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Ship's Pride -- rated G, ~1250 words

Inspired by Tumblr! All honor to the original posters. Q'apla!

A Klingon captain, facing a lesser nemesis of his race -- tribble infestation -- discovers the elegant solution, and the only capitulation of his career.

"These creatures… repose more than any I have ever seen.”

“Do you question their value? Have you found a tribble in the medkits lately?”

“No, sir, only – I find it unusual that you should allow her to repose across your lap.”

“It is oddly calming. It approximates a state of meditation, like a less strenuous form of mok’bara.”

“She is making a strange noise.”

“That is part of the calming effect. It is generated by rubbing behind the ears, thusly. Which is also calming.”

Read on AO3

#star trek #cats #klingons #y'all this is utterly charming #fic rec

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I saw (this post) and HAD to draw Aziraphale ✨️

#Omg perfect #Good omens #Good omens fanart

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a stud in black leather on a black motorcycle just revved their engine at me and thank god I tore my demonic uterus out ages ago because I think that would have finally knocked me up

#like to charge reblog to cast #living in hope over here

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vampires have been drinking human blood for centuries they don't give a fuck about guys on eight different antidepressants. they were sucking on asbestos factory workers

#vampires #hilarity #laugh rule

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My Gabriel hot take is that the reason he’s Like That in season one is because God designed him to be someone who is really passionate about, like, operating charcoal grills and experimenting with microbrewing, and he’s not getting appropriate enrichment in Heaven, which is leading to behavioral issues.

My ideal season 3 Gabriel plotline would be that he has chilled out into a friendly, weirdly well-adjusted guy whose deepest desire is to host barbecues. I also think he should have decided, apropos of nothing, that Aziraphale and Crowley are his best friends, with seemingly no understanding that Crowley holds a grudge and would immolate him at the first opportunity. He calls them frat bro names like “Big Z” and “Crow Man,” and wants to invite them over for board game and charcuterie nights and Beelzebub has to be like “babe they absolutely do NOT want to come over for board game and charcuterie nights.”

#good omens #gabriel #jimbriel #headcanon accepted

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The journey from “god was wrong to cast out Crowley” to “god was wrong to cast out anyone” to “god can’t be wrong or right because wrong and right don’t come from god, they come from us” to “we were wrong to just accept the Fall of our brethren without questioning or challenging it” to “we can make it all anew, make it right, together”

(to maybe what god wanted all along was for us to question and to challenge)(but that isn’t for us to know and it never will be)(to all we can do in the face of divine ineffability is define our own Purpose, who we are and what we value, and hold to it and to each other as tightly as we can)

#good omens #good omens meta #all of this #if nothing we do matters #then all that matters is what we do

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lil sketch of crowley because I kept thinking about it

#good omens #fan art #crowley

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One thing that really gets me about the opening with angel Crowley is that he's not just excited by how beautiful his stars are, or how fun the process of creation is, or how impressed he's made Aziraphale. He’s not in it for the glory or the aesthetics. He’s actually horrified by the idea that the universe will just be "fancy wallpaper" in the future, even though Aziraphale assures him that humans will "marvel" at his creations.

What Crowley loves about his stars is their potential. He is building, essentially, a nursery. Most of the universe's stars, he explains to Aziraphale, will come pre-aged--but his are just starting out! After they're given time to grow, who knows what could happen! Good or bad, black holes or new constellations—there are so many possible futures ahead of them, and Crowley can’t wait to see what happens.

And then Aziraphale tells him that he knows what will happen: those stars will never grow up. They will never shine or burn out or implode or become anything new. They’ll be destroyed before they get the chance.

"You can't kill kids."

“Whose side are you on?” “God’s, of course!” “Same God that wants me to whack the kids?”

"People die." "They do, don't they?"

“Great pustulant mangled bollocks to the Great blasted Plan!”

"Don't test them to destruction."

"It's always too late."

"Nothing lasts forever." "No, I don't suppose it does."

This fear has been chasing Crowley since before the beginning. It’s what caused his first doubts, put the first traces of gray in his wings. He’s been raging at the futility of watching beautiful, complex things be damned or destroyed for his entire existence, and that’s why he seems to the audience and to Aziraphale to be a mess of contradictions.

He loves to follow the trends of the times, but he clings to his classic car in an era of planned obsolescence for vehicles. He lives in an ultra-modern flat, but finds his greatest comfort in the unchanging security of aziraphale’s old shop. He hates the idea of killing children, but is willing to see a child die if it preserves the rest of the universe and foils the Great Plan. He “goes too fast,” but his most unique and notable power is that he’s learned to stop time.

Crowley hates predestination. He hates divine intervention and the removal of agency. Crowley, the architect of free will, is constantly torn between his love of change and choice and potential and his terror that everything will be destroyed by an unstoppable, incomprehensible higher power. That’s his driving conflict in the way that Aziraphale’s is learning to find his own path without following Heaven’s rules, and I am fascinated to see how it resolves.

#good omens #crowley #good omens meta #angel crowley

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anyway the actual point of fandom is to inspire each other. reading each other's fics and admiring each other's art and saying wow i love this and i feel something and i want to invoke this in other people, i want to write a sentence that feels like a meteor shower, i want to paint a kiss with such tenderness it makes you ache, i want to create something that someone else somewhere will see it and think oh, i need to do that too, right now. i am embracing being a corny cunt on main to say inspiring each other is one of the things humanity is best at and one of the things fandom is built for and i think that's beautiful

#fandom #fandom is my fandom

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this was a comment on one of my post from a recent live event. it was photos of joyful queer buckaroos celebrating together and proving love is real through creation, community, and a trot of love. most important I AM LITERALLY IN PHOTO AS A REAL FLESH AND BLOOD HUMAN

it got me thinking about how DEEP AND VICIOUS the irony poisoning of these early internet communities goes. the way buds like this cannot fathom someone just being a sincere person unrelated to their OWN old days of cynical posting. it is fascinating, and i will admit, sad too

despite a DECADE of work, countless live events, 350 tinglers written well before large language models were a thing, there are still people who cannot imagine someone like me could exist. it is a strange place to be. not just part of me, but my entire EXISTENCE is often gatekept

it is easy to say ‘well chuck your art IS strange’ but honestly i think it is more than that. magical realism is common. there are stories about dinosaurs and bigfeet and unicorns. this scoundrel reaction is about two unspoken things: my art is neurodivergent, and my art is queer

heres the thing: I WILL BE FINE. what concerns me is not an issue of MYSELF, it is a concern for the other young outsider buckaroos who see comments like this one and think ‘is that what they will say if i express MY unique way? will i be dehumanized like this at every turn?'

i will be honest, i cannot say that WONT happen, but i CAN say this: for as deep as this irony poisoning goes, it is slowly dying. the way i was treated at the start of my career is LIGHTYEARS DIFFERENT from the way i am treated now. there is a massive shift towards sincerity

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY. to young artists trotting up, the things that i am harassed over and doubted for and made fun of for are NOT tangental to what has made me successful, THEY ARE LITERALLY THE SAME THINGS THAT HAVE MADE ME SUCCESSFUL. YES I AM STRANGE, WHAT OF IT?

the things that you tuck away for fear of a review that says ‘there is a PROBLEM with this art because it has always been done another way’ THOSE ARE YOUR SUPERPOWERS. the gatekeepers want you to tuck those parts of yourself away because THEY TUCKED AWAY THOSE PART OF THEMSELVES

never forget that your unique way is PURE UNFILTERED 100 PERCENT ROCKET FUEL. it will stick out (maybe, if you are lucky, scoundrels will even say that someone like you could never actually be real), but sticking out isnt so bad when you are waving the flag of love.

in fact, when youre waving the flag of love, sticking out is pretty dang cool. what are flags for, after all? LOVE IS REAL BUCKAROOS. thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed this long post then please consider preordering BURY YOUR GAYS.

LETS TROT

#buckaroo lifestyle #chuck tingle #tingleverse #queer #actually autistic #love is real #I adore him actually

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#good omens #crowley #this crowley in particular #denying responsibility for it all #I am obsessed with him #it's never his fault #the pedestrian is in the street she knows the risk she's taking #someone hit me #I just hung around the wrong people #etc. #how much is true?

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What’s your favourite line from good omens?

The invisible and unbreakable one that joins Crowley and Aziraphale.

#good omens #neil gaiman #giving us treats

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Ceremony - rated M, ~ 725 words

Inspired by a bit of art by @mielpetite on their patre0n, which I'll link if it's generally released!

Read on AO3, if you prefer

“Do hold still, dear. One doesn’t want to stain the tablecloth.”

“You want me to. Ng. Hold still, stop… doing that.”

“Nantaimori is a celebration of both victory – which I think I can fairly say we have earned – and of beauty – of artfully prepared food, and of the human body. I am admiring the one before enjoying the other.”

“ ‘M’not – ah – human.” Crowley’s breath trembled with the control required to avoid disturbing the collation displayed on his torso. A morsel of salmon nigiri below the arc of each collarbone, the glistening deep coral of the fish echoing the touch of light on the springy thatch that spread across his chest; a single pressed mackerel oshizushi at his breastbone, the black-over-white of the nori-wrapped rice block like a bit of formal dress; colourful temari balls, topped with miniature collages of seaweed and egg and radish and arranged just below the dark knots of his nipples. A row of hosomaki, like Brighton Rock made of nori and rice, perched in file above the sharp projection of each hipbone, their centres little jewels of cucumber and tuna and plum.

Aziraphale’s hand rested on his thigh, fingertips a ghosting touch at the hollow of his groin.

‘You are wearing a human corporation, dear. Which I for one find particularly… edifying. Oh, my, who would have thought this would… affect you so."

“Edify you.”

“In good time, I’m sure. That’s it, just breathe yourself down. I think… hm, yes, an orderly progression is the best. It’s customary to use chopsticks for this presentation – the inlaid ones, I think – “ Crowley suppressed a startled twitch as the points of lacquered wood ohashi traced a twin path below his right collarbone. The slight weight of the nigiri lifted from his skin, leaving a faint moist spot that for moment nearly overwhelmed his senses, nerve endings rioting in his enforced repose.

“Ambrosial. Just the touch of a light shoyu, a particle of wasabi, enough to tantalize…  perhaps a sliver of ginger gari with the other. It’s like a bit of frosted glass. Oh, look at you. There’s only one bit of you that can move. A glorious sight.”

Crowley whined faintly as the blunt tip of the chopsticks grazed the corona of hair around his nipple, lifting away the first of the little temari sculptures.

“Almost too pretty to eat. But then, this is also a celebration of the brevity of beauty, the importance of the moment. And your beauty…” Another trace of the chopsticks; a struggle not to arch his back, to ask for more touch. “It endures. Through all your forms, in all the eras. I’m often given to contemplation of it.”

The single, formal briquet of oshi plucked from his breastbone. A short silence, broken by the soft hum of the angel’s enjoyment, a sound that drew a deep, low groan from Crowley in answer.

“Dear, you can stay the course. One isn't to rush. After everything else we’ve done…”

The sharp intake of breath as the chopsticks reached his belly, a seismic tremor that he barely suppressed.

“Oh, you’re doing so well… I know you’re longing to be touched. Patience. You’re so beautiful like this. It’s very distracting, but one is to focus on the moment – mm. The pickled plum. That little bit of fire from the wasabi radish – like you, sweet and fiery – do you know there is also a custom of discarding the chopsticks completely? A full appreciation of the perfectly imperfect body, the fleeting moment – “ Soft lips feathered the peak of Crowley’s hipbone, closed over the cucumber maki poised there. There was no help for it; his neck arched with a little strangled sob.

“Almost done, dear. You’re doing swimmingly. The last of the yellowtail – nearest the centre –” The brush of lips again, ruffling the coiling hairs that spread out from the base of his belly, so close.

“Superb. How are you doing, my love?”

Answer seemed impossible. Only breath, trembling down into  the depths of his corporation and out again, each a fleeting moment in time, each a prayer.

“So very lovely. Stay like that, my darling, exactly like that… You know the rule of the ceremony.” The brief gurgle of green tea into a dainty cup, the hum of appreciation as Aziraphale cleansed his palate. “There’s still something left here, something exquisite. And you’re not to move until the repast is complete.”

Comment on AO3

Tagging in the replies as usual! Let me know if you want to be added to the list or removed from it.

#good omens #good omens ficlet #saucy #food erotica #sushi #nantaimori #inspired by fanart #dom/sub #crowley is doing his best #body worship

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It's so weirdly underplayed in The Resurrectionist. That very brief shot of Aziraphale looking around, surprised more than pained, and then the voice over from his journal about how it was the last time he was to see Crowley for a long time -- and then we're back in the present day and moving along with the frivolity.

The scene in Hard Times landed so weirdly back when it aired, without any context. Why was Crowley so stiff? Why did they spark to anger so quickly? You could see the love in it, but what was missing was the reason for the urgency.

What was missing was the punishment of Crowley in Hell, unseen and unspoken, but it gives terrible meaning to the whole scene.

I've seen a lot of discussion about the missing third part of 1941, but I wonder if we'll see the missing third part of this, too. Could we stand it?

Crowley sure went from "our respective head offices don't actually care how things get done" and "nobody ever has to know" to "walls have ears" FAST after Edinburgh. And Aziraphale went from looking at Crowley with hearts in his eyes to "I've been FrAtErNiZiNg" just as quickly.

I'm more convinced than ever that Edinburgh was the first time Crowley ever actually got caught and punished for fucking around with Aziraphale/doing good deeds/whatever it was they yanked him back down to Hell for, and it scared the absolute shit out of both of them and changed the whole tone of their relationship after that.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #hard times #the resurrectionist

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no particular reason for these photos..

#michael sheen #oh good lord

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@voluptatiscausa's fics live in my head rent free, so i did a little scene from chapter 3 of a guarantee and not a promise

see the whole thang on ao3 here!

#yesssssss

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Instead of angry and depressed napping Crowley, hear me out: genuinely worried and understanding Crowley who is livid with the situation but as in love as he’s been for six thousand years stress cleaning the bookshop

#good omens #ineffable partners #aziraphale/crowley #crowley #shut up and take my money