few times they willingly parted, over the years. It was mostly for safety, necessity, and this time would be no different-- save that everything was different. “Go.” Aziraphale begged him, the same as he’d been doing for the last three months, but now with the added urgency of someone who knows it is entirely too late. “Go where?” Crowley hissed back, stress raising his whisper to something louder. “This place is lousy with you lot-- if I so much as step foot out there, I’ll be discorporated or worse. I know you can feel it as good as I can.”

It was true and they both knew it. There was something in the neighborhood of a hundred thousand humans present, and nearly a quarter as many of the heavenly host.

They’d been hanging out in Portugal, and Aziraphale had been told to guide some children-- shepherd children, of course, as such things usually went-- to a specific place to receive word from On High. Crowley had insisted on coming along to make sure those kids got through it alright, though he’d insisted it was to spy on the opposition.

When the apparition had appeared, the children had fallen to their knees in awe and supplication, before Sandalphon, made to seem to them to be Their Lady-- the human portrait painters’ ideal version of that poor girl from so many years before, the Christ mother.

He told them, through glowing, holy lips, to three times give warning of the coming of God’s Glory-- once for each of them, once each month between now and the day of destiny. He said that come the 13th of October, all would believe. There had been more words, but the children had asked questions, and ultimately Crowley had started a small fire to put an end to the audience, before Sandalphon’s thinning patience could possibly lead to him smiting Her chosen messengers, but the point had been made.

October 13th, something was coming. Something big. And Aziraphale wanted Crowley nowhere near it.

His employers, on the other hand, did not feel the same.

“They want me here, to report. Give us some kind of heads up if Heaven’s up to something that affects us.”

“Really, Crowley, if I knew, I would tell you, I promise.” Aziraphale’s fingers had ached with wringing his hands, but that was all he could do-- this was, he’d been told, ‘way above his paygrade’.

“I know, but you don’t. And I believe you. But that means I have to stay.”

And stay he had. Through each month’s announcement from the children, and the rising fear and hope from those around them. Word circulated in the papers, and come October of 1917, people began to arrive, trickling in to set up camp in the fields near Cova de Iria.Thousands, then thousands more. It took on the air of a crowd waiting for a parade-- or an execution.

October 13th dawned bright and clear, unseasonably warm, and if you saw it on a screen, you would think it was an ordinary day. But the air buzzed with it-- excitement, fear, prophecy.

And Aziraphale and Crowley’s heads buzzed with it-- it, in this case, being the remaining vestiges of an incredible and well earned hangover, which even minor miracles could not wipe fully away. Aziaphale had begged Crowley to leave the night before, once again, and even then it had been too late. The angelic presence must have been staggering for him; it was a weight on even Aziraphale, and he was on their side. He couldn’t imagine how poor Crowley must feel.

Today was what everything had been leading up to. They knew where to be, and when-- noon was fast approaching, and all Aziraphale wanted was for it to be over. He cast a nervous, sidelong glance at the demon beside him, then upwards as he felt the first drop fall.

It was as though they had forgotten to summon clouds, for a moment-- the rain came from nowhere, before the clouds unfurled out of empty sky. But it was enough warning time for Aliraphale to shove Crowley under the nearest awning, placing himself between the rain and the demon.

“Holy water rain-- why?” He spluttered, heart erratic at the thought of how close he’d just come to losing his best friend.

Crowley swallowed.

“Well, they said it would be big-- but how the humans are supposed to know that’s what this is... or maybe they’re cleansing them to make way for whatever comes next.”

Whatever came next, it seemed, was happening now. They stepped outside as the rain stopped as suddenly as it began, and the sun appeared to pierce through the clouds-- but it was wrong. Shaking, spinning, zig zagging through the sky...

And it wasn’t the sun at all, but a mass of angels, alight with holiness, furious and glad and proud.

Aziraphale turned to Crowley, eyes wide.

“You have to go. You absolutely must. Go, get as far as you can.Run as fast as you can, and don’t look back.” Crowley glanced upward just once, and hissed in pain at the brightness, the holiness, even through his shades. And like that he was off, to who knew where, for who knew how long. And Aziraphale turned his face up to the false sun and took a deep breath.

It was a hell of a miracle. He didn’t know why it was happening, but he knew whomever was in charge of pulling it off was having a field day, and there would be that to contend with shortly.

He twisted his fingers again, and felt for Crowley, feeling as he fled ever further, and grateful, for the first time, to be without him, no matter how much his support would have meant in the days ahead. Aziraphale tried to quell the shudder he felt, the way his stomach dropped with uncertainty, even as a hundred thousand humans dropped to their knees in a frenzy of belief.

He thought he might be ill.

But at least Crowley would be safe.

[thewardlowcollection]

Hi! I was kindly send in your direction :) I'm looking for an oneshot, Jack & Mac, the basic plot is that Jack comes with whisky to Mac in order to convince her to take the recently free coroner's job, especially because she's good and can work with Phyne without complications. I'm pretty sure it was on AO3 but I can't find it anywhere.

Continuation: 

Hey, I'm sorry to bother you again, but I just wanted to say another reader found the Jack & Mac fic I was looking for! It was "You Asked For It" by gaslight_gallows, chapter 9 (part of a big collection) :)

Excellent -- we’re so happy you got help to find it! And “You asked for it” by @gaslightgallows is a great place to find ideas about and scenes from Miss Fisher’s world. 

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

@gaslightgallows replied to your post “so many things I want to watch are only on Netflix, which is kind of a...”

I'm seriously thinking of reupping my account and then just... casually handing out my login info

yeah that’s the other frustrating thing, I would love to chip in toward an account for several people in a similar situation as me (want a Netflix account, don’t expect to use it enough to justify the cost), but given that Netflix has problems with people just sharing accounts with family members who live in the same town, I imagine they could tell when different IP addresses are accessing the same account, which is probably the type of thing that quickly gets accounts shut down. :/