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esthermitchell-author · 6 months

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"Risen To Grace" (A Fan Fiction Based on Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett)

Western Front -- December 24, 1914

Could there be anything more miserable than a trench in the middle of the -- pardon the pun -- godforsaken winter? Crowley grimaced, rubbing his arms with chilled hands. He hadn't been warm in days, and he hated the cold with everything in him. He'd never minded it all that much, before. Now, he loathed it to his very bones.

"Never fucking doing this again," he muttered to himself. He shouldn't even be here. Wouldn't be, either, but he heard whispers Hell was sending Hastur to "deal with" some potential threat to Hell's big plans for the war, and Crowley got a very familiar, sinking feeling. Somewhere, out here in the trenches, was an angel who didn't belong here any more than tits belonged on a frog.

An angel who probably thought he could stop the whole war, single-handedly, and was going to get himself very inconveniently discorporated for his trouble.

"Oh, angel, what am I going to do with you?" Crowley muttered to the empty air, then swore under his breath. His human contact, who claimed he might know where to find someone matching Aziraphale's description, was a week late in getting to their rendezvous point here on the Western Front. If the bastard didn't show up in the next three minutes, Crowley was going to demonically intervene his arse straight into Hell and let them sort out whether or not he belonged there. Would serve the lot of them right.

"Captain Crowley!" He turned at the hail, to find his human contact -- a sergeant in the British army named Young -- hurrying toward him. "I found him, sir!"

Finally. Angel, you are in so much trouble. "Where is he?"

Sergeant Young frowned in worry. "May I ask what you want with him, sir? From what I hear tell, he's kept the better part of the First Battalion alive, almost single-handedly. They call him the Angel of the Bois de Ploegsteert, over that way."

"Of course they do," Crowley muttered, rolling his eyes behind his dark glasses. His angel was supposed to be tucked away safe-and-sound in his bookshop in Soho, not out on the front lines, in the trenches of the war to end all wars. To Young, he replied, "My business with him is none of yours. Now, where's he at?"

Sergeant Young looked worried, still, but shrugged and didn't question him further, turning to lead Crowley down the trenches toward an angel who was in a Heaven of a lot of trouble.

--------------

By the time they reached the trenches occupied by the 1st Battalion of the Royal Warwickshire Regiment, night was falling hard, and the dark sky was littered with bright pinpoints of stars. Crowley tipped his head back to gaze up at them, letting their distant light bathe a part of himself he rarely acknowledged. He always liked looking up at the stars. They were reminders that he hadn't always felt chained to a bottomless pit.

"Hello, my lovelies," he whispered to them, now, and swore he could still hear their twinkling song, even though he knew that was just a whisper of memory. God hadn't let him hear his stars since he fell.

"What's that, sir?" Sergeant Young inquired, breaking his communion with the stars.

Crowley shook himself and turned his attention back to the human who stood there, now looking thoroughly confused.

"Nothing," he hissed. "Now, where's he at?"

"Doc Fell's CCS is over there." Young pointed toward a tent set back a little way from the main trenches.

"Right." Crowley started toward the Casualty Clearing Station set up in a canvas tent hidden behind woodland shrubs, then realized Young was keeping step with him. Oh, right. "You're dismissed, Sergeant."

The man fell back with a relieved expression and headed back the way they'd come originally. He seemed a decent enough human. Crowley briefly wished him well in surviving the war. Himself, he had an angel to rescue.

Ducking into the tent, the first thing Crowley was hit with was the noxious odor of death, blood, and disease. Satan preserve him, it was like being in the plague-ridden streets of London during the 14th Century, all over again. Crowley grimaced. He really didn't like the 14th Century, or any reminders of it. In fact, he wished heartily that he'd chosen to sleep through it.

"Oh, be a dear and put him over there. I'm afraid my hands are rather full at the moment." The familiar voice reached Crowley even above the other din of the sick and dying, and those attending to them. He'd pick up that voice anywhere, no matter the noise around it, and he wasn't about to start considering what that meant.

Clamping a hand across his mouth and nose against the putrid smell of the place, Crowley made his way down the row of stretchers, until he caught sight of a curly shock of white-blond hair.

"Here you are. Do you know, I've been looking all over the Western Front for you?"

Aziraphale looked up from the human on the stretcher, his cerulean eyes full of surprise. His hand remained clamped against the shoulder of the man, holding a folded wad of bandage against what must be a pretty severe wound, given how fast that bandage was turning red.

"Crowley! I haven't seen you in forever. What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Aren't you supposed to be minding your bookshop?" Irritation and concern twisted together in Crowley's chest and made their way into his voice.

"It's temporarily closed," Aziraphale explained, his attention back on his patient.

"Closed."

"Temporarily."

"While you..."

"Do what I can to stem the loss of life." He sounded sad, and tired. As if what he'd already seen of this war drained away some of his light.

No. No, angel. I won't let you do this to yourself. But what could he do, really? His angel was a healer. He couldn't turn away from someone in need any more than Crowley could contain his endless supply of questions. Besides, last time they saw each other, Aziraphale told him he never wanted to see him again. No doubt, he wasn't going to feel any more charitable once he found out why Crowley tracked him down, again.

"Angel..."

Aziraphale discarded the bloody cloth into a basin of already bloody water, and pressed another to the wound, then glanced toward a young man passing by. "Bring me sutures."

The man -- really, little more than a boy -- nodded and rushed away. Aziraphale turned back to the man now moaning in pain on the stretcher, his voice gentle and full of so much kindness as he murmured, "I know it hurts. I'm sorry. I'm going to try to fix it."

Crowley didn't ask why Aziraphale didn't just miracle the wound away. He already knew. They'd been through this. The night wee Moraig was killed by the grave gun, in Edinburgh. If Aziraphale went around miracling away the wounds of an entire war, not only would he no doubt overextend himself, but Heaven would certainly have something to say about it. Still, the gaunt hollows of his face... Crowley tried again, his voice softer with painful understanding.

"Aziraphale."

This time, the angel turned to look at him. The pain, and the brimming of tears in those beautiful, cerulean eyes, nearly broke Crowley. This was worse than when wee Moraig died. Worse than watching the Roman soldiers kill his only human friend for no reason than Jesus asked people to be kind to each other. The sight of tears -- frustration, grief, and pain -- swelling in Aziraphale's eyes sent a frothing hatred through Crowley for this entire fucking war.

A hatred he could do nothing about. He didn't have the power to stop an entire war any more than Aziraphale had the power to heal one. He opened his mouth -- to say what, he wasn't sure, but it didn't matter. Before he could say anything, the young stretcher-bearer was back with a suture kit, and Aziraphale had turned away, back to the business of saving a life.

"Crowley, please hold his legs down. This is going to hurt, but I don't have the time to numb it proper. He's already lost too much blood."

The demon didn't even think twice about complying with the instruction. Aziraphale had asked him for help, and if this was the only way he could help... He clamped his hands onto the wounded soldier's ankles and pressed them into the stretcher, watching as Aziraphale withdrew a needle from the pack, measured out suture, and began to painstakingly stitch the soldier's shoulder back together. The sound of the wounded man's screams as Aziraphale worked quickly to mend his shoulder would forever be imprinted in Crowley's mind as he and the stretcher-bearer kept the man from thrashing against the necessary cruelty of the angel's stitching.

Once the man's shoulder was stitched and the wound properly bandaged, Aziraphale nodded Crowley away from the whimpering man and stepped around the stretcher, with a murmured instruction to the stretcher-bearer, "Give him some morphine, and get him on the first cart to a base hospital. His war's over."

Crowley followed the angel as he headed for the other end of the tent, where he poured clean water into a basin and washed his hands thoroughly. The whole time, Crowley watched. He watched humans bleed all over the place, watched them writhe in agony, watched when one of the attending medical personnel shook their heads and covered yet another body. And the whole time, he watched Aziraphale, as well. Watched his soft, sweet angel look as if the weight of the entire world rested on his shoulders, as if he was an inch from breaking down, but determined to make a difference.

There wasn't even a shadow of the soft, hopeful angel who believed in magic, or the goodness of people, in the lines currently road-mapping pain and weariness across the angel's face.

"What did you say you were here for?" Aziraphale inquired, before flashing him a tired smile Crowley knew was meant to cover everything he already read on the angel's face. "It's lovely to see you again, by the way. I haven't seen you since..."

"Let's not talk about that, angel." Crowley looked away, his voice hoarse in spite of his effort to sound normal. He didn't want to think about their last meeting. It hadn't gone the way he'd thought. Instead of getting the holy water he'd wanted to have on hand if Hell came knocking, he'd only managed to alienate his angel. So he'd gone to sleep. For the entire rest of the century.

It seemed the most appropriate response to the situation, at the time. Now, he wasn't so sure. He should have been prepared for this, prepared to talk Aziraphale out of getting involved. But he hadn't been, and instead, not only had humanity dragged his angel into the middle of their attempts to destroy themselves, but Aziraphale had gone and put himself on Hell's radar in the process. He cleared his throat and tried to sound bored. "I got wind of a big problem, headed your way."

That tired smile turned wry. "They're all big problems, around here."

"Not this kind." Crowley glanced around, making sure no one was listening, and dropped his voice to a quiet hiss as he said, "The Hell kind. Hastur's looking for you."

"Me?" Aziraphale sounded baffled. "Why on earth would Hastur be looking for me?"

"You're mucking about with Hell's plans. Apparently, there's some big plan attached to this war, and you hanging about, healing people, has the Dark Council frothing at the mouth for your blood. I heard Hastur is supposed to eliminate you."

Aziraphale was quiet as he dried his hands. Looking down at his blood-spattered clothes, he suddenly murmured, "Their lives are so fragile, but they're so willing to give them up to keep others safe."

"Angel..."

"I'm tired of patching endless wounds. It's Christmas Eve, you know."

Crowley's brow furrowed. Something about Aziraphale's tone disquieted him. The angel wasn't even acknowledging the danger he faced. His eyes had that faraway glaze they got whenever he was concocting some incomprehensible while simultaneously dramatic plan to do good. "Yeah."

Aziraphale's attention turned his way, and Crowley wasn't sure if he was relieved to see the twinkle of light-hearted mischief back in those cerulean eyes, or worried as all fuck that his angel was about to do something terrifyingly dangerous to his own health. "Maybe there's something I can do to help them. Even if just for a bit."

"Angel, we don't have time for--"

But Aziraphale wasn't listening, already striding purposefully toward the medical tent's flap.

"Shit," Crowley muttered under his breath, taking off after his angel. He did not like the tone of Aziraphale's voice, or the determined set of his face.

Out behind the medical tent, Crowley stopped dead, a terrified chill washing over him as he watched Aziraphale's forehead begin to glow.

"Angel, no." He tried to scream it, but his horror wouldn't let his voice climb above a disbelieving whisper. "You can't."

"Nonsense." Aziraphale's voice was strained, but his expression was resolved, as he slowly slid the brightly glowing corporeal representation of his halo from his head, wincing in pain as he did. Crowley turned his gaze away, both because the gleam of the halo was like being stabbed in the eyes -- even with his shades on -- and because the pain on Aziraphale's face made him want to beg him to stop, and he knew the angel wouldn't.

Glancing Aziraphale's way again, he saw the angel mouth words over the halo, then release it with a light toss into the air, letting it float upward through the night sky until it bathed the entirety of No Man's Land in soft, angelic light -- twinkling like a bright star.

"Aziraphale," Crowley choked out, fear lodged in his throat. "What the Heaven do you think you're doing?"

A peaceful smile slid over Aziraphale's face, and his blue eyes gleamed like the stars as they turned his way. "Wait and see."

Wait and see? He already bloody knew what Aziraphale just did -- they both did. An angel blowing up their halo was tantamount to a declaration of war against Hell. Mostly because angels only blew up a corporeal manifestation of their halos in the presence of overwhelming demonic odds. But still...

"Angel, have you lost whatever--" Before Crowley could finish the thought, the corporeal manifestation of Aziraphale's halo burned out and crumbled from the sky in what looked like a shower of twinkling starlight. Then, out of the dark hush that fell in its wake, came a deep voice, singing in German. Silent Night. A bloody Christmas carol. On the battlefield.

Soon, other voices joined it. Then, with a start, Crowley realized one of the voices was singing in English. The singing was now coming from their side of the field, as well. Really close, too.

"What the Heaven...?"

"Exactly," Aziraphale murmured from next to him. "A gift. From Heaven."

In less time than it took to start the whole fucking war, men on both sides were singing. Then they started calling out to one another, across the span of No Man's Land. As Crowley watched in stunned amazement, men began climbing out of their trenches on both sides, crossing to meet in the middle of the barbed-wire laden No Man's Land, shaking hands and talking, laughing. Pretty soon, they were improvising gifts out of whatever they had on hand, and someone had organized an impromptu soccer game in a clear patch of ground.

Crowley whirled toward Aziraphale, unable to contain the shock running rampant through him any longer. "I thought... How did you do that?"

Aziraphale merely smiled. "There's more than one way to blow up a halo, dear boy. In the presence of demons, it's an act of war. But with a little grace, we can all rise above what blinds us. Merry Christmas, Crowley."

Crowley's shock melted away, and he threw his head back and laughed. Why the Heaven was he even surprised? This was Aziraphale. There wasn't a being in all of existence capable of more grace, or more love for humanity, than his angel.

******

A.Z. Fell and Co Bookshop, Soho, London -- 1941

Crowley studied the wine sloshing in his glass as he swirled it around. It was a good year, but he couldn't get the color -- like blood -- out of his mind, tonight. Nearly losing Aziraphale twice, after realizing just how much and why that was an unacceptable risk, had him contemplative. Knowing his angel risked exposure to help the likes of him tonight sent a softness through him he wasn't sure how to deal with. Combined with the wine in his glass reminding him of blood, he couldn't help thinking about the war out there, around them. That brought to mind the last war -- "The war to end all wars" they'd called it. Yet, far too soon, the humans found a new and terrible way to kill one another.

"Can you believe we're back here, again?" He muttered to Aziraphale, not looking up from his wine.

The angel made a small sound of confusion. "We always drink here. It's safer."

"Not the bookshop," Crowley hissed, shaking his head before taking a drink. The alcohol did its familiar burn. He barely felt it, anymore. "War. You'd think they got all that killing out of their system, last time. Instead, they just keep finding newer, more effective ways to kill each other."

"Crowley..."

He glanced up, letting his gaze burrow into the beautiful blue eyes of his angel. They were so calm, so happy, now. But he could still remember a time they'd been filled with tears, teetering on the brink of destruction. He took another, larger drink, trying to burn away the memory. It wouldn't go. Finally, he rasped, "Remember Christmas, 1914?"

Aziraphale's smile faltered for just a second. "The Christmas Truce. Yes."

"You blew up your halo for that. Risky, angel. That's what it was." He'd nearly discorporated on the spot when he realized what Aziraphale intended. Of course, he'd thought the angel was blowing up No Man's Land, maybe to prove a point to the humans that they were a bunch of idiots for running around doing their best to off each other, or just generally declaring war on Hell. He hadn't known a halo could be used to create peace, too.

Crowley shuddered at the familiar taste of fear, and chided, "You could have set off a war between Heaven and Hell, you know."

Aziraphale smiled indulgently at him. "Don't be silly. I knew exactly what I was doing. Besides, you were the only demon there, and you weren't going to tell anyone."

Crowley chuckled in truth, warmth flowing through him in a heady rush at the absolute trust in his angel's voice. The humans didn't have it half right.

Some things really were worth dying for.

******

A.Z. Fell and Co Bookshop, Soho, London -- December After Thwarting Second Coming

Aziraphale hummed a Christmas carol to himself as he finished winding a long strand of tinsel and tiny colored lights down the banister and attached it carefully to the wrought iron with a little tap of his fingertips against the decoration.

He loved Christmas. Not just that it represented Jesus' first arrival on Earth all those centuries ago, but the peace and goodwill it fostered in humans. The bright colors, the beautiful carols, so full of hope and happiness, and joy. The decorations, and togetherness.

He drew in a deep breath and his smile widened. And the food. He loved the food, of course. Right now, the whole shop smelled of the mulled cider, hot chocolate, and freshly baked cookies he'd made for the party he'd planned. Now, he just needed to get the invitations out...

"For Satan's sake," groaned a familiar voice from behind him. "Angel, you promised..."

Aziraphale turned, casting a gleeful, loving glance at the demon who stood paused with his hand hanging in midair over the horse sculpture on the front counter, dark glasses held loosely in his long fingers as he stared in a blend of horror and disbelieving amusement at the ten-foot tall tree, studded with a mish-mash of ornaments Aziraphale had collected over the past two hundred years since Christmas trees became a thing people did.

"It's tradition!"

"So's riding a blessed camel across the desert to give a baby useless shit he won't ever actually get to use., but you don't see me rushing out to rent camels, do you?"

Aziraphale huffed out a sigh that was one part annoyance and three parts pure indulgence. He couldn't stay mad at Crowley when he was like this. His lovely demon still struggled with the concept it was okay to just enjoy holidays. He didn't take it personally. He knew Crowley preferred to pretend he was annoyed by or bored with everything, instead. Aziraphale saw the little sparkles of happiness in Crowley's eyes -- as blinding as starlight -- and knew his demon got far more enjoyment out of pretending to dislike things while indulging Aziraphale's utter abandonment to the joy of every human experience.

"Here." He retrieved the box of invitations he'd spent yesterday evening writing up from the desk and dropped them in Crowley's hands. "If you're going to carp, make yourself useful and deliver these. Then you don't have to look at the decorations."

"Better idea." Crowley dropped the box casually on the table beside himself and, before Aziraphale could protest the misuse of stationary, Crowley had him wrapped up in long, strong arms, his mouth making soft, heated passes over Aziraphale's, sinking deeper with each pass. Aziraphale wasn't about to deny him. He leaned into the kiss, one hand clutching the demon's side, the other winding around his neck to burrow in silky strands of collar-length red hair.

Aziraphale lost all track of time, lost awareness of everything except Crowley, until a voice somewhere in the background finally drew his attention. Easing from the kiss, he caught the smug smirk on Crowley's lips and the devilish gleam in his eyes. Flushing happily, he turned his attention to their visitor, and was immediately flustered by the sight of the angel standing there.

"Oh. M-Muriel. What brings you here?" He fought the old, ingrained urge to flinch away from Crowley's touch in the presence of another angel as the demon practically draped himself over Aziraphale's shoulders in what had become a familiar arrangement over the months since they reunited -- one of Crowley's arms draped over one of his shoulders, and Crowley's head resting on his other shoulder. Currently, the latter involved Crowley nuzzling at his neck and jaw.

Muriel, for their part, seemed utterly oblivious to the display, beaming at the two of them before hurrying toward the tree, practically squealing over each of the ornaments. "Oh, they're amazing! You have so many! I didn't expect this many!"

"Told you, he's been collecting them for centuries." Crowley left off his teasing nuzzles to call after Muriel.

Aziraphale watched them in consternation for a moment, then whispered to Crowley, "How does Muriel know I put up the tree today?"

Crowley shrugged and sighed as he straightened. "I told them, angel."

"How?"

"Not now. Months ago -- while you were gone."

Aziraphale flinched at the reminder, biting down on the instinct to apologize again. He'd apologized so often, now, and Crowley long since told him to stop apologizing, that they were good, and he didn't need to feel guilty. Still, he couldn't help the soft, dismayed sound that left him.

"Angel, don't," Crowley murmured, nipping his ear and nuzzling the side of his head. "It's just an explanation, okay? Muriel called me one time. They were reading something and didn't know what Christmas was. I told them I was the wrong person to ask, but that you always decorate the shop around this time every year." Crowley sighed, then. "Sorry. I forgot all about it, 'til now."

Aziraphale smiled softly, reaching out to smooth his hand over Crowley's chest in a light caress. "No apology necessary, love. You did just the right thing. Like always."

With that reassurance, he moved toward where Muriel stood, holding a small ornament that looked like a cobbled-together boat, made out of an unused bullet. Their expression was perplexed as they looked up at Aziraphale. "I don't understand what this is supposed to be, Mr. Fell. What is it?"

Aziraphale took the small ornament from Muriel's hand and felt a sad smile tug at his lips. "This was a very special gift, from a time when war ravaged the world, but for one Christmas Eve night, there was peace and brotherhood among men..."

He heard the front door open and close, and knew Crowley was off to deliver the holiday invitations. Aziraphale's smile widened as he recounted the events of that night over a hundred years ago, when an angel and a demon brought peace to an embattled humanity, if only for a little while.

It was, after all, his favorite Christmas story of all, if for no other reason than it was one of a very few he got to spend with his beloved demon. He was looking forward to many, many more.

THE END

#good omens #good omens fandom #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #azicrow #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #ineffable spouses #crowley #fanfic #go fanfic

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mostspecialgirl · 2 months

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the flg redesigns could not be going better

meaningless oc rambling and doodles below the cut

recently i’ve found myself slowly latching back onto flg with the thread of hastur sr. and achelo becoming planeswalkers after the main story. i’ve always planned on achelo working under dana in hundred nights, but with the more recent recontextualization of the kailash clan (in regards to the connection of the ancients to nyarlathotep) it’s only right that hastur sr. joins him. as such, now i’m kind of just thinking about everyone again.

since nobody really got to watch or read FLG while Rough Copy and its adaptation were floating around on the net, i can really overwrite whatever i want. chaos galaron, my sweet (deceased) baby is no longer titled Cosmic Devil, but i’ve chosen to have him be “Spacecreep” because if he’s a vintage supervillain, he deserves a name befitting of such. i think his new design was a swing and a home run. i’ve kept what was important about his original design while drawing him closer to nepenth’s (his nephew) redesign. it’s the perfect middle, and is better than the old one by leagues. so good i’m reconsidering killing him off, but that would completely undermine nepenth’s awesome character arc.

i’m thinking of having nepenth initially inheriting the name of spacecreep (like in the original story) but inevitably becoming 'cosmic devil' when he grows into his own.

but speaking of names, i think the name of “TBA” the actual fucking main antagonist of the story, the one i’ve labored over and thought about for literal years of my life, the one who this whole time had simply been named “To Be Announced”….. i think i’m going to give him the hero name of Mankind. it fits for everything his character is! so that is what it shall be! adding the blue to his outfit was a genius move on my part because if you invert it…. you get hastur sr’s yellow

R.I.P THE RED CAPE OF JUSTICE 💔 you will not particularly be missed

mr. “wave king” reaper also got a minor redesign, though, most of his old design isn’t visible here. i think his new face structure suits him well, and helps him deviate from my multitude of skull faced OC’s. also present in this doodle is his salmon wife who has remained completely unchanged. here’s an extra doodle i dont have posted anywhere but here

i’d like to keep his bath robe, though

hastur sr’s redesigning is far from done though. my glorious king in yellow will surely have a multitude of designs to cycle through until he feels just right. not to mention the fact he needs 3 separate designs for “The Worlds Worst Villain”, “The Scholar In Yellow” and “My Shitty Deadbeat Dad They Put In A Big Ass Battery”. maybe even one more for sundown/post-main series. i’ll have a lot to puzzle out with that. i’m thinking about toning down his tentacle motif, and in turn, likely hastur jr’s as well. it’s such an important design to FLG and could change the whole series from here on out. it isn’t set in stone, though. i’ve always been a sucker for hastur jr weaving his tentacles together like muscle fibres to form giant arms and shit. so maybe i’ll let him keep them in some form, maybe in his given power.

he’ll have to keep the tentacle power in some form

bla bla bla i’m tired and there’s not much else i really much else i have to ramble about. i guess i’m glad i can draw achelo now instead of making him have a weird squid head. you’re free now. I’d like to draw him in some more casual clothes though so I can better visualize him as he is in hundred nights. i also have to figure out how i want to visually represent his Archive ability, but seeing as i’ve now read 10000 manhwa with some kind of System Ability, i doubt it’ll be very hard for me.

next time i’ll be sure to redesign nuclear winter. and probably a couple others too, i guess.

#mostspecialgirldoodletag #stupid oc rambling #relicverse #flg #bravadon reaper #chaos galaron #hastur sr #achelo #mankind #nepenth galaron #hastur jr #aegean lawrence vydel #sa’ara pyrophyte byblis #oc #oc design #ocs #original character #original characters #oc art

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damnation-if · 2 years

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I would love to hear you rant about dnd demon cosmology 👀 what potential do you see? You seem to be really good at cool concepts (i.e. the game), soooo what about for dnd?

oh dear... you've activated my trap card XD the question of what potential i see in d&d's cosmology is almost too broad in a way because. they do literally nothing with it. the vast majority of players don't know a thing about it - some might know small parts, from perhaps a book where it came up, a popular podcast that touched on it, or maybe a DM that fell down a rabbithole. but it's IMMENSELY difficult to really put together a proper picture of why the fuck the entire universe of d&d... Is.

i know a shit-tonne more than most people and even my knowledge is largely confined to some of the outer planes, specifically the evil-aligned ones. i couldn't tell you shit about the half-dozen good- or neutral-aligned ones and how they came about, and wizards of the coast doesn't seem even vaguely interested in helping anyone find anything out. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

this, to my abject and utter disbelief, extends to the PEOPLE WRITING OFFICIAL FORGOTTEN-REALMS-COMPLIANT CONTENT. meaning that wizards is putting out campaigns and content via official licensing that break or make NO sense within their own canon.

i'm going to put a cut here because be warned... this WILL get long. i'm going to explain... briefly-ish... about the Abyss and some aspects of the Hells, and then i'm going to talk about... briefly-ish... what an absolute TRAVESTY Out Of The Abyss was, lore-wise, and hopefully illustrate how wizards are wasting the potential that exists by NEVER EXPLAINING ANYTHING. (spoilers for Out Of The Abyss also)

okay, whew. rapid-fire. i can do this. briefly.

there's a guy, a god, named Tharizdun - you might know him from some books - and he wasn't always evil or mad. originally he was pretty put together but he liked knowing Stuff and Things so he basically built the equivalent of a telescope to look into the realm of Chaos that existed beyond the known planes. in d&d cosmology, chaos is a force in and of itself that acts as a counter to law; chaos springs up naturally in places like a vacuum or void whereas most physical planes tend to collect law in kinda the same way planets collect an atmosphere.

however, Chaos is different to Entropy. entropy, like in real life, is the force that's eventually going to implode the universe and cause the opposite of the Big Bang (they call it the Big Crunch lmfao). maybe. physicists go back and forth on this but in d&d it's more set. eventually, every plane will be consumed by Entropy and everything will End. (this is expanded on a lot in Starfinder, a scifi sequel of sorts to Pathfinder.) the closest thing to beings aligned with Entropy are the Great Old Ones, your Hasturs and Shub-Nigguraths and Cthulhus... it's why 5e Great Old One Warlock is entirely separate to Fiend Warlock. different guys, different power sources

so anyway Tharizdun built himself a telescope into the Chaos beyond the planes and he found out there were people! living out there! people made of Chaos! and one of them was a sexy tentacle lady! surely her intentions are nothing but pure!! this can't possibly go wrong!!! sorry buddy... try meeting sexy tentacle ladies on your own plane next time

the Queen of Chaos, Tharizdun's new internet girlfriend, was an elder type of demon called an obyrith, who are now the least common type of demon and rarely ever come up in official material at all despite being OBJECTIVELY WAY COOLER than the younger tanar'ri. the vast majority of obyrith are so otherworldly and alien that simply looking upon them is enough to drive mortals mad. knowledge of their names is enough in some cases. whereas the tanar'ri are mostly just mean or gross dudes

unfortunately for Tharizdun, he wasn't immune either, and his telescope relationship with the tentacle lady from the black void started to rot his mind, which was probably supremely awkward for his friends. she was trying to cajole him to let the demons into the plane he lived on, partially because demons like fucking shit up and partially because the swirling chaos void had no protections against the encroach of Entropy and none of the demons wanted to get Eaten.

eventually, between his madness and his desire to meet up with her in meatspace, as 'twere, he was persuaded not to let the demons into his plane, but create one for them to move into, called the Abyss. the demons said "great! we'll pack our bags" figuring that once inside they could just use plane shift to hop over to wherever (plane shift only works if you're On A Plane lmfao) but Tharizdun had the presence of mind to basically build into the Abyss a secret rule that prevented creatures of pure chaos from leaving it. it worked perfectly from his point-of-view - he'd just pop over for a booty call whenever he wanted, and also he doesn't get bitched out by the other gods for letting lowly chaos people into the plane.

the demons. did not take getting tricked well. Tharizdun is currently imprisoned in a layer of the Abyss, frozen eternally.

however, in the brief time before the demons figured out they'd been had, the Queen of Chaos conceived a child with Tharizdun, everybody's favourite 2-baboon-headed badboy, Demogorgon. this is why he's often called the first of the tanar'ri, because he was the first demon born in a physical plane - but he's not REALLY a demon, he's half-god. which is why He and Only He can plane shift (this will be important later). the next guy who is maybe more accurately the first of the tanar'ri is Graz'zt, who was Built by his obyrith mother Pale Night who basically went "eh, screw giving birth, i'm just gonna Make A Guy" but Graz'zt also sort of doesn't count. so. who knows who's really First

the obyrith didn't fare great being in a physical plane for the first time ever so these new demons who didn't need to adjust quickly eclipsed them in power. to this day, Demogorgon and Graz'zt are the two currently most powerful demon lords with any sense of style behind them - the third guy who competes with them is Orcus, who is important purely because he is some writer's Evil Wizard OC, Do Not Stial, and no other reason. i shrimply do not have the time to get into Orcus right now LMAO

the two big boys started beating down the obyrith who wanted to bring them down a peg or two, most notably Obox-ob the former Prince of Demons, who is like. the coolest guy EVER by concept and TOTALLY WASTED, and the Queen of Chaos, who wanted her new boyfriend (she moved on quickly) The Wolf-Spider (i don't know anything about him? he could just be a spider. i Do Not Know) to be the new ruler, and all-out war basically broke out between camps of demons fighting each other.

a bunch of gods saw this and were like "okay, perfect! kill them while they're distracted" and sent a bunch of angels and other powerful celestials to the Abyss led by Archangel Asmodeus (yes, really. yes, THAT Asmodeus). the demons rallied against their common Snooty enemy, and the war turned to angels vs demons. so, how did the powerful archangel turn into the Prince of Hells we all know? well...

he met a guy, who looked Mostly like an angel (probably fine, don't worry about that Asmodeus), called Pazuzu, who was muscular and hot and Asmodeus liked him A Lot. A Lot.

Pazuzu was an obyrith, and he literally Seduced Asmodeus to the Dark Side lmfao. YES, REALLY. that's really canon!! and Nobody knows about it XD that's how devils started! they're just angels!! Pazuzu and Asmodeus are still on good terms!! please for the love of god wizards. do something with Any of this!!!

anyway, that's the Basic history (yes, basic. i know, i'm sorry lmfao). for a perfect explanation of why wizards is wasting All Of This, let's look at a campaign module called Out Of The Abyss, which touted itself as an exploration of the Abyss and its lore. it LIED, believe me. i was SO excited by the concept of Out Of The Abyss, but it disappointed me on SO many levels.

the writer, who i don't personally blame of course, seems to have been given a list of names of demon lords, not been able to do Any research, and just been told "make them all fight in the end." the basic premise is that Lolth, who exists lore-wise purely through the power of boobies. tricks a guy into summoning 8 demon lords to the Prime Material Plane. this would be an Extinction Level Event if it took place within any reality even vaguely resembling proper Forgotten Realms canon.

but for whatever reason, they all instead just sit there twiddling their thumbs (grossly out of character for all 8 that are involved), except for Demogorgon, who... rampages around the Underdark stomping on people because he wants to go home. Demogorgon. who can Canonically. Plane Shift. Canonically. so he doesn't do so for NO reason.

Graz'zt fucking VANISHES, literally isn't MENTIONED, for the entire campaign. the guy who has the biggest cult following out of all of them and the largest power base In the Prime Material Plane? he's just sitting in a closet somewhere i guess. he's got nothing worth doing. what is he, some kind of masterful demon schemer looking for a leg up on his age-old enemy?? haha no... closet time

and what's EVEN WORSE is that none of the demon lords left back in the Abyss DO ANYTHING during their absence. Obox-ob, who swore vengeance against Demogorgon and that he would get his throne back AT ANY COST, is just kicking rocks for the MULTIPLE YEARS the campaign can take place over. doing nothing. Queen of Chaos and the Wolf-Spider? same. she doesn't take the opportunity to try and free her boyfriend from Demogorgon's prisons cos. it would be rude i guess? every demon politely sits there waiting for the mortals to sort things out, because if there's one thing we know about demons, it's how orderly they are! even Lolth, who supposedly did this in an attempt to gain power? doesn't?? do anything?????

-the CRs for these demon lords in the big fight at the end are also WILDLY out of canon alignment with previously used CRs for other demon lords. so completely bonkers i can't even get into it or i'll Never stop-

imagine how cool it could have been if this event that should have impacted huge amounts of story, shaken up the ENTIRE political structure of the Abyss, brought the obyrith back to the fore, forced the gods to finally REALLY confront the fact that Graz'zt and Lolth each have a worship count that rivals their own, explored Demogorgon's half-divine nature, explained the Link (and subsequent Rift) between the Abyss and the Hells, really examined what it means for a demon lord to be so powerful as to possibly become a kind of god.

but no. everybody just sits there in a t-pose until the players push all the buttons to make it go away. why actually do anything Interesting

shortly after (i think?) presumably as a result of what a wet fart of a story this campaign turned out to be, they had Lolth leave the Abyss and become affiliated with an evil god plane. and that's It. it wasn't in a story. they just changed A Word on her wiki entry. that's it

so yeah... hopefully that conveys why i feel the way i do about wasted story potential lmfao. on the extremely unlikely chance that you read all the way to here, thanks for sticking with me. i love to talk about things i'm passionate about... and this one's pretty complicated (hence the wordcount). sorry<3

#long post #SERIOUSLY IT'S LONG DON'T EXPAND IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ D&D LORE #what does the chaos mirror see #anon #thank you for your question! and oh god i'm so sorry<3 #out of the abyss my behated...#yes i personally Destroyed orcus from the ground up when we played it but only because i Know Things lmfao #i feel like it must have been the most miserable experience Ever for everyone else #much like reading my wall of text! badum-tsh

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evilasiangenius · 3 years

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Discussion time!

Okay so where does the upper management of Heaven and Hell shop when they want some casual clothes? Here are my thoughts.

Gabriel: Costco

Michael: Michael Kors

Sandalphon: Walmart

Uriel: Theory

Beelzebub: Abercrombie & Fitch

Hastur: Literally just a dumpster. Or you know, Kohl’s.

Ligur: Nordstrom

Dagon: H&M

#archangel gabriel #archangel michael #beelzebub #good omens #good omens tv #ligur #hastur #dagon #uriel #sandalphon #fashion #hastur's was originally big lots #very american skewed #if anyone has the non-american edition i'd be interested #asmodeus is all about american apparel #where every model is personally and horribly molested by its founder/owner #imma drag kohl's cuz i have been many times and have never found anything i like #i mean sure if you want to look like a generic midwestern hausfrau be my guest

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sayuricorner · 3 years

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Miraculous Ladybug x Identity V: The Oletus manor diary of a ladybug: Chapter 4

Chapter 3 Chapter 5

Prompt concept

Warning : English is not my first language so sorry if it’s confusing !

Warning 2 : This fanfic content salt if you don’t like don’t read !

Hey everyone! ^^ So I kinda neglected this story for a while, so here’s for you a double update! ^^

So let’s begin with the first part of this double update: the chapter 4, have a good reading! ^^

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22/04/2015, Oletus manor :

Today mademoiselle Dyer told me since I seem to had more energy than yesterday it should doing me good to get up to had breakfast with her and the rest of the manor's tendants to ̎ exercice ̎ a little and to meet the rest of the people with who I will live for those next two weeks.

When we get to what seemed to be the dinning room I was welcomed by the sight of many people... A LOT of people.

And those people were to say, ̎ original ̎, and the sight of the big clown and the lizard man comfirmed me that they were quite real and not allusionations from my feverish mind.

So among all the people I met during breakfast there was :

The ̎ survivors ̎ with :

-Mademoiselle Emily Dyer aka ̎ Doctor ̎

-Mademoiselle Emma Woods aka ̎ Gardener ̎

-Monsieur Freddy Riley aka ̎ Lawyer ̎

-Monsieur Kreacher Pierson aka ̎ Thief ̎

-Monsieur Servais Le Roy aka ̎ Magician ̎

-Monsieur Kurt Frank aka ̎ Explorer ̎

-Monsieur Naib Subedar aka ̎ Mercenary ̎

-Mademoiselle Martha Behamfil aka ̎ Coordinator ̎

-Mademoiselle Tracy Reznik aka ̎ Mecanic ̎

-Monsieur William Ellis aka ̎ Forward ̎

-Mademoiselle Helena Adams aka ̎ The mind's eye ̎

-Mademoiselle Fiona Gilman aka ̎ Priestress ̎

-Mademoiselle Vera Nair aka ̎ Perfumer ̎

-Monsieur Kevin Ayuso aka ̎ Cowboy ̎

-Mademoiselle Margaretha Zelle aka ̎ Female dancer ̎

-Monsieur Eli Clark aka ̎ Seer ̎

-Monsieur Aesop Carl aka ̎ Embalmer ̎

-Monsieur Norton Campbell aka ̎ Prospector ̎

-Mademoiselle Patricia Dorval aka ̎ Enchantress ̎

-Monsieur Murro aka ̎ Wilding ̎

-Monsieur Mike Morton aka ̎ Acrobat ̎

-Monsieur Jose Baden aka ̎ First Officer ̎

-Mademoiselle Demi Bourbon aka ̎ Bardmaid ̎

-Monsieur Victor Grantz aka ̎ Postman ̎

-Monsieur Andrew Kreiss aka ̎ Gravekeeper ̎

-Monsieur Luca Balsa aka ̎ Prisoner ̎

-Monsieur Edgar Valden aka ̎ Painter ̎

And Monsieur... ̎ Lucky Guy ̎? (Is thas his real name?)

And the ̎ Hunters ̎ with :

-Monsieur Leo Beck aka ̎ Hell Ember ̎

-Monsieur Joker aka ̎ Smiley Face ̎

-Monsieur Jack aka ̎ The Reaper ̎

-Monsieur Bane Perez aka ̎ Gamekeeper ̎

-Mademoiselle Violetta aka ̎ Soul Weaver ̎

-Madame Michiko aka ̎ Geisha ̎

-Monsieur Hastur aka ̎ The Feaster ̎

-Monsieur Wu Chang but also know as... Messieurs Xie Bi'an & Fan Wujiu ? aka ̎ Black and White guards ̎ (Tiki seemed very agitated at those names, does she know rhose men ? I should ask her later)

-Monsieur Joseph Desaulniers aka ̎ Photographer ̎

-Monsieur Burke Lapadula aka ̎ Mad Eyes ̎

-Miss Yidhra aka ̎ Dream Witch ̎ and a little girl named ̎ Follower ̎ ?

-Robbie White aka ̎ Axe Boy ̎

-Monsieur Luchino Diruse aka ̎ Evil Reptilian ̎

-Mademoiselle Mary aka ̎ Bloody Queen ̎ (Somehow this name and this ̎ title ̎ are familiar)

-Bonbon aka ̎ Guard 26 ̎

-Mademoiselle Ann aka ̎ Disciple ̎

And Monsieur Antonio aka ̎ Violonist ̎

I was surprised to recognized some of the people present, the few faces I recognized are people I met at least once ever since me and my class arrived at Eurydice.

(I know I should rather be surprised-no scratch that SHOCKED to be actually surronded by such... unique persons ? Especially since some of them are apparently literal ghosts and others supernatural beings, and a robot... I may have been dealing with Hawkmoth's evil antics for too long for not even batting an eye to wierd supernatural shenaningans... and it's propably also because of the fever...)

Anyway, I did recognized some faces, like, of course docteur Dyer, who's normally doctor at the hospital of Eurydice and who I met after I get to to the hospital to get treated due to an accident after having being left behind by the class at the hotel when we were supposed to visit the town's museum.

There was also monsieur Carl who was the man who helped me to go to the hospital where I met docteur Dyer after my accident.

I also recognized monsieur Grantz, who I saw delivering mails across the town times to times, mademoiselle Bourbon, who work in a cafee which I have gone to with my class once and mademoiselle Woods, who take care of the town's park's gardens.

Heck, I'm even pretty sure that messieurs Lapadula and Desaulniers are the same messieurs Lapadula and Desaulniers who work at Eurydice's museum as tour guides for the technology section and photography section.

I... really don't know what to think about all this...

I spent the rest of breakfast to get to know them all, some were actually nice and welcoming, or at least civil like docteur Dyer, mademoiselle Woods, monsieur Carl, Robbie or monsieur Clark, some others were just going on with their breakfast or minding their own business.

To be honnest, I don't really mind it, I know I shouldn't judge people I just met but... Some of them really give me a chilling feeling, as if to tell me that I should stay away from them as much as possible.

I also noticed monsieur Wu Chang throwing glaces at me times to times, but, there was also monsieur Hastur who was staring at me during the whole meal with an intense gaze, as if he noticed something about me.(pleasedon'ttellmehenoticedTikkipleasedon'ttellmehenoticedTikkiPLEASEDON'TTELLMEHENOTICEDTIKKI!)

After that, and saying polite goodbyes to the manor's habitants, I immediatly go back to my room to rest, doctor's orders, the worrying feeling sot going away.

Maybe I should be carefoul at least around some of those people, just to be safe, after all you never know what people could do at the moments you expect the least, like with my classmates...

…

Anyway, speaking of my class, I wonder what they're doing right now ! Did mademoiselle Bustier noticed i'm missing ? Nha, knowing her either she noticed one or two days later or Lila lied to her about where I was and believed her, as ussual, and someone else noticed something wasn't normal and reported my disparition.

But still, I can't help but wonder how things are going for them at the hotel...

—————————————–

TAG LIST :( a reblog will get you a place in the tag list! ^^)

@diana-berry , @doll246

#ml salt #identity v #miraculous ladybug #ml salt fic #ml fanfic #marinette dupain cheng #survivors #hunters #Tikki #caline bustier #miraculous class #lila rossi #oletus manor #diary entries #class salt #bustier salt #caline bustier salt #marinette deserves better

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luchinosgf · 3 years

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hi!! can you write hcs for the reader’s first kiss with luca, michiko & joseph? (separate) thank you in advance!!

This post got crazy long so it’s getting a read more to spare your dashboards-

I wasn’t sure if you meant it was the reader’s first kiss in general, or their first kiss with them, so I wrote the latter ;x;

If you wanted the other one, please shoot me another ask anon!

Luca Balsa ⚡️

This man was the human embodiment of anxiety beforehand.

He had this all planned out originally. He was gonna walk up to you after your match, lead you to garden, compare the flower’s beauty to you, and then GO FOR THE KILL.

But he sorta kinda had a massive headache like. Right before you got back to the manor.

Luca wound up losing all track of time, locking himself in his dark room while trying to nurse the headache away.

You, being the pure soul you are, brought Luca’s dinner to him since he had missed it, and ate with him.

His heart swelled so much just thinking about how you could have been down there with all the other survivors and hunters, but you were here with him.

He started smiling, prompting you to point it out.

Luca replied with a little “It’s nothing,” keeping that smile plastered onto his face.

And then it seemed like the rest of the world slipped away. He inched his hand towards yours slowly, testing the waters before diving head first.

You let him entwine your fingers, and he took that as his cue to lean in, and it happened.

Your first kiss with him went in no way how it was planned, but it would up being perfect for you two anyway.

He pulled away after a solid few seconds, looked at you, smiled even wider, then hid his blushing face in your neck.

You two were inseparable for the rest of the night.

Michiko 🎐

For Michi, things kind of did just happen more spontaneously than anything else.

You two were reminiscing about your lives in the garden, sipping on some tea Xie Bi’an was kind enough to make for you two as you relaxed on your day off from matches.

After you told her about yours, she did start to talk about Miles, her father, and what came of her marriage because of him.

You wanted to comfort her, placing your hand on her shoulder softly.

She looked at you, then leant in to the touch. Michiko lifted your arm around her shoulders completely, then rested her head against your shoulder.

“Although I miss Miles dearly..” She’d look up at you, “He pales in comparison to you, my love.”

She hoped she played that off well, but deep down inside she hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten and wanted to make that move.

So she did. She smooched your lips ever so softly. It was spur of the moment and a big shift from her usually quiet and shy demeanor, enough of one to leave you a bit shocked as she moved away.

You pulled her back in for more smoochies of course >:3

Joseph Desalunier 📸

It did not take long for Joseph to kiss you, let’s start there.

Someone please request dating hc with this man so I can go into this suave fucker.

He hates that he can't do much, being stuck in the confines of the manor, but he works with what he can.

We all know Joseph was raised a nobleman, so has a predisposition when it comes to courting. That being said, he’s easily swept by romantic ideas and longs to show affection in a more open way than how he was taught.

And that’s how we got here.

Similarly to Luca, he had the day planned out. He was going to take you up to your room, present you with some fancy shit, then take you out onto the terrace for a nice dinner he bribed Hastur to make for you two.

The entire evening would be full of affirmations, promises to photograph you and display your radiance to the entire manor so everyone would know how lucky he was. Lots of hand holding throughout the meal too.

After dinner you guys would take a nice little stroll around the grounds, talking softly of things only lovers know, and then he’d stop.

He’s just stop walking, pull you into the moonlight, and put his hands on your waist.

No one spoke, but you both somehow knew what the other wanted.

He kept one hand on your waist, took yours with the other, and pulled you in flat against his chest. As you began to lose yourself in his eyes, that’s when he swept in.

It wasn’t a peck by any means either, it was deep and enough to convey every emotion Joseph felt about you. It was a kiss that definitely put others to shame.

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #idv imagines #luca balsa #joseph desaulnier #michiko

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whispsofwind · 3 years

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Now that the post about Radio Omens the other day reminded me, I keep coming back to how much Good Omens fascinates me in terms of the adaptation process.

This may sound silly, but having the book, and then the radio drama, the tv show, and the tv show script, I find myself comparing the different choices made in each version. Between radio and tv show especially: it's incredibly interesting to me, to see how the same book was adapted. I would call both versions faithful to the original, but they're still different.

Like, the simplest example, and the one I often come back to in my mind, is that first scene when Crowley is driving the Bentley, going towards the graveyard.

This is a pretty important scene, being the one that reintroduces Crowley to us after 6000 years have passed. It's the scene where we learn what he has become.

So, in the book we are told about the M25, establishing how Crowley works on Earth. We are introduced to the Bentley, to Queen, the over-the-top wristwatch, to Crowley's hate for the 14th Century, and we are given a short physical description. Most interestingly, the scene ends implying that Crowley did something to a couple of policemen who were chasing him, but we aren't told what.

Jump forward to the radio adaptation in 2014. They give us basically the same scene as the book: a lot of things are adapted word for word. However, two big differences are there: one, now Crowley is telling us about the M25, the Bentley, everything; he's basically boasting about it, while in the book it was mostly narration. And second, he murders the policemen (Terry and Neil, nooooo): their car comes alive and eats them.

This to me is possibly the biggest change in the Radio drama: Crowley in this version is a character who occasionally murders people just because he's in the mood for it. Him boasting is a necessity of the new media, him killing the policemen is an adaptation choice.

Jump forward again, and we have the TV show. The TV show decided to cut this scene completely: we get only a glimpse of the Bentley and a few notes of Queen before moving along to the awkward meeting with Hastur and Ligur. I think this was a good choice, because the first episode of the miniseries already jumps from one location to another as it is.

(I think the book was more effective in making you think Crowley is cool for a few paragraphs, while in the show we immediately jump to Crowley nodding along with "Glorious. Tool. Yeah". But I'm not complaining).

But the really interesting thing to me is that the scene is in the script book. It was just never filmed -if I understood it correctly, at some point we were supposed to meet Crowley while he's messing with the telephones, a scene that was filmed; then we would follow him to his car, have the chase scene, and then move along to the meeting at the graveyard.

Anyway, the scene is there, and Crowley this time doesn't kill the policemen: he turns their engine into a pile of wriggling mice. I consider this closer to the characterization Crowley has in the book: someone who, when given the choice between violence and a prank, will choose a prank.

And while a cut scene that wasn't even filmed isn't technically canon to a show, knowing that Crowley was written with this characterization in mind is, to me, still relevant.

I think I already wrote about this, but it's such an interesting look in how adaptations work, what gets cut, what gets adapted, and how it gets adapted.

I have to say, I've become a lot less anal about adaptation fidelity as I grow older and learn more about the process, and the limitations of each form of entertainment. But the process itself is still so interesting to me.

#good omens #tv omens #book omens #good omens meta #radio omens #script omens #long post

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eganantiquus · 3 years

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Capitalism: Its Effects on Heaven, Hell, and a Few Others // A Good Omens Meta

I think the discussion about capitalism in Good Omens is a very interesting one to have- specifically in how it relates to Heaven and Hell. I saw a post about it recently, about the Quartermaster saying Heaven would “take the sword out of [Aziraphale’s] celestial wages,” which begs the question: does Heaven have money? A system of checks and balances on the Angels’ miracles, perhaps? Heaven is, after all, the original monopoly. But how does that affect them? Or affect Hell, for that matter? (Keep in mind, I will primarily be discussing events and dialogue from the TV show, as that’s the canon I’m most familiar and comfortable with extrapolating on.) So let’s move out a bit to take stock of the bigger picture. First of all in this discussion, let’s remember that the entire structure of Heaven and Hell blatantly showcases the shittiest parts of capitalism. As a reminder, the cons of capitalism can include: a monopoly on trade, goods, or services; social/emotional necessities ignored in the pursuit of profit; lack of concern for the environment; driving need for exponentially increased profit, allowing no space for slip-ups or less-profitable cycles; Inherited wealth, and big gaps in economic equality, which creates social divisions, which cause people to resent their fellow citizens. Let’s first take a look at something we’re all familiar with. Heaven’s and Hell’s relationship with Crowley and Aziraphale. Both Heaven and Hell have an inherent monopoly on basically everything, which is something we see both Crowley and Aziraphale struggling with in different ways throughout history. They want to exist outside of the hierarchy, but there literally isn’t any outside. In terms of social/emotional needs… do I need to go into the trauma and anxiety that Heaven and Hell instill in Crowley and Aziraphale? A post for another time. And it’s apparent, however much they try to hide it, that both of them fear authority, and would do practically anything to get away from it. So, they wiggle out from under it in whatever ways they can. (See: the “arrangement,” Crowley’s “there’s more to evil than killing people, eh?” and Aziraphale’s “Well, if you put it that way, Heaven couldn’t actually object… ”) Lack of concern for the environment can be extrapolated to Heaven and Hell’s lack of care for humanity. (See also, uh, nuclear Armageddon.) Inherited wealth/prestige is definitely a thing: see the Archangels lording their power over the lower Principalities. There’s a bit more room for mobility in Hell, where doing more evil deeds = more prestige & (...dis)honor? Anyway, this is where Hell begins to deviate. Exponential need for profit in Heaven and Hell translates to their increasing intolerance of Aziraphale’s *ahem* lies. Hell is more lenient in this area too- perhaps because of their disorganization. So Heaven and Hell are capitalistic. But in what capacity, and what is the effect on their respective denizens? In practice, who’s the winner in this capitalistic structure? Hell isn’t, no matter how inherently hellish capitalism might be. They’re clearly the losers in this situation- they’ve got terrible service, (see: Hastur having to “[wait] for maintenance to come and fix another bloody pipe,”* and the Demon Eric’s “we don’t get this view down in the basement.”) lack the organization to rise up against Heaven, (see: the frankly concerning lack of organized preparation for The Great War) and are constantly put down. They all have to fight for their positions, and are intimately familiar with what the failure to succeed in this “business” means. Not to mention that their entire hierarchy is performance driven, showing the capitalistic values they, for lack of a better term, grew up in, are still ingrained in all their practices. Heaven is at the top of an office building, has views of the entire world, is clean and obviously well organized. It’s clear what the hierarchy is there- everyone walks in lines, Gabriel always stands slightly in front of Michael and Uriel and Sandalphon, all of the higher Angels we see interact with Aziraphale treat him like he’s less than them. Heaven clearly benefits from the organization and driving force that capitalism provides, while Hell is just getting by.

To dive further into what the effects of capitalism are on Heaven and Hell, let’s go into depth more about Heaven and Hell’s respective war preparation to analyze their motivations.

Hell’s war preparations are disorganized, at best. All the Demons of Hell, gathered around two ‘generals,’ getting ready to hear a pep talk best described as being far from premeditated or sophisticated. On top of this, the second something goes wrong, Beelzebub says it. Just like that, to all the Demons. It makes me cringe every time I watch it, to see the rest of the Demons turn to each other and wonder if they’re following the right leader. The thing about this, though, is that they don’t have another option for a leader. This is the place for the people who couldn’t make it in Heaven, the outcasts and Fallen, so they don’t care. There’s nowhere else for anyone to go. Hell is far more transparent about their hate, their evil, but also about their vulnerability. Perhaps not individual vulnerability, (see: Crowley needing to be Cool and Collected at every moment) but in their overall anxieties and problems, Hell is very transparent. There is no need to hide the problems Hell has, because there’s no worse place to go. In this way, Hell has accepted their fate at the bottom of the totem pole.

Now let’s talk about Heaven’s war preparations. When Aziraphale arrives prematurely in Heaven, his “whole platoon” is “waiting” for him. So, Heaven has an organized war effort. They have uniforms. They have someone checking everyone in, putting them into place. (Where do they all line up to go to war? Where does the war Occur?? Questions for another time.) However, here is the interesting part: Heaven’s whole spiel to get everyone motivated, unlike Hell, is based on fear. While Hell brings up the actual motive for fighting, saying “we lost” and “we have had thousands of years to… get smarter,” Heaven tells Aziraphale that he’s a “coward” if he doesn’t fight, while not providing any reason besides ‘he’s supposed to.’

Here lies the beginning of the difference between Heaven and Hell: their motivators. Now let’s talk about how they carry out justice, and how that is an indicator of the effects of capitalism on them both.

Hell’s trial for Crowley is a mockery of the word, let’s be perfectly clear. They don’t provide him with a defense, and have an implicitly biased jury. However, it is a trial. A trial with evidence presented against him, a prosecutor, and a judge, and everything. What’s so interesting to me, about this, is that they don’t think for a minute that there wouldn’t be a trial. If they had thought such a thing was possible, they would have taken the opportunity. But they didn’t think of it. And that is what is so important here. Hell is the one that carries out a just trial. And I think that really speaks to their experiences as the Fallen. They know what no mercy looks like, what it is to be cut off from God’s love, with no hope for recompense. And, however evil they are, they know how much that hurts. Hell is just because they were given no justice.

Heaven, on the other hand? There’s no preamble to Aziraphale’s “trial.” There isn’t even a trial. There’s just the characteristic fake-niceties boiled down to their basest component: a complete lack of empathy for anyone who deviates from the norm. (See Gabriel’s “into the flames,” and “don’t talk to me about the ‘greater good,’ sunshine.”). And, oh yeah by the way, what kind of good and just society uses capital punishment? Isn’t that the exact sort of thing Heaven should be above? I should sure hope so! Their believed moral code, the idea that because they’re Angels, divinely Chosen by God, that whatever they do is predestined to be right, has all the flavor of a strong dictatorship. So convinced are they of their superiority that even outright capital punishment is not below them. This is an interesting contrast to their motivation of fear that we looked at in the previous section. Perhaps higher Angels use fear to keep Angels in line, but feel exempt from the process itself. Very similar to the way big CEO's in the human business world accumulate wealth and power while their workers work paycheck to paycheck.

So Heaven is fundamentally bad, and Hell is fundamentally… good?

Not quite.

Both Heaven and Hell are operating under the millennia of repressed trauma and baggage that came with the first war. For example, let’s look at their refusal to see nuance in the issue of war Take a look at Gabriel’s “We can fight! And we can win!” to Aziraphale and Beezlebub’s “Don’t you want to rule the world?” to Adam. They can’t comprehend that someone would want to, or, for that matter, could look at the structure of The Way Things Are and go, ‘No, this is not for me, I think I’ll just do this quietly over her instead.’ Heaven and Hell have each been indoctrinated in their own ways, by God and by Heaven and by their own inability to look past their instructions.

So, Heaven and Hell operate under the guidelines of a capitalistic system because of their respective experiences with authority and punishment.

What does this say about Crowley and Aziraphale? That they’ve managed to dodge this system (mostly) altogether, and made one of their own… based purely on joy, mutual respect, and They still have their issues, (See: Being unable to communicate effectively. When? Oh, just for all of history) but for the most part, they’re living their own lives. It takes an especially strong will to stand up to a faulty administration, even if the standing up part consists of drinking a lot of wine, sliding around killing people, and consorting with an enemy who’s actually quite nice. It takes what a lot of Angels and Demons, simply put, don’t have. Like Hastur, who doesn’t have an “imagination.” Crowley invented one for himself. Crowley and Aziraphale practically invented free will for themselves, too. Part of their ability to so wholly reject their ‘upbringing,’ if you will, must be connected to the fact that they spend so much time around humans. If we go with TV show canon, they’re practically the only ethereal/occult entities that are on Earth for any long period of time. Of course they’re going to catch on from the humans. So Crowley and Aziraphale are the only celestial beings who have been able to get free of this terrible system, and so are able to better ‘guide’ the humans, which inevitably leads them to attempting to stop armageddon. (And of course, the apocalypse, according to Aziraphale, is something no “reasonable person would permit!”)

This brings us to the humans. Specifically, how Heaven is supposed to guide them. Heaven doesn’t, insofar as we are aware, care about the humans. Perhaps other Angels do, ones who have walked among them. But for the most part, especially with Gabriel, Michael, Sandalphon- the people in charge- the humans are an afterthought. They’re one knight on the chessboard, easily moved, taken, and discarded- perhaps with a bit of regret, but dispensable all the same. In this way, the exponential growth mindset that Heaven has goes to show just how far they’ve deviated from God’s design. Now, far be it from me to speculate on the nature of the Ineffable Plan, but as far as I’m aware, the Angels were created to love humanity, and to nurture them. Doesn’t sound like what they’re doing at all, does it?

So in this way, we can see that both Heaven and Hell have gotten the short end of the metaphorical capitalism stick. Hell, at the bottom of the ranks, desperate to climb back up and regain their glory, but unable to do so because of the weight of their Falling trauma; Heaven, in all its Jeff Bezos glory, unable to see the consequences of their actions close up because of their disassociation with “reality.”

Capitalism and economics in general are incredibly nuanced things, and I do not at all pretend to fully understand them. However, I fully enjoy imagining how the complex dynamics of Good Omens universe Heaven and Hell deal with the repercussions of existence and their own actions through the lens of capitalism.

*side note from paragraph seven: I think maintenance work would be a more fitting job for Crowley and Aziraphale, and frankly, I would love to read a fic about that.

#good omens #good omens meta #capitalism #meta essay #i did this ages ago and forgot to post it here lol #also can be found on my ao3!#go #go meta

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embalmerandphotographer · 4 years

Note

Do you have any hcs on Fiona Gilman and her interactions with the other survivors?

Ghost here! Oh I absolutely do. Fiona is the survivor I play most often after Aesop and I love her! Not just her skill, I also find her backstory very intriguing and have spent a lot of time talking to Greed about it, as is our way.

Okay so... First a warning or two:

1. This contains some spoilers for her deduction lines and birthday letter, so skip this one if you don't want to see that.

2. I'll freely admit that I love to push everything in a horror direction and this does of course also apply to the mega-evolved kiter herself.

Getting that out of the way...

I think it's clear that Fiona knew about and implied to have been drawn to Lakeside Village, where there was a cult religion worshiping a lake deity that was probably Hasur. We know the villagers sacrificed "livestock" to the their god by throwing them into the lake in exchange for their prayers being answered. We know Fiona was drawn to seek out occult mysteries, and that she has a philosophy of following where her gods lead her, taking the actions she believes they call on her to take. We also know the village is now abandoned, and letters later sent to villagers (see the Dancer's recent birthday letter) weren't answered. We also know that Fiona gained some pretty impressive magical powers at some point, ones she didn't have growing up.

So, Fiona went to the village, either believing herself drawn there or because of what she'd heard about the lake cult, or both. I think she, a very attractive and definitely driven if not also somewhat cunning young woman, was able to join the cult and become close to or even join its secretive inner circle, the one in charge of the actual summoning and sacrifices.

And Ms. Fiona Gilman had a very big wish she wanted granted, a deep prayer she had no doubt been holding close most of her life.

I think Fiona wanted to be special. Powerful. Part of the magical world. And she wanted to be follow the call of her gods, to be able to pass through the solid reality of this world into the spiritual one she always wanted but never had access to as a child.

And I think she that she got her wish. And that she sacrificed the entire population of Lakeside Village to the lake and to Hasur to get it. Consider that the villagers were asking for small things, and paying in blood sacrifice and the slaughter of livestock for even that. And who and what Fiona became is very much not the anxious, unhappy, and apparently seeming unexceptional person she was implied to have been before breaking away from her mother.

If you consider the survivor's abilities separate from how they're balanced by the game mechanics, Fiona is one of the most powerful of the survivors, if not the most powerful. Along with Patricia and Eli, she had actual magical abilities before coming to the manor*. And because of my take on her, I think that like Aesop, she'd killed enough people that she could have been (and might still one day be) a hunter instead of a survivor... but that’s a post for another day.

So! That's my HC for her backstory. You also asked about her interactions with the others.

First off, while I obviously think she's a sort of amoral-evil person on a grand scale, I think Fiona is probably perfectly nice and even quite charismatic on an individual basis. Kind of weird still, because she's the priestess of a cult, but charming and easy to get along with in spite of this. And while I do think Fiona is capable of being manipulative to get what she wants, I also think she doesn't think of her actions as evil or intentionally do harm. Even her drowning a whole village of people in a lake could have been framed, for her, as following her god's commands. Maybe she thought that after so many sacrifices, Hastur wouldn't be bound to the lake anymore, and she might even have been right about that.

(Btw this, in my mind, is one of the most dangerous types of person when they're amoral. Someone so very likable is also so much harder to criticize, to question, or even to think ill of.)

So, I think the survivors get along with her fine for the most part. I don't think any of them know about what she did (with maybe one exception), and that they take her at face value as another member of their strange, unwilling team.

Now... She's casually friendly with pretty much all the survivors, with a few exceptions, but that she might not have any very close connections at the manor. I think she has a mean-girls style friendship with Vera, and that’s her closest friend. Also she and Patricia have long, technical conversations about magic from time to time, but Patricia is deeply uninterested in getting cursed more/again and steers clear of whatever it is the Priestess is up to spiritually. Any of the survivors who are attracted to pretty ladies and susceptible to getting crushes probably do have mild to moderate crushes on her (Kevin, Vera, Freddy, Martha, Emily, William, Emma, and certainly others although I haven't thought through it too much). Also, for some reason I headcanon that Luca specifically Just Thinks She's Neat, because she has a fascinating ability that challenges his view of a scientific reality, and because they're both feral and he can vibe with that.

Aesop is completely, almost hilariously immune to her charisma and views her neutrally- a competent coworker with a hang up on one of the hunters that's really not his place to comment on.

On the other hand, I think Emily and Martha don't think much of her intelligence due to her spirituality/gods, and Emma just quietly doesn't get closely involved with Fiona outside of matches because she while she may be unhinged she has good instincts. Poor Andrew is absolutely terrified of her like the good Catholic boy he is. And she does unnerve a few of the other survivors but not in a way that they can quite put their finger on, so they dismiss it.

And then there's Eli. I've understood Eli's backstory to imply that he's from the Roman Empire, so way further back in the timeline than most of the others, who were take from eras closer to the World Wars. And Eli is linked to Fiona, but we don't know how. They have similar eye themes (Fiona's keys/portals have eyes on them and Eli's blindfold/owl are related to sight), but they can't have know each other when they were alive, and we don't hear anything about the lake cult being involved in Eli’s life or his future seeing. Fiona is implied to have served and still be following Hastur, but the same can't be said for Eli as far as I know.

I don't think Eli dislikes Fiona. They might even be friends in a way, or sort of colleagues. Certainly there aren't many other people they can talk to about magic, and they do share some kind of connection from outside the manor. But I think Eli has very mixed feeling about her, partly because he knows that mystical powers come with costs.

And I have a specific, wildly extrapolated headcanon about them. I don't think Eli was part of a cult dedicated to Hastur that existed long before Fiona was ever born. I think his own powers were given to him, in part, to stop things like what Fiona did in Lakeside Village from ever happening. To contain gods of chaos and protect the balance of the world. He might even have had visions of what happened, either with the Lakeside cult or with the manor games or both, and if so he just wasn't able to stop it, being too far away in time until he was pulled into the timeless pocket dimension the manor apparently exists in. (How interesting then for him to become trapped with living proof that what he saw and would have tired to prevent had already come to pass?)

Anyway! Those are my headcanons for Fiona, or what I have time to write down tonight.

Closing thoughts:

-I did also find another little bit of interesting trivia: part of Eli's Chinese name originally translated to Gilman. We also know reincarnation is a theme for him. Who knows what the manor game is about, after all?

-I also think it's EXTREMELY funny that Fiona claims to have not come to the manor after being called by a letter, but instead to have followed "a spirit" or one of her gods to the manor. Because if it's at all true, Ms. Gilman *broke into the manor*, either at the behest of her god (Hastur) or because she was following him. She broke in. Can she get out out? Does she just not want to? I have questions!!! Ms. Gilman what is your deal!!)

*(Servais, honey, I appreciate you, but we don't know if you had real magic or just excellent illusionism skills before the manor; I also think it's safe to say that Mike's juggling wasn't magical until the manor got ahold of him either, and so on with Vera, Aesop, etc.)

#identity v #fiona gilman #identity v headcanon #long post #coffin #sorry this took a few days to answer #hope you enjoy my ramblings about my murderous crystal hippie headcanons for fiona #Anonymous

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trellanyx · 5 years

Text

Demonic Eyes and Stress

We all know Crowley’s eyes change at different points of the show. Neil’s explained that Crowley’s eyes go full yellow when he’s concentrating hard or stressed. Makes sense. Except when do we first see them in that form?

When he meets Aziraphale. Not only that, but during the moment that I think we all agree Crowley fell just a little bit in love.

Now, Neil also said why this happened, but I really like the idea that Crowley is just as stressed out as Aziraphale is in this scene, so indulge me.

Our focus is on Aziraphale’s anxiety about stepping out of line, but Crowley is freaking out as well. The deception of his still body and even voice are undercut the second you look into his eyes.

Because what Crowley did was Big. He was just supposed to “make some trouble”, and he ended up being the catalyst for original sin. Which is all well and evil...if, indeed, that’s what it is. Even Crowley himself doesn’t see it as a wicked thing - I can’t see what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway - and if HE can’t see it, does that mean...?

A demon can get into a lot of trouble for doing the right thing.

And Crowley’s lot doesn’t send rude notes.

That’s a stress joke right there. That’s I need to make light of this because it’s not a big deal, it’s NOT, it’s funny, see, we’re laughing, please agree with me.

It’s worth noting that the only other time we see Crowley’s eyes like this is when he’s driving through literal hellfire at the end of the world.*

BONUS:

Hastur’s eyes do this, too.

* EDIT: It’s been pointed out to me that I forgot about Crowley going full yellow in the flaming bookshop, too, when he thinks Aziraphale is dead. Oops!

#good omens #crowley #fuckyeahgoodomens #dailygoodomens #vicsfam #my meta #my headcanons

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veliseraptor · 5 years

Note

If you wanna rec some of your fave Good Omens fics. . . I’d be pretty grateful

okay, I’m still doing a lot of reading but here are a few to get started with. a lot of these, uh, feature Crowley suffering because I’m the person I am and I’m sort of sorry but also not really. I’m consistent, you can say that for me.

this is also just based on, like, a week of really aggressive reading, so I’m sure I’m missing a lot of things.

Eden!verse by ImprobableDreams900

I blitzed through the entirety of this verse in about three days while reading nothing else and crying a lot on the subway. Like...holy shit. It starts with your basic “Crowley gets kidnapped to Heaven” premise, with some crunchy torture/whump, and that’s the easy part. It goes so much deeper, and so much further, from there. Heavy warning for the first fic - I spent roughly 80% of it bawling, and if you’ve ever had a family member or loved one die of Alzheimer’s...well. But oh, it’s so good.

Don’t Play With Holy Water by ImprobableDreams900

Hastur shows up post-canon and he’s got bad plans for Crowley. Some very good classic and nicely creative whump.

Mirror, Mirror by ImprobableDreams900

Mirror universe fic is good in any fandom! And this is Mirror!verse fic, with a significantly eviller Crowley showing up in the main universe, and a significantly less evil Crowley showing up in a very dark future.

I Run Into You and Just Keep Running by meganbagels

I really can’t put this one any better than the summary: “Through the years Crowley and Aziraphale keep running into each other in compromising scenarios or just when they're on the pull. To be fair, it's mostly just Aziraphale in compromising scenarios. That hardly makes it better.”

The Last Temptation of Crowley by irisbleufic

Post-book, growing into their new relationship. Awkwardly. (But it’s good.)

Any Other Name by mostlyanything19

So it turns out that Crowley can’t say Aziraphale’s original name because it’s holy, and holy things don’t get along with demons. A little change in name can fix that problem, though. Just some early-days-of-Crowley-and-Aziraphale fic, showing some small development in their relationship.

Those Golden Eyes by NeverNooitNiet

Just a character story, sort of about Crowley and his eyes, and Aziraphale and Crowley’s history, but also about Aziraphale and his perspective on Crowley, and Aziraphale being pretty fond of the snake eyes, really.

such selfish prayers by Lvslie

I don’t really know how to give an appropriate blurb for this one, but mostly what’s important to me about it is the really quality feverish and aggressively cuddly Crowley.

Anytime. by sergeant_smudge

Classic whump, and I’m about it. It’s also really well described.

Black Dog by HoloXam

I didn’t know I wanted fic of “Crowley has a depressive episode” but apparently I did want that, and really I shouldn’t be surprised, and this one really did me good.

where do we begin (the rubble or our sins) by procrastinatingbookworm

Crowley and Aziraphale in the aftermath of the eruption of Mount Vesuvius.

is it that we are dying? by NeverNooitNiet

Crowley gets the plague. And then someone has to go and bless him. Includes some fairly nasty descriptions of bubonic plague, major character discorporation, and some real nice angst and pre-Arrangement Crowley and Aziraphale.

Modern Love by punkfaery

Apparently I am a sucker for “stories that bounce around historical periods with Crowley and Aziraphale”, and also this is just a really beautifully written piece with the two of them and developing relationship feelings and I’m just very fond of it.

Under the Apple Tree by NotaSpaceAlien

Crowley runs into a bit of a situation with some angels, and Aziraphale helps out. He thinks that maybe things might be starting to change, a little. More early-days (earlier days) Crowley and Aziraphale, more of that hurt/comfort stuff that I love so much.

Game Over, Insert Coin by irisbleufic & procrastinatingbookworm

Am I always going to be a sucker for time loop fic in any fandom? Yes, yes I am. aka - this is the one where Crowley repeats the day of the end of the world over and over until he gets it right, in this case meaning “more hand holding, you dumbass.”

how big the hourglass, how deep the sand by Handful_of_Silence

A severely unfortunately accident results in Aziraphale being kidnapped by a human sorcerer just as his and Crowley’s relationship is starting to get off the ground, and I’m making this fic sound a lot funnier and more light-hearted than it actually is.

such surpassing brightness by Handful_of_Silence

The one where Aziraphale has been a queer icon for centuries, and Crowley finds out about it. I love fic that uses some kind of multimedia/creative formatting, and the way this fic plays with using film summaries/academic articles/fake blog posts in building itself...is just very well done. Just read this one this morning and I love it.

every angel is terrifying by punkfaery

A great fic about cosmic horror angels - or, well, eldritch angels(/demons) and their true forms. I really liked this one, not least for its descriptions of Aziraphale and Crowley’s true forms.

the prophet’s song by ApprenticeofDoyle (WIP)

So this one is still in progress but I really like what’s posted so far - Crowley gets yanked across universes (or rather, swaps universes) into one where he and Aziraphale never had an Arrangement and the Apocalypse is night. (And the corresponding Crowley’s swapped into the other one.)

the still point of the turning world by punkfaery

A fic where Crowley, post-Apocawasn’t, having a bit of a crisis about the idea that he might have actually forever lost Aziraphale.

#anonymous #conversating #good omens #fic rec #this is the first fic rec list i've finished in months i feel like #long post for ts

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balioc · 5 years

Text

Your ideology -- if it gets off the ground at all -- will start off with a core base of natural true believers. These are the people for whom the ideology is made. Unless it’s totally artificial, they are the people by whom the ideology is made. It serves their psychological needs; it’s compatible with their temperaments; it plays to their interests and preferences. They’re easy to recruit, because you’re offering something that’s pretty much tailor-made for them.

This is the level at which ideological movements are the most diverse, in terms of human qualities. Natural true believers are heavily selected, and different movements select for different things. A natural true radical feminist is a very different creature from a natural true fascist, and neither of them looks very much like a natural true Hastur cultist.

Life in a baby movement, populated entirely (or almost entirely) by natural true believers, can be pretty sweet. You may not necessarily be getting a lot done, but you’re surrounded by kindred spirits, and that’s worth a lot by itself.

One of the most common ideological failure modes involves imagining that expansion is tantamount to “transforming outsiders into natural true believers.” It’s not. The population of natural true believers is a limited and precious resource, and while it’s theoretically possible to make more...if you have some truly gifted cultural engineers...it’s a difficult, costly, and failure-prone process at the best of times. It doesn’t work at scale.

You can grow, but the growth process necessarily involves attracting other kinds of people to your ideology. And then it won’t be the same.

Success, I think, requires some understanding of what growth is actually going to bring you, and being able to roll with those changes.

**********

The first outsiders to flock to your banner will be the perpetual seekers -- or, to put it less charitably, the serial converters. These are the hipsters and connoisseurs of belief, the people who join movements because they really like joining movements.

They’ll think that you and your doctrines are amazing, at least for a little while. They’re primed for that. But they get bored easily, and they like chasing after the high of new epiphanies. Unless you figure out how to hold their attention in a sustained way, which requires constant work, they’ll drift off.

This is the second-most-common way for a movement to die (after “never really getting anywhere in the first place”). You attract a few interested seekers, but not enough of them to give you a foothold in less-accessible demographics, and after a while they just give up and move on. If you’re lucky, they leave you with something like the original core of natural true believers, sadder but wiser after their experience trying to go big. If you’re unlucky, they cause lots of drama and shred everything on the way out.

These guys can be very annoying to natural true believers, but if you want to expand, you 100% absolutely need them. If you’re smart, you’ll take precautions to make sure they don’t walk off with key pieces of your infrastructure.

**********

If you display some serious growth potential, you start getting the profiteers, who don’t much care about your doctrine or your happy vibe but do care about that growth potential. These are people who see your movement as a vehicle for their private ambitions, who want to sell you to the world and ride you all the way to the top.

...I’ve used some mercantile language here, but they’re not necessarily merchants trying to get rich, although that’s the prototype case I have in mind. They may be going for political power, or simple fame, or all sorts of things. Whatever it is they want, they think that you can help them get it, because your star is rising.

In the long term, even the medium term, the profiteers can utterly wreck you if you’re not careful. They tend to amass a lot of movement-internal power very fast, because they have big plans, and they promise concrete rewards quick. But they usually don’t get whatever-it-is that the movement is really about, and even if they do get it, they don’t care as much as you do. Their instinct is to make your Whole Thing as bland and generic and palatable as they can, so that they can sell it to the widest possible consumer base in the shortest possible timeframe. This is a miserable and degrading experience, of course, but it’s also bad strategy in an eating-your-seed-corn kind of way. The world gets a constant stream of bland generic palatable Hot New Things, and it chews through them fast. There’s a future in being something genuinely weird enough to change the world; there’s no future in being last year’s fad. The profiteers, however, aren’t interested in being careful shepherds of your movement’s power and credibility. The arc of an individual’s career is not that long. Consciously or otherwise, they are happy to burn you up as fuel for themselves.

In the short term, the profiteers are super awesome. They will work tirelessly to help your movement grow, and they will do so in a very effective and practical-minded sort of way, without getting bogged down in the dysfunctions and the arcane abstract concerns that (probably) dominate your natural true believers.

Yes -- these first three groups map roughly onto the geeks, MOPs, and sociopaths of that one Meaningness essay. There’s a lot of applicable insight in there. It’s important, however, that if your group is built around a serious ideology rather than a consumable toy, standard-issue Members of the Public aren’t going to come flocking to you during these early stages. Members of the Public don’t adopt new ideologies that easily. Your weirdos will be able to attract only other, different kinds of weirdos.

**********

Close on the heels of the profiteers, you will get the exploiters. Where the profiteers are trying to sell you to the world, the exploiters are trying to sell themselves to you; where the profiteers are trying to make your movement grow (for their own purposes), the exploiters see you as an environment that’s already big enough for them to thrive in it.

Some of them are hucksters and con artists. Some of them are, yes, sexual predators in the classic mold, going after a known population of unusually-naive unusually-vulnerable people who let their guard down around anyone speaking the right shibboleths. (That describes pretty much any ideological movement at this stage. Sorry.)

And some of them are just lonely people desperate to belong to something, who think that they’ve found your movement’s cheat codes for belonging. Some of them are fetishist-types who don’t have the whatever-it-takes to be one of your natural true believers, but who admire or desire that thing, and hope that they can be around their favorite people and get a Your Movement GF or whatever.

Often they’ll be harmless. Sometimes they really, really, really won’t. There will be more of them than you expect.

At the very least, they’re a marker of success. Apparently you’re worth exploiting!

**********

You’ll know that you’ve really made it, as a movement, when you start getting the fifth wave of converts: the status-mongers. They’re joining up with you because they think it will be good for their social lives or their careers -- not in an “I’m going to be the guy who gets rich off of this” kind of way, but in a much lower-key “this makes me look cool or smart or moral, this is good for my reputation” kind of way. They want the generic approval that comes from being on the forefront of the zeitgeist, and apparently the forefront of the zeitgeist is where you are, now. Congratulations.

The arrival of the status-mongers represents a crisis point for your ideology. There will be a lot of them; they’ll soon outnumber all your other people by an order of magnitude or more. (Status-mongers attract more status-mongers, as each one makes it clearer to the world-at-large that your ideology is in fact cool.) They will become the general public’s image of your movement, whether you like it or not. Most of them definitely will not get your Whole Thing, not really. They are interested mostly in being comfortable, in showing off to unenlightened mainstream audiences, and in using your doctrine as a cudgel to beat on their personal rivals.

At this point you don’t really have to fear disappearing into obscurity, but you’re in more danger than ever of losing your way and becoming something totally alien. The status-mongers will be doing their level best to make that happen. You will also start attracting enemies far more powerful and dangerous than any you’ve known before. Anything truly popular and high-status represents a threat to someone big. You need to start prepping for persecution, culture war, and other varieties of large-scale social conflict.

**********

If you can weather all that and come out on top, you finally get the sixth wave of converts, the big prize: the normies. People will join your movement because that’s what everyone else is doing, because that’s what they’ve been taught, because they don’t want to stand out or make waves, because they don’t really care and you represent a plausible default.

Most of the people out there are normies.

That’s the endgame, the victory condition for an expansionist ideology: that you are the normies’ choice.

**********

These are the groups that are out there. This is what you’ll get, when you turn your gaze toward the path of growth. This, and not whatever visions of radical social transformation dance before your eyes when you look at your beloved allies who are just like you.

Brace yourself for it.

#culture engineering #social analysis

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perhapsitmaybedragons · 4 years

Text

God’s A Right Bastard But Then So Am I chapter 6

All right, new chapter

As always, can be read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633029/chapters/65460328

or continue below:

Crowley had taken off like a shot from his room and into the Bentley, driving faster than even he usually dared. He darted in and out of traffic, biting his lip so hard he was drawing blood. The whole point of not telling Aziraphale had been to keep the damn angel safe this time, and yet he'd still managed to get drawn in. Crowley mentally damned Gabriel, Hastur, God herself and anyone else he could think to blame for this situation.

He pulled up on the curb and came to a screeching halt before flinging the car door open and running inside the book shop. The smell of apple pie filled the air the moment the door was open. Anathema and Newt were waiting for him in the front of the book shop.

“Has he left, then?”

“No,” Anathema shook her head, then jerked a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the backroom. “They're still baking. Aziraphale insisted on a complex lattice.”

“Of course he did,” Crowley's eyes couldn't be seen behind his glasses, but Anathema would bet good money he was rolling them. “Has Gabriel said anything? Done anything threatening?”

“I mean, he seems pretty nice,” Newt offered, then immediately wished he hadn't. Crowley was glaring at him. “He is an angel, right? Can they really be all that bad? Especially since the world's not going to end anymore?”

“Crowley!” Crowley had to bite back his comment to Newt – Gabriel had come into the front room of the shop. “How good to see you. It's been a while, hasn't it?”

“It's been a few weeks,” Crowley answered flatly. “Since you took Aziraphale and tried to kill him.”

“And we're so sorry about that,” Gabriel said with a beatific smile.

“Oh? You told him you're sorry, did you?”

“It's all water under the bridge. We're making an apple pie.”

“I heard. Seems a bit American for Aziraphale's tastes,” Crowley let his voice get a little louder, trying to summon Aziraphale without being obvious. “Thought he might prefer a ...a uh ...a crumble or something. Lots of different things can be done with-” and now his voice caught as another thought came to him. “Why apple?”

“Just happened to have some,” Gabriel's smile quickly turned to a smirk. “Beautiful ones. I'd let you try one, but just enough for the pie. You know how it is. But I did want to speak to you.”

“I'm sure you do,”

“It's just...that was a neat trick you two pulled,” Gabriel gave an innocent looking shrug. “One might think someone had tipped you both off and you'd prepared for it. I mean, a demon not being harmed by holy water...how did you manage that?”

“Gone native, I guess. Wouldn't hurt a human. I do suppose I've been up here too long.”

“Ah, but hell fire would kill a human. So how do you suppose Aziraphale survived that?”

“Maybe he's just stronger than your lot wants to give him credit for.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale chose the exact worst moment to come out from the backroom. “There you are! We're making a lovely pie, and Adam's been a huge help,” Sure, Gabriel had already seen it, but Crowley hadn't been expecting the pink, frilly 'Kiss the Cook' apron, complete with angel wings on the back where it tied.

“Angel,” He grimaced. “Seriously?”

“Well, I think it will turn out quite well. Pies can be a bit tricky, but the lattice work is lovely. What did you say you needed this for, Gabriel?”

“Ah, well, that is a secret,” Gabriel wagged his finger. “But it's still got what – an hour more to bake?”

“At least,” Aziraphale nodded his agreement.

“Then I would like to have a word with the two of you.”

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Anathema spoke up. “We were there at the end last time. Whatever you have to say to them, you can say to us,” she grabbed Newt's hand and pulled him closer, both of them trying to stand up to their full height. Newt wasn't sure this was a good idea, but he was following her lead.

“No, no. Just the three of us. We're going for a little ride, and we'll be back before the pie burns.” It wouldn't work on Adam, but the tone of voice Gabriel adopted was more than enough to hypnotize a human man and his witch girlfriend. They both froze in their place, eyes blank and wide open. “I'll turn them back to normal after we speak. Now, to my car?”

“Since when do you have a car?” Aziraphale asked, but he hurried along after Gabriel, Crowley following as well. Outside of the shop a white limo had just pulled up. Hastur jumped out of the back and held the door open.

“Get in,” he said gruffly.

“This seems pretty high up on the list of bad ideas,” Aziraphale said softly to Crowley.

“You can get in or we can torch the shop,” Hastur's hand was on fire and he was looking at the book shop lecherously.

“Very well,” Aziraphale climbed in without another word. Crowley followed him, making a mental note of all of the curse words he would like to shout at everyone right now. But this was a chance to put more of the puzzle pieces together, and he couldn't waste the opportunity.

Crowley and Aziraphale scooted along to one side of the limo as Gabriel took a seat on the other side. Hastur lumbered back in and sat next to Gabriel, though both looked uncomfortable with the seating arrangement.

“We have our suspicions on how you two didn't die last time,” Gabriel started, then knocked on the roof to signal the driver. The limo started and pulled away from the shop. “See, the thing is...that doesn't matter. Because things are moving now.”

“You can't want to restart it all!” Aziraphale said incredulously. “The plan is ineffable – it must have been what She wanted the whole time!”

“I really hate that word,” Gabriel echoed the same sentiments Crowley had had more than once. “But no, we have reason to believe the Almighty has been ...compromised. The plan needs to go forward as She originally planned it all those thousands of years ago. She set it down, and there was never any talk of it changing.”

“So why tell us, then?” Crowley asked. “It's not as though either of us are on your side. You planning on ending this ride with killing us?”

Gabriel wagged his finger again. Crowley wanted to bite it off. “No, no. Not yet. See...you boys made a mockery of everything we stand for. We're not going to make it easy for either of you this time,” he leaned towards Aziraphale. “This time, we're going to destroy your demonic boyfriend in front of you. Then we'll take care of you. But before either one of you...you both get to watch the world end. All of that hard work you both put in – poof! Gone, right in front of both of you.”

“And you're not at all concerned we'll manage to stop you again?” Aziraphale asked, but before Gabriel could answer, he added “And back at the shop – you promised our young Adam that you wouldn't bother me or my bookshop again. Gave your word as an angel.”

Crowley stiffened. Aziraphale noted the change and made a mental note to ask him about it later – provided Gabriel really was going to take them back without incident.

“Which is why our side gets to do it,” Hastur finally jumped in, clearly relishing the words. “Their side gets to do in Crowley, our side gets you. This time there won't be any way for you to stop it. Either of you,” His attention was on Crowley now.

Crowley, as usual, was too cool for Hastur's tastes. He didn't seem bothered by the conversation, or even a little worried. It wasn't terribly fun threatening someone who wouldn't get scared.

“Well,” Crowley checked his watch, “As enlightening as a conversation as this was, I suspect the pie might start burning if we don't get back soon.”

“Oh, I think it still has some time-” Aziraphale leaned over to glance and Crowley's watch. “Yes, see, we have-”

“But human ovens aren't the most precise, so wouldn't it be best if we got back to it? Then Gabriel could be on his way with his pie and we could get to...”

“Taking Adam back to Tadfield,” Aziraphale supplied.

Gabriel knocked again on the roof of the limo and it turned itself around, heading back the way it had came. “You'll be glad to know that some of this came from you, Crowley.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Big part of the plan came from one of yours. An original design, I think.” Gabriel waited for his words to sink in. Crowley had already figured this part out, but now Aziraphale's eyes were widening as something dawned on him.

“Gabriel ..um...if you don't mind my asking... where exactly did those apples come from?”

Now Gabriel looked triumphant. He sat up, waved his hands and the pie appeared on his lap. “Seems it's done. We'll just drop you boys off at your shop, eh? Thank you so much for your help with our preparations, Aziraphale. Couldn't have done it without you. Or Crowley, for your inspiration. Thanks again.” An invisible force sent the pair flying out of the limo and onto their butts on the sidewalk in front of the shop.

“Those aren't-” Aziraphale started.

“They are. Bastards must have gone back into Eden for them.”

“But Crowley ...why? Whatever could they do with them?”

“I dunno,” Crowley admitted. “I've got some ideas and all of them are equally terrible.”

“And where have you been lately? You haven't even taken my calls.”

“Angel. We do not have time right now,” Crowley insisted, holding the door open and urging Aziraphale inside. The angel obliged him, but looked irritated.

“So when will we have time?”

“Oi! Where did you two go?” Adam demanded. He had apparently woken Anathema and Newt from their hypnosis. Anathema looked a little dizzy and Newt was hunched over and trying not to vomit. “I woke them up but they seem a little...not right.”

“Odd. Heavenly miracles shouldn't leave them so ...out of sorts. Let me make you some peppermint tea. Or maybe ginger?”

“Peppermint,” Newt asked as he felt his stomach lurch. “Sorry,” he said, looking at the mess he'd just made. “I promise I'll clean it up...soon as I'm...soon as I'm done,” he vomited again.

“Might just be him punishing them for helping last time,” Crowley suggested. “You can't pretend that heaven doesn't hold a grudge,” he gestured at himself for emphasis. He conjured up chairs for them and helped them sit down, then pushed a trash can in front of Newt.

“So they are restarting, then?” Anathema asked and gave a shiver. “Can't give us just a little bit of peace before they want to try again?”

“Hell hath no fury – except it does, and heaven does, too,” Crowley leaned back against a bookshelf, thinking hard. “The good news is they need new riders – I'm not sure why they can't get the old ones, but they mentioned replacements.”

“No they didn't,” Aziraphale came back in holding a silver service tray with a pot of steaming tea and four cups, as well as various additions. “I didn't hear Gabriel or Hastur say anything about needing new riders.”

“It's something I've uncovered,” Crowley admitted, waving away the tea he was being offered.

“Is that why you haven't been coming around?” Adam asked, accepting his own cup of tea and adding a truly heaping spoonful of sugar to it. “Cause you were busy spying?” He smiled his approval when Crowley nodded. “Wicked. I'd have helped if you told me to. I'm pretty good at sneaking around when I have to. My mom can never hide my presents from me.”

“This was a bit higher stakes than that.”

“And you didn't tell me?” Aziraphale looked huffy.

“...sorry. I just – I thought you could use a break this time. I was hoping not to get any of you involved and that maybe I could shut it down early this time.”

“Well, I suppose it's a little too late to get upset. After all,” Aziraphale took a sip of tea, “We all need to focus on what we can do to stop it again. I wonder if there's any chance I can take this up to Head Office...She didn't answer last time but-”

“She won't answer this time, either.”

“Why would you think that, Crowley?”

“Angel, She didn't answer last time, and Gabriel as good as told us – they said they thought She's been compromised. We have to do this without Her. ...Again.”

“I suppose you're right.”

“The riders last time had negative auras,” Anathema offered. “I could try to look around for that again. It'd be hard, but worth a shot, right?”

“Can't hurt,” Crowley agreed. “But our highest need right now is keeping Adam out of their hands – they don't have a way to replace the Anti-Christ. No Anti-Christ, no end of the world.”

“That is true,” Aziraphale agreed. “Adam, do you suppose you could call your parents and ask to spend some time here?”

“I'm sorry, won't most parents think that's kind of dodgy?” Newt was still shivering when he looked up. “I mean, my mom wouldn't have liked me being eleven years old and staying with a much older male friend who wasn't related to us and didn't have kids my age.”

“I think he'll find his parents are very accommodating – though I do see what you're getting at. Adam, you can use the phone over there-”

“No need, I got a cell phone,” Adam dialed and moved to another room to make the call.

“See, Crowley?” Aziraphale smiled softly in Adam's direction. “He doesn't want to do it, he knows right and wrong. There's nothing to worry about. What could possibly change his mind this time?"

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #anathema #gabriel #newt #newton pulsifer #adam #adam young #anathema device #fanfiction #fanfic #good omen fanfic

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lady-of-the-spirit · 4 years

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I honestly kinda agree. Really, looking at it from their perspectives, Aziraphale and Crowley were terrible employees. Of course, nothing justifies attempted execution and I'm glad the Apocalypse was prevented, but like, I get why. Especially if God has been so vague about everything.

Of course, trying to bring about the Apocalypse and attempting to execute your employees is objectively terrible behaviour, but really. Aziraphale and Crowley were the worst employees. But only because they both actually experienced earth and human life and had the chance to say “hey, no, let’s not end everything.”

And also, for Heaven and Hell, it’s like... this one big event they’ve all been planning for all of eternity, it’s what they’ve all been waiting for, what their lives post-original war have been leading up to, and now what? What’s going to happen now? What are their roles now? Sure, they’re still angels and demons, trying to better or worsen humanity, but what’s the point now that all their plans are ruined and there’s no guarantee the apocalypse will happen in the future? They’ve all lived life in very rigid roles and now they don’t have that. (I think a lot of angels and demons had some existential crises after everything went down.)

And Crowley killed Ligur (in self-defence but still, very gruesome), so I think all of Hastur’s behaviour towards Crowley after that was justified because that was his best friend!

#ask #Anonymous

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go-events · 4 years

Photo

GO Rom Com Spotlight: @musegnome

The most excellent @musegnome has claimed The Wedding Singer to adapt for Good Omens in the Good Omens Rom Com Event.

For reference, here’s a little background about the source material!

About The Wedding Singer: Set in 1985, Adam Sandler plays a nice guy with a broken heart who's stuck in one of the most romantic jobs in the world, a wedding singer. He loses all hope when he is abandoned at the altar by his fiancé. He meets a young woman named Julia (Drew Barrymore), who enlists his help to plan her wedding. He falls in love with her and must win her over before she gets married.

We spent some time chatting about how the adaptation is coming so far, as well as future plans for it! Now, get to know @musegnome a little better!

* * *

goromcom: You know how if you open a Tumblr chat with someone you haven't chatted to before, Tumblr tells you two things they post about? I wanted to tell you that yours reports that you post "about #goromcom and #good omens." Aww! goromcom 4eva!

musegnome: #goromcom 4eva indeed! I actually have a weird online social media anxiety, because I worry that can't read people like I can in person. I've been an accountless Tumblr lurker for years - and finally created Tumblr and Discord accounts when I signed on to the Rom Com event! Everyone has been lovely. Please come say Hi on my new Tumblr!

goromcom: And we’re happy to have you! You chose to adapt The Wedding Singer as your rom com. Has this movie been a favorite of yours, or is there some other reason you chose it?

musegnome: I was a teenager when this movie came out and I've loved it forever (though not of course without an eye toward its more problematic qualities). I also feel like Robbie and Julia map very well to Crowley and Aziraphale respectively, and a lot of the other characters connect wonderfully too (Glenn's attitude toward Julia was reminiscent of Gabriel's attitude toward Aziraphale; Robbie's brother-in-law's nipple-twisting comments were a great way to link to Shadwell, etc.) Because of the aforementioned online social anxiety I was hesitant to jump in to the event, but when I realized I had a list of almost all the GO characters connected to Wedding Singer ones, and a multi-chapter story line outlined, I took the plunge! I'm really excited to mix up a favorite nostalgic movie with my current GO obsession.

goromcom: What's your favorite moment of The Wedding Singer, and are you looking forward to presenting it in your adaptation? Any loose plans for that scene that you can share?

musegnome: Less a favorite moment and more some favorite scenes/lines. The scene where Robbie is talking to the woman who jilted him at the altar, Linda, and as she's telling him about all the reasons she doesn't want to marry him, he says "You know, that information might have been a little more useful to me yesterday." I quote this line all the time, and that scene is definitely making it into this fic! Along with the whole wedding cake/dress shopping montage, capped by the bit where Robbie and Julia listen to the rival wedding singer John Lovitz (to be replaced by Hastur and Ligur ...with Ligur singing "I Will Survive"). That's actually the next scene up for me to write, and just writing this description has me antsy to get started!

goromcom: Oh, some Ligur irony there! It sounds like you may plan to stick closer to the story beats of the original movie rather than making bigger changes?

musegnome: Pretty closely. The major events and scenes will be the same as the Wedding Singer (but stuffed with GO tropes like a turducken), and there's a few original scenes I'm adding to firm up the Wedding Singer/GO bridges. I'm still working on the ending - in the movie, Glenn and Julia get on a plane to go get married in Las Vegas, and Robbie gets on the same plane and stops them. But I have Gabriel as Glenn, and since the angel/demon characters are still angels and demons in this fic, I can NOT imagine Gabriel tolerating plane travel at all, or viewing Las Vegas with anything other than horrified fascination. I have a tentative plan that will be a major change from the Wedding Singer ending, but would tie into the Nazi church scene in GO. We'll see how it plays out though; characters can veer off in unexpected directions!

goromcom: What's an interesting decision you've made in your planning so far--a notable casting decision, a changing of venue, or some other plan you have to paint Good Omens all over your rom com?

musegnome: I thought about doing the fic as a full human AU, but I had a lot of touches I wanted to include that involved angelic/demonic abilities. So I have the Wedding Singer town of Richfield (which is of course Tadfield in the fic) as a kind of neutral space where the angels/demons come to tinker and thwart each other in the happy parts/miserable parts of weddings and wedding planning. Also, The Wedding Singer was almost as much a tribute to the 1980s as it was a romcom; I'm not doing a specific 80s focus, although I've tried to keep music and technology mentions such that the fic could vaguely be set in the 80s. Like I mentioned earlier, a lot of the characters have similar roles and personalities, and map really well - Robbie and Julia as Crowley and Aziraphale, their respective BFFs Holly and Sammy as Anathema and Newt, Glenn as Gabriel, Rosie (the lady Robbie is teaching to sing) as Madam Tracy... so it's been fun to draw those lines.

goromcom: I am blatantly stealing this last question from The Good Place: The Podcast, but here goes: Tell me something "good". It can be something big or small. It can be a charity you think is doing good work, or you can talk about how great your pet is.

musegnome: Not to belabor a point, or to gush too much, but everyone on the GO RomCom server has been a delight. I've really loved getting to interact with everyone - couldn't be a nicer group (or a more welcoming fandom) for a socially anxious gnome to dip online toes into! And I haven't written for fun in a very, VERY long time, and it's been a real confidence booster to see how easily the writing has been flowing so far. (Hope I haven't just jinxed myself....) I'm so thrilled about this whole experience. Also, I have a very cute tiny dog who likes to keep me company while writing.

goromcom: Adorable!

Stay tuned for the GO adaptation of The Wedding Singer, coming soon!

#goromcom #goromcom spotlight #good omens #musegnome #the wedding singer

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