the_queerly_beloved

natsume_and_nyanko



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  1. Rec *

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    There are more and more murals overhead as they ride deeper into Old Detroit. Warnings, tributes. A chronicle of Raymanthia’s rise to power. In a lot of them a figure in a sweeping cloak stands above the chaos, hands spread, a golden crown hovering over his cloaked head. Sometimes he’s holding a lance, a sword—in one, his hands are raised over his head holding what’s unmistakeably a dragon skull, a sword buried between its empty eye-sockets.
    WYRMSLAYER, somebody has written, in dripping blood-red.

    --

    It's been a long time since Mike had a knighthood, a kingdom, a king. But fortunately for him, the mysterious Lord Vanquisher has taken up residence in the ruins of the capitol city, and he's willing to make Mike and his mercs an offer they don't want to refuse.

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    08 Dec 2020

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  2. Rec 32

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    “I’ve been wanting to…experiment a little…” Aziraphale tugged at her new dress. She’d thought it very fetching in the shop, belted tartan with wide lapels, short skirt and sleeves, neckline a little daring. But compared to Crowley, she looked…dull, uninspired.

    “You have? Since when?”

    “Ah. Well. A month or so. Since…since we moved.” Aziraphale waved her hand vaguely to indicate the entire cottage. “I thought it might be nice to – to try something and…” She pulled at her hair. The plan had been for shoulder-length curls, tighter than Crowley’s, but as they’d grown, they’d simply become more unruly, transforming into a frizzy, tangled mess. A disaster. A nightmare.

    This was why it was better not to try.
    --
    Aziraphale needs a change. She wishes she felt beautiful, confident - more like her wife.

    Crowley, though, sees the beauty within her. She just wishes Aziraphale could see the same.

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    4,292
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    1/1
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    04 Dec 2020

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    Bookmarker's Notes

    Makeup was an art, and she was an artist, sometimes. When it suited her. When the images filled her mind, straining against her until she took up pencil, or clay, or paint, or stone. Anything to pull the visions from her mind, make them real, make them tangible. To create again.

    Something left over from the dawn of time, she assumed, the last scrap of angelic nature in a thoroughly demonic soul. Once, she’d held the raw forces of the universe in her hands and molded stars from nothing; painted the vast emptiness of space with nebulae glowing in colors humans couldn’t perceive. Mortal art had always been a pale substitute.

    But all of it – statues and frescoes and stars – paled in comparison to the angel sitting before her, the most beauteous, wondrous being in all creation.

    If only Aziraphale could see it, too.

    Well. Crowley would see to that. It would be her greatest work yet.

  3. Rec 53

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    What happened between pages 537 and 538? That question, and waiting for new pages, led to this series of scenes imagining how Lalli came to begin learning Swedish, and how he and Emil got over the infamous Soup Incident--and several other incidents of their own making--before arriving at Odense. What started as something more like ficlet seems to be growing into an actual story of sorts. Who knew!

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    22/22
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    23 Aug 2020

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  4. Rec 52

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    Takashi skips meals. It's not on purpose, but it becomes a habit nonetheless.

    The first time it happens, Takashi’s eight, and he’s too afraid to go out of his room for dinner because that would mean having to interact with the family who’s just taken him in, and they’re scary.

    -

    Day 5: Bad Habits

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    2,238
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    05 Aug 2020

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  5. Rec *

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    “He’d have an easier time of it if there were somebody to mentor him,” says the General. He looks at Shiro sidelong. “I understand you’ll be stationed here for the next few years.”

    Shiro thinks of the flinch, and he knows already there's only one answer he can make.

    "What can I do?"

     

    Five years before Voltron, three years before Kerberos, Shiro finds Keith, and Keith finds a home.

    Series
    Language:
    English
    Words:
    181,902
    Chapters:
    48/48
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