#furfur rages

[furfurs-fotos]

Entering My Divorced Dad Era...

I can't believe @trans-darbie actually left me and kidnapped my kids! Just because I cheated on them by marrying somebody else! This is so unfair. Feminism has gone too far.

Darbie better not try to make me pay child support for my own children who I created then abandoned. That's a violation of my rights as a manfather! Too bad the biased judicial system only favours FEEEEEEMALES.

And no, I'm not going to visit them or care for them or anything. I'm a man. That's girl stuff. (Nevermind that I was the one pregnant with them. That was before I took the Red Pill.)

#furfur rages #furfur cries #furfur takes the red pill #good omens #demon furfur #furfur good omens #furfur #furfur licks #good omens furfur #ineffable #ineffable fandom #furfur speaks #elongated muskrat #andrew taint #parody #satire

[vidavalor]

The Blitz, Part 3 Theory: The clues that suggest what it might be about & how it's affected what's come after it

I rewatched 2.04/The Blitz, Part 2 last night and a moment stood out to me that made me think I have an idea of what might happen in the flashback we all seem to have collectively agreed is almost certainly in S3-- The Blitz, Part 3.

When Crowley & Aziraphale are in the magic shop and Glozier is there in the background, the camera jumps to a pretty significant reaction shot for Glozier when Aziraphale tells Crowley that he has a Derringer hidden in a hollowed-out book in the bookshop. I think everyone sees that bit as important-- it's a literal Chekhov's gun sitting out there for the future story, after all-- but I was thinking about why it matters that one of the Zombie Nazis overheard this when they're... ya know... zombies. Their methods of murder tend to be a little more direct, yeah? lol What do they need a gun for when they eat people to death? But then it hit me why it will matter that Glozier heard this... it's not about the Zombie Nazis, exactly. It's about Furfur.

When we leave Furfur in 1941, he's just been embarrassed in front of The Dark Council by Aziraphale, who has swapped out the picture of him and Crowley for a flyer for the Ladies of Camelot, right? They literally laugh in Furfur's face. Furfur's entire plot in 1941 is about how he's been stuck in processing for millennia and he's trying to get out of it-- about how he's jealous of Crowley and the few others who get to go to Earth. He's dealt slight after slight after slight during this night in 1941. He fails to get proof against Crowley, who doesn't even remember him. He gets shamed and embarrassed in front of the higher-ups and his peers. His fledging... whatever it is exactly lol... with Shax-- who is the closest thing he has to a friend-- is damaged as she's gone out on a limb for him and he hasn't delivered. Most terrible, he's sure he's never going to get out of his miserable eternity of grunt work. He's *very, very, very* unhappy and boxed into a corner, right? So what does Furfur want, now that he's stuck in Hell forever and all of it is laughing at him?

Revenge. He wants revenge.

In the short term, he also wants someone to scream at, so he goes back up to Earth and finds the Zombie Nazis, who are roaming around London eating people. They can't go very quickly so they haven't gotten far and aren't hard to find lol. Furfur knows it's not exactly their fault that he was tricked by the angel as, technically, they completed the tasks they were given, but he's furious and he needs to vent it, so he starts yelling that he's going to revoke their zombie-life-on-earth clauses. (Even *the Nazi zombies* get to be on Earth and Furfur does not? Yeah, he's not going to be able to handle that...)

The Zombie Nazis, understandably after seeing that video he showed them in Part 2, start freaking out because they don't want that whole fly fate for all of eternity and they don't know how to reach anyone beyond Furfur so they'll do anything to keep Furfur from taking out his humiliation on them. Upon hearing that this is all about how Aziraphale tricked Furfur and got him humiliated by Hell, the Zombie Nazis start desperately suggesting that it's not too late! They can help Furfur still get Crowley and Aziraphale! Even if Hell thinks Furfur is a joke and won't listen to him about the angel and demon being involved, they can still help Furfur get revenge!

They bring Furfur to outside the bookshop to find Crowley and Aziraphale because that's where the Zombie Nazis say they saw them together earlier & they know Aziraphale lives there. Furfur's in a rage because through a side window, he's observing Crowley and Aziraphale drinking wine together by candlelight in what is the "I know you'd come through for me" scene from Part 2-- and Aziraphale even has the photo Furfur took of them earlier in his hand. (Insert here more of the recurring gag about Harmony lip-reading as now he's also looking through the window and probably gets a line like "he is saying it again! 'banana fish go-RILL-ah...'").

So Furfur is in a fur-furious rage here and is ready to murder these two but... there's just one *slight* problem...

He's a demon.

He can't get into the bookshop.

Aziraphale would have to invite him in and he's certainly not going to after their meeting earlier. But! This is when Furfur and the Nazis realize that there is someone in their group who *can* get in the bookshop...

....our fave fascist, Fraulein Greta Klauschmidt.

As "Rose", Greta recruited Aziraphale-- entering his bookshop when she was a human, invited in by Aziraphale. She can still get into the bookshop. (It's also a parallel to Shax tricking Aziraphale into letting her into The Bentley in S2.)

Once Furfur and the Nazis realize this, the question then becomes: okay, so if Greta can get into the shop, how is she then going to kill Aziraphale and Crowley? (*Especially* Aziraphale, whom Furfur really, really, really loathes at this point lol.)

This is when we go back to the scene that triggered this meta, which is that this is when Glozier then volunteers the information he overheard in the magic shop-- that there's a Chekhov's gun in the bookshop.

The Derringer works as a weapon here to do that because, as Furfur himself pointed out during the magic show earlier, if Crowley had shot Aziraphale in the face, it wouldn't just be paperwork but it might not be possible for them to "put him back together again"-- indicating that there are some things that can happen to angels and demons that are irreversible and can effectively kill them, more or less-- and a gunshot to the head is one of them.

(I'm also realizing as I'm writing this that that Glozier's *ear* falling off in the magic shop is another nod to him having *heard* important information and so far, we've only seen half of what he heard pay off-- the time and location of Aziraphale's performance in the West End. We're still awaiting pay off of the gun bit.)

My bet is that Aziraphale's Derringer in a hollowed out book is something he actually *showed "Rose" like the cinnamon roll idiot that he is* lol... so once Glozier brings it up, Greta remembers and she knows what book it's in and exactly where it is in the shop.

So Furfur still cannot get in but Greta can get in... which means Greta is now the most powerful character here. If Furfur wants Aziraphale dead, Greta can make that happen... *if* they cut a deal. What kind of deal? Well, the only thing Greta is going to want that she thinks that Furfur could give her is to not be a zombie, right? To be alive again? Reverse the clause in the paperwork and give her her life back. Whether or not Furfur can actually do this (and I'm not sure if he can or not, really, but I'd wager probably not), Furfur tells Greta that he can and she and the other Nazis believe him.

The plan is that the four of them go to the bookshop, where Furfur activates a miracle blocker card for a few hours surrounding the shop in an effort to limit Crowley and Aziraphale's powers and give the Zombie Nazis the advantage. Once the miracle blocker is in place, Greta goes inside while Harmony and Glozier make noise outside, in an effort to separate Crowley and Aziraphale to make it easier to kill them by attempting to lure one of them outside. Greta is to kill the one that stays inside the bookshop while Harmony and Glozier are supposed to kill the one that goes outside. (This will not happen according to plan at all, whatsoever, but it does seem like the most likely plan these four characters could form where they all have a role in it.)

So because Greta is the only one who can get inside, she has go to into the bookshop and be the one who can kill, most likely in their mind, Aziraphale. She'll still be a staggering zombie when the extremely bright Furfur sends her in there to obtain and fire a gun at a pair of supernatural beings lol but she manages to sneak in the back door without Crowley and Aziraphale really hearing the breaking & entering... or whatever noises the other two are making outside... as Crowley and Aziraphale are a little busy gazing at one another.

It would actually be a really funny, very Good Omens-y gag IMHO, if Greta is colossally unsubtle in entering the other side of the shop from where Crowley & Aziraphale are and is banging into stuff while Harmony and Glozier keep coming up with more and more insane noises outside... but Crowley and Aziraphale are too busy making heart eyes at one another to care or do anything about it. A very "did you... hear that?"/"oh, must be the war, let's go back to gazing" type of attitude with a steadily increasing series of sounds that are harder and harder to dismiss but they are trying, ok? lol. (This would also parallel Aziraphale ignoring the demons outside for as long as he could during The Ball in S2, until the bookshop begins literally breaking around them.)

So while we watch scenes of Furfur and The Zombie Nazis Hatch A Plot, the relationship tension between Crowley & Aziraphale is building as much as the plot tension. They intercut Furfur & the Nazis scenes with Crowley & Aziraphale having quiet, romantic, candlelit glasses of wine after their very intense and illuminating evening together. Each time we go back to Crowley & Aziraphale... they seem to be getting increasingly cozier. They sit a little closer, they get a little looser around one another. Crowley's glasses might come off. We get the sense that this is all Going Somewhere and it's somewhere they've never let themselves go before but after the events of Blitz 1 & 2 tonight? It's becoming increasingly clear to them that they will. There's virtual certainty that if *nothing else happens* to these two tonight and they're just left alone for once, they're at least going to kiss and what we're watching is them slowly enjoying the path there and them enjoying silently knowing that they're going to.

At some point, we hop from the Nazis back over to Aziraphale asking Crowley if he'd like a little music... Aziraphale might even have something *modern* kicking around, he's excited to tell Crowley (like he might have been totally not at all fantasizing about this exact Crowley-dashing-in-his-suit-with-a-glass-of-wine-smoldering-in-the-bookshop scenario when he bought this record from Maggie's grandfather recently lol)... and he goes over to the gramophone to put it on and now we've got Crowley and Aziraphale with candlelight and wine and music and they're each just taking step after slow little step that slowly acknowledges the romance at play here. Aziraphale's record is probably Glenn Miller. We know he likes big band and The Bentley played him "Moonlight Serenade" in S2 and Glenn Miller also recorded "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square", so it's one record where "Moonlight" could play and then, eventually, so too could "Nightingale" without Aziraphale getting up and moving away from Crowley... and you better believe that when we get to "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" playing that Crowley and Aziraphale are a literal breath away from kissing.

It'd be completely perfect to them, right? Very romantic. They're there together, alone, they've survived the Nazis and Mrs. H and threats of Hell and have spent the night gazing at one another and now they're here and it's quiet and there's candlelight and it's the familiar, comforting bookshop that is home for both of them... the same place, ironically, that they will drink wine together and make eyes at one another *for decades* after this night-- without Aziraphale putting on The Song, of course-- and you know they will think about 1941 every. single. time. while never actually recreating it.

(It's also why, when they're both wasted in the bookshop in S1's "Eleven Years Ago", Crowley is rambling on about bananas and gorillas and bouillabaisse/fish stew-- ya know, "banana fish gorilla..."-- and they're both so drunk and thinking about how they're almost out of time... and so they're both thinking of 1941 and wind up making those hilarious kissy faces at one another because they both obviously still want to actually kiss some 80 years after the night they almost did. Crowley also calls Aziraphale "baby" in the middle of his ramble. He might have called Aziraphale that in 1941, when they weren't drunk and were on their way to kissing. He also might have just wanted to, so it turned up in "Eleven Years Later" and might come up again later on in the present of S3, whenever they inevitably get to finally have a decent, uninterrupted, not painful kiss.)

Back in 1941, as we flip between Furfur/The Nazis and our heroes, maybe Crowley's even gotten comfortable enough to lose the glasses (though he can leave them on if he still has the hat on when they go to kiss so that he can take the hat off like a gentleman to kiss Aziraphale *swoon* and actually that's how Aziraphale died everyone surprise twist he's been dead since 1941 an a ghost this whole time lol)... and there's romantic big band on the record player and there was magic in the air and angels were dining at the Ritz when a nightingale sang in Bahhhrrrrk. Leeeeee. Square... and they're *almost* there, right? They're basically kissing. There is no way for either of them to ever legitimately pretend that was not was going to happen (even if they will try in the future lol) as their lips were a millimeter away and both of them want it and just like this and it's been six thousand years of pining and so, of course, that is when...

...Greta zombie-crashes into the room with Aziraphale's once-hidden Derringer aimed at them.

(Aziraphale's probably furiously muttering "oh good Lord" under his breath with a very different tone than in 1793 lol. That is his attitude, at least, if not the dialogue.)

So then they have to try to protect one another right and it's mild chaos for a moment as like Crowley starts looking out the window at Furfur and the rest of the Zombie Nazi Trio (paralleling his demons-outside-the-bookshop paranoia in S2) and realizes they were the noise while Greta is all "pity you both must die" again with a little smirk and Aziraphale is trying to calm her down and reason with her while also subtly trying to get close enough to get the gun and she probably fires but she's a zombie so she misses lol and he's like glancing over for Crowley and Crowley seems to disappear for a moment while Aziraphale stalls Greta and just when we think where the hell did Crowley go?! Aziraphale is about to be shot in the face!...

...Greta is shot in the face instead.

By Crowley.

With The Bullet Catcher.

And the bullet that was in Aziraphale's teeth a couple of hours ago.

Crowley has not so much has blown the fluff off a dandelion since he arrived on Earth six thousand years ago but you interrupt his first kiss with the angel and you. are. dead, you Nazi bitch...

I don't have a theory as to what happens after this beyond that we already know that Furfur is in Requisitions in the present now so he's going places lol. Also worth mentioning that Crowley or Aziraphale (I'd lean towards Crowley) could get shot by Greta's wild aim when they are trying to protect one another but it would be more of a graze that one could write a hundred h/c fics over than anything worth actually worrying about lol. It could be something like Crowley gets nicked but goes down as dramatically as he does in the paintball scene in S1 and Aziraphale is horrified but also fighting for his own life so he winds up focused on Greta and neither of them see Crowley slip away to come back with The Bullet Catcher... something like that. I'm just pretty sure that the fact that there are really *two* Chekhov's guns in the bookshop and that Greta is the only 1941 antagonist who can get inside it maths out to Crowley-- shooting her with The Bullet Catcher.

I'm not sure what happens to Harmony and Glozier. Aziraphale says in S1 that he's never killed anything so he can't kill anyone here and while I'm fine with Crowley mowing down Nazis with every Chekhov's gun left in the plot lol, I don't know that that's what happened or if, honestly, the two of them and Furfur just see Greta die through the window and run off. Maybe Aziraphale miracles the Nazis to Siberia. Who knows. But the main gist of it, I think, is that Crowley kills Greta when the Zombie Nazis and Furfur try to exact revenge on Crowley & Aziraphale and, in doing so, interrupt what would have been their first kiss and it's while "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" is on in the background so that every time the song comes up in the future, it's a reference to this near-kiss in 1941, adding layers to scenes from Soho 1967 to the end of S1 to the end of S2, etc...

Kind of makes Crowley desperately kissing Aziraphale in the middle of the bookshop while a vengeful Heaven, this time, is trying to separate them, even more aldkjlkfjlewje, yeah?

I'd also like to just throw in here that it's actually possible that all of this is the same but they *did* kiss... that they were kissing when Greta burst in. Part of me really wants that to be the case. That maybe they did get to have this kiss, if only because even if only a tenth of what I've said above is anywhere close to right, it's still pretty romantic and it would be nice if they got to have that, especially then, even if it was ultimately interrupted. It's Soho 1967, though, that convinced me that they came *very* close but ultimately didn't (and honestly, the only way they don't in 1941 if they get that close is if they're interrupted and an armed Zombie Nazi crashing through the bookshop feels about right lol.) It's this bit from Aziraphale to me that says they almost kissed but didn't:

The picnic was likely Crowley's 1827 date in Edinburgh. The Gabriel statue was there for amusement but you know Crowley had a picnic set up nearby. (It's not that weird-- people used to picnic in graveyards in the 1800s & the only time Crowley & Aziraphale would be able to together would be under the cover of darkness.) Then, they ran into Elspeth and the night took a turn. (Elspeth was also digging up bodies from graves, which is a parallel to zombies, hooking 1827 to 1941.) Dining at the Ritz-- literally going to The Ritz and eating together, which they do twice in S1-- is something Aziraphale would literally like to go do as a date as but it's also code in the 1967 scene for "perhaps, one day, we could finish 1941." He's telling Crowley in 1967 that he would still very much like to kiss him one day.

The near-kiss in 1941 would then also be what gives Aziraphale the motivation to eventually give Crowley the holy water in 1967. Back in 1863, Aziraphale didn't totally see that Crowley wanted holy water to protect them. By 1941, when they're staring at the corpse of a once-Zombie Nazi on the floor of the bookshop that Crowley just killed with the gun that's in his hands, it's a different sort of proof. 1941 becomes the era of 'here is proof that Crowley will literally kill to protect Aziraphale' and maybe it freaks Aziraphale out a little (as well as also turning him on a lot lol). Maybe that's why they spend the next years after that until the '60s together but not really together. Maybe that's why they don't have another chance at the kiss after 1941-- why they don't just try again-- because Aziraphale slows down a bit after it, afraid that Crowley could get hurt and that this is too dangerous, but he also understands now that Crowley is in love with him and when he hears in 1967 that Crowley is going after Holy Water, Aziraphale just gives him some, as a way of saying that he knows they're in love but this is impossible and they need to not pursue this in a way that will get them killed because he can't lose him.

A near-kiss in 1941 adds layers to 1967 Soho by adding an additional meaning of 'physical intimacy' to "dining at the Ritz". It adds even more weight to the end of S2 and the kiss and the "no nightingales" through to the Tori Amos angsty cover of "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" in The Bentley. There are other scenes (the end of S1 and others) that it touches as well, if indirectly, but maybe my favorite is this scene, which has already been given extra layers of meaning since The Blitz, Part 2 and The Bullet Catcher plot but lol now add in the idea that the rest of the story is that Crowley and Aziraphale were going to kiss and they were interrupted in the moment, shot at with at least one of them probably getting nicked, and then Crowley killed someone with The Bullet Catcher and tell me it doesn't make this already amazing sequence even more amazing:

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens theory #good omens 1941 #good omens meta #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale

[aithusarosekiller]

Okay I'm being insane again

Extremely unlikely theory time!!

Furfur is the (metaphorical) rainstorm in episode 4

So we all know this:

And how it ties in with this:

Well I think that THIS is very similar despite there being no physical storm to shelter from- because I believe that Furfur's meddling was supposed to BE the storm:

I know that a lot of GO demons and angels aren't portrayed as a perfect translation of who they're based on (we can see below that Furfur was brought down a few ranks for the show...which makes me wonder why they chose him instead of making a new demon or smth...)

but I just find it kind of funny that the demon they chose to turn into the character whose role is to come along and meddle with A+C's lives -eventually forcing them to look at each other along the barrel of the rifle as they stood under the stage together and quite possibly realised just how deep their feelings were- is described as this:

I have managed to convince myself that Furfur is Episode four's rainstorm, leading up a defining moment in Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship.

The second the 'rainstorm' (Furfur and his miracle blocker) hits them, and Crowley is forced onto that stage with Az, he is seemingly hit right in the face with the knowledge that he cares about Aziraphale far too much to ever hurt him, similar to the trust in the previous three sheltering scenes and in line with Crowley's 'realise they were made for each other' line. They stood there together, Crowley trying to keep aziraphale safe, while a storm was raging around them, while also having that large revelation about their rs and his own feelings.

I think the 'realise they were made for each other' moment Crowley seems so certain about happened for him in 1941 because that was probably the exact thought he had when he looked across the stage at Aziraphale's pleading face, knowing that he didn't want to shoot but still going on to do it just because Az was dead set on doing the trick

He did it because aziraphale wanted him to, because he couldn't say no to him, and he realised that he felt that he was *made* for him

(Which is all then closely followed up by the two of them seeing Furfur off and going on to have a very romantic candlelit drink together, and a conversation about trust and the whole 'shades of grey' business which I will not joke about rn)

Anyway, I know this is almost definitely just me connecting dots that were never meant to be connected but theorising is fun!!

#delulu time #good omens #good omens season two #good omens theory #ineffable spouses #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #good omens furfur

[ao3cassandraic]

Heaven's so-called command team

Aziraphale is facing one hell (so to speak) of a mess once he exits the elevator into Heaven. No wonder the Metatron is on about "institutional failures." Heaven's command team is mostly disastrous.

I don't have any religion (heh) about how Aziraphale will approach his command situation -- it's also not clear how much rope the Metatron will give him to hang himself with -- but I think it's worth looking at what that situation actually is.

Michael's easiest to read: she's a conniver, not unlike Shax. Kiss up kick down plus backchannels plus consciousness of power are her whole thing. She's also just been handed a massive slap in the face by the extremely punchable Metatron. If Aziraphale can leverage that into anti-Metatron connivance, well and good; but unfortunately she's just as likely to blame Aziraphale and connive to dethrone him. Zira's best move might be to deflect her into a bit of connivery that's chase-her-tail useless. Should be possible; she's perceptive in her way, but she never turns that lens on power.

Uriel strikes me as suppressing rage. Rage at what exactly, I'm not entirely sure. The best guess I have is that Uriel, not unlike Agnes Nutter, has a strong sense of How Things Are Supposed To Be, and when things are not that way, well... So if Aziraphale can find a Something Wrong to point Uriel's rage at, well and good. All the better if it's the Metatron, though the hitch there is that Uriel (like Michael) perceives him as a source of authority and judgment.

Sandalphon is mostly muscle. Find him something to intimidate or smite and he'll be happy. I'd toss him up (possibly alongside Uriel) against the Shax-Furfur brain trust, with some sorrow for the many Erics he'll disintegrate.

Saraqael... whew. She's a tough customer, and what Aziraphale can or will do with her depends on a lot of things we don't exactly know. Does she resent the Metatron -- she certainly has reason to -- and if so, how much? Or does she sublimate all that as just part of the job? Was she responsible for Crowley's memory gaps, and if so, was she ordered? By whom? (I suspect she'd have had to be ordered. She's ops, not command. Hyper-competent... but limited in initiative.)

My biggest question is whether Saraqael is (or can be called upon to be) moral, or whether we're going to see a Nurembergish "I just do my job" out of her. That latter is one hell of a treacherous place to go, narratively... but this show sure does keep circling back around to 1941, so who knows.

These musings are a bit random and I don't have any conclusions really. By all means take them where you think they ought to go.

#good omens #good omens meta #michael #uriel #sandalphon #saraqael #aziraphale #the fucking metatron #s3 speculation

[stuffymcstuffsworld]

Luck? Ha!

A grumbling Jazz and an exhausted Allocer trudge through the door. It doesn't take a genius to figure out why the pair is so upset. Or rather who made them upset.

A certain red demon was the main suspect on your mind. But still, you might as well find out what the menace did now. "What happened this time?" You asked.

"I don't know why we keep falling for his stupid tricks!!!" Jazz rants as Allocer flops down into your lap. You stroke the boys' mane as he joins in.

"He keeps using the same tricks, but even though we're aware of it, we still fall for it." "You'd think we'd get lucky and win once, at least."

"Luck? Ha!" You snorted. You couldn't help yourself. "Jazzy sweetie, luck is a crutch. It is a concept that far too many rely on."

"But doesn't o-" "Orias-san, your sensei can certainly will things in his favor thanks to his bloodline magic, but he doesn't use it often." You cut off his argument.

"His use of it can be extremely dangerous for himself. Depending on what he uses it for, he can suffer from side effects of his magic. Or as he calls it bad luck. The bigger the risk he takes, the stronger the consequences are for him later."

"Either way, how is it they keep winning? I want to wipe that smug look off that bastards face just once!" You chuckle as Jazz gets riled up over Furfur again.

"The answer is rather simple, my darlings." You say as Jazz sits next to you. What a cute pout. You mean brooding, yes, definitely brooding and not pouty at all.

Both boys look at you expectantly. "Information." Is all you say. Allocer tilts his head at your remark. "Are you saying he's more knowledgeable than us?"

You can't help but coo at his confused face. "Not exactly, my dear, you see... it doesn't determine who's smarter. No, it's the knowledge you do have and how you use it."

Both boys frown obviously, not understanding. "Hmm, how to explain..." You lean back against the couch, thinking. Your eyes spot a deck of cards on the coffee table. No doubt left by one of the other kids.

An idea comes to mind. "Let me try in a way you might relate to." You pick up the cards. Shuffling them as you begin to speak.

"What's the probability of drawing the Ace of spades out of a deck with no jokers?" You remove the jokers from the deck and draw the Ace of spades. "Normaly, it's one in fifty."

You set that deck down and grab the unopen deck on the table again. You removed the jokers. "But what if it's a brand new deck?" The boys eyes widened as you asked this.

"The positions of the cards in a new deck are typically identical, so that means if you take the jokers out and draw the card at the very bottom." You again show them the Ace of spades. "It's Ace of spades almost 100% of the time."

Jazz trembles in rage, realizing what you meant, and Allocer is clenching his fists. "That's right, my dears. Nobody said anything about it being a new deck. Rather... neither of you thought to ask."

You can see the wheels turning in both boys' minds as you said this. You set the cards down again. Driving your point home.

"Being in the "know" gives someone the power to turn the probability of winning from a 1.92% chance to a hundred. Evidently, it's often the more knowledgeable party that becomes the victor." You had given them much to think about.

"So, you were aware of him cheating. That's a good start. But until you understand the true aspect of whatever he convinces you to play, he is going to win."

Jazz is seething, and Allocer remains quiet, obviously trying to think about what you said. "So you just need to become the more knowledgeable party, my sweets." You patted both of them on the head.

"You really think we can beat him?" Allocer asked. "Oh, I know you can. It may take some time. But once you manage it once, you'll be able to do it again till you knock down that wall."

You chuckle. Impossible goals were something your children were overly fond of after all. It was only a matter of time before they bleed that greedy demon dry.

Elsewhere general Furfur sneezes. "Someone must be talking about me. I bet it's my cute underlings! I'll have to see them again soon!"

#mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #reader #jazz andro #allocer schneider #general furfur #orias oswell

[havemyheartaziraphale]

Furfur definitely visits a rage room

#good omens furfur #furfur #absolute crackpot theory #good omens

[rhosmeinir]

Fictober 2023 #6

Prompt #6 - "I can't wait for you anymore."

Fanfiction: Good Omens

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands/Aziracrow

Other Notes: In which Crowley waits. 556 words!

“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

It’d haunted him since Aziraphale had said it, and roared in Crowley’s ears as he’d watched the lift doors close. He had waited, waited for Aziraphale to change his mind, even after their final exchange; waited for the angel he knew so well to come to his senses and turn around, walk away from the Metatron, and come back where he belonged. He’d have driven them off at speeds central London could only have dreamed of, away from the Metatron, away from Heaven, away from Hell, somewhere the us that was Aziraphale and Crowley could have been safe and, whoever willing, maybe even happy. 

But the waiting had been in vain. The Bentley crawled away from the bookshop with no fight from Crowley: he had paid no attention to either the speed or the direction of the car, lost in an aimless numbness. When the car stopped, it had taken several moments and an impatient beep of the horn for Crowley to stir, and realize where he was. Grumbling vaguely at the car, he had made his way inside the building and to the door of his old flat, which he’dfound unexpectedly open. A note from Shax was on the entry table: All yours again. The door clicked shut behind Crowley, and it was only then that he broke down, crumpling to his knees with the sob he’d been holding in for so long, pounding his fists on the floor, and with a roar of rage and despair, winging his sunglasses across the room to smash against the wall.

He wanted to storm Heaven and bring Aziraphale back. He wanted to storm Hell, and demand their help. He wanted to burn down the bookshop and either erase every trace of Aziraphale, or summon him back to Earth. But amidst his chaotic thoughts, the demon knew that Aziraphale had made his choice, and whatever his reasons were, he’d had them. So again Crowley waited. He drank, watched old films he’d watched a dozen times before, slept away the hours and days and weeks that piled up like unwashed dishes in the sink of someone who couldn’t bring themselves to do them, despite a desperate desire. Once he even tried baking, but it reminded him too much of Aziraphale, and ended with the oven door slammed shut until the fire went out. Mostly he drank, and slept, and waited.

Now, Crowley stood at his fireplace, the crackling of the flames within distant as the moon as he leaned on the mantelpiece with one hand, gazing downward. In his hand was the photo Furfur had taken at Aziraphale’s magic show in 1941, showing angel and demon together onstage, about to perform a discorporation-defying feat of prestidigitation. It was somewhat faded with time and soft around the edges, but still showed its subjects as clearly as the day it had been taken. Suddenly the image rippled, as with a faint splish, a drop of water landed on it, obscuring Aziraphale’s face. With the back of his wrist, Crowley wiped his eyes roughly. He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked at the photo again, as the drop dissipated.

“I can’t wait for you anymore, Angel.”

The photo hissed and crinkled as it landed in the flames, disappearing in a plume of chemical smoke.

#fictober23 #fictober #good omens #gomens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #angst #crowley centric #fanfiction #crowley #aziraphale

[pidge-it-up-archive]

i won't do the dance (but we can dance together)

[Good Omens Season 2 Spoilers - 2,559k words - read on AO3]

“Oh, excuse me. Sorry, I must- Oh, please be careful, sir, I’ve kept this coat in pristine condition until now, I- Oh, my.” The angel sighed in defeat. Of course, no demon would ever care about how clean his suit have been for years, or would ever do the kindness of stepping aside so he could get around easier. 

Aziraphale really couldn’t blame them. He too would be grumpy if he were to live under these situations. The smell was awful, in a way no human or divine language could describe. And it was hot, but not just “temperature” hot. More like the train on a hot day with no air conditioning or windows, during rush hour, full of constructor workers who haven’t showered in forever, millennia after millennia. 

The first, and only, time he was here, his mind was somewhere else entirely. He was so focused on not ruining things, on following the plan, and not being discovered that everything else faded from existence. But now he was an outsider and incredibly lost, so everything was overwhelming. 

For half a second, Aziraphale thought about taking a deep breath to calm himself down — a habit he had developed after so many years living within humans, even if oxygen was unnecessary for him — but was able to stop himself by the miracle act of “thinking things through”. He settled for only counting to 7 in his mind. He got this. 

He walked through the crowded corridor for… he doesn’t know how long, honestly. Time in Hell is substantially different from time in Heaven or Earth. Felt like a lot, though. Too much. 

But then, finally, he reached a more open (not less crowded) space, a bigger hall that led to multiple directions. “Oh, bugger. Maybe this is a terrible idea. He couldn’t be… He wouldn’t be-”

“Angel.” 

Aziraphale shuddered. How wrong it was coming out of anyone’s but his mouth. He turned around. “Hello, yes?” 

“You are an angel. You are not supposed to be here” The demon was a few inches shorter than Aziraphale, skin pale like an albino lizard.

Aziraphale smiled politely. “Yes, I’m highly aware of that.”

“How did you get here?”

“You see, it was actually quite easy, I always thought it would be harder. All I had to do was take the elevator down, and it led straight here. A huge security breach, if you ask me. For both our sides.” 

“Right, yeah, sure. What do you want?”

“Oh, right!” Aziraphale shifted his weight from one foot to the other, “I-”

“He’s probably looking for his boyfriend.” A voice came from behind him. Aziraphale had to give his all to now roll his eyes to the back of his head as he turned once more to face another demon, one familiar this time.

“I- I wouldn’t put it like that. He’s not-”

“Heh, of course you wouldn’t. Neither would he, I believe.” Furfur grinned, the two tips of his tongue flaring out for a second. “Hello, Aziraphill.”

The angel’s jaw locked. He didn’t like the demon’s tone. “For the last time, it’s Azirap-”

“Don’t care. So, was I right?” Furfur rounded him with a mocking interest. “Are you here for you dear, well, ex?”

Aziraphale took a deep breath, too angry to even care about the foul odor that made his eyes sting. He had to, or all his angelicness would go down the drain as soon as he closed his fist. “Is Crowley here?” 

“What if he is?” 

“Is he, or not?” The angel’s tone came out harsh, and as he spoke, a tiny eye opened with an incandescent blue iris staring down the demon, right below his right eye. It blinked, and it was gone just as fast. But Furfur saw the rage it held. 

“Y- Yes. He is.”

“Take me to him.”

The demon grimaced. “Follow me.”

As the demon turned away, Aziraphale deflated. So Crowley is here, after all. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

For years, he had followed Crowley's steps from Heaven, looking after him the best way he could. And god, was it hard. Maybe the hardest thing he had done in ages. Because in the first few years they were apart, Crowley slept. He got his apartment back and as soon as it was all back into place, he got under the covers and slept.

It broke Aziraphale to see it happening. It broke him when he would check on him and he had tears accumulated at the corner of his eyes. But there was nothing he could do. Both have chosen their path, and Aziraphate wasn't going to back down on his decision. He couldn't, not when he knew what was at stake.

So he settled for this torturing "routine" for 3 years. He would do his work and then, once a month (or a week) (or day, depending on how anxious he was feeling), he would check on Crowley. 

But then, one day, when he tuned in to check on Crowley, he was gone. He then tried the bookshop, then the park, then the Ritz, then TaddfieId, then everywhere they had the tiniest history together, then the stars. He even went as far as to check a few zoos for a particular black snake. But every time, everywhere, all he found was nothing.

After 4 years of fruitless searching he had to face his least favorite outcome (of course, his real least favorite was actually far too terrible to even think about and, therefore was completely ignored): Crowley was back in hell. 

Well. Fine. Again, they both made their choice. 

But then, a meeting with the archangels and the Metraton happened, and their plan was laid out, and it was terrible, and all his opinion and thoughts were dismissed as nothing, and then, finally, after 7 years, he understood. And God, how he hated himself. How he despised how stupid he had been. He had been played with beautifully, and everyone else had seen the strings but him. 

"Supreme Archangel". Nothing supreme about it. He had less power than the queen of England.

So as soon as he left the meeting, he made a B-line to the elevator and pressed "Down" with a capital D.

As he followed Furfur, his mind raced with billions of scenarios, a few more likely than others. What would it be like, to see Crowley after all this time? Sure, this wasn't the longest period of time they had apart, but their separation was very… unique this time. What would Crowley do? Would he turn him away? 

And what would he even say? Where would, could, he even start? 

"Here we are," Furfur's voice brought him back to the present.

"Oh," The angel stopped almost too late, not bumping into the demon by an inch. 

Aziraphale looked up. They were in front of an old large wooden door, with rusty iron patterns adorning it. It was antique and resembled the old doors they had in heaven before the place took a more clean design approach. It must have been beautiful, once. Maybe it was still beautiful even if it was almost falling apart, but Aziraphale didn't know if calling something beautiful in Hell even made sense. 

"Worst of luck, Azripastel," Furfur grinned before opening the door. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "Okay, now you are doing it on-" 

"Oh, what now, you blithering idiot?” 

Oh, lord. His voice. Aziraphale didn't know what it felt like to be suffocating. To have your lungs prived from the oxygen it needs to service. So he also didn't know how it felt to finally be able to breathe again, how hopeful, desperate, and relieving that first intake of air actually is. But if he could guess, it must feel something like that. 

Listening to Crowley's voice was like breathing again. But then, he looked ahead, and he was breathless again. 

"Crowley?” He spoke tentatively, as if he wasn't close to discorporating. Because Crowley… God. Crowley.

He was… Was divine a word he could use? Was it allowed? No, right? Because he had refrained from even using "beautiful" to describe a door in hell, so certainly… But what else could he call him? What else would be even fitting for the scene he had before him? Of course, there were other words, but they were not words he used. He couldn't use them or else he would lose his mind and all sense of self. 

Well, it didn’t matter. All he knew and cared for was that right there, in front of him, sitting shir- oh, god- shirtless and leg-spread on a throne, one leg over thrown over its arm, hiding absolutely nothing in those sinful (may She forgive me) leather pants, sipping mindlessly from a glass of red wine, was Crowley. Crowley, Duke of Hell. No sunglasses. 

The demon smirked at him, and his eyes were cold. "Well, if it isn't the Ssssupreme Archangel!" Crowley hissed his title. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale spoke again, and like an asteroid trapped in the sun's gravity, he took a step further into the room without even realizing it. 

“Stop,” Crowley spat at him like Aziraphale was an overexcited dog, ready to jump. And like an obedient dog, Aziraphale stopped. Crowley shifted, sitting up straighter, and as he did, the sound of the several chains and necklaces he wore tingled. For some reason, that made Aziraphale shiver. 

Aziraphale had never, in the history of forever, seen Crowley hold himself like that. Not as an angel, when he was the most adorable creature She has ever made. Not as a demon, or as the snake of Eden. Not even when they faced Satan together. Because Crowley, no matter how powerful he was, he never wore it like a crown. But here… Now? Oh, here he understood why people sinned. 

“Why are you even here?” Crowley turned up his nose. 

“Oh, I’m-”

“Not you, you idiot. Him” Crowley signed with his head behind the angel. “This isn’t a fucking party. Fuck off, Furfur.” 

When Aziraphale looked back to see the demon leave with several complaints on his tongue, he was able to finally take a look at the place. It was crowded with stuff, but not like Hell crowded. It was… Almost like Aziraphale crowded. There were books, and instruments, and plants, and notebooks, and furniture, and ammulates, and paintings, and all sorts of things. All in bad shape, of course, it was almost like the air in Hell consumed things, but… it was there nonetheless. The style. He couldn’t help but smile when he looked back at Crowley. 

“Oh, you are sssso full of nerve, aren’t you?” Crowley showed his fangs.

“Sorry,” the angel grimaced. Aziraphale didn’t remember ever even seeing them. They made him look so… Pretty. “I just-”

“Stop, stop, stop. Sssstop.” Crowley shifted again, leaning forward on his elbows, resting them on his knees, the wine glass hanging loosely between his hands. The chains tingled again. “I don’t know why you’re here, but if the best apology ever invented by… I don’t know, someone, doesn’t come out of your mouth right now, you can take your fanssscy grey suit back to where it belongs and leave me alone for the rest of eternity.” 

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale stepped closer. At each step, Crowley’s eyes gave away a bit. One tiny sparkle, one at a time. 

“I mean it.” Aziraphale was now within his reach. “And it’s not just a little dance! Because you can have the whole Royal Ballet dancing with you and that wouldn’t cut it.”

“I know, darling. I know.” Aziraphale was now so close that Crowley had to look up, but not for long. 

Aziraphale was oddly proud for an angel, he would admit. But as he knelt before Crowley on that throne, he didn’t feel one ounce of pride. He knelt, one knee then the other, and sat on his heels. He gently took the glass of wine from Crowley’s hand and sat it aside, then took the demon’s hand in his. 

He took his time feeling it this time. It was so fast, at the ball. But now he could feel it and see it properly. It was a beautiful hand. The black nail polish and the rings were a new addition, but it was slender, surprisingly smooth, and cold. So cold. He unconsciously tried to rub it a bit. 

“Snake blood.” Crowley’s voice was low on his throat now. Quiet.

“Right, of course.” Aziraphale looked up and met his eyes. 

It was like a different being completely from mere seconds ago. His eyes shone with the most pure tone of gold to exist in the universe. Hope suited him well. “Crowley, I am deeply sorry. I am sorry for the things I said. And for how I have said them. But I won’t do the dance, I’m afraid. Because I wasn’t wrong, but neither were you. But we weren’t right either. It’s a mess, really. But you were right about something. Heaven is not- Not what I thought it was. And they have something bad planned, and I- I need you.” 

“So… That’s it? A couple of not-even-that-pretty words and you expect me to help you? After everything?”

“Yes.” 

They stared at each other’s eyes for a couple of moments before Crowley sighed, taking his hands off Aziraphale’s. The angel didn’t understand how his hands felt colder at the lack of the touch. Crowley reached for the glass of wine, and got up, rounding Aziraphale, who followed him with his eyes from the floor, brows furrowed as he tried to understand if Crowley had or hadn’t forgiven him. 

Crowley went to a shelf near the exit and grabbed something. The place was so messy Aziraphale took a while to see what it was, but when he did, he sighed in relief. 

“You are unbelievable, you know that?” the demon said, opening his sunglasses temples with his chin. 

“Y-Yes!” Aziraphale jumped to his feet. But before Crowley could put his glasses on, Aziraphale stopped him, holding his wrist back. “Wait.”

“What?”

“Thank you. And I- I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He stepped closer and put his hand on Crowley’s chest. He was warmer here. 

Crowley’s pupil widened and he swallowed dry. Aziraphale couldn’t help but follow his Adam’s apple and wettening his lips. Crowley must have noticed because when he spoke, his voice had the tiniest glint of a smile behind it.

“Oh, I’ll hold you up to that promise, Angel.” Crowley smiled, really smiled, for the first time in seven years. 

Crowley put on his sunglasses and snapped his fingers. The huge door stormed open, hitting the walls on the corridor, and nearly not killing Furfur, who was stubbornly waiting outside. “Furfur! My guy!” 

“Me?” The demon glowed.

“Yeah, go tell Shax she can have her room back.”

“Wh-What?” 

Crowley gulped down the wine, and threw it over to the side, near Furfur’s head. “I’m off this shit hole!” He turned around with an easy smile on his face. Oh, how smiling came easy when Aziraphale was near him. “You coming, Angel?” 

He reached out his hand, and without a second thought, Aziraphale took it. “Of course.” 

When their hands were securely interlaced, Crowley snapped his fingers and they were out of there. They had a world to save. 

END?

-

>> This short fic was inspired by Joops's Art.

#good omens season 2 #good omens fanfic #fic by pidge it up #good omens #crowley as duke of hell is so hot #inspired by art #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #crowley is a simp for Aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

[valartyn]

Finished my slow rewatching of season 2 (slow because I'm having a me time between episodes to try to become a functional human once again), and here are my Thoughts™ :

SPOILERS /!\

- I definitely got that romantic vibe Neil was going for during the 2nd watch, since I wasn't focused only on Crowley and Aziraphale, and I was left giggling, kicking my feet at any Innefable Bureaucracy moments because YES this is a good ship THE TINY TOUCHES OH GODS-

- People already talked about that, but the way gender nonconformism/ any nonconformism wasn't addressed as a plot point but rather as something that don't need mentioning because it's just 'normal'?? I've dreamt of that for myself, being me and people just being 'alright. Anyway-' instead of making a Deal™ out of it.

- I expected the ending to destroy me once again and I'm glad to say it didn't, but rather made me focus on dialogues and the things said and the acting of our talented Michael Sheen and David Tennant. I wasn't sad, per se, simply full of Rage™ because I'm so doNE WITH GRANDPAS FIDLING IN OTHER'S LIFE FOR THEIR OWN PROFIT (hum-Dumbledore-hum).

- I spent my time screaming silently at my wall about how Aziraphale needs to be SELFISH for once in his life- we saw him reacting at the Metatron talking about the Second Coming and just- making himself believe that he can change things from the inside, for Humanity, even if it hurts him ("I don't want to go back to Heaven") and his relationships (... do I need to clarify?).

- Furfur struggling to say Aziraphale's name makes me burst out laughing every. single. time.

- Anyway, this season was pure gold, I watched all the X-RAYS (helped me since we see everyone smiling), I LOVED Jim!!!!! He's so Silly™ ??!! And MURIEL!! I live for them, tbh. We saw Aziraphale happy and that's always a bonus. We saw Crowley drunk on poison, which is always laughter inducing ("nO MORE DAYIN'!").

- thanks Neil for all of that <3

#good omens season 2 #innefable husbands #aziracrow #neil gaiman #good omens #michael sheen #david tennant

[normalpeopleconfuseme]

Sexiness is over 9000!

You hummed a small tune as you placed the returned books back on the shelves. The morning had been busy since it's right around exams and students have been studying like crazy for the last few days but thankfully you've been able to keep up with the rush.

" Excuse me sensei do you have any books on the history of torture?' A small student covered in fur asked politely and you offered them a soft smile. "You're just in luck! I was just about to put one back on the shelves." You handed the small student their book, they couldn't help but sigh in relief at holding the book. " Thank you so much sensei! It's been so hard to grab this! I really need to cram on my history for the torture classes, it's my lowest grade."

A cloud of gloom hanged over the young students' head which caused you to chuckle a little. You pat their head in comfort " Always remember that I'm right here whenever you need help and theres always a chance or two I could sneak some reference material off of the teachers if you really need it, just do your best alright?"

You were able to cheer them up as you pat their head, an arua of confidence had started to surround them. They laughed slightly at the affection before thanking you again and going on their way. You wore a proud smile on your face as your returned back to your work.

"Such sweet kids I hope each of them will do their best on their exams." You talked to yourself as you place the books backs. One quick look away was quick enough for someone to sneak up on you. You were surprised to see Raim-sensei leaning over your trolly with a cheeky smile on her face while Momonoki stood behind her with a chart that was filled with treats and tea.

"Ready for your daily meeting?' Raim-sensei asked.

"The daily meeting" was really a small gathering in the middle of the school day between class breaks. They were normally held in your office since students and even some teachers rarely entered your office so it sort of became a hangout spot for the three of you. Raim and Momonoki let out a sigh after taking a drink from their hell grade tea.

Raim let out a groaned as she leaned back on her hands. "I had such bad luck last night I met a cutie, but I couldn't even get near him thanks to a certain annoying general." she said with some annoyance in her tone. You never understood why she kept going to that bar. You sighed with annoyance knowing very well who she's talking about.

"I still don't get why you keep going back to that bar in the first place, you know that its infested with vermin" You tried to hold back the growl that threatened to escape from your lips. "I don't know why either but its hard for a demon so leave their previous stomping grounds, but maybe I should find another place to use my charms other than that place the only one who was handsome enough was gerneral furfur."

Yes, the mighty general furfur and his men had arrogantly taken over Raim's favorite spot for a meal. Momonoki looked at her with sympathy "General furfur must've told his men not to flirt with any woman in the bar, that can't be good for a succubus to be denied their prey."

You agreed as you had learned that succubus had a tendency to roam around an area that they like for their meals "Well now I see why you're so annoyed with the change in the atmosphere at your stomping grounds" You had only ever met the general a few times before and those few times were more than enough for you to deal with the annoying red demon. You gritted your teeth at the thought of the man. "If I were you I would have clocked that idiot on the side of the head." You huffed and took a drink of your tea.

Raim looked at you before a teasing smile covered her face "I see what furfur meant last night-" "Please don't tell me you slept with that asshole, he smells like cheap cologne and cigarettes." You were about to go on a rant but Raim was quick to change the topic about the general.

"No no! of course not!"

Rage slightly defused and leaned over the table. "With the general there, none of the cuties will look my way without a little help from me, it was so boring, and they were all just a bunch of meatheads that didn't know the first thing of how to treat a lady like me!"

She groaned as she laid on the table, you chuckled a little while momonoki attempted to comfort her "I suppose everyone's love life has its' ups and downs at times Raim, you shouldn't worry too much."

You nodded in agreement with momonokis' wise words. Finding love in the netherworld was hard even more so with being a human, spending everyday making sure you and your sons identity wasn't exposed.

Raim let out a sob as a few crocodile tears escaped her eyes. " I supposed so Momo-chan but seriously where are the proper men?! The ones that can be sweet and gentle one moment but press you against the wall the next when you act like a brat!!"

You could only sweatdrop at her shout while Momonoki only laughed nervously at her comment.

"Come on Raim, you can always find some other place for your meals, anyone would be lucky to have your attention." You knew even with Raim being an succubus, the effect of losing ones self confidence in something they enjoy. Raim gave you a smile at your complement.

"Oh YN, you're so sweet but there are times where I wish you could give me some of your charm, it always seem like you have strong , handsome demons after you."

.....Say wha?

Question marks floated around your head at her remark, what in the world did she meant? was what you thought when she noticed your confused look.

"Come on Y/N, you can't tell me that you haven't noticed how Balam follows you around most of the time?" You and him go on rants about the human world a lot.

"And there's Dali-sensei who I never seen go out with a demon any longer than a week yet I've seen even him making heart eyes at you!"

....

You could only stare at her as the dial up noise sounded in your head...

Momonoki suddenly looked embarrassed and she started to fiddle with her tea cup.

"uuuh W-what about kalego-sensei?"

Record full stop! "Dear devi please don't say anything Raim! I don't want to get involved with a misunderstanding love triangle!'

You prayed to everything you could that Kalego isn't involved with this madness!

But the silence from Raim as she had a still look on her face was clear. she tried to lean and look away from the teary demon.

" I'm so sorry Momo-chan... but YN sexiness is over a limit that I have never seen before...even tall dark and angry Kalego isn't immune by them."

That deserved a quick wack on the back of the head as Momonoki cried.

#welcome to demon school iruma kun #reader #morax momonoki

[rcreveal]

New Leadership

Crowley read Aziraphale’s lips as the angel looked at him from across the street on the precipice of the elevator to Heaven.  Huh, so it was like that.

In the Bentley, he turned off the song of the nightingale that had been theirs for so long as he drove steadily to his flat, eyes dry and temporarily feeling nothing but cold rage: at Heaven, at Hell, at that manipulative bastard, the Metatron, and at that sodding idiot, Aziraphale.

Opening the flat he found a hideous side table with curved spindly legs that had a neat set of pigeon holes stuffed full of his mail.  It was just part of the overwhelming explosion of baroque opulence, velour, and velvet across the entire flat: red velvet curtains, red velvet sofa, baroque monstrosity of a desk.  Shaking his head in amazement, and storing the anger at his place being so thoroughly debased for later usage, he made directly for the wall safe.  His Da Vinci piece was gone, likely sent down to Hell as tribute, with a sickening picture of a red kitten painted on velvet having killed a nest of sparrows hanging in the place it had graced.  But with luck they wouldn’t have been able to crack the safe.

A moment’s work at the lock showed that his little helpmates were still stored safely, he pulled out the specially made brass knuckles set with genuine holy relics and demon repelling glyphs and slipped them into his jacket pocket.  The dull ache of them so close to his skin just made him angrier, good.

Right, then, time to go to Hell.

Heated arguments were taking place in Beelzebub’s throne room between Shax, Furfur, Dagon and Hastur.  Crowley sauntered in with the hand-crank resting on his shoulder like he owned the place, walked straight to the throne, and sprawled into it.  The other demons were temporarily shocked into silence at the absolute nerve of the traitor.  Shax, recovering first, yelled, “What the Heaven do you think you’re doing, traitor?!”

Crowley casually pointed at her from the throne, red tinged demonic lighting pulsing from his finger until she cracked and exploded.

Tipping his head up and over to the side, he said, “It’s obvious. I’m taking over,” to the rest of them.

Hastur, gaping and gabbling, stalks towards Crowley gesturing jerkily from where Shax had stood then back to Crowley, “What did you…? What do you think..? Look what you..!” finally looming over Crowley on the throne he growls, “On whose authority do you have the right to be the Grand Duke of Hell?!!”

Crowley looks up at him casually. Then Crowley stands menacingly slowly right within an inch of Hastur’s face, radiating such cold fury that Hastur takes an involuntary step back.  Crowley pats Hastur on the shoulder, with the hand still holding the hand-crank while he slips his other hand into his jacket. He growls softly, “Oh, you want my authority, Hastur? Look, I‘ve got it right here.”

The holy brass knuckles ignite on contact with the demon’s jaw, as the punch lifts the demon off his feet.  Hastur doesn’t disincorporate, but he lays crumpled at Crowley’s feet with a new tattoo burned on his jaw.

“Anyone else want to question my authority!?”Crowley says, pointing the hand-crank at the demons who are still standing frozen and gawking.  The remaining demons make no move to stop Crowley as sits back down and leans into the black throne throwing a leg over one of the arms apparently entirely at his ease.  

“I’ve got news for you lot,” Crowley growls, “The Metatron made Aziraphale Supreme Archangel! You sent dozens of demons who couldn’t stop him when he was all alone with a couple of measly humans for support.  How do you think you’ll fare when he’s got all the resources of Heaven?  Without me, you haven’t got a, hah, prayer, of opposing Heaven.  You’ll just roll over and show them your bellies and do whatever they ask, again,“ he glares at Dagon, who was trying to surreptitiously slink off with his phone. “And Dagon, do tell Archangel Michael, I send my regards when you tell them I’m the new Grand Duke of Hell!”

“Now push off!  I want everything you’ve got planned on the Second Coming!” 

#good omens fanfic #season 3 speculation #angry crowley #crowley is good at being a demon

[fulokis]

My Side | A Good Omens FanFic

Spoilers for season 2

For the first time in decades Crowley couldn't sleep.

The Bentley wasn't at fault, just the other week he'd slept almost 20 full hours in it. It wasn't too bright either he'd found a rather dark area outside the city. The noise tonight was also at a minimum where he'd picked to illegally park and try for some sleep. Everything was set up just the way he liked it and yet he still couldn't sleep.

He tried to remember when exactly the last time a sudden bout of insomnia had popped up. It wasn't 1941, he had a reason especially with Furfur attempting to expose him and Aziraphaels arrangement. He supposed it could have been after the laudanum incident, but considering all he remembered from that was the girls face when he drank it instead of letting her do it. He assumed that it was nightmares of that face or the subsequent torture that had him avoiding sleep for a good couple of decades.

It wasn't after he'd initially asked for the holy water either. Crowley had gone to sleep after the fight in Saint James park and when he woke up it was a new century and there was a war raging across Europe. Nothing of note really happened between them and 1941. After 1941 he'd helped construct the M25. And then Armageddon almost happened, but Warlock had worn him out enough in those early years that he would sleep quite regularly.

Crowley was wracking his brain trying to remember. He was almost asleep when the answer hit him like a brick.

You go too fast for me Crowley.

His limbs react before his brain can pulling him rigid and upright in the drivers seat. He can't even look at the passengers side, he knows it will be empty. He doesn't even think as he's turning the engine to the Bentley, it's almost as if he's on autopilot.

He doesn't pay attention to the surroundings as the Bentley is meandering down the streets. Crowley would be instructing it to go faster if his brain wasn't occupied with Aziraphael. That's all that's running through his stupid head and there's nothing going on at 3 am that would be sufficient to distract him. So he sits as the Bentley drives him to an unknown destination, ruminating on the angel.

When the Bentley finally stopped driving it was  approximately 5:13 in the morning. Or as far as Crowley could tell, he wasn't exactly keeping track right now. He sighed and stretched stepping out of the Bentley. It had taken him to a familiar building.

He stood outside the gate of the abandoned convent. How long it had stood like this he wasn't sure. He wasn't even sure if Adam had altered it when he rebooted reality. He stood staring contemplating the building.

This was the very building that had started off Armageddon. The one where the antichrist was delivered. This was the very building that had set off the chain of events that had transpired the past 15 years. The very one that led to his situation now. And once again he'd caused it.

Crowley tried to get angry, he tried to summon lightning, tried to set the damn building on fire or to even do something to the property. But the only thing that came out of him were tears.

Tears.

While not entirely new to the demon these were different. They were different than when the sands of the desert got into his eyes. They were different than the stinging tears when he'd chopped onions. They both stung and felt like nothing. He could feel them streaming down his cheeks, and for once he was powerless to stop them.

He stood there crying and staring. Trying his best to control his emotions, to just push it down and ignore it like he'd been doing for the past 6000 years. But something had broken, or rather the door had been reopened. He can't remember it really, not as vividly anymore, the memories have faded over his long existence.

Get up. He can almost hear the harsh words coming from a Beelzebub. Get up and stop crying your a demon and you've got work to do. He knows that's exactly what he did, got up and got to work.

And that's what he did so much in the past 6000 years.  Crowley had convinced himself he was the strong one, he didn't need to let it out. To take that burden and keep it locked up in a box for it to sit there, to bubble and fester until it became it's own pool of boiling sulfur. Demons don't cry they let the emotions sit until their too much to handle and the come out as anger.

Or in Crowleys case grief.

6000 years of stuffed up emotions all came out in the form of grief. Grief over his role in Armageddon. Grief in the knowledge of what was likely to happen next. Grief over loosing his angel in the worst way possible.

He'd thought the bookshop fire was bad, not being able to tell that Aziraphael had discorporated, thinking somebody had killed the angel. Since that day he'd become anxious, thinking of all the other ways that heaven and hell would be able to take away their precious side. He never imagined they'd do it to each other.

He could blame the metatron, he could blame every other bloody angel and demon. Hell he could blame Her. But he didn't, he wouldn't.  This was his fault, he was too fast and too late once again. And in a last ditch desperate move he'd made the choice to display his adoration for Aziraphael in an all too human way.

The demon crowley always so desperate to get back up to earth, shame if only we knew why. Shaxs' words rang through his head.

I should go back. He thought, nothing else worth protecting on this damn planet. He tried to convince himself of the falsehood. Deep down Crowley was aware he was lying to himself. There were plenty of things to protect. Warlock and Adam, Nina and Maggie, alcohol. Sure no angel but what would hell have in store for him, surely nothing pleasant.

He hadn't realized in his grief he'd slid down to the ground leaning against his car. Using the Bentley as support he pushed himself up off the gravel driveway wiping the dust off. Sighing he opened the car door and climbed inside, allowing himself to sit for a minute and think.

He knew two things 1. Aziraphael was gone, he had left and this time there was no getting him back. 2. Earth and humanity were in real danger from both heaven and hell, it needed someone to protect it.

Let's get this bullshit started. He thought as he pulled the Bentley back onto the main road. He was doing this for him, and to a lesser extent humanity. After all why did she need to test them to destruction? And if anything it would be fun to muck up the 'Great' plan a second time.

That'll show that Bastard, I'm on my own side. Were his last thoughts before he pulled to the side of the road and promptly fell asleep.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #go2 spoilers

[vidavalor]

This is the face of an angel who just realized that his oppressors are afraid of him and his friends because, together, they are a force that threatens the regime.

This is the face of an angel that just realized all of this Metatron nonsense is to separate them and keep him-- the best strategist-- from starting a revolution. If they are split up, The Second Coming goes off without a hitch... but if Aziraphale unites them, then Heaven will fall. Crowley & Aziraphale alone are enough trouble together to stop Armageddon. Crowley & Aziraphale with the eons-long leaders and commanders of Heaven and Hell in Gabriel and Beezelbub, though? That is a coup.

How little would it take to overthrow it all at this point? How long until it's Crowley & Aziraphale & Gabriel & Beez... & Muriel & Eric & Furfur? How til they get Michael and Dagon on their side? How long until it's actually most of the demons and a sizable portion of the angels teaming up against what's left of Heaven?

Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death. Aziraphale took the coffee. The Metatron thinks it means subservience. He thinks it means he's tricked Aziraphale and that he's won and he was almost right, so is the level of trauma these beings have suffered. He didn't know, though, that coffee is already coded as liberty. He handed Aziraphale a cup of symbolic freedom and didn't realize how so very true that was going to be. Just like a certain empire once did when they gave some of their people the option to form some colonies, thinking that the empire would always remain in control, and now we call those colonies not part of Great Britain but The United States of America.

"Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks leap out"-- the Job quote on the matchbox. The matchbox containing the fly, containing Gabriel via Beez. Out of Gabriel's mouth goes burning lamps-- Gabriel lights the way. He's the path forward. He is first shots fired in the rebellion...

...and sparks leap out.

Some Boston Tea Party stuff afoot, you guys.

That is the face of an angel that just realized that he and Crowley were both wrong: the solution isn't running away but it's also not taking over a broken system that doesn't want to be fixed... it's fanning the spark that Gabriel lit into a flame and then into an inferno and burning this entire mother to the ground.

Aziraphale is no longer headed to Heaven to run it.

He's headed to Heaven to *overthrow* it.

He's headed to Heaven to *liberate* it.

No idea how much of a chance he will get to succeed alone but this is Aziraphale. He will give them hell if it's the last thing he ever does-- for Muriel and all the angels like them. For all the persecuted demons. For the humans Heaven wants to destroy. For Gabriel.

Most of all, for what they did to Crowley and the 6,000 years of fear and pain they've put them through.

That is the face of an angel who just realized that he had almost been drawn back into Heaven's web of darkness again, only to hear that Heaven wants him to oversee the destruction of 8 billion people and the Earth he calls home and the stars the love of his life built and he has reached his absolute last remaining straw.

They've taken his home and hurt his friends and they took *Crowley* and at this point, Aziraphale no longer gives one flying fuck what it might be that God wants because God can go fuck herself if this it is. The elevator scene is Aziraphale saying Crowley was right:

That angel is *untethered* with barely controlled rage. They nearly played him for a sucker. He might die doing this and they fooled him and he broke Crowley's heart and they've taken too. Fucking. Much. It's just utter destruction. There will be no system of Heaven and Hell done when Aziraphale is through with it.

Aziraphale is about to go from not sure if he should stop Armageddon in S1 to being the angel that destroys the system of Heaven and Hell in S3.

Yes, you can save everyone, Aziraphale, but not alone. You need Crowley's imagination and Gabriel's leadership and Beez's intelligence. That's what they're afraid of. You finally got it in that elevator, so get up there now, get your gang back together, and make some trouble.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens s2 #good omens 2 #good omens meta

[promussecreta]

Safari Bound | soulmate AU

begin pt. 2

@jennathearcher

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

The evening had slipped into a comfortable sort of back-and-forth after the second glass of wine, with controversy and awkward topics deftly avoided. Tal couldn't say he'd learned much more about Furfur, except, and perhaps importantly, how to simply be around him. 

He got back home late, all too happy to be in a place where he could truly relax, in the way one did when one was alone and introverted. And relax he did, at least until bedtime, when The Cringe inevitably arrived.

Tal was used to The Cringe. Almost nightly, between the time he lay down in bed and when he finally fell asleep, his mind would assault him with replays of the most awkward moments of the day, or failing that, an older awkward moment Tal had yet to put behind himself. For anywhere from a few minutes to an hour or more, he would suffer pangs of self-hatred and fangless rage as he was reminded of blunder after blunder.

Often, he was even subjected to re-runs of such errors as weren't even truly errors, just tricks played by his mind as an excuse to panic and self-flagellate, the worst part of that being that he was only half the time able to tell the difference, anyway.

The detente between Tal and his brain was very shaky, indeed.

On that particular night, he lay in his cot, tangled in his sheets from the occasional flailing. He pondered all the ways he might have made Furfur uncomfortable, or the ways he might have put himself out for judgement, or….

Tal thrashed about in his bedclothes, shaking his head vigorously while striking at the sides of it with his knuckles, fast and hard.

He had mostly stopped self-injurious stimming in his mid-youth, but The Cringe had a way of prying through his defenses, and this was one hell of a Cringe. It was nearly two hours before tiredness and the residual alcohol (combined with his medication) finally claimed him for the land of dreams.

He awoke late the next morning with a feeling of tension, as if he had forgotten an assignment, or had neglected something important. The sensation of something hovering just behind his shoulders made him ruffle his hair more intensely than usual as he got out of bed. The feeling diminished, however, as he showered and prepared for the day.

Gran would want to hear everything, and it would be unwise to deny her.

#jennathearcher #leather bound au

[goldleafacrossyourlips]

Uneasy Lies the Head - Dark Lord/OC - Chapter 4

Chapters - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

Chapter 4 - Thyme and Glamour

Samara didn’t get to attend many weddings. She didn’t have many friends outside of her family. Any she had made during the Academy were lost when she began homeschooling. The Witch community in Vail wasn’t as large as the Greendale one and besides, Witch communities weren’t fond of bringing in outsiders. So as she sat amongst her former Coven members Samara faintly wished she was a part of a community as large as this one.

She tuned out most of what Blackwood was saying. He stood before them in his ornate robes and rambled on about their loss of the Anti Pope. Samara smoothed her black lace dress over her knees, picking off some stray fox hair as she went. She’d spent the morning getting ready and brushing Phlox. Her Aunts had been away at the Academy, Ambrose was still in hiding and Sabrina was with Nick. She had wanted to arrive at the Academy early and help her Aunt Zelda prepare but when she’d called she was told to simply arrive with the rest of the guests. So she’d busied herself at the Spellman house and waited until the time arrived to head to the Desecrated Church. It had felt odd to leave Phlox behind since he’d been stuck to her hip since she’d moved to Vail. She felt uneasy being alone but her Shadows were often to remind her they were still with her.

The deep rumbling of drums caused her to turn and look towards the doors of the Church. She felt her eyes prick and blur as she caught sight of her Aunt Zelda. Aunt Hilda was beautiful as she marched down the aisle in front of her sister, a grin gracing her face as she went forward. Samara was slightly confused as to why there was a strange girl walking in front of them but assumed she must have been related to Blackwood in someway to be a part of the wedding.

Aunt Zelda was a vision as she glided at the end of the small line. Her black and ruby dress accented her figure beautifully. The golden crown she wore was draped with a black veil both which caused slight want to well within Samara. Gold and black had always been her two most favourite colours. To see her Aunt adorned with them made her warm. Within her Aunt’s hands was the ceremonial blade. An intrinsic thing of beauty in and of itself. Never to be wielded for harm or battle, it’s sole purpose was for rituals like it attended now.

“In the name of Satan I call forth the demons who rule marriage and lust. Astaroth, Furfur, Hathor, and Ishtar. Saleous, Uvall, and Vassage. Be here and forge this union like fire forges the blade. Demons of the deep, accept this gift of blood.” For all that Samara hated the man, Blackwood could command his power like no Warlock she’d met. His voice reverberated throughout the Church and demanded unerring attention. 

Samara kept her focus off of him and instead continued to look at the visage of her Aunts. Aunt Hilda stood proudly by Aunt Zelda’s side. She made eye contact with Samara and her grin grew bigger. Samara could tell she wanted to wave, but couldn’t break the ritual. Aunt Zelda looked regal and proud. Her head craned high and a pillar of beauty. Her gaze was locked ahead. Samara knew that her Aunt was nervous and this was why she refused to glance around the crowd.

She saw the girl that had walked up the aisle take the dagger from Aunt Zelda. Samara watched with dispassion as she slit the throat of a dead animal and let it bleed into the chalice below it. As she handed the chalice to Blackwood, his words once again rang through the air.

“My bride and I will fortify our physical bodies with the blood of this sacrificed being.” Faustus and Zelda each took a sip from the chalice. Samara held in a squirm at the thought of having to drink straight blood. 

“The hand of my bride will now be sheathed with mine under the skin of a mortal. Hilda.” Samara’s Aunt Hilda wrapped the piece of flesh around Aunt Zelda and Faustus’ hands. Samara wrinkled her nose as she could hear the flopping and squelch of the flesh.

“Now, Sister Zelda, in the name of Satan, you shall respect me, obey me and submit to me. As Lilith served Satan, so will you serve me. You will forsake all others, lift me up and exalt me for all eternity. And now by the onholy power invested in me-” Samara felt her teeth grind at how misogynistic the vows were. But before Blackwood could finish his vows he was interrupted.

“Murderer!” Samara whipped around at the familiar voice that shouted. She felt all the blood in her body rush towards her feet and her chest seized with grief and disbelief. Her believed dead Uncle and Aunt, soaked to the core with water and faces pruned almost beyond recognition, stormed through the doors of the Church. She heard mutters of astonishment around her.

“It is I, Edward Spellman, returned.”

“And I, Diana Spellman, returned.” Samara once again felt tears threaten to fall as her hand rose to her lips. Their voices were just as she remembered, even if they held anger within them now.

“I accuse Faustus Blackwood, who brought down our plane that took our lives. I accuse Faustus Blackwood who killed the Anti-Pope while he slept under the very same roof. Confess Blackwood, or face my wrath!” Edward’s voice held just as much power as Blackwood’s. Samara could sense why her Uncle was held with such great esteem. The congregation murmured around them.

“Your wrath….Indeed. You forget girl. I knew your father. And whatever the circumstances, Edward Spellman would never disrespect our ceremonies and traditions as you do. And so this petty trickery comes to an end. Detegant istos ostenderet falsa.” Where Diana and Edward once stood, now stood Sabrina and Nick. Samara felt some betrayal cross her heart. Blackwood was right for once in his life. Even though Samara despised that her Auntie was marrying the worm, never would she think to sabotage the ceremony. To do so was to only invite in bad karma. Samara knew that Sabrina was raised with better judgement and respect than what she was currently showing. 

Samara watched the shock cross her Aunts’ faces as her cousin was revealed. She too felt shock as Blackwood called for his lackeys to seize both Sabrina and Nick. Satisfaction curled within her at Nick warning the boys off to protect both him and his girlfriend.

“I am Sabrina Spellman. I shall speak and I shall be heard. You, Faustus Blackwood, are a fraud.” Sabrina’s voice rang through the Church. While Samara was irritated with her cousin’s actions, she felt a low sort of elation as her cousin called out the man.

“Sabrina, what are you saying?” Samara felt herself cringe at the barely concealed rage within her Aunt’s voice. She grasped her dress that laid against her thighs and held it within tight-knuckled fists.

“I’m sorry, Auntie. But it’s true. He killed my father and mother, and I believe he killed the Anti-Pope too.” Sabrina’s words only caused Samara’s thoughts from the night before to feel more solidified. Again the Church was a buzz with murmurs.

“And why would I have done that?”

“Because you were afraid His Eminence wouldn’t approve your repugnant, misogynistic reformations.” Sabrina spat her reply.

“Which you haven’t even read, have you? Hm. Let it be known there is no proof to any of this. Yet your very own cousin was covered in His Eminence’s blood.” 

“Ambrose Spellman is innocent!” The shout echoed throughout the Church. The silence that followed was quickly cut short by the man in questions materializing on the altar himself.

“Die Blackwood! Die!” Ambrose looked like a crazed man with blood still saturating his clothes and a dagger in hand. The girl at Blackwood’s side froze Ambrose before he could commit the act he arrived to do. Blackwoods lackeys were quick to tackle and subdue Ambrose. 

Samara jumped to her feet and began to stagger forward to help her cousin but Nick grabbed her arm before she could continue. She looked on helplessly as they escorted Ambrose out of the Church. She wanted nothing more than to free him, but his recent actions only confirmed many suspicions the Coven held. It would take an Unholy miracle to help him now.

Samara stood at her Aunt and Sabrina’s side as they sat outside the High Priest’s office at the Academy. Her black coat was draped over her arm as her other hand picked at the skin of her thumb. Her gaze was locked on the carpet before her. Her thoughts were lost in remembrance of what happened the last time she was near this office. She felt her Shadows nudging against her back that was resting against the wall. She splayed her hand against the wall in reassurance to them. Before she could get lost in thought again, her Aunt Zelda stalked out of the office.

“Congratulations. You ruined my wedding day, Sabrina.” Aunt Zelda’s eyes were full of fire. Samara felt herself shrink away and her Shadows rise to shield her. Samara never dealt well with reprimand from her family. 

“Aunt Zelda-” 

“A day of greatness for the Spellman family shall now, instead, go down infamy.” Aunt Zelda always held public image on a pedestal. She was constantly worried about how the Spellmans were perceived in the Coven.

“Where’s Ambrose, Aunt Z?” Samara kept her voice soft as she peered at her furious Aunt.

“Your cousin has been thrown in the Witch’s Cell for his treasonous crimes.” Aunt Zelda’s voice was steady but Samara could detect a small amount of sorrow for her nephew.

“No!” Sabrina cried out.

“What of Sabrina?” Aunt Hilda finally spoke. Samara stole a quick glance at her cousin before focusing back onto her Aunts.

“She and Nicholas have been expelled from the Academy of Unseen Arts. And they deserve it. It was all I could do to convince Faustus not to lock you in the dungeon too.” Aunt Zelda’s words held all the disappointment she surely felt. Samara could only imagine how upset her Aunt truly was. 

“Well at least I stopped your wedding.” Samara closed her eyes at her cousin’s words. Some tact would’ve been nice at the moment but Sabrina had always been a bit thick-headed when other’s feelings were involved. 

“Oh! Stopped it? Sabrina, Faustus and I were just married in his office.” Aunt Zelda stalked away to the office as she finished her sentence. Sabrina, Samara and Aunt Hilda all stood, shock freezing them from moving.

#caos #Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #dark lord x reader #dark lord x oc #dark lord #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar x oc #lucifer morningstar x ofc #lucifer morningstar #oc #ofc #spellman #sabrina #hilda #zelda #ambrose #still hate tagging #fanfiction #fanfic

[itsdanystormborn]

MAGI 336 -The Unreasonable Destiny

Disclaimer: i only to this for fun, to share it with you guys, and to practice my japanese :) which is very basic so keep in mind that i could be completely mistaken in some parts.  This is just a fan translation of incomplete ( complete in this case i guess) spoilers so: Don’t forget to support the official releases of Magi!

Source: Pics from Tieba Baidu and  texts from Netabare ^^

PAGE 1

“Their ways of thinking were different. there was hostility between them before. nevertheless, despite the conflicts, they’ll keep on moving forward”

he became a god. the strongest of the comrades will challenge Sinbad.

NIGHT 336 “The Unreasonable Destiny”

PAGE 2

The fate of the world hangs in prepared and thoughtful sword fight!!

Sinbad: To lose against a 14 year old me in sword fight is out of the question, Alibaba!! Alibaba: Sinbad-san?! 14 years old?!

PAGE 3

Hakuryuu: this is not an ordinary dungeon Judal: what’s going on in this place?!

PAGE 4

Baal: “Baal” is the dungeon that was conquered by king Sinbad when he was 14 years old" “If you were to overcome King Sinbad,  that goes beyond King Sinbad’s seven convictions”. Aladdin: Djinn Baal!! Hakuryuu: Seven convictions!?

PAGE 5

Baal: That’s right, as djinns, we acknowledged king Sinbad… A man who climbed up to the seat of god with seven strong convictions....

Baal, Valefor, Zepar, Furfur, Focalor, Vepar, Crocell!!

Aladdin: in other words... if we want to stop the magic that will return all the world’s rukh, that means we have to bring down the seven djinn equips of Sinbad ojisan!

PAGE 6

Judal: what are you saying!? we are 4 people? Do you feel like fighting 7 rounds? Stupid Lord!!

Arba: Look look! if you don’t defeat the first one fast, the sun will set down!. At that moment, the magic that will return the rukh of the world will activate!

PAGE 7

Alibaba: i’ll do it...

PAGE 8

Netabare text: * Alibaba hits Sinbad violently*

PAGE 9

Alibaba: Amol Saika!! Sinbad: Bararak Saika!!

PAGE 10

Alibaba: !! Netabare text: * Aladdin helps with defense magic*

PAGE 11

Aladdin: Borg!!

PAGE 12

Netabare text: * Hakuryuu and Judar are the reinforcements, Sinbad is cut in half*

PAGE 13

Judal: right in half!! Hakuryuu: it’s 4 against 1, you don’t stand a chance. ( i’m sorry, i don’t exactly know what he means ^^ “shitai” also means “the whole body” i guess it’s some kind of pun because they cut him in half)

PAGE 14

*Sinbad’s body goes back to normal*

Hakuryuu and Judar: WHAT?! Sinbad: i want to ask you!!! Alibaba and Aladdin: !!?

PAGE 15

Sinbad: should we succumb to this unreasonable destiny? or should we destroy destiny by force!? Judal: what? what nonsense are you saying all of sudden!? Sinbad: My hometown was a hell burning for war! in order to change that i conquered the dungeon. it is absolutely impossible to solve this just by means of human good will, but this is how it exists in the imperfect world of king Solomon… one more time, i ask you…

PAGE 16 Sinbad: Should we succumb to this unreasonable destiny!? or should we destroy destiny by force!? i, Djinn Baal, accepted Sinbad… the conviction of wrath and heros!!

Baal: this is a trial decided by the god of this world, by no means can you settle this just by killing each other!!

PAGE 17

Hakuryuu: it can’t be determined you say? well then… Alibaba: are you saying that until we prepare an acceptable answer to Sinbad- san’s question, it doesn’t matter how much we fight, this won’t end!? Aladdin: although there are 7 dungeons…

PAGE 18

Judal: wrath and heros you say… hey, you guys..go ahead!

Aladdin: !? Judal-kun?

Judal: Because i’m the best choice to silence this raging brat!

...

To balance the fate… A question from god! In the midst of this fierce fight, what will Judal’s answer be?!

...

This was long, probably has some mistakes, sorry in advance and thank you so much for reading! ^^

#magi 336 #magi #magi spoilers #magi the labyrinth of magic #sinbad #judal #judar #alibaba saluja #aladdin jehoahaz abraham #ren hakuryuu #my translation #my magi translation