"beardo, I say this with love. You do not have poise and propriety. You're a smut writer who falls over when somebody flirts with you." https://archiveofourown.org/users/beardo and e-rated-beardo.bsky.social
Hey everyone. There's a new youtube feature that rolled out just yesterday that's raising some privacy concerns.
People in the U.S., U.K., Brazil, and Singapore can now share videos and chat with friends directly within the YouTube app. The update bring
This post talks about a new DM feature in youtube. What it fails to mention is that as part of this new feature is that when you send someone a link to a video, and they open it in the youtube app, they will see who sent them the link. Specifically, your channel name.
If your google account name is your real name, so is your channel name by default.
This means the new default behavior is that everyone you send a youtube link to will see your full name if they open it in the mobile app.
To turn this off:
Go to your youtube app settings
Go to Privacy
Turn off "Channel visibility for shared links"
Trimming the source id (the stuff after the '?' in links) will also prevent this from happening.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
"Didn't you have a flaming sword?"
"Erm..."
"Yes you did, it was flaming like anything, what happened to it?"
"I- uh...."
"Lost it already, have you?"
"I gave it away..."
"You WHAT?!!"
"I gave it away!!!"
I read a lot of scripts. A lot. From professionals to aspiring writers to complete newbies. Features and pilots. Specs and treatments.
And 8 times out of 10 the fan fic that I’ve read over the last, oh, 15 years is leagues better than this stuff. It’s more inspired. It’s more compelling. It’s genre bending and creative and heartfelt. It’s well-paced and intense and funny and sexy and meaningful. It’s smart and thoughtful and good. It’s novel-quality. Better than, sometimes.
Rare is the script I don’t want to put down, but how often have we stayed up until 3am to get to the last chapter of a 100k fic? And it’s not even a fan fic author’s day job. This is what they do on the side. In their spare time. For free.
So my point is, fan fic authors, you’re good. You’re good writers and great storytellers. I know it doesn’t always feel like it, especially if you’re one of the authors who’s not a BNF and doesn’t get the notes/hits that a few do. And because some people still view fic as “not real writing.” You guys know the shit that gets made into movies. You’re better than that. So be better than that. If writing is what you think want to do, then just know you’re already doing it. You’ve already started.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
for all the people that are struggling to come to terms with the good omens finale and what it means for the fandom (myself included), i really really want to stress that you will not lose anything you don't want to lose because of it.
here's a list of things that are still here, that you can access anytime:
the book
the radio adaptation
season 1
season 2 (grab the bits you like and ignore the rest if necessary)
the bits of season 3 you did like (ignoring the rest may feel more difficult here but it is achievable i promise)
all the fanworks that exist already, whether they were created pre-tv adaptation, post-s1, post-s2 or post-s3
all of david and michael's interviews and other promo about the show pre-s3
the fans that are currently active in the fandom
the memories you've made in the fandom
and here's a list of things we can look forward to:
more fanworks/fanwork events, because people are still creating and will continue to do so
getting to know new good omens friends, whether they're new to the fandom or just new to you
in that vein, welcoming new fans to the fandom (it may not seem likely but new people will continue to seek us out!)
the final ineffable con and all the craziness and content that will come from that
people continuing to discover your fanworks, old and new
the moments where you'll start to feel the finale, the show in general and/or the fandom becoming easier to engage with again
most of all, aziraphale and crowley will always be there for you. i promise. i know it may feel like they're gone, but they're not, as long as we still watch them, think about them, read about them, write about them, draw them, cosplay them, talk about them... they want to be here, on earth, with all of us, and they are, i promise they are.
Hey, y'all! Thank you so much for what you do here.
I'm wondering if there are fics where the combined miracle phenomenon plays a role. In my imagination, they would use this ability to do the biggest miracle they could, together, to hide or block off earth from heaven and hell. Same ending of earth no longer being messed with, but they're still around, and still themselves. Anything like this would be amazing.
I know with the finale just out, you're probably getting swamped, so I'll be scrolling the wonderful page for things to tide me over.
Thank you!
We have some fics about the 25 lazarii miracle here, as well as #powerful aziraphale and #powerful crowley tags, which may interest you. I can't find many more specifically about joint miracles though...
Secret Mission by Dragonfire42 (G)
Muriel did their best in their new and unexpected role of running a bookshop, with firm instructions from the new Supreme Archangel (strongly reinforced by the demon Mr Crowley) to not actually sell any books. Which left them with quite a bit time to fill.
They didn't let that distract them from their original mission: to verify whether the twenty-five lazarii miracle made Nina and Maggie across the road fall in love...
It Ends As It Began by canadiankazz (T)
“Crowley, what if… what if you and I getting together was really Her plan all along?” Aziraphale whispered excitedly. “What if you and I being together really was the right thing to do this whole time?”
How I hope the series will end.
Find the Lady by Waspsfire (G)
God may play an ineffable game of chance but Crowley's good at finding the lady. What you think you see, isn't always what you see and a demon with nothing to lose takes a chance on survival away from god and with his angel.
Or
Crowley uses the very last of their magic to try one last desperate joint miracle as they disintegrate. He's an optimist after all.
The Power of LOVE: Our INEFFABLE Dyad’s Joint Miracle by graywings (T)
God watches Aziraphale and Crowley deal with the aftermath of the joint miracle.
I'll add a self rec to these lovely fics, you made me realise I hadn't tagged it for combined miracle.
Post S3 fix-it, Transcendental, rated T, 3k.
He took a step back. His corporation tingled all over. His eyes went wide as a wave of determination hit him.
Crowley gaped. “Ang– Angel… Why are you grinning like a maniac?”
“Am I grinning?” Aziraphale wiggled his shoulders. “Oh, I suppose I must be.” He circled around Crowley, who turned to follow his pacing so as to still face him, desperation darkening his beautiful features. “Aziraph–”
The Angel held up a forefinger. “No, Crowley! Don’t you see? We can’t give up. We don’t give up. We never give up!”
“Everything is gone,” Crowley whispered. “There’s nothing left to save…”
“There is us!”
Taking the chance to rec my 2024 s3-speculation again, because it definitely qualifies –
Nice And Ominous: a reluctant eschatology of the Second Attempt (3 parts, 117k words total, rated E but only in three short, skippable sections, otherwise T) or if you want the quick version, just Part III: Not Single Spies (61k, skippable E), which works fine on its own but does not include Crowley Being Sad™️ (part 1) or Aziraphale trying to rule Heaven (part 2), both of which are also good, I'm told.
Summary (part 1): Aziraphale has gone back to Heaven and Crowley has gone... well, in the direction his bonnet pointed, really; it doesn't matter, as long as it's anywhere but London. His back seat full of plants and his passenger seat full of empty bottles, he starts finding that his bonnet points back towards Soho more often than not and that the music is oddly appropriate. And some of the humans—and angel—on Whickber Street seem to care, for whatever stupid reason, whether he's dead or alive.
Summary (part 2): The new Supreme Archangel is Struggling. He can't stop the Second Coming, the archangels barely take him seriously, and a fog of blissful joy, only controllable by incessant, stone-cold fury, seems set to make his own mind betray him. Aziraphale has never been the one with the plan, but now, he needs to prevent the next apocalypse and keep Crowley safe on Earth, all while that reckless serpent insists on meddling in Heaven's affairs. (At least the new Christ is a good kid, and the Pope has nice tea.)
Summary (part 3): A man with pale hair turns up in Saint Peter's Square, naked and without memory, and Crowley's old sense of Aziraphale's location snaps like a twig.
Heaven is down another Supreme Archangel—but the new Christ is already on Earth (in France, to be precise) and the Second Coming is well underway. And Crowley works for Hell now, but really, he works for the good of humanity; pulling on every friend he has to stop the end of the world.
Everything comes to a head with a delivery van, a flaming sword, a road trip, a prophecy, a wheat field and a miracle of rather significant proportions.
In this version, they may not force Heaven and Hell to stay away forever, but they do Fix Things Rather Significantly. And the ending is happy. Angst is limited and brief because I literally can't write angst for long without making myself depressed.
piggybacking off this post by @aduckwithears: what if the bookshop was noah's ark 2.0, but for everything?
what if they end up in the shop after everything has been erased, only this time crowley thinks: was the place always this big? it’s more of a maze than he remembers, now that he’s properly looking. rows and rows of shelves twisting and turning in a dozen labyrinthine directions. staircases spiraling up to nowhere. hallways branching off the foyer like tree roots, that’s new.
aziraphale emerges from the bowels of the shop, successful in his quest for cocoa. a warm drink at the end of all things, how painfully british. as far as crowley can tell, nothing has survived; not the earth, or alpha centauri, or any distant stars and nebulas clinging to the skin of the universe. not even light, the fastest, most fundamental thing in all of creation. but somehow, fortnum & mason has. somehow, aziraphale’s chintzy mug embossed with the words HOT STUFF in blazing cherry red above a little cartoon devil has.
“don’t ask,” he says, pushing it into crowley’s hands.
crowley opens his mouth, several questions and a taunt or two already lined up in the wings— and that's when he sees it.
oh.
that’s definitely new.
“angel.”
“it was a gift, if you must know, white elephant gone horribly, horribly wrong, and then i couldn’t bring myself to donate it, one can never have too much drinkware—”
“aziraphale, shut up a moment, would you, and look.”
to the angel’s credit, he shuts up and looks.
memory is a funny thing, unreliable, easily eroded. crowley would have sworn, cross his char-blackened heart, that the tree was taller. in his mind, the branches extend like reverent hands towards the heavens, heavy with fruit, wide and green and swallowing up the whole sky. he is very small, beneath it.
aziraphale’s hand finds his shoulder. “oh.”
“yeah.”
“well, that’s…certainly a design choice. did we…?”
“who else? we’re all that’s left.” but no, that’s not quite right. the dickens. crowley scoops it up, flips it open, then keeps flipping, eyes dancing over pages that are no longer empty.
next to him, aziraphale frowns into his mug. “but how? if this is some sort of, of…cosmic leg-pull, i confess i’m failing to see the—” his face goes blank, then lights up like a christmas tree, a study in giddy. “oh! oh, of course. even the dickens.”
“it was you.” crowley takes his time with the words, feeling each one rush through him. an equal yet opposite kind of flood. “you named him, and it brought him back.”
they gaze at each other, stunned.
“we need more books,” says crowley, at the same time that aziraphale declares, “we need more cocoa.”
and so it goes. they start with the classics, squabbling over semantics (“for the last time, crowley, twilight does not count. i don’t care how many copies were sold worldwide.”) they brave the jeffrey archers. they pore over encyclopedias, scraping their teeth on words like lithospheric mantle, reveling in the euphony of sonoluminescence. and something peculiar starts to happen, a sort of field of dreams situation.
people start happening.
they’re the only thing that could, really. if a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear, does it matter? the tree was there; the knowledge was there. it was real. it existed, in spite of. because of. what use does humanity have for a book that tells them, yes, you can be, i will allow it, i will permit it. we create our own mythos, simply by living, by looking at the rorschach blob and finding joy in the mess, beauty in the mundane. you’ve seen the post: forty-thousand years ago, humans stenciled their handprints on the wall of a cave, and this morning, my niece learned to fingerpaint.
so yes, people start happening. friends curl up in the shop’s back room, trashing oprah’s book club pick of the month. lovers spin in a slow circle beneath the oculus as fred astaire croons from the gramophone. someone brings up the duct-taped banana (“how fucking pretentious. anyone could do that shit.” “yeah, but they didn’t. this dude did. in this essay, i will—”), and someone else says, have some art nouveau, maybe you’ll calm down, and the far atrium is suddenly a tribute to klimt, bursting with geometric golds and ornamental greens. in the foyer, a young man teaches amateur card tricks from a folding table that aziraphale will swear up and down isn’t his; the tag on his jumper reads, hi, my name is josh. here, a neolithic wheel. there, a 7th-century chaturanga board. paul blart: mall cop, wedged between the self-helps and memoirs. people begetting creation begetting people, an ouroboros of abracadabra, creating as they speak, until the bookshop is overflowing with it. bursting at the seams with humanity. the world is remade here, in the gaps between stanzas of that shitty poem you wrote when you were twelve, in the canned laughter on your best friend’s favorite sitcom. i am trying to get the seas back on the maps, where they belong. i am trying to love the world back to normal. we survive through storytelling, that ineffable collision of necessity and ingenuity, anchoring the world like the roots of a great tree. we tell stories to remind ourselves that we are alive. we are here.
slowly but surely, the void beyond the bookshop’s windows begins to brighten. human hands stitch the universe back together. and a small eternity later, crowley and aziraphale pull the stream of time around themselves like a cocoon, and rest.
“there’s nothing to forgive, you know,” crowley says. “i know i was flippant about it before, but the truth is— we were both a little bit right, in the end. weren’t we?”
“and a little bit wrong,” aziraphale agrees.
there is sunlight, their time-adjacent bubble. it catches in aziraphale’s cloud of curls, limning him in gold. not a halo, but a frame. the contour of a face and form freely chosen. every day for the rest of our lives, we’ll get to choose, crowley will think, the realization settling just behind his ribs. how about that.
he sees it, the moment aziraphale realizes it too.
“actually i take it back.” crowley grins, and the space between them contracts, then shrinks, a star collapsing. “yeah, i’d like an apology for the pointy teeth. my culture’s not your costume, angel.”
aziraphale’s smile is luminous. “crowley. beloved.”
“hm?”
“shut up a moment, would you, and kiss me. properly, this time.”
“such hard work,” says crowley, and he does. there might be supernovas. maybe another big bang. nobody is around to see it, celestial, infernal, or otherwise, but that’s alright. it exists, it has always existed. here, in the kitchen, loving the world. steadfastly loving.
You Go Too Fast For Me: Stop Telling Me To Chill Out About GO3.
cw: suicide
You know, Good Omens was an umbrella. It was a safe gathering space, a shelter and a haven for queer and traumatized and outcast folk for more than 30 years. Some of us are survivors of unspeakable horrors, and having to watch our comfort characters suicide onscreen with absolutely no warning, no toll free numbers and no consideration-- after a heavy barrage of seemingly intentional catfishing and misleading-to-outright-false advertisement from literally everyone involved in advance-- was simply devastating.
Coming up against smug, rude bullying, disdain and hate from long-beloved peers inside my own fandom for reacting emotionally to a trauma and continuing to struggle to reconcile the finale has been... fucking ass. Some of you are so nasty, so damn cruel. I'm thrilled it's just a show for you; my inbox is full of people who are having to go/back on psychiatric medications, triple booking therapy they can't afford, enduring fresh bouts of intrusive thoughts, suicidal ideation, and self-harm. Several people I know vomited at the end of go3 and were unable to keep food down for days after. I cannot say it strongly enough. It was a savagely cruel thing to endure for many, including those who have experienced loss of loved ones from suicide, for example, like myself.
These fresh-- and old, retraumatized-- wounds require airing out, at a minimum. And sometimes that's uncomfortable for those around us, I know. But for Christ's sake, could you take a swing at a little empathy for us? Block the tags and let us grieve. We have been brutalized newly in a place we believed we were safe, where we had been actively promised and previously shown we were safe-- a place we trusted.
I'm sorry our agony isn't moving along fast enough for you. Personally, I have had three years of intensive healing torn out of me, and have thirty years of wasted love for my ineffables to grieve.
So, if you all don't mind, I'm going to be a goddamned minute.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
between david “crowley evaporated” tennant and michael “aziracrow chose annihilation” sheen do you guys remember the days when this show was actually a comedy and didn’t end in the destruction of everything we loved about it?
alright I've got to do some quick math to explain attitudes towards AI to my boss.
we're looking to create an AI policy, and when we were talking about this, my boss (older millennial) was genuinely shocked to hear that younger people do not (seem) to view AI positively (a la the recent commencement speakers being booed)
please rb for larger sample size!
Question 1/3
What is your age, and do you feel AI is a net positive or net negative in our lives today?
Hi! Are you cis in the UK and you'd like to support trans rights? Great!
How: buy a trans flag pin and wear it in public.
Why: chaff is an overwhelming amount of false positives so that when a missile gets close to the plane, it hits the chaff and not the plane.
In practice: the goal is to make it DIFFICULT to identify trans people to target with bathroom bans, and to create many FALSE POSITIVES for businesses.
Basically, you might get accused of being trans and kicked out, because of the badge. You say: I wear the badge because trans rights matter.
You follow up with a letter to the business saying you're fucking furious because some nosy dipshit just tried to play fucking genital police with you in the loos. You know lots of trans people (don't name any, if you do) and you wear the pin in support and you're disgusted at them for allowing this.
Blame the business for allowing the behaviour.
Businesses see that their cis customers are getting bothered over a badge and may clarify trans-inclusive policies, so they can kick out the bathroom botherers instead of nice cis allies.
You only need to buy and wear the badge, and you are protecting trans people. You can be genuinely heroic. Even one cis person doing this helps, and everyone you get to join in helps even more.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
