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halemerry · 10 months

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So there's a lot to unpack here but I want to start by talking about the ending and specifically about the Metatron and the calculating moves made at the end of episode 6.

Every single piece of what happened there was a manipulation technique being employed against Aziraphale to an almost brilliant degree and I'm honestly a little obsessed with what this says about the Metatron in particular.

Let's go in order.

First of all. We see him order coffee. In a human body. Something sweet and sugary. He talks to Nina and asks her about her shop name. Does anyone ever ask for death? And when she tells him no they don't his response is to say "so predictable". Our introduction to him here even when everything about him reads like a sweet old man is presented to show us someone who reads the world in terms of being predictable to him.

He then shows up in the middle of Aziraphale's existence being threatened. He immediately cuts down the threat's authority (using outdated language like Az himself would favor) and reemphasizes his own connection to Heaven. When Michael doesn't recognize him and he puts her down and then directly engages Crowley. Crowley who, to Aziraphale, has for centuries at a minimum been someone he thinks is smarter, better, more Good than these other archangels. The Metatron validates these beliefs. Crowley is more Heavenly than these archangels who couldn't even recognize the voice of God when he was standing right in front of them.

The Metatron draws attention to the fact he's in a human body. The kind of body Aziraphale has been in and loved for nearly 6000 years. He then banishes the archangels, implying their morality is in a gray space, and validates Muriel someone we have seen Aziraphale react positively to and someone outside the current power structure. Look at me, he's saying. I see and validate the little guy.

He then tries to talk to Aziraphale. Aziraphale says "I've made my position quite clear." And then the Metatron offers Aziraphale the coffee. This bartering chip, consuming sustenance, is a thing that Aziraphale and Crowley have used as their connective tissue for centuries. It's an olive branch for them. It's giving Aziraphale bodily pleasure and the Metatron implies that he himself has partaken also - a thing we know that Aziraphale has struggled historically with moralizing. He is seen by the closest thing he has left to his parent and he is having old fears validated as safe and old habits being played upon to make him feel secure

He then REMOVES Aziraphale from his home turf. Not only does he remove Crowley from the equation but he takes Aziraphale from the place that has stood as a place of sanctuary throughout the entirety of the season. The shop is Safe and Aziraphale is leaving it and he is leaving the one person who might be able to smell the bullshit coming from the Metatron. The music notably turns absolutely dire here.

The next time we see them the Metatron tells Aziraphale that he doesn't need to answer instantly. He can take his time, if he likes. All the time he needs. And then tells him to go tell Crowley. Once again bringing Crowley in as a valid part of this while manufacturing a scenario where he can't possibly be.

Az ends up in a place where he's overwhelmed and confused and he wants so badly to believe what he's being told. It's an appealing thing from his perspective! He feels off kilter like he's made a mistake in judging the Metatron. He can't even fully articulate what happened to Crowley at first and he's had absolutely no real time to actually think it through. He's running on sheer reactive energy.

The Metatron starts their conversation by asking Aziraphale's opinion. Who should rule Heaven? This is once again playing into making Az feel validated and like he's a part of this decision making process. The Metatron corrects him, complimenting Aziraphale and making him feel capable and in control. He reassures Aziraphale's bafflement. And draws attention to some traits that, while true of Aziraphale around Crowley, are not his defining traits in the eyes of Heaven. You don't just tell people what they want to hear I find particularly notable in this regard given Aziraphale spent most of his time on earth actively lying to Heaven and doing just that. But it fits into the narrative Aziraphale has built around himself, especially post Apocalypse. The Metatron then says I need you (a phrase Az will use much more painfully here in a minute).

And even after all this Aziraphale says no. He says flat out he doesn't want to go back to Heaven. He says this!!! And then the Metatron sweetens the pot. He swaps tactics. Not once has this come up until Aziraphale pushes back against the idea. If the Metatron could've gotten him without using it I have no doubt he wouldn't have bothered with it. Come to Heaven and we can save Crowley. Aziraphale loves Crowley. Aziraphale thinks Crowley is better than any of the angels he's interacted with. Crowley is Good and Nice and Kind and always saving him and now he's being presented with a way to return that. He can Forgive Crowley - a thing Crowley has always presented to Aziraphale as something he struggles with. All of these things Aziraphale has watched Crowley react to in a way that belittles himself or distances them from one another. Of course he wouldn't consider that maybe what he was actually saying is "I'm unforgivable and I don't want that forgiveness."

The Metatron offers Aziraphale a Dream Offer for the pre Armageddon Aziraphale. You can keep your Crowley. You can heal him like you have always thought he deserved. You can have power and control the people who for your whole existence has beaten you down. It can go back to how it was but BETTER.

When Aziraphale leaves he still hasn't answered. He goes and has the conversation they have. It's intense and emotional and the Metatron comes in after the Moment all casual and asks how it goes, knowing fully well the shitstorm he had just set up to get created. And then he turns around and says "always did want to go his own way" which is not only true of Crowley but framed as a bad thing despite the fact that he has just spent twenty minutes or so telling Aziraphale that he's done his own thing and that is Good. He is playing both sides of this perspective as it suits him. And then he cuts down Crowley asking questions, pressuring Aziraphale to avoid doing the same. He then proceeds to ask Aziraphale not if he's made up his mind but if he's ready to get started. He is one by one closing off exit routes to this thing as Aziraphale starts to look more and more panicked and indecisive. He makes sure the bookshop is in good hands and asks Aziraphale if there's anything he needs to take with him. Letting Aziraphale have the illusion of choice while cutting down "I don't want to" as an option altogether.

And Az, as soon as the Metatron is out of shot, tries to express this. And then he falls back right on old coping methods. The Metatron pats him on the head. Reassures that he's the right one for this. That he is Good. That his particular skillset is needed here.

It is a masterstroke of manipulation. A very dark twist on what we see Crowley do time and time again with Aziraphale throughout the millennia. Familiar in a way that makes Aziraphale feel safe. Except this time this is being used to put him back in line. It's brilliant and painful and it fucking hurt and I need a season 3 to see the Metatron get what's coming to him stat.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #gos2 spoilers #good omens spoilers #Metatron #Aziraphale #Episode 6 #Every Day #good omens meta

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thethingswedotomorrow · 7 months

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Crowley has been with humanity since the beginning. The original serpent of eden, he is the first "monster" in humanity's bedtime stories. He is the figurative and literal demon on human's shoulders, always there to guide them one way or another. He's weaved through history itself, and prides himself on an impeccable track record of demonic activity throughout the last 6000 years.

But, naturally, after 6000 years, Crowley finds that he's spent more time pining after a certain Angel than doing any sort of work. Like, an extreme amount of pining.

And it isn't until after the notpocalypse that Crowley realizes that, entirely accidentally and very embarrassingly, he may have accidentally made his pining very, very public.

One of Crowley's favorite ways to waste a day is to take Aziraphale to different museums around the world and watch as the angel wanders around and points out all of the inaccuracies

"Good Lord Crowley, have you seen this painting? Portraying you as a dragon is a tad dramatic, I think. All we were doing were having a picnic. And I have never had my hair looking like that, thank you."

"I don't know Angel, they've got your wings spot on. Wa-Hang on, have they added horns to my head?"

"Oh, I see, suddenly it's only inaccurate when they've got you wrong."

The museums always seem to be miraculously empty, and whenever Crowley mentions this, Aziraphale suddenly finds a new, very interesting piece of art to admire

Crowley admires the lengths Aziraphale goes to to hide the small miracles he's done for Crowley's sake

As if Crowley wouldn't move literal mountains for the angel

*He did, actually, do that once.

In the 12th century, they were having a lovely evening together with multiple caskets of wine, up until Aziraphale complained about the amount of light in his eyes

"Honestly Crowley, all this sun and no shade, it must truly be awful for the humans around here with no shelter. It's a tad much, even for me."

Crowley, even then, immediately recognized this off-hand comment as an underhanded complaint, and knew that would not stand

When the small earthquake passed, Crowley claimed that the nearby church was on a fault line and he was simply doing his demonic duty by damaging holy goods in the area

If Aziraphale realized that the mountain range in the distance suddenly provided much more sun coverage, he never mentioned it.

Currently, however, Crowley follows Aziraphale around, wandering behind him and never truly looking at the things in the museum

In every single place they've ever gone together, there was only ever one thing that deserved Crowley's attention

And it certainly was not an inaccurate model of a 18th century tea set

But when Aziraphale wanders into a hall titled 'Love of the Past', he starts to panic. Just a very tiny amount, basically none at all. A small enough amount of panic that he could deny it, even to himself.

He thinks about the past, towards the beginning, back when Humanity was still getting it's footing and figuring out how to have governments and societies and (the most important part) figuring out the whole alcohol situation

Throughout the years, especially towards the beginning, Crowley began to resent any time not spent with Aziraphale

Everything seemed small and dull when compared to the way the Angel smiled when he saw new type of human dessert, or the way he laughed when Crowley managed to work out a clever comment

And once Crowley experienced those things, he never wanted anything else

He had seen the poetry the humans had written, how much emotion they could pour into a simple piece of parchment or a clay tablet

He never cared for written word, but he was shocked at just how much feeling the humans could manage to pour into words

So after Aziraphale left Rome (after the oysters and the wine and the smiles, for somebody's sake the smiles), he went due east for a new miracle on another continent

Crowley stayed and got well and truly drunk. As he did best.

He had spent a few weeks around the other drunks around the area, most poverty stricken and saddened with some sort of grief of one type or another

It wasn't until a group of poets wandered into his dark corner of the pub that he started to considered writing

Obviously nothing anyone would ever read, he'd ensure that. Every scroll or parchment that he'd touch with a quill would be burnt with hellfire before it left his sight

But, as many of his worst ideas started, he had nothing better to do and too much time to think

So he wrote. He wrote letters, first addressed to nobody, about random thoughts that would pop into his very intoxicated brain. Whether humans would ever find traces of the unicorns they lost on the ark, whether he would ever find a way to count just how many scales he had, whether he would ever reach a point where he didn't have to cover his eyes every day

Slowly, the letters started becoming addressed to 'A'. Whether he was conscious of this or not, he'd never admit.

But he wrote. He wrote to A about Hell, the jobs they required of him, the things they'd have him do. He wrote of the way humans had beaten him to the punch 90% of the time. How they would do things worse than Satan himself could imagine, and they'd never blink an eye while doing it.

He wrote of the way the sun darkened each day that passed without his Angel, the way his wine never seemed to have enough flavor when he was alone.

He wrote of the ways he imagined he could orchestrate an elaborate reunion, a convoluted mess of too much demonic activity in a small area that just happened to have a wonderful new tea, or so he's heard, and wouldn't it be a shame to leave the town without tempting the angel to try it?

He wrote to A about how he was sure he had no heart, no emotions. He was a Demon, for somebody's sake, he certainly had no need for stupid things like that, and so the ache in his corporation's chest when he sees the Angel had to be some sort of malfunction.

Anatural function, surely, that could be fixed with the right amount of aloofness and strong liquor

He wrote of the way the sun always seemed to hit the Angel's hair just right, and Crowley had no faith, he had no God.

But in those moments, with a halo around the angel and that smile aimed towards him, he might consider praying now to a different source altogether, a closer source. One full of life and light and actual proper goodness, not that fake advertised bullshit they plaster on church walls in pretty paintings and sad songs

Crowley wrote for a long while, and found that the writing helped the pain.

Even if only because it brought on memories of Aziraphale, and that was enough to hold him until they met again. It had to be, he had no choice in the matter.

And he wrote so often throughout the ages, and often while he was drunk. And he was so sure, so positive that he had burned every trace of his heart and emotion out of existence.

He had to be. The danger those words could put Aziraphale in was far too great. He couldn't be bothered to care of the danger to himself, but the fact that the very hint of any emotion could come close to hurting his Angel was enough to ensure that they would never come across another being's eyes.

He destroyed every letter and word that described his desire, his pain, his greed. He ripped the words he created out of reality as easily as he had written them. Every time, he burnt the parchment, and every time, it burnt a part of him with it.

And then the Apocalypse had happened. Or, well, didn't happen, he supposed. Really, he wasn't entirely sure if there was a difference.

Because everything had changed, even if the rest of the world hadn't noticed. And he was suddenly allowed to see Aziraphale with no excuse, no half-hearted reasoning behind it. He was allowed to want, and to crave, and he relished it.

And he was allowed to take the angel to museums to watch him fuss over small mistakes humanity had collected throughout the ages

Until he realized that they had, in fact, also collected HIS mistakes.

In a hall. A whole bloody hall. A hall, dedicated to and full of stupid parchment and sappy letters and wine stains over words written so long ago

And honestly who gave them the right? Leave it to the humans to collect other people's belongings and put it on display as their own

And he knew, from the moment Aziraphale read the first page on display, he just knew. This was it. All of it was ruined.

All because Crowley had gotten so drunk and passed out in his room above the pub, and when they'd thrown him out in a drunken stupor, they'd collected his belongings to sell afterwards. And he'd never even realized, so concerned about the next meeting, the arrangement, concerned about anything and everything except the one thing he forgot about and could end them both.

Any moment now, Aziraphale would look up at him, with disgust and confusion and all those emotions that he'd really rather not see on his face, preferably ever, but especially not towards him.

But Aziraphale never looks up. He reads the first page 5, 6, 7 times, being sure to capture every single word. Every wrinkle in the paper, every crease.

Then he moves to the next, and then the next. He repeats this process. Every page, he scours each and every page. Searching and scanning, analyzing every word.

Crowley is frozen at the entrance of the hall, too terrifed to say a word, but too hopeful to leave. He stands there, suddenly feeling the same feeling in his chest that he felt so many years ago, in the corner of the pub, sitting in the dark, wishing for the light that he knew would never come.

He's so panicked, that he doesn't notice Aziraphale finishing the last page, and wiping the tears from his eyes. He startles when he accidentally meets his eyes, and prepares a number of excuses and deflections, all to preserve this shred of peace and safety they had carved out for themselves.

"Angel, I- you really- ngk- humans are so rid- are you hungry? I could eat, I've heard they've got a killer bar around here, and we cou-I can get us there in 10 minutes, ngk actu- scratch that, we could be there in 5, I bet. Museums aren-angel?"

Crowley finds himself stopping the random stream of words coming out of his mouth, when he notices tears in Aziraphale's eyes

"Angel, I-"

That's all Crowley can get out before Aziraphale is walking towards him with a purpose

And suddenly Aziraphale is very close to him

Very very close

And suddenly Aziraphale's lips are on his, and Aziraphale is holding onto Crowley's jacket, and Crowley's hands are just waving in the air back and forth while he processes the last .5 seconds.

By the time he realizes what is actually happening, Aziraphale pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against Crowley's, and laughs.

He laughs. Laughs. Aziraphale is laughing and it's a wonderful, beautiful noise and Crowley doesn't quite understand why, but then he's laughing too and then they are both standing there, arms around each other, laughing and Crowley realizes now that all the words he's written, all the praises he sang of his Aziraphale, the way he wished and prayed for his heart and laugh and love

Not one bit of it is at all comparable to the real thing.

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vroomvroomwee · 9 months

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Aziraphale's vest

I'd like to take a second and talk about his vest because I think it's a really good metaphor for Aziraphale's internal feelings.

At first glance it's obvious the vest is quite old. Really old in fact if you note the way it's practically disintegrating.

And it got me thinking a bit. The way the white practically bleeds from the edges of the neck, shoulders and buttons, going further and further, one day if he's persistent enough to wear it, it might even take over the entire vest. You could say that that, somehow, mirrors Heavens influence over Aziraphale. Slowly, slowly, biding their time, until it has completely ridden him of any colour. Until it has completely washed him of his identity, of his originality, of his character.

Take a look at his clothing when he's up in Heaven.

Completely and utterly white. Every piece of clothing he's wearing is pure and untarnished white. Upon entering Heaven, against his own accord, it has stripped him of his uniqueness, of anything that might distinguish him from any other angel who blindly follows orders and who's sole purpose is to do Heavens bidding.

Now, he could miracle the white patches on the vest away easily. But he doesn't want to.

The thing is. He likes the imperfect. He likes partaking in human activities and pleasures, like food, music, etc. Likes to indulge himself in earthly things Heaven would label as sinful or "sullying." And as someone who bas been on the receiving end of Heavens ridicule and passive aggression for millenia, as someone who for centuries has been told that he's underperforming and needs to do better, as someone who is all too aware of his own impurity by the standards an angel should hold and of the quite frankly unholy behaviour in performing immoral temptations and directly going against Heavens orders no more than a few times throughout the eras, it's no wonder he finds comfort in the imperfect.

He keeps the deteriorating edges because they are a perfect representation of his own internal feelings and image. After all, there's no rule that says he can't. And a big kudos to the costume department, for the patches perfectly encapsulate his religious trauma. Without it, he would probably be a very different person. He wouldn't be the same Aziraphale we know and love. The same way he likes being old-fashioned with his clothes and how that is a part of who he is, his trauma is a part of him as well, along with Heavens influence that has shaped him into who he is today, whether he likes it or not.

Every part of the vest illustrates Aziraphale's character and internal feelings, which brings me to another point I want to draw attention to, and that is the BACK of the vest.

It's DARK. And I don't think I'm mistaken when I say that most of us didn't expect it to look like that from behind. We all just assumed that it would be the same beige colour as the front, which is in tune with the rest of his attire. After all, seeing him wearing a dozen different outfits all throughout history, all of them some shade of white, it was the logical conclusion.

But no.

It's not white. It's a dark, slightly viridian or a dark blue colour. "Dark blue suggests a more mysterious depth or ominous quality. Power and authority: Dark blue signifies power and responsibility. "

Not what we would have expected that colour at all. Similarly to how one wouldn't expect an angel to perform temptations or be gluttonous, or envious, or slothful, or hedonistic. Not at first glance anyway.

Not unless you look carefully.

Not unless you know him.

The coat almost acts like a cover. The light over the dark. Almost as if it's trying to hide something. The only times we see Aziraphale not wearing the coat is in his bookshop. Which is logical, of course. You wouldn't wear a coat indoors, obviously. Except he DOES. He wears the coat when he and Crowley are drunk, he wears it when he's reading Agnes Nutter, he wears it when Gabriel and Sandalphon pop in, he wears it when he's talking to the Metatron, he wears it when he's listening to Shostakovich, he even wears it at the Ritz where it would be custom to take off your coat while dining. And it's worth noting that during the events happening (at least in the first season), the season is summer. Which would make it quite ridiculous to be wearing so many layers everywhere you go and therefore risk boiling. But he still wears the coat.

The only times he doesn't wear it is in the first episode after the sushi, when he's all ALONE, and in season 2 at the bookshop when Crowley comes back and in 1941.

And there's something oh so personal about that.

I don't think it's a coincidence that the darker part is specifically the back of the vest. There's always been this natural human instinct to protect yourself by never ever turning your back on a foe. And I don't think this is a conscious effort on Aziraphale's part, but rather genius writing, directing and costume design, and anyone who's watched and read Good Omens knows that almost nothing is coincidental.

Note this is probably the first time Aziraphale has called Crowley his friend, seeing how uncertain and doubtful he was to even say the word in this scene and how quick he was to deny their friendship in the Shakespeare scene. And the camera immediately cuts from Crowley to Aziraphale, who is turned away, whose back is turned to Crowley oh so casually without a care in the world. Just before he calls him his friend. His back is turned, and so is the dark part of his vest.

The dark part he only shows in his bookshop, when he's alone and there's no one there. The part that he now only shows to Crowley as well. Crowley who knows him so well and who's been with him through everything. "I won't tell anyone if you won't." And "you said trust me""and you did". Just this small motion of Aziraphale depicts exactly how much trust he has in Crowley not only that he'll keep him safe and protected but to accept him just as he is, to not judge him, to not demean him for his imperfections as an angel. Practically mirroring Crowley's self-protection mechanism that is reflected in his motions to hide his eyes with his sunglasses (there's a wonderful meta on this by @simply-brightly-zee here )

And it might just be clothing, or it might just be genius symbolism, but note how self-aware Aziraphale is of his looks when Gabriel pops up.

The desire to impress is almost unconscious in this scene, and how does he go about doing it? By making sure he looks presentable. Presentable, despite the white patches and the vest that is falling apart, he doesn't even realise it. Therefore, it's clear Aziraphale puts thought into his clothes, whether consciously or unconsciously.

I personally dont think any of this (the coat, the patches, the way he turns his back, when, where and around who he's most comfortable) is a deliberate and intentional act on Aziraphales part but rather creative brilliance from the directors and producers. So him being shown to expose the back of the vest only in scenes with Crowley (and the one in s2 infront of an amnesiac Gabriel with the intelligence and awareness of a squirrel) is a master move on the costume department's part. The symbolusm being so small and imperceptible, but holding so much meaning. This small metaphor shows how much Aziraphale trusts Crowley and how comfortable he is around him. Crowley who knows about Aziraphale's transgressions, sins, unholy behaviours, lack of interest and dedication to his job, and overall "incompetence" as Aziraphale might put it and how he's "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing". Crowley, who will accept him and love him no matter what. Not despite those things, but because of those things.

They have found their "own side".

Edit: Not that important, but I just want to mention how, despite being tattered and falling apart, the vest is still in perfectly good condition. No matter the white seeping in and draining its colour, the vest doesn't have a single seam torn, not a button lost, perfect as the day it was bought. No matter what it's been put through, it's still kicking, whether by miracle or sheer willpower. Very much like the person wearing it.

#good omens #goodomens #aziraphale #crowley #goodomenss2 #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #good omens season 2 #aziracrow #goodomenss2spoilers #good omens meta #good omens analysis #analysis

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pandoa · 1 year

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Hello hello! Pando!!,for you even can I request

Zinnias &Snapdragons for idia?,just a lil theme of him and his s/o after hanging out!

Zinnias ~ “i miss you” “you just saw me, silly” “and? i wanna see you again so come back~”

Snapdragons ~ “this can’t be real…it feels too good to be real. tell me this is all a dream before i start believing”

~idia shroud x gender neutral reader~

AAAA thank you for requesting!! i had so much fun writing this one lol idia is always fun to write for~ hope you like it!

♡player two♡

For the first time in—well—forever, Idia Shroud had found that he did not wish to go home.

There the blue-haired boy stood under the dim lamp posts spread across Night Raven College, silent and still, as he stared at the iridescent glow coming from the moon with the multitude of stars accompanying it in the stratosphere. The sight had solaced him as it always did, and Idia had never failed to let the restful gleam of the moon entrance him all throughout the night. The housewarden then slowly walked the path back to his dorm room at Ignihyde, eager to make it back to the comforting sheets of his light blue bed. He imagined the disorderly mess that he was much too used to—even the thought of organizing the chaos left him with an odd discernment at the unfamiliarity of it all. He imagined the rows and rows of his beloved manga collection, the posters hung up on his walls, various electrical chords entwining his room like the veins of a living being, and, most importantly, the silence of it all. The silence that let him roam free from the taunting gazes of the public; the silence that let him escape.

Idia had always loved the night. Idia had always loved his dorm.

But staring at the night made him realize he had missed one main thing. You. Because for some strange reason, the moment the two of you bid your goodbyes, the instant you shut off your rather old gaming monitor, the second his two legs had managed to drag themselves out of Ramshackle, stepping further and further away from you, Idia had found that the moon he once adored was simply just a gray piece of matter waiting to mock him with the stars in the sky. That the comforting feeling of home was not complete without you there to fall asleep with him, empty bag of chips laying in your arms and inches away from falling to the ground. That the quietness he had once longed for pierced his ears like a sharp ache in his head every minute he was not surrounded by the frustrated groans or contagious laughter coming from your form each time he had beat you in a riveting game on your console.

It was weird.

Sure, you two had been dating for quite a while now—that he knows—however, since when did Idia ever dread alone time in his comfy, cozy, humble dorm room? Ramshackle wasn’t nearly half as up-to-date as Ignihyde had been, so what’s up?

Idia reluctantly continued walking back to the mirror chambers, crickets hidden in the trees chattering and chirping a midnight song, as he reminisced the time he had spent with you within the dark walls of your dorm’s lounge. His visit to Ramshackle was sudden on your part; an act of playful impulsiveness from Night Raven’s prefect. Crowley, as competent as could be, gifted you a rather out-dated gaming console featuring a copy of Magic Gario Cart—retro and rare among Twisted Wonderland’s gaming community. And knowing your boyfriend’s raging interest in video games of all kinds, you took your phone and immediately called him over to your dorm, as if on instinct.

The time spent playing games with you then dashed past in what seemed like an instant. Every second with you was a second he wished would never end, but it was still odd nonetheless. He had never been this way before, not to anyone. But then suddenly, with you around him, days spent outside his room weren’t as dreadful anymore. Isolation was a distant memory; anxiousness had faded away.

Idia found himself not wanting to leave just yet.

“This can’t be real… It feels too good to be real,” Idia muttered as his steps slowed, mind still processing the luck he had struck with you being his romantic partner, “Tell me this is all a dream before I start believing—”

Beep, beep! A small noise peeping out of the blue-haired boy’s pocket then interjected Idia’s roaming thoughts.

“Huh?”

Beep, beep! It rang again.

“H-Hello?” Idia hesitantly said as he stared at the amusing profile picture he had set for you on his phone, “(Y/n)?”

“Come back,” a stern and certain voice came from the other side of his phone, causing the Ignihyde housewarden to halt in concern.

“What?”

An exasperated sigh then escaped your mouth, tone wistful and as-a-matter-of-fact, “I said come back. I miss you.”

“You just saw me, silly.”

“And? I wanna see you again so come back~”

Idia pondered carefully of your request as a joking hand made its way towards his chin, imitating and feigning deep thought, “Fine. But only if you let me be Player One this round.”

“What? No way.”

“Why not?”

“Because Crowley gave the set to me, not you,” you said defending your position on your console, “Therefore, I will always be Player One. Plus, you get to be One when we play at your place; let me have this.”

“But I wanna be Player One.”

“And so do I.”

“Please?” Idia began to lightly beg.

“No.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll let you be Zoshi this time.”

The boy, begrudgingly, caved at your offer, “...Deal.”

“Good,” you grinned into your phone’s speaker, “Now get back here. There’s this level I found that we haven’t tried out yet.”

a/n: i love zoshi from magic gario cart on mimtendo

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #twst idia #idia x you #idia twisted wonderland #idia twst #ignihyde #gender neutral reader #blossom grove prompt event

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animeangelriku · 10 months

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in every picture that i drew (i saw you)

[Also read on AO3!]

Crowley chances upon the briefcase by accident.

Aziraphale’s gone out to pick up a few records and a package of coffee blends Maggie and Nina sent them, as well as a couple of sweets from his favorite bakery in town to celebrate that they’ve finally finished moving into their cottage.

Of course, there are still a few things left to tidy up—some trinkets, two or three books in the study, a pair of plants here and there—but for the most part, they’re done. This place is fully theirs now.

Crowley rubs at his chest, over where his demonic heart rests within his corporation. Oh. Oh, that’s new. That feeling of encompassing relief, of absolute certainty, of overwhelming calm. He… doesn’t dislike it, no. It’s just… something to get used to. And he’s got time to get used to it, doesn’t it? They both do. That’s—that’s part of the deal.

Fuck, there it is again, like the warmth of sitting close to a fire during a cold night. Of having Aziraphale’s tartan blanket tucked around him at the end of the day. Of catching the giddiness in Aziraphale’s voice with his mouth.

Crowley shakes his head to himself, snatches his mug of coffee from the kitchen isle, and heads upstairs, to their bedroom.

(Their bedroom, for Someone’s sake.)

He stands at the doorframe to simply take it in for a second. The rustic dresser doesn’t match the bedclothes in the slightest, the hideous combination of Crowley’s satin pillowcases and Aziraphale’s decades-old duvet and sheets, and the rug by the foot of the bed is a stark contrast to the hardwood floor, which is a contrast in itself to the marble tiles of the ensuite bathroom, and the bloody nightstands stick out like a sore thumb, and Crowley will be blessed to admit it’s his favorite room in the entire cottage, he loves it so fucking much. He could spend the rest of his immortal life here, as long as Aziraphale is with him.

Then something catches his eye.

Right there, beneath the bed, almost hidden by the corner of the rug, is something… brown. Kind of leathery looking.

Crowley kneels by the bed and pulls the object out. A bag? Some sort of briefcase? It’s definitely Aziraphale’s, if only because it’s at least eighty years old, but Crowley doesn’t remember ever seeing it before. And why is it that Aziraphale hid it under the bed? Instead of hanging it by the front door or putting it in their walk-in closet.

When Crowley stands with it, the latch pops open, and the contents of the briefcase spill out onto the floor. Nothing but several papers of different sizes: papyrus sheets, scrolls, scraps pieced together.

“Shit!” Crowley mutters. From the looks of it, at least there was nothing that could’ve broken or snapped apart, but if Aziraphale kept this stuff, it must be important, and Crowley doesn’t want to accidentally ruin any of it.

He kneels down to immediately start to get everything back inside the briefcase, except that his eyes catch the corner of one of the papers, and what he sees makes him stop.

It’s a sketch of him.

His hair is much longer than it’s been for a few decades, curls cascading down to his chest. The expression on his face is unguarded, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. He seems to be wearing a robe, though he can’t really tell, given that the sketch isn’t finished. It looks almost as if whoever drew this stopped once they reached his shoulders, like the artist got distracted or couldn’t bear to finish it.

Crowley stares at the piece of parchment for what feels like an eternity. It has no signature, and the nearly washed out black of the lines gives the impression that it’s much older than one would assume at first glance.

Did… did Aziraphale draw this?

Crowley picks up more of the pages still on the floor. They’re all sketches of him at different points in time. But not only that—they’re all instances in which he and Aziraphale met up throughout the millennia. The oldest sketches are the ones that are incomplete: Mesopotamia, Uz, Golgotha, Rome, Wessex, even their encounter outside the Globe Theater. Some of them are a little more detailed than others, sometimes including a bit of his arms and torso, but those, he finds, are the unfinished sketches.

Then the sketches change. They become a little more complex, a tad more alive, more like pictures than scribbled lines. There’s him in Paris, sitting across a table with a glass of wine and a plate of uneaten crepes in front of him; him in Edinburgh, his head thrown back and his mouth open with what seems to be a loud cackle; him in London, staring straight ahead as he holds out a folded piece of paper.

(The folded piece of paper is scratched out, covered by angry lines and splotches of ink, but Crowley knows exactly what it is. He knows exactly what words are written on it.)

Him in the backroom of the bookshop, having a drink with Aziraphale after the angel’s first professional magic performance.

(He can still remember how badly he shook as he raised the rifle to aim it at Aziraphale, the fear and nausea that he would betray his trust by discorporating him.)

Him in his car, holding a tartan thermos gently, carefully, in his hands.

(Aziraphale looked so bloody gorgeous, backlit by the neon lights of Soho. Crowley recalls his fingers twitching with the desire to cup his jaw and kiss him.)

Him on a bench, his lips curled up in a lazy, amused smile.

(“We will win, of course,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley allowed himself to think he meant the two of them.)

“My dear, I’ve been calling you for— Good Lord, what are you doing?!”

Crowley’s head snaps to the door of their bedroom (their bedroom, he still can’t get over that). Aziraphale is frozen in place, his eyes wide in shock and a beautiful blush pinkening his cheeks.

“Huh?” Crowley asks.

The angel rushes into action. Crowley remains stunned, cross-legged on the floor, while Aziraphale picks up the scattered pages and clutches them tightly to his chest.

“Why do you have these?!”

“I…” Crowley licks his lips, clears his throat. “The… bag. Briefcase. Under the bed.”

Aziraphale lets out a frustrated groan. “You weren’t supposed to ever see them!” Then he glares at the briefcase on the floor. “And you were supposed to be locked away, not hiding under the bed!”

The briefcase, Crowley thinks, seems to almost give a nonchalant shrug.

“Sorry,” Crowley says. His mind hasn’t stopped reeling with the realization that Aziraphale has been drawing him for millennia, and he feels a bit like he’s missed a step in this conversation.

The angel puffs out his cheeks and huffs out a breath. His brows knit into an upside-down vee that Crowley immediately wants to kiss away. “No, Crowley, I—I’m sorry. I should not have yelled at you, I was simply… surprised. I’ve kept these hidden for so long that I… I forgot I no longer have to.”

He kneels down by Crowley’s side. He looks at Crowley, and his face softens, and the corners of his mouth curl upwards in a shy smile. Crowley moves closer to him, brushing their shoulders together. With an exhale of air, Aziraphale spreads the sketches out in front of them.

There truly are so bloody many, it’s a miracle they all fit inside that briefcase.

“I suppose you have questions,” Aziraphale says.

“Sure,” Crowley agrees. “But you don’t owe me anything, angel. You can tell me whatever you want me to know.”

Aziraphale reaches out to push a strand of Crowley’s hair behind his ear.

“I didn’t mean to start sketching you,” the angel begins, his gaze back on the sheets of paper. “At first, I mean. I-it was an unconscious thing, you see. A-and whenever I realized what I was doing, I-I would stop, but I— Well, I couldn’t bring myself to destroy them, so I just… hid them instead.”

Crowley glances down at the first sketch he saw, with his long curls and unguardedness. He thinks it might be the first time he met Aziraphale as a demon, on top of that wall. He sure as fuck looks like a smitten, lovesick schoolboy.

Hell’s bells, he’s always worn his fucking heart on his sleeve, huh.

Aziraphale touches one of the pages closest to him: Crowley holding a coin between his fingers, about to toss him for Edinburgh.

“But no matter how hard I tried,” Aziraphale goes on, “I couldn’t stop completely. I would always find myself drawing you again, despite my futile attempts to push you out of my mind. You’ve always been there, one way or another.”

Crowley bites his lip to stop the words from spilling out: It’s always been the same for me, too, angel.

The space between their bodies is nonexistent now. Crowley leans against Aziraphale’s arm and rests his head on his shoulder. His angel turns to press a soft kiss to his hair.

This is also kind of a miracle, Crowley thinks. The touches and casual displays of affection. How easily those come to them, after millennia of dancing around each other. How quickly they fell into them.

Aziraphale takes a deep breath. His mouth trembles as he opens it to speak.

“After the world didn’t end, I kept myself from sketching you as often. We were spending more time together, I—I didn’t want to risk you finding out. I was just coming to terms with the depth of my feelings for you, and I… I didn’t know if you felt the same, or if you would think I was silly, or if you would decide not to talk to me again. But I still couldn’t stop altogether.”

Crowley takes one of Aziraphale’s hands between his and touches the pad of each finger, pressing his thumb to the center of the soft palm. He can almost feel Aziraphale’s heartbeat through the skin, knows that’s impossible but doesn’t care much—their corporations have always done what they wanted them to. Crowley might not be good with words, but this, he’s gotten good at.

Next to him, Aziraphale shudders.

“Even in… Even in Heaven,” he says, his voice quivering, his eyes squeezed shut, and Crowley wants nothing but to pull him close and kiss his temple and tell him it’s okay, it’s all right, they’re here now, Crowley’s forgiven him, there’s no need for more pain, more heartbreak, they’re okay, they made it.

Aziraphale carefully grabs one of the sketches from the pile and shows it to Crowley.

The expression on his face is… it makes something break within Crowley, makes his essence wriggle and writhe in discomfort, makes his skin burn like a scar he can’t touch without slicing it open anew. The devastation in his damp, golden eyes and the defeat in the tight, flat line of his parted lips would be enough to bring him to his knees if he weren’t already sitting.

He doesn’t want to recognize this moment. He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to be back there, having poured his heart out, hoping he won’t lose Aziraphale forever, afraid that he will, anyway.

(He did. He did, and he’s dwelled on it enough, and he won’t anymore. It’s not worth any more tears.)

It’s not the only sketch of that day. Crowley counts at least seven more pages with similar images of him (heartbroken, abandoned, alone), not to mention the ones he can’t see.

“Even while I was… Up There,” Aziraphale starts again, curling his fingers around Crowley’s. “I was unable to stop thinking about you. About your beautiful eyes, your wonderful mouth, that kiss… I…”

He trails off, his eyebrows pinched in what looks like pain. He bites his bottom lip so hard that Crowley swipes the pad of his thumb over it to pull it free. “Aziraphale.”

“Oh, my love,” the angel says, leaning their foreheads together. He pushes his nose against Crowley’s cheek, like he wants to make up for the distance that separated them for months, and all Crowley can do is hold his hand, cup his neck, kiss his eyelids. “My darling, I missed you so much.”

“Me too,” Crowley replies, the only thing he can say without falling apart. “I know, angel. Me too.”

He focuses on the fact that Aziraphale never forgot about him, just as he never forgot about Aziraphale, despite everything. It helps bring him back to the present, to the life they have now. The life they chose for themselves.

Aziraphale slightly shakes his head to himself. He smiles—a small, timid, almost self-conscious sort of thing—and hands Crowley a stack of papers.

“I don’t know about you,” Aziraphale tells him as Crowley takes the stack gingerly, as delicately as he did with a tartan thermos sixty years ago. “But I like these ones much better.”

And then—oh, and then.

The sketches in his hands amount to more than the rest of the drawings combined. The way his hair is styled and the clothes he’s wearing and the lack of sunglasses indicate that these are portraying moments from the last five years or so, once they were… once they were truly on their own side, finally on the same page: him sleeping, smiling, watching the telly, yelling at the plants, working in the garden, looking out the kitchen window, sharing a glass of wine with Aziraphale, and, most telling of all, looking ridiculously, stupidly, tit over arse in love.

When Crowley runs a finger through the pages, careful not to crinkle the paper, he can feel that love in them. The same love he sees in Aziraphale’s eyes every day, the same love that courses through him whenever Aziraphale holds his hand and entwines their fingers and noses his cheek and scratches his nape and sighs into his mouth.

It’s… it’s surreal, in a way, to see himself the way Aziraphale sees him. His body language is much more relaxed, the edges of his eyes softer, the lines on his forehead less pronounced. Even though the sketches are all black and white, these seem brighter somehow, as though the cloud covering the previous six thousand years of drawings had dissipated before Aziraphale sketched the more recent ones. Not that Crowley can blame him—their time in this cottage has been the happiest he’s been in… centuries. Millennia. Maybe his entire existence.

In these drawings, he looks it, and it would be embarrassing to be so fucking obvious about it if he didn’t know that’s how Aziraphale looks at any given moment as well.

Retirement suits them.

“Yeah,” Crowley agrees. “Yeah, I like ‘em better, too.”

He turns to catch Aziraphale’s gaze, and the radiating joy and calm in his eyes and the easy twitch of his mouth is too much of a temptation to resist. Leaning in to kiss him is the easiest thing in the world, and Aziraphale meets him in the middle.

When the angel holds Crowley’s chin between his fingers to pull him closer, to find the perfect angle so he can deepen the kiss, Crowley melts against him, sinking his hand in the curls on the back of Aziraphale’s head.

Thank you, he wants to say. For loving me all along.

He doesn’t. Instead, he kisses back harder, hoping Aziraphale will still understand what he means.

(He does. Of course he does.)

Later, sitting at the kitchen table, Crowley drinks his cup of coffee and listens to Aziraphale rave about how excited he is to go to the farmer’s market next week while he eats one of the sweets he bought at the bakery. Crowley reaches over the table to take Aziraphale’s hand, and he hides a smile on the rim of his cup when Aziraphale immediately interlaces their fingers, like it’s only natural that he would.

And if, later on, out of the corner of his eye, Crowley sees Aziraphale miracling a notepad and beginning to sketch him, well—he simply looks away and pretends he doesn’t notice. He hopes that’ll convince his angel to show him the finished result.

(Aziraphale shows him.)

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #go s2 spoilers #ineffable husbands #good omens fic #ineffable husbands fic #riku's fics

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quillyfied · 10 months

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Things I’m noticing on this rewatch, which I’m hoping to take slow and ponder on but we will see how it goes, PART SIX (obviously major Good Omens season 2 spoilers throughout, specifically for S2E6)

- thunder is happening outside where I am right now, so let’s buckle in!!

- Still such a good silhouette for Miranda Richardson.

- BATTERY OPERATED CANDLES

- “Will you answer a simple question?” “If I hear one, of course.” THIS EXCHANGE. SO GOOD.

- “It all looks so simple in Jane Austen.” Because other people’s love lives always seem more simple, angel. Especially fictional ones.

- JANE AUSTEN THE BANK ROBBER

- okay. Did Crowley just know that about Muriel? He doesn’t even know their name, how can he tell what rank Angel they are? More sensing and how Crowley is uncannily good at it??

- BEES. BEEEEES. REMEMBER THIS.

- “I had brothers” PREACH

- IM DONE WITH BEING SCARED

- SHES BRAVER THAN ANYONE I KNOW

- MAGGIE AND NINA ARE EVERYTHING

- MAGGIE NO TOO MUCH BRAVERY

- I fully missed the implications of that the first time around btw. Bc I’m dumb I suppose.

- Activating the portal and using it as a meat grinder for bottlenecked demons is such an elegantly simple solution.

- “You’ll be hurt” HA OMG

- The headstones in the opening credits don’t change inscriptions, btw. Though I still can’t make out Adam’s

- The guitar in the intro music does though!!

- I think it might be two completely different bridges meeting up after the first one parts? I can’t quite tell.

- This episode’s theater is just called Every Day, with a picture of Aziraphale’s halo on the screen.

- THEY LITERALLY PASS MICHAEL AND URIEL. BEES.

- “It’s a bit lonely. That’s why I was so pleased to go to Earth.” That feels awfully significant. File it away next to demons not especially wanting to fight angels.

- Crowley having…grills, I think? Like Sandalphon. Oof.

- Finally did a bit of digging on Neil Gaiman’s views of angel hierarchy. Still don’t know that I entirely buy Angel Crowley was an Archangel, but higher up? Deffo buy it.

- Bottom of the barrel. Deffo they’re that stupid.

- So. Still a nuclear exchange, eh, folks?

- Nah is the funniest possible response.

- So Aziraphale doesn’t know the details of Gabriel, the Supreme Archangel, not being above getting demoted…hang on. Bit early to be trying to put that piece together. Just going to stew nervously I’m not even Gabriel being safe in going against “God’s” plan

- Nina and Maggie standing up to demons using fire extinguishers and encyclopedias. I love them.

- Wondering if it was Aziraphale’s nerves that caused these measures to be taken, or…Yknow. The nerves of the person who ran into the burning bookshop himself.

- Crowley having holes in his memory is true but also it’s so much funnier that he just. Doesn’t have a good memory for people. Not funny but also yes funny.

- EMOTIONAL SUPPORT ANGEL. Yknow I can see why some people think it’s a bad thing that phrases like that were likely lifted from the fandom directly and tossed in, but I love it, shut up.

- Refused to exercise his celestial authority. Sometimes an angel just has to say “guys, enough.” HMM. HMMMMMMMM. HOW VERY INTERESTING.

- INSTITUTIONAL PROBLEM.

- The way Gabriel looks so BORED.

- The way Metatron looks furious. Disgusted, even.

- The fact that a memory wipe can be performed remotely: dangerous. Important.

- The fact that angels can be tracked entirely while in heaven: dangerous. Important.

- The fact that it seems to hurt Aziraphale to remove his halo: DANGEROUS. IMPORTANT.

- the way the bookshop rumbles and shakes when the halo lands tho

- ERIC NO

- Poor Eric.

- Shax being knocked out but not discorporated…interesting.

- Oh sure the mass transporter works just FINE for Heaven XD I love this train wreck of an awkward elevator ride.

- Interesting how Furfur is the one to come along with Dagon (who, I still can’t stress enough: FABULOUS this season)

- Electricity again not being used by an angel, but by a demon. All lightning is demonic this season. Hmm.

- Crowley maybe it isn’t wise to admit the two of you doing a miracle together is what caused the giant plume

- The moment I could NOT believe we were actually getting Ineffable Bureaucracy but was SO HAPPY ABOUT IT ACTUALLY

- Important too that Crowley shares pertinent details but not the actual scope of how he knows what he knows and what it all might mean before Metatron steps in. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

- Okay but was the entering of the eye necessary. Argh.

- I do like how they made the recasting a joke XD

- I’m sorry but the way the vibes of their meetings is so pitch-perfect for how the fandom was interpreting them for years makes me so proud of us all

- I just wish there was MORE

- You can’t always get what you live for. Every day it’s a getting closer

- Still wondering how in the heck that statue exists

- Gabriel being incapable of ordering drinks XD

- “You people. Amazing.” So important to Gabriel and Beelzebub’s love story that they explicitly fell in love with EACH OTHER, not earth, not humans, but also that even while on earth, Gabriel still has things he likes and appreciation for the atmosphere it can have. Earth is cool. Time they all admitted it.

- “No one’s ever given me anything before.” Anyone else suddenly emotional about the idea of Aziraphale introducing things like kindness and respect to Heaven? No? Just me? I know it’s not just me, “Aziraphale is a bee in the hive about to shake things up more than anticipated” truthers

- Aziraphale looking pretty terrified at Gabriel being back and Jim being gone. I know. Me too.

- But. But!! The way they’re openly affectionate now when it seems like they weren’t there yet in the past! The way Gabriel hugs himself when thanking them! AUGH!

- FOUND SOMETHING THAT MATTERED MORE TO ME THAN CHOOSING SIDES. THE SHOULDER TOUCH. I CRY.

- Michael. Michael they’ve been there the whole time. Calm down.

- I really do want to know if Crowley just casually brought Mr. Brown back from the dead, or just healed him from terrible maiming, or just wiped his memory bc he’s actually fine. THESE ARE IMPORTANT DETAILS DAMMIT.

- “Unless you’d like some help?” THEYRE SPEAKING. THEYRE COMMUNICATING. INSTEAD OF JUST ASSUMING WHAT THE OTHER NEEDS/WANTS.

- Aziraphale the angelic kindergarten teacher.

- “But we’d be the ones doing it.” They’re just saying all the quiet parts out loud, huh?

- Crowley offering Alphi Centauri ;A;

- The fact that THEY GET THE BANISHMENT OPTION when Crowley and Aziraphale DID NOT. Granted, they diverted six thousand plus years of planning, not just collaborating ambiguously to sappy unknown ends. Because AC LOVE EARTH. And GB DO NOT.

- The fact that they turn on the lights when they leave bc an angel and a demon doing miracles together is POWERFUL

- Aziraphale’s entire expression ;A; so tender. So loving.

- That was a weirdly erotic fist bump, Furfur and Shax

- “Do people ever ask for death? So predictable.” There’s that angelic arrogance, Metatron.

- And the Book of Life extreme sanctions again. Which makes me VERY nervous for s3, probably more nervous than anything else. That’s a very big Chekhov’s Gun to be laying on the table half-forgotten.

- Okay the fact that Saraquael picks it up before any of the others, too. As implied by her hands going folded and expression going nervous.

- “Have we done anything wrong?”

- “That remains to be seen.”

- HMM. OKAY.

- Take the coffee or take the death, Aziraphale. DAMN.

- The way Metatron neatly separates and snips Aziraphale and Crowley apart. The ominous organ music. The dressing-down of the Archangels but backhanded compliments to Muriel (the dim one I’LL KILL YOU). A master manipulator at work and he’s only just getting started.

- Crowley trying to get rid of Muriel feels weirdly protective, in hindsight.

- Crowley putting the bookshop back together ;A; the cello version of the theme waltz. <3333

- Aziraphale really should have been here for this conversation. I WEEP.

- Noooo not the soft romantic music again, it hurts. Also just realized that Nina and Maggie are still wearing their ball outfits.

- THIS CONVERSATION IS ALREADY A TRAIN WRECK. CROWLEY ASKING AZIRAPHALE IF CROWLEY CAN GO FIRST. AZIRAPHALE TALKING OVER CROWLEY.

- The thunder outside is getting massive as Metatron butters up Aziraphale. The ominous real world foreshadowing.

- The fact that keeping Crowley a demon isn’t even on the table. Going right for Aziraphale’s issues.

- THE CLOCK IS MAKING A FROWNY FACE

- Some other time I want to see Metatron’s assessment of Aziraphale next to Crowley’s assessment of Aziraphale bc I want to study the ways this hurts me.

- The EMOTIONS. DAVID AND MICHAEL PLS IM DYING.

- The manifold layers of mutual misinterpretation. I am BEGGING for a season 3 so I can see them untangle this.

- “I don’t think you understand what I’m offering you” just like you thought he was exaggerating the danger you were in just last episode, angel?

- No nightingales HOW DARE

- I fully believe Crowley is kissing Aziraphale goodbye here, tbh. Not showing him what he’s missing. Just saying bye. Maybe hoping on an off chance it will work but knowing it won’t. One spectacular kiss that I kind of love we don’t get every sloppy detail of. Makes it intimate even as it’s heartbreaking.

- The one thing he wanted to take with him won’t come. I CRY.

- Crowley is too smart for this but I’ve seen art of Crowley as the next grand Duke of hell and that would be a DELICIOUS setup, actually, and one I believe he could give into if he felt low enough. But. Crowley has always known better. He’s always wanted out, wanted better. If it was just him alone in the bookshop, maybe, but with Muriel there…idk. I feel like that’s not gonna happen, that Crowley is going to side with humanity. But I also didn’t think Aziraphale would ever go back to heaven so what do I know??

- The Second Coming. Phew. The event supposed to kick off after Armageddon, I think? Gonna be big.

- And here we have…the closing credits. The ones I was too overwhelmed to cry over the first time and maybe too entranced in my note taking to fully feel it here now but the sad piano and cello are certainly having an impact.

- Aziraphale not having all the details for what was happening to Gabriel makes me wonder how far he thinks he can push making a difference. Because the Supreme Archangel of Heaven was deposed for not doing what the rest of the archangels and the Metatron wanted. They can erase beings from existence. They can wipe memories remotely. They can track his every move. He’s walking into a trap.

- But. BUT.

- Crowley won’t let Aziraphale face this alone. Crowley and Aziraphale have swapped faces before. Crowley and Aziraphale have been on the wrong sides of the screen all season. Aziraphale’s determined face is very close to Crowley-As-Aziraphale. This season has been about lies and misdirection and sleight of hand. I like the theory that the kiss was another swap, that there was a time freeze where they came up with a plan, but. Also.

- I just. REALLY like the power of The Final Fifteen as-is, too. Because it’s been building all season, a head of steam that blows at a very critical moment in time. It’s the hard work of realizing their problems and issues and triggers haven’t been worked on at all, and if they’re ever going to be happy, they need to do the work. It’s not hand-waving their development off screen and actually putting us the audience in the front row of that development. Which is tasty as all heck too.

Okay. Second time didn’t hurt as much, knowing it was coming and pointing out all the clues that foreshadowed it. Next watch through I do without the buffer of constant pausing to record my thoughts and theories. I’m sure it’ll be fine.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #gos2spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #ALRIGHT. THATS TWO.#time to keep it going in the background #ooh fourth time I’ll go through all the special features bc I love those!!

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greatwise · 10 months

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Why Aziraphale chose Heaven over Crowley: An Essay

TLDR: Crowley broke Aziraphale’s heart before Aziraphale broke Crowley’s. He was so upset he got lost in the moment and made the wrong decision.

Aziraphale accepted the offer from Metatron because he knows that his ethics would be pure and that anything he would do to restore Heaven would be for the greater good - for every being in the universe. It was never as simple as choosing between Crowley or Heaven.

The archangels are corrupted with racism and classism - sure Aziraphale is too, but he is one of the only angels (now barr Gabriel) who has first hand experience with demons and what they can be, which is a far cry from the rest of them. That’s why he would be a perfect candidate for Supreme Archangel. He has seen heaven at its best, and at its worse, simply by knowing Crowley.

When Aziraphale is sat with Metatron, he suggests Michael as Supreme Archangel because he doesn’t see himself really as a part of Heaven’s politics anymore, as long as he is able to live the simple life that he has had since the they stopped Armageddon. And then Metatron suggests him. And he’s so taken aback because he never expected to be a backbencher in Heaven again, let alone third-in-command. So when he says he doesn’t want to go back to Heaven, it’s because he never expected to be invited. But he still holds the commandments of Heaven in high regard, and let’s be honest, we all have something that we do because an authority figure said so when you were a kid that you still hold onto. So he is still tied to Heaven, like a human priest.

All things considered, however, he could never have imagined to have been handed Supreme Archangel. By God’s second in command no less. He’s so unsure of the choice until Metatron mentions Crowley.

His Achilles Heel.

When Metatron suggests Aziraphale could have Crowley by his side - someone he KNOWS believes and trusts in him, someone that has been a comfort for the last 6000, and could be there to comfort him into unknown territory - everything makes sense. And the one person he loves the most could be as happy as he was before the beginning, a happiness that he possibly helped to end? How can he resist?

Aziraphale knows all he wants to do is restore tranquility in Heaven in the most peaceful way possible, no corruption, no funny business with Hell. He has just had the most incredible, tight-knit, romantic four years of his existence with the being who adores him most. What is there to loose?

Everything, actually.

When he faces Crowley and Crowley says “tell me you said no”, it isn’t a betrayal to Aziraphale. It’s the one person he though trusted, respected and supported him the most shattering his confidence in a heartbeat. He feels he lost Crowley.

Then the situation gets out of control and he struggles to pick up the pieces throughout their argument because he was prepared for it to go pear shaped. Their romantic confession and first kiss (?) with Crowley ended up being fuelled by pain and heartbreak when he had been imagining it for at least the last 80 years as something out of a Jane Austen novel.

When Metatron returns, we see Aziraphale try to make a last ditch effort to get out of the situation all together - saying he can’t leave the bookshop. But Metatron, whatever game he is playing, obviously has a plan. He tries to interrupt and stop himself but the pain that Crowley doesn’t believe in him stops him from being able to rationalise their arguement. And right in front of him is The Metatron, capital T, capital M, saying that he is worthy.

Alexa, play You’re Loosing Me by Taylor Swift.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow

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roswellsmokingwoman · 4 months

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(Aziraphale x Crowley) Headlights - Chapter 4

Read here

Good Omens Human AU with a divorced Crowley and Aziraphale finding love again and getting back together.

Soho, August 2021

It shouldn’t bother Crowley so much–it happens every Sunday. Aziraphale places his gold band on the ring holder, straightens his bow tie, and then leaves for two hours to attend service. When he comes home, he puts the ring back on his finger and their life resumes as usual. But for two hours every Sunday, Crowley feels like his husband is gone.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” Aziraphale tells him on his way out the door.

“Like what?” Crowley asks.

Like I’m leaving you to see someone else. But he lives a second life. This second life is not one that takes up much of his time. Apart from Sunday worship, he volunteers at a few events throughout the year. What it does take, is pieces of him away from Crowley. Far more than he’d like to admit. It began as a chip here or there, they’ve accumulated over the years. It had been barely noticeable, the way in which it wore them down. And it was never an issue until it became one.

“I’ll be back soon,” Aziraphale promises, and he’s gone again.

Time passes quickly, Aziraphale’s unfocused mind darting between the priest’s words and Crowley sitting alone at the bookshop, waiting. Always waiting, never speaking aloud his feelings. Had he been oblivious to them before, or had he always willfully ignored them? Aziraphale wonders if he’s in a place where sinners should reside, tucked in a pew, hands folded in his lap, apologizing to God instead of the person he’s hurting. The service draws to a close with a shuffle of bibles being tucked back into place.

We should find you a nice girl. Aziraphale hears as he stands to leave. His lips form a grimace that slides into a stiff smile as he turns to acknowledge two older women with admittedly good intentions. It’s hard to believe you’ve been unattached all this time. A lovely man like you. Good intentions don’t make the words sting less. He never entertains these comments, nodding a polite goodbye as he leaves.

His right-hand finds his left, searching for the wedding band but finding only the groove it left behind. The divot is deep, visible to only those who would care to look closely at his well-manicured fingers. He swallows sadly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. I’m not alone. I have a wonderful husband at home.

For two hours, for the sake of people whose opinions shouldn't affect him, he pretends that Crowley isn’t real. He murmurs a Hail Mary under his breath as he steps out of the church to repent for the pain he inflicts on his husband. Marriage means sacrifice, and Crowley’s is this but Aziraphale despises himself for putting Crowley in this position.

Crowley is patient and considerate. From the beginning, he waited for Aziraphale to move first. They did not have to begin a relationship and could have been friends. But it was too much for Aziraphale to sit next to him in the same room and just pretend that they were only friends. Crowley unearthed facets of himself he easily ignored for the first twenty-nine years of his life. He could have parted from Crowley, but losing him seemed worse, even in the early days. One meeting led to a lifetime of Aziraphale being torn between two sides. If it had only been him, alone in denial, he could have tolerated it.

It’s not only Sundays. Every day, he subjects Crowley to his incomplete love. Suddenly, it’s too much. It needs to change–somehow they have to make this better. Lately, when Aziraphale returns home on Sunday afternoons, Crowley’s eyes are clouded. And the air is heavy today as Crowley sits on the couch in a dimly lit living room.

Afraid, Aziraphale picks the simpler option to present as a solution.

“Come with me next week,” Aziraphale pleads. “Just to see it.” He doesn’t know what he hopes to accomplish–but he can’t stand the way they function now. A wedge is beginning to drive them apart. They have to do something.

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purplealmonds · 4 years

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They didn’t go to the Ritz every Sunday, after the Apocawasn’t. That was how Crowley referred to the world not ending. Personally, Aziraphale preferred Notmageddon, but he kept that preference to himself, because Crowley had begun taking more than a few bites of his food at each meal so he was inclined to be more indulgent than usual. He’d also begun to acquiesce more frequently when Aziraphale insisted on feeding him a taste of this or a morsel of that.

Aziraphale sometimes forgot about his own food, as hard as that would be to imagine. Instead, he kept finding himself entranced in the play of expressions across Crowley’s face as the demon analyzed each bite, rolling it around in his mouth to hit the different parts of his tongue. Whatever they called the great intervention really didn’t matter, not one bit—not when Crowley displayed this newfound enthusiasm for Aziraphale’s most favorite passion. Sometimes he let his human guise slip just the tiniest bit and Aziraphale would catch a glimpse of a fork in that tongue, as the demon lost himself in the flavors and textures of the various dishes Aziraphale placed before him. He’d always been indulgent where the demon was concerned, but now? Now he was finding that attempting to spoil Crowley was more fun than spoiling himself.

– Chapter 7 - Menu Surprise - All You Need is Love…and Food by TheWightKnight

Links to the fic and other related artwork are in the masterpost.

Artist commentary under the cut!

Finished this piece a little less than 5 hours before the chapter’s set to be published, phew! I did a couple of things to speed up the painting process:

Eliminated the background altogether in favor of focusing on props in the foreground.

Simplified the rendering technique to be more cel-shaded. Save for the subtle gradient in the background, I don’t think I used any soft brushes.

Stuck to a simple color palette, without falling to my knee-jerk instinct to do color adjustments all throughout. The colors looked a bit drab at first, but I trusted that it would come together in the end. And with the help of some color correction layers and textures, it did!

Because of these time-saving methods, I finished this in record time: two days to nail the layout, and a little more than half a day to color it in! Though I could do without the sleep deprivation, I learned how to further streamline my process this hectic weekend!

And now for a bit of miscellaneous trivia:

All the dishes here were referenced from the Ritz London’s afternoon tea spread, though at the actual restaurant they’d never clutter the table like that! But hey, artistic license!

Speaking of artistic license, I did tweak little statue at the base of the rose bowl. The angel tempting the serpent with an apple - symbolism and all that!

Funnily enough, the rose petals were added as an afterthought. There were spots in the table that were empty, so I needed something to fill in the space. It certainly added to the romantic atmosphere!

#good omens big bang 2019 #gobb 2019 #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #all you need is love...and food #purplealmonds #thewightknight #chapter 7 #fanfic #ritz #ritz london #afternoon tea #fan art #2020

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katsidhe · 3 years

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could you do 9.10 and 9.13 for episode reviews.

Love your takes btw.

9.10 Final Thoughts

well, well, well, if it isn’t my old friend season 9. God I love season 9. buckle in.

Plenty of what season 9 tries to do with angel drama falls flat, but plenty of it doesn’t. It’s at its strongest when interrogating the ways that the angels are looking for personal purpose, rather than folding themselves into various suit-clad factions. In this episode, we have Gadreel, Abner, and Thaddeus, all with very different takes.

Thaddeus is the most boring of the three—a straightforward narcissist and sadist. (Lucifer will follow in his rockstar-impersonating footsteps in s12. SPN clearly has a dim view of the music industry.) We don’t care when he dies, and we aren’t meant to.

Abner’s found a family, and he’s let go of revenge. He’s clearly found peace and happiness—but it’s stolen. I’m ambivalent about this. I guess I could take his word that his vessel was abusive and therefore deserves to have been permanently body-snatched, and I guess I could believe him when he says his new family loves him, even though they clearly don’t know what he is or what he’s done. His regard for humanity as something other than a project is… uncertain. Even if everything is as sunny as he explains to Gadreel, there is fundamental selfishness and short-sightedness here. Get what you want, Abner says, and never let go.

Gadreel asks Abner if his vessel is happy. This reveals both Abner’s scorn for his vessel, and Gadreel’s uncomfortable awareness of and respect for Sam (and his bartender vessel, who Gadreel stares at, and who accepts Gadreel back easily).

Gadreel! OF COURSE Gadreel’s gotta be the scapegoat for Lucifer’s release, HAHAHAH. I love him to pieces, oml. Seriously, the Sam parallels could not BE more blatant. I’ve talked about this before, that it makes the earned antipathy between them all the more alarming, all the more visceral. The big sticking point is that Gadreel’s years of pointless torture came prior to his “redemption” arc, rather than as a consequence of it. Gadreel has all of s5 Sam’s despair and helpless anger and self-loathing, all of his drive to set things right at any price, and all of it is amplified by his trauma.

Sam and Gadreel’s relationship is defined by its liminal spaces. Gadreel threatens to tear Sam apart, but he does not, even when he is tortured. He locks Sam away in a dream rather than force him to watch him kill, or to suffer. But when Sam forces Gadreel out, Gadreel leaps instantly on telling Sam he is weak, reciting back Sam’s fears and Gadreel’s own. This reads like Gadreel is aiming quite a lot of his own self-pity and self-hatred at Sam.

Cas’s murderous rage at Gadreel when his identity is revealed is fun. It shows that Heaven’s PR team did a good job, for one thing. But Cas is furious because it’s specifically Lucifer. And the Apocalypse, and all the attendant suffering, his and Dean’s and Sam’s. It’s a personal wrath.

“Stupid for the right reasons…” oh, Cas, your scarcity of positive human role models is showing. Also, Cas’s particular brand of reassurance here isn’t actually something Dean has a problem with. He expresses regret over having been tricked—he says he’s stupid, he says he got played—but he’s never in doubt that his intentions were good. He’s never in doubt that he did the righteous thing. He’s never in doubt that he’d do it again.

Dean apologizes to Cas for barring him from the bunker. (Sam will not receive an apology.) Cas compares what Dean did to Sam to what Cas did by trusting Naomi. There’s a key difference here. Cas’s moral compass is not the problem; it’s his critical thinking skills.

Crowley, Cas, and Dean are a hilarious trio. (Also, I really hope that Cas’s pimpmobile got to Heaven too, like the Impala.)

Crowley being genuinely sorry that Kevin’s gone and his willingness to risk his life to help Sam are the best two moments of the generally weak Crowley-has-human-blood plot line. They feel earned. [also Crowley’s ‘I told Kevin he should’ve run!’ is both accurate, funny, and sad.]

Let’s talk 4.21 parallels! I mean, first, the glaringly obvious: Sam locked down to be purged of something supernatural; Sam suffering; Dean unable to bear Sam’s tortured screams; a very atmospheric fan. Dean walking away.

and then, of course, there’s “at least he dies human.” Right off the bat, Dean tells Cas he’s going to kill Gadreel. Cas, concerned, says that this will kill Sam too; Dean, sounding tortured, says he knows. Now, obviously, Dean doesn’t kill Sam. He doesn’t even get particularly close. But it’s really interesting that this is the first thing Dean brings up! He declares unprompted that he’s ready to kill Sam rather than leave him possessed. Which is both a recapitulation of the save-him-or-kill-him mantra, and an ironic twist on the decision Dean made in 9.01. Then, Dean knew Sam would rather die than be possessed, but had him possessed anyway. Now, Dean has decided instead that Sam must die because he is possessed. Obviously Dean’s opinion on the possessing entity has changed in the meantime: Sam’s hasn’t, but Sam’s isn’t what matters.

Dean reaches new levels of PEAK IRONY when he declares that Cas should possess Sam too. Cas has to actually point out that Dean can’t, in fact, volunteer Sam’s permission. Because apparently Dean had forgotten, lmaooo. Crowley, on the other hand, is happy to oblige. Dean directs Cas to burn Sam’s tattoo off.

The language of this entire scene is so sexual. I mean, it’s Crowley, of course it is, double entendre is his first language. But this theme recurs again and again. Here it is just more pointed than usual. It is queasy.

Gadreel has Sam trapped in a Dean-type happy place—a hunt with ghouls and cheerleaders, no organic produce to be found. And I don’t think it’s because Gadreel doesn’t understand what Sam likes. I think it’s because Gadreel’s aim was for Sam to feel comfortable, not blissful. It smacks of Hallucifer, just a bit—using the verisimilitude of Dean’s louder moods rather than trying to appeal directly to Sam’s contentment, because of his always questionable, always a question, sense of reality. If things were too smooth, too cheerful, Sam might just be suspicious. Sam is easier to trick by proxy.

The HORROR of this episode for Sam: Gadreel washing someone’s blood off of Sam’s hands. Crowley pushing needles into his brain. Sam’s body and life as a bargaining chip as Gadreel threatens to kill him, and then as Dean threatens to kill him right back. The quiet heartbreak as Sam remembers Kevin’s death, as he realizes the magnitude of Dean’s betrayal. But the worst part of it, I think, is somehow still Sam’s face when Crowley comes to get him in the dream where Gadreel stashed him. How his expression just crumples as Crowley tells him he is trapped in a lie, that his mindscape is once again a prison, that he truly cannot trust his reality. The sheer devastation of this on top of Sam’s history, plus the knowledge that Dean did this—and he pulls himself together and puts his foot on Gadreel’s neck and casts him OUT anyway. Sam Fucking Winchester.

and then the Bridge Scene. The lighting, the staging… it’s fucking gorgeous. It’s one of those scenes where I knew as I was watching it for the first time, seven years ago, that it was going to be something. I held my breath and still hold my breath. I can’t take my eyes off the way that Sam is shaking slightly, the entire time. The way he can barely meet Dean’s eyes but he does it anyway. He SAYS HIS PIECE, says it clearly, says it with an even tone despite what he’s gone through, despite the holes in his head that were healed seconds ago.

I love the gentleness between Sam and Cas here. I love knowing that 9.11 follows this. I love that there is no question that Cas will leave with Dean—he is staying with Sam, to heal and support him, even after he spent this episode mostly reassuring Dean.

Dean does not start this conversation to apologize. He starts out with the intent to DELIBERATELY egg Sam on: “come on, let’s hear it.” It’s an incitement, because Dean wants Sam to act angry, so that Dean can feel more justified in leaving. Sam does not rise to the bait.

Dean has an excuse for every point Sam has: I had no choice, you were dying, it’s not in me, he saved your life. He says, “I did a bad thing with bad consequences and I would 100% do it again, anyway, bye.”

And then the most infuriating thing: Dean is in the wrong, so he tells the person he’s wronged, ugh, I’m just such an awful poisonous person, I’m going to burn for this. It’s so clearly wrong-headed. Intentional or not, it’s such an obvious invitation for Sam to comfort him that it might well have been embossed. If this were in e.g. season 15, or if the crime he’d committed had been less awful, I can easily hear Sam’s reassurance: no, Dean, I promise you’re a good person, we all make mistakes. It is the most toxic way possible to frame a potential apology.

The textual theme of Dean-as-poison (and, for that matter, the consequence of Kevin’s death vs. the initial crime of the possession) is an intentional muddying of the waters: Crowley, Cas, and Dean himself all bring it up in some fashion, linking some fundamental aspect of Dean himself rather than Dean’s choices to Kevin’s death. Crowley is trying to be cutting; Cas is trying to be supportive; Dean is both excusing himself and camouflaging that fact in his exhausting self-loathing. There is a complicated interplay of what the text says about Dean’s guilt and what it condemns; this pattern continues throughout s9, and reaches its apex in the next several episodes. Dean’s love as a condemning feature rather than a redeeming one is one of my favorite things about SPN, and s9 has it in HIGH gear.

But, here, at least, Sam doesn’t rise to this bait either. “Don’t go thinking that’s the problem, ‘cause it’s not.” The problem is obviously, achingly, exhaustingly clear. Sam’s spelled it out in this very conversation: you tricked me. You lied to me. You got me possessed when I was willing to die. But Dean, and a fair portion of the audience, can’t hear it. So he doesn’t. And they don’t, and they pretend that this line is some sort of puzzle! a cliffhanger on a conversation unfinished! when it was the conclusion, not the beginning.

image that is now inextricable from 9.10

#9.10 #final thoughts #I have even more to say tbh #sam and cas #sam and dean #dean and cas #sam and gadreel #sam and crowley #sam and possession #sam and abuse #dean and self-hatred #sam and forgiveness #sam and mindscapes #sam and trauma #blahdose

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twsted-simp-writer · 4 years

Text

demon

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Songfic

The song I used is a Filipino song called Demonyo by Juan Karlos Labajo. I used the English translation in this one.

Did you know I wouldn't have liked you

If you had an ugly personality?

Days had passed since they left this world. Life continued on normally in Night Raven College. The students did their own things, attending classes, doing their work in their respective dorms.

It was as if he had gone back to those days. Shut inside his room playing games all day, rarely gaining contact towards other people except his little brother, Ortho. Isolated to the world, hiding from the reality present before him.

So dear, you don't have to wonder

Why I felt inlove with you

Standing beside the Headmaster who was carrying a cat, tied up with his so-called whip of love. He wasn't able to see you since his gadget is on his place, where his voice is live playing. By the time the Mirror of Darkness began to assess, it frowned. Their soul had no shape. Therefore, they do not belong to any dorms.

A human who can't use magic taken by the black carriage itself, to this academy. That was a first. He can understand the Headmaster's disbelief. The cat made a huge ruckus, almost setting the Mirror Hall on fire. Thankfully, Azul volunteered along with Riddle to catch the monster.

With the end of the entrance ceremony, he had guided the new freshmen to the Ignihyde Dorm for he was the Dorm Leader.

You are an angel who landed in hell

I'm the demon who will guide you

Back to heaven

In Idia's perspective, their first encounter was weirdly funny and awkward. He ran out of snack that night and decided to buy some wearing his lab coat.

Grim who lost in the rock, paper, scissors game had to buy drinks for the group. Being the worrywart you were, you soon went to help the monster in carrying the drinks. As the said monster walked down the dark hallway, he heard incoherent mumbling the end.

Idia who saw the monster wanted to touch him. He had no bad intentions bit seeing the intense look on his face Grim shrieked. The monster fell on the floor, unconscious. He fainted due to fright thinking he was the mad scientist whom Ace told from a horror story.

You heard Grim's frightened shriek and ran. Along the way, you bumped into him. Idia managed to catch you before you could fell on our butt. Deep inside, he was panicking. He didn't know what to do. His gaze landed on yours. His heart felt a thump as if he was hit by Eros' arrow at that moment.

Those eyes filled with curiosity as they take in his features. You gave their thanks before picking up the drinks and the unconscious monster. He watched your retreating figure while he held his chest. What was that he felt just now?

He met them once again at night where they first encountered. It was awkward at first and you are ended up separating ways without exchanging words. Idia wanted to slap himself. That was his chance yet he was too afraid he may scare them off.

While we're climbing

I fell inlove

With you

A certain robot noticed his brother's odd behavior, he was pacing back and forth talking to himself. He would occasionally shake his head before jumping to his bed and starts smiling like an idiot.

Ortho began to scan Idia and ran an analysis. So far from the results, it seems his brother is showing signs of being in love. Just the thought of that made this precious cinnamon almost want to leap in joy.

"Brother, are you perhaps in love?" His little brother's assumption made him froze and his smile fell. In love? With who? He suddenly thought of your smiling face.

Idia rolled his eyes. That can't be, Ortho must be overthinking things. He better check his system later.

"I'm not, Ortho. I might only be anxious because of something." And that something was you. He was still on denial. Every minute you would enter his mind out of nowhere.

"According to what I researched, when you're in love, you feel like it's not enough, you always think of them, you've been stressed lately" Ortho stated as he read the analysis displayed before him.

"Currently you're in the first stage of liking someone which is denial." Ortho happily announced as he clapped his hands. "I'm glad my brother is slowly opening up!"

Idia merely buried his face on his pillow. "Hmp noszh umn roub..."

The cute robot merely shook his head. His brother would realize it sooner or later.

What if you will suddenly be gone with me

When you give colors to my heart and feelings

He was intoxicated with everything about you. The way their eyes gleam in joy that was staring at his own, twiddling a part of their hair whenever they are nervous, shy or excited.

It seems Ortho may have been right, ever since he laid his eyes on you, he had his heart got stolen. He had gathered all of his courage to speak to you. After many days, you became close.

In his eyes, you were too perfect. Too perfect for him. They deserved someone better than him yet you were stuck with him. A shut-in who play games all day, not that popular, hates going out, not as handsome as the other students in this academy. Just what did you see in him?

Negative thoughts began to accumulate in his mind. Ortho seeing this became nervous. He may accumulate blot at this point. Yet you didn't care and fell in love with him. He felt like it was a dream when you two started dating.

Ortho was very happy by the news and called you sister-in-law which made Idia choke on his own spit.

It started slow but surely. Occasionally holding hands when you both find opportunity. At the end of their dates (mostly indoors), the two lovers would end up with red faces yet felt accomplished.

You are the princess that landed far away

I am the slave that will guide you

Back to the palace

That was the day he felt his whole world somehow stopped. The Headmaster had found a way for his lover to return back to their world. Of course, you would have to go back to your own world one day. He felt like someone took out his heart and shredded it into pieces.

On the day you would leave this world, you bid farewell to your fellow first year friends and acquaintances from the other dorms. Each dorm leaders gave you souvenirs as to remembrance and gave them thanks. With the exception of Leona who said he will not miss them but he gave you one. Even Malleus Draconia was also there to bid you farewell.

You were glancing at the doors of the hall, waiting for him. He was the last one who still hadn't talked to you. Meanwhile in Idia's thoughts as he hide behind the door, you were going to leave and the possibility of you returning in this world would be low.

Crowley tapped their shoulder and reminded them it was time to go. Casting a longing glance at the door, they manage to see him peeking behind the door along with Ortho who reveal himself and began pulling his brother.

You asked the Headmaster to just give them a moment. Without giving him a chance to respond, you ran to the door. Idia froze seeing this. Ortho who was waiting for the right moment, he pushed him. At the exact moment, you hugged him tightly. Idia slowly wrapped his arms around them.

Crowley watched this interaction with a doting smile. He began to mumble about how gracious he was, giving the two lovers their moment.

He held your hand staring at your eyes, desperate. Deep inside, they wanted to stay in this world permanently but they still have their family waiting for them back home.

You said something which Idia didn't manage to hear. He was too absorbed in his thoughts despite staring at them.

They glanced back to the waiting Headmaster who nodded. They shared a brief and chaste kiss before you slowly pulled away from him. He let your hands slipped away from his grasp as you ran back inside the hall.

He watched as you gave him a last glance before smiling, tears welling up in you eyes. Just seeing those eyes made his chest tighten. They went through the mirror swiftly. Idia silently prayed to the gods you would arrive to your world safely. Even though he is not that lucky, he hoped atleast they heard them.

While we're on our way

I felt inlove

Na-na-na, with you

With you

Oh!

"Brother! I have news!!!" Ortho crashed inside the room. He began waving his arms in the air as to catch his brother's attention from the screen. Idia just blankly stared at the screen as he played.

He pouted seeing his brother was too preoccupied in the game.

"I guess you don't want to see (Y/N) again, brother?"

His hands that were holding the controller paused. The character he was playing, died and huge words GAME OVER flashed at the screen.

Idia bit his lower lip as he hugged his knees close to his chest. Just the thought of you made his heart ache and stomach churn.

"They're not here, Ortho. They went back to their world." Idia bitterly said as he tried to hold in the tears. Barely a week just passed since you returned, he felt so lost and heartbroken.

Ortho was silent for a moment before he smiled. He let the person waiting outside the door to silently enter.

"Idia..." A familiar voice spoke up behind him. Fear and Hope surged throughout his body. Was that what he think it was? Did the Fates love to torture him?

Turning around, his eyes slowly widened and glistened. Standing there at the door frame was you, in a casual outfit. His heart stopped the moment his eyes met yours. His throat became dry, his legs were shaking

You are an angel who landed in hell

I'm the demon who will guide you

Back to heaven

Without a care, tears that well up began to flow down to his cheeks. He ran and wrapped his arms around them, wondering if this was a dream. If it was, he would never want to wake up from this.

You gently smiled seeing the tears, wiping them with their thumbs. You held his face, caressing his cheeks. Idia nuzzle his head close to their warmth.

"I missed you so much..." He broke down as he clutched your hand whimpering, as if they will disappear any moment. He felt like he would go crazy.

"Is this real? Am I hallucinating?" They chuckled seeing his cute antics, mumbling incoherent words. Wrapping their arms around his neck and leaning close, their lips met. They shared a long, gentle but full kiss

Ortho discreetly left the room with a huge grin in his face and quietly close the door. He knew both of them need privacy and make up the lost time.

"H-How?" Idia dumbfoundedly asked as he slowly calm down. His lover giggled before pouting.

"You weren't able to hear what I said back then, didn't you?" They said, poking Idia's cheeks. He began to reminisced that day.

"I promised I'll come back." Idia heard it back then but he was too caught up in his thoughts. They knew he was distracted that day. He didn't answer except he brought them close to his chest.

While we're climbing

I felt inlove

With you

Laying on his own bed, you stare at him with an apologetic expression on their face. "I'm sorry if it took too long..."

Idia held their cheeks as he absorbed their whole features. They had indeed matured a few years which made him think you had grown more beautiful/handsome in his eyes.

"I'll forgive you after you cuddle with me. Also, weeks had just passed..." He turned his head hiding his flustered face. Luckily, you were surprised at the difference on how time runs here and on your world.

"I guess the time flow is here is different from my world."

Idia brought their frame close to his chest. They were stunned but soon burst into fit of giggles. Staring at his eyes, filled with pure love, they pecked his lips and hugged him.

Idia lay his chin above their head in content. A soft smile crawl upon his dark lips. The Fates was somewhat merciful to him this time.

Mmm

With you

#tabby's fics☕#twst idia shroud x reader #idia shroud songfic #twst x reader songfic

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whatareyousearchingfordean · 4 years

Text

Supernatural Series Finale

It took me a couple days to collect my thoughts on one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to watch in my life. Like I said a few days ago, I cried even harder watching it the second time around. But now that I’ve had a chance to process and also see what other people were saying, I think I can finally put into words my impression of the finale.

Buckle up, this is a long one....

Let me preface this first off by saying that as an adamant Dean girl that has said numerous times over the years that all I’ve ever wanted was to wrap Dean in a blanket and give him some forehead kisses and tell him everything is going to be fine, this episode gutted me. I fully believe that my boy did not deserve to fight so hard for so long to just die as soon as he was free. He deserved a lifetime of truly enjoying time with his baby brother, the person he loved most in the whole world.

Now with that being said, having watched this series so many numerous times, I truly don’t believe that the show could have ended any other way. It’s something that has been pointed out by the creator, the writers, the actors, and even the characters themselves in the show. Dean never saw anything else for himself than dying doing the one thing he knows best, hunting. I saw a post that discussed how this would have happened numerous times already had Chuck not been interfering in their lives, and I wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment.

And Dean had been raised to never think anything of that. It goes back to Cas’ declaration that he is “the most loving human he has ever met”. Dean is and always has been a man of duty. He would gladly die at the end of a blade if it meant he saved someone from the fate his family was ‘destined’ to live. He has always cared more about other people than he ever has himself. It part of the reason that his freak out in 15.17 didn’t throw me because for fuck’s sake wasn’t it his turn to be a little bit selfish for once?

Anyway, I digress. Dean has been fighting for others his whole life. And as stated in 15.19, him and Sam were free to finally write their own story. Is it not 100% on character that Dean would die a hunter’s death? As we see in the beginning of the episode, the Winchesters could have chosen to walk away from the life then. They could have chose the apple pie life, a wife and 2.5 kids. But they didn’t, they chose to continue saving people, hunting things. They were writing their own story, even if it ended tragically. But that’s life, it’s messy and depressing, but it’s also beautiful and even if Dean only got a small taste of that, I can be happy.

I know a lot of people feel like that negates their character growth throughout the seasons, but I disagree. I think that the way this ended shows just how much both of them had grown. Sam very well could have went to Jack and begged him to bring Dean back and Dean could have asked him to. But neither felt that it was necessary any longer. Without Chuck pulling the strings, that scary, neurotic, codependence they used to hold was gone. Dean was okay with dying and Sam let him go. Dean told him how much he loved him and how scared he had been to go get him at school. Dean opened up, something that season 1 Dean never would have done. Just look back at “Faith”, the episode where Dean makes every joke in the book about dying instead of facing the truth that his time was up and Sam refuses to accept it so much that his one source to save him (unwittingly) is black magic. The men I saw in 15.20 were far from the men we met in season one.

Coming back to finally being free, I have to talk about the dammed paperwork in Dean’s room. I’ve seen the speculation about that. But that’s all it is, speculation. We have no idea what that was supposed to be about. If they had meant for us to see it, they would have shown it to use like they showed us the “Dean’s other other phone” sticker. But they didn’t. So it’s perfectly fine to speculate about it, that all a part of art interpretation, but in my opinion, even if Dean was working on ‘something else’ I don’t think he ever could have fully walked away from hunting. This ending was for all intents and purposes, inevitable.

For all the rest, as a writer, I fully understand the way that they chose to do this episode. Sure covid played a role but the boys had said that the crux of what the episode was did not change. There is a certain nuance to storytelling, like I posted back on Thursday and something that is probably one of the most famous lines from this show. Endings are hard. Writing is hard. It’s impossible to please everyone and even harder to tie up all loose ends. At the end of the day, the writers had to be satisfied with the story that they put out, irregardless of what you or I think. As Jensen so beautifully puts it, Supernatural is a piece of art, one that has numerous hands in the pot. From writers to actors and directors. And art is always up for interpretation. But that’s the beauty in it.

I talked to a dear friend, @waywardbeanie after the episode and was like “I want to know x.y.and z” because a part of me wanted all the answers from them. I’ve always been a person so very deeply rooted in canon (I know as a fanfic author that sounds weird but stay with me). I trust the information given to me and take it as face value. I seen my stories as an extension to canon, not trying to rewrite it. So it took me a few days, and more conversations with other fans of the show, like @winchest09 , to understand that the facts left out of the final were most likely intentional.

This is a show that has such a passionate and loving (mostly) fandom. Together we have done so much good for the world, and that is something even if you hated the finale, you can’t take back. The writers left the ending open for us, to write our own stories, whether it’s just your thoughts or if you actually write a piece of fanfiction. There is so little about what happens after Sam leaves, presumably for Austin (don’t even get me started on the essence of that cause I might cry again), because it’s our job to decide. Did Sam quite hunting all together or was he a pseudo Bobby, manning the phones for other hunters? Did he finally go to law school or end up getting some other mundane job? Who was his wife or girlfriend or baby momma in the background? Was it Eileen? If not did she know about his life? One could drive themselves crazy answering these questions, and it’s your right to do so however it will make you happy. But at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter to the story.

At the end of the day, what mattered was the peace that the boys found together, in heaven. Sure Dean missed Sammy when he first got there, but he didn’t fuss, because as Bobby said “he would be along”. So Dean did what he’s always done, he took a drive in Baby, and Sam was there when he finally brought her to a stop. In the end their story ended just as it had started, our boys together.

And I know a lot of people are angry because one of the big themes this show touched on was that family doesn’t end in blood. And I agree wholeheartedly that I would have loved more familiar faces or even the mention of them (I screamed when Donna was mentioned), but at the end of the day, something Eric Kripke has been saying since season one, this show is and always has been about the brothers and their relationship. I in no way think that this negates the family they found along the way or how they could not have done a lot of it without them but, it’s not their story. I’m sorry but it’s true.

It’s not about Cas, Jack, Bobby, Crowley, Ellen, Jo, Mary, Eileen, etc. It’s about Sam and Dean and it sucks that people can’t let that go, but I get it. I can’t imagine putting so much time into something to let something like that ruin the whole experience for you. I hope that you can find peace eventually. I guess that’s my blessing, that I never really cared for anyone besides Dean. Which isn’t to say I didn’t like characters but what happened to them never mattered to me, as bitchy as that sounds.

I’m at peace with this ending, no matter how much it hurts me. And I think it’s just the finality of it that hurts. Jensen and Jared and Kripke are satisfied with their little show that could and that’s what matters most to me. Because those are the real people with real feelings that I care about.

So there you have it. I have zero tolerance for negativity, so please keep your comments off this posts. You are free to your opinion but I don’t want to see it and put any seed of doubt in my acceptance of this ending. I’ll be the first to admit I’m too easily swayed, ha!

But if you need to talk, my inbox is always open. I’m still coping with the loss of this show and everything that comes with it. I don’t do well with change or facing my own mortality, something that has rattle me these past few days. I feel a million years older and that scares me. So know your feelings are valid and I’m here.

#supernatural #spoilers #dont spoil the final hunt #spn finale #supernatural finale

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forfuckssakejim · 3 years

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I watched Good Omens for the first time in April and found these stories in March. I have rewatched the show four times and reread your stories several times. I just have been having trouble finding the right words for the reviews. When the questions came up I was glad that I was not the only one loving your Good Omens’ stories. I did questions 1 - 5 for One by One and 3-4, 11-12 for Holy Ground. Also I was the one who asked about inefficiency husbands and was pleasantly surprised it was about them.

A Review for both One by One and Holy Ground

One by One Review November 1st

I love this journey through time. As much as I enjoyed the walk from Petronius, which was so breathtaking, and was later impressed by finding out the research that went into that, I am glad this story takes place during different time periods each with its own unique feel. It reminds me of the first half of the third episode, my favorite part, where they show the development of the relationship except you do it through kisses. The narrative is beautiful throughout.

I love how you took thrown lines and turned them into story pieces. The “cannot kill kids” into the arc scene. That scene is so beautiful with the two of them hiding with saved kids. There is also an odd cozy feel to it. Also making the rain their thing connecting the wing umbrella to the flood. You also took the line about Crowley creativing stars into the Historical London scene, which is so peaceful and romantic. Also you reverse the “I knew what you smell like,” line Crowley said to Aziraphale having Aziraphale noticed Crowley’s perfume. I was so intrigued by the smells you picked out for it. I even appreciated it more when I found out how much work you put into it.

The slow buildup makes the ending so much sweeter. I just loved that their new freedom was expressed in the bookshop. An excellent job on this one.

Holy Ground Review November 4th

I was torn because I like the idea of them living in Soho, London near the bookshop but living in a cottage in Tadfield sounds peaceful for them. The first part with Crowley and Aziraphale in bed just awoke them so sweetly. I wish I could remember which episode had “crowd, every time” but it's been awhile since I watched. I loved the “crepes, every time,” here demonstrating Aziraphale's love of food, especially crepes. Also I loved this tease of Crowley showing Aziraphale’s more devious nature that he's been trying to deny for the longest time. I loved how descriptive of the unique ring. I do love the idea that Crowley wants to slither away out of fear. “A never ending storm in the ocean of his mind,” was my favorite phrase in the story. Them watching, listening and smelling the rain that is so meaningful to them creates a beautiful picture.

I don't know this is rather long so if you do not want to respond I’ll understand. I will give kudos accordingly to each story.

Adventuring out of Ducktales fandom and going right back,

Delightful

Ive re read this so many times, Delightful. I absolutely adore you and every comment you leave on my fics. They have truly made my day every time I get an email notification.

Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to write this. I’m glad you noticed all the little mentions to the show. And the “coward/crepes every time” is a bigger throw back to David’s days on doctor who 😆 some people catch it and it’s nice. I just. I loved the symbolism and the universe I got to create and explore in the fics. I was really torn honestly between writing them living in SoHo, in the complex above the bookshop. Or in Tadfield. Perhaps one of the doors is miracled to open to their room in the other place.

Just. Thank you so much for this. It truly made my week.

💖💖💖

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anathewierdo · 3 years

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I’m okay... and I’m surprised by how true that is

I remember being in my first year of high school and just binge watching Supernatural every chance I would get

And I went through the first three seasons going “ok this is awesome but I wish we’d see more of Jo, of Ellen, of Ash, of Bobby, like the brothers are great but I doubt it’s eleven seasons of this”

And then I got to season four and I met Cas and my brain just went “Hoooooly shit this guy! What even is the deal with this guy?! Friend or foe?! Oh he’s a reluctant friend, I like”, but I saw how Dean was with him, I saw The End, I saw that episode where they go after Raphael and I just went “ok so they’re either super duper best friends or they’re boyfriends I’m sure of it”

Then I saw seasons 6 and 7 and I went “did– did they just broke up? Did– wait they’re not best friends anymore NO”

Also, I will forever be grateful to Felícita Day and Robbie Thompson for Charlie Bradbury. She gave me strength and made me smile in some very dark days :).

AND THEN season 8 happened and I went feral. Like holy crap! Benny was amazing! We met Eileen! The whole purgatory plot line was awesome! The drama between the brothers and the problems between, well, EVERYBODY had me at the edge of my seat and then that flashback happened to where Cas let go of Dean’s hand and I just went “Oh my god they’re so together holy shit I bet they got together”

Season 8 was my favorite because of all the things. And that season finale will always remain my favorite because Sam, because Crowley, because Castiel, because Eileen, because Dean... I was just staring at my screen going “this is new levels of epic”. So many storylines were happening and I loved how it all came together for that season finale. It was heartbreaking. It made sense. It was a plot twist I never saw coming but made perfect sense to me in every episode and I loved every second of it.

And I was fine with Dean and Cas not being shown as together together because I kept going “they’re there but they’re not ready. There’s too much going on.” And as a baby queer who was always looking for older queer characters (because I love seeing older queer people, it reminds me that being queer was never a fashion thing like my parents say), the possibility of Dean, of Cas, of Sam being queer meant the world to me, because hell yes, it’s super valid to figure out who you are regardless of your age and who you have or haven’t slept with.

Season 9, 10 and 11 came and went and I just kept going “Cas is so fucking in love. Dean is so fucking in love. They love each other so fucking much” because of how much they would do for each other (don’t get me wrong the Cas being homeless storyline broke my ducking heart)

But like, Cas gave up an army for Dean. Dean refused to do anything that would risk Castiel when he was possessed by Lucifer to defeat Amara. Dean’s “attraction” to Amara was very obviously forced from Dean’s part, because it was some sort of spell.

And season eleven had its issues, but I liked it nonetheless.

Then Mexican Netflix took down Supernatural and my only way of watching the show was through YouTube clips and gifs here.

Then I met someone who sent me season 12 and I just kept going “HOLY SHIT HOW”

Because we got Mary, we got the Men of Letters, we got the whole Nephilim storyline and I was losing my shit because I didn’t– I didn’t know how to process it and I admit I hated Mary for the longest time but rewatching Supernatural two years ago gave me more of a chance to understand her and I actually like her now that I saw her grow in the show (I can’t say the same for John).

Then there was Dean and Cas and they were still fighting to keep each other alive (although they fought a lot from what I remember) and it always seemed like they were just on the brink of being together together but it never happened, and I both hated it and loved it because those two still had some growing to do.

Season 13 messed me up. In the best kind of ways.

Also! Throughout the seasons the family and the Supernatural world grew and grew and grew and I just loved seeing these characters. It fucking broke my heart when we’d see an old friend and they would just die by the end of the episode... but still, I loved those characters.

I loved how Supernatural went from a very white, very straight show, to a show with very good representation sprinkled here and there (sometimes).

Supernatural was problematic and sometimes even bad in a lot of ways, but it was that sprinkle of great representation that kept me there. Because family didn’t end in blood, and it didn’t start there either. And that... that was huge to me.

I cried when Eileen, when Charlie, when Kevin, when Missouri, when Bobby and when others died. How couldn’t I? I grew to love them and know them and it hit home when one of them fell.

Season 14 happened. And I was... I was blown away. For the first time ever I felt like Supernatural had truly reached their wall. Like they couldn’t go any further.

And then G.O.D. Himself was the final villain and I lost it.

The meta, the symbolism, the whole concept of free will.

I was in cloud nine with the possibilities of where this all could go.

And I enjoyed season 15. Ups and downs and everything. I really did. 15x18 was the best thing that could’ve happened because Cas went off script one last time and saved Dean simply by living his truth... to me, it was the silence in the last two episodes that hurt me, but not 15x18 itself.

It felt awesome to see Cas be himself without fear and go down with a smile on his face because he felt truly, genuinely happy. I cried like a baby because he was gone, but I felt so happy for him because he was happy. Because I felt seen.

Then the finale happened.

And I’m not gonna lie, it felt like a kick in the face.

Suddenly the family was gone. Suddenly the show was in 2005 again. Suddenly, it was only Sam and Dean and... I don’t know, it just felt so... empty, to me. After years of the guys not being completely on their own, to see them alone again felt, well, it felt wrong. But that’s just me.

I also feel like Chuck went down too easily but that is not important right now😂

I mean, we even had a full blown episode where we were told that an ending where a brother died and the other lived was not a good ending. We had this episode where we were told that Castiel was the living embodiment of Free Will because he was the piece that Chuck never counted on, never took in consideration for the story. Castiel, our Castiel, was the only one who went truly, genuinely off script. And by doing so, he was the one who messed with Chuck’s plans.

And obviously I’m not taking away credit from Sam and Dean and their family. God, I loved watching this story grow.

And this show... this complicated, problematic, somehow still heart filled show, ended with a Heaven ending.

I dunno, I was just hoping that having peace didn’t mean having to die to get it. I was hoping that they wouldn’t be alone in the finale because alone? Sam and Dean are great. But with their family? Sam and Dean are unstoppable.

And I get it, anyone can die at any time, but it still felt wrong. That final episode felt wrong.

I’m not saying I’m right. I’m just sharing my journey with Supernatural.

It took me a month and a half to gain the strength to even watch an episode of Supernatural again without shaking and breaking down crying. It took me a week to get back to some sense of normal without crying and feeling like I’d been slapped in the face.

I can’t even listen to Carry On My Wayward Son anymore 😂

And it’s not okay. It’s not. And I’m not looking for validation or anything. I’m just feeling. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

I still am hurt by what happened. But I’m not gonna go lash out at the actors, or even at the writers. I’m mad at the tv network itself.

And it’s totally, completely okay if you enjoyed the finale. It is! I’m happy for you! You saw something I couldn’t and that’s okay! I’m not here to tell you you’re right or wrong for enjoying it. 💖

What is wrong is hopping on other people’s blogs and sending them hate and slurs and invalidating their feelings (like some certain anons and even people that felt too cozy doing that to me)

I’m gonna keep on trying to move on whether I like it or not. I’m gonna find a way to truly enjoy Supernatural again. I’m gonna keep on shipping and making my tumblr experience good for me, because I’m my number one priority and there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m gonna keep making friends and I’m gonna do my best to keep my blog a positive space.

I am warning y’all though: there is a difference between hate and criticism. Me criticizing an actor’s actions is very different from hating them. And let’s be honest, I’m not taking my little opinions outside to the real world. I’m not gonna go knocking on someone’s door yelling “I don’t like you” to their face 😂 that would be pathetic. And most importantly: nothing’s gonna happen to them because little old me went “that was wrong of you to do”.

I’m not that important, y’all 😂 I don’t have that sort of impact on people’s lives.

I’m gonna enjoy the SPN family because that’s the fandom I want to stay in. I’m gonna post love towards all my favorite characters and reblog the fics and art that you talented and amazing people put out on the world because they are awesome.

I’m gonna stay right here. And I’ll have my family with me.

The show ended on a sour note for me, but I’m done letting that... that event, keep dragging me down.

Disasters so far aside, I’m looking forward to the rest of 2021. I’m okay. I’m gonna be okay.

I wish you all the best. And holy crap if you got this far, you are an absolute champ.

Here, have a DeanCas hug in compensation for the long post

Take care of yourself, take it one day at a time. I’m here if any of you want to talk. And I’m looking forward to posting more writing.

For now, I love you and I wish you a good night 💖💖💖💖💖💖

#personal #supernatural #supernatural family #love me some destiel #love me some supernatural #as a treat XD #wow this post was therapeutic #sorry for the long post

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theplatinthehat · 4 years

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2019 Good Omens Fic Post

I didn’t think I could let the end of the year go by without celebrating some of my favourite Good Omens fics and authors that I’ve read over the last few months. This fandom has really encouraged me, and loads of others, to write some really amazing and fun work. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has made my time in this fandom something to be treasured – it’s been an amazing experience!

Consider this a love letter to the fanfic writers of this fandom. I can’t include everyone in the list, but if you write fanfic – thank you so much for the time and energy you put into this fandom!

AUTHORS

Drawlight / @drawlight

Can you fall in love with a writing style? Because I honestly think I have. I, like many other, came across Draw’s amazing work after Michael Sheen tweeted about Salinity and now here we are! It’s been an absolute privilege to read the incredible fandom works by Draw, and we really have been blessed by his beautiful stories. I remember reading Salinity for the first time, and it totally took my breath away. Whenever I open it up to re-read I find myself taking a deep breath before diving in.

What I Love: My favourite thing about Draw’s writing is the way he weaves in references to music, poetry and other stories into his work (Hadestown makes a regular appearance). His writing often makes me very warm and very soft and are much like a literary hug after a long day.

Favourite Works: Salinity (And Other Measurements of Brackish Water); tell me who is victor; I Will Get Up Now And Go About the City

Atalan / @seaskystone

What. An. Author. Atalan has made me cry floods of tears and laugh until I’ve fallen out of bed! Their long-form stories are a particular favourite of mine, and whenever I get a notification that one of those has been updated I have to read it immediately (even if I’m in the middle of a lecture). Atalan is a superb writer in any style, and I cannot wait to read more of their work.

What I Love: I must confess, my favourites are definitely the comedies – their sense of humour is absolutely fantastic, and their witty writing style makes me grin like an idiot. I remember reading the opening chapter of ‘Instructions Not Included’ and messaging my sister to let her know that I had found the perfect fic.

Favourite Works: Pray for Us, Icarus (and check out this amazing video by @pinkpiggy93) and Instructions Not Included

JMA

My goodness where do I even start with this incredible author? JMA takes our favourite angel and demon and explores some intriguing and often dark concepts through them. JMA has a very erudite writing style, and I often find myself reading their work twice or even three times before I even begin to scratch the surface of what they’re saying. Absolutely beautiful prose – I can’t recommend enough.

What I Love: The fact that their work makes me stop and think. Each story is a rich tapestry, which you can admire as a whole, but each individual thread is beautiful in its own right. JMA also has excellent command of both plot and character, which I love.

Favourite Works: Rebuild you from clay (the full series is worth a read in my opinion). You might also like Suffer the Children, which was written in collaboration with Ineffable_Plans

weatheredlaw / @weatheredlaw

I think it’s safe to say that weatheredlaw is the champion of the AU. There’s not a world that they can’t turn their hand to, and not a setting that they can’t describe in vivid detail. Weatheredlaw is an absolute pro at making me feel all sorts of things, and honestly, it was their fic that made me go ‘Oh, I see why people ship the Bookshop and the Bentley’.

What I Love: What’s not to love in weatheredlaw’s work? If I had to pick a favourite thing, it would absolutely have to be their descriptions. This comes across particularly well in ‘with all your delights’ where the descriptions of the south were so eloquent that I thought I might be able to crawl through the screen and join Aziraphale and Crowley there.

Favourite Works: with all your delights; dream to me

racketghost / @racketghost

I only discovered racketghost’s work recently and I only have one question – how on earth did I manage without their writing in my life before? Oh my goodness, their stories are absolutely marvellous. The main body of their work imagines what Crowley and Aziraphale might have been getting up to during WWI – and let me assure you, they pull no punches.

What I Love: I absolutely adore their storytelling style – it’s fabulous. Their descriptions of war are unflinching, and feel so real. The relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley is explored so well, and their emotions are so well portrayed.

Favourite Works: Strange Moons

INDIVIDUAL WORKS

With Love, A Symphony – OneofWebs / @tantumuna

This is a beautiful tale of love and music. I remember when I first read this, I fell in love instantly. I have such a weakness for Crowley playing stringed instruments, and this gave me exactly what I needed. The exploration of Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship through the different periods of music was just incredible. If you have an appreciation for classical music and slow-burn romance, this is the fic for you.

Full Circle – Hekateras / @futureevilscientist

Gosh, where do I even start with this series? The first two sentences grabbed me by the lapels and did not let go. An absolutely fascinating exploration into what happens at the End of Days – and beyond… This fic played my heartstrings like a fiddle and I loved every second of it. There’s a lot of angst, but it’s well worth sticking through until the end. I thoroughly recommend if you, like me, wonder what might happen if the Apocalypse comes round again.

Slow Show – mia_ugly / @mia-ugly_ugly

Is there anyone in this fandom that hasn’t read this fic? Well, if there are, here’s a reminder for you to set aside a day and devote it to reading this amazing story. This is a beautiful AU that imagines our favourite angel and demon as human actors; Avery Fell and Anthony Crowley. The narrative, the characterisation and the world-building are all absolutely stupendous, and like me you’ll be absolutely desperate to see Warlock on the screen yourself! Gosh, I don’t want to spoil this too much – go and read Slow Show! Now!

And once you’ve read that, be sure to check out the some faith remix of the fic by attheborder and curtaincall

Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrated Approach – Nnm

Many of us have said that Crowley needs to go to therapy. But what would therapy with a demon actually look like? And what kind of a therapist would be able to unpack all that trauma? Meet Aubrey Thyme, professional psychotherapist. Nnm does a wonderful job with this story, and its equal parts humorous and heart-breaking. And the end… oh the end – I won’t spoil anything. You really must read this fic.

Acts of Service – seekwill / @jasmine-cottage-uk

Another stunning human AU. Aziraphale is a vicar, and Crowley is a mysterious bad boy that can’t seem to keep away, and Anathema is there being an absolute bad-ass, set in the heart of an inner-city community. What starts out simply turns out to be much more convoluted than I ever could have imagined, and there were points where I was literally at the edge of my seat! An intriguing story, with vibrant characters, told by an absolutely marvellous writer.

Made Flesh – rfsmiley / @redfacesmiley

What if two, were in fact three? This is the question that runs throughout this piece of work – where Crowley is shadowed by something that only Aziraphale can see. A thoroughly absorbing tale that explores the love shared by an angel and a demon, and how that love manifests itself. This story settles itself well within the 6,000 year canon, and is beautifully told. An absolute must-read.

The Demons Have the Phonebox – theplatinthehat

You didn’t think I could get through this list without a self-rec did you? I shan’t say much, but I will say that the overwhelming love and support I’ve had for this fic has meant more to me than you’ll ever know. Recommended reading for people who love Donna Noble, creative use of the English language and general hijinks.

#fic rec #fic rec post #my fic recs #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #good omens #crowley #aziraphale

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