“You never see unicorns anymore,” Crawly grumbles, watching another collection of dusty donkeys trudge into town.
“Well, obviously not,” Aziraphale replies, rolling his eyes.
Crawly directs a frown at him.
“Obviously?” he repeats, eyebrows raised in a question.
“You were there, Crawly, you know perfectly well why not.”
Crawly blinks, which doesn’t happen very often.
“You’ve lost me.”
“The Ark?” Aziraphale tries, hoping to jog Crawly’s memory. “You remember, one of Noah’s ran off, they didn’t have time to find another before the rain started…”
Crawly frowns.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Aziraphale peers at his face, looking for the trick, the joke, the setup. All he sees is honest confusion. It’s his turn to blink.
“Crawly,” he says, somewhere between disbelief and a rather unangelic delight, “you do know why he had two of everything, don’t you?”
Crawly shifts defensively in his seat.
“Assumed it was one of those daft instructions sent down from on high, you know, one Ark, two of each animal, three of each kind of fruit, whatever—”
Aziraphale starts to laugh. He can’t help himself. Crawly scowls at him and hunches his shoulders.
“What? What’s so funny, angel?”
Angel. Crawly called him that in Eden, before Aziraphale thought to give him his name. He doesn’t know why he’s doing it now. Perhaps it’s supposed to be an insult. It doesn’t really have a lot of bite to it, if so.
“You’ve really never— all right, all right, don’t look so cross, I’ll tell you, I’m just— surprised, that’s all.” Aziraphale takes a sip of the fermented beverage the humans in this village have invented. It’s got potential, he thinks. “It takes two of them to breed, Crawly. Male and female.”
Crawly stares at him so blankly that Aziraphale has to bite his lip against more laughter.
“Please tell me you’ve at least noticed the physiological differences between the sexes—”
“Yes, yes, I know about that,” Crawly interrupts. “And what they get up to with those bits. You mean they’re not just for leisure activities?”
“No, they’re rather fundamental to the whole reproduction thing, in fact. The, ah, recreational applications are just a side-effect.”
“What, really?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“But humans are always—”
“Well, that’s why there’s so many of them these days.”
Crawly looks absolutely dumbfounded by this revelation, and more than a little outraged.
“What about birds?” he demands. “They just lay eggs whenever they want to, don’t they?”
“I believe mating is still required beforehand.”
“What about fish?”
“I’m fairly certain that the same rule applies.”
Crawly stares into his clay cup, lips moving slightly as he tries to come to terms with this whole concept. His expression tilts suddenly into something that unexpectedly yanks on Aziraphale’s heartstrings.
“Oh,” he says quietly. “So no more unicorns, then.”
“No,” Aziraphale replies, no longer laughing.
“I’d have got it back for them, if I’d known,” Crawly mumbles.
Yes, Aziraphale thinks, surprised by his own certainty, you would have, wouldn’t you?
In the movie venom during the first human trials of the symbiote, the research team is happy that the patients “vitals are holding steady”. This is a reference to the production team not consulting a single medical professional to find out what good vital signs look like.
Ah yes, a pulse of 136 And an oxygen saturation of 81%
The ideal levels
Yes nothing to be concerned about there
Perfectly normal
They said they were holding steady, not that they were holding healthy.
“Patient’s vitals are steady.” “Doctor… They’re dead.” “And maintaining that state quite well.”
party leader: this entire dungeon is booby trapped, so whatever you do, don’t. touch. ANYTHING. got it?
me literally 5 minutes later: *wanders over to an interesting looking magical spellbook displayed in an alcove and picks it up to read it* *the floor immediately starts to shake and chunks of stone begin to rain from the ceiling*
everyone else in the party: what the hell, man?!?!??
party leader: *facepalming* what did i literally JUST say???
me: i forgot, alright? i’m sorry, geez
party leader: *whispering* we have to sneak past the guards, so we’re gonna have to be quiet
me: *in a normal voice bc i can’t whisper* got it
party leader: shh!
me: *raising my voice indignantly* i AM being quiet!
party leader:
me: *is suddenly struck with the urge to laugh for no reason as we sneak silently past the guards*
me:
me:
everyone else in the party:
me, dropping my throwing knives onto the growing pile of weapons at our feet: okay, that’s all of them
guard frisking me: and what about this? *pulls a dagger out of my boot*
me: oh neat, i was wondering where that had gotten to! i thought i’d lost it :)
remember when discord first got big and some people on Tumblr tried to claim certain users had elitist private servers when in reality those discords were just personal friend group chats
Just once I would like the mentor’s beautiful daughter to actually, sincerely hate the hero’s guts.
Like, not like ‘belligerent sexual tension’ hate his guts. Not ‘learn a valuable lesson about resentment and gets over it’ hate his guts. No, just straight up, 100%, wouldn’t-piss-on-you-if-you-were-on-fire, the-sound-of-your-name-makes-me-puke-a-little-in-my-mouth hate his guts.
And my entire kingdom for a story where she ‘helps’ him train and then goes and hands a detailed list of all of his weaknesses and strategies to his rival like ‘kick his fucking ass’.
Alternatively, how about the ‘hero’ is actually the villain, because it turns out that the mentor not trusting his own daughter’s capabilities enough to let her be the chosen one and instead granting phenomenal cosmic powers to the first rando farmboy who comes along actually wasn’t the smartest idea he’s ever had.
I am Silver Tongue, I am an artist. I have many characters and you can check out my art in the art tag. I occasionally practice witchcraft though I don't do anything too complicated. I am girl 2 and don't know what else to put here.
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