Mar 15
so very, very Hennessy
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so very, very Hennessy
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.
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If you're considering going or returning to Twitter, don't.
A friend of mine who's in the smoshtwt community said that more and more people are replying under photos/posts of Smosh's women cast members (Amanda for example) by asking the app's gen-AI tool to put them in bikinis. Not just regular ones, MICRO BIKINIS.
I'm so glad I left that hell hole long ago before all this has taken place. So, if you have plans to go to Twitter, I hope this serves as a cautionary reminder.
If that otherwise turns you off of Twitter entirely, the better!
I think after all these years of not allowing myself to get angry or sad in normal ways that aren't even the least bit repressed I've reached a breaking point wherein my emotional regulation is all over the place and my brain keeps connecting the wrong amount of emotions to the wrong contexts and situations (exhibit a: me exploding at all of my classmates when I could have just sent a text message explaining how upset I was) .... so much for growing up to be a good pure angelic christian girl
creating an AU that is so alien to the concepts of demon slayer is hard because none of these characters are going to stay the same once I hit them with the AU-fication beam
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Well they *don’t*
Much has been made of Aziraphale’s out-of-touch musical tastes. And I agree that his particular dismissal of Velvet Underground suggests that he stopped paying attention in the 1940s, at least. Given the list of composers Crowley taunts him with (”Mozart’s one of ours... “), I’m tempted to say that Aziraphale stopped approving of new music far earlier -- just before the Late Romantic, in fact. Hmm.. right around the early 1860s (*cough* big St James Park holy water fight *cough*). Whatever the reason, we know that Azirphale is Clueless about modern music. HOWEVER...
Once when he was waiting for Crowley at the bandstand he heard a nearby street performer blaring Shakira. He raised his eyebrows in interest when “Hips Don’t Lie” came on and by the end was pursing his lips in a thoughtful way that Crowley would’ve found part erotic, part worrying. Either way, trouble. But Crowley didn’t see. Aziraphale had composed himself back to neutral by the time his hereditary enemy sauntered up.
It’s a fact, though, that the very next time the demon tries to give the angel a mobile -- as he has done many times before -- the angel actually accepts. Pleasantly surprised that he’s finally having an influence, Crowley says he’s going to call the new phone so that it’ll have his number. “I need to be able to reach you wherever you are, Angel, but you also need to be able to reach me.”
Aziraphale only hums contentedly, watching as his new mobile... shakes awake... to the sounds of Crowley’s ringtone....
Now, Satan knows that angel can’t set his own ringtones. Hasn’t had the mobile long enough even if he did know. And how would he be aware of personalized ringtones to begin with? Crowley narrows his eyes behind the glasses. It’s all very suspicious that “Hips Don’t Lie” should be blasting from this brand new mobile in response to his call. But Aziraphale is looking cherubic as ever. And if he gave a little wiggle just there, well, he does that, has a calming little wiggle from time to time, nothing to do with the signs of anybody’s body, surely
I miss summer.