#especially when taking good omens in mind

[mobius-m-mobius]

Hello there!

I have to ask cause it's everywhere and apparently my husband and I didn't see it!

Aziraphale & Crowley were obvious to us as a couple but we didn't see this with Loki & Mobius (please people don't be mad 🙃). I saw a great love and a bond that will last forever but not the way we witnessed in Good Omens. To me it was more of a family thing. Like Mobius has two sons. Could be the representation of Thor and Loki. I don't know. I was so surprised when I saw all this on Tumblr. I want to rewatch the show now to see if I really missed all the signs.

Hi there! 😊 Thank you for the ask and please don't worry for wondering, part of the joy in a watching experience is being able to see something in a completely new light. I hope you've come to the right place as Lokius and Aziraphale/Crowley are the only romantic pairings that have stood out to me in ages but now for fairly different reasons so I'll do my best to explain why in my own personal view Lokius is a slow burn for the ages above and beyond all other love stories to me and I'd absolutely recommend rewatching Loki, especially season 2, with the mindset that the tropes of every good romance are present in *every* interaction Loki and Mobius have.

(adding a read more here as I feel this is about to get almost horrifically long if you'd like to know even some of the signs lol)

Right from the start we see Mobius recounting being a fan of Loki's most mischievous acts on the timeline, pushing the question of just why he's focused on ruling and nothing else, really getting under his skin in a way no one ever has before?? And in that there's something even better and deeper than love at first sight; intrigue. Loki's furious at being held by the TVA but can't help being drawn back to what an enigma Mobius is to brush off his insults and offer salvation in the face of knowing every good or bad thing Loki's ever done and believing in him anyway.

Cue the tentative partnership and rapport they both get far too comfortable in which you see when Mobius indulges in letting Loki ruin the mission at the renaissance fair and later tries to backtrack in reassuring Ravonna he's got things under control, then again when Loki realizes Mobius has been reading him too well and defaults to leaning in to "fix" his perfectly tied tie, a callback to when Mobius pointed out Loki has a tendency to try and seduce people in more powerful positions who could help him. You actually see Mobius lean in for a moment before realizing himself and pulling back, but contrary to everyone else Loki's tried this with he doesn't give in or get angry, he laughs and once again points out what Loki's up to, trying to find a way to get to the Timekeepers.

That entire sequence is the tipping point for me when they officially enter romantic territory, as Loki's visibly thrown and surprised by the way Mobius reacts and scrambles after him, finally taking things seriously enough to do real work and is rewarded not only with trust he's never been given so freely before but a now mutual fascination you see during their conversation in the cafeteria (a highlight of the series for me ) when Loki can't help but try and learn more about the person who knows him so well already by asking genuinely about Mobius and his jet ski magazine. Blew me away because any previous version of Loki would've never taken the time or interest in something so ridiculous (in his eyes), but this Loki shyly takes in the way Mobius beams and opens up, because how could you not fall a little when such a simple pleasure makes someone happy?

Then when they research Roxxcart they flirt again, Mobius praising Loki and teasing he might take his job before what we refer to as the Roxxcart grocery store divorce and for good reason 😂 When Loki's captured back to the TVA, Mobius isn't just hurt, he's clearly jealous and *extremely* so because he thought *they* had been building something only to now think Loki played him all along and during Loki's next interrogation Mobius loses his temper in a way he never has before, making scathing comments about Loki stabbing him in the back and siding with his "girlfriend" which should kind of speak for itself there 😅 Then their mutual assurance of trust before Mobius is pruned and the hug in the void being initiated by Loki is huge as well when this is the first time he's shared EVER that with someone and you see the crushing despair when Mobius later no longer remembers.

Getting into s2, it's easier for me to sum up with the base of their s1 relationship laid out since there's no need to get into as much detail when the entire thing is pure romance start to finish.

Loki and Mobius frantically desperate to find each other when in reality they had been separated for maybe an hour? Mobius ignoring all other issues at hand and his superiors to gently hold Loki by the waist and pull him close, constantly grounding by touching his back, arms, anywhere to provide extra comfort and Loki giving him that control, Mobius spending the entire season actively trying to enjoy being on the field without limits for a change and organizing dates between the two of them all season when his focus used to primarily be on the work. He repeatedly asks Loki to go for a drink, suggests visiting the theatre, going on a hot air balloon ride, etc, while Loki stops to indulge in popcorn and pies just because small joys are important to Mobius. When Loki visits Mobius' original timeline self they spend the ENTIRE ep flirting with each other, and honestly Don having two kids is just as it seems since there were no official indications otherwise; he may share genes with Mobius but is a different person with a different life. Don can't stop bringing up how single he is, teases Loki about following him home, which Loki absolutely did but only after fixing his hair and coat to try and look as good as possible before seeing him (because again, he looks like Mobius) and getting so flustered stammering over his words he may as well have been in a 90s Hugh Grant rom com 😂😂

Don't even get me started on the finale, which has every character except Loki and Mobius basically living their ideal life while the two of them are clearly left unfulfilled and wanting, missing each other to the point Mobius leaves the TVA (which exists out of time) for a timeline that Loki can see as a tear rolls down Loki's face in the final scene because of it.

Do I think that had their characters been tied to anyone but the Disney/Marvel corporations they, like Aziraphale and Crowley, would've shared a kiss as well? Absolutely yes, but that isn't a necessity for me personally and in all honesty despite Aziraphale and Crowley having kissed I actually felt season 2 of Good Omens was a massive backtrack for their relationship compared to the quality of time they spent together in season 1 which I much preferred. Again, that's personal preference and everyone sees and interprets elements of romance differently which is completely fine and I hope this wild ramble at least gave some perspective on how I and many others view Lokius 😂💖 Happy watching, no matter how you end up viewing them, and thank you again for the ask!

#apologies for the delay in reply but it took me a good long while to kind of put into words how personal this ask was for me?? #especially when taking good omens in mind #everything about the understanding and challenge and love and growth and devotion i showed up for and wanted in aziraphale/crowley #all of it and more is what i found in lokius and they've been the most wonderfully unexpected surprise of my life tbh #(i'm sorry this answer became so long but also not because i could've easily gone on three times as long lol) #hope this helped a bit and that you have a wonderful week 💖 #ask #loki spoilers #only tagging because i've got pretty much the whole plot in there lmao

[ghoulie-67-baby]

Softly now - Good Omens

Summary: Your anxiety has been raging all day, one accident at home makes you snap.

Warnings: Anxiety, depression, panic attack, anxiety attack, angst, crying, blood/wound.

Pairing: Ineffable husbands x Human!reader.

Word count: 1,674.

To say today had been challenging was an understatement. Nothing particularly bad had happened. The mix of work and anxiety had me in a spiral, wanting to go home and curl up away from the world. After finishing my shift, I trudged home in the pouring rain, the sound of droplets on my hood keeping me grounded. I knew Crowley wouldn't have had any issue picking me up but it felt like a burden and my head was telling me he'd be annoyed if I asked. So I settled for the walk in the dingy weather.

Dodging puddles, I yanked my coat collar around my throat, shivering as raindrops trickled down my face, leaving tear-like streaks on my cheeks. Luckily the bag containing my laptop and books had been miracled by Aziraphale to stay waterproof and protected by any weather. Despite the calm look on my face, the bustle and noise of the streets had my eyes darting around. My heart thundered in my chest as the bookshop came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I sped up, gasping as people barged into me in their rush.

With clenched, freezing hands, I shoved open the heavy wooden door and huffed out a sigh, slamming it behind me and locking out the world. My forehead reacted against the hardwood as I flipped the sign to 'closed'. I knew nobody would be in the shop, especially if Aziraphale had anything to do with it.

After a few minutes of unmoving silence, I wandered to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. A good cup of tea made everything better. There was no sign of the angel or demon as I walked through our home so I settled for one cup. Moving around the familiar space, my mind zoned out and I was set on autopilot.

I jumped out of my head as the sound of shattering filled the room. Shards of delicate, precious china scattered over the floor the beautiful flower pattern ruined. Anger and irritation flooded through me as I glared at the mess. Tears gathered in my eyes as I rushed to clean it, guilt crawling up my spine.

With trembling hands, I gathered some of the shards together to throw them away whilst trying to ignore the feeling rising man my throat.

"Love, let me take that from you." I froze as the Angel's voice floated through the silence. I hadn't even noticed him arrive home. With a quick shake of my head, I walked to the bin to throw them away but flinched as a large shard sliced my palm.

"Oh Y/N, you've cut your hand now." He tutted, reprimanding my stubbornness but I couldn't look at him. Instead, I trudged to the sink, rinsing the gash with a hiss and wrapping it in a towel. A warm hand rested against my icy shoulder as I watched the blood run down the drain.

"Darling, you need to let us help you." Crowley followed not far behind the angel with a disapproving look on his slender face. I watched silently as he unwrapped the bloody towel and grabbed the first aid kit to clean it properly. By this point, Aziraphale had cleaned up the remainder of the cup and droplets of blood from the tiles.

"You should really be more careful Love," The angel stood making hot chocolate, concern painting his face. I nodded silently, biting back a sob as tears filled my eyes. My chest began to heave as the demon bandaged my palm.

Only when a tear splashed on his hand did he realise the streaks on my face and the heads of my breaths as my good hand clutched the countertop, knuckles turning white. I stared straight ahead at his jacket, frustrated with myself. I squeezed my eyes shut, begging the tears to stop but it only worsened as waves of anxiety and guilt crashed over me.

Crowley caught me by my elbows to steady me as the first sobs escaped, swaying as my senses erupted with overstimulation. With ringing ears, I tried to listen as he spoke but words seemed to bleed into each other.

The only clear sound was my wails and whimpers as I tried to breathe, the room closing on me. Embarrassment filled me as I clawed at Crowley's chest, pulling him as close as physically possible so I didn't feel like I was sinking. Slender fingers passed me to chubbier ones as the blur of beige of Aziraphale's jacket came into view.

"Softly now, Love," he whispered into my ear. My breath caught in my throat as I cried into his chest which I had all but fallen into. The hum of his voice vibrated through my body as his fingers traced patterns on my back, the other hand smoothing down my hair. I couldn't help but feel bad for cuddling him when he was warm and soft and I was cold and soaked but he didn't seem to mind.

Warmth flowed over me and I looked down to find myself in Crowley's black sweater and Aziraphale tartan pyjama pants. I hummed thanks to the angel as my sobs died down into silent tears and hiccups. I clenched my fingers into his waistcoat, knees trembling and head pounding with such ferocity that I felt nauseous.

"Now, Love, whatever managed to get you in this state?" His voice was gentle, ringing softly in my ear, the definition of angelic.

"Rough day is all." My voice was exhausted and small as I muttered against his chest.

"Did something happen, Darling?" I shook my head, taking note of the pissed-off tone in his voice. "You know I'll be the first to punish them if you need me to."

"Nothing happened, 'just been a bad day." I drew patterns on his chest. "All day I've had this niggling feeling in my chest and small things have built up and then when the cup smashed it was just the last straw." I trailed off, new tears dripping off my cheeks. "Didn't mean to break it Azira, just lost focus and-" His soft hushing cut me off as his fingers scratched gently at my scalp.

"You don't need to apologise, Love, as long as your okay." The relief that overtook my system was ridiculously strong and deep down I knew he wasn't really fussed about the cup but I needed to hear it. "It's just a cup. It is replaceable whereas you are not." I dismissed the flush on my cheeks as I pulled away from his chest, looking up at him. Sparkling blue eyes stared down at me with a soft smile as I rubbed my thumb over his cheek.

"Why don't we go and get comfortable whilst our angel finishes that drink, Darling?" I nodded, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale's cheek before taking Crowley's hand and following him to the bedroom.

Flinging his sunglasses on the bedside table, he sat on the edge of the bed. Serpent eyes looked up at me expectantly and though I tried to stop it, my bottom lip trembled. His arms stretched open for me and I fell into them with a cry of anguish.

His slender arms wrapped my legs around him so we were chest to chest, hands holding me tightly around him as I cried into his neck. My cry in the kitchen had been one Of pain, panic, anger and frustration at myself and the world. But this one was relief, pent-up emotion and overwhelming gratitude to my two celestials. I let myself into him, neither of us paying mind to my echoing wails or the tears that soaked his collar. Not even the way my cries shook both of our bodies.

Somehow, none of these things annoyed the demon who merely dismissed it for comforting me. Once I settled down, I lay boneless against him, head on his shoulder and body slouching whilst I caught my breath. I shifted my head to look up at him with puffy, tired eyes. My shaking hand rubbed his cheek, thumb grazing his cheekbone as he smiled down at me, letting his eyes flutter shut.

The shuffle of slippers at the door brought us back to reality but I didn't want to shift. Three steaming cups were placed on the nightstand before the bed dipped beside us.

"Feeling any better Darling?" The softness in the demon's voice caught me off guard for a second. I hummed out a yes, not having the energy for a better response, blinking tiredly as the world finally slowed down.

"Let's hop into bed whilst Crowley gets changed, Love." I nodded, crawling off his lap and flopping dramatically in the middle of the bed, beside a pyjama-clad angel. The fresh hot chocolate was placed in my hands once I sat up. I smiled as the heat seeped into my skin, sighing in delight as the sweet liquid ran down my throat. The two chuckled and Crowley climbed in beside me, gulping down his drink, mostly to appease Azira. The heat didn't bother him, it had no effect against hellfire.

A comfortable silence filled the room as we finished our drinks, basking in each other's company for a few moments. Rather quickly my eyes began to feel heavier. The cup was slipped from my grasp as I wiggled down under the covers, Crowley pressed reassuringly against my back.

"Hey Azira," I whispered, tapping his shoulder hesitantly. "Will you read to me?" The uncertainty dissipated immediately when he broke out in a smile and miracled a book with the flourish of his hand.

"It would be my pleasure, Love, do cuddle down and relax." The three of us got comfortable and I held Crowley's hand that draped over my waist as Aziraphale's voice floated to my ears, and the story began.

All three of us knew I wouldn't last long but he still happily read, knowing it would calm me and I might rest properly. And rightfully so, writhing minutes I had drifted off beside my two favourite beings.

#good omens #good omens x reader imagines #good omens x reader #good ineffable omens #ineffeble husbands #ineffable husbands x reader #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #crowley x arizaphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #aziraphale imagines #crowley imagines

[indigovigilance]

Jimbriel, Satan, the Book of Life, and what it means for Crowley

Acknowledging that what we know so far about the Book of Life from various characters is highly suspect, I'm going to posit to you that Beelzebub is actually the true authority on the Book of Life, and that they bookend Season 2 with very important (and hopefully accurate) information about the Book of Life. With that in mind, let's take Beezlebub's S2E1 description and see how it fits with other canon evidence:

But what does it mean to have never existed in the Good Omens universe? For that, let us look to Satan.

From in-show canon, we know that Adam was able to retroactively change Satan's status as his father to not his father:

Adam altered reality, although Crowley, Aziraphale, the other celestials, and even Adam himself remember those events from a timeline that supposedly has been erased:

But Crowley nonetheless confirms that this is reality now. Satan was never Adam's father.

Additionally, though not technically in-show canon, we know from Notorious NRG that once Satan became Lucifer, this erased Lucifer from existence in the GO universe:

And Crowley's monologue in the bar drives it home; even though Lucifer no longer exists, Crowley still remembers him, and some key events that they were involved in together.

But a more dramatic portrayal of erasure is found in our favorite Good Omens himbo, Jimbo. In the trial of Gabriel, the Metatron makes direct allusion to the fact that Gabriel will no longer be Gabriel after his demotion:

Not "your memory of your time as the supreme archangel will be erased," no, it's:

Your memory of your time as Gabriel will be erased.

Whether he means to or not, Aziraphale reinforces this characterization of memory-loss-as-new-identity:

This can be taken simply as a safety measure, but Jimbo doesn't understand it that way and we see throughout the remainder of the season that Aziraphale is very consistent about calling his unexpected guest "Jim," even correcting Crowley when they're speaking privately and it wouldn't blow his cover to call him Gabriel:

But the final word on memory and identity, especially as they pertain to Jimbriel, again comes from our Lord of the Flies, Beelzebub:

All your you is your memories.

Altogether we see that there is significant in-show canon to support a theory that memory is inextricably linked with identity, and that when memory is removed, identity is so drastically changed that the name of the entity must also change... and the person who existed before, with that former name, exists no longer; it is as if they never had.

(But, as we see in the case of Gabriel, they can be restored.)

I told you in the title that this post was about the Book of Life: it is. Everything discussed here about memory and identity must necessarily characterize how the Book of Life operates, at least with respect to erasure. When someone is erased, they don't vanish, but they are so changed it is as if a new person has taken the place of the old, the way Jim took the place of Gabriel, until he got his memories back. But we can surmise that when someone is erased from the Book of Life, their memories aren't conveniently stored in a TARDIS/Ru Paul fly for later recovery. The memories may not be gone, but I'm going to guess that they would be extremely difficult (or impossible) to retrieve.

What this means for Crowley:

I think we need to give this scene a lot more credit for telling us how this universe works. Surface level, it reads as "you don't understand my trauma, and how I've been changed by it." Which is a very valid interpretation. But we can dig deeper and see that, given everything else we know about celestial beings losing their memories, names, and identities, Crowley is alluding to something far more horrific than just the scars left by flaming swords and halo-grenades.

These are the scars of a lobotomy. Something was taken from him, and he is aware of it.

He knows that his memory has been tampered with. Various people (Furfur, Saraqael) tell him that they recognize him, and of things they've done together. He has no recollection of them, but instead of getting agitated, he brushes it off and ignores it. This lack of questions from the guy who questions everything tells us that he already has the answers; not the memories, but the knowledge of why he doesn't have them.

Furthermore, when he's trying to get Jim to remember the something bad and Jim says it hurts, Crowley says:

I know. Do it anyway.

How does Crowley know that it hurts, to try to recall memories that have been taken out of your head?

Because he's been through it.

He has tried to remember, and some memories, like working on the Horsehead Nebula with Saraqael or monkeying around with Furfur, weren't worth the pain. Or perhaps it was pain on top of pain to remember what he had lost.

It is an especial testament to the cruelty of Heaven that he remembers going into battle, but not the bonds he formed with his friends. He remembers a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulfur, but not the work he did on the Horsehead Nebula, a thing that brought him joy.

And now, the person he loves most in the world, his only refuge from the terror of his empty nightmares, from his malignant and creeping sense of unease that something is missing, has gone back to that place where his identity was so horribly violated that he lost his name.

How will our hero cope?

If you liked this meta, you will almost certainly like my meta on Continuity Errors.

For my thoughts on who Crowley may have been before the fall, go here.

For my thoughts on how this pertains to Metatron, go here.

As I continue to produce metas related to this theory, you'll be able to find them all here.

#good omens #good omens 2 #book of life #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #gabriel #ineffable husbands #ineffable bureaucracy #beelzebub #ivoc #erasure theory

[ineffable-suffering]

Re: "You go too fast for me, Crowley", because I think I finally figured out the real meaning behind that line

Naturally, this line of all lines, the most line of them all, is constantly circling around my rotten brain like a moth around a flame.

In addition, though, there's always been another Good Omen's line/exchange that has kept bothering me again lately. And literally until just about five minutes ago, I had never thought of relating them back to each other.

Now, five minutes later, I have and I think I just ... figured it out.

In case you were wondering: The second line that wouldn't leave my head is what Aziraphale says to Crowley during their clandestine meeting at St. James' Park in 1862 when Crowley asks him for Holy Water:

A: "I'm not bringing you a suicide pill, Crowley!"

And here's what bugs me about this: Why did Aziraphale, without a breath of hesitation, immediately assume Crowley wanted the Holy Water to commit suicide if things ever went wrong?

That's ... such a dark assumption to make. Especially because that is absolutely not what Crowley wanted it for, as he literally says himself:

C: "That's not what I want it for, just insurance."

And what does Aziraphale reply?

A: "I'm not an idiot, Crowley!"

Because he firmly, firmly believes that Crowley is asking him to bring him the Holy Water as a foolproof method of taking his own life in case Heaven and Hell ever find out about them.

To this day, that conversation gives me chills whenever I think about it. We so rarely get see what genuine emotions and thoughts for and about Crowley Aziraphale keeps neatly tucked away behind that tightly buttoned waistcoat of his. This moment in 1862 is one of the very rare ones where his façade slips a little – and the peak we get isn't a fun one. It's a very dark, scared and vulnerable one.

What am I on about and how does this all relate to the infamous "You go too fast for me, Crowley"-line? Let's look at it under the cut.

(Word count: 2560 | Reading time: ~10 min. | TW: mentions of suicide)

Like I mentioned up above, it always struck me to my core that Aziraphale very clearly immediately assumes Crowley wants the Holy Water for possible suicide. Not only is that a very dark and upsetting thought, it also poses the question: Why? Why is that the first place Aziraphale's mind goes to?

Crowley says at the very beginning of their conversation:

C: "We have a lot in common, you and me."

He's definitely referring to their (very mutual) relationship Arrangement and the fact that they both find themselves kept apart and watched by their respective head offices, not allowing them to ever misstep and give themselves away.

After bickering around a little like they do, Crowley asks his favour – and he makes it very clear in a quiet and serious voice that:

C: "This is something else. [...] For if it all goes wrong."

He's not just talking about Heaven or Hell finding out about some silly frivolous miracles, no. He's talking about them finding out about their Arrangement, their relationship. The worst of all worst case scenarios.

So bad, in fact, that he doesn't even ask his favour out loud but instead decided to write it down.

Aziraphale's reaction is ... severe.

We immediately see his face drop as, he too, realizes that this is all of a sudden a very serious conversation indeed. And he immediately and vigorously denies Crowley's request because he thinks it to be one for a suicide pill.

To understand how he could arrive at that lightning-quick (and also wrong) conclusion, we have to try and understand how Aziraphale sees Crowley and the threat that the angel himself as well as their relationship poses to Crowley.

Crowley can, at times, be a very self-deprecating and cynical character. He's without a doubt carrying a lot of trauma and unspoken fears and emotions with him at all times. Aziraphale at this point in their relationship probably has a good notion of what those are – but he doesn't know the whole depth of it because they've never been able to speak freely enough and Crowley has seemingly decided to keep many-a things to himself, still. They both tread the waters of plausible deniability very well.

So, to jump to the conclusion of Crowley entertaining suicidal thoughts in the face of unavoidable danger is ... quite a violent jump. And remember: "[...] underneath it all, Crowley was an optimist. If there was one rock-hard certainty that had sustained him through the bad times then it was utter surety that the universe would look after him."

So, what is it that Aziraphale does know that would drive him to such a drastic conclusion when, in reality, secret optimist Crowley only ever wanted the Holy Water to protect himself against Hell to come out safe on the other end of things?

2500 BC, Land of Uz: A: "That [going along with Heaven/Hell as far as you can] sounds, um ..." C: "Lonely? Yeah." A: "But you said it wasn‘t." C: "I‘m a demon. I lied."

After Crowley helps Aziraphale out in Edinburgh in 1827, Crowley is immediately sucked back down to Hell We don't know what exactly happened after that or just how long Crowley was gone. We also don't know if Crowley ever told Aziraphale what happened, once he returned. What we and Aziraphale do know, is that Crowley ends up asking him for Holy Water, out of the blue, only a couple of decades later.

1601, The Globe: A: "But if Hell finds out [about the Arrangement], they won't just be angry. They'll destroy you." (additionally, later in time, C: "My lot does not send rude notes.")

Ergo: It's very clear that Aziraphale seems to have put two and two together with his own angel math by what he has a) witnessed himself and b) what Crowley has said himself which equals: In going against Hell, Crowley has felt incredibly lonely before he had Aziraphale by his side and if Heaven and Hell were to ever find out about them, Hell's punishment would be a whole lot worse than Heaven's.

He thinks Hell would destroy Crowley.

So when Crowley, who so rarely says how he really feels and one of the few times he did, told Aziraphale he was lonely, says he wants the Holy Water, the immediate conclusion Aziraphale comes to is: He wants it as an emergency exit. In case things go pear-shaped. He wants it to escape whatever dreadful punishment Hell would have in stock for such a lonely traitor. He wants it as a suicide pill.

For Aziraphale to not even entertain the thought or believe that Crowley does indeed only want the Holy Water as a means of self-defense is, again, absolutely heartbreaking. Because it tells us a thing or two just how scared and desperate Aziraphale thinks Crowley to be. Something along the lines of: "If I myself am already so immensely terrified of Hell's punishment for Crowley, how terrified must Crowley be."

I think a whole lot of this is also very, very strong projection and shows us how Aziraphale himself feels about all of it. How scared he is for himself and Crowley. Of what would be done to them.

A: „Out of the question! Do you know what trouble I'd be in if they knew I‘d been ... fraternizing?“

He knows they would both suffer immense consequences and that Crowley‘s still would be worse. If anything, in a dark and twisted way, it shows that Aziraphale himself has definitely entertained the idea of suicide as a concept, at least. Maybe not for himself or Crowley, yet, but remember, he‘s awfully fond of Shakespeare‘s Hamlet.

A: „To be or not to be? Buck up, Hamlet!“

Yeah, buck up indeed. (By the way, there's a great meta by @greenthena on why Aziraphale likes Hamlet so much that kind of plays into my point a little. You can read it here).

And again, who knows what Aziraphale might have actually witnessed of Hell's cruel ways already in the past (Edinburgh of 1827, or at other times) that made him arrive at the conclusion that, ultimately, suicide would be the less painful choice for Crowley when faced with Hell's consequence for their relationship.

I told you this was gonna take a bit of a darker turn. So, here we are. At the turn. It doesn't get much lighter from here on out, I'm afraid.

Because all of this gives "You go too fast for me, Crowley" a whole new devastating meaning.

Personally, I always found it a teensy bit difficult to relate that line back to Aziraphale implying that Crowley was trying to push their relationship a little too fast for him.

Deducing that as the meaning of "You goo to fast for me" after we were shown in the montage of S1E3 that Aziraphale, from circa 1941 on, was undoubtedly fully aware of just how madly in love he was with Crowley, has always felt odd to me. And it continued to feel even odder after we got the whole story of 1941 in S2.

Because if that minisode showed us anything, it's that if you let Aziraphale take over the metaphorical wheel for about five minutes, "too fast" doesn't even match the astronomical speed with which he crashes head first into 15th base. Forget the hand holding and kissing, let's go straight to you shooting me on the first date I planned for us!

And they say romance is dead.

Now look, of course, Aziraphale is still keeping most of his romantic feelings and longing bottled up out of fear that Heaven and Hell could find out about them and have Crowley destroyed. We've established that this very big fear of his is the driving factor behind him never trying to overstep that invisible line.

But still, those feelings? They're there. Oh, Hell, they are t-h-e-r-e.

Our angel is a master of self-delusion but not even he is holy enough to deny the fact that, if he could, he'd want nothing more than to lock that demon down and elope together into their happily-ever-after.

So, when Aziraphale finally budges and hands over the Holy Water to Crowley in 1967, I've always had a hard time believing that that line coming from Mr. "I guess there's something to be said for shades of grey" himself actually meant: "I'm not ready yet, you want to go faster than I do."

Because really, apart from trying to convince Aziraphale of the Arrangement and rescuing him from every silly, coincidental predicament the angel has gotten himself into over the millennia, what exactly is it that Crowley did here to "go too fast"? Hell, he's been at it at the pace of a snail ever since, very well knowing that Aziraphale would take a lot of gentle nudging and lunch temptations invitations to agree with the Arrangement.

All Crowley does in that moment in the car is offer Aziraphale a lift, anywhere he wants to go. And yes, that is code their little dance, that is how he shows his love for Aziraphale. But Aziraphale has never before deemed that an issue or seen it as a too-fast progression of their relationship. He even suggests another date himself two seconds later, saying:

A: "Perhaps we could go for a picknick one day. Dine at the Ritz."

So, what, one sentence later he suddenly wants to hit the breaks again? After he literally looked like this the last time Crowley drove (literally way too fast) through burning London?

Nah, I'm not buying it.

Instead, here's what I think Aziraphale really means with this line that changed us all (and I'm sorry, but I'm about to one-up the sadness of the 1862 meeting):

I think Aziraphale is referring to what he thinks is the reason Crowley wants the Holy Water for.

Suicide.

And boy-fucking-howdy, does that change the game.

Because if we assume that Aziraphale, all throughout the one-century-long Holy Water standoff, thought Crowley wanted it as a quick, ahem, Escape From Everything, what I think Aziraphale really means with "You go too fast for me" is this:

To him, Crowley is asking the most cruel deed of him to bring him the one thing that could take Crowley away from Aziraphale for good. For ever. In case things go pear shaped. In case Hell finds out about them and comes after Crowley.

To Aziraphale, Crowley is asking him to load the bullet into his gun for the time it won't be a trick. So he can escape before Hell gets to him.

More devestatingly, I think Aziraphale even understands where that notion comes from. Aziraphale knows how dangerous their relationship is. And Hell does not send rude notes. So, I think after pondering on it for a good millennia, part of him has come to understand why Crowley would want an emergency exit.

Which is absolutely fucking heartbreaking.

Especially because that's not even what Crowley was thinking when he made his request. He truly only wanted it as a defense. But Aziraphale doesn't believe or fully realize that. Aziraphale believes the Holy Water is a suicide pill and to some extent even understands why Crowley might want that.

And yet, despite (wrongly, but well) understanding Crowley's intentions, Aziraphale is still deeply upset and terrified at the thought of Crowley taking his own life should they ever get caught. Which explains his extreme reaction all the way back at their clandestine meeting at St. James' Park.

Aziraphale assuming Crowley's way out of the most pear-shaped situation of them all would be suicide also means that Aziraphale would be the one who'd be ... well, left behind.

He recognises that choosing death over possible eternal punishment is maybe somewhat of an understandable choice. And yet, it's a choice that, to him, Crowley has made without him. Seemingly way before their first talk about it.

Aziraphale thinks Crowley seems to have made up his mind about his escape plan without him in it.

He thinks that if they were caught, Crowley would want some Holy Water around to quickly chug before he would be at Hell's mercy and that would be it.

Crowley would, for the first time ever, really leave. Not just for Alpha Centauri. But actually leave. Escape and run away to a point of no return. For good. Without Aziraphale. To a place where Aziraphale couldn't follow him, no matter how fast he tried to run himself.

It goes a little something like:

"If they found out about us, you would choose to go where I couldn't follow. And you're asking me to pave the road for you to walk there. Without me ever being able to get a say in walking alongside you. You want to go to places where I could never join you. You'd run away without me and I understand why but you didn't even give me a chance to catch up. You go too fast for me, Crowley."

F*ck, man. I think I need to lie down.

Y'know what else that gives new meaning to?

Alright, that's it, I'm out. Enough sad meta-ing for the day. See you all around once I've stopped slipping further into the void, folks. :')

#good omens #good omens meta #my own meta #good omens season 2 #good omens 2 #gos2 #go2 #good omens s2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #you goo too fast for me crowley #aziraphale is master of projection #i made myself sad with this #The Arrangement #holy water #im gonna go read fluff now bye

[ao3cassandraic]

Kayfabe: A Good Omens meta

"Kayfabe," in wrestling, is the performance (including outside the wrestling ring) of whatever storyline is being woven around the wrestlers. Breaking kayfabe is Serious Business for a wrestler; the illusion is part of the event. If you ever wondered how John Cena could anchor an entire HBO miniseries brilliantly, kayfabe is a big part of the answer.

Because of their histories and how their respective Head Offices treat them, Crowley and Aziraphale approach their version of kayfabe -- their whole "I am an angel! You are a demon! We're hereditary enemies!" schtick, also their "we are good bad proper little footsoldiers, honest, Boss" schtick to their respective Head Offices -- very, very differently.

I promise there's a point to this. I PROMISE. But let me walk through it first.

Both of them know that one awkward question to Upstairs at the wrong moment and its Fallsville. Crowley, however, knows a couple of things that Aziraphale doesn't have to:

Punishment isn't just once; in some ways, the Fall is never over. Beelzebub or Hastur can throw you in the Dung Pits whenever, after all, or feed you to a Hellhound, or zap you like an Eric. Crowley's lot do not send rude notes. (s2: we do not know what happened to Crowley after Hell dragged him back at the end of the Resurrectionists 'sode, but I think it safe to say it was not great for Crowley. Litotes: your key to quality meta.)

Downstairs can and does check in -- or drag Crowley Downstairs for a chat and possibly a bit of idle torture -- whenever they feel like it. Downstairs seems pretty disorganized, especially its leadership, so I'd expect ad-hoc surprise inspections from them. Downstairs can invade Crowley's flat's TV, his Bentley's radio, and his very mind to perform those inspections. Crowley is never, ever safe from this. He can't relax. Ever.

Heaven, on the other hand, has 37 levels of scriveners and zero interest in Earth. Talk of "reprimands" and "miracle budgets" and Michael being a stickler and whatnot suggests a formal review process happening on a schedule, governed largely by the dreaded (but quite possibly fake-able or spinnable) "paperwork" rather than direct observation by Aziraphale's peers or superiors. Otherwise, Aziraphale is usually left to his own devices. Remember how startled he is when Gabriel shows up at the sushi restaurant in s1? This is unusual!

(We also know from Muriel that Heaven's records office doesn't seem to get consulted a whole lot. It's possible this just means that first-through-thirty-sixth-level scriveners handle everything, but in my experience of large bureaucracies, it's the folks at the bottom of the hierarchy who invariably get run off their feet first. Don't see why Heaven would be any different.)

Moreover, Heaven's punishments seem pretty light, on the whole? Our angel is so anxious and so sensitive to slights that I'm sure the reprimands aren't fun, and nobody likes a reduced miracle budget... but Heavenly "needs improvement" reviews don't seem to be a patch on the Dung Pits. The real threat is Falling, which is more than horrible enough to serve as deterrent; Heaven doesn't need to add torments.

Moreover moreover, Aziraphale is mostly aligned with his Head Office in a way that Crowley really, really isn't. I'm sure Aziraphale does a lot of his Heaven assignments with a song in his heart and a skip in his step -- it's mostly not smiting or the like. Crowley... probably spends a lot of his work time figuring out how to obey the letter of Hellish law while defying its spirit. Crowley's in far more danger of angering his bosses.

So Aziraphale doesn't have to keep up kayfabe a lot of the time, not even while interacting with Crowley. He can and does save it for the rare occasions Heaven takes a personal interest. Crowley, however, must keep up kayfabe always, whether Aziraphale's there or not. The courage it must have taken that snake to slither up the wall of Eden!

The way Crowley navigates his permanent need for kayfabe is twofold. First, his all but instinctive refusal to accept any positive word or compliment about himself or his actions from anyone ever -- "I'M NOT NICE!" If Hell were ever to hear someone characterizing Crowley that way... That's also why Crowley is a bit less exercised when Jimbriel calls him nice: "nobody'll ever believe you."

Second, a species of Orwellian doublethink: maintaining a running commentary in his head of how he's going to justify any unHellish actions to Hell, since he can never know exactly when he'll have to or what exactly they'll have a bug up their butt (sorry, Beez) about. Even high as a kite on laudanum in the Edinburgh cemetery, Crowley can explain his current justification (in a curiously sober voice -- is Crowley ever really high in that scene? or is it all kayfabe? I lean toward kayfabe) to Aziraphale, "Not kind! Off my head on laudanum, not responsible for my actions."

We can see the kayfabe mismatch play out a few times, and it does appear that Aziraphale gets more concerned for Crowley's safety and more aware of Crowley's need for kayfabe post-Arrangement. That doesn't mean he always remembers, of course -- he wouldn't, he just doesn't have that same desperate need. And, of course, the ineffable walnuts do not communicate, as s2 went to some lengths to point out. I do think kayfabe is part of that -- it's hard for Crowley to be sincere when he's constantly doublethinking, and Aziraphale's off-and-on involvement with kayfabe (and all his other tendencies toward lying) disincline him to achieve or even learn about honest communication.

One s1 scene I went back and rewatched while thinking about this was the Globe scene, which contains Aziraphale's Saint-Peter-esque three-time denial of Crowley. I find it easy now to read that as Aziraphale going "oh crap do I need to drop back into kayfabe now? I didn't break kayfabe, did I?" and Crowley grinning, at least partly as reassurance. (Partly, of course, because Aziraphale is cute and funny even when kayfabing -- and partly because Aziraphale's sudden drop into kayfabe is Aziraphale trying to protect Crowley, of course Crowley's pleased by that.)

The wall pin, now that I think about it, also gains a little nuance from this. Crowley's fear-laced ire is genuine, but how many times must Aziraphale have heard Crowley snarl at him not to break kayfabe in this way? No surprise he's a little unimpressed. (With Crowley's demand. He's clearly very impressed by Crowley.)

In the s2 Job minisode, Aziraphale hilariously drops kayfabe (and that epic whole-body halo, loved that, great job FX folks) almost immediately. Crowley allows it, because Crowley is on firm ground -- Hell will be just fine with Crowley wrapping the angel in a Chuck-Jones-cartoon amount of scroll parchment and flipping him off.

When angel and demon collude on the con later, of course, they observe kayfabe, improv-style -- Crowley helps Aziraphale deal with the Job's-children situation without giving either of them away to the watching angel posse. Interestingly, it's Aziraphale who de-gecko-izes the kids. That gives Crowley an out, sort of: "look, the mansion collapse missed them because they were in the cellar, I turned them into geckos, totally Hellish thing to do, they'd never survive in the wild, but then this bloody interfering angel went and changed them back!"

And how does Crowley console a distraught angel who thinks he's about to be dragged to Hell? Crowley explains kayfabe in the fewest and clearest words possible. "Well, yeah, you did, but... I'm not going to tell anybody. Are you?"

So yeah. That's kayfabe for the Ineffable Walnuts.

But I promised there was a point to this, didn't I? Yes, I have a point.

My point is...

my POINT is...

my point IS...

(not dolphins, not this time)

My point is, how much of s2's Final Fifteen Minutes is kayfabe?

That's my point.

#good omens season 2 spoilers #gos2spoilers #gos2 spoilers #ineffable husbands #ineffable walnuts #kayfabe #good omens meta #the point is not dolphins

[mrghostrat]

hey happy trans day of visibility. i'll get visible why not

i'm nonbinary, specifically genderfluid. i identify with this label because idk, even though i look back at my childhood and spot signs of dysphoria and gender fuckery, i don't feel like i was ever masquerading as something i wasn't. i'm just different now. and i may be different again in the future. i was a little girl then, and i'm a little bilv now.

i'm AFAB and just passed my 2 year T anniversary. i'm loving it, and just like putting together a pinterest board of hair and fashion styles to figure out how i wanted to present my truest self, starting T to change my voice and body and facial hair was just another step in that. i love how i look now and love all the changes T has brought me.

at this point i plan to remain on T indefinitely, but knowing a friend who took T for four years then stopped because she got to where she wanted to be, i feel safe and comfortable enough to stop if i ever change my mind. this is why visibility is important 💕

i don't plan on having any surgery at this point. i thought about top surgery for a while, but considering my fluidity and how much i've enjoyed tits in the past, i think i want to keep them in case i ever want to focus on them again in the future. this is the only thing i "struggle" with; how much i would like to have a flat flat chest right now, but know i may not want that in future, and surgery is so definite. thankfully i'm happy with binders and am small enough to live in a comfy middle ground.

i'm so grateful for all the trans art in the good omens fandom, especially @chernozemm's explicit illustrations that highlight how fun and sexy tcocks are. i did look into phalloplasties and matoidioplasties once before, but never felt as strongly about it either way, which didn't seem like a good basis for such an intensive surgery. now i'm less ambivalent about my genitals and actively love them

(i also suffered from vaginismus my entire life, until about 2 or 3 years ago when i started engaging with more nsfw content and must have just? exposure therapy'd myself out of it?? it feels like i didn't do anything at all and it just went away on its own, which made me personify my vag a bit, bc i'm so fucking proud of her. now we're finally getting along, i'm taking her to my grave)

keep drawing, keep writing, keep sharing. every little thing you put out there helps people like me love ourselves more, and hearing other trans stories only helps solidify how real and genuine we are for feeling the way we do about ourselves. happy tdov

#ghost scribbles #tdov #trans day of visibility

[jojikawa]

VALORANT SHIP DYNAMICS 2 💟

Ships: Sova, Fade, Sage, Cypher, Kayo, Omen (again)

This is completely for fun and not to be taken to seriously! 🌟

SOVA

Thinks you are a goddess

Sends you selfies of him and his grandmother. He talks to her about you as well. Brings you her cooking.

Is awkward but you can’t tell bc he’s so cool. You find him very charming.

Mildly protective bc he doesn’t want to be overbearing.

Is the type to want to have alone time in the private quarters of the protocol to drink hot cocoa!

Forehead kisses

Wants to teach you Russian

FADE

Your goth gf

Protects you from nightmares

Tsundere! Acts like you smother her but she really craves the affection. She is very touch starved.

Is always your rock when you need comfort from anxiety/panic attacks.

Forehead touching ❤️

Thinks you’re too good for her. Too innocent for valorant too.

Refuses to let Chamber talk to you. He’s too flirty. Pheonix too

Kissing is her favorite thing to do.

CYPHER

Literally so depressed and exhausted with everyone but you always seem to cheer him up.

Doesn’t really get why you give him time when he believes your precious time could be spent on anyone else

Gets flushed when you ask about his tech or when you express concern when it’s broken.

Respects your privacy and doesn’t spy on you.

Let’s you see his face…once.

Gets super flushed when you go on about how cute he is!

Calls you pets in Arabic like كيتي (kitty/kitten)

SAGE

You are the reason she makes difficult decisions and wants to get stronger

Mommy gf ofc. Makes your bed and does your laundry.

Cooks for you. Packs lunches.

Eskimo kisses + hand holding (falls asleep holding your hand) 🥹

Heals you first no matter what

Takes the time to learn how to do your hair

Random gift giving. Her love language is LITERALLY DOING EVERYTHING.

KAYO

Forgets that he’s a machine when he’s with you. You make him feel things that do beyond the shackles of his AI.

Let’s you hold and even throw his knife.

Regularly threatens the other agents over you. Especially Reyna.

Wonders what if you’d like him as a flesh person.

Urges to teach you self defense. He’s lost so many and he doesn’t want to lose you too 😭

Replays cute past events in his memory files while you’re sleeping. And is always storing new ones.

Can’t lie to him bc he documents everything. He can always detect when something is wrong.

More OMEN

Is a private guy so he will only ever agree to hold you when no agents are around. If you’re really needy he’ll smoke you two for privacy. Probably finds more comfort on it than you do!

Has a hard time with his whole shadows situation and not being able to remember himself before “omen” but believes that if he has you then he’s okay how it is.

Tries to be funny…fails. His voice makes the punchline go over your head.

Sends you emails to your protocol device when your away too long.

Doesn’t allow you to go on any missions alone or he is a nervous wreck.

I’ll add more soon! These are fun to write before bed.☺️ I gotta find more of these cute pictures! I get them all from Pinterest so I can’t exactly credit the original artists. Hopefully they don’t mind! - Maron!

#valorant #valorant headcanons #valorant fanfiction #valorant imagines #valorant x reader #valorant hcs #cypher headcanons #cypher x reader #fade x reader #sage x reader #Kayo x reader #sova x reader #omen x reader #omen headcanons #Sova #Fade #Sage #Kayo #Omen #Cypher

[queer-reader-07]

crowley and aziraphale being sexy is not mutually exclusive from them being asexual. y’all do realize that, right?

i’ve seen people say “i just want them to be ace icons, they’re an old gay couple they’re not meant to be sexy!!” and while that’s well intentioned and i can see where you’re coming from, i have to disagree.

don’t get me wrong, i don’t necessarily want a sex scene in canon. i did and still do read both of them as ace. the wanting them to be ace is not the issue.

i take issue with the reasoning some people are providing. let me put this bluntly: old people can and do have sex. old straight couples have sex, old queer couples have sex. being old is not synonymous with someone not being sexually active. and it says a lot about how you all view aging and old people when you act like old people can’t get it on.

secondly, aziraphale and crowley can be sexy and also never have sex. ANYBODY can be sexy and never actually have sex. because sexy is vibe, it’s a state of mind, it’s about your physicality and the way you carry yourself. you can think someone is sexy and never want to fuck them, you can think you yourself are sexy and not go any further than that.

so yeah, crowley can look hot and sexy in his turtlenecks and waistcoats. and aziraphale can look sexy in his waistcoats and button downs. you can look at david tennant’s jawline and be enamored and you can look at michael sheen’s nose and think it’s beautiful. and they never have to actually have sex with each other for any of that to be true. sexiness does not necessitate sex.

not to mention, every time i see the “they’re an old gay couple they don’t need to be sexy!!” argument it feels very much like sanitizing queer relationships and love for the sake of cishet comfortability. too often queer people are not allowed to be sexual, or for fucks sake, not just sexual but physical with their significant others. because physical manifestations and displays of queer love make the cishet world uncomfortable. and not allowing that kind of physical love to exist in media only serves to further perpetuate the issue.

queer love and queer people don’t have to be palatable to a cishet audience. queer love should get to exist authentically and queer people should get to exist and present in however way they see fit.

and in the context of good omens i think that means letting aziraphale and crowley be sexy even if they never have sex. that means letting them be physical in their love. because queer people deserve that, especially old queer people

#i don’t even know if this makes sense but here ya go #can’t believe i (an asexual) unironically wrote ‘sexy is a state of mind’ in an otherwise serious tumblr post #anyways let aziraphale and crowley be sexy even if they never have sex #asexual aziraphale #asexual crowley #asexual aziracrow #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens 2 #good omens meta

[kimberleyjean]

Aziraphale's Illustrated Bible

There are a lot of interesting items stored within Aziraphale's bookshop and one I find fascinating is the bible (or bibles) that are typically on the stand next to his desk and which they use for the Job flashback/memory sequence. Here's what these books look like in episode 2 - the blue detailed folio, the beige folio held by Aziraphale, and this same beige folio when opened to Job:

You might not have noticed yet, but there are several other images shown in this book in the second season! Often the book is out of focus and far from the camera, but some sleuths on reddit were able to identify the particular images being shown.

Let's take a look at those images and where they occur in the show. All of these images are famous illustrations by Harold Copping:

1. "Joseph knows his brethren" - Book of Genesis, Old Testament

This image is on display in episode 1 and looks like this on camera. To spot it, I used the little telltale shadow that is created on the ground:

The story of Joseph may be more familiar to you as "Joseph and the Technicolour Dreamcoat". I've certainly had to brush up on my bible knowledge myself, so please, if you know more than I do and I've gone wrong anywhere let me know. Joseph is rejected by his family and they believe him dead. He then gets promoted to a high-up position in Egypt. The image depicted is when Joseph is reunited with his estranged brothers and they don't recognise him at first (something which happens a lot in season 2!). However, Joseph recognises them and he pretends to be a stranger to them at first. Eventually, he clears the room and says to them "I am Joseph! Is my father still living?". I'm sure there is more to unpack in this story but I'll leave that for someone with better biblical knowledge.

2. "Jacob's vow" - Book of Genesis, Old Testament

This image appears in episode 2:

In the episode, it first appears in the background looking like this:

According to comments on the reddit post, this image could refer to "Jacob’s vow in Bethel, that’s when he promised to worship God if God took care of him, and it was the day after his famous dream about a ladder in heaven. It is generally a symbol of the link between heaven and Earth." Here is a quote from the exact passage: "Genesis 28:20 Then Jacob made a vow, saying, “If God will be with me, and keep me in this way that I am going, and give me bread to eat and clothing to put on, so that I come back to my father's house in peace, then the lord shall be my God. And this stone which I have set as a pillar will be God's house, and of all that you give me, I will surely give a tenth to you." We see a lot of emphasis on food giving this season. The Eccles cakes get offered to Maggie then handed to Crowley. Gabriel offers up lots of little snacks at the ball. The Metatron gifts Aziraphale the coffee. At the ball, we see people being given new clothes as well - is that what this could be referencing? Why do you think these particular images have been chosen?

3. "The Brazen Serpent" - Book of Numbers, Old Testament

What do we think of when we hear "serpent"? Anything snake-like refers to Crowley in this show, so that's where my mind immediately goes.

This appears in episode 3 looking like this (partially occluded):

The story is that God had sent fiery serpents to attack the Israelites for making complaints about God and Moses (no asking questions, no complaints? What kind of organisation is this? They really need to unionise). However, God seems to then have a change of heart and commanded Moses to erect a snake upon a pole, referred to as "Nehushtan", so that anyone bitten by the snakes can just look at this pole and they will survive.

We get some pretty wacky stories about God's fickleness in Good Omens, especially in the S2 Job flashbacks. Is this a reflection of that theme, perhaps.

4. "By the rivers of Babylon" - Book of Psalms, Old Testament

If you don't have a Christian background, you may be more familiar with the song than the story itself. From the wikipedia article: "The song is based on the Biblical Psalm 137:1-4, a hymn expressing the lamentations of the Jewish people in exile following the Babylonian conquest of Jerusalem in 586 BC".

It appears in episode 5 and looks like this:

One Redditor has explained it as such: "The rivers of Babylon symbolize deep grief and longing for freedom by people exiled from their homeland and doomed to live in captivity."

5. Closed Book(s)

The book also appears closed at times. Let's take a look at the scene where Aziraphale retrieves the book for the Job flashback. We see him getting out the beige folio and putting it onto the stand but over the top of an almost identical book. The only difference is that the Job one has blue detailing and the other is a plain/beige cover (seen here in this third image with Crowley, episode 6).

So what is this other book? Well, looking online, it appears that Harold Copping's illustrated bibles could come in sets of two - one for the Old Testament, and one for the New Testament. All the illustrations we see in S2 are from the Old Testament, so why would the New Testament also be there? When explaining this to someone they mentioned that Aziraphale has a lot of misprinted bibles in his collection. So could they instead be two different versions of the same text - one with misprints and one without? I'd be keen to hear your thoughts.

6. Bonus Season 1 Appearance!

In Season One, we also see a Harold Copping illustration - Adam and Eve after the Fall.

The book is in the same place inside the bookshop, as show in episode 1 (26:21) and episode 2 (51:40).

Beyond supporting the themes of Good Omens these books are useful in another way too - finding discontinuities! If you are interested in the discontinuities of Good Omens S2, then please check out this post:

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens theory #good omens clues #harold copping #ineffable mystery #good omens analysis

[thefallennightmare]

Miracle-four

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Author Note: I wanted this to be a slow burn/enemies to lovers but god damn it's so hard to write because I already want Reader and Noah to get together.

Tags: @ada-clarence @nonamessblog @thescarlettvvitch @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @theoneandonlykymberlee @yumikitten @blackveilomens @cherrymedicine13 @thebadchic @notmaddihealy @jay02bo @beaker1636 @jakekiszkasguitarpick @punk-pr1ncessxoxo

With a loud sigh, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and walked towards to front end of the bus. On this bus, I shared it with Davis, Matt, and Bryan, and sometimes one guy from the band would pop in every once in a while: except Noah. At least if he did, it was when I was asleep or not around. Especially lately, Noah and I avoided each other. After the disaster of a dinner a couple nights ago, I refused to speak to him even about work. I went to everyone else instead of him if I had a question, which I didn't often since I knew what I was doing.

I didn't want to think about Noah right now. Not when my mind should only think about my mom.

Lana told me that even though my mom was having a lot of good days, she still refused to speak to me. I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't break but I couldn't cry about it. I needed to focus for work and not give anyone a reason to figure out something was wrong.

We were close to the next city, less than an hour away, and we would hang out in Dallas for two days before heading out once more. Matt mentioned he had a surprise for everyone so called for a bus meeting which is where I found everyone with two surprise visitors.

Folio and Noah.

Giving a small smile to the former, I sat next to him at the table and he returned a smile. Noah was sitting on the long couch of the bus, chatting quietly with Bryan. They must have joined when we stopped last and I was asleep.

Noah's eyes burned hot at the side of my face but I ignored him as I bumped shoulders with Folio. We had been texting a bit the last couple days and have gotten pretty close; no romantic feelings involved. Folio had been a great friend and someone to vent too. I never told him about my mom, though. That was something I would take to the grave.

"Where's Jolly and Nick?" I asked.

"They stayed on our bus. They wanted the peace to sleep."

I nodded before pointing to Matt, who was standing at the front of the bus rubbing his hands together. "Any idea what this is about?"

"No fucking idea," Folio chuckled.

With my phone buzzing in my hand, I dared a peak at the notification to see another subscriber to my Only Fan's page. I didn't have many followers but enough to keep some money coming in. I could pay Lana her first paycheck and the extra income coming in was nice. I wasn't rolling in money but wasn't struggling on how to pay for things. With being constantly surrounded by the guys, I wasn't able to post much, just one other video and a few provocative pictures. I never showed my face, only from the neck down and never naked. I always had some short of clothes or underwear or an arm covering the private areas. Maybe that was the reason I had little subscribers, but it was the rules I set for myself when I started this.

"So, I bet you're all wondering why I called this meeting," Matt spoke while clapping his hands.

Folio muttered a joke to me under his breath which earned a loud laugh from me. Everyone looked our way, and I leaned back into the booth cheeks on fire.

"What's so funny?" Matt quirked a brow.

Noah's eyes pinned me to my spot as I glanced over to him. Something flashed behind those brown iris' while his jaw ticked.

"Nothing, Mr. Dierkes. Please continue with class," Folio joked with a smirk.

I had to bite my lip so I wouldn't laugh again.

"As I was saying," Matt began ignoring Folio. "It's been a week on tour and we've all been working tirelessly to make sure every show fucking rules. But there has been some tension within the group."

"I don't think you feel the same tension as some of us do," Noah said with his eyes on me.

Our eyes matched with intensity, and I let out a deep breath wondering what he meant by that.

Tension? Of course, there was tension between us but that's because we disliked each other.

Folio noticed I was ready to speak, so he pinched the bare skin of my shoulder which caused me to yelp out in slight pain.

"What the fuck was that for?" I seethed.

He nodded towards Matt to continue on, who looked displeased at being interrupted by our antics yet again.

In our days of texting, I told Folio about how it irritates me how Noah acts around me when we're alone versus when others are around. I also may have told him about my tiny feelings for Noah, which Folio told me it was pretty clear how I felt. While I thought no one noticed, Folio saw the stolen glances, the way my body reacted differently when Noah was around, or the way the corner of my lips curled up when Noah spoke or sang.

Always so perceptive.

I tried to get out of him why Noah was so upset about that night in Chicago but Folio refused. He said that was Noah's secret to share.

I tasted blood with how hard I bit my tongue and reluctantly gave Matt my attention.

"Since we'll be in Dallas for a few days, I rented an Airbnb for us to stay at as a way for us to bond or whatever the fuck. There's a pool and grill we can have a pool day on our off day," Matt said with a smile.

My heart sunk deep into the pits of my stomach. At least when we stayed in hotels, I had my room, sometimes doors down from Noah. But now, all of us staying in a house means it would be harder to avoid him.

"Is that necessary?" I questioned.

"Yes," Matt deadpanned. "If you want a hotel, book it on your personal card."

Low blow.

"Whatever," I grumbled while crossing my arms.

He simply gave me a large smirk before speaking again. "The only issue is that there aren't enough beds so some people will have to bunk together or sleep on the couch."

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered while running a hand down my face.

I didn't care the house situation, I would sleep on the floor if I had too if that meant I wouldn't share a bed with anyone, especially Noah. I liked these guys but not that much.

Folio patted my shoulder and whispered low in my ear.

"Maybe you and Noah should bunk together. Team bonding or whatever."

"Fuck off, Folio," I playfully smacked his chest before rising to my feet, his arm falling away from me. Noah was still staring at me and I knew with how close Folio and I had been, he wasn't happy. His jaw clenched so tight, and his hands balled into fists in his lap.

I didn't bother giving him another glance as I turned my back to him to retreat into my bunk to mentally prepare for this team bonding bullshit Matt set up.

Okay, I had to admit. This house was fucking sick.

There were large floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto a beautiful backyard and if you looked past that, you could see the city down below the hill the house was on. It was a large open floor plan with a living room, kitchen, and bar with a pool table off of the dinning room. Upstairs was an open loft area with a large sectional couch and four bedrooms.

While I was in my bunk on the bus, the room situation had been decided by drawing matching straws. No one bothered to ask for me to draw because somehow by the Gods below, Noah was the last to pick and was only left with the color red.

Jolly and Nick.

Bryan and Davis.

Matt and Folio.

Noah and I.

When Folio told me the sleeping arrangements, I wanted to cry in anger. It seemed as if no matter how hard I tried to avoid Noah, something yanked us back together. Folio offered to swap with me but I declined, already deciding that I would sleep on whatever couch was provided.

A warm presence encased around me, making the hairs on my arm prick, and I peered up to my left seeing Noah standing next to me in the house's entryway.

"You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the couch," he said.

I blinked, somewhat surprised that he offered that. I fully expected him to lock me out of the room.

"I'm smaller than you. It might be better for you to sleep on the bed," I offered.

Was I being nice?

My body shivered at the thought.

Noah shook his head then hoisted his back over his shoulder. "Take the room, angel. You're the only girl here. You should have some privacy."

Was he being nice now in front of the others? They all stood less than a few feet from us.

Did I wake up in the twilight zone?

When I went to protest yet again, he shot me a look that caused my lips to pull tight together. We stood in silence for a few moments and I let out a soft breath.

"Thank you."

Noah made a noise in his throat and his eyes glittered as they darted between mine. His large hand brushed away hair from my face and I leaned into his touch, all the pent up anger between us melting away.

The question weighed heavy on my tongue as I pursed my lips a few times.

"Why do you call me angel?" I finally croaked out.

His hand was now wrapped around the back of my neck, the pads of his finger pressing deep into the skin, and shrugged.

"It feels right."

I raised a brow. "What if I don't like it?"

"Too bad. It stays, angel," he dragged out the last word with a large grin.

Irritation flared inside of me but before I could say anything, the warmth around my neck was gone as Noah walked away. I blinked after him, watching as he tossed his bag onto the couch before stepping outside into the large backyard.

"Soundcheck is in one hour!" Matt called out, his voice carrying through the open space.

With that, I forced my feet to take me upstairs to the bedrooms so I could get ready. The only room left was the closet one to the stairs and directly across the long sectional couch. If Noah would sleep here tonight, he'd be able to look right into my room and see me laying in bed. The thought made something ignite in my stomach but I ignored it.

This was the only room with a bathroom attached which made me wonder if the guys purposely gave me this room. As I placed my things throughout the room since we were going to be here for a few days, my phone rang loudly from its spot on the bed as I was in the bathroom and rushed to answer it in time.

"Hello?" I asked breathless

"Hi dear. How're things?"

I smiled into the phone at Lana. "Good. I'm going to be heading to the venue soon to set up. Everything alright?"

"Well," Lana started.

My ass fell into the bed with a groan and prepared myself for what was about to come.

"What happened?"

"Your neighbors found your mother in their bathroom this morning; in their shower."

I pinched my eyes shut with a groan. "Please tell me it was the Johnson's. They know what's going on with her so they would understand. Well, as much as I hoped they would."

"Yes, thankfully. I was able to bring her back home without incidents."

"Good," I let out a long breath. "How is she now?"

"She's fine, in her room resting but-."

"I don't like the sound of that but," I noted.

"Y/N, I know you love your mother and want the upmost best care possible for her."

I nodded. "But."

"But I think your mother would be better in a home where someone can watch and monitor her twenty-four hours of the day. I can only do so much especially when she takes off."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, not wanting to cry. This conversation was one I knew I was bound to have at some point. My mothers Alzheimers was getting progressively worse and soon, I feared there might be a time where I couldn't handle it.

But now wasn't that time.

"I'll think about it," I said after a few beats.

It wasn't a lie, per se. I would think about it, way down the road.

"I'll see if she wants to talk," Lana said.

"No, it's alright. I don't want to bother her."

I couldn't stop the sob that escaped my lips.

"Alright dear. I'll call you tomorrow."

After we said our goodbyes, I let my phone clatter to the floor at my feet then plopped down onto the bed. Tears pricked at my eyes and I dug my palms into them, hoping it would force the tears away. My mom was the most important person in my life. We were all each other had after my father died, so being so far away from her when she needed me the most made the guilt rip me apart.

Was this job worth it? Was the money worth it?

These questions kept replaying in my mine over and over as I laid on the bed staring up at the ceiling. A few tears escaped drying to my warm cheeks. The money was worth it; it had to be. I still wasn't making a lot of money from Only Fans so whatever I made doing this, I needed.

There was a soft knock on my open door and my breath hitched when I noticed Noah leaning against it. How long had he'd been there? Did he hear my conversation with Lana?

I sat up in bed while covertly drying my eyes.

"The manager at the venue said the set up for merch has to be in the hallway downstairs. Is that alright?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I've been put in weirder places so it's fine."

Noah gave a curt nod while crossing his arms over his chest. I suddenly felt small under his eyes and rose to my feet hoping that watching me gather my things to get ready it would be a silent dismissal. But no, he continued to watch every single movement I made.

"Is there anything else you need, Noah?" I asked with a sigh, finally looking at him.

His black shirt clung to the thick muscles of his arms and chest. His brown hair had fallen into his face in a tousled mess from being on the tour bus the majority of the day.

Noah was breathtaking in every single way, and my core practically begged for some kind of friction.

Not now, traitor.

"Have I mentioned how much I love hearing my name coming from your pretty little mouth?," he mused while licking his own.

My legs squeezed together, my body screaming with that small release against my core, but I refused to let him know how bad he was affecting me.

"Is that it?" I asked.

Noah said nothing as he walked over to my open suitcase and riffled through it, obviously looking for something.

"What are you doing?"

My heart raced as I watched him, knowing that if he picked up that red t-shirt, he would find the variety of sex toys I use for my videos. What he found, though, was something I hadn't expected him to. An old shirt of his that I borrowed from the last tour. It was the second night and Bad Omens played a sold-out show. The crowd was alive the entire night and every one of us was buzzing with excitement. Once we returned to the hotel that night, we all jumped into the outdoor pool even though it was pretty chilly that night. Noah offered his dry shirt to me so I could warm up which at the time I took gratefully.

That night was before the night in Chicago. Before Noah's attitude toward me changed.

It got buried along with my other things after the last tour and forgotten about.

Bullshit.

I may have worn it to bed some nights; so much so that his scent had faded while ago.

Noah tossed the shirt over to me and I caught it just before it hit me in my face. My lips stuttered trying to come up with an excuse because I still had it.

"Wear that."

"Excuse me? I asked irritation lacing my words. "Since when do I take orders from you on what I wear?"

He closed the distance between us in two large steps, his fingers tilting my chin up towards his face. Our lips were so close, I could almost taste the beer he must have had before coming into my room. And the hint of bourbon and spice from his cologne filled my senses.

So warm and familiar.

"There's a reason you kept it, angel. Might as well wear it."

Noah's voice was dark and heavy, laced with something I could pinpoint. His eyes were just as dark as his words and I swallowed hard. My body flared with desire, heat pooling between my legs, and I let out a breathless whine eventually nodding.

"Good girl," he breathed across my lips.

His eyes darted from mine down to my lips where it stayed for a long moment before he dropped his hand from my face then left me standing in the room with a heavy wetness and an ache between my legs.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #forced proximity #enemies to lovers #slow burn

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

(Somewhat disorganized thoughts to follow…)

So I’m sitting here thinking about Good Omens, as usual. And I’m wondering. What if Aziraphale hadn’t gone to chat with the Metatron?

Because it’s easy to say “awww yisss there would have been love confessions and kisses and everything would be better.”

But would it?

Because as the great Bildad the Shuhite said, “Nothing has to change.”

If there’s anything this 6000-year slow-burn has shown us, these two are content to remain… not exactly the same, but changing in glacially slow ways (and also not really content, but they’ll fucking do it anyway).

I think watching Gabriel and Beelzebub go off together got them both to realize that things could be different. But would that be enough to get them talking? Or would they have just gone off to their alcoholic breakfast, made a few jokes about whatever the hell’s just happened, then wind up back at the shop drunkenly talking about dolphins and bird space ships again, the needle on their relationship barely moved? And stay that way until the Second Coming finally arrived to shake things up?

Because it’s not a question, really, of them realizing something or revealing something. They both know.

Crowley knows what he wants, but he’d rather spend the next thousand years scowling from the sidelines and watching his angel be a happy idiot than actually put his feelings into words.

And Aziraphale—well, he has ideas, more than we give him credit for, he isn’t wholly oblivious, but his ideas are happy little dream worlds he can play out in his mind. He’s waiting for a better deal—not better than Crowley, obviously, but better than the precarious balance they currently exist in. A perfect shiny happy ending where everything is Good and Nice. And he’s willing to wait basically forever, just thinking about how nice it will be when it happens.

They need nudges. They need excuses. Especially Aziraphale. He sets up this whole ball for Nina and Maggie (partially) so he can ask Crowley to dance for the first time, but he’s there every day! You can just ask him to dance any time! He still denies having a “special” person to amnesia Gabriel. He doesn’t remember anything! Literally everyone in Heaven and Hell and also Earth think you’re an item now anyway! Just say the words!

The nudge for him was the Metatron’s offer. Taking charge of Heaven. Crowley at his side. They can make the Good guys truly Good. No one to question whether they belonged together. Happy ending.

Crowley’s nudge, of course, was Nina and Maggie telling him to goddamn say something. And I don’t think any of them realize it, but that had to be his conversation. If the two ladies had come over and talked to Aziraphale the same way (solo), he’d throw all his defenses back up and that would have been the end of it. If they’d talked to angel and demon together, well. These two are idiots. Aziraphale and Crowley would have refused to take the conversation seriously, talked circles around their guests, and left for their breakfast, laughing together over those humans and their ideas.

So for Crowley to get his nudge, he had to be alone when they visited, and for that to happen, Aziraphale had to go have his talk with the Metatron. Aziraphale had to get a perfect enough option to overcome his anxiety, and for that he needed his chat.

Now, am I saying that without the Metatron’s interference they never ever would have moved forward? Maybe. They’re complete idiots, your honor.

Maybe not, though. As I said, they just watched another angel and demon go off together. Would that be enough for Crowley to realize that, hey, actual communication sometimes has good results? Would that be close enough to a perfect ending to assuage Aziraphale’s fears?

I don’t know if we can say for sure. But I’ve been trying to play out that last scene in the bookshop differently to find where the path to the happy ending was, and I think this is the answer. Aziraphale needed to not go to the Metatron at all. They needed to be on their way before Nina and Maggie decided to visit. And then… somewhere in the talking and drinking that followed, one of them would have to take a risk.

And like, have you met these two? They’d be dooooooomed…

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #ineffable idiots #good omens meta #good omens 2 spoilers #crowley #aziraphale #aziraphale and crowley #good omens prime

[nipuni]

Time for an old school blog post, Hello!

Just various updates about life and shows and clothes and some photos! Adding a read more cut because I talk too much 😊

Happy equinox everyone!! The mild weather has been wonderful for daily park walks. We have been taking our meals outside as often as we can to make the most of it before summer scorches the land and all life. The longer days allow for a lot more wandering too but the imminent return of the heat is also making the longing to move up north worse by the day. We miss the choppy ocean and seaside cliffs 😭 We love the silence and the rain and the nippy sea breeze!! it's like being suspended in early spring for half the year and a rainy autumn the other half, Ideal if you don't mind humidity, but that's what wellies and flat caps are for. We have been looking for properties to rent to show up everyday so for now we lie in wait.

Speaking of nature, a few months ago we discovered a free app called Plantnet that you use to take and upload photos of plants, trees, flowers and it will identify them for you. You keep a log with their locations and can share them too to help contribute to each local biodiversity database. It feels like a pokedex for plants. There are many apps like this one to choose from too. It's been so fun learning what all these plants are called and memorizing them! I recommend it, is like a little educational side quest to take on while stretching your legs and getting some fresh air. This is not an ad I promise lmao I just think it's neat! kind of sad feeling the need to clarify that.

This weather is also making me want to start making outfit posts again! It's been so long since I made any!! my winter wardrobe is mostly long wool coats or capes and boots so the inspiration wasn't there but now I'm ready to pull out all my stuff back from under my bed storage and experiment again 👏 I've also been meaning to share some of Nicolas outfits for ages too so there is more variety, could be fun!

Speaking of clothes, lately I've grown more and more frustrated with how poorly most clothes fit me to the point where I'm considering learning how to make them from scratch. I usually have to take in the tops and hem the bottoms but most things I try on are just built weird even if I fix the size, or maybe I'm built weird! I think it may be both. Nicolas also said he would love to learn along with me so we will probably embark on that adventure soon. OH and on a short tangent, I got myself a sort of binder-like top that flattens the chest a bit and I'm loving it! I'm very flat already but what little bust I do have has always bothered me when I dress and I've found I feel a lot more comfortable in this type of top. I'm glad I tried it out so if you feel similarly you may want to give it a go too, see how it feels!

On the media side of things we have also been watching more of David Tennant's work. We are still very much in love with him to an embarrassing degree, you can probably tell if you follow me anywhere, my likes on twitter alone give me away alksjdf and Nicolas isn't any better! if he used social media his would look the same lmao.

Since my last report we have watched and absolutely LOVED "There She Goes" we already want to watch it again honestly. The family dynamics for all his characters are always so real and refreshing!! Their relationship with their wives especially are always so believable in every series we've seen, the comfort and camaraderie, the banter and just friendship! You can tell they enjoy each other's company, it feels true. I love it so much!!

We also watched "Inside man" which was..a very stressful mess but David was incredible as always, also very hot and very pitiful which is always great, and Stanley Tucci was on it! so that's also fun.

Then we rewatched season one of Good Omens and the first 4 seasons of Doctor Who, with all the extra content like the Confidentials, deleted scenes, video diaries and more, they are just so good!! our list of favourite episodes keeps growing, season four is incredible, we are loving all these seasons even more the second time around!! Now we are probably going to start watching either Classic Who or Torchwood, along with more of David's work. We were trying to pick what to watch during dinner the other day and Nicolas was like 'damn, David is not in this though, I miss him' and lmao same so now we just watch one show without him and one with him right after to cope 😂

OH we have also been doing more historical reenactment! Since the last one in the 20's we jumped back to Regency times. We have been putting our outfits together for a ball soon and hopefully another one in autumn in the UK 😊 1800 is the farthest back in time we've been yet so it's been fun doing research, finding pieces and learning the dances in class but also very hectic. I'll share more about this soon!

Then we also have a couple of 1900 events coming soon, so I'll be sharing more Edwardian looks as well, our favourite era!!

Anyway I think that's all for now, thanks for reading to whoever is doing so!! I know this is long and not a popular blogging format anymore but I enjoy it a lot, maybe some of you do too 🥰 I will reply to some messages soon, I'm so sorry I'm so bad at keeping up with those!! I've read them all and cherish every word 🥺 Thank you for supporting my art and shenanigans as always!! I hope you have a great week!!

#personal #nips photos #DW report #of sorts tho I should swap to DT report at this point lmao #I may need a blogging tag so let's just do #Nips blogs #that should suffice

[voiidlizrd]

“Just a Sign, Lord, Anything”

(Nightbringer! Simeon x GN! Reader)

───────────────

Disclaimer(s): religious imagery, mentions of God, Celestial War spoilers, longing Simeon, religious doubt, blasphemy(?), angst, lots of angst, hints of poly MC, mentions of Lilith, slight Nightbringer spoilers for lessons 10-12 (I believe)

(A/N): I was scrolling through Twitter when I saw an entry of Aziraphale’s diary from Good Omens and thought of Simeon with Demon MC in Nightbringer. I’ll put a picture of the entry at the end of the fic, but if I am hurting, I will share with the masses so I won’t be alone.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Simeon is an archangel of God, mighty and powerful, yet so gentle and warm, embracing all and protecting every soul to guide them to Fathers Holy Light. Simeon, the archangel, who felt his heart shatter when he was forced to battle his Brothers, especially Lucifer, the one who he loved the most. He wept for days after their fall, the halls of Heaven were so much more colder after they left. Micheal couldn’t even comfort him, no matter how hard he tried. Heaven was warm, still, but quiet after the War. But Simeon had to move on, he knew.

But then he had the visitation from Diavolo to join the student transfer program to unite the realms. His heart clenched, stomach twisting in knots as he looked down at the letter clutched in his hands, he was close to shaking. In the Devildom, there would be demons, and with the demons, there would be the Brothers, but no Lilith.

He was fearful, even more fearful since that day.

Simeon was scared to go, but he had to. A part of him wanted to see this unification project through. He wanted to see the Brothers again, to be able to talk to Asmodeus, to drink coffee with Lucifer, to try and convince Mammon to stray away from his little pranks on his poor big brother.

Oh to have those mornings with them again, but he had to move on from the past. They would not be the same since the fall, especially now that they are slowly adapting to the Devildom. Maybe he was being a bit hopeful; delusion? But he could only wonder and question; have they been well? Are they okay? Are the demons welcoming them? Is Diavolo taking caring of them? Where are they living? Where would he live? Would he be with them?

His mind raced and he couldn’t pick a single one to fix himself to, for now, all he could do was pack his bags and be off with Luke.

When he arrived, was met with the expected reluctance, the heavy tension still lingering in the air, and the stiff presence of Lucifer who hung around him, protectively guarding his brothers.

But what he wasn’t expecting was you.

“Hello, you must be Simeon, right? My name is MC, the demon that is watching over the brothers during their stay of the Devildom!” You smiled at him so warmly, a warmth that he would expect to see from a fellow angel, as you held out your hand for him to take.

He felt his heart catch his throat when he looked into your eyes, a glitter in them that made him feel oddly nostalgic. His heart pounded, his knees felt weak, his skin was tingly as he grasped your hand, shaking it firmly. It was an odd feeling, a feeling he couldn’t quite explain when he met your eyes. They were so inviting, comforting, something he did not expect to see from any demon, like looking into the eyes of an old love.

Simeon shook himself out of his strange moment of vulnerability, silently, his guard was up. You were a demon. He could smell it on you, could feel the aura of your magic pulsing around you, sending a shiver down your spine. With the feeling alone, he felt it could take a single snap of your fingers and all realms could crumble.

But those eyes spoke otherwise.

“Ah, it’s good to know that Lucifer and the others are being taken care of.” Simeon smiled gently to you, retracting his hand, the tingle of your touch on his palm.

“Psh, it ain’t like we need the help. But Diavolo insisted.” Mammon crossed his arms, unconsciously leaning close to your side.

Simeon noticed this.

He only smiled while he watched you interact with the brothers for days after he arrived. The way you comforted Asmodeus and immediately noticed something was wrong, even if the facade he put up was practically perfect. The way you could calm Satan down. The way you brightened Mammons day, bring a smile and confidence to Leviathan, know exactly when Beelzebub was hungry and have everything on you immediately, carry Belphegor whenever he was sleepy and find a place for him to nap, and most of all, you’d always take care of Lucifer. Bring him coffee, make him food and snacks, convince him to sleep at odd hours.

You were more than he expected. It made his heart flutter at these acts of kindness, to see you beam with pride whenever you did these acts with nothing to gain in return, to see you be the safe haven for the brothers when they are ostracized by the demons of the Devildom, even despite their status. You were the arms of heaven that they couldn’t reach anymore, you were the home they deserved, the love they needed, and he saw it.

Lucifer looked at you with such softness, even when his words would even feel like nails against the skin, even to Simeon.

Mammon was greedy, constantly wanting your attention and words of praise, melting into your touch and wanting nothing more than to hold you.

Leviathan was a bit confident whenever he spoke to you, being proud to speak little by little about his interests, finding his home in your arms much like his brother.

Asmodeus admitted to wanting to stare at you for hours, and there are days where he finds Asmodeus staring at his phone, looking at pictures of you and him together with a smile on his face and cheeks pink.

Satan is… A hard on for Simeon to read, but the only noticeable thing Simeon can see is the anger vanish as soon as you enter the room or come near him, leaning in close to you to melt into your touch.

Beelzebub shared his food with you always, making sure you take the first bite and watch you as you eat. Seeing you eat, he could tell, brought him joy knowing you enjoyed it as much as he did.

Belphegor was a demanding one, the youngest of the seven, the one who is spoiled the most aside from Mammon. He would always come to you and lay himself on you when you were sitting, or sit in your lap, promptly falling asleep on you happily.

Simeon noticed all of those, his heart clenching whenever he saw these little things. He wasn’t expecting to feel so much love inside the home, to see it for himself, to see that a demon is the one causing the House of Lamentations to feel so… Welcoming, so much like home.

And he wasn’t even going to start with Solomon, the human with hundreds of pacts and as powerful as you. The way he acted like a newlywed husband was clear in how he held you. It was even more strange to see the brothers get quickly jealous over Solomon, especially knowing you’d have to leave and go back to your home, where you live, with him.

The looks of admiration were even clear on Diavolo’s face! And even his butler!

It baffled Simeon.

It bugged him to no end. A demon like you had the whole Devildom wrapped around your finger. You could easily crush it under your thumb, bring the entire realm to its knees, yet you cradled it in your hands like it was home, feeling yourself only a resident living your life.

Everytime he saw this, everytime he saw you whenever you showed up to HOL, his heart fluttered and he barely knew how to speak, finding himself trapped in those eyes again, close to drowning in them again, submitting to the love that you emitted everywhere you went, so much love you wanted to give. He found himself envious, just like the brothers would be whenever Solomon showed off his relationship with you. Craving you. Desiring you.

It was wrong.

He knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t. It was wrong.

So he resisted you while being kind, promising himself that he wouldn’t fall into the arms of your warmth. He promised himself to Heaven, and Heaven alone, to his Father and Their love.

But then it was that day he found out that it would be more difficult than he anticipated.

Simeon and Luke were in the kitchen together, attempting to bake whatever they could to gather experience with Devildom’s strange ingredients. Simeon had his back turned for only a moment, failing to see Luke attempting to climb the counter to grab the flour that was on the top shelf, when he found himself tumbling backwards with the flour coming down as well. Simeon turned around to grab Luke when he heard the little Angel yelp out, when you suddenly appeared and grabbed Luke into your arms, the flour hitting your head and spraying all over you and onto the floor. Luke looked up at you horrified as you coughed and clutched your eyes close tightly, sputtering to get the bland, thick flour out of your mouth.

“Well… This was unexpected.” You coughed out.

“MC!?” Luke gaped at you, the look on his face was of pure guilt but also embarrassment with you holding him. “P-Put me down!… Please?”

He figured saying please was the least he could do to the person holding him and the one who saved him from having to suffer a huge bump on the back of his head, even if his savior was a demon. He plopped himself on the ground and looked about at the flour, flushing with embarrassment.

“Are you okay Luke?” You asked, wiping the flour off your face.

His face darkened with red and looked down, nodding silently, and then running off to grab something to clean up the flour.

That left you and Simeon alone.

His heart was already thumping hard as he looked at you. You were so beautiful even with flour all over you, that smile running across your face as you looked at him, that sheepish grin that set his heart ablaze.

“Sorry about that Simeon. You didn’t get any flour on you, did you?”

He shook his head. Heart trapped in his throat as he swallowed. He couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“That’s good! I actually came here to ask if you wanted to see the stars with me tonight before, uh, you know…” you gestured to the flour and chuckled a little. “But, do you wanna see the stars with me tonight? You don’t have to if you’re busy, I just wanted to know if you’d like to see the Devildom constellations with me. Belphegor is grounded after cursing Lucifer’s ties again.”

He couldn’t. This was dangerous, he can’t say yes to you. This feeling would only worsen. Saying yes would mean burying himself further into the possibility of giving into the temptation.

“Yes, I’d love to.”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

The stars were beautiful, especially reflected in the color of your eyes, lighting them up as you stared up at the glass of the observatory, the stars lighting up the dark room as the two of you laid out on the ground with a blanket beneath you to make the two of you comfortable.

The stars were so beautiful, but you were more than the stars themselves, you were greater than the light above and he believed it deep down, even if he were to try and deny it. He understood what the brothers saw when they looked at you, the feeling inside of them that swelled inside, so close to bursting whenever he was near you. It was so unbearable, but he couldn’t get enough. It was a sin to be as greedy as this. The guilt followed him whenever this feeling occurred, but the overwhelming love would cloud over it, making it easier to bear, just a little.

“And that one, it looks similar to the one back in the human realm. It’s called the Libra, I think. But I’m not exactly sure.”

“You know a lot about the human realm and their stars, but not of the Devildom’s?”

“Ahh yeah… Is it wrong to say I was more interested in the stars of the other realms than in the Devildom?” You gave him that sheepish grin again, a small bit of sweat going down your brow.

He could tell you were lying. But said nothing. The lie went straight over his head because the smile you wore shrouded any doubt or concern he had. And that was wrong for an Angel to do, wasn’t it?

“No, no… Not at all.”

Then the silence. It left him alone with you and his thoughts, the feeling of you nearby made him warm inside. The more you inched closer, the more it grew, a fire inside of him growing hotter and hotter, the craving of greed to have and to hold you beginning to form, but he beat those thoughts down. They wavered the moment your hands touched, just a little.

“I hope to get to know you more, Simeon.” You whispered, his name on your lips sounding oh so sweet, sweeter than any cake or pastry, oh so sickening.

“And I, too, MC.” Your name flowed off his tongue, as if he were exhaling it just like he breathed it, your very existence hanging off your name on his tongue, burying itself inside of his chest and filling him. He wanted nothing more than to speak your name over and over, to call onto you every second of the day, to try and quell the desire that bubbled inside of him, but at the same time, wanting nothing more than to let this feeling simmer inside of him. He never wanted a moment to get enough of you.

But it was wrong to put something above the Divine.

The time passed and you were asleep right beside him, head lulled to the side and close to his shoulder, the feeling of your hair tickling against his skin.

He stared up at the stars, the simmering of his desire and his guilt fulling growing inside of him like a tight knot only growing tighter and tighter.

The thoughts of craving your touch, of wanting to feel your lips pressed against his skin, his lips, his face. To feel nothing more than your back pressed against his chest while in the kitchen, baking sweets and sharing a moment of being domestic like you’d be with Solomon.

Father, I don’t ask You for much, it’s not my place to ask and Angels don’t pray.

As he stared up at the stars he couldn’t help but feel his lower lip tremble and fists clench when you shifted yourself closer to him unconsciously, nuzzling yourself further into him, a small smile on your face.

But if you could give me a hint. Just a little one. Anything really.

He unclenched his fists, chest so much heavier than it was previously, fingers twitching as your hand was so much closer to his, the warmth of your body radiating onto him as you cuddled into his side while he laid there stiffly.

Is this a test?

“Simeon, as the brothers attendant and yours, I’d like to offer my help anyway I can. You are welcome here as far as I’m concerned. Any issue you have, let me know.” That smile again… Oh that smile and those eyes, those imperfections that came with that only added to your complexion, that only added to you.

I’m sure I’m being foolish. You’re far too busy to waste Your valuable time with a lowly angel like me.

But is it?

“Thank you for taking care of the brothers while I was in my coma, Simeon… I cant thank you enough and I truly can’t thank you enough…” You brought him into a hug, the warmth of your body much like how you’re cuddling him. “Even though I don’t regret what I did, I’m glad you were around for them when I couldn’t.”

Is MC my apple?

I’ve said no to them so many times… Yet they keep coming back everytime…

“Please, MC, I don’t need you to tell me how to handle my… ‘problems’ that I might have with the brothers. I appreciate your help, but I don’t need a demon to tell me how to deal with my problems.”

He doesn’t mean that. He needs your help desperately. He needs to know how he can make himself more approachable to the brothers, more close to them as he was before.

“That’s just fine. If you ever need me, Ill always be around for you.”

When everything else is uncertain, they are there.

I don’t want to disappoint You, Father, I don’t want to fail You. Everyday we grow closer, and everyday…

He brings his hand close to yours.

Simeon turns his head, your head close to his, his forehead touched yours. He turned his body to where he mirrored your position, his forehead still touching yours and he exhaled lightly, a shaky breath leaving him, tears close to escaping his eyes as his lip trembled, holding your hand in his tightly, feeling the warmth as if it would be for but a fleeting moment, the guilt only worsening but he couldn’t bare to find himself pull away from your warmth. The rise and fall of your chest hypnotizing to him, you looking so peaceful, even when you were just a demon. Your lips were so close to his with how his forehead was pressed against yours, so delectable and looking so soft and sweet.

I don’t know if my resolve can last much longer…

Please, Father, just a sign. Anything.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Here is the picture I found on Twitter, I’m currently sobbing and will need to recover.

#x reader #obey me mc #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #fluff #obey me angst #obey me simeon #simeon x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x y/n #obey me poly #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me Beelzebub #obey me belphegor #ansgt

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Mutual request for this hc with Lilia and Riddle. Babytrap, Malleus + Leona being infertile. @yasminzys hope you like it!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, Infertility and talk about pregnancy/children, killing, kidnapping and cheating.

Lilia has lived a long time, seen a lot, so when you try again and again to conceive a baby and nothing works, he knows. He knows that there is a possibility that you or he, or both, are infertile, so Lilia shares his suspicions with you and together you go to the doctor to have these suspicions confirmed.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He raised Malleus and Silver, he had the full experience of being a father twice in a row and he wanted you to have the same experience, he wanted your love to be able to conceive a child, but this it is not possible because he is infertile. He is infertile and even for someone as old as he is, this news is still a surprise and not a good one.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Depending on the underlying cause of the problem, his infertility can be treated, so Lilia prefers to undergo treatment. For you and the thought of having a little bat with you. But… No matter how much time passes, your relationship begins to deteriorate with nothing being able to restore that beautiful feeling. And he knows that it doesn't matter if he brings you flowers or if he brings you chocolates, you won't feel what you felt before. A dream was stolen from you and all he can do is be sorry.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Which doesn't mean he can understand how you had the courage to send letters to another man while all this time you've been dodging his kisses and hugs. He has seen a lot of betrayal in his long life, especially allies betraying each other in war, perhaps even he was betrayed once, but without a doubt your betrayal is the only one that was able to pierce his heart so deeply.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Your poor lover? Dead. Your destiny? A cabin in an enchanted forest to never let you get away. And his heart? Trying to patch himself up as he hugs your struggling figure. Adultery once was punishable with death so you're very lucky that he loves you very much.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Honestly, I believe that Riddle doesn't really want to be a father, not while his mother's words and actions are still so present in his mind and haunt him often. If he tried to get you pregnant before it was only because, once again, he decided to listen to her and because he realized that you wanted it too so he didn't want to deny you the experience.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ 'Eventually,' he tells himself after all the times you have sex. 'it will eventually work out.'

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ But no matter how hard you try, it doesn't work. The child you want so much is never conceived, so the only plausible explanation is the one most terrible for you; one of you is infertile. Riddle is quick to assuage your fears and offer comfort as you go to the doctor to share your concerns. Tests are done, the results announced as an omen of death.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Riddle is the infertile one, the cause of your deep sadness and the destroyer of your dreams of having a family. He can see it all in your eyes as tears fall from them and you force yourself to tell him it's okay. He knows what a lie looks like, he knows because living with his mother taught him to lie. And you're doing it now and he can't blame you.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ If a treatment option is viable, he wants to try it. If there is nothing that can be done then he will discuss with you the option of adopting a child. Riddle closes his eyes to every letter you write, to every correspondence exchanged, he hopes that his words and actions reach your heart and that you don't love him less for it since it's something he has no control over, nonetheless, your love waned. And there's another man on your mind now. Another man he chases away.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He's not someone who gets his own hands dirty, but you force him to. You forces him to kill the other man and he forces you to watch every single thing he does. And then he takes you back home because you're a happy family and family stays together whether you want it or not.

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #twst #twst lilia #twst lilia vanrouge #twst riddle #twst riddle rosehearts #yandere lilia #yandere lilia vanrouge #yandere riddle #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere x reader #tw yandere #riddle x yuu #riddle x mc #riddle x reader #lilia x mc #lilia x yuu #lilia x reader

[ofallthingsnasty]

Bill gives off “will fuck you minutes before you have to go meet up your friends so he can get out of it AND have you embarrassed” energy so I’ll love it if you can write that scenario 👉👈

Nothing but facts here 🤭💕 He's such a smarmy asshole haha @flameshadowwolf 😘

fic referenced - please give it a read before you jump into this one, you'll probably need the context.

tags: yandere, heavy dubcon, Bill being condescending as always, breeding mentioned, talk of future knotting, past noncon + forced impregnation + forced marriage, chubby reader, f!reader, werewolf/human, minors dni word count: 3k

You haven’t done your makeup in forever. It’s been at least two months, you think, as you try to remember which of the colors in your little eyeshadow palette is the best for a monochrome look. You don’t really have the time to duke it out with a more complex style right now, especially with your rusty skills - there is barely an hour left until you're supposed to meet Ellie, car ride not included. Your mind sings at the prospect of a quiet evening, with friendly chatter and good food - and you not having to do anything. No needy toddler, no sticky little hands and pouty mouth to rob you of every last ounce of patience and energy, just adults-only conversations and friendly faces. Ellie and her husband Francis are the only members of the pack that are making an effort to include you and you like them all the better for it. You buff out the eyeshadow a little closer to your brows while you try to keep your bitterness down.

That fateful night three years ago had been your D-Day, and everything that followed was just punch after punch to your face - including being shunned by the very community that you had unwillingly become a part of. Of course, the whole pack knows what happened. Three years might have passed, but they still stick their necks together and whisper about it as though it all happened yesterday, avoiding your presence like you’re some bad omen, the hangman’s bride herself. Only Hugh and the Evett couple are cordial, the rest act as though you’re the black sheep of the family. It’s a small relief but at least they treat your daughter fairly well. It might change once her peers reach a mature enough age to be included in the gossip but for now your little toddler girl doesn’t have to play alone on the playgrounds and is invited to birthday parties only her father can take her to.

You rummage through your little makeup bag, searching for your brow powder. It’s probably too old to use safely, but you don’t care as you smudge it into the hairs. It’s not like you have the time to buy a new one.

Out of the whole pack, only your life is ruled by some archaic tradition. You had asked Ellie once about her and Francis and when she answered that they were high school sweethearts, you had quickly ducked into your coffee, ashamed of your own fate. 

Of course, she knows. You’re close enough in age - she’s a few years younger and still bright-faced, probably taking a giant heap of pity in your circumstances. It doesn’t matter to you, you’re just glad that someone who knows about this whole supernatural business is friendly with you - your old, blissfully unaware friends have long since grown tired of your bitter rants about your husband, not understanding why you’re still with him.

Oh, if only they knew. Their not-so-subtle nudges to get you to go to therapy (or to ditch Bill) get nothing but a grim laugh out of you now. No therapist could get you out of this mess, no stupid self-help book could give you the courage (with a sparkle and fire emoji, of course) to just leave. Just leave. God, it’s so stupid it makes you grimace.

Your life simply isn't your own anymore - right down to your name. Now you're just Mrs. Timmons, with a small golden band and his goddamn scent all over you (marking you as his possession). He had dragged you to the altar kicking and screaming, breaking plates and ripping up that gaudy number he had proposed as your wedding dress, but in the end, he had succeeded.

You had threatened to leave once, when Claire had been so very little, to pack her up and go - to the other side of the country, out of the country, across continents - just to get away from him. It had all been hot air, said in a dark moment of despair, of fear.

The solemn truth is that there is no way out of this. No matter how much you screech and fight - you’re not up against a regular man. Behind that grubby smile and dark eyes lies a creature that can track you down with deadly precision and has claimed you as its own, until the day it dies.

It sure is easy to forget when he throws his dirty shoes down onto the couch table or when he smokes when Claire is in the room, when he doesn’t do shit around the house and you get to stew in your anger, ruminate on the abysmal hand fate had dealt you. Then he’s just a regular piece of shit, just another good-for-nothing husband you get to nag and scream at and fume around. But when he fucks you - that’s when he’s back to the snarling beast he had been in that shed. The way he holds you down, even as a mere man, his grip like iron, his eyes feral and wide - even thinking about it makes you shudder.

It doesn’t matter right now, you think. You’ll be safe from his wandering hands and salacious comments in a matter of minutes, able to be yourself and not the always-scowling fury you have been turned into.

Just a swipe of mascara and your purse- 

A soft knock on the door frame interrupts you.

The sound of Bill’s heavy footsteps save you the glance over your shoulder to confirm it’s really him. “Wow, look at you”, he whistles, a freshly lit cigarette in his right hand. “Did I forget something? Date night? Our wedding day? My birthday?”

He laughs at his own joke as he takes a drag and you can already feel the annoyance starting to boil in your stomach. “I kid, I kid. You’re gonna meet with the Everett girl tonight, right? Girl’s night, eh?”

 “Yeah. Francis will join us later, though”, you say, clipped, brushing your mascara wand over the lower lashes of your left eye.

  “That so?”, you can hear him sucking in another lungful, sounding almost pensive. “Sounds awfully nice, princess.” You hum, finally done with your look. “I did invite you to come. If you remember.” A husky laugh behind you makes your brows furrow. “Jesus, woman, what did I do to you now?” You bite your tongue. Oh, you know. You just forcefully impregnated me three years ago and maybe I still haven’t worked through that. No biggie, though. “Be nice to your old man, yeah?”

He takes the cigarette into his left hand and presses a kiss to your temple, then drags his lips down to your ear. His stubble scratches the thin skin that is stretched over the cartilage of your helix and you can’t suppress the shudder. The right hand that lands on your shoulder is heavy and warm as it rubs and presses the fat over the joint, thoughtful but firm. “I have been nothing but kind, haven’t I? If you had ended up with that little freak, you wouldn’t have seen the sun ever again.” Crinkling, dark eyes meet yours in the mirror. 

Evan. You still think about him sometimes, but he moved just shortly after you started showing, too distraught that it had been Bill's kid and not his. You'd pity him if he hadn't done the unthinkable to you, just like Bill did.

“You do know that, don’t you?” Despite yourself, you nod - suddenly hot and cold at the same time. “I keep you fed, I keep a roof over your head, I let you run free, I let you tear up my shit when you’re mad, I let you go to your uppity little bitch you like so much- I think I’m doing way more than necessary, darling.” He mouths at your ear again, suddenly licking and biting the shell, only stopping when you visibly cringe. “I even think I deserve a little something for that, hm? And if it’s not gratitude, it might just be something else.”

He presses out the cigarette before you can even answer, right on top of your eyeshadow palette. Rough hands glide over the nape of your neck, down to your shoulders and settle right underneath your tits where he pushes them up and catches your eyes in the mirror again. “Just look at you, baby. I wish I could ruin all that makeup with my cum but we can’t have you be late for your little wine dinner, hm?” You see your own face twist in shock at his crude words and he watches in amusement, hands already working the soft flesh of your chest. He pinches and prods through the sturdy fabric that cups your tits, rubbing the material between his fingers to appraise it. “Aw, you’re wearing only a t-shirt bra today, aren’t you? Not my favorite lace number?”, he says and squeezes over your clothed nipples roughly, making you yelp in pain. “Or maybe I should be glad you aren’t. Else I’d think you’re dressing up for the Everett boy.” “But you’d never do that, would you?”, his tone drips with something dark. “You’d never betray me, hm?” Your breath stutters. It’s not a question. It’s a threat. “Why, I-”, you gasp, the words enough to shake you out of your stupor. “Why would you think that?”

“Dunno, babe”, he almost croons. “Just wanted to put it out there. In case you got into your little head again.” His hands wander down to your stomach and grab your fat roughly, a deep growl ending the conversation. He buries his fingers deep into you, so deep it stings and you subconsciously stretch upwards, granting him easier access to your neck. He promptly uses it to nip the skin of your pulse point.

“Soft as ever. Makes me want to bite and devour you whole”, Bill laughs. “But I’ll settle for putting another baby in you.” The nails digging through the cotton of your shirt turn sharp and long - he chuckles as you yelp, as you try to wiggle out of the chair in front of your vanity. “Too late, honeypie.” The man who stares back at you through the mirror is no longer a man - he is a wolf again, the same one that sounded the bell for the end of the life you once knew. “Don’t give me those pitiful eyes. Where’s all that fire, huh?”, he snickers, grotesque notes strung together by a deeper voice, by bigger lungs. “Your snippy little attitude. You do know I love to fuck it out of you, again and again.” Your head is pushed down into the wood and it sends your mascara and brushes flying to the floor. He simply drags your face over the vanity until the crown of your head touches the cool glass of the mirror, your legs slowly rising with the stretch. 

You have a hunch of what will follow. “Ass up, sweetheart”, he bites out and kicks the chair underneath you to the side with so much force you can hear it splinter. You’re left to stand on shaky legs, the cartilage of your nose pressed into the furniture. “Good girl.”

You only whimper in response, too weak to struggle against him, even as his hands leave your head.

He shows little regard for your clothes, as little as he had for his in the moment he turned - sharp claws dig into your nicest pair of jeans with little care, thick hands pull them down by force - over your belly, then over your ass. They're left just above your knees as he targets the next layer, a simple pair of cotton briefs. He slices through them and groans at the sight of you - fully exposed, bent over, vulnerable and oh-so-soft.

 "The baby did you good, sweetheart", he laughs and spanks your ass so hard it echoes through the room. "Made you even better. Maybe another one will make that ass even fatter."

  You're mortified at his crude words - but any indignant squawk of protest gets stuck in your throat as he presses his whole muzzle into your cunt.

He licks and pushes and sucks - eats you out so messily that his spit drips down your thighs and you can't contain your voice any longer.

You're rewarded with a chuckle and even more fervor. 

It's too much and yet not enough - his tongue only brushes your clit but he fucks your hole with it so well it makes your legs shake. You don't even register the way his claws dig into your ass, the pain barely noticeable over the mess he's making in between your thighs.

It’s not enough to make you cum but you feel yourself loosening up, growing pliant under his touch. Maybe he can feel it too because just a few precious minutes later he stops, licking his maw loudly. “Could eat you out all day, princess”, he chuckles behind you. “But you got a little girl’s night to go to, don’t you?” You manage nothing but a teary-eyed nod, throwing him a look over your shoulder, that terrifying creature staring right back at you, the man within it clearly getting drunk with the power he has over you when he is like this. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick.” He pushes himself into you slowly, but firmly - his saliva mixed with your own arousal making the most obscene squelch. It’s almost a relief to feel him in you after he fucked you on his tongue and you close your eyes, savoring the feeling of him working you open.

“You take me so well-”, he grits out and you moan in response. You should be ashamed of how much you long for his cock, how the years have made you compliant, even needy for him, even though you’re thoroughly terrified of him - but you can’t find it in you to care right now. The shame will come later, when you’re alone with your thoughts again but for now you just want to him to fuck you so well you’ll forget about everything. He starts out slow but it doesn’t last long - it never does. Just a few thrusts in and he’s found a rather harsh pace that has him fist the neck of your blouse to steady himself, claws puncturing the fabric. “God, I just wanna knot you, sweetheart”, he groans and you believe every word of it. “Bet you want it too- Always such a slut for my knot-” You clench around him both in arousal and shock - taking Bill’s knot is such a messy experience, one that would make you late for sure, with everyone able to smell just why you’re an hour behind schedule. “Ah, tomorrow- I’ll fucking knot you tomorrow.”

Your body is dragged over the wood with every thrust, the crown of your head bumps into the mirror every time he bottoms out - you feel like nothing more than toy with the way you’re rattled around. He seems a little extra desperate, probably trying to empty himself into you as fast as possible.

“Right now I’m- I’m- gonna make you stink with my scent, gonna mark you so that they all know how well I fuck you.” How embarrassing for you. Of course Francis will immediately smell it the moment he walks into the door and you’ll have to duck your head behind your wine glass - wolf that he is, claims like this won’t go unnoticed. “So you can’t run away from me-”, he gasps, out of breath with effort. “And no one can take you, either-” Even through your fucked-out haze, something clicks. He’s insecure. That’s why he’s in this form, why he’s so intent on filling you up before you sit yourself down with friends. Why he just won’t come with you eludes you - but that is Bill, ever so possessive, ever so puzzling.

You’d laugh at him if you weren’t currently getting mounted by a two meter tall humanoid monster, if you weren’t so literally fucked right now.  A groan pulls your attention back to the creature you call your husband. “Oh fuck, babe-”, Bill moans behind you, his pace getting even faster. It grates your insides, your body trying to keep you lubricated as he pounds you. Spittle flies through sharp teeth and lands on your ass as he unabashedly lets his maw hang open, too blissed out to care.

“I’m gonna cum, oh shit- Shit-”, he says and loses himself in a string of curses, trying to fuck you as you deeply as he can, rutting into you with so much force you’re scared the mirror is going to break off the vanity. “Fucking take it-”

The snarl he lets out isn’t human anymore, as are the claws slicing into your scalp, the sudden grip keeping you in place. He shudders violently as he pumps you full of his load, hot and wet. The feeling is enough to wring a throaty moan out of you - not enough to make you cum, but enough to make your legs shake and clench around him. “Damn…” Bill wheezes into the silence that follows, hands still iron on your skin. You slump into the wood beneath you, sweat-slicked and high-strung. He laughs as he hears the thump of your forehead against the vanity. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re gonna make me go before my time with that pussy.” You don’t answer, already irritated with him again. “Well-”, he coughs and takes his hands off you, sounding much more composed. “Looks like you need to start over with your little look.” His words make you gasp and paw at your face, the sticky smudge of mascara palpable on your cheeks. You don’t need to turn your head up to the mirror to tell that you’re back to square one, that you’ll be late, with a dripping cunt and hastily scrawled on makeup. Your arousal is gone in an instant, replaced by hot rage burning its way through your stomach for good. A pat on the head and a content sigh behind you make it boil over, make you clench so hard you actually push him out of you. It’s laughed away, either mistaken for the wrong emotion or simply ignored. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, your old man will make it up to you tomorrow.”

#OC: Bill #yandere teratophilia #werewolf x reader #terato #monster x reader #yandere x reader #capture kill #also if you read this: the little toddler has a name. it's claire. and she's with grandma rn 😭💕

[foolishlovers]

FAKE DATING FIC RECS: Below you can find a list of Good Omens fics in which Crowley and Aziraphale are fake dating each other. [AUs and non-AUs included]

[Requested by @waitingtobebroken. You can request more fic recs here.]

Tell Your Plants I Love Them by JustJReally (T, 3k) Trying to get over Crowley by going on a date with someone else, Aziraphale reflected, was not a good plan. Agreeing to go on a date with Gabriel, of all people, was an even worse plan.   In which Aziraphale is rescued from a terrible date by a knight in shining sunglasses.

My Memory With You by jessikast (T, 4k) “Does anyone there look familiar? I am going to kill Adam, he’s done this on purpose!” Crowley hissed. Aziraphale frowned. “Well, Adam of course. And-“ “Nanny Ashtoreth?” came a disbelieving – and American – voice. “Is that you?” *** Adam brings his boyfriend, Warlock, home for the holiday. Adam figures out that Warlock's nanny and gardner may, in fact, be a certain demon and angel of his acquaintance. Adam has a very, very good idea. In which Aziraphale and Crowley are required to pull on some old disguises at short notice, Warlock is delighted to see his old caretakers again, and Adam's going to pay for this later but right now it's hilarious.

when you take me by the hand by summerofspock, wargoddess9 (E, 9k) Crowley's got a plan for managing his rekindled friendship with Aziraphale. It all goes to hell when he opens his big mouth. ** “I have a rather large favor to ask.”   When he is silent for too long, Aziraphale prompts, “And what is it?”   “So, my cheer captain was going to ask me out and I panicked and said I was dating someone and when they asked who it was I may or may not have implied it was…you.”

You, Soft and Only by thehoyden (E, 9k) He hadn’t expected a sudden lapful of angel. “Very sorry about this,” Aziraphale said, and kissed him.

Side Mission by KannaOphelia (T, 11k) Some time after Warlock's ninth birthday, Aziraphale and Crowley have realised they made a mistake, and tracked the real Antichrist down to Tadfield. Two years to save the world is more than enough, right? Except everyone keeps assuming they are a married couple, and it's almost too much for a hopelessly in love demon to bear. Especially when Aziraphale suggests they might as well go along with it.

be mine tonight (be mine forever) by artenon (T, 11k) Aziraphale knows he’s a solitary person. He knows Crowley may very well be his only true friend. He doesn’t mind this. He does, however, very much mind learning that his coworkers have a betting pool on whether he’ll be coming alone to the department holiday party next week. He especially minds when he learns that the reason there is a betting pool in the first place is because their intern, young Newton Pulsifer, is the only one naïve enough to believe Aziraphale might have a date. ----- In retaliation to a bet made against him, Aziraphale asks Crowley to be his date to the office holiday party. Certainly there are no flaws to be found in this plan. Certainly the secret love Aziraphale has been harboring for Crowley for the past several years won't be an issue. Certainly not.

The Arrangement by TawnyOwl95 (E, 19k) Aziraphale and Crowley are set up on a blind date as a joke by their respective housemates. They decide to get their own back and call everybody's bluff by gasp fake dating!

Talk About It by hope_in_the_dark (T, 20k) Aziraphale and Crowley have been best friends for sixteen years. Crowley's been in love with Aziraphale for almost that long. When Aziraphale tells his family that he'll be bringing his boyfriend to his step-brother's wedding, things get a bit complicated. A Fake Dating AU.

Like Best Friends Do by LittleLynn (E, 21k) As usual, Crowley had decided to open his mouth before thinking about what exactly it was that he was about to let spill forth from it. As a result of this, unsurprisingly, he was now in a spot of hot water. Boiling water. Possibly water so hot that it had gone ahead and become some kind of pyroclastic steam. At least Aziraphale could usually be relied upon to take pity on him. This was a big ask though, even by Crowley's please-let-me-keep-empty-aerosol-cans-in-your-cellar-it's-nothing-illegal-I-swear standards. This was, without a doubt, a bigger ask than the aerosol cans.

muddle through somehow by curtaincall (T, 27k) Aziraphale Fell runs a successful food blog, Celestial Comestibles, where he shares mouthwatering recipes and heartwarming stories about his happy domestic life in a cottage with his husband and son. As promotion for his upcoming cookbook, his publishers run a contest: one lucky winner will get to spend Christmas with Aziraphale and his family. What the publishers don't know is that the real Aziraphale Fell is a single city-dweller. And if he wants to keep up his happily married persona, he'll have to acquire a cottage, husband, and son before Christmas. As it happens, his friend and neighbor Anthony Crowley has his nephew staying with him for the holidays. One fake marriage proposal later, and everything seems tickety-boo--as long as Aziraphale can keep from developing inconveniently real feelings for his pretend husband…

Faking It by bisasterdi (E, 28k) In the immediate aftermath of the Nope-Let's-Notpocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale tentatively begin to move on, hoping Heaven and Hell will leave them alone in the wake of both of their failed trials. Of course, nothing could possibly be that simple. It isn't that Gabriel or Beelzebub have actually figured out how the trials were subverted…but boy, do they THINK they have it figured out. Thankfully, it won't take much to keep them in the dark. (Crowley and Aziraphale just have to spend eternity together, pretending to be in love with each other. All Crowley needs to do is make sure Aziraphale never finds out that everything he's saying and doing is true.)

dearly departed by attheborder (T, 29k) Finally, Aziraphale spoke. “You mean to say— you got us married?” “Just as a precaution, I never really thought I’d end up discorporated again, it’d been ages, you just don’t get stampedes or assassinations like you used to —” “You got us married, and you didn’t tell me?” *** Crowley gets inconveniently discorporated. And it’s not like it’s ever been easy to get a new body, but this time around, things really aren’t looking good. His new innuendo-obsessed lust-demon of a coworker honestly isn’t helping things. Meanwhile, Aziraphale has a dead body to contend with, and an occult mortician & his very normal daughter to fend off. What lengths will he go to in order to get Crowley back to Earth?

make it with you by NaroMoreau (E, 31k) PAID RESEARCH OPPORTUNITY: A romantic couples study!! ------ Aziraphale and Crowley are broke roommates who are struggling to keep up with rent and a harsh landlord. After Crowley loses his job and Aziraphale's bookshop hasn't managed to make enough profit, they'll resort to anything to save what they love, and when they come across with the idea of a paid study for couples… Because some ideas are good until they aren't.

The Small Ad by SylWritesStuff, ladydragona (E, 32k) WORK WANTED: Partner For Hire. Tall, lanky ginger of arguable gender available to be your significant other to keep pesky relatives, nosy coworkers, or well-meaning friends at bay. Able to be as annoying or as polite as you like. Causing a fight over Christmas dinner with your odd, bigoted uncle/aunt/cousin will require an extra £200 up front. £50 for the first hour, negotiable otherwise. Ciao.   It isn't the sort of advertisement Aziraphale usually paid any attention to, but desperate times do indeed call for desperate measures.

In The Shadows Of Our Past, A Flicker by WaitingToBeBroken (E, 36k)

One went to Aziraphale's bookshop to exchange secrets, buy information or simply to use as a safe haven from the powers that be.

One did not go there looking for a partner for a seemingly-innocent mission to a tropical island, stalking a perfectly normal couple. Where unfortunately they would have to pretend they were married. As if that would have stopped Crowley, anyway.

Throw in their mysterious and complicated past, danger lurking from where they are least expecting and Crowley's very naked, very tattooed body that suddenly seems to be everywhere, and you might find them in a situation they are too ineffable to escape.

Or, my entry for the Good AUmens fest for the Fake Marriage prompt, with a hearty dash of Spies subplot.

Green Things Are Flowers Too by summerofspock (E, 60k) “Oh yes,” Crowley said breezily. “This is my husband, Francis. He’s a gardener by trade. We were hoping you might have an opening. An estate such as this.” Aziraphale gaped from where he stood on the stoop, feeling his heart speed up. Husband? Francis? Gardener? He’d never agreed to any of this! ** In which Aziraphale and Crowley pretend to be married while they stay at the Dowlings as Nanny and Francis.

and now all of my garden is grown in lavender by ilikeblue (E, 70k, WIP) Popular queer romance author, A.Z. Fell, has been lying about having a husband and a happy marriage for years. Longing to escape a string of failed relationships and looking for a fresh start, Aziraphale moves into the cottage left to him by his Great Aunt Agnes. When a TV adaptation of one of his books leads to sudden popularity and throws him into the limelight, his fans (and the press) are eager to catch a glimpse of Aziraphale's own mysterious leading man. Unfortunately, he still has to cast someone for that role. Enter the handsome gardener… Under Crowley's meticulous care the cottage's neglected garden slowly comes back to life, and Aziraphale finds himself writing the most important love story he'll ever write: his own

on the same page by Chekhov (E, 117k) Aziraphale Z. Fell is a rising star of the spiritual literary genre - the next Eat Pray Love guy - and his version of Chicken Soup For the Christian Soul is flying off the shelves. It's not that he's not grateful, but it's one thing to enjoy a career in writing and another completely to be pigeonholed into a specific genre, so much so that you are almost forbidden from writing anything else. So yes, maybe he has a bit of a secret. An outlet for his less… appropriate urges. And yes, if his typical readership got word of the sort of paragraphs he could put out on a particularly inspired night, they might suffer some form of heart attack typical for their age. But all of that is well hidden, and there is absolutely no way anyone would ever find out about his Arrangement with A.J. Crowley - the most debaucherous romantic fiction author of the decade. That is… until they have to pretend to be married to each other.

The Curve of Old Bones by Jenanigans1207 (E, 201k) Aziraphale watches as Crowley’s smile grows, sharpens and turns distinctively dastardly. And even though Aziraphale knows what he’s in store for, he’s entirely unprepared for the words that slip out of Crowley’s mouth next. “Name’s Anthony Crowley, Aziraphale’s husband.” Aziraphale is eternally grateful that he wasn’t taking a sip of his tea at that exact moment for he would’ve surely choked on it. -- When Crowley claims to be Aziraphale's husband to ruin what he assumes is a date, he doesn't think anything of it. But a day later it comes back to bite him in the ass when Crowley finds out that the date in question is, in fact, his new boss, who is looking to hire Aziraphale and hoping that Crowley, his husband, will put in a good word for them. Now Crowley is caught in a tight spot: either admit to his new boss that he was lying, or convince Aziraphale, his sort-of enemy, to pretend to be his husband to save face.

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