#he is unable to communicate this to Crowley however

[krummholz-go]

Doubt is the Essence of Faith - Questions, Prayer, and Crowley’s Relationship to the Divine

In the novel A Prayer for Owen Meany we meet a flawed pastor named Lewis Merrill who is suffering a crisis of faith. He believes that God has turned away from him due to his sinful thoughts and actions and that he is not worthy of forgiveness. As he silently wrestles with his personal demons, he preaches the most optimistic version of his belief to his congregation: doubt is the essence of faith, and not faith’s opposite.

In Good Omens, we see a similar theme play out throughout the series. While many angels and demons blindly order others or follow orders on the perceived will of the Almighty, it is those who question and who are open to questions who are ultimately closest to God. Let’s delve into the relationship between doubt and the divine, and particularly how Crowley fits into it.

God’s Presence in Good Omens

What do our characters know about God in Good Omens? For a world replete with angels, demons, heaven, hell, Satan, miracles, and nuns, there is comparatively little representation of God as experienced by the characters. (I am not counting the 4th-wall breaking narration from God in Season 1 since that is an audience-only view.) The characters of Good Omens see and hear very little from God, and the status quo is that God is distant, unreachable, unknowable - ineffible. As Crowley says, “There is just God, moving in mysterious ways and not talking to any of us.”

We only know of two instances where the characters hear from God: God speaks to Aziraphale when he leaves the Garden of Eden, and God speaks to Job at the end of his trials. The Metatron claims to be a conduit to God and to speak with Their voice: “To speak to me is to speak to God. I am the voice of the Almighty.” But the Metatron is not necessarily a reliable narrator, and even Aziraphale questions his claim by categorizing him more as a spokesperson. From an audience perspective, the more we see of the Metatron and his manipulative ways, especially when he is underscored by sinister music, the more it seems like he really speaks for himself.

Are You There, God? It's Me, Crowley

If God isn’t generally speaking to our characters, the reverse is also true. Communication is a two-way street and the characters in Good Omens rarely reach out to God. Prayer is conspicuously absent. Angels do not pray, nor do humans who come face-to-face with immortal supernatural beings. The Them, Anathema, Newt, Shadwell, Madame Tracy, the shopkeepers, Maggie, and Nina - not one of them engages in prayer when confronted with a glimpse into a world beyond their mortal sphere or even when facing Armageddon. We do not even see the Satanic nuns, a full on religious order, engaging in prayer to their dark lord and master.

While Aziraphale does not precisely engage in prayer, he does at least try to talk to God in Season 1 when he takes his concerns about Armageddon “all the way to the top.” The whole thing feels rather technical, however - more like a celestial phone call than a cry from his soul to the Almighty. When Aziraphale connects to heaven the exchange feels bureaucratic, beginning with him lodging a complaint about the conduct of Michael and the other angels. He is unable to reach God directly and at the end of the conversation, the Metatron “leaves the line open,” again more like a phone call than a prayer.

There are, however, three characters we see who engage in more traditional prayer. Job is the first character (chronologically speaking) we see speaking to God. Job is “literally God’s favorite human,” so it is unsurprising that he would commune directly. In his case it is unclear if he is actively engaging in prayer or simply receiving messages from God, but given that God starts off by saying “Job, if you have questions for me, I have questions for you,” it seems likely that Job is actively praying.

Jesus is the second character who prays. We briefly see him praying as he is nailed to the cross, entreating the heavens, “Father, please, you have to forgive them.” Again, this is unsurprising - Jesus is the son of God, has a direct relationship with Them, and is traditionally depicted as praying for the forgiveness of humanity while on the cross.

The third character who engages in prayer is… Crowley. In Season 1, Crowley turns his eyes heavenward and directly implores God not to destroy humanity: “Great Plan? God, you listening? Show me a Great Plan. Okay, I know you’re testing them, you said you were going to be testing them. You shouldn’t test them to destruction. Not to the end of the world.”

Crowley’s prayer is noteworthy when compared to what we see from Job and Jesus. For starters, it is significantly more substantial. By Crowley’s generally reticent standards it’s almost a monologue. It is also significant because instead of simply beseeching God, Crowley first questions God, then makes a demand, then suggests an alternative to what he believes God’s plan to be. Out of everyone we see speaking to God, Crowley has the most interaction and is also the one who approaches Them most like an equal.

In a second small example of prayer, Crowley says a quick “oh, God” under his breath in the confession scene after Aziraphale makes his heartbreakingly naive statement: “If I’m in charge, I can make a difference.” Here Crowley is subconsciously reaching out to God in his deepest moment of need, readying himself to try to salvage the future he sees going off the rails. He is the only main character we ever see directly reach out to God in distress.

Dangerous Questions

The characters within Good Omens share a common conviction that God is not to be challenged or questioned. In Season 1, Aziraphale is repeatedly told not to challenge God’s will via the Great Plan - after all, the war is to be won, not to be avoided. In Season 2 at the creation of the universe we see Aziraphale cautioning Crowley not to ask questions or make suggestions because it could get him into trouble. The baseline assumption is that doubting or questioning God can remove you from Their grace. Even Crowley believes that he was cast away from God because he asked too many questions. “That’s just how it started for me,” he tells Aziraphale in Job’s cellar as Aziraphale begins to question his blind loyalty to a God that would kill children. “See you in hell!”

It is also made clear that the angels and demons in charge of heaven and hell are not personally a fan of questions. In Season 2 we see the Metatron brooking no challenges from the archangels and sneering at Crowley’s history of “always asking damn fool questions.” In hell, Shax’s response to Eric’s repeated challenges and questions at the kick-off before the bookshop attack is to destroy him. Both heaven and hell are in the business of control - they give orders and expect obedience. Asking or answering questions only undermines their position of authority and control. But fallen angels, angels, and even the Metatron are not God and do not necessarily share God’s perspective.

Divine Questions

All evidence we have indicates that God actually loves questions. They sound delighted that Job has questions for Them, and They are definitely in the business of asking questions of the mortals They speak to. In fact, almost every statement we hear God make is in the form of a question. When They speak to Aziraphale, They say:

“Where is the flaming sword I gave you, Aziraphale, to guard the gate of Eden?”

And Their conversation with Job is almost entirely made up of questions:

“Do you know how I created the Earth? Where were you when I laid the foundations of the Earth, Job? Were you there when all the morning stars sang together and all the Angels shouted for joy? Do you know the rules of the Heavens? Did you set the constellations in the sky? Can you send lightening bolts and get them to report back to you? Did you give wings to peacocks, Job, or teach the ostrich to run?”

And interestingly enough, God is not the only divine entity to communicate through questions. When Satan appears at the end of Season 1, his dialogue is also almost entirely made up of questions:

“Where is my son? You? You’re my rebellious son? Come here. What? What did you say?

(As a fascinating side note, when asked a question about God in Good Omens on Tumblr, Neil Gaiman responded entirely with questions: “Does God know everything in this universe? Does God act on what God sees? Does God tolerate the behavior of her creatures?”)

In each of these examples we see that far from God being averse to questions, the act of questioning is integral to the divine. It is part of the process that God engages in when trying to make a connection. Job, as God’s favorite, is tacitly given permission to ask questions. Blind obedience is apparently not what is demanded - some measure of doubt, of questioning, is required to arrive at a sincere faith and relationship with God.

Crowley’s Relationship to the Divine

So how does Crowley fit into this? Crowley is a questioner at heart. From the beginning we see him asking hard questions. Standing on the wall of the Garden of Eden he immediately doubts the foundational actions he and Aziraphale have taken: “It’d be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one?” At Noah’s ark he peppers Aziraphale with questions about God’s intent, at the crucifixion he wonders what Jesus did to get everyone so upset, in King Arthur’s time he questions the value of what he and Aziraphale are doing as they cancel each other out, and on and on. Throughout this questioning he has little patience with the idea that the answers are unknowable. “Are you going to say ‘ineffable?’” he asks Aziraphale, witheringly, as he watches the Ark be loaded.

When it comes to his relationship with God, it’s clear that Crowley has many unresolved issues, particularly around the trauma of his fall and his separation from God's love. As many other people smarter than me have pointed out, his entire approach to plant care is simply a replay of his own trauma: identifying a flaw in a plant, expressing his personal disappointment in his role as houseplant God, holding it up as an example to its friends, destroying it/casting it out of its home, and threatening the remaining plants with the same fate if they don’t grow better. The bookshop fire is also experienced by him as a replay of his fall - the loss of someone he loves deeply, the fire itself, and even a physical fall when he is shot by a jet of water - that leads him to immediately get drunk and remember what it felt like to do a “million light-year freestyle dive into a pool of burning sulfur.” Crowley relives his trauma over and over.

As a result of this unresolved trauma, Crowley can have difficulty acknowledging the reality of his fall and his status as a demon. Sometimes he downplays the fall itself (“I didn’t really fall, I just, you know, sauntered vaguely downwards”) as well as his responsibility for it (“I just hung around the wrong people;” “All I ever did was ask questions”). From our first introduction to him he does not behave as other demons do, responding to a ritualistic demonic greeting of “All hail Satan” with an unenthusiastic, “Uh, hi, guys.” He deliberately distances himself from hell by describing himself as “going along with hell as far as he can.” And perhaps most significantly he sets himself apart from other demons with his love for the earth, its creatures, its people, and all the lovely, clever things they invent.

Just as Crowley has never fully embraced and integrated his transformation into a demon, he has also never fully abandoned his subconscious associations as a former angel. When we first meet him as an angel in heaven at the start of Season 2, we learn that he is architecting the universe by creating nebulas, stars, and proto-planets and see the pride and love he holds for his creations. When things get tough on Earth and Armageddon approaches, his immediate thought is to return to the vast reaches of space to see Alpha Centauri or one of the nebulae he helped build, the last place where he felt a part of creation rather than of destruction. Similarly, when Aziraphale forces Crowley into action at the airbase in Season 1, Crowley’s primal instinct is to stop time and transport himself, Aziraphale, and Adam to a place that looks remarkably like the featureless white of heaven. In a callback to his previous life as an angel, he then uses the crank from the Bentley to restart time the same way he used a crank to start the engine of the star factory (perhaps even the same crank). He is even still sensitive to blasphemy, chiding Aziraphale for saying “oh my God!” and is clearly awed by and envious of the sight of Job speaking with God. “Just to be able to ask the question,” he says, wistfully.

All of these interactions indicate that Crowley is not at peace with his current station, continuing to straddle a space in between angel and demon while wrestling with his past trauma. While there are times that Crowley leans hard into being a demon, he has many unresolved issues and doubts regarding his past life as an angel, the reality and meaning of his fall, and exactly what kind of demon he is now.

The Divinity of Doubt

So where does all this lead us as we enter Season 3? Crowley’s willingness to engage in direct prayer shows he is still subconsciously close to God. More than that, his propensity to constantly ask questions mirrors God’s behavior even more than God’s special favorites, Job and Jesus. Rather than being distanced from God by a tendency to ask questions, the available evidence points to questioning as being integral to a divine connection.

If anyone is to make a direct connection with God in Season 3, I predict it will be Crowley. His doubting, questioning nature is likely to be critical to the healing of his past trauma and the completion of his character arc. I would not be surprised to see Crowley get the opportunity “just to be able to ask the question” of God even if no direct answers are forthcoming. If doubt is the essence of faith, Crowley is well situated to to recover his - whatever that looks like for him - through the course of the final season.

#good omens #crowley #good omens 2 #good omens meta #gomens #essay #long reads #good omens season 2 #good omens s2

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! Thank you so much for this lovely blog. I'm wondering if you can suggest any disability fics? I read the angel and demon professors series with disabled Crowley and loved it so am especially interested in any fics with Crowley suffering from chronic pain or other disabilities perhaps causing his unusual gait (but other fics are welcome). I've looked through your Crowley's eyes tag and enjoyed those so looking for something else if possible. Thank you!

Hi! Yes, we have our #crowley’s eyes tag, and we have some chronic pain fics here. Here are a few more fics featuring chronic pain and physical disability...

The Road To Eden by Z A Dusk (T)

When new van-lifer Aziraphale starts feeling overwhelmed, he discovers the true camaraderie and friendship of the van life community. Before long, Aziraphale is finding his feet and his freedom. Could he also find romance with his new friend Crowley, a kind-hearted, free-spirited experienced nomad who takes a shine to Aziraphale?

and the punchline to the joke is asking SOMEONE SAVE US by Princex_N (G)

The fact of the matter is that Crowley was the first bitter cripple to limp across the face of this planet.

It's been 6000 years and things don't seem to have gotten much better.

How I Care for My Husband by MostWeakHamlets (G)

A.Z Fell Cooking uploads an unusual video. Instead of a new recipe, Mr. Fell shows everyone how he cares for his husband, Anthony, on his worst days.

Spring is around the corner, and Aziraphale is ready to see Crowley start to recover from his usual winter complaint. However, a new member of the family comes along, and it doesn't seem to be as smooth of a recovery as Aziraphale had hoped for.

Everything I've Had by AppleSeeds (M)

After developing a chronic illness that leaves him unable to live alone, Crowley moves back home to London where he reunites with his childhood best friend Aziraphale. Aziraphale helps to take care of Crowley and keeps him company while he's in bed, bringing them closer together and reigniting old feelings.

A Chance Encounter by MagnetoTheMagnificent (NR)

Ezra Fell is the owner of a bookshop, Anthony Crowley is a florist. They would never have met, until one day Ezra makes a terrible mistake.

All’s Fair in Love, War, and Show Business by sapphose (T)

Crowley is given one last chance to save his floundering acting career when he is offered a role in a new musical adaptation of the beloved book, "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch." Unfortunately, he'll be acting opposite Aziraphale, the ex he hasn't spoken to in over a decade and with whom he is definitely not still in love. When Crowley's past comes back to haunt him, he and Aziraphale must decide whether to repeat their actions from years prior, or to take their unexpected second chance and try again.

And the series you mentioned has to be...

Demon and Angel Professors by Ghostinthehouse (series) (G-T)

They're professors. They're married. Their students don't realise. Cue shenanigans.

Multiple short arcs with one-shots (and often pauses) between them. Characters continue from one arc to the next.

Any ambiguity between being human and being occult/ethereal is entirely deliberate.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #chronic pain #physical disability #human au #mod d

[snakes-sn-snails]

Tagging this as Good Omens because it will have spoilers, but really it is just some 0400 personal musings not particularly related to the show.

TLDR: Aziraphale regards the fallen the way well meaning Catholics regard ex Catholics and queers. Both Aziraphale and Catholics must realize that a being’s relationship with God does not determine their goodness.

I was raised Catholic. I spent every Sunday in a church until I became brave enough to lie to my parents about attending in my own time. I always attended Catholic schools where I wore skirts and debated homophobic teachers. I believed so deeply in this stuff that I was homophobic by default, and when my struggles with my faith began around thirteen I dug my heels in harder and tried to memorize the text better.

I’m not from either of the more liberal coasts either. No, it was the gulf coast with all of it’s delayed mental advancements for me, and I am of the age that I can remember being distrusted by my hetero peers parents by default, even though these peers wouldn’t realize their parent’s opinions until long after they had become more progressive. (That was a long sentence. I won’t fix it.)

I am now an adult on the NE coast where many of these issues are nonexistent. People act like my sexuality has never been an issue, and I’m dramatic for always playing defense. This hurts, and I’ve tried to open myself up more. Little things like not reminding myself how most people over forty would have treated me even ten years ago, and that a Catholic man isn’t an immediate threat.

But going to church will always be self flagellation that I only do willingly when I have begun to spiral.

So when a straight Catholic boy - a friend - whose personal desires have always aligned with what is expected of him tells me that homophobic interpretations of the Bible are false I get angry. He cannot understand it, but he is essentially telling me that my early deviation from faith was unnecessary because every trusted person who rejected me was just stupid. That I can easily come back to church, because that is not what our religion is about.

[Catholics and Catholic queers may wanna check out here. I’m never changing my stance on this book. (As a ward, I highlight that only a few examples of homophobia can be explained away as pedophilia in the Old Testament, but give you the fact that only one author thought to include a homophobic Jesus in the New Testament.) I’m also gonna keep using “slurs” in the rest of this, because the little “corporation friendly” labels are the ones that were used against me.]

So when Aziraphale made his offer to Crowley at the end of season two I really felt that rejection that hadn’t meant to be there. After all, my experience being ex Catholic and being queer are reminiscent of being “fallen” in two main ways:

1) The fallen depend on a savior to reinstate them

2) Being fallen indicates wrongness.

Az believes that Crowley remains fallen because Crowley is unable to return to heaven, and that Crowley wants to return. There is a good chance that Crowley did want to return in the beginning. He was a passionate angel, but was cast out of his community because he was too curious. Through exposure, Az has come to see Crowley’s curiosity is morally neutral, or even good. Az has personally decided this curiosity not a reason for an angel to fall. He fails to realize his personal acceptance does not change heaven’s stance, and that Crowley would still “deserve” to fall even if he is reinstated.

Crowley’s time on the outside, however, lead him to reject heaven in return. Crowley recognized that heaven has institutional problems, which lead him to realize the angel / demon binary is fabricated, as both commit the same harmful (and sometimes good) acts, but these acts are labeled just when authorized by heaven. Az, along with most angels and demons, do not do not see how this binary does not reflect reality, and nor do they see that the flaws are institutional as opposed to being cause by “a few bad apples.” Hence why Az accepts the leadership role.

In a similar vein, my friend believes that the only reason I am not Catholic today is because I was burned in my youth, and I should ignore the homophobic passages in the text as he has. Similar to Crowley, there was a point when I did desire acceptance, but my time in high school completely changed this. Religion classes revealed to me the depth to which I was an interloper no matter how much I worked to hide my queerness. Each challenge I made in religion class was answered, and further analysis of the text made it clear that the church is fundamentally against faggots like me. (I did actually have a teacher who was homophobic, but not transphobic, as she is also literate.) My rejection made me critical, so I started looking for the cracks in the Catholic church, and, my God, there are many. Too many to list here, so check the news if you want further reading.

Az’s offer for Crowley to be reinstated also reminds Crowley that his fallen status makes him damaged in Az’s eyes, and no amount of good actions or time can change this. The only thing that can fix Crowley is to become an angel again, and rejoin an organization that Crowley knows is just as evil as hell. Az saying “I forgive you” in response to Crowley’s kiss solidifies this belief, regardless of Az’s intentions in this scene.

This scene connects with me on multiple levels. In relation to my friend, who is honestly a representation of most beloved Catholics in my life, the infrequent suggestions that my faith has any positive influence on my morality ranges from deeply hurtful to rather laughable. Still, when someone believes that goodness can only come from a God who had a bear maul 40 children, I know my attempts to be just will never be fully appreciated.

The second reason this scene hit me is because of its parallels to homophobia - possibly internal homophobia - in the church. A masculine presenting heavenly angel offering forgiveness after being kissed by a masculine presenting demon, after everything these two have been through is too on the nose. [I am going to continue to write this with the assumption that the plot going forward will not have either character on the ace spectrum. This plot would call for a slightly different analysis.] Their relationship is on thin ice as it was, but to acknowledge that there are romantic feelings interlaced in requires forgiveness. This is similar to the stories I’ve heard and the lessons I was taught, where two queer people may maintain a close, friendly relationship so long as there is no physical aspect. This is similar to the idea that being gay is perfectly fine God’s eye, it is acting on these feelings that is the sin.

Az and my friend were labeled good so they have no reason to question these organizations. It is us outsiders who carry the burden of knowledge that the world is not black and white. Most folks aren’t even “dark grey” or “light grey.” Goodness and badness exist on a spectrum, and angels / demons as well as Catholics / non Catholics are equally capable of doing good and bad. Furthermore, doing something evil in the name of God will never be right, (though I do not offer much of the same criticisms to those who do good in the name of evil). 

As sexy as it is, I believe the angel / demon dichotomy will need to fall away in the third season. There are too many instances of these beings not fitting their labels, and one successful (key word o_o ) example of these being putting aside their differences in favor of acceptance and understanding. Most importantly, Az must give up the label of angel and have his goodness stand for itself. [I just read the theory that Az did this to save Crowley and have adopted it into my truths. My analysis still stands, as Az still believes the divide between angels and demons is a moral one.]

#good omens #margot stuff

[tragedytells-tales]

Twst OCs

( Vice Headmage & Housewardens )

Vice Headmage:

"Is there something you need? I'm always happy to help with anything you require, it is my job after all. In exchange for proper thanks, that is."

Name: Ambrose Majesty / Majesty ( Age: "You should never ask a king his age!" / Birth?: 6.5 / Twisted from Wish )

Occupation: Vice Headmage of NRC

Description: The kind, considerate, and well liked vice headmage of NRC who is the exact opposite of Crowley in every way. He's mostly calm, caring, and a little smug. He tends to adress the students as his royal subjects. He's far more diligent over his care for the school than his counterpart, but his suprisingly laid back nature makes him appear easy going. He even tries not to be strict with the students or staff too often.

[ Appearance ]

Height: 6'3

Skin: Pale

Hair color: White with streaks of gray

Hair style: Slicked back

[ Unique features ]

Crown: He has a tiny crown he normally wears that's not unlike Riddles, but has green crystals that decorate it. Some say that they can occasionally hear whispers or see faces in the gems, but he doesn't know what they're talking about.

Freckles: His freckles look like tiny spots of glitter or stars that decorate his face, they say that whenever someone makes a wish he gets a new freckle.

Staff of Magic: A cane sized white metal staff with a glowing diamond at the top. No one, not even Crowley, knows where it came from. But everyone knows not to touch it.

Unique Magic: [ Forbidden Thanks ]

Using the power granted from an unknown origin, he has the gift to fulfill anyone's wish. Whether it be deep a hidden desire or a simple one off thought, he can grant it with a wave of his hand.

[ Fun fact: He has a connection with the G7 and also other Disney villains that he never really talks about unless someone mixes them up. As in: "If you saw Ursula's face in the green magic I was talking to, no you did not‼️Because that was Madam Mim." ]

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

Housewardens:

"The shape of thy soul… it's ever-changing… flush with cool waters and in tune with mother nature… yet flamed… burning with fires hot enough to rival magma with the right to rule… unstable…

Freedom ran…

You are the housewarden of Motunui Dorm."

“This is deeefinitely more of a bother than I signed up for. Leader has to lead, I guess.”

Name: Kaiamana Waiola ( Age: 16 / Birth: 6.25 / Twisted from Moana )

House: Motunui Dorm ( Housewarden / Grade: Freshman )

Description: Housewarden of Motunui Dorm and a surprisingly dedicated student, that is, when she wants to be. Her extremely, extremely, laid back nature also pours into her role as a housewarden and into the Dorm members.

Overblot theme: How far I'll go / I am Moana epic orchestral

[ Appearance ]

Height: 5'9

Skin: Tan bronze

Eyes: Deep brown

Hair color: Dark brown

Hair style: Wavy, half up into a messy ponytail and half down. Two free strands of thick hair frame her face

[ Unique features ]

Earrings: Her earrings are tan and fray out at the ends.

Necklace: She wears a, normally green, necklace that's shaped like a gem. The necklace will change depending on what element she's speaking to or controlling.

Unique magic: [ Maui's Heart ]

Using the power of Ta ka's Heart, Kaia's unique magic grants her the ability to communicate with any element nearby and make it her companion.

Depending on whether the element allows, or Kaia forces it, the element will fall under her control during battle or just for fun.

However, in order to prevent overblotting, Kaia is only able to control one element at a time. Although communication is still fair game.

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

"The shape of thy soul… it's fluttering… flowing in the musical winds of change and time… yet ensnared… barred behind the jails of fear and control… unable to let go…

A candle that never goes out…

You are the Housewarden of Phoebis Philea Dorm."

“If you can’t get your magic under control then I suppose I can help with that.”

Name: Alroy Madrigal ( Age: 16 / birth: 9.12 / Twisted from Encanto )

House: Phoebis Philea Dorm ( Housewarden / Grade: Freshman )

Description: Housewarden of Phoebis Philea Dorm. A strict, strict, and selfish student who runs his Dorm with an iron fist. One of the most magically talented students, but also one of the most ruthless in terms of the standards he holds for himself and others.

Overblot theme: We don't talk about Bruno epic orchestral

[ Appearance ]

Height: 5’10

Skin: Dark brown

Eyes: Brown with a golden glimmer

Hair color: Black

Hair style: Down and curly with two braids that frame his face

[ Unique features ]

Glasses: Black framed, square lens glasses. Although, these glasses are fake and he only wears them when he's not in his dorm.

Golden eyes: A golden glimmer shines in his eyes when he uses his unique magic. Or when the sun hits them right.

Unique magic: [ Gift - Extinguish flame ]

Similar to Riddles, this spell is used to strip someone of all their magical capabilities. Or so everyone, including Alroy, thinks.

What the spell truly does is strip someone of what gives them passion and joy. It just so happens that most people in his dorm naturally gravitate towards magic.

The passion will then be turned into a candle, and the spell will break once the candle is blown out.

However, to prevent overblotting, Alroy can only have a certain amount of candles burning at once. If he did go over the limit, the candles would turn into butterflies that Alroy controls at the expense of losing control of himself.

What Alroy doesn't know is that he also has the ability to grant people new passions and help strengthen magic, he just never tried.

------------------------------------------------------- "The shape of thy soul…it's trapped…strained in barbed wires and stained in poisoned ink…yet strong…an eternal fire that burns everything in its path…embracing chaos in ways unpredictable… unprecedented…

powerful…

You are the housewarden of Alirusful Dorm."

“Where did Nein run off to this time? Oh well, I guess I can handle this just this once…”

Name: Ajay Lee ( Age: 16 / birth: 12.25 / Twisted from Turning Red )

House: Alirusful Dorm ( Housewarden / Grade: Freshman / knight in training under silver )

Description: A knight in training with a heart of stone, despite their overly avoidant nature. Barely expressive, blunt, and hard to read to strangers, they keep anything that could be seen as vulnerable abouts themself in check. However, their loyalty to others is unwavering, especially their twin sister and three guardians.

Overblot theme: Megalo strike back epic orchestral

[ Appearance ]

Height: 5'10

Skin: rich mocha

Eyes: Heterochromia, half brown and half red

Hair color: A bright red that ombres to purple, but can sometimes change colors

Hair style: half up in a high ponytail and half down, but it can range from day to day

[ Unique features ]

Freckles: glittering freckles litter their face, but they normally cover them up with makeup.

Piercings: They have a nose ring and ear Piercings that resemble fire or music in some way, but they normally don't wear them.

Makeup: Dark eye makeup such as deep purple smokey eyeshadow with a winged liner.

Unique magic: [ Panda Blessing ]

An unpredictable surge of magic that takes a seemingly infinite number forms as it overflows from them.

Depending on what emotion is ruling and how strong it is, Ajay's magic will have a range of forms when they become emotional.

However, in order to unlock its full range and to prevent overblotting, Ajay must say the phrase "on your guard!"

Although, for unknown reasons, between Nein and Ajay the latter is the only one of the two to have their panda locked away. The gem that holds the panda is a red sword that hangs on their hip.

Ajays magic: [ wild heart ]

[ florafide ] When startled or frightened, vines will bloom around them and flowers that spray colorful dust will sprout from their hair. ( These disappear once Ajay has calmed down or is no longer frightened. - hair color pink to light pink )

[ spark of joy ] When excited or overflowing with joy, little lighting bugs that function as companions will appear around Ajay and hang around for as long as they're excited. ( the number of these lightning bugs will grow in size depending on how much they're able to hold back, sometimes coming in full swarms! - Hair color red to orange )

[ unusual chains ] when frustrated or grumpy, shadowy tendrils will begin to lash out around them in a circle, harming whatever or whoever made them frustrated. However, if they're grumpy, the shadowy tendrils will latch onto them instead. ( they disappear the moment Ajay has calmed down. - hair color black to dark purple )

[ eye for curiosity ] When curious or inspecting something, Ajay can teleport closer to the object in the blink of an eye, sometimes even teleporting over rivers or through walls. ( This can only happen if Ajay is extremely curious and simply cannot resist the urge to wander off. - hair color purple to light purple )

[ man's best friend ] When sad or low in spirits, an intangible spirit will appear by their side and keep them company until they wave them away, which then causes them to explode. Some say these spirits will take the shape of people not even from their world, but no one can prove it. ( The moment Ajay is no longer sad, the spirit will either explode into glitter or dust or simply become a companion for a short amount of time. - hair color blue to white )

[ On your guard! : Red Panda ]

When releasing their unbridled rage, a multitude of things will happen as they transform into a red panda or a fire fox. Depending on how angry they are, their panda will range from simply a few inches taller to the size of the dorm house itself.

When they attack, different things will happen at random. A bolt of lightning may shoot out of their chest, any magic used against them may become absorbed and used against their opponent, any weapons they summon will hover around them at their command, their fur will light on fire as they begin to breathe it as well. ( This can only happen when Ajay is visibly angry and shouts "on your guard!" ) - this was specifically noted down by Ace Trappola

These are the only ones that other students, staff, and house members have seen and taken note of. There are rumors of many other forms their magic has taken, but no one has been able to prove that they actually exist.

However, many have noted that once Ajay activates "on your guard", their magic seems to get even more intense than it already was. At times, producing a different result entirely.

The only warning someone will get before their magic overflows is the ombre of their hair changing colors.

#[ 🎞 ] organization #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc

[shroudcore]

Speak now, or forever hold your peace. (II)

Summary: You crash the wedding with Grim and Ortho. Unlike the others, proposing isn’t on your mind. You come with a very different approach. 

An angstier take on Ghost Marriage. Idia x GN!reader. Reader is MC, or takes the role of MC in this story. (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Warnings: none

If the students of NRC thought they’ve seen Eliza at her angriest, they were wrong. The fury she displayed now was incomparable. While Idia fawned over your dramatic anime-worthy entrance, the new interruption was getting on her last ghostly nerve.

“Guards! Seize them!” she roared. Immediately, the ghosts went into action. Idia held his breath as he watched the obedient ghosts charge at you, Grim, and Ortho. He hoped you didn’t barge in with no plan. If you didn’t come equipped with useful items, you would end up like everyone else. 

Chubby, determined to get rid of the intruders that caused distress to his beloved princess, was eager to get rid of you. (”Simp”, Idia muttered) However, eagerness wasn’t enough against an opponent equally as determined. As soon as he got too close, an unknown force threw him backwards to where Eliza floated, shocking the princess.

“Chubby! Are you alright?”

Idia, on the other hand, was elated. 

“Th-that’s so OP!” he exclaimed. He knew you heard him, because your gaze flicked to him for a split second before looking away. Embarrassed, Idia shut his mouth. He’d expected at least a smile. 

After Chubby’s failed attack, other ghosts attempted to face your group. They only met the same fate. Confused, they could only pay their apologies to the princess and watch on in helplessness. Just what did you have up your sleeve? Who did you get such an SS-tier item from?

“Princess, it’s impossible to stop them!” the last of Eliza’s guards told her. For the first time that night, she looked afraid. 

Grim guffawed, while you smirked. A familiar look. It was always there before you jumpscared an enemy, or before you checkmated a poor opponent. Idia might have thought it was kinda hot. At the moment, he was oblivious to his gaping mouth, and how wildly his hair blazed. What were once lightly blushing tips were now an alarming red—a level of ferocity never seen from him before. 

“You can’t touch or hurt us!” boasted Grim, a devious smirk on his face. “We had some he—mprfgh!” He was abruptly cut off by Ortho’s robotic arm covering his mouth. Idia’s brother shook his head at your noisy dorm mate. 

“Release my big brother now!” he demanded. Idia grimaced, but didn’t feel too worried. As long as Ortho was with you and your anti-ghost protective shield, he would be safe. 

As expected, the ghosts were affronted. 

“How dare he order the princess like that?”

“You ought to be punished for your insolence!”

“To intrude on a royal wedding and speak disrespectfully! 

“Send them to the gallows!”

One talked, and one talked over the other. Soon, all that could be heard was an unintelligible susurrus of disembodied voices. One ghost had enough of it, and shouted to Eliza: “Princess, the kiss! Do what must be done!” 

“NO!” You and Ortho yelled at the same time. You continued to walk towards the makeshift altar as your two companions followed close behind. Ghosts rushed to block your path, but you pressed on as your invisible shield threw them back. It looked absolutely badass. Well, anything you did was cool to Idia, anyway. 

 “Out of my way!” You commanded, strong and unwavering. He’d seen you annoyed and angry before, but never up to this point. It basically radiated off of you that a danger warning could be floating above your head. 

“S-so intimidating... “

“So scary!”

Sure, this wedding crasher looked like you, but something was different. An unexplainable sinister aura wreathed you tonight. Was it your glare, or was it that regal suit you wore? Idia must have been too distracted by you, that he only noticed now how your cape seemed to drag shadows with it. You were a villain... much like one of the villains from his video games! And something else that was familiar. 

Whatever it was and wherever it came from, there was a menacing presence in the hall tonight. 

All were silent, except for the wind whistling through the hall. If one listened more carefully, they would hear drowned-out cackles. But it is just the wind, right?

“Wh-who are you?” Eliza finally asked. The ghosts who were ashamed at being unable to seize you began to form a protective ring around their princess. Eliza herself, Idia noticed, was starting to curl in on herself—her presence shrinking the closer you approached. “What do you want?”

“The groom,” was all you said, staring her down as if eyes alone could exterminate the ghost in front of you. 

“Idia?” she asks weakly, glancing at her tied-up groom. Idia said nothing and did nothing but look at you, attempting to telepathically communicate his panic. You barely even looked at him. 

“He’s mine.” 

Hold up—?

More gasps and chatter. They sounded less like whispers and more like the buzzing insects he heard whenever he snuck out at midnight. The world spun. Idia stared at you open-mouthed. 

If he were asked to describe his state of mind at this moment, it would be similar to a loading screen. Suddenly, everything you did together played back in a 1.75x supercut sequence. 

Mine. 

Mine. 

Mine.  

“Wh-what?” Eliza sputtered. “What do you mean?” 

You answered her, voice losing the steadiness it possessed just moments ago. “You have the man I love.” 

Wha… 

KDJAFCKSAJHDKACBSXCJSIEUDS?

Idia.exe has crashed. Reboot? 

~~

The audience’s reactions were varied. Some students on the floor were amused by the spectacle and could have used some popcorn (and a comfortable position) during these times. Some were horrified and disappointed by the idea of the prefect being in love with Idia Shroud the shut-in. Some were much too confused to feel anything. 

“Pardon…? What did I just hear?” Azul asked the floor.

“Puppy love,” Lilia wept, sniffling very loudly. “You know, this reminds me of when I was young...” 

“Whaddaya mean when you were young?!” Floyd snapped. His irritability had spiked up even more when you arrived. His position prevented him from witnessing the events. Everyone on the floor could feel his bad mood rolling off of him in waves. 

“Hey! Watch your tone when speaking to Lilia!” scolded Sebek. 

“... Are they acting?” Leona mumbled. 

“Oh, this better be an act.”  said Vil.  “... though it does not seem to be.” The last part of his observation remained unheard by anyone else, except for Rook. 

“I believe we are witnessing a genuine love confession,” added the Chasseur d’Amour himself, voice soft as he sighed dreamily. “Engrave this moment into your memories, everyone! We are fortunate to witness it…”

But no one shared his enthusiasm about the situation. The others expressed their displeasure by groaning and complaining. “... well, even in this state we are in?” he added as a follow-up. 

~~

Reboot. 

You once fell asleep on Idia’s shoulder after finishing a movie. It was something you both only watched to make fun of, but you were apparently too tired to give your top-tier jokes and meme references. The contact sent his heart into overdrive as he froze, begging for option boxes to appear and help him. The flames of his hair blazed so brightly that it woke you back up. It was embarrassing, and sometimes he would remember it late at night and cringe. 

It was happening again, but worse. Any moment now, he was sure that he alone could burn down the cafeteria, if not the whole school. This was stupid. Why did he get that worked up over an obvious act? A mere ploy to get the ghosts to release him?

Reality catches up and deals him triple attack damage. Crowley probably put you up to this. You were probably annoyed that you were forced to do this, weren’t you? That’s why you couldn’t even look at him. It had to be the cruelest joke that fate ever threw his way. 

“I can’t say I don’t understand you, Princess,” you tell Eliza, forcing a smile. “Idia is perfect, is he not?” He felt your eyes on him. This time, it was he who couldn’t quite meet your gaze. Looking down at the floor was all he could do; it couldn’t judge his blushing face. Only when the warmth in his cheeks faded did he feel it safe to look back up again. 

“You see him, don’t you, Princess?” Your voice began to falter, losing the confidence and authority in it that scared the ghosts. “He’s so much more than what everyone else thinks! We agree on that, don’t we?”

Eliza’s face softened, nodding. “Yes. I’ve seen how these people insult him!” she tells you, gesturing to the ‘failed princes’ on the floor.

“But we’re still different,” you stepped closer, but still far enough so that your invisible anti-ghost forcefield wouldn’t activate. “You don’t want to marry Idia, you want to marry your fairytale prince.” 

Eliza appeared to be genuinely confused. She looked around at her companions, before turning back to you. “What do you mean?”

“You’re in love with your ideals, not the person himself,” you explain. “You only chose him for his appearance. Am I right? His personality, likes and dislikes, and possible flaws don’t matter to you.”

Eliza seemed deep in thought. While she was silent, you release a bitter laugh and threw your hands up.  “I mean, do you even know what his favorite candy is?”

Pomegranate drops. You asked to have some, but he refused to give you any. He wouldn’t tell you why, but he let you assume it was his favorite and didn’t want to share because of that. 

That wasn’t it, though. Maybe he’d tell you once you were both out of here. 

“You’ve never stayed up until 4am just to join him on a raid!” You waved your hands wildly, lost in your rant. Whether Eliza understood you or not, you seemed to have stopped giving a damn. 

“Weak!” he teased, noticing your drooping eyelids and reduced concentration. Deep down, he felt bad for keeping you up late.  “Look, it’s fine if you need to rest.”

“Nah, let’s finish this. What are you going to do without me?” you replied, smirking.

“You don’t even have 4-hour conversations with him on Magicord VC like I do!” 

It lasted up until 3am. You two were laughing at memes. He could hear a groggy Grim complain in the background about the noise. 

“Alright. Here’s a question, princess. How much would you risk for the man beside you right now? Bet that’s where we’re different...”

Eliza’s gaze darted back and forth between you and Idia. Even the other ghosts were silent, waiting for your next words. 

“... because if you ask me, I would risk everything! That’s why I’m here wearing this stupid suit!”

It’s not real. It’s not real. The emotion behind every word was a punch to the gut. If you kept this up, he might need a healer soon. Ever since he realized he was falling, he tried to quell the sparks of hope you ignited whenever you did something nice for him. All that hard work was gone. Each word you uttered was gasoline. 

“To think that if I arrived minutes later… th-that I would never see him again!” A sob escapes your throat, your intimidating persona crumbling.

No, don’t do that. Idia wanted to reassure you that he was still there and he was okay, but he couldn’t. It’s part of an act. It’s part of an act. 

“So please… just let him go.” The front you wore has completely dissolved. There you were, reduced to a sobbing mess in front of a ghost princess and the students of NRC. 

You weren’t the only one. All traces of anger or fear have vanished from Eliza’s face. Instead, she put her hands over her mouth. The princess had been moved to tears. Finally, she turns to Idia. “Idia, they seem to l-love you very much… ”

“That’s right.” You wiped your tear-streaked face and pointed an accusing finger at the ghosts. “And all of you! Are you going to enable her forever? Encourage her shallow ideas of what love should be?” 

They all looked down, unable to meet your eyes. 

“You have no right to just snatch him up and claim him as yours,” you told Eliza with an unfaltering resolve, despite your tear-covered face and your crumbled front of strength. “Did you never think… that there could have been someone waiting for him to return?” 

“I-I never meant to!” Eliza cried. “I was so blinded by my own happiness. I never thought… never even considered…” 

“Princess, it’s alright. We all make mistakes.” Chubby told her, trying to be reassuring. 

“Tell me, intruder. How else am I going to find my prince?” she asked you with no trace of hostility. You stopped for a while, staring at her. 

You must not have expected the question. Idia saw you look at him—it was the longest time you’d looked at him all evening. Clearing your throat, you began to explain. You fumbled a bit, scratching the back of your neck and tugging at the hem of your coat as you explained what a perfect partner should be. 

As you spoke, Idia was enthralled by your voice and most of all, the knowledge you possessed about love and romance. He hadn’t seen this side of you before. How did he ever think that a hundred dating sims could make him a romance expert?

“Is that so?” she sighs, bowing her head. “I understand now. I’m so sorry… for causing you so much grief.” 

She turns to her companions, giving them a sad smile. “There’s only one thing to do. Everyone, we must stop this wedding.” 

Idia wanted to fall to the floor in relief. At least a few exhausted sighs and weak cheers could be heard from the wedding “attendees”. You fell to your knees, exaggerating your gratitude. 

“Thank you, princess!”

“But Princess… what about your happily ever after?” Chubby interjected. 

“I can’t tear two lovers apart!” Eliza wipes a few of her own tears, then turns to you. “I was deeply moved by your words. I dream of having a lover like you,” she sighs dreamily, probably imagining her future lover already. 

While the students of NRC rejoiced at this victory, Idia’s heartbeat quickened in fear. What if Eliza decided to take you for herself?

“Princess…” Chubby muttered, sighing. Eliza only gave him a reassuring smile. Phew. Idia relaxed, grateful that she doesn’t have the idea… yet. He didn’t know what to do if that thought became reality. 

Eliza turns to address the hall with a smile. “I have decided.” Everyone waited with bated breath for her announcement. Idia squeezed his eyes shut and silently urged her to announce their departure already. 

“Idia and I will not be married anymore. She smiles wide, and clasps her hands together. “However, there will still be a wedding!”

Your smile faded. “What… what do you mean, princess?”

She beams. “To make up for my mistake, I will make sure that Idia and his lover are married tonight!” 

~~

To be continued.

Tagging: @teashopwritingzz @twistedcrumbs 

Well, that was long. To think that I was planning for the story to be a one-shot! Once again, keep an eye out for Part 3. Thank you for reading! 

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

#twst x reader #twst fic #idia x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #rewritten

[doughyinwonderland]

Scary Monsters ～Endless halloween night～spoilers (1-12 to 1-13)

Spoilers for 1-1 to 1-3 | 1-4 to 1-5 | 1-6 to 1-8 | 1-9 to 1-11

1-12: It can’t be settle with muscles!

Crewel says that he cast magic and enchant their costume so it has higher durability and are easier to move in. Crewel says to save their thanks to the Halloween committee members who prepared the costumes. Vargas barged into the mirror chamber in his Vargas Camp outfit as he wants lead the students to attack the enemy. Trein stops Vargas but before that, Vargas got bounced off from the mirror. Trein explains that the teachers are unable to enter the party as the invitation only extends to students. Trey & co then enters the scene in their Halloween outfits. Ace laments over the fact he has to wear the skeleton costume again. Trey comments that he looks good in it. Sam then appears with a huge wooden box that looks precious. Vargas says that it is very inconvenient as smartphones doesn’t work and groans that muscle can’t help in this case. Then he thought of an old magic tool from his hometown, which is a magic mirror (ref Enchanted Mirror in Beauty and the Beast). It was used as a form communication since the one holding it could see whatever they want. The mirror is connected to a smaller mirror that was made into a necklace. However, only the person with the mirror and necklace can contact each other, not necklace to necklace. Trein says that he used this magic tool with his wife when he was younger. Vargas then passes the necklace to the dorm leaders and their vices while the teachers will have the mirror as they will act as support.

1-13: Could this be...

Trein is worried about the remaining students. Ace says that they will take 1 year to depart if they stay and listen to him. He reassures Trein that no matter what happens, their tyrant- dorm leader is present. Everyone is hyped. Crowley says he will leave it up to them and says that the “HalloweEnding Squad” (Crowley made a stupid pun here, 終わらせ（たい）ー＞隊, He changed the last 2 letters of “owarasetai” to “tai” which means team/squad) is complete. Everyone thinks it’s very lame. Ruggie says he lost all his excitement from the pun. Rook is shocked because he thinks it’s a wonderful name and ask Chevalier Rose (Trey’s nickname) for his opinion. Trey thinks that his nickname is on the same level as the team name. Crowley then ask for them to bring back the other students and ask them to come back safely, and hopefully, Halloween will end. With that, everyone enters the mirror, leaving only the teachers. 

All of them were split up and transported into a monochrome world. Riddle, Ortho and Ruggie woke up together in a foggy graveyard. Jamil and Silver seems to be in a greenhouse/lab with tanks. Floyd, Leona and Ace were transported to a cave with shipwreck. While Sebek, Rook and Trey were outside with a castle on a hill looming behind them. 

#kztls #twisted wonderland #spoilers #endless halloween night #scary monsters

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Absence of Words (Sawdust of Words 12)

At very long last, we have a new "Sawdust of Words" story!

Absence of Words, 13.5k, rated G.

London Sunday after the Apocalypse

They've survived an attempted Armageddon and near-executions, confessed their feelings, and now Aziraphale and Crowley are ready to spend the rest of eternity together.

But thousands of years of abuse are not so easily shrugged off. If this is going to work, if they're going to last longer than a few hours, Aziraphale and Crowley will need to learn to communicate.

It may be their greatest challenge yet. -- This fic takes place immediately after the "love confession" story "Finding the Words," and is my first real exploration in the series of what 6000 years of abuse and unhealthy communication becomes when you're abruptly free of your abusers AND starting a new relationship on the same day. Spoilers: it goes badly.

(However, I assure you all - it does have a happy ending and they will get better in the future!)

I shared the first scenes a few days ago, so the excerpt below is from slightly later, 1.3k of Aziraphale settling his emotions upon returning to the shop after the extreme thrill of walking hand-in-hand with Crowley for almost an hour. Hope you enjoy!

(CW for references to Heaven's emotional abuse/manipulation/gaslighting, and particularly to the fact that Aziraphale is still thinking in the ways they conditioned him to)

--

Aziraphale pushed the door of his shop closed and breathed a sigh of relief. Home again. His own space, where everything always made a little more sense, felt a little more secure.

Despite the fire, everything was exactly as it should be. Every book, every figurine, every speck of dust perfectly in its place. Even the rug he’d moved aside to contact Heaven lay flat in the center of the floor where it belonged, as if the entire horrid day hadn’t happened.

He paused for a moment, fingers resting on a stack of books, and took another deep breath. He didn’t feel quite settled yet; a cup of tea would really help, though he wasn’t sure if he had the time to make one properly.

Fortunately, as an angel, he had other options.

His favorite tea mug already sat on the desk by his favorite chair. Perfect. A quick miracle filled it with warm black tea, a blend of leaves with a hint of roast chestnut, something a little sweeter but more subtle than sugar, and a few buds of chamomile and safflower petals to help him relax. Then he settled into the chair and took a slow drink, letting the flavors linger on his tongue.

Yes, precisely what he needed. A moment of calm amidst the whirlwind, something Crowley would certainly understand once he’d had a chance to explain properly. Five minutes and he’d be ready for whatever excitement the world threw at him, or that he threw himself into, as that seemed to be something he did now.

He wiggled his shoulders, burrowing more comfortably into his pillows, pleased at his own boldness, wondering what he should try next. He’d played football once, years ago, perhaps they could find some energetic youths and play a match. Or he could learn a musical instrument, spend a day as one of those street-corner musicians. Not that he’d ever really wantedto, but he could if he liked, and the possibility was thrilling.

Or he could do something really audacious, like run his fingers through Crowley’s hair. That possibility made a great deal of heat rise to his face as he eyed the sofa where the demon liked to sprawl.

As he did, Aziraphale noticed a few things out of place. Nothing major. The blanket, usually draped across the sofa, lay neatly folded over the arm. The odds and ends across his desk had been properly stacked. The nearest bookshelf had been re-organized so that the books ran from the smallest on the left to the largest on the right. Even this mug, he realized, hadn’t been used for at least two days and should be sitting spotless in its cupboard.

Several possible explanations came to mind, particularly that in recreating the destroyed shop Adam had put a few items in the wrong spots. But he knew Crowley had spent hours waiting here this morning. Perhaps he’d done a little tidying, then sat and made himself a cup of tea.

That brought another fascinating blend of emotions. A little alarming, to be drinking from the same cup. Not proper at all, in today’s society, though it would have been more acceptable in the past. But in modern society, there was something intimate about it. And he found he didn’t mind that at all.

Not intimate, Aziraphale thought, eyes drifting across the shelf again. Domestic. Now there was an interesting idea. Crowley making himself at home in the shop. Making himself a snack, lounging about and being rude to customers, doing his little cleaning routine when he felt nervous, helping himself to a glass of wine in the evening or padding around in bare feet after waking up in the morning…

Instinctively, Aziraphale clamped down on the whole line of thought, burying it, glancing about to see if someone had somehow noticed.

But…there was no one to notice anything. No one to worry about. Not now, not ever again.

I’m…free.

He set down the mug and pressed his hands together. He’d never really considered himself trapped in the first place. Yes, he’d needed to be careful to avoid notice, judgement, but that was his own fault for not being the right sort of angel, for failing to measure up again and again.

And yet. There was no longer any reason to be careful.

No longer any reason to lie.

That was all Crowley had asked, wasn’t it? That Aziraphale stop lying?

Honesty. Now there was his most audacious idea yet.

“I…” He put his fingers to his lips, not quite sure he dared. But he could. He could. “I…love…”

His voice hitched over the word, his mind filling with caution, with warnings not to go too far.

“I lo-love…” Why was he shaking? He could hardly be reprimanded for it now. “I love…Crowley.”

The name seemed to hang in the air, echo off the walls. This was madness, of course, he had taken no precautions. He had every reason to think Gabriel might come back, for a check-up, for some final business, and Aziraphale would — would disappoint him, and that was worse than any punishment.

Only. Only that didn’t matter, did it? What was Gabriel’s disappointment, compared to a garden, a bright sky, and Crowley leaning down to brush his lips…

“I…I love Crowley!” It came out louder and more defiant than he intended, as warmth and excitement rushed through Aziraphale. “I love him! And he loves me!”

He gasped, just a little, to hear it out loud.

He loves me.

Sinking back into his seat again, Aziraphale rubbed his eyes. The mask of calm that had carried him through the Apocalypse fell away, and now he found himself quite close to actual tears.

He’d wondered for so many years. 78 years, 3 months and 14 days, to be precise. Did Crowley love him? Could Crowley love him? Did he feel even a fraction of that powerful force that Aziraphale often worried would destroy him, destroy them both?

It frightened him, sometimes, the love Aziraphale felt, warm and insistent, brash and bold, at times quite needy. Nothing like the pure love of Heaven, patient and kind, austere and a little distant. Not something to be freely given in exchange for a smile or a box of chocolates, but something to strive for, to inspire one towards improvement, towards one’s best self.

He’d tried, of course, oh how he’d tried. Every assignment, every duty, pouring every last bit of himself into whatever they asked of him with such good intentions, hoping for a sign, a bit of praise, a brush of that loving warmth. He always failed, of course, flawed and imperfect angel that he was.

He couldn’t resent Heaven for holding that love in reserve; that, too, was an expression of love, for how could one grow and develop if everything were simply handed to one?

But it had been lonely. So very lonely for so very long.

Not anymore.

Crowley loved him, right now, with all his faults and flaws. He couldn’t say it — such was the nature of the Fallen — but love wasn’t about words. He could feel it in Crowley’s touch, hear it in his tone of voice, taste it in his kiss. And that was enough.

He treasured it so, that love, that trust that Crowley had shared with so few. It was Aziraphale he found worthy, Aziraphalehe gave them to, and Aziraphale would do anything to show they hadn’t been misplaced.

My best friend, Crowley had said; what could be more precious than that? A greater honor than Aziraphale had ever expected.

He just wished he could hear the words in a different tone of voice, one not laced with all-consuming pain and loss. Wished he could think of them without remembering how he’d sat there stupidly, a corporationless angel floating in a void, unable to offer any reassurance or comfort, unable to even let Crowley see his face. Useless, as he’d always been.

That, at least, ended today. He loved Crowley, he was with Crowley. Nothing would ever come between them again.

He wiped his eyes one last time and went to find Crowley’s surprise. And perhaps some biscuits for the road, one never knew when one’s…companion (even that word made him blush) might get hungry.

Read the rest on AO3!

Or read the whole series here!

As always with Sawdust of Words - mind the tags and CWs.

#good omens prime #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #emotional h/c #aziraphale #anxious aziraphale #asexual aziraphale #crowley #demisexual crowley #getting together #hand holding #kissing #post-almost-apocalypse #crowley loves aziraphale #aziraphale loves crowley #crowley loves his angel #queen lyrics #the bentley #crowley can't say i love you #heave is a cult #aziraphale likes crowley's eyes #happy ending #my writing #sawdust of words #good omens #ao3 link #ao3

[eganantiquus]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not quite. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[walpurga-nacht-academy]

Can I ask what types of relationships does your school and their students have with NRC and their students?

It’s here, and it’s a behemoth lol. Thank you very much for your ask, Anon! It ended up being super long, lol. 👀

WNA-NRC: The two have a long history together and are considered to be part of the top three magical schools alongside RSA. However, due to their similar values and principles WNA and NRC have always had more of a closer bond. The two schools have a ‘monthly campus visit’ policy in which students from both schools are able to make visits between campuses. WNA girls usually visit at the beginning of the month, while NRC boys return the favour at the end. The purpose of those visits is to have the schools maintain their friendly relationships with each other and observe the going-ons of each institution. NRC’s more modern approach has become of high interest to WNA, who’s more traditionally inclined, and their Headmistress has insisted very much on this bond being preserved even now. The schools are often considered ‘siblings schools’, with WNA being NRC’s sister and NRC being WNA’s brother. 

The students themselves have a much less formal relationship. WNA are stereotypically extremely shrewd and mischievous, a bundle of chaos hiding behind the face of an angel. They enjoy visits to the NRC campus because it gives them the opportunity to go wild and have fun, something that WNA’s more strict environment doesn’t permit them. Moreover, visiting gives them plenty of opportunities to create mischief and flirt with the boys there for their own amusement. 

Moreover, WNA also organises the Spring Debutante Ball every year in March which is an event that brings the three schools together for a night of socialising and dancing. The girls actually have a small notebook which lists all the boys’ charm points and use it as a means of choosing “targets”.

Ruggie, Jamil, Deuce and Jade ended up being extremely popular among the students population of WNA due to various reasons, while people like Leona, Malleus and Vil are considered part of the ‘look, but don’t approach’ category because they’re considered annoyingly difficult to deal with. 

During the Magift Inter-school Tournament between NRC and RSA, WNA girls are known to lead the chants for the two schools, with drums and megaphones, much like an ōendan. They also attend the VDC as spectators each year, and they look forward to seeing the boys perform songs and dances. 

Ursa Astoria: The Headmistress of WNA is familiar with both the Headmaster of NRC as well as its History teacher. Ursa’s more strict and formal approach often clashes with Crowley’s more laissez-faire attitude. Many have noted that they look eerily similar to a grandmother scolding her unruly grandchild when they interact, since Ursa is quick to lecture Crowley on not keeping a tight enough grip on his students and letting them run wild at school. “A little mischief is good to keep the heart young, but they should never need more than a glance to know when to stop.” However when she’s not scolding him, the two get along quite well, getting together for tea every three months or so. Crowley himself bends rather easily in front of Ursa due to the sheer power of her personality and presence. 

She and Trein know each other from when they were young, and he was her NRC escort during the Spring Debutante Ball. According to Alkin they even dated for a while but broke up due to their very differing personalities: him being a cat person, and she a bird one. The break up was amicable, and even to this day they remain good friends.  

Frau Perchta Yaga: Though she refuses to reveal how, it seems that Yaga is familiar with Crowley. Though they rarely interact, because Crowley goes out of his way to avoid her whenever he’s visiting WNA. 

Alkin: Crowley once mentioned that he does not get along with cats, and this applies to his relationship with Alkin to a certain extent as well. Though the two are not hostile to one another, Crowley gets rather irked by the way Alkin dismisses his presence or ignores him when he doesn’t feel like dealing with him. Alkin simply does not care much for the NRC Headmaster. Though the two seem to have a past together, neither really talks about it all that much.

Moreover, Alkin seems familiar with Lilia as well and on much more neutral terms. He does however comment that he finds it odd that the fairy would agree to pose as a high school student at his age.

Rosenhex

Traditionally Rosenhex students have always had good relations with Pomefiore, and it is especially true for this generation as well. The two dorms have similar attitudes regarding beauty and how to achieve it through hard work, however while Pomefiore specialises in potions and poisons, Rosenhex specialises in charms and enchantments.

The Prefect of this dorm, Rosalia, is a work colleague of Vil and the two have collaborated before on some modelling gigs and movies. Rosa admires him quite a bit because he is in a similar position to her (wishing not to be typecast anymore) and his refusal to take any more villainous roles has also inspired her to speak up and tell her manager she’ll be dropping the role of ‘Cherry’. The two have an amicable relationship that is mutually beneficial to both parties. 

Vil was also the one who introduced her to Jack, who is her love interest. Because Rosa wanted to audition for a role that required a ‘wild image’ she asked Vil for advice, who referred her to Jack suggesting that she observe him and his mannerisms since among the Savanaclaw dorm, he considers Jack the best example of what a proper beastman should be when portrayed in media. Rosa and Jack get along quite well, as both enjoy exercise and sports. It’s a typical teen romance and Rosa’s first actual crush that ends up going anywhere. Though for the longest time she was very scared of taking a step beyond ‘crush’ for fear of ruining their relationship, so it took Jack taking charge and confessing to actually make realise it was time to move to the next stage. 

Much like with Vil, Rosa seems to have a positive relationship with Rook, who does praise her for trying to adopt an image that tends towards ‘wild beauty’, saying that is also fantastic to witness. Among the many negative comments Rosa received on her Witch Dance performance livestream, Rook’s was one of the few positive ones.

She doesn’t have a good relationship with Cater on the other hand, since he constantly asks for a selfie with her due to her celebrity status. She’s left behind the image of ‘Cherry’ and so she doesn’t want to be associated with it anymore. 

Grimmaire

Traditionally Grimmaire students have had good relationships with the Octavinelle dorm, but the recent change in leadership has caused the Prefect, Blanche, to distance herself from it. She does not approve of their underhanded way of doing things, thus it seems that she’s become rather close to Heartslaybyul instead. 

Riddle is Blanche’s love interest and fellow study partner. The two met during his first year at NRC where during an Unbirthday Party, Blanche commented on the lacking form of the then Prefect who was unable to recite the 810 rules of the Queen of Hearts. After Riddle became Prefect he invited her back to Heartslaybyul to ‘wash’ the dorm’s reputation in the eyes of WNA. Because both are rather studious they often communicate with each other to discuss all sorts of ideas and articles. In typical Grimmaire fashion, Blanche left an encrypted note containing a riddle in one of the books she lent him and ever since then the two have started to talk to each other via this method. They enjoy this highly intellectual rapport they have with the other, even though it does take both of them quite a while to realise they’re romantically interested in the other.

More surprisingly, Blanche has a good relationship with both Ace and Deuce, but for completely different reasons. Deuce looks up to her as a fellow model students he wishes to learn how to emulate to make his mother proud. Ace initially considered her a stick in the mud, and overly serious, until she unexpectedly cracked a really good joke and he was blown away by the contrast. Now both of them look forward to her arrival but for entirely different reasons. Blanche herself is rather fond of them too, and even strives to tutor them sometimes, with Ace finds bothersome and Deuce appreciates very much. 

Kriegskald

Under normal circumstances, Kriegskald would get along best with Ignihyde given their interest in magical constructions. However, due to the girls’ forceful personalities and the boys’ more reclusive nature they tend to clash quite often. The fact that Kriegskald tends towards steampunk, while Ignihyde tends towards cybernetics also makes it more unlikely that they would get along. The current Prefect, Marcia, was initially interested in trying to recruit Idia as a sponsor so her broom racing career to take off properly, but has had no such luck, so she gave up and set her sights on somebody else. 

It just so happens that that somebody is none other than the heir of a multimillionaire family. Whenever Marcia visits NRC she always pays a visit to Kalim, to hang in Scarabia, enjoy the good food and try to talk him into giving her money and/or become her sponsor. Kalim himself seems quite willing to do so, since Marcia’s enthusiasm for flying is on the same level as his, so the two have a lot of discussions on this particular topic. Her attempts at getting him to sponsor her always fail however due to Jamil’s interference, who always reminds Kalim he can’t give out his money away like that just because someone asks for it. He and Marcia don’t have the most positive relationship as a result, with her complaining that he shouldn’t be so strict on Kalim, and him pointing out she just says that because she wants to scam him.

Another person Marcia keeps bothering about sponsoring is Leona, who as the second prince of the Afterglow Savannah should have the necessary funds to sponsor an athlete. She did not have much luck there either as Leona either completely avoids her, or pretends he’s in deep sleep when she does come across him. They have spent more than a few afternoons in this position in which Marcia patiently waits for him to wake up, while Leona actually falls asleep while pretending. Though he is annoyed by her persistence, he does find her efforts impressive in their sheer stubbornness.

Marcia has attempted to talk to Malleus on this topic too, but has always been stopped by Sebek, who yells at her about bothering the ‘Young Master’ and being a suspicious person. The two don’t really get along, as Marcia finds his constant interventions annoying, and Sebek is enraged that she would dare bother Malleus about this sort of thing. It’s generally a disaster when Sebek catches Marcia trying to get into Diasomnia.

Galdtrea 

Because plants are often used in alchemy, Pomefiore and Galdtrea usually have a positive relationship. However, the current Prefect seems to not be able to get along at all with Vil, due to their clashing worldviews. June has a similar opinion of his dorm as she has of Rosenhex: frivolous rich city kids who never worked a day in their life. The fact that Vil is on good terms with Rosa only strengthens her opinion and she tends to avoid Pomefiore and its students usually, since she flies off the handle easily. The only exception to this being Epel, who eventually becomes her love interest. She did not think much of him at first, as she considered him a mere scaredy cat, rich and spoiled kid, but was very surprised when he shot off at her after becoming angry enough. As fellow farmers they understand better than anybody what it means to struggle with hard work and responsibilities, so June feels like there is someone who finally understands what her struggles are. 

When coming to NRC she usually spends her time in the botanical gardens checking out the plants and planting techniques used there. Because she avoids Rook, since she thinks he’s creepy, she usually accidentally bumps into Trey, who she considers more bearable. Though she gets frustrated if they get on the topics of families, since his ‘Big Brother’ aura makes her incredibly annoyed. They usually just stick to the topic of plants as a result.

Another person June seems to potentially get along with is Jamil. I say potentially because while they seem able to bond over their shared helplessness in terms of not having autonomy over their own person, June gets annoyed by the fact that Jamil does not simply tell Kalim off when he’s being unreasonable. She does not understand Jamil’s loyalty to his family at all, and just gets annoyed at him not really doing anything about his situation. She’s very much ruled by her emotions so his calculated approach is not something she can resonate with.

Monarchia

Traditionally Monarchia has always been close to Savanaclaw due to their similar aesthetic. The two dorms are sufficiently wild that they mesh together quite well, and they are most at ease in each other’s company. Moreover, Monarchia girls are rather respected among the Savanaclaw dorm and often adopt a big sister-like figure to the boys. It’s most prominent with Monarchia’s Prefect who is also treated like a Big Sister by her girls. Diana’s wild tendencies and close connection to animals make her blend right in with Savanaclaw’s roughness. As a citizen of the Afterglow Savannah and a follower of pack hierarchy, she respects the Kingscholar greatly, and thus Leona by default. Though she claims she is a bit disappointed by how Leona doesn’t display the same ferocity he did three years ago since she considered it ‘beautiful’. Leona on his part says he dislikes being nagged like this, but also seems to appreciate the fact that Diana takes him as he is and doesn’t compare him to his older brother. She is also on good terms with Jack and Ruggie who she treats similarly to how she treats her younger brothers.

Because she is a big eater, she also frequents Mostro Lounge and ends up spending time in the company of Azul who is her love interest. Their first meeting was a disaster, with Diana calling him “a newborn calf” due to how unstable he was on his feet during his first year on land. Spurned by anger, Azul made it a point to try and get her to sign a contract to steal her magic and humiliate her in return, but it just lead to a game of cat and mouse which eventually resulted in feelings forming. Though he’s very much in denial about it for a long time. 

Diana also gets along quite well with the Leech brothers, in the sense that they recognise each other as fellow predators. The two are somewhat impressed by her utter fearlessness as not even Floyd’s threats of ‘squeezing’ her seem to have had any effect on her. Because she’s proving to be quite amusing they became fond of her, though that feeling is always subject to change. Floyd calls her ‘crocodile-chan-senpai’ and likes to bother her for stories about the beasts and monsters she tamed and fought throughout her life. He sometimes even listens to her requests, in the same vein he listens to Rook and Vil. Jade is amused by her sharp mind and killer instincts, and likes having discussions on various topics with her. They both like to needlessly grill Azul about his feelings for Diana for their own amusement.

Diana’s oddest relationship is with Rook, who seems to find her wild tendencies very charming and fascinating, while she’s annoyed by him due to the fact that he calls himself a ‘hunter’. Having had a bad run in with poachers in the past, she does not take kindly to people hunting animals for trophies, rather than sustenance. Rook’s presence makes her alert and cautious, and his general oddness just makes her more suspicious of him. Rook’s own fascination for her seems to stem from the fact that, as he puts it, her eyes occasionally sparkle with something inhuman in them. Like she’s more beast than human.

Oraluna

Traditionally, Oraluna has always had close ties with Scarabia, as both dorms have an interest in star movements and researching their patterns. While it continues to maintain them, the current Prefect, Cassandra, has shown interest in forging relationships with Diasomnia as well. This is mostly due to her vested interest in learning more about her fairy heritage and having heard that the future King of the Valley of Thorns is attending Night Raven she thinks it would be nice to be acknowledged by him as a fairy as well. Unfortunately, her shy nature makes it difficult for her to approach Malleus. She respects him greatly, to the point she idolises him, but it also means she finds in difficult to get along with him since she’s always worried about offending him by accident. So she tries to work up her courage to talk to him, while Malleus simply regards her as a bit odd, and is uncomfortable with the fact that she acts so scared around him. He merely wants to experience a normal high school life so he does not understand why Cass behaves as if he expects everybody to treat him in a special manner.

Cass also shows a lot of respect towards Lilia too, which means that she falls for his pranks rather easily. He always claims to teach her about fairy customs and traditions but he mostly makes up stories for his own amusement. Cass does not contradict his claims no matter how absurd they are, because she thinks it would be rude. On the other hand, she seems to actually consider Lilia’s cooking delicious which endears her to him greatly and makes him approve of her eventual friendship and relationship with his son. Out of everybody in Diasomnia, Cass feels closest to Silver, who is her love interest. His diligent nature and kindness won her over completely and she thinks of him as the knight who saved the damsel in distress her grandmother would often tell her about when she was young. Silver himself seems to find Cass a bit odd due to her professed love for his father’s cooking and other quirks, but overall sweet and endearing.

She seems to have a somewhat positive relationship with Sebek too, since she idolises Malleus too, so they often openly praise him to one another. Sebek seems not to mind Cass’ presence as much since she obviously understands Malleus’ greatness. However, after Lilia begins to teach her how to embrace her fae ancestry, he’s among her only victims when it comes to the pranks she pulls. They are extremely innocuous and rather lame, as Ace might bluntly put it, but Sebek still falls for them every time to everybody’s amazement. 

She also seems to have a bad relationship with Azul since he tried to talk her into coming to do some fortune telling for Mostro Lounge customers as a special treat. She categorically refused him since it reminded her too much of when people asked her to tell their fortune just to profit off her abilities. Ever since then, she’s completely avoided him whenever she comes to visit. 

Eliksia

The dorm which Eliksia normally got along with would be Pomefiore, since they both have a clear focus on alchemy. However, current Eliksia Prefect, Agatha, seems to deeply dislike Vil due to him being one of those ‘shiny’ people she despises. His positive relationship with Rosa, which Agatha also hates, only makes her more convinced Vil is not the sort of person she wants to have around, so she has completely avoided him and the Pomefiore dorm building ever since she became Prefect.

As a result, whenever she visits the NRC campus she mostly hangs around Sam’s shop, who she considers her ‘Big Brother’ due to him having helped her gain a human form when she first expressed a desire to explore the surface world. His help has gained him her eternal gratitude so she makes sure to visit each time she’s on campus. She merely huddles in a corner and makes conversation with him about various topics which invariably freak out anybody who eavesdrops on them. She likes how Sam won’t judge her for behaving the way she does, and makes sure to always buy something as a show of appreciation for letting her hide in there. 

Other people Agatha can’t stand are Kalim, Ace, Deuce, Rook, Cater, Trey, Riddle- It would actually be easier to count the number of people she does like and that’s mostly only Ortho. Though she was initially skeptical of him due to being related to Idia (who she thinks is not good enough for her Big Sister), she eventually warmed up to him when she realised how knowledgeable and how absolutely deadly he actually is. The fact that he does not make fun of her appearance and has even complimented her teeth (because they look his Idia’s) has only made her fonder of him. So she does not mind if he approaches her for a chat when she’s on the NRC campus.

She does not get along at all with the Leech twins, since she considers them bigger predators and Floyd annoys her Big Sister, nor with Azul, since octopuses eat crustaceans too, which are the main food source for flashlight fish like her. She generally tends to avoid them since she can’t really stand them all that much. 

Noctasis 

The dorm’s dark elegance and grace has traditionally made it a good fit for Diasomnia who exhibits a similar aesthetic. Though that would usually be the case, the current Prefect, Vita, is much closer to Idia, which is natural given that the two are engaged and he is her love interest. As they were betrothed when they were five and six years old respectively, they are childhood friends. Vita’s more forceful personality often clashes with Idia’s more reserved one on the surface, but they are in actuality pretty in sync. Vita appreciates Idia’s intelligence as well as his mean side and takes delight in encouraging him to express his displeasure more loudly, rather than be afraid of what others might think of him. Idia cannot understand how Vita can care so little for what others think about her, but also admires this side of her. She’s very devoted to him, but does not mean she will hold back when she whips him in shape so he’ll be a more functional person and more confident in himself. On the whole the two get along quite well, and are gaming buddies, since Idia taught her how to play video games when they were younger. She’s become quite proficient at it however, much to Idia’s ire since it means she often beats his high scores. He’s also tried getting her into anime, manga or light novels but has had no luck on that front yet. Vita also calls him ‘husband’ generally, which he initially found embarrassing but now doesn’t mind anymore. The two also have a dog (Kerberos breed) together who spends most of the time with Vita, but is extremely attached to Idia as well. 

Vita also has a good relationship with Ortho, in theory at least. Because he’s Idia’s brother she treats him well and is very pleasant to him, but is also uncomfortable in his presence to a certain degree. His creation goes against her family’s beliefs and Idia clings to him as a security blanket which makes it difficult for him to learn how to move on from the past, which bothers Vita quite a bit. But she understands it’s not Ortho’s fault so she takes most of her complaints to her husband, something that causes quite a few fights between them. Ortho himself is unaware of this.

Incidentally, it was Ortho who gave her the nickname ‘Vita’ when they were young children and it stuck The fact that Ortho uses it even now gives her mixed feelings.

Another person Vita gets along with is Ruggie since she found him amusing in his attempt to get close to the Shrouds because they’re a noble family. His mischievous personality also endears him to her more and thus she’s become fond of having him around or taking him to Mostro Lounge to buy him lunch and get the latest gossip regarding the students of NRC. Ruggie himself also seems to like Vita since she’s very generous with her money and sometimes jokingly even calls her ‘Big Sis’ (in the same manner delinquent girls are called ‘big sis’ within their group).

Vita also finds a lot of enjoyment in annoying Azul ever since she met him at Idia’s club. Whenever she drops by Mostro Lounge with Ruggie she also seeks out Azul just to entertain herself on his behalf by trying ruffle his feathers. For a provocation expert like her the task is very enjoyable, though she also has to put up with Floyd’s unpleasant presence too. She is on better terms with Jade who is somewhat similar to her in that he enjoys trolling him, and the two often have repartees whenever they have time to chat, speaking in metaphors and odd allusions.   

These are all the very condensed versions, but I plan to make some posts dedicated just to relationship mapping since I find it interesting. 👀

Also, I know there are some peeps that have WNA OCs so do feel free to join in with how your OCs interact with NRC if you want to!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanschool #walpurga nacht academy #rosenhex #grimmaire #kriegskald #galdtrea #monarchia #oraluna #eliksia #noctasis #ask #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #octavinelle #scarabia #pomefiore #ignihyde #diasomnia #riddle rosehearts #jack howl #azul ashengrotto #epel felmier #idia shroud #silver #trey clover #cater diamond #ace trappola #deuce spade #leona kingscholar

[ineffably-effable]

good omens fic recommendations

If you’re looking for coherent reviews you’ll be disappointed, but if you want a list of quality recommendations - with excerpts & some vague ramblings as to what the reader should be in the mood for - enjoy!

29 recommendations underneath the cut.

(17k) Something We Were Withholding Made Us Weak by triedunture 

Crowley and Aziraphale learn to move in tandem.

Mood: beautiful slow burn, misunderstandings, heartache that would be solved if someone taught these besotted idiots to communicate.

Paradox: Crowley has never risen from his seat and gone to stand behind someone at a counter, never put his arms around their middle and pulled them tight against him. Has never apologized with a touch, with a closeness, with the thin line of his body. So why does it occur to him that he might do that now? Might press up against Aziraphale from behind and rest his forehead on Aziraphale’s nape and ask silently to be forgiven. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world when he knows, intimately knows that it’s not.

(51k) how deep the sand by Handful_of_Silence

After the Apocalypse, and with characteristic slowness, both Crowley and Aziraphale think there might be something they need to sit down and talk about.

And then Aziraphale disappears.

Mood: tragic twist of fate, separation, hurt/comfort, guilt & devotion.

He thinks about the picnic they’d have had. He’d have pulled the top down from the Bentley and let the wind tussle his hair, the weather of a glorious August now gone warming his skin. They would have chatted, sitting carefully on a tartan blanket, and they’d have made their own plans.

They might have even found the right time to talk properly. Honestly. About everything that’s been, about the possibilities that could be now that everything’s different.

About maybe not going back to London. Going back to their Jobs.

About leaving it all behind, together.

The words Crowley didn’t say are clogging up his throat.

(14k) Made Flesh by rfsmiley / @redfacesmiley

AU in which Crowley is two entities, and Aziraphale isn’t sure how he feels about either of them.

Mood: oblivious idiots, daemon!fic-if-you-squint, pining & tamed desire.

Eleven years pass, attended by another marked change; the creature cannot bear to be out of the same room as Aziraphale. The angel, isolated and frayed as he is by the fear of the coming war, has no problems with this development – he needs the company – although sometimes he looks into the yellow eyes and feels the spear of a nameless sorrow. If it comes to it, Heaven will win, of course; the certainty, however, is bitter. He tries not to think about what will happen to Crowley, or to this small being that runs at his heels as he moves, gripped by a contagious agitation.

(8k) Ad Astra by drawlight / @drawlight

Some things can only be said in the dark.

Mood: beautiful prose, longing, ruthless inner-voices & insecurities.

Aziraphale swallows. His eyes hold Crowley’s. Crowley stands very still, wretched. Terrified. Watching Aziraphale’s very wide eyes, the open of the mouth. There is a softness in Aziraphale’s look, in the swallow of his throat. It could be? (It might not be.) He wants to scream it; he wants to say nothing at all. Let me stay in this bit of maybe. Maybe is not no, maybe means perhaps, someday. Maybe means you might feel the same. (You might not.)

(13.3k) Alegría by drawlight / @drawlight

After the End That Wasn’t, Heaven and Hell are leaving them alone. Entirely alone. (This is a story with nothing of miracles.)

Mood: beautiful prose, longing, ruthless inner-voices & insecurities + domesticity

(Yes, I know the mood is almost the same as above, but honestly this is @drawlight, what were you expecting? Read it if you want a Crowley that will absolutely wreck you & leave you heart-broken.)

Aziraphale is a touch-strong man. He touches everything (Crowley knows, he always watches). Aziraphale loves and he likes to love through his skin. His fingers on a particularly fine leather binding, dipping into the embossed author, the tooled name of the title. His hands breaking apart a loaf of Italian sourdough, fingers coming away with residual flour. Dipping his hands into sacks of grain, rubbing a fine weave of silk through. He touches Crowley too, in his usual and gentle way. The touch on the arm to still Crowley’s whiplash self, to make a point during an argument. Aziraphale who thinks nothing of oh, my dear, you’ve got an eyelash just there, let me get it for you. Crowley has a good memory. He catalogs them all, cross-examines them. Six-thousand years of maybes and what-ifs and what was thats ? But Aziraphale is just as easy with his touches on glass bottles while pulling out his favorite vintages. He touches his favorite fountain pen far more often than he reaches for Crowley. No, in context, it means nothing. It’s just Aziraphale as usual. Don’t look too closely, it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t.

(13k) small infinities and all that by JustStandingHere / @billypotts

Crowley and Aziraphale are turned human. This is the aftermath.

Mood: slow burn, domesticity, best friends falling in love & all the beautiful awkwardness that entails.

And there it is, isn’t it? Something they’ve known for a long time, but haven’t named it. Have been too scared to name it. Something that speaks in their bones, in the space between them.

(12k) the deft, sweet gesture of your hand by deadgreeks / @mortuarybees

Crowley arrives injured at Aziraphale’s door. He takes care of him, reads him an awful lot of Mary Oliver, and knits elaborate metaphors for his insecurities (literally).

Mood: beautiful writing, mixed signals, feeling unworthy of the millenia-long object of your affections, unable to create gifts that are good enough for the people you love and being in love with a complete idiot.

Aziraphale has tended to the sick and injured during periods of plague and war many times throughout his long life, and he tries to adopt the same kind-but-impersonal detachment as he carefully washes Crowley. It is slightly harder, Crowley being the sole object of six thousand years of repressed desire, but he’s also Aziraphale’s closest friend, and a person besides, so he does him the courtesy of not ogling his bare legs or torso as he goes.

(9.3k) Slow by write_away / @theirdarkreturning

Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves somehow married. Crowley fears going too fast. Aziraphale forges ahead. Neither know how to ask questions of each other.

Mood: Miscommunication, with a hefty side order of pining and the urge to yell at your screen in the vain hopes of getting through to these two idiots.

For Crowley - that was the demon’s name, and it’s best to memorize it quickly, before he changes it yet again - knew that the angel would love him if he just asked, and Aziraphale - the angel, though there’s no rush with him, there never really is - knew that the demon would take him in with open arms if he just asked. It’s just that neither of them were good at asking things of one another.

(14.7) Lead me to the banquet hall by obstinatrix, wishwellingtons

Crowley loves taking Aziraphale out to eat almost as much as Aziraphale loves eating, but it’s always a bit of a one-sided affair. Aziraphale has never understood why. Crowley planned on keeping it that way, but best laid plans…

Mood: wonderful footnotes, pining, creating a shrine to the object of your longing and then submitting to the mortifying ordeal of them finding it.

The thing about Aziraphale is quite simply this: Crowley can never have enough of him. God, Satan, everyone knows he’s tried. Crowley has spent centuries glutting himself on the sight of him only to be empty again days later, wondering whether it’s too soon to show his face in the bookshop. Aziraphale drifts from brasserie to bar in his quest to indulge in the best of human culinary expertise; Crowley follows after, because he knows Aziraphale will be there. It isn’t enough, but it’s something, and the only thing Crowley can ever expect.

(14.2k) all i need, darling, is a life in your shape       by deadgreeks / @mortuarybees

After everything, Aziraphale and Crowley, by unspoken agreement, begin sharing their lives.

Mood: domesticity with pining, chosen family, acts of love, boyfriend sweaters & idiots in love.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes indulgently, passing out the rest of the gifts and sneaking little glances at Crowley as he struggled with the box. He’d worked so hard on it, searched all the best yarn shops in London for the perfect skeins. He even had to sit on hold for hours with the manufacturer of the yarn he chose because he needed another skein from the same dye-lot, knowing that Crowley would want only the best, and he’d notice even a minor inconsistency in the coloring.

(27k) Long Is The Way, And Hard by Kate_Lear

A story of Crowley’s thoughts about Aziraphale, from the Beginning to the present day.

And also of temptation, and want, and whether - for a Fallen Angel - redemption is possible after all.

Mood: slow burn, denial, temptation, jealousy, lust to love, character growth.

Aziraphale hasn’t shared his bed with anyone. He can’t have done, because if he has then Crowley is going to hunt down that mortal – in this world or the next – and enact something creatively and comprehensively bloody upon them. Possibly involving methods from the Spanish Inquisition, that have scabbed over in Crowley’s memory and that he shies away from picking at.

(25.7k) your weekend lover by witching

Mood: miscommunication, mutual pining, ineffable idiots who are on the same page but reading a different damn book

It was purely physical, they had agreed on that from the beginning. Aziraphale couldn’t quite remember why he had agreed to that, but he suspected it had something to do with not ruining their friendship, or some such nonsense. At any rate, that was the deal. The new Arrangement. Purely physical.

(16k) I’ve Got You To Help Me Forgive by Kate Andrews (k8andrewz)

Pt1: Crowley deals, more or less, with the Fall. Also, Crowley has feelings. The angel doesn’t help with that. Also, sunny rocks are very nice.

Pt2: In which tea is made, a story is shared, and a leap of faith is taken.

Mood: Lust, first times, innocence, ineffable sex, memory wipes, Aziraphale showing initiative and being a bit of a bastard, overwhelmed Crowley, Gabriel is a total dick. Fair warning this isn’t PWP, it has loads of plot and feelings too and fantastic characterizations.

The air in Crowley’s lungs took leave of him all at once. Memories he hadn’t given a good look at in ages resurfaced. Memories he’d quite ably buried, thank you very much and he sat up abruptly, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. He set his sunglasses on the table, then pressed his face into his palms and gave it a good scrub. After a sidelong glance at Aziraphale who sat there patiently watching him, he asked, “What am I supposed to do with a question like that, hmm?”

(13.9k) The Lightness of You by Rend_Herring

God should not have built them with such discrepancy, made them need for love, and long for wholeness, then left them to their own devices.

Mood: When you want to mix up your pining & angst with a bit of humour, sex and a praise kink.

The jasmine vine actually tries brushing up against Aziraphale’s cheek and he blushes, says, “Oh, you,” all indulgent and sweet-like.  It leaves a fragrant white blossom behind his ear.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale says sincerely, and Crowley glares openly at the traitors. “That’s very kind of you.” His smile really is a beacon of otherworldly radiance. An orchid blooms on the spot, the epiphyte whore.

(7.2k) summer and his pleasures by witching

absence makes the heart grow fonder, and crowley and aziraphale’s hearts were plenty fond to begin with. a story told through phone calls while they are separated for work-related reasons.

Mood: drunk dialing and dirty talk, idiots in love

Something clicked in Aziraphale’s mind, and he held back a curse word threatening on his tongue. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, he found himself just in that sweet spot of intoxication where he was cognizant enough to recognize that he was doing something he absolutely shouldn’t do, but not quite enough to stop himself. “I would, you know,” he said, full of newfound confidence. “I’d – if you were here, I’d make it… very much worth your while.”

(3.6k) Birds of a Feather by idiopathicsmile

Aziraphale nests. Crowley relearns some crucial facts about angelic courtship rituals.

Mood: Jealousy, lashing out, withdrawal, oblivious idiots slowly learning how to use their words.

Is Crowley jealous of a musty old flat above a used book store? In the millennia he’s spent slowly twisting his own heart around Aziraphale’s little finger, it’s not the weirdest thing he’s been jealous of, to be honest.

(11k) A Touch Like Sunlight    by goodomensblog / @goodomensblog / @just-quintessentially-me

When Aziraphale is threatened by angels who seek justice for Aziraphale’s crimes against Heaven, Crowley comes up with a plan to keep him safe from harm.

Mood: PTSD from witnessing the attempted murder of your husband, it’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you, self-sacrificing idiots & badass idiots protecting eachother.

“Right! Brunch!” Aziraphale says, bouncing up on his toes - as if they hadn’t just been discussing the murder of archangels. “Do you think they have crepes?”

(13.6k) These Things Were Here by MajorEnglishEsquire

Crowley, following times of overwhelming distress, resorted to the snake form as a means of finding comfort and solitude.

Mood: displays of affection, love shown through care-taking, using your ineffable boyfriend as a security blanket.

Nothing like it happened again for years. The pattern, however, was too recognizable to be mistaken when it did reoccur.

When commended for some catastrophe of which he was no part, Crowley became a completely disconsolate mess, but he still actually handled those occasions better than when he was, in fact, party to such disaster.

If he was blamed, but not actually at fault, Aziraphale may find him on the verge of discorporation due to alcohol poisoning, but at least he would say what was wrong. It was worse when he had an assignment he couldn’t breathe a word of. It was worse when he would smile bitterly and leave silently, haunted beyond expression.

(4.6k) let sleeping snakes lie by kythen / @kythen

The world doesn’t end. Crowley falls asleep. And Aziraphale stays by his side, waiting for him to wake up again.

Mood: acts of love, comfort, warmth, home

To some extent, he understands Crowley’s need for sleep. It had been an exhausting decade for the both of them, what with the end of the world business, and it had culminated spontaneously in them cutting off their ties with both Heaven and Hell rather dramatically, which were the only ties that either of them have ever had since the Beginning. Just as Crowley had sauntered from the ranks of Heaven to Hell, he had finally found his way out of Hell and into something that finally felt like freedom.

(6.4k) All The Dreams We Had by ImpishTubist / @impishtubist

This time will be different, Aziraphale thinks. This time, Crowley will remember.

Mood: amnesia, groundhog day - but centered on a single relationship - and with more angst

It takes a year for Crowley to fall for him again, a year until the air raid and the church and the books; a year before Aziraphale finds himself pressed up against a brick wall and exchanging desperate, burning kisses.

Crowley’s forgotten again by morning.

(70k) The Place You Need To Reach by Zetared / @zetablarian 

When Crowley is forcibly recalled to home office, Aziraphale conspires with a denounced saint and strikes a deal with the agents of Hell to get him back.

Mood: sacrifice, loss of self, trauma, love, tenderness and fantasy-novel-esque world & character building

“I have a journey to complete,” Aziraphale reminds the Adversary, primly. “May I begin?”

“In good time, Aziraphael. In good time. Tell me, do you recall the rules correctly?”

Aziraphale grits his teeth at the purposeful use of his forgotten name, but he doesn’t mention it. “Yes, of course. Using no miracles or ethereal influence of any kind, I must walk through the circles of Hell and complete an unknown task in each to earn passage to the next. I must not look behind me, where Crowley will walk. I may speak to Crowley, but he cannot speak back. I will not hear him or see him or feel even a hint of his presence. I will move forward, and, God willing, he will follow me.”

(1.9k) Kissing, Accidentally. by skybound2 / @skybound2

The one where Crowley gives in and kisses Aziraphale while he has him pinned against a wall.

Mood: hilarious footnotes, brilliant Crowley internal monologues and ineffable kissing against a wall.

No. No what actually happens is that when Crowley slams Aziraphale up against a wall in the middle of a hallway at a former-Satanic-hospital-turned-paintball-complex to express to him how very not nice he is, his hindbrain, forebrain and all other portions of his brain, decide that while denial has been a lovely place to reside for the previous six millennia, they are rather due a relocation at this point. And “Oh! Would you look at that! Here’s the oh-so-very soft mouth of an oh-so-very-beautiful angel right in front of us! And all we have to do to get there is to just…lean forward an inch. Less than an inch, in fact! How fantastic!”

(9.3k) Build Our Kingdom by Mackem 

Mood: : ineffable dates, promises kept

“Ready for lunch?” Crowley drops to his knees to start unbuckling the straps on the basket as though this is something they do all the time; as though he hasn’t just effortlessly catapulted Aziraphale back in time almost fifty years.

“You remembered,” Aziraphale breathes as wonder courses through him. He mentioned something once during an awkward moment, half a century ago, and now here kneels a demon atop a picnic blanket.

“Hmm?” Crowley barely shoots him a sidelong glance as he concentrates on opening the basket.

Aziraphale’s eyes do not move from him. “You remembered,” he repeats, no less stunned. “Crowley, you really didn’t have to.”

Crowley’s hands still. Eventually, his eyes still on the basket, he murmurs, “Well, we did The Ritz, didn’t we?”

(9k) On The Matter Of Touch by Somedrunkpirate

For two ineffable husbands, they don’t really touch each other much. Here is a story on why that might be.

Mood: touch-starved idiots in love, heart-breaking internal monologues, misunderstandings, miscommunication, protective idiots.

Crowley had decided long ago that curiosity should have been a sin, because it has been the one thing consistently tempting him in his existence. He’s done everything he can think of and more, just so see what it was all about. But this, with Aziraphale, feels more than just an experience he can add to his endless tally

(8.2k) dum memor ipse mei by NeverNooitNiet

There is something, Aziraphale thinks, that is inherently selfish— unangelic, even— about grief. But then of course, the same could be said about love.

Mood: identity angst, calling Aziraphale out on his bullshit

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous ,” Crowley snaps. “Of course I don’t— angel, do you have any idea just how much more straightforward my life would be if only I were able to hate you?”

(5.6k) bent to the very earth by Ark / @et-in-arkadia

Use me, please, Crowley had said, so Aziraphale takes him at his word.

Mood: tenderness & kisses & sex against a wall

Aziraphale kisses him back because that is what makes sense, kissing Crowley, why, the thought crosses his mind often enough—he just never had the sort of momentum that seems to fire up Crowley now. Crowley whose hands are shaking before they ball up as fists on Aziraphale’s lapels, Crowley who keeps kissing him and kissing him like otherwise he’ll drown.

(40k) Lit in the Darkness by ToEdenandBackAgain / @toedenandbackagain​

Mood: Aziraphale and Crowley sleeping together through the ages. Mutual pining.

Aziraphale, despite being nowhere hear as gangly as Crowley, is somehow still all arms and legs when he sleeps. Crowley takes an elbow to the face three times before he wedges the angel between the wall and his body with an angry growl, making sure to trap the flailing limbs tight beneath his own.

Works In progress

this gorgeous ineffable wives snippet by @mia-ugly

Mood: beautiful writing, emotional vulnerability, submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known,

“Whatever happens tomorrow -“ And something will happen, they won’t walk away from this. They’d never be allowed. “Darling, you should know -”

the bucket list

  by darcylindbergh / @forineffablereasons  / @watsonshoneybee​

If you’re going to go native, you might as well go all the way.

Mood: saying the absolutely wrong thing at the wrong time, reaching your breaking point, miscommunication and heart break.

“You know, we are the way we are,” Aziraphale said slowly, pressing it a little, brushing his wing up against Crowley’s, “but we can also change, Crowley. We have done, over the years. We’ve changed quite a lot, since we first met.”

#ineffable husbands #good omens fic #ineffable husbands fic #good omens fic recs #ineffable husband fic recs #this is basically a love letter to this wonderful fandom #good omens #good omens fic rec

[wanna-b-poet31]

Gabriel: He Hath Turn'd A Heaven Unto Hell

I felt like clarifying my earlier Meta on Gabriel’s Gaslighting in Good Omens. 

So like, we know that Gabriel is a dick but what makes him worse (and abusive), is how he uses his position of privilege and power over Aziraphale. 

Even though I’ve read some amazing metas that assert Aziraphale would be canonically higher ranked than the archangels, the bureaucracy favors Gabriel. While Aziraphale may have been given troops to command and a garden to protect, Michael refers to Gabriel’s choices when confronting the evidence against Aziraphale for his demonic “boyfriend”, Sandalphon allows Gabriel to direct the “surprise” meeting in the bookshop, and Gabriel appears at the airfield, in a position equal to Beelzebub, Prince of Hell.  So even if it isn’t a God-ordained position of power, he clearly is treated as the authority figure over Heaven. 

His abuse is rooted in the desire to gain and maintain power and control over Aziraphale. And like real talk, Show!Gabriel is sickeningly effective at emotionally abusing Aziraphale, and his most insidious tool is gaslighting.

Broadly, what I mean is that Gabriel is (trying to) reshape Aziraphale’s perception of reality using techniques like: 

pretending not to understand why Aziraphale is so worried about being unable to stop the war (Withholding); 

purposefully making Aziraphale’s feelings/interests feel insignificant (Trivializing); 

Changing topics when Aziraphale starts to question his or Heaven’s motives for the war(Diverting); 

Forgetting or denying events that have previously happened (Denial)

Purposefully questioning the victim’s memory/even despite knowing their account of events to be true (Countering)

Gaslighting IS abuse. Full Stop.

Although it can masquerade as genuine confusion or concern, the National Domestic Violence Hotline reminds us how over time, these abusive patterns of behaviors lead to a victim who “can become confused, anxious, isolated and depressed while losing all sense of what is actually happening. Then, the victim may start relying on the abusive partner more and more to define reality, which creates a very difficult situation to escape”

Affect on Aziraphale

Because? Honestly? Gabriel’s behavior is not nice, or innocent.  

Who here can honestly say that Aziraphale doesn’t constantly second-guess himself? And that he doesn’t have trouble making decisions?

Or ask himself if he’s too sensitive? too soft?

Maybe that he’s confused, or crazy? That he has to apologize for Heaven/Gabriel’s behavior to friends? That he feels like he has to withhold information to avoid making excuses or explaining Heaven/Gabriel’s behavior?

Does anyone think he’s happy despite apparently “good” things happening for angels? That he should feel happier for his circumstances?  Or that he knows something is terribly wrong, but unable to express what it is? To Gabriel? To God? To Crowley? Even To himself? 

We already know he uses lying as a coping mechanism to avoid put-downs!  And When he’s away from Heaven he’s a radically different person. That he’s more confident, more fun-loving, more relaxed when away from his abusers. 

He’s absolutely joyless around Gabriel, 

and been made to feel he can’t do anything right. 

These are all the symptoms of being gaslit (gaslighted?), and it takes a heavy psychological toll on Aziraphale’s mental health.

He is being controlled. 

Through gaslighting, Gabriel can control Aziraphale’s perception of reality and consequently control his actions. 

Gabriel’s Guilting Pleasure

Gabriel cares about humanity about as much as one cares about their obligatory dental appointment. They do it, sure, but through requirement, and clinical distance. He doesn’t choose to love humanity, he chooses to manage Humanity. He chooses to treat them like cattle: to be kept in a pen [earth], kept for slaughter. He yearns for control, and that control extends to the angels who depend on him for leadership. 

Contrast that with how Aziraphale >and Crowely< who unabashedly choose to love humanity. 

Aziraphale is, at heart, a lover of food. He finds genuine joy and pleasure from eating, and in many ways, it’s an intimate part of who Aziraphale IS. It’s not that Aziraphale is a glutton, but it sparks joy in him.

Crowley clearly takes note of this, and on more than one occasion has gone out of his way to eat with him.  Book!Crowley explicitly shares food with Aziraphale, purposefully ordering desserts that his angel can steal bites.  It’s tender, it’s sweet, and it clearly shows the mutual respect the two share.

When unconstrained by the bounds of Heaven, we can see in the above GIF, just how relaxed Aziraphale can be. He has a soft calm smile, unafraid features. and a body language that to me communicates the feeling of safety.  This is an entity who unabashedly happy, but not just about Sushi.  He has a semblance of freedom here.

But, the scene abruptly changes when a Wild Gabriel appears! 

Aziraphale goes from relaxed, care-free, to tense in 0.01 seconds. Once he finishes *appreciating the sushi* there’s a magical jingling sound, Aziraphale almost instinctually turns left because Crowley is always on his left, and Gabriel’s face greets him in the mirror. 

We have a few precious seconds where we can see Aziraphale’s face journey: relax joy turns to expectant smile:

Look at the crinkled eyes, the flared nostrils, the look of joy. He’s clearly expecting pleasant company to join him.  

In the below gif, we get a slice of the impact of Gabriel’s control.  Once it’s revealed to be Gabriel, not Crowley, who asks to join him, his entire face falls. Notice how the smile is long gone, and his glance at the food is hesitant like he’s doing something wrong by being there.  

Gabriel then asks: “Why do you consume that? You’re an angel” with palatable judgment. Mean, but harmless right?

No. 

Aziraphale instantly starts making excuses, hiding an integral part of who he is, because he is trying to avoid the inevitable ridicule from someone who is supposed to support him and love him unconditionally.  

Gabriel is asking a question that he can infer an answer from: that either Aziraphale deems eating necessary, or he enjoys doing it. He’s feigning forgetfulness and calling Aziraphale’s choices into question. 

Further, by bringing attention to the “you’re an angel” Gabriel is drawing a line in the sand, defining that to be an Angel, at least a good angel, you can’t eat, lest they “desecrate” their holiness.  You can see Aziraphale’s face IMMEDIATELY fall.

We, the audience, can see this is untrue. There’s no reason to believe food is harmful to supernatural entities, and more importantly, it brings so much unbridled JOY to Aziraphale. So why point it out? Why deliberately trivialize our favorite Angel’s feelings like that?

Control.

Trivializing Aziraphale’s passions allow him to impose his own agenda. 

Gaslighting the War

Okay, so Aziraphale lies ALOT, but we know for a fact that he’s told Gabriel his intentions to try stopping the war. Several times. Over the course of 11 years. It should be no surprise to Gabriel that Aziraphale has a singular goal: saving humanity. 

Although Aziraphale conveniently forgets to mention Crowley’s role in helping prevent the war, Gabriel knows the general gist of Aziraphale’s plan to “prevent” the war. Aziraphale has made his intentions excruciatingly clear. 

However, besides blatantly lying to him about Heaven’s position on saving the world, he trivializes the very real concerns Aziraphale poses. It’s not just that he thinks Aziraphale can’t stop the war, it’s that Gabriel deliberately misleads him. Aziraphale up until the end of Episode 4, firmly believes his “side” will sanction the salvation of humanity. And Gabriel specifically strings him along, letting our angel believe that if he successfully climbs his mountain, he would be accepted by Heaven. (He’s not)

Then, in the above GIF, he dismisses Aziraphale’s transparent, clear plea for help.

CONTEXT: This is how Episode 4 opens. Aziraphale has found the Anti-Christ, met and rejected Crowley’s offer to fly off to Alpha Centauri at the Bandstand, told the love of his life his best friend that he doesn’t even like him and is in full out freak mode. Then, apropos of nothing “runs” into Gabriel and is in dire need of support to stop the end of the world. He NEEDS a lifeline, now that he thinks Crowley is fleeing Earth, never to see him again.

He firmly asserts that humanity is worth saving and that they COULD do it, (they’re Heavenly after all), but Gabriel does not give a single flying fuck about Aziraphale’s feelings.

Instead of answering Aziraphale’s prayers, Gabriel reinforces his own interests (see: the never-ending war) and changes the conversation to focus Aziraphale’s “gut”. The glance in the below GIF is unnervingly condescending.

Look at how “disappointed” Gabriel appears glancing up to meet Aziraphale’s eyes before pointedly looking to Aziraphale’s belly. It is if, with his eyes, Gabriel is insinuating Aziraphale’s appearance is a personal failing and a somehow more important problem than stopping the end of the world.

The pivot from Aziraphale plea “we need to stop the end of the world” to “you’ need to lose the gut” is classic “Diverting” from the situation. It deflects from his own manipulative behavior and leaves Aziraphale to constantly second-guess himself. It puts the power squarely in Gabriel’s hands because the topic is no longer rooted in Aziraphale’s valid concerns or feelings.

Gabriel leaves the scene, with a visibly distraught Aziraphale and, we hear Azirgaphale say he’s soft, in a hopeless, joyless voice that’s full of self-doubt.  It’s a heartbreaking moment because of how powerless Gabriel has made him feel. 

He has no support system.

However, Gabriel’s gaslighting comes to a head once Aziraphale is pushed passed his breaking point.

Aziraphale Want(s) To Break Free

Gabriel doesn’t encounter Aziraphale again until after the armageddon has been thoroughly avoided (read: Aziraphale’s concerns have been validated, he’s taken steps to address his issues, and he’s reformed relationships with people his abuser pushed him to second-guess).

When Gabriel reappears, he has every reason to believe that his gaslighting will work to “control” Aziraphale. Because, while he may now be aware of Aziraphale’s friendship with Crowley, abusers will do anything to get the desired power dynamic (with them controlling all of it, and the victim none), and why abandon his most effective tool?

So he tells Aziraphale to shut up, presuming he can still control Aziraphale. That Aziraphale’s inclusion is not just unneeded, but unwanted. 

Just one thing though, Aziraphale defies his abuser. 

It’s HIS turn to start questioning Gabriel’s grasp of reality. To buck against not just the system, but the authority figure who has constantly been belittling and gaslighting him. 

Why? What changes?

Crowley.

Crowley absolutely does not gaslight Aziraphale. Instead, he seeks to understand and validate his Angel’s concerns. Sure, occasionally they’ll fight, or push each other’s buttons, but Crowley never tries to manipulate of control Aziraphale. He remembers and encourages Aziraphale’s passions, actively seeks to participate in joint interests, and the sole act of saving Aziraphale’s books because he knows just how damn important those books are to his angel.

He’ll even go as far as to prioritize Aziraphale’s needs/comfort above his own.  Is Aziraphale chained in a prison during the Reign of Terror? Sure, let’s just appear to rescue him. Aziraphale is getting double-crossed by Nazi bastards? Let’s just put ourselves in danger and walk on the consecrated ground and be to rescue him and his books.

It would be a bit of an understatement to say that Crowley cares about Aziraphale and wants to promote his wellbeing.

At the Airfield, Gabriel has never interacted with Aziraphale with Crowley around (deleted scenes notwithstanding) and able to support him. But Crowley isn’t just there, he steps up, beside Adam, besides Aziraphale and affirms Aziraphale’s sense of reality. No, he’s not crazy, and his question IS valid. 

The simple act of having a support system there definitely boosts Aziraphale’s confidence and gives him the strength to make an actual choice.

Intervene.

He chooses to walk up to Beelzebub and Gabriel and ask, if they are sure of their reality, because, now Aziraphale sure as hell is. He knows where he stands and who he stands with.  

He is no longer under Gabriel’s control.

Never before has Aziraphale had a single honest choice. Sure, he made the choice to enter the “arrangement” with Crowley, to raise the (wrong) anti-christ, to lie to God. But these choices are rooted in self-preservation and self-defense.  Also, he’s not transparent about these choices to Gabriel.

Once Armageddon is averted, and Aziraphale’s chosen to side with Crowley, to jump out of Heaven if need be for humanity, there is very little holding Aziraphale back. And, Aziraphale is finally being lifted up.

Gabriel tries to intimidate Aziraphale into submission, to tell him the questions he’s asking are insignificant, and that his opinion doesn’t matter. But, Aziraphale no longer is blind to the gaslighting, and pushes on. Crowley, in turn, backs him up and they support each other (and Adam) as they defy their respective abusers.

TLDR: Really, Please, Fuck Off Gabriel

Thanks for coming to my Tedtalk

#good omens #Ineffable Husbands #gomens #gabriel good omens #crowely #aziraphale/crowley #Aziraphale #crowley/aziraphale #aziraphale and crowley #gaslighting #was asked to clarify my ideas #ask and you shall receive #please like this #good omens meta #FUCK GABRIEL #gabriel #neil gaiman #gabriel is a dick #gabriel is an abuser #gabriel (good omens) #crowley good omens #aziraphale deserves a hug #crowely deserves a hug too #a/c #abuse #tw: mentions of abuse #tw: mentions of gaslighting #recovery #happy ending #fuck off gabriel

[themisanthropiclycanthrope]

Every Little Thing

i couldn’t help writing more snake!crowley. i’m soft

continue beneath the cut with bonus snek phone doodle or on ao3

****

Eyes never leaving the page, Aziraphale reached for his cocoa, hand finding the mug by instinct alone, only to discover it had once again grown cold. Disappointed, he was debating whether to miracle it warm or make a fresh mug when the liquid began to steam with renewed heat.

 “Oh!”

 He had quite forgotten that Crowley was here. (Well, not forgotten exactly, rather allowed himself to become so absorbed by his latest acquisition that he had let the world around him fade.) In addition, the demon had been uncharacteristically quiet, not making a nuisance of himself as was more often the case.

Currently sprawled in an armchair he had dragged over to the window (perfectly positioned to catch the sunlight slanting through the glass) Crowley had his long legs flung over one of the arms, his head resting atop the other, arms spread wide; it was a position that looked ridiculously uncomfortable, in Aziraphale’s opinion, but Crowley seemed content enough.

Although…

Seeing that slender body slung sinuously across the (rather antique and expensive) piece of furniture, Aziraphale began to wonder if he would not be even more comfortable if he were to take a form far more suited to dramatic draping.

“Dear boy, if it would be more comfortable, you can always… you know. If you want.”

Crowley tipped his head back over the arm of the chair to cast an upside-down expression of bafflement at Aziraphale. His sunglasses hid his eyes (quite regrettably in Aziraphale’s opinion) but the crease between his brows communicated his confusion quite eloquently.

“You’re not making any sense, angel.”

“Well, I thought you might… that is to say…”  Aziraphale stammered to a halt, unsure if this was the sort of thing one should suggest. Perhaps it would be impolite to broach the subject, especially when Crowley had never seemed particularly inclined… 

Crowley grew impatient with Aziraphale’s dithering, the roll of his eyes hidden behind tinted lenses but palpable. “Spit it out.”

“If you would like to lounge in the sun in your serpent form, you are welcome to do so.”

Crowley jerked upright, twisting in his seat to stare at Aziraphale, one brow arched above his shades.

“You…” It wasn’t often Crowley found himself speechless, but he definitely hadn’t been expecting that. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Mind?” Aziraphale frowned. “Why would I mind?”

Crowley waved a hand in the air, as if it should be obvious. “Most people tend to be a bit wary of a great big snake lurking around.”

Aziraphale prickled, mildly affronted at the implication that he should be bothered by Crowley’s presence. But there was a vulnerability behind Crowley’s words that suggested his hesitation stemmed from a fear of rejection (although he would never admit to such a thing).

A smile of understanding softened his face. “I’m not ‘most people’, am I?”

The truth of that statement slammed into Crowley, stealing the breath he didn’t need. Aziraphale was… well. He was the one who had been by Crowley’s side since this world began, the one who had seen the good in him (as much as he’d tried to deny it), accepted his failings, fought for him, saved his life, stuck by him even when he’d insisted on being a massive prick. He had weathered all that (and the almost-end of the world) and he was still here, still happy to have Crowley hanging around.

Still looking at him as if he were truly worth something.

Unable to quite process that, Crowley merely gaped at him.

“My dear, I will love you in whatever form you choose to take. Please don’t ever think you have to hide yourself from me.”

Crowley’s face did something complicated, like it wasn’t entirely sure how to express whatever emotion the demon was feeling, and rather than attempt to tame it into something that might be recognisable, he blinked.

As Aziraphale watched, Crowley’s form flickered, blurred, seemed to flow like liquid and pour down into the seat of his chair. Aziraphale craned his neck, but could make out little more than a dark puddle nestled into the cushion.

A moment later, Crowley peeked his head up above the arm of the chair, tentative, tongue darting out to taste the air. But it was the gaze that struck Aziraphale, still the same golden yellow eyes he had first been stunned by in Eden, that he had adored ever since, that were still as bright and beautiful now.

“There you are.”

Aziraphale marked his place in the book before rising from his desk, approaching the armchair as if drawn by some ineffable force. Crowley’s tongue flickered again but, sensing no threat, he stayed still, waiting. Aziraphale’s arm rose, almost of its own accord, but he stopped just short of touching, unsure if it was the done thing to just going ahead and stroke the face of your best friend without even stopping to ask first. It was Crowley who settled the matter, gliding forward until his head rested in Aziraphale’s palm. A perfect fit.

Aziraphale beamed, a smile that seemed to glow, and stroked gentle fingers between the ridges of his eyes, and his hand was so wonderfully warm.

“My darling boy,” Aziraphale said on a breath, captivated by the feel of the smooth scales beneath the pads of his fingers, “you’re stunning.”

Crowley had never been more grateful that snakes couldn’t blush.

Feeling a little drunk on the unconcealed admiration directed so openly at him (and yearning for more), Crowley shifted the length of his body, looping up over one arm of the chair to leave the seat free in what could only be an invitation. But Aziraphale, clever as he was, sometimes required a less subtle approach. Crowley swayed his head – snake turned charmer – delighting in the tiny little temptation. “Sssit, angel.”

It took only a moment’s deliberation for Aziraphale to comply, plopping himself down on the vacant cushion, as ready to yield to Crowley’s wishes as (almost) always. Immediately he was seated, Crowley slid into Aziraphale’s lap, coiling his body snugly, then slipped up one arm, across his shoulders, and down the other side, letting his head come to rest atop one wonderfully plump thigh.

With the warmth from the sun above, the heat from Aziraphale’s body below, and the scent of the angel enveloping him, Crowley struggled to think of a time he’d ever been more comfortable, more content. He felt a pang of regret; so many years they could have enjoyed moments like this, if only they had allowed themselves to forget the rules they had felt compelled to adhere to, the fears that had held them back for so long. Now, however, now they had no one watching them, no need to hide or pretend. It felt… well. It felt heavenly.

There was just one thing that would make it perfect…

Lazily lifting his head, he pressed his snout into Aziraphale’s hand, gently nudging until the angel got the hint and his fingers resumed their earlier caress, warm and soothing.

A flick of Crowley’s tail and Aziraphale received his reward, his book manifesting in his free hand.

“Oh!” His exclamation of surprise was full of delight. “Thank you, my dear!” He gave a little wiggle, settling them both further into the soft cushions, his fingers never ceasing their movement along Crowley’s scales.

It hadn’t been an entirely altruistic act, however, for so long as Aziraphale had a book in his hand, he wasn’t likely to move for several hours. And that suited Crowley just fine.

****

BONUS SNEK:

my brain at 1am after completing this fic: draw the thing!

me: but i cannot art!

also me: *puts finger to phone*

#good omens #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #snake!crowley #snek snuggles #also featuring questionable 'art' #fiction #terrible fanart

[aziraphales-library]

hello there! i was wondering if you or anyone here might know of a fic where - in the beggining - crowley is unable to speak and his hands/fingers were broken, so aziraphale heals them somewhat to help crowley sign? i've read In Silence Our Secrets Lie by IneffableToreshi and Silence and Strength by ranguvar82 (both highly recommended!) - any other fics with deaf/mute crowley would be welcome! thank you so much for the work you do!

Here are some you might be interested in, dear!

A Quiet Misunderstanding by Ecchima (G)

It wasn't the first time Crowley went mute for a little while, just quietly enjoying Aziraphale's presence. It was, however, the first time it lasted more than a week...

A story I wrote to share one of my headcanons about my book boys, regarding words and languages.

In Loving Silence by ranguvar82 (M)

Aziraphale Fell is a wealthy gallery owner who every year picks an unknown artist to display. This year, he's selected Anthony J Crowley based on his brilliant paintings of outer space. He's already blown away by his talent. But when he meets the artist, he finds himself captivated not only by his beauty, but by his silent way of communicating.

Crowley knows what a privilege it is to get into the Fell Gallery. He knows that it means prestige and renown. What he doesn't know is that Aziraphale Fell is about to awaken a part of Crowley that he never knew existed, a part that will do anything to please.

Let Me Care For You by Astieria_Wandering (G)

Crowley wakes up disoriented, hungover, and with a mysteriously sore throat. Not wanting to worry Aziraphale he decides to take care of it on his own. That's just the way it has always been and he doesn't think one messed up apocalypse is going to change that.

Aziraphale, is worried, he's never seen the demon get sick, he didn't know occult beings could get sick but he wants to be there for his oldest friend. They're on their own side now and he wants to show the demon the care he knows he deserves.

~Mod P

#good omens #asks #anon #mod p #sign language #deaf crowley #mute crowley #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #adult omens #ecchima #ranguvar82 #astieria_wandering

[demonologist-in-denim]

“Dean, that whiskey is meant for sterilizing wounds and acting as an analgesic. It is not meant for casual consumption. And no, stubbing your baby toe does not count as a medical emergency.” – Castiel, probably 

As his angelic powers decrease after helping to close the Gates of Heaven and joining the boys, Cas would need a new purpose. A new way to contribute. In his gruff (secretly well-meaning) way, Crowley would point out that healing comes naturally to Cas. And that it is something that is often in short supply for the Winchesters, as well as other hunters, for victims, and for the vast majority of non-humans. After giving the matter his usual solemn (Crowley would call it constipated) consideration, Cas would announce he is determined to be the team’s medic.

At first, he would haphazardly fill an extra duffle bag of Dean’s with whatever basics they have on hand: aspirin, a few bandages, a thermometer, a massive orange for some emergency vitamin c. And just as Cas fumbled about as a fledging hunter and then human, for a time he would harry and harass the others during and after cases, dabbing at wounds, checking pulses, and examining bruises. Being more of a bother than anything, however well-meaning.

After one of the boys becomes seriously injured on a hunt, Cas would decide it was time to take his responsibilities more seriously. He would begin by learning basic first aid. Some he would learn from actual professional hands-on training and webinars, some he would piece together from what Dean and Sam learned over the years. He would learn stitches from Sam, the value of frozen bags of peas from Jody, and how to sterilize wounds with alcohol from Dean (of course). He would learn a bit of herbcraft from Rowena, and small healing spells that Crowley would begrudgingly share with him, using the demon’s barebones and gruff sort of spellcraft. Occasionally, Crowley would help by making poultices and herbal extracts. And the demon-turned-demonologist wouldn’t mind plying his old black market contacts to get pain meds and basic supplies like sterilized needles and fresh bandages.

Then Cas would begin to study human biology. He of course would know humans inside and out already, but they are complex creatures, and treating them would be different than knowing the makeup of their systems. He would obtain medical text books from local bookstores and universities, pouring over the most minute detail of recent medical discoveries and traditional home remedies alike. He would use his FBI credentials to observe surgeries at local hospitals, autopsies at local morgues, and make friends with the doctors and nurses and lab techs, who would explain to him the uses of lab equipment, let him stare into microscopes, and guide him in coming to terms with the fact that, with or without angelic powers, medical personnel are not miracles workers, and not everyone can be saved. 

The more Cas would learn, the more suffering he would know he couldn’t prevent - and how little he could actually do to care for these hunters, this human family, the he is now bonded to. He would develop a real passion for healing, for the strenuous study of the natural sciences, something his interest in insects and nature had already prepared him for. Cas would learn everything he could about herbal medicine, modern and biochemical medicine, alternative quasi-medicine - which Cas wouldn’t have much patience for - and battlefield triage. Because battle triage would be, after all, what he most often practiced. He would get his hands bloody with surgery. He would treat curses and hexes and the common cold. Cas would care and heal in every way available to a fallen angel.

Now, before a hunt, he would tightly pack properly wrapped bandages and sterilized surgical equipment in sealed plastic pouches. Clamps and swabs and forceps and surgical scissors and cloth scissors and a small hand saw. Tourniquets, and syringes, and braces for broken hands. Surgical gloves and masks (more for any human helpers than for himself), headlamps and extra batteries and a small torch meant for Crowley’s crème brulees. He would pack jars of ointments and poultices and herbs banded securely into zippered cases, iodine and alcohol, tiny tinkling bottles of penicillin, heparin to slow blood loss, general and local anesthetics, tetanus vaccines, and child-proof containers of pain meds which Cas would conservatively distribute and carefully guard. 

He would pack it all securely in a rucksack the boys had found, along with various other useful items, in a forgotten storage room in the bunker, where Sam and Dean had moved all the old Men of Letters personal items years ago. It smelled of old leather, sandalwood and Edwardian intellectual elitism, but it was also light, and fit well over Cas’s shoulder, and could comfortably carry everything he required. Like his wings once had, it would be a comfort to feel pressed against his back, as he and the others marched towards whatever peril awaited them.

Cas would take an interest in preventative medicine as well, taking to heart the notion that a good offense was a good defense, or some variance of that sports talk he never quite grasped. That meant encouraging the others – and himself – to take regular exercise, eat well, get sleep when they could, decrease their alcohol consumption (Dean didn’t like that one, but Crowley supported Cas in the notion, arguing that having died from alcoholism once, he had no desire to repeat the experience or sit by and watch Dean do the same), and get more sunlight than the bunker’s defenses allowed. Cas wouldn’t so much as win the fight for healthier foods at the Winchester table, as conspire with Crowley to provide irresistible morsels that could deceive a wary Winchester into believing he was eating his usual fare of fat and salt.

The angel-turned-medic would become to believe strongly in the medicinal quality of food, especially homemade meals. Soups and curries, broths and stews, vegetable hashes and salads laden with field greens. Hearty wheat loaves fresh from the oven, and raw milk from local dairies (it’s Kansas, after all), and the seasonal bounty of berries piled onto heaping helpings of porridge with hot honey. He would plant a small garden beyond the walls of the bunker, growing herbs and roots, flowers and basic ingredients for tonics. It would also be a place of quiet and meditation for Cas, as important to his well-being as the medicine for the bodies of his human companions. He would sit in his garden and commune with the insects and the birds and small woodland creatures and feel his essence becoming more and more like their own as divinity and grace reformed itself into soul.

And he would take great pride in learning to care for non-humans. Monsters, the Winchesters had called them once. And yet, now they counted among their friends angels and demons and self-restrained werewolves and reformed vampires and kitsune and all other sorts. And many of them unable to acquire even the most basic of medical care in a world that sees them as things to be hunted down and destroyed. Cas would contemplate that if werewolves require special dentistry, than likely other non-humans require special medical care, and would set himself to the task of acquiring the knowledge necessary to tend wounded friends and assist with basic care. That would lead him down a long road involving correcting lore with Crowley, learning medicinal magic with Rowena, teaching hunters with Sam and Dean, and earning a reputation across the supernatural world for his skills and his empathy.

Cas would find himself a place not as an angelic healer, capable of the miracles he had once so easily managed, but for his dedication and forthrightness, his willingness to learn, his eagerness to help, and his lack of judgement for those in need. He would sit by bedsides offering honesty as much as comfort, develop with Crowley and others a deeper understanding of what their family creed of “saving people” truly meant, and bridge the theological gap between those to be hunted and those to be healed. It would be a long road from the angel he had been, who saw abominations before him, who felt useless without wings, to the man and the medic he is now. But Cas would decide he had found a fulfilling purpose, and a place with his family.

If you enjoyed this lengthy bit of character development / analysis (or whatever this is) for One of the Boys, check out the one about Crowley and his version of spellcraft. Since I’ve touched on it so often here and in recent chapters of Bergamot & Sulphur, I might take some time and do one of these for demonology as well.

#castiel #cas #one of the boys #medic!Cas #healer!Cas #human!Cas #though he's not really fully human yet #character analysis #mood board #happy Sulphur Saturday

[seexseexseex]

Love under Will: Sexuality, Magic & Liberation by Phil Hine

I am the flame that burns in every heart of man, and in the core of every star. I am Life, and the giver of Life, yet therefore knowledge of me is the knowledge of death.Liber AL, II, 6. At a time when Magic is (supposedly) undergoing a renaissance, with core ideas & techniques presented in a clear and open manner, Sexual Magic remains entangled in glamours and misconceptions. There is little published material, it seems, which deals with the subject clearly. It is usually the case that Sexual Magic is shrouded (sometimes "drowned") in symbolic asides and allusions. To begin with, what actually constitutes an act of Sexual Magic? A broad definition is: that it is the harnessing of one’s own sexuality with intentionality - literally "Love Under Will", to bring about change. This implies a great deal more than the waving of rods, wands, cups, and roses. Celibacy, as a conscious decision not to be sexually active can be as much an act of Sexual Magic as any ritualised copulation or masturbation. The basis of Sexual Magic is to understand, and experience sexuality as sacred or "Magical". Sexuality is probably the most powerful means of transformation, discovery and knowledge that Humanity has. This is why sexuality is effectively put under 'lock and key' by our Society. The Judeo-Christian attitude to sexuality has become "embedded" in the cultural psyche, to the extent that many of us feel that sexual expression is "naturally" followed by shame and guilt. For orthodox Christianity, sexuality can never be entirely sinless, even within the confines of marriage. The onset of the "Permissive Society" is supposed to have freed us from past constraints and inhibitions, but has it? Sexuality has become another brand of commodity, another source of status. Although we tend to regard our own sexual natures in terms of privacy and "naturalness", it is subject to a great deal of interference and manipulation from external agents. There is a media-borne cultural imperative that we must be good at sex; that success is dependant on the number of orgasms that we can wring from our partners, or indeed from the number of partners we have. For many of us, sexuality is a major means of gaining status and Egocentric power, associated with imposing ones will upon others. The key factor in Rape for example, appears to be that of the male demonstrating his power over another person (woman or weaker male). Society acts to channel sexual energy into acceptable forms - those which maintain alienation; channels such as Sentimental Romanticism and Pornography. More powerful and invasive than any medieval incubi are the neuroses, obsessions and acts of violence which seem to be the inevitable spawn of this Sexual Nihilism. A characteristic of this profoundly Egocentric sexuality is that ones partner is regarded as little more than an instrument to satisfy ones own needs (be they physical or status needs). Human emotions are alienated in the scramble for consumer gratification; in goods, wealth, success, and the conquering of each others orifices. These cultural imperatives, to be successful and goal-oriented in every area of Life, are so deeply embedded that we only tend to notice the most obvious manifestations of them - with regard to work, for example. They can easily pass unnoticed in the very personal domain in which we place our own sexuality, and equally importantly, our sense of "Spirituality". As a result of the cult~ral emphasis placed on goal-orientation, a good deal of what passes for Western Occultism is also goal-oriented. Western Sexual Magic is no exception. There is a tendency to regard Sexual Magic as merely a 'better' way to acquire goods, "powers" or wealth, and there is great emphasis placed on the necessity of visualisation, inhibition of orgasm and mental concentration, rather than bodily awareness and pleasure. This seems to be a rather clinical and narrow approach to sexual potential- as Zach Cox put it (in Aquarian Arrow 22) "like using a microprocessor chip as a doorstop". Part of the problem that Western Sexual Magic suffers from is the enshrinement of the ideas of Aleister Crowley, who is often held up as a paragon of the 'new sexuality.’ However, Pansexuality such as Crowley displayed does not automatically imply total sexual liberation. Though a great innovator and synthesist, Crowley was unable to disentangle himself from the prevailing sexual mores of his time. His sexual philosophy displays a typical (and enduring) dualistic attitude towards women, placing his "idealised" women on a pedestal, yet seemingly unable to accept women as equals. Examples of his Egocentricity are not hard to find: "At about 8.45pm I was on 34th St & Broadway, looking for a soul-mate, a destined bride, an affinity, a counterpartal ego etc.; and should have considered the conditions satisfied by any orifice into which I could plunge my penis at a cost not exceeding $2.50". Rex De Arte Regia. Crowley’s approach to Sexual Magic seems to have been almost totally results-oriented, with his numerous opera for money, fascination, success, youth and magical energy. He implies that the partner in such a working is secondary to the will of the Mage, the selection of an appropriate partner being left to unconscious caprice Unfortunately for present-day occultists, there is little material available concerning the work and ideas of the women who followed Crowley’s system. Doubtless much of Crowley’s attraction as a guru-figure is the way his attitudes uphold male Egocentcic sexual values. All the material currently available on the subject of "suitability" of partners" is male-oriented, and serves to maintain a kind of imbalance On the one hand there is Louis T. Culling’s attitude: "Often, a woman who has studied occultism becomes impossible because she has too many preconceived ideas which are not in agreement with her role as a good, cooperative partner. If there is any possible rapport, the woman becomes responsive automatically to the aspiration of the male, and after this has happened, it would be very easy to give her an explanation and an understanding of the magical aspects" A Manual of Sex Magick, p25. while on the other hand, there is Kenneth Grants implication that Tantra is well-nigh impossible nowadays, due to the lack of suitable partners: "Western women who possess the required traits are rare, and as they have not the hereditary advantage of initiation into occult techniques - as have certain African and oriental women - the sudden impact of magical energy on their personalities tends to disturb their sanity" Aleister Crowley & the Hidden God, p84. Grant notes that according to Tantric practice, woman is the initiatrix of the male, but seems to hold the opinion that such women are a rarity in the West. Although the bulk of his writing is set towards the task of producing a sexual metaphysic based on the "occult" properties of menstruation, it seems to be distant from women in that there are many references about women as the Priestess or Suvasini - but almost nothing from women themselves on this subject. The focus of this issue of "suitability" is couched wholly, it seems, in terms or occult metaphysics. Nowhere is it mentioned that it is beneficial for all concerned to be working on their own sexual/emotional conditioning, or that empathic sensitivity to, and even understanding of ones partners needs and feelings could be paramount. It is these ordinary, Human qualities that are lost in the vast symbolic metastructures that Grant erects. One has the feeling that those who are not party to the ramifications of these "secrets" are not worth considering in terms of degrees of initiation Initiatory experience in areas of life other than the occult does not seem to matter Given this attitude, it does not seem likely that "Priestesses", at least in the way Grant seems to be depicting them, will "re-emerge", since women seem to be tacitly excluded from assuming a coequal role with males, as it is the latter who have erected the metasystem in the first place: "As it is we can but preserve the formula, confident that the present magical revival will discover genuine Priestesses to serve our mass." Aleister Crowley & the Hidden God. Given the current developments in male and female consciousness, it is more likely that the "Priestesses" are already out there waiting for us men to get our act together! It does seem to be a feature of male-oriented Magic that the emphasis is upon building these heavily intellectual metasystems, which are removed from 'everyday reality'. In contrast to this, "Women’s Mysteries" seem to revolve around aspects of daily experience - birth, sexuality, creation, nurturing, menstruation and Death. It appears that "High Magic" is largely concerned with acting within an abstract "inner-space" that has few points of contact with the consciousness of daily experience. I feel that this distinction should be emphasised, as the whole character of Magic is changing. There is a movement away from it being a kind of developmental process which is seen purely in occult terms, that has nothing in common with other spheres of life This traditional attitude is being supplanted by the idea of Magic as a fully integrative process of self-transformation. There has been a rekindling of the power of Magic in making connections, in communicating with, guiding, healing, and "reaching out" to one another, rather than an entirely personal inner-initiation. As 'the general emphasis of Magic changes, so too has there been a shift in attitudes regarding Sexual Magic. Intimations of this shift can be discerned in the writings of Dion Fortune. Her influence upon developing Western Sexual Magic comes from her novels, rather than from her non-fictional output. The underlying theme in her works, especially The Sea Priestess and Moon Magic concerns the intense consummation achieved by the partnership between a man who is in some way "wounded" and a woman who, to further her own Magical intent, takes on the role of the initiatrix. The Priestess "Vivien Morgan" chooses her partner, initiates him and then withdraws. Fortunes writing displays levels of feeling; of intuition and cycles which was absent in the writings of her male contemporaries. There is a fine understanding displayed of how "magical" development blends with ones relationship to life-changes in general. Fortunes approach to Sexual Magic is concerned with interpersonal transformation rather than goal or inwardlydirected experience. Her treatment of Pan for example, in "The Goat-foot God"is more concerned with the inspiration and awareness of "a Greater Whole" than the rutting, phallocentric Pan that typifies Crowley’s approach to sexuality. The Return of the Goddesses Over the last two decades, one of Humanity’s oldest cultural influences has begun to be reasserted, in the return of the Goddesses. Within the Occult subculture, this has manifested as the growth of Wicca and Earth-based Paganism, and in the wider culture of course as the rise of Feminism and the articulation of female consciousness. Wicca places great emphasis upon Sexual Magic. Doreen Valiente, in Witchcraft for Tomorrow notes the similarities apparent between Witchcraft and Tantra: the emphasis on balance between the sexes, the central role of the Priestess as initiator and Earthly representative of the Goddess. The focus of Wicca is directed outwards - into Nature and awareness of cycles (both intrapsychic and Natural rhythm), rather than a highly abstract metastructure. So the emphasis upon Sexual Magic is towards fertility rites and participation in seasonal changes. Some Wiccan writers see their attitude to Sexual Magic as the Hieros Gamos, the sacred marriage between Gods and Humanity There is also the idea of Sexual Magic as a means of "passing power from initiator to new-initiate" (Galadriel, in The Lamp of Thoth, Vol.1 No.2). Again, this shows a shift towards harnessing sexuality as a means to a process of engagement, rather than simply being another technique for acquiring results The rise of Feminism is also a very important factor in considering the shifting emphasis of Sexual Magic. John Rowan (1987) puts it in these terms: "…women starting to notice that the whole thing (i.e. the Sexual Revolution against Victorian attitudes) had been organised by men, with male assumptions and male values, for the benefit of men. The way in which women had been supposed to participate was by being like men in every way". The Horned God. The growth of Feminist ideology saw women demanding self-definition in their own terms, and a recognition of a female culture that is as important as that of male culture. Awareness of the necessity of this process has been growing steadily, not only at the socio-political level, but also as a Spiritual endeavour. It has showed up the glaring omissions in the "traditions" of Patriarchyderived Occult systems. There is now a resurgence of Women rediscovering, and recovering their own "Mysteries" as evinced in the work of Lynn Andrews, Barbara Walker and Monica Sjoo and others. A particularly important crossover for the development of Magic is the work of Starhawk, who provides a Feminist approach to Spiritual/Transpersonal development for both women and men. Her book Dreaming the Dark connects the values of Wicca with a developing Feminist/Therapeutic current. sexuality is seen of in far wider terms than techniques and metaphysics ( which can be seen as being bound up with male values of prowess & potency). Starhawk writes of the idea of the archetypes of Goddesses and Horned Cod providing possible re-evaluations of male and female, - beyond the constraints of Patriarchal culture. Exploring one’s sexuality through these archetypes is a way of transcending our cultural mores about masculinity and femininity. sexuality is understood as "a deep connecting power" (Starhawk, 1982). This is a far cry from the "traditional" ethos of Sexual Magic. The focus has shifted from a "bits" approach, to Sexual Magic as a distinct set of techniques; to an emphasis which regards sexuality as just one aspect of a whole process of transformation. This is very close to the idea of Sexuality as a means to "Liberation" mentioned earlier. But of course, such Liberation is not only Spiritual, but sexual, social and political. Sexuality & Intimacy Sexual Magic as a path to Liberation is a core idea within Tantric philosophy, but does not seem to have been widely explored in Western Magic. It involves the redefinition of gender stereotypes, exploring relationships beyond the cultural confines, and exploring personal sexuality. Exploring sexuality becomes a means to knowledge, both of self and others. This Gnosis (Knowledge of the Heart) can take us beyond our cultural norms and limitations, to actively engage in the realisation of the post-patriarchal individual Very closely linked with this process is the recovery of Love from its imprisonment in consumer-romanticism. Western ideas of Love have become gradually warped by the concept of Egotistical possession, so that the language of Love is equivalent, to a large degree, to the language of ownership. Love bound by rules, duties, morals and projected by television and commerce serves to maintain the alienation of men and women from themselves and each other. The transformational power of Sexual Energy thus becomes destructive, maintaining the wedge driven between self and other, mind and body, Ego and Exo. However it is possible for Love to be discovered despite these cultural blinds. This is the experience of Love as a Spiritual, inwardly-felt quality. again, this idea is emphasised in Tantra, but not in Western Magic (until fairly recently). It appears in the concept of Courtly or Sublime Love idealised by the European Troubadours, considered as heretical by the church. This Sublime Love is spoken of as a positive force that reaches out towards others, taking them on a journey of expansion. The key to Sublime Love is the "Deep Trust and Intimacy" experienced by the partners involved. Again, this recalls a Tantric idea, that the partners in acts of Sexual Magic be beloved to each other. This recognition (when it has actually been stated in Western writings on Sex Magic) tends to have been formerly restricted to statements that Sexual Magic is only valid when carried out by long-established ("married") partners, or else it becomes somehow "Black". This refers of course to Sexual Magic purely in terms of genital activity. However, when the focus of attention shifts from a narrowly-defined view of Sexuality, to one of intimacy (ofwhich physical sex is only one aspect), there also opens the possibility of intimacy in relationships other than those of conventional exclusivity, Close intimacy can develop within a "closed" magical group, without it necessarily moving into what we would otherwise call wife-swapping or group sex. Intimacy and Deep Trust in a group setting are powerful generators of a Group Gestalt which acts as a tribe or clan to each participant. To the prurient, this will be dismissed as an excuse for orgia, but exploration of intimacy can lead to a greater sense of involvement in both the group, and the wider process of transformation. The emphasis is shifted towards mutual growth and development, rather than the pursuit of sexual Conquests that appears to be so rampant in modern Occult groups. Indeed, the exploration of intimacy could almost be a necessity for Magical groups, where there undercurrents of sexual dynamics (attraction, anxiety, jealousy etc.) which develop when members become attracted to others outside their usual relationships, can quickly destroy a groups coherence Ritualised Sex in a group setting is only destructive when there is a lack of trust and intimacy between those taking part. An American Psychologist, Mosher (1980) researching into intimacy found that 'the level of intimacy a person experiences is related to the degree of expression, awareness, and interpersonal contact that is experienced during sex. According to Mosher there are three levels of intimacy; Ego-centred, Surface-centred and Core-centred. Ego-centred involvement only concerns Egocentric gratification; one’s partner being at best an instrument to fulfil physical or status needs.' Surface-centred involvement centres on sexual performance and pleasure, both of self and partner. Core-centred involvement however is typified by the desire at open oneself fully to the partner, or at its "peak" the experience of Bliss and loss of Ego-boundary. There is also 'the implication that once a new level (or depth) of involvement is attained, that those formerly experienced are in future, no longer wholly satisfying in the way they might once have been. It is this "Numinous" experience of sexuality which most closely corresponds to the Tantric experience of Sexual Ecstasy. But in Western Society, the energy liberated by such experience tends to be diverted into the culturally accepted channels of expression - those which maintain the boundaries of Egocentric involvement. Attachment in terms of possession, with all its attendant anxiety and Neurosis. If these constraints can be transcended (which obviously will take a long time and good deal of effort) then the intensity generated can facilitate a "breakout" from the inertia imposed by society. Lovers can find enough support and energy in each other to reject the cultural limitations and seek new forms of living, free to move in any direction. Obviously, blissful sex cannot of itself wipe away a lifetime of conditioning, but it can be an    impetus towards further development in all areas of awareness. Sexual bliss is a powerful Gnosis for imprinting a new vision of reality, as recognised by Timothy Leary in his theory of Neurological circuits. A first experience of the Numinous often marks the "trigger" for an individual’s transformational journey, and each subsequent experience of bliss provides further impetus for the process. It is the "heat" generated by such alchemical processes which moves the psyche from a condition of static identification (Ego-centric) to one of engagement and flow (Exo-centric). Starhawk writes of this sexual alchemy as: "…an exchange of energy, of subtle nourishment, between people. Through connection with each other, we connect with all". The Spiral Dance It is important to note that psychic structures cannot be "wiped away" completely by the transformational process, but they can be built on, and replaced by structures that are more adaptable, open to uncertainty and change. For men this involves letting go of the male Ego, and what John Rowan calls "surrendering to the Goddess". "Experiencing the Goddess through us, completes men and brings them into our world." Alathea the Shamoon This "surrendering" or willing sacrifice is the beginning of a process of psychic death, which leads ultimately to rebirth into a world of participation and engagement. For males, this psychic meeting with the power of the Goddesses - in the form of the Dark Destroyer (for example Kali, Hecate or the Morrigan) has a powerful transformative potential. The Goddess in her dark aspect is the gateway to the Underworld, the place of psychic dissection and restructuring. This aspect of woman appears in Patriachal culture as the male fantasy of the sexually uninhibited woman also linked with the anxiety-creating image of woman as castrator and devourer. If Will can be directed towards change, then any Magical process involving psychic restructuring ca lead to change in outward areas of life - interpersonal and social. The power of the Goddesses (Shakti in Tantric terminology) as experienced by men, opens us to an experience of empowerment (power not couched in male terms). We can recognise that the possibilities of transformation lie within us, which should lessen the tendency to project Egocentric needs onto women. The reality of this Goddess-experience is difficult to deny or rationalise away, once it becomes immediate and heartfelt. This experience of Devi must surely begin to loosen our cultural conditioning. It is part of the painful process of absorption and rebirth - a rebirth into participation. The Way Forwards? Liberation implies the freedom of the whole being, at all levels and in all areas of action. It is a change which is fundamental and total. It is not enough to ignore or try and wish away our current situation. The necessity of "obedience to awareness" is brought home with every update on our headlong plunge to self-destruction. In many ways this essay is a statement of my   personal views of Sexual Magic, as a way of uncovering, energising and realising our potential to evolve as Humans. The insights gained through the process of transformation give us glimpses of future possibilities, which we can then attempt to live towards. At the moment we know very little about what it means to be male of female, beyond the boundaries of Patriarchy. Growing up, or evolving is a hard and painful struggle, but we cannot resist it forever. Magic is a possible avenue by which we may at first glimpse, then realise these possibilities. This to me, is the essential nature of "I.ove Under Will". Bibliography · Aquarian Arrow magazine, no.22 · Crowley, Aleister - De Arte Regia, Liber Agapé · Culling, Louis T. - A Manual of Sex Magick · Grant, Kenneth - Aleister Crowley & the Hidden God · Magee, Mike - A Lecture on Tantrika (in VITRIOL magazine, no.2) · Richardson, Alan - Dancers to the Gods · Rowan, John - The Horned God · Starhawk - Dreaming the Dark, The Spiral Dance · Shual, Katon - Sexual Magick & Sexual Politics (in Nuit-Isis magazine issues 1 & 2) · Valiente, Doreen - Witchcraft for Tomorrow This article first appeared in Chaos International magazine, issue 4, 1988.

[ineffably-good]

Changes (2/3)

Summary: In which a small, pet snake is determined to be faking his death, an angel's sleep is rudely disrupted, and Frederick makes peace with what he now knows about Crowley. 

Chapter one is here

..............................

Chapter 2

“What’s wrong with him?” Aziraphale shrieked as Frederick went limp in his hands. “Did he faint? Did he have a heart attack? Oh, Crowley, is he dead?”

Crowley shifted back to human form, shaking his head clear from the unpleasantly quick transition, and knelt over to peer at the motionless snake. He picked him up and laid him on the coffee table where he could take a closer look. The angel, near hysterics, snapped and called down a beam of heavenly light to illuminate the snake more clearly.

“No, I don’t think so,” the demon said after a moment. “He looks dead, but I feel like he’s breathing.”

“We broke him! We are the worst pet parents ever!” Aziraphale sobbed, clearly beginning to panic. His breath got faster and faster and he began to look unusually, frighteningly pale.

“Angel!” Crowley growled, putting some demonic anger into his voice in order to firmly get Aziraphale’s attention. He took an insistent hold of his shoulders and kept his voice forceful. “Calm. Down. You are NOT going to faint on me, are you? Because so help me, if you leave me with two unconscious drama queens, I am NOT going to handle it well!”

It had the desired effect, he noted – Aziraphale looked startled, then embarrassed, and then attempted to settle down a little. He didn’t seem to trust himself to speak, but instead waved his hand in a sorry-please-go-ahead fashion and stared at Frederick, clearly trying to still his wobbling lower lip.

“We did <i>not</i> break him,” Crowley said consolingly, laying a hand on Aziraphale’s knee. “I think he’s just being a little dramatic.”

Aziraphale frowned for a moment. “You mean…”

“Some snakes play dead when they face a big, overwhelming threat,” Crowley said. “Makes predators think they’ve been poisoned or something, so they won’t eat them. In this case, makes their owners feel bad. Either way, it’s a win for the snake.”

Aziraphale took a deep and calming breath and looked at Frederick consideringly. “He’s just scared,” he breathed, wonderingly. “I think I read about that in one of the snake books…”

“Fred, my friend,” Crowley cooed softly. “I’m <i>not</i> going to eat you. Also, I know damn well you’re not dead.”

Frederick resolutely ignored them both and continued to do his best corpse impression.

“He won’t,” Aziraphale confirmed helpfully, “eat you, that is. I promise. He barely eats anything.”

Crowley rolled his eyes at this super helpful interjection.

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“I wouldn’t eat you even if I <i>did</i> eat. It’s just that when I was made, I was made a serpent in form, and something else on the inside” Crowley said. “Actually, I’m THE serpent. The first one in all the world.” He touched Frederick gently on his belly scales and petted him. “You were made in my image, so to speak.”

Frederick moved a tiny fraction of an inch.

“Think of me as your big brother,” Crowley said. “At least, when I’m in that form. We can--” he scrambled for words, “--hang out. Do snake things.”

Aziraphale gave him a dubious look. Really? Hang out?

Crowley mimed a shrug. What? I’m trying.

Frederick lifted his head a half centimeter before flopping back down with his best dramatic shiver, but he snuck an appraising look at Crowley as he did so.

“Oh, you melodramatic, manipulative little noodle,” Aziraphale said in intense relief, picking him up and holding him to his chest. “You’re fine. You know no one here is going to eat you.”

Frederick sighed and slithered a tongue out, tentatively.

I MIGHT FEEL BETTER IF SOMEONE WOULD GIVE ME A MOUSICLE, he thought.

Crowley again frowned for a moment, then shook his head and hopped up to his feet. He headed back to the kitchen. “Let’s give him a mouse and let him take it out on something smaller than him. He just needs time to think it over.”

Frederick hissed in relief as they placed him back in his cage and began to work on swallowing his treat. At least he was bigger than <i>one</i> creature in this strange place.

 ..

<i>Do I have wings?</i> Frederick thought later that night. That would certainly even the playing field a little bit. If the huge snake had wings some of the time, he didn’t see why he shouldn’t be able to manifest some too. He curled up and concentrated as powerfully as he could, wriggling his back a little bit, and tried his hardest to make some big, black and red wings unfold out of his back. To his disappointment, nothing happened. No pop, no poof, no whoomph of air.

He curled around and investigated his back. Just scales. Scales from tip to tail.

Apparently, he thought disconcertedly, the fluffy one could be fluffy or could be a bird, the pointy one could be his usual pointy self or a bird <i>or</i> a snake, which just seemed a little excessive and show-off-y now that he thought about it, and he, well he was just – just a small, black snake with no special powers.

This hardly seemed fair.

He settled down to sulk about it until morning.

 **

Crowley laid in bed that night unable to drift off. He turned to Aziraphale, who had gotten rather noticeably better at this sleeping thing all of a sudden, and reached over to gently fluff his pillow. Then he fluffed it a little harder. Then, when that failed to work, he pulled it out from underneath the angel entirely.

“Wha-?” said Aziraphale, coming to rather quickly.

“Oh?” Crowley said, the picture of innocence. “You’re up? Oh good.”

Aziraphale frowned at him, not fooled in the least. “You needed something?” he said flatly.

“I was just wondering,” Crowley said, aware that he was about to sound a little crazy, “if you ever get the feeling that Frederick is trying to tell you something.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Well certainly, my dear. He communicates quite well with his coils and his posture and the state of his fangs and all the various noises and facial expressions he makes –”

“No, no,” Crowley said, “that’s not what I mean at all. I mean, I feel like he’s actually talking to me sometimes.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said firmly, “you’ve been watching too much Harry Potter. Go to sleep. There’s no such thing as parseltongue.”

Crowley swatted Aziraphale’s arm semi-gently. “Very funny. But I’m serious. I’m starting to hear words sometimes when he looks at me.”

“Such as?”

“Well, today I had the strongest sensation that someone said ‘oh for fuck’s sake’ when you first told him I needed to show him something.”

Aziraphale made a sound that was halfway between a snort and a laugh. “You must be imagining it! Besides, Frederick wouldn’t curse.”

Crowley fixed Aziraphale with a flat, disbelieving look. “Have you <i>met</i> him?”

“All right, point conceded,” the angel said. “He is rather a grump. But honestly, is that possible?”

“I’m not sure,” Crowley said. “But it happened a couple times today.”

Aziraphale pulled Crowley into a loose hug. “We can experiment tomorrow and see. For now, will you please just go to sleep?”

Crowley let himself be lulled into the night, at least for a while.

++

Crowley woke up early the next morning – well early for a demon, which was near lunch time for most of the rest of London. Nonetheless, it was early enough to feel almost virtuous, a thought that made him consider diving back under the covers for another hour or two. He managed to fight it off. He slithered into his clothes and headed down the stairs to see what mischief he could cause.

Aziraphale was out, to his chagrin, but had left a note on the desk that he was attending to some business in Notting Hill and would be back after lunch. Crowley, with nothing better to do, pulled an armchair over into a sunny spot. He then gathered up Frederick’s reed basket, in which he was currently snoring, and sat down with the basket in his lap.

“Oi, snake,” he said softly, “wake up.”

Frederick roused himself with a hiss of surprise and then looked up at Crowley with a bit of alarm in his eyes. Sure, he was person-sized right now, but would he stay that way? He still wasn’t one hundred percent sure what he thought about all of this. His emotions were at war between worried and impressed, between fearful and intensely jealous. He stared at Crowley and kept his mind blank, flickering his tongue out nonchalantly to cover for his nerves.

Crowley leaned down and fixed him with a gaze. “We okay, then, buddy? Still friends?”

Frederick took a long moment to consider the pros and cons of various answers to that question. If he refused to be okay with Crowley, he’d probably get lots of extra attention from the fluffy one for a while. It would be lovely to be coddled and pampered and overindulged for a few weeks. Plus, it was always enjoyable to lord it over the pointy guy when <i>he</i> was the one being petted and fussed over by Aziraphale. That was tempting, to be sure.

However, if he made peace, he could gain the unique opportunity to hang out with a really, REALLY big snake. And, given certain assurances that no one was going to be eating anyone else, that could be pretty interesting. He could learn some things he didn’t know right now, like how to better bring down the next bird he tussled with, and what to do about the fact that his scales itched sometimes, and what it meant to be venomous versus poisonous. (Was he either? Frederick had no idea, so he blithely assumed he was both.) Plus, the pointy one obviously had some magical powers, after all, and who knew if he couldn’t fulfill Frederick’s fondest wish, if he so chose – for wings of his own? It was possible.  

Frederick steeled himself to act nicely for a moment. He uncoiled to the top rim of the basket, made eye contact with Crowley, and booped his hand with his forehead in a conciliatory manner.

“All right, Frederick, good decision!” Crowley said, looking pleased. “Because you and I have a <i>lot</i> to talk about.”

++

When Aziraphale came home two hours later, he was startled to find not one but two snakes in his bookshop, curled up together by the right-hand shop window, angled exactly right to bring the sun directly down onto them, bathing their scales in a soft, golden glow. Crowley was pooled up in various loops on the armchair with a few hanging off of it down to the ground, and curled up in the midst of the pile was Frederick, happily snoring away with his head coiled over part of Crowley’s back and his eyes gently unfocused.

“Well I see you two made up,” Aziraphale said wryly, just to cover the way that his heart was almost bursting at the sight.

Crowley-the-snake focused his gaze on him and hissed quietly. “S-s-s-s-sh,” he said. “He’s s-s-s-s-s-leeping.”

“I can see that,” Aziraphale said, fondly. “You two are adorable.”

“Not adorable. We’re s-s-s-snakes.”

“Ah, well,” Aziraphale said, “we’re going to have to disagree on that one.”

He leaned down and laid a kiss on the top of Crowley’s coils, cast one more fond look at his little Frederick happily snoring away with his new friend, and went off to put his things away.

“No pictures-s-s-s-s,” Crowley called after him. “I mean it.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Aziraphale replied airly, with absolutely no intention of adhering to that particular edict. This was, of course, too good to miss. He just needed to wait until they both settled back down again.

Whole work (and a lot more, including Frederick’s origin story, available on AO3!

#good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #snek fiction #snake crowley #aziraphale nearly discorporates himself from panic #can't get enough of stern crowley #frederick is a little drama queen #my fics #serpent and the seagull series #changes