[micromultiverse]

[amnhnyc]

Did you know the Elf Owl (Micrathene whitneyi) is one of the smallest owl species in the world? The tiny raptor only grows about 5.6 inches (14.2 centimeters) long with a weight of around 1.9 ounces (55 grams). It’s native to parts of the southern United States and Mexico, where it lives in a variety of habitats including savannas and forests. Unlike other owls, the Elf Owl prefers to avoid conflict and may play dead or make an escape if threatened or confronted. It mainly feeds on insects but also eats small mammals and reptiles from time to time. When settling in for a meal, it plucks off dangerous bits—like a scorpion’s stinger—before consuming.
Photo: Richard Crossley
https://www.instagram.com/p/BzcMmtRAXOE/?igshid=1hrnu7jls4gi

[good-omens-fan-comics]

Anonymous asked:

hello i am living for your sweet good omens content never stop thank you for your time

turnipoddity answered:

I’m not gonna stop any time soon

[land-of-frogs-and-dragons]

[forineffablereasons]

aziraphale “guardian of the eastern gate” guards two things during his tenure in eden and neither one of them is the eastern gate. 1) humans themselves 2) the demon crowley 

[stickyfrogs]

[toadschooled]

Can you spare a worm for this cute and hungry Budgett’s frog [Lepidobatrachus laevis]? These frogs are native to Paraguay and Bolivia, and are popular as pets due to their relatively easy care and unique appearance. Image by Yuyu Green.

[strangelyineffable]

Anonymous asked:

write more about Crowley and Aziraphale's movie night please I love what you wrote dude

forineffablereasons answered:

(the first time crowley says it out loud, the end credits are rolling over the screen. he has no idea what film just finished playing; he didn’t see a single second of it. they’re tucked together on the sofa, hands entangled between them, and crowley has been so aware of aziraphale for the last two hours that he can hardly breathe.

aziraphale knows it already, of course. crowley knows that he knows. it hasn’t been said, maybe, but it’s understood. if not since the beginning, at least since aziraphale held out his hand at the end of the world, and crowley took it. we’re on our own side. 

the distances between them have dwindled since then: an unspoken navigation of uncharted space. aziraphale is warm now against crowley’s side, and even though the film is over, he makes no move to pull away. his thumb strokes softly over the back of crowley’s hand, an absent comfort to the both of them. his eyes are closed, head tipped back against the sofa cushions, but he’s not asleep—crowley can see the faint curve of a contented smile.

he looks, in the blue light of the telly, completely at peace.

crowley sit sideways in his seat and leans his cheek back against the sofa, watching him, and he says it without meaning to. it draws itself out from somewhere deep in his chest, spilling out gently, softly, unexpectedly: a confession that’s more breath than intention. the exhale; the release. i love you.

he didn’t mean to say it, but he doesn’t try to take it back. aziraphale knows it already.

next to him, aziraphale is still for a moment, and then his hand tightens briefly around crowley’s. his smile deepens, eyes still closed, and says, i love you too, you know.

maybe he did know that already. maybe he didn’t. he can’t remember now, because aziraphale has said it, and crowley breathes the words in. do you? he asks, just to see if aziraphale will say it again.

aziraphale opens his eyes and looks back at him. the end credits are coming to an end, the music slowing as it prepares to fade away. he raises a hand to crowley’s cheek, soft and warm against his skin, leans in so that their foreheads touch. crowley feels surrounded: held. 

i love you, aziraphale says, deliberately, carefully, so he cannot be mistaken. his eyes glow in the light from the telly. i love you.

oh, crowley says, oh. i love you too.

aziraphale smiles again, helplessly, beautifully. i know you do, he says. 

and there’s a sigh, and a gasp–the out and the in, the exchange, the relief. quiet and soft and deniable, if he had to, but he doesn’t, because aziraphale is kissing him, or maybe he is kissing aziraphale, or maybe they were kissing already. crowley doesn’t remember. 

he doesn’t remember, and it doesnt matter. aziraphale is kissing him, or he is kissing aziraphale, and the end credits are already over.) 

[strangelyineffable]

[isarylla]

(instagram)

[lynnafred]

[fuckyeahisawthat]

More headcanons:

As soon as Crowley knows that it’s wanted, that it’s safe, he is up for the absolute maximum amount and variety of physical contact that Aziraphale can handle. Sneaky handholding and casual touches in public? This is a great game and Crowley is going to WIN. Platonic cuddling and snuggly naps together? Let me drape myself over you like a python on a heat rock. Kissing? Bring it the fuck on. Human-style sex? Sure why not, let’s find out what happens. Weird transdimensional non-euclidean angel sex? (Crowley gets real flustered thinking about that one.) Anything you want, angel, says the demon who always showed his love through actions. As much or as little as you want. Anything, angel. Anything.

And Aziraphale’s the one who’s like !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! every time their fingers accidentally brush or Crowley puts a casual hand on the small of his back as they walk through a doorway. It’s not that he doesn’t want it (good Lord, he desperately does) but it’s still A Lot. He’s not used to touching or being touched (does Heaven look like a place where anyone snuggles?) and he’s definitely not used to touching or being touched by Crowley.

And Crowley, bless him, is never, ever, ever pushy about physical contact; if anything he’s hyper aware of how Aziraphale is reacting to anything he does. It’s just that when Aziraphale initiates something he is painfully eager to get in on it.

Their dynamic with physical intimacy? With emotional intimacy it’s the exact opposite way around.

[satanwritesfanfiction]

Ineffable bureaucracy because I’m obsessed  

[kitkat-doodles]

I saw a post earlier on how Gabriel would definitely be jealous about Beelzebub having a line in Bohemian rhapsody but as we know the almighty loves musicals like sound of music. So just imagine this:

Gabriel would definitely boast that he has a whole song in “Anything goes” called blow Gabriel blow.

[scarletpan-moved]

Silence. 

The sound was foreign to the demon, accustomed to the drip of leaky pipes, or perhaps the clamor of overworked, overcrowded demons. Here, the peaceful nothingness was broken only by the soft buzzing of flies above the bed, and the soft breathing of the body beside th- 

                Body?

                          Breathing??

A sharp glare flickered to the form, face half-pressed into the pillow, hair pressed slightly into his face where, typically, the perfectly unblemished features would never be obscured by such. Quiet breaths passed the angel’s lips, and not even a spot marred the pillow beneath his head. 

( Much unlike the pillow Beelzebub themself had just lifted their head from, which had several stains from their night’s rest )

A snarl curled their expression, eyes narrowing softly as, in their mind, the prior day’s events replayed. A meeting, feeding those damned ducks while discussing the mess Heaven and Hell had both been left in after Crowley and Aziraphale’s little stunt. That was all it was supposed to be - a professional meeting. 

But something had buggered that right up, now hadn’t it. 

Their attention snapped from frustrated thoughts, piecing the moments leading up to this together like a puzzle - or perhaps a dismembered corpse - back to the angel, when a soft sound passed his lips. Quiet shifts of his head, leaving no smudges of dirt nor grime, as he… 

                      What was he doing…? 

Unfamiliar heat seemed to flood the demon’s cheeks, a vastly uncomfortable feeling in their chest as they watched the angel curl up contently in his blankets, enjoying his rest while he could get it. 

                            “Disgusting.” 

The mumble, directly contradicting the slight color that had found their grime smudged features - and it should be. An angel, so at peace, should be bait to cause harm. It should be as disgusting as… as Crowley fawning over that damned angel of his!  

After all, demons weren’t beings meant for these sort of…. 

                                                                                              Niceties! 

    Comfort, soft scenes, they weren’t part of a demon’s resume! 

                                    Damned Niceties! 

Bare feet swung off of the edge of the bed, warmth still painting the demon’s cheeks, burn marks left on the sheets as they crammed on their shoes and moved to yank their coat from where it had been abandoned, across the back of a chair. 

“Where even are-” Grumbled words cut off before the sentence could finish. They couldn’t very well go back to hell reeking of angel musk. 

                 May as well get a coffee before returning, let his stench wear off. 

Lip upturned, they glanced back at the sleeping angel, taking in the full scene of it now. Dirtied sheets beside the peaceful angel, taking up far more of the bed than they should have allowed. Their snarl sharpened as the realization dawned, memory flickering through their mind. 

                                                 Damn cuddly beings- 

That warmth returned, painting their features as they made way to the door, glancing back over their shoulder once more. 

                     Perhaps they would bring the blasted angel a coffee as well. 

                Not to be nice! Hell no. But…

                                                   They were going to the coffee shop already…