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actually-azi · 8 months

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GOD'S INEFFABLE GAME

I've seen this headcanon/theory here and there and I love it, so I felt the need to lay it all out. Hold on tight, yall.

Everyone knows how perfect Aziraphale and Crowley are for each other. The Angel of the Eastern Gate and the Serpent of Eden, the sword and the snake - they've been drawn together since before the beginning.

The way that these two compliment each other seems almost perfect. They each have what the other one lacks; they challenge and make each other better. It seems a bit... ineffable.

But then, it happens again? (if it happens again, it'll seem like an institutional problem!) Seemingly against all odds, the Grand Duke of Hell and the Supreme Archangel fall in love. Beelzebub and Gabriel, probably the most unlikely pair, end up fitting together so perfectly that they become each other's heaven and hell.

And here's the part where I'm reaching a bit more since I'm leaving what we know to be canon, so take it or leave it. But have you seen the way that Dagon, Lord of the Files, looks at the Archangel Michael? Could it be that they're also ineffably connected? Honestly, I dare you to tell me that they don't seem... smitten.

Next up, we have precious Muriel, 37th Order Scrivener, and "Disposable Demon" Eric. Equally low-ranking but lovable entities whose personalities match so well? Sure, sure, they never even speak or meet (yet!?) so maybe I'm delusional, but I have a strong feeling that these two will end up together. Personally I think they'll be something like a QPR, but who knows. They're just such perfect mirrors of each other, and as we all know, things are always on purpose when it comes to our lord and savior Neil Gaiman.

Even though angels and demons are supposed to be "hereditary enemies", it seems like they all end up liking each other just a little too much to be a matter of chance. We know that there are 10 million angels and 10 million demons... what are the chances that that was an accident? A perfectly even split, by coincidence? Nah. We know that God plays an ineffable game with the universe, and it seems like She might have been in the mood for a romantic comedy. Creating ten million sets of perfectly matched beings, and then putting them on opposite sides, seems like just a thing that God would do for Her own amusement. She's probably sitting back and laughing to Herself, seeing how long it takes Her creations to find their way back to each other.

#good omens #good omens headcanons #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #beelzebub #gabriel #boxfly #ineffable beurocracy #dagon lord of the files #archangel michael #angelfish #ineffable administrators #eric disposable demon #muriel #disposable duo #ineffable juniors #good omens season 2

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palbitie · 1 month

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Who else would give our lord and savior (Neil Gaiman) their firstborn for one of the flashbacks in Good Omens S3 to be Azira and Crowley staying in Stede and Ed’s inn? Just me? Cool

#good omens #ofmd #david tennant #michael sheen #gos3 #taika waititi #rhys darby #aziraphale #crowley #stede bonnet #edward teach

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primalbeatsourhearts · 7 months

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Some Angel!Crowley HC's

Since I can't draw, ya'll are gonna listen to me ramble for a bit. This can either be a reverse omens au or a 'Crowley Returns to Heaven' thing. Whatever works, these are just idea's that I have and they can fit into either or. (If they don't, I'll separate it specifically)

Anyways:

- I have always LOVED the idea of Crowley being Raphael theory. Even tho my fanfics tend to cater to the idea of Angel!Crowley being Lucifer, I know our Lord and Savior Neil Gaiman said he wasn't. So this AU, Crowley is the Arch-Angel Raphael. Yes, Archangel with a Captial A so he's one of the big boi's. (I'll be referring to him as Raphael from now on)

-He is the youngest of all the Archangels. Basically the baby brother but he was actually very close with them. Though he was often in his own head, which resulted in him getting into more trouble than it's worth. That's fine though, everyone is used to his shenanigan's.

-We all know Raphael loved his stars, but we never see just how much. It isn't uncommon to see him cradling a newly born star in his hands, or singing lullabies that can still be heard (not as easily anymore, the noise pollution started drowning out the celestial songs).

-Raphael is also FEIRCLY protective of his stars. He's a relatively peaceful angel, never really made for war. But holy heaven is his wrath terrifying if you ever messed with his babies. He once left Gabriel shaking in his boots and fleeing the scene after a prank went wrong.

-He is an artist by nature and really doesn't do well with desk jobs. He figured out how to sleep before sleeping was even a thing when he started getting assigned paperwork. He swears God got the idea of sleeping from him. Gabriel thinks he shouldn't be as proud of that as he is.

-Speaking of Paperwork, Raphael is absolutely dogshit at it. If he isn't falling asleep while doing it and drooling all over the papers, his handwriting is SO messy that barely anyone can read it. He himself also struggles reading all the fine print and fancy lettering because his eyes are built to handle stars and galaxies. Not little tiny words.

-Doing paperwork got so bad that Raphael had to get an angelic assistant to help him out because he hated it so bad. The assistant often followed him around, reading out the paperwork as Raphael worked on whatever project he had at the time. This worked a lot better for all parties involved.

-Raphael and Lucifer often got into a LOT of mischief. They especially loved messing with Michael and Gabriel. Though neither of them liked Sandalphon at all, so he got the brunt of a lot of their harsher pranks. Raphael became especially menacing when he heard Sanalphon talking shit about one of his newly designed Nebula's.

-Raphael was never cruel to lower angels, in fact he was often quite kind to them. However, he often didn't notice them in the first place unless he genuinely needed something. He was often lost in his own head, imagining all sorts of future projects that he could work on. He would sometimes disrupt the conversation cause he came up with something, and would just leave in the middle of talking to anyone. -Though he did this with everyone, so no one took it to heart. Though they were quite surprised when someone saw him doing it to God too.

-When he does get into a conversation however, he is surprisingly snarky. You cannot count how many times he whispered something underneath his breath during one of the Archangel meetings that left Lucifer cackling in his seat.

-Once Raphael discovered fashion, that boy LOVED it. He loves wearing pure white, and especially having gold on his attire. He says it really brings out his red hair.

-His hair is also almost always long, he really loved the feeling of it and he found brushing it became a really soothing feeling to him. Though he wears it in so many different hairstyles that you'll never see the same thing twice a week.

-Raphael invented snakes and loves them dearly. So he often has snake memorabilia, and even has a large golden snake tattoo that crawls across his body.

-Raphael's eyes are very golden, and while he mostly stays in heaven, he still very much enjoys wearing sunglasses cause he likes the way they make him look. Plus it also helps hide his eyes when he's not paying attention to something.

-In the more recent years, Raphael is still in charge for tending and carrying for the skies and stars, but there comes a point where he can only do so much. So he asked if he could work somewhere else and now helps the angels paint the sunset/sunrise. So his clothing, face, and hands are almost always covered in pain but he very loves his work.

-Raphael's office is COVERED in plants. This boy loves his plants so much that he actively takes care of them in heaven and will even visit Heaven's nursery's to help nurture the plants before they are sent down to earth to grow.

-Speaking of Raphael's office, it is also covered in actual matter. Nothing is miracled as he much prefers the actual objects then the spawned in versions. Yes, he had a hard time fitting the desk in the elevator.

-Raphael is often brimming with questions and will NOT hesitate to ask them. He would annoy Gabriel, Michael, Lucifer or anyone he could get his hands on when he asked questions. Though in return, he will never fault anyone else asking questions. He will be honest in saying he doesn't know, if he doesn't know the answer.

-(Reverse Omens) Raphael thinks Unicorns are the coolest things in the world and will spend a lot of time with them. He was devastated to find out their demise on earth after the flood, and almost raged at God for that. He held his tongue.

-Being the angel of healing, Raphael has also been tasked with helping people heal. In the war, that is mostly what he focused on. He was an artist, not a fighter. Though he focused on healing both sides because he couldn't understand why everyone was hurting each other. Suffering never made sense to him.

-Raphael loved the concept of gender, and often changes between them a lot. Then the concept of the LGBTQ came out, and he loved it even more! Even if his permanent station isn't on earth, he LOVES going to Pride Parades whenever he can.

-(Reverse Omens) How he met the demon Azira was a long time ago, after he was assigned to painting. He grew curious of earth after finishing up a Sunrise, and decided to check it out. He met Azira and at first he was wary, but the demon's kindness and willingness to anwser questions made him stick around. Especially once Azira started showing him around. -Now him and Aizra meet as much as they can, but they do have jobs and are quite busy with their work. That is until the apocolypse and it meant no more sunrises or sunsets. No more plants, or animals, or fascinating humans or kids. Raphael didn't step up, all those millenium ago when the Great War happen. He'll step up now. Especially since his stars were also in danger of falling. Though he doesn't understand why the demon is so hesitant.

-(Crowley Goes with Aziraphale AU) Raphael wasn't really what Aziraphale expected when he took Crowley up to heaven with him. He knew him only for those few precious moments he had, but he also forgot just how spacey Raphael was. How he utterly detested being in charge. How mishevious he was. How little he cared about paperwork and would rather fly off with his stars. Aziraphale didn't realize how much the angel changed when he became a demon and he found himself wanting Crowley back.

---------------- Am done for now! I may come back with a part 2 if I have more idea's but anyways I hope ya'll enjoyed the word vomit I spat onto you all :D

#good omens #good omens headcanons #angel crowley #crowley was raphael #reverse omens #crowley

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spiderbae2319 · 6 months

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All of us after Season 2:

“I am disgusted, I am revolted. I dedicate my life to our lord and savior Neil Gaiman and this is the thanks I get?!”

#azirowley #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #crowly x aziraphale #neil gaiman #good omens season 2 #angst #i’m in agony

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floworence · 9 months

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I love our lord and savior Neil Gaiman but I fucking knew to not trust him when he said "gentle and romantic". With those two drama queens as main characters?!?! IN THIS ECONOMY?!?!??

#good omens #im in shambles #crying nonstop since i finished e6 #Mr.Gaiman I love you but I'm sad and mad at u rn #going thru all stages of grief #this fucked me up bad #good omens season 2

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vulpine-spectacle · 2 days

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Still on the previous chapter. I'm fascinated by your version of "baby would you love me if I was a worm?"

Eurydice: baby

feyd: yeah

Eurydice: would you love me if I were a worm?

feyd: yes

Eurydice: but what if I were a violent, bloodthirsty worm?

Feyd: I would love even more

Eurydice: okay 😊🥰

Noo noo the bene bitches want to secure another part of the lineage by seducing feyd!! 😱 rooting for Eurydice to tear up these crazy women and have sex on top of their bodies. Why not? 🤷‍♀️💅🏽

I'm loving how the story unfolds. Feyd taking the reins and keeping some secrets for himself it's awesome 🤌🏽 and Eurydice enjoying the moment of mourning for Nuala, I think our girl deserves it 🙏🏽

(still intrigued by feyd's dream about her and her son dying or in danger 👀 tf do you mean garll?)

Xoxo 😘😘😘

Eurydice poking Feyd awake at night with the big questions, let's be real.

Eurydice: I committed war crimes. Feyd: *actively figuring out how to get her pregnant again*

I am positively delighted by the assumptions throughout the comments that the intention is to seduce Feyd. ;) The Bene Gesserit certainly have a great deal at play. They've got their plans within plans rolling around. These plans concern Feyd...but there is another player. ;) ( also Feyd is currently doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out how to convince Eurydice that having sex on bodies is a great idea, actually, so good job. )

I am so glad you like Feyd keeping secrets of his own!! That was such a moment to write, and one that I feel very strongly about. Even though they've had their version of a confession and they have history together, Feyd still doesn't 100% trust her...and he's insecure ( though he'd never admit it ) over the idea of losing her. So he's doing what he can. >:) He's being a Harkonnen.

( ... ;) in the words of our lord and savior Neil Gaiman, wait and see. )

Much love to you, my lovely!! <333

#fire-treasure-iii #answered.

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thediamondarcher · 7 months

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have you by any chance watched or read good omens

i’m clinically insane about it rn i feel like a proselytizer trying to spread the message of our lord and savior neil gaiman i need help lmao

i didn't even know that it has books lol, i have the show on my list but I'll probably read the books before watching the show.

I've heard good things about it but my mom said it might be boring for me

#thediamondarcher #good omens #answering asks

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crystal963 · 9 months

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Good Omens season 2's 5 stages of grief:

Denial: "Haha, Aziraphale is going to have to do such a long apology dance"

Anger: "I hate *insert Aziraphale, Metatron, God, or our lord and savior Neil Gaiman* so much"

Bargaining: Coffee theory and fanfics/fanart

Depression: Constant rewatch and dragging others into the fandom for season 3 (plus constant crying)

Acceptance: ?????

#good omens season 2 #i personally dont like the coffee theory but oh well

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bearded-darth-maul · 2 years

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Not to disagree with our lord and savior Neil Gaiman or anything, but god I hate Killer Queen by Queen. Literally the worst song ever

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morpheuslikestodream · 3 years

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PUCKER: a Sandman Universe fanfic

*The following is extended and lifted from the Sandman: Seasons of Mist storyline. This is a mere writing exercise and honorary gesture to play within the confines of the world created by Neil Gaiman and all creators, with honor and respect. :)

There was a woman who achieved glory upon a vent of gushing air. Of course, she had already gained fame, and fortune, but it was the image, the stance – legs slightly bent, knees inverted, arms locked and hands clasping her dress – that cemented itself in the collective. Poor, tragic Marilyn, her fists securing that white ivory cocktail dress as it danced in the wind, like a skinned swan or a hungry lily attempting to devour its host.

Go on. Visualize it. The dress and the damsel wed together over that gushing vent. She would always be tattooed in the eye of your mind, a girl symbol, caught in a flirtatious up-shoot of tragedy. You’ll see her, the image, in commercials and magazines and the chronicles of filmography. She’ll be immortalized in wax. You’ll smile at her as if she were an intimate friend or fond crush from a bygone youth or a pretty face you wish you had, all fulfilled vicariously in that bombshell visage.

And if you could envision her, so could they.

“The gods have come for you,” Susano O-No-Mikoto addressed her coldly, like an art collector attaining their next commission. His hair was black, pulled back into a bun, and he possessed a thin, wispy beard that sharpened into a point. He wore a scarlet robe, delicate and silky, and his eyes, which scrutinized her with an impersonal fondness, appeared to be of some Asian nationality. “As a private individual for the pantheon of my mother, the Queen Izanami, it is a grace, Miss Monroe, to be welcomed into our collection. There is a special wing that exclusively houses Americana and Western iconography.”

Marilyn didn’t understand any of this.

And she couldn’t speak, her mouth failed to beg for clarity. It was the lips, frozen, puckered lips. And the wind, blowing perpetually beneath her, danced her dress like a rabid beast. While the robed man continued, Marilyn’s focus was consumed by the dress, and here she had to convince herself she was more than this accoutrement.

“Come. Follow,” said the god. And while he spoke, she strived to recall who she was. She had entered the world as a woman, yes, and she had taken her grand exit as a star, in the same City of Angels. She had been an actress, the wife of a playwright and a baseball legend and maybe mistress to dead presidents. She was a person, goddammit, of flesh and blood, of rumor and glamor.

None of that mattered at the moment, not in her current situation.

Because Marilyn couldn’t move. She had tried. She really had, but her body refused to budge. She was alive, or she was dead. She was on-stage, or off. There were cameras in the shadows and spotlights from oblivion. Eyes in the flashes of light. And she couldn’t move because, again, her legs were bent, the knobs of her knees pressed together, arms rigid, hands taming the white bastard dress, and that cold, cold air licking her from underneath.

And lips, puckered.

Marilyn felt no trace of self here – wherever here was. Had she died? Was she being punished, because your savior was revoked if you did that act, even if that wasn’t for certain? Whatever had happened had stolen her humanity. Marilyn might have been a wax statue, a fixed caricature, someone’s midnight wank. And perhaps all those were true; after all, she was an icon now, and icons could be many things. Despite that, whoever they were now cared nothing of the personal touches, no, the gods regarded her as a pretty face in the American collective. That’s what mattered.

Puckered lips.

Susano O-No-Mikoto escorted her through his mother’s underworld, strange halls cluttered with armors and museum props. She spotted a display of a toilet that perhaps once sat the rear of a king. In his rambling, he used words like eclectic and hybridization and efficiency. His words were bloated with pride, like an uppity hunter who sought and attained the rarest treasures. But those words meant nothing to Marilyn. She still hadn’t forgotten the kind visage of the woman with raven black hair with the shadow filled with the flapping of wings in flight.

“…we hope to continue down this line,” continued the god, “acquiring you, we can acquire others. John F. Kennedy is in Hell. But his effigy is strong in the artifacts of his demise. Lee Harvey Oswald could be ours. The grassy knoll itself harbors a sentience all its own as well. The prospects of our ambitions are limitless. It is said…”

And when Marilyn refocused, Susano had stopped to inspect her, his breath – scented with the promise of storms – was cold and brutal, and a pointy finger tapped his lips, the vaguest hint of a smile on his arrogant face. She felt no love from him, no real love. Not like the love Jesus and the Lord promised her as she grew. And she had been a good person; she deserved better than to not have love. And yet the man, who might’ve been a god, cared nothing for her as the person. He only desired the spirit of what she was. But a transcendence within a certain collective didn’t change her stature. It wasn’t her. All the little details of who she was were sprinklings upon a personal mythology that only bred the impersonal. The world, cultures come and gone, could only see her in the stars.

And as for the little details, did those matter?

No, not to him.

And then he was gone.

When Marilyn was alone, “They have you too,” rumbled a deep and heavy voice from the room. “You are beautiful, as I was, although you are not as beautiful as the one I carried to the top of the world.”

Marilyn winced, startled.

“Be still, woman. We are family now, and I will protect you if I must. If I can.”

“Where am I?” Marilyn piped.

“The assimilation of the American Pantheon. The Underworld. Hell. Who can know for sure?”

“Who are you?” Her voice trembled. “Who’s there?”

“You remind me of her,” said the deep voice.

“Of her? Who?”

“You look like her, in your fashion, a pair of eyes and pretty hair. The one I carried to the top of the world. I was king there, before I fell, before I was forced to fall, although I confess I attained immortality in that moment, I think. At least, I’d like to look at it that way. The tragedy, the descent.”

“Are…are you…the devil?” Marilyn stammered.

Ignoring her, “They can fear you and love you and cry for you. When the tears are shed is when we become idols.”

She needed to see the face. She had to. “Oh, Mister,” she pleaded, “please come forward.”

And the beast revealed itself.

Marilyn would’ve screamed if her lips were puckered, if they could ever alter. Her frozen stance did not permit. Instead the dress blew more frantically. * “I must take my absence. Opportunities abroad bless us. The gods of Nippon and her highest majesty, the Queen, my mother Izanami, must not squander the chance in attaining most fruitful grace. If the key belongs to our kingdom…” the Asian man in his fancy gowns who smelled like a thunderstorm or a coming rain shower departed from the room through an entrance that didn’t really exist. In the silence of an attic filled with antiques from Atlantis or Wall Street or Hollywood, the white-haired star with her puckered lips kept her gaze down, until sheepishly she dared to lock eyes with the gorilla. And the gorilla rested his black hands upon his massive ape pecs and exhaled forcefully from nostrils that flared out in angst and boredom.

“I would have found the stars,” King Kong said after some time.

Marilyn raised an eyebrow, oh?

“I could have climbed forever.” Kong drummed his fingers on his chest. “It wasn’t me who was limited; it was only the ladder in which I ascended. Just me and her, the one that wasn’t you. I would’ve reached for the moon, then the stars themselves, and whatever is above that. I was limited by them, because a monster could only ascend so far and then they fall, and then they love you. In death you gain humanity; a posthumous flavor of idolatry and what you represented. You become your fall because that’s how people remember you. Not the details. It’s all what you could have been; all the what-ifs. And that’s how a star is born. That’s how idols rise.”

And the gorilla was done then, crossing its arms, and saying no more. In the silence, Marilyn felt a quiver in her lip, a tear in the corner of her eye. If she could unpucker her lips she would’ve smiled fondly at the beast and his words. After some time she glided towards him, her hungry frilly dress shooting up around her, and she moved next to him and the two touched, so slightly. Time faded then. It came in and out in waves and blurs. And sometime a hole opened in the world and a vast shadow filled the space for a moment. The sound of wings beat around them.

“Hey, down there!” called a perky voice that was kind, yet filled with urgency. “Things are a mess around here. It’s a Hell thing. Anyway,” the girl trailed, “I’ve got lots of work, you know, and, well, if you wanted to perhaps transition in a sense, I’m here. I’ll always be here, even if I’m not. Ok? But the doors open. Mister O-No-Mikoto’s dreams of attaining Hell are dead. I took them when the fiery torch was passed on to another pair of angels. And besides the mighty storm god of Nippon is in a bit of a predicament. Sorry. Talking too much.” Like that she was gone.

After a moment, hesitantly, King Kong moved to his feet. He climbed the walls and reached towards the ceiling exit. And before he departed, he looked towards her. “Come. You are not her but I can carry you to the top of the world, again.” And he took Marilyn in his grip and they ascended together towards the stars. “The winds are on your side,” said the King, “and he was a god of storms. Perhaps there’s irony in that. Or perhaps we shall rise as high as the gods allow.”

#neil gaiman #Sandman #sandman universe #vertigo #fiction #creative writing #mythology #books #fanfic #fantasy #fables #Fable Unbound

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