If Ur Arabic Ur Great If Ur Arabic And Muslim Ur Great If Ur Arabic And Queer Ur Great If Ur Arabic And

Reblog if you hate picrews with no dark skin options (yes even the ones where the shade of white is even a little darker, and yes ashy tones too bc there SUPER annoying, and the ones with no curly or protective hair like braids)

If you are against BLM, you are unwelcome on my page.

If you support AllLivesMatter or BlueLivesMatter, you are not my friend.

If you think the riots are unjustified and irrational, unfollow me right now.

I am not black, but I support the black community all the way. I cannot possibly understand your pain or your suffering, but I'm with you. Now and forever.

PT 1: Since it’s officially Nonbinary Awareness Week, I decided to make some nice userboxes to celebrate some different nonbinary identities! And if you don’t see a userbox for your gender on any of my posts, please don’t hesitate to ask me to make a one for you! 😊

♡♡♡♡ Happy Nonbinary Awareness Week, everyone!!!! ♡♡♡♡

Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

Reblog if Fan Fics are just as valid as Fan Art

Affirmation for writers, please!!

Likes do nothing!!

Im trying to prove a point to my mum

Repost if school has caused:

Anxiety Depression Suicidal thoughts Social anxiety Eating disorders Self harm Stress

autism just keeps winning

it’s because gender is stupid and autistic people aren’t

All aces and aros are a part of the LGBT community.

“But–”

all of them

“but what if–”

all of them

“but they don’t–”

a l l o f t h e m

-sincerely, a pan trans woman who is neither

Such Great Heights

This is based on an ask:  “ Imagine Crowley having found a book that contained Gustavedore’s artwork and he was looking at the depictions of angels and he casually says to Azirphale, none of them are as beautiful as you ~~~”

So I of course, had to hammer out a nearly 2 thousand word fic in which Crowley is jealous, Aziraphale is oblivious, and (probably excessively) dramatic confessions are made.

Such Great Heights

On a Tuesday in October, Aziraphale found himself in rare possession of a most quintessentially perfect afternoon.

Outside, trees, swathed in resplendent oranges and reds, shivered in delight at the autumnal breeze tickling their leaves. On his desk, steam rose from a freshly brewed cup of tea. And a new book waited, open and ready for his most ardent perusal.

Peaceful. Aziraphale reflected, lifting the steaming cup to his lips. It was peaceful.

Quiet too.

Aziraphale froze, cool ceramic pressing against his lips.

Entirely too quiet.

If Aziraphale were alone, the silence would have been acceptable - welcomed even. But the problem was this: he was not alone.

A few hours ago, Crowley had breezed in, colorful leaves swirling around him, moaning about boredom. He’d then proceeded to prowl around the shop, getting underfoot as Aziraphale read - er, worked - and being the general sort of nuisance that only a demon suffering from excessive boredom can be.

The last time Aziraphale had heard from him was half an hour ago.

As Aziraphale sorted some of his newer books, he’d heard Crowley somewhere near the back of the shop, doing what sounded like a frightful amount of rummaging. Aziraphale had resolved to put a stop to it - only to re-discover a book he’d been meaning to read, tucked, forgotten beneath a pile of texts.

Readying the book, Aziraphale had promptly hurried to brew a cup of tea.

Now, a few pages in, silence hung over the bookshop like a curse.

A loud, bored demon might a nuisance, but a silent, bored demon was dangerous.

Aziraphale frowned, sitting up. Setting the cup aside, he turned a wary glance over the shop.

“Crowley?” he called

No response.

Not good.

Aziraphale rose, swiftly marking his page. Straightening his vest with a determined tug, he marched toward the rear of the store - the last known location of Crowley’s mischief.

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