#oh to only know the version of this story where the angel and demon are actually gay and people dont draw aziraphale with blue eyes. sigh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queerfables · 7 months

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Alright GO fans, let's talk Sodom and Gomorrah. This biblical story comes up a few times in Good Omens canon, a kind of offhand mention each time, and the most interesting part to me is the implication that Aziraphale was there.

If you only know the cliff-notes version, you've probably heard it as the story of God condemning homosexuality to the point of wiping out several cities over it. Maybe you've heard this too, but - that's not exactly what happened. Look, I'm an atheist, I have no dog in this race. If I thought it was about smiting people for homosexuality, I'd be happy to call God a wanker and move on. But I've read the story of Sodom and Gomorrah (You can too! It's very short!) and I've read other parts of the Bible that reference it, and I think a much more straightforward interpretation is that it's about offering hospitality and protection to strangers. It's also about the consequences of wanton cruelty, and God laying waste to those deemed beyond salvation.

In Good Omens, the book, Aziraphale and Crowley discuss Sodom and Gomorrah this way:

"Come off it. Your lot get ineffable mercy," said Crowley sourly.

"Yes? Did you ever visit Gomorrah?"

"Sure," said the demon. "There was this great little tavern where you could get these terrific fermented date-palm cocktails with nutmeg and crushed lemongrass-"

"I meant afterwards."

"Oh."

According to the book, then, Aziraphale at least saw the city after it was destroyed. Maybe Crowley saw the aftermath too or maybe he just heard about it. They both understand it as horrific.

The show is more direct, and suggests that Aziraphale was there during the actual destruction. Gabriel asks if Aziraphale remembers Sandalphon. Aziraphale does.

"Sodom and Gomorrah. You were doing a lot of smiting and turning people into salt. Hard to forget."

Aziraphale regards Sandalphon warily during the conversation. I believe we're supposed to interpret this scene based on the popular understanding of Sodom and Gomorrah as cities that God wiped out because of the inhabitants' sins. The obvious implication, then, is that Sandalphon is the heavy, the one called in to deal with disobedience. He's trigger-happy, relishes violence, and Aziraphale has seen what he's capable of. From the careful way Aziraphale discusses their prior acquaintance, I think he feels the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah was a tragedy and believes Heaven's actions were disproportionate and unjust.

I'm confident this is how we're supposed to read the scene. In the context of the story, we're supposed to understand that Aziraphale doesn't approve of the smiting, and that he feels threatened by Gabriel and Sandalphon coming into his bookshop and pressing him about Armageddon. But I'm fascinated by what it would mean if Aziraphale and Sandalphon's history really tracks onto the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. Because if Good Omens' version of Sodom and Gomorrah is at all biblically accurate, and if Aziraphale was there... it's kind of mind-blowing, actually, that he still feels so much compassion for the people who died and still thinks Sandalphon was wrong.

I'm going to explain why, but fair warning, it gets ugly. I promise nobody is actually raped, and I think that promise in itself says plenty.

According to the Bible, Sodom and its surrounding cities are accused of being overrun with sin. God sends two angels to Sodom to verify this, intending to destroy everything if they find it to be true. In the world of Good Omens, I think one of these angels must be Aziraphale. The other one is likely Sandalphon, but in the Bible it's God rather than either of the angels who rains down burning sulfur on the cities so it's possible it's someone else, and Sandalphon is only on smiting duty. Without anything else to go on, though, let's assume it's Sandalphon.

So our two angels arrive at Sodom in the evening, and at the gate to the city, they meet Lot. Lot is an immigrant who has made his home in Sodom, and I think the implication is that this is why he's not completely steeped in sin like everyone else. In any case, he immediately offers to put the angels up for the night, and although they'd planned to stay in the square, Lot is really insistent. He is a good host! Also, he knows the city is dangerous. So the angels go to his house and he makes dinner for them, and then before they can go to bed, a mob shows up at the door.

See, the men of Sodom have heard about the strangers staying with Lot. They surround his house and demand he hand them over. The New King James Version puts it this way: And they called to Lot and said to him, "Where are the men who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us that we may know them carnally." Several other translations say that the men wanted to "have sex with them". But I mean. It's a fucking mob. They've surrounded the house. We all get what this is, right?

So Lot goes out to meet the men, and he says "Don't do this terrible thing." Off to a good start! Then he says, "Tell you what, I have two virgin daughters. Do what you like to them and we'll say no more about it." Oh boy. Dad of the year award, right there. But still, he insists, "The angels are under my roof and my protection."

The men outside Lot's house are pissed. They say, "You're an outsider, who are you to judge us?" They threaten to do worse to him than to the angels. They swarm him and almost break the door down, but the angels pull him back inside.

The angels then strike the mob with blindness to stop them getting into the house. They say to Lot, "Look, you gotta take your family and get out of here. God sent us to see how bad things were and, uh, long story short, we're burning it all to the ground. You get it, right?"

Maybe you know the rest. Lot's son-in-laws don't believe him and won't leave the city. Lot's wife looks back and turns into a pillar of salt. Lot and his daughters take shelter in a small town called Zoar, and from there flee to the mountains. Everything else is destroyed.

It is a tragedy. The plains are leveled down to ash, until there's nothing left that can even grow. Was there really no one innocent in those cities? No children or animals? (You can't kill kids). Still, I think about that awful night under Lot's roof and I don't think I could blame anyone for giving up on all of it.

So what if that's the story? There were two angels in Sodom before it fell. What if it really was Aziraphale and Sandalphon, trapped through the night in a stranger's house, surrounded by men who want to rape them. Whatever their power as angels, that has to be terrifying.

If it was Sandalphon there with Aziraphale that night in Sodom, I have to wonder what he was like. There isn't any kinship or understanding from Aziraphale. Despite knowing the circumstances better than anyone, he still sees Sandalphon as a threat. Given that, I think Sandalphon must have taken a truly disturbing kind of joy in raining down vengeful fire and brimstone, beyond what you might expect from someone who was afraid or angry. Maybe he was never afraid; maybe instead he revelled in the violence building through the night as the reason he needed to tear everything down. Maybe he was afraid in the terrible way that exposes the depths someone will sink to to protect themselves (maybe offering his daughters was never Lot's idea). Or maybe Aziraphale just tried to reach out to him afterwards, to offer understanding and ask for some in return, and Sandalphon shot him down so coldly and viciously that Aziraphale knew immediately this wasn't something he was allowed to have feelings about. Whatever happened that night, it left Aziraphale feeling more of an outsider from Heaven than ever.

But if it happened that way, it happened this way too: Aziraphale survives a night like that, and when he looks out into the breaking dawn, he thinks, these cities don't deserve to burn. He sees the good in a place that's just shown him its absolute worst. I think that says everything about him as a character, actually. Of course he won't give up on Heaven. Of course he'll fight tooth and nail for his home on Earth. Whatever the worst is, there are still things worth saving. There are still, always, people worth protecting.

On that note, before I wrap this up, I want to go back to Lot's words to the men of Sodom, and draw a parallel that makes me feel some kind of way. Because when Lot declares the angels under his protection, what he says is essentially, "Do not do anything to these men, for they have come under the shadow of my roof for protection." And all I can think about, reading these lines, is Aziraphale standing in his bookshop as it's surrounded by hostile demons, and telling the angel under the shadow of his roof, "You came to me. I said I would protect you. And I will."

#good omens #good omens meta #fable talks good omens

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drconstellation · 24 days

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Aziraphale-Beelzebub Parallels

Aziraphale's Edinburgh Journey: Part 2

I've already written a series on how Crowley and Gabriel act as parallels and foils to each other in S2. Their other halves - their partners - also act as each other's parallels. I mentioned this briefly in the second post in that series, but here we need to expand on this.

We also need to talk about Maggie.

I think most people identify that there is good case for a many parallels between Aziraphale and Maggie as well. But when you consider Aziraphale-Beelzebub-Maggie together in a character triangle, Maggie suddenly starts to make a lot more sense. And I believe there is one more peculiar element thrown in that she is reflecting back to us as well about Aziraphale that has made her particularly hard to understand on top of all that.

But let's look at the Aziraphale-Beelzebub related parallels first.

They hold the highest ranking position

Beezlebub holds the highest ranking position in Hell under Satan, as the Grand Duke. They leave a vacancy at the end of the series, that we are yet to see filled.

For most of S2 the Supreme Archangel is missing - and it is only right at the end that we see Aziraphale step up and accept the offered role.

Two things to mention here:

One might argue that the Metatron is higher in ranking than the Supreme Archangel, but for purposes of this discussion he doesn't seem to have much to do with the day-to-day running of things like the Supreme Archangel would. Gabriel was also the one who appeared on the tarmac at Tadfield Airbase opposite Beelzebub when things weren't going to plan in S1.

Secondly, this is where I would like to start introducing the concept that we are being shown Aziraphale's future story in S2. Such as Aziraphale's future role as Supreme Archangel, however long he holds on to it.

I don't know how difficult it will be to demonstrate this as we go along from here, but I'm going to try and point out places where I think we are being shown glimpses of the future - foreshadowing - and a lot of them come through Maggie. Not all, though, there are exceptions, but we'll discuss them in due course. Such as in the next parallel.

They need words of affirmation

Crowley isn't the most loquacious character but he's not shy of boosting his angel's ego when it's needed. Whether it's encouraging Aziraphale to go big on stage in 1941 or supporting his detective efforts in Edinburgh Crowley is still going to put in a good word or two for Aziraphale's sake.

AZIRAPHALE: [over phone]: I think I've found some clues. And do you remember the statue of Gabriel in the graveyard in Edinburgh? I'm looking at it now. CROWLEY: Mmm, good job. AZIRAPHALE: Oh, do you really think so?

We know Beelzebub needs words of affirmation as well because they ask Demon Josh this:

BEELZEBUB: Do you ever think, wouldn't it just be nice if someone told you what a good job you're doing? DEMON JOSH: In hell? BEELZEBUB: Yeah.

Hang on, just a minute...Demon Josh...?

The demon who appears to be acting as the Personal Assistant/Secretary to the Grand Duke of Hell?

There is an old thread that points out that Greasy Johnson's name is basically another form of Jesus Christ. The TL:DR version is that Joshua aka Oily Josh is another form of Jesus.

So Beelzebub has Demon Jesus as her assistant.

Remember I was trying to tell you we are seeing future echoes of Aziraphale's story in S3 here? Jesus as the right hand of the Supreme Archangel, perhaps?

They give gifts

A S1 crossover, Beelzebub gives Gabriel the Tardis-like fly storage container, and Aziraphale gives Crowley the thermos of holy water in 1967 to stop the crazy caper he was planning to steal some. Both acts were done unprompted at the time.

They enjoy music

We've seen Aziraphale with his phonograph in action several times, and in S2E1 we see him in the midst of listening to the Shostakovitch records he got from Maggie when the arrival of Gabriel interrupts him.

We learn Beelzebub also has an ear for a good tune when they mention they like the song they hear in the American bar during the recap scenes of their meetings with Gabriel in S2E6.

They make an offer of "betterment" to Crowley

Beelzebub's offer to Crowley that he could be a Duke of Hell if he finds Gabriel for them, all while he is lounging across the two horned thrones in S2E1, is widely seen as a prominent piece of foreshadowing for S3.

Really, the only question should be is will that be just a plain Duke or will he somehow end up in the Grand Duke of Hell position opposite of Aziraphale?

Aziraphale also made an offer to Crowley - to restore him to angelic status.

At the time, neither offer was accepted with any enthusiasm - especially the latter.

They have a date at Gabriel's statue

I have pointed out elsewhere that this is a triple-parallel with a shot from Before the Beginning, but then I remembered that the parallel with Aziraphale looking jealously at angel!Crowley was written after this date pair with Gabriel's statue.

I intend to talk about the significance of the statue in Part 4: Judgement Day, as it makes a bridge between all three seasons and it needs some thorough and lengthy discussion around it.

They go to the pub

This is another triple-parallel between the two pairs. (I think @kayleefansposts first brought this up but I can't find the post it comes from now, even though it wasn't that long ago.)

First, they both meet in a cafe:

Then they meet in a pub:

And lastly, they meet - well, lets say with alcohol on the table and an option of food?

Their partners make a reference to the absurd creativity of humanity

For some time I wondered why when Crowley came back from the pub with Aziraphale, he plucked the Jane Austen off the shelf and shouted that inane line at humanity: "You people, I will never get the hang of you lot."

Eventually I realized it was a parallel moment to when just before Gabriel miracles the jukebox in the Resurrectionist to play Every Day the first time.

GABRIEL: What's that? BARTENDER: A classic 1960s jukebox. You don't see many of them these days. You just put your money in and tell it what you want to hear. GABRIEL: Oh… You people. Amazing. [hands over money] [miracles] Ha!

Both incidences are inspired by their partners - Aziraphale inspires Crowley to look for Austen's novels and Gabriel miracles the jukebox to play the music that Beelzebub likes.

Their partners accidentally leave them on their own

Crowley was only going to take the human shopkeepers to safety, then return - but he got sidetracked with Muriel all the way up to Heaven. Thinking he would be back soon, Aziraphale didn't plan very far ahead, and that eventually led to a problem - and a long, anxious wait for the demon's return.

On his way out of Heaven, Gabriel was on his way to Hell and Beelzebub - we presume. But as soon as he put himself in the fly, he forgot, and headed to the next most memorable location in his remaining working neurons, which happened to be on Earth. Beelzebub was left wondering where he was - and very alone down there in Hell while their minions were out searching for him. @noneorother shows what happens to the thrones while they wait.

So, about Maggie, then...

Understanding Aziraphale and Beelzebub as a parallel pair helps us to understand Maggie a little better, as Maggie is actually a mix of the two characters, reflecting both of them back at the same time. I think that is why she sometimes seems like an angel and a demon at the same time - because she actually is!

I believe this would also explain the "ugrency" spelling mistake, as well as putting an emphasis on the word urgency itself for us. What is becoming urgent?

For example, Maggie always wears a combination of colours from both characters. Here we can Maggie is wearing Beelzebub's signature colours of orange and light blue, but with a white background as the angelic component.

At the ball, she wears a blue blouse - blue is a colour associated with Heaven - but its a dark, demonic shade of blue.

She tries to give a gift to Nina, that doesn't quite work, but the thought and effort is there. She's very forgiving. And she says she says she'll still be there when Nina is ready to start seeing her again; she's reflecting the future Aziraphale to us.

She doesn't want to leave the scene of danger with Crowley when its offered (sounds familiar, doesn't it? Let's go to Alpha Centauri - No! I Can't!)

She's done with being scared, she's ready to stand up and be brave and fight.

She doesn't want to leave Aziraphale on his own (even though Aziraphale still has faith Crowley will turn up any minute now and have a plan - !!) She comes up with ideas on how to fight back. This is someone who steps forward and takes control. These all look like future echoes and set-ups for parallels in S3 to me.

There's another line that no one ever talks about that I've always thought was a foreshadowing line that Crowley says to Nina:

NINA: He's never hosted a meeting, ever. Why the change of heart? CROWLEY: He's unpredictable. He's discovered his civic obligations.

The parallel to this comes from Maggie, when Crowley goes to tell her its time for the meeting/Ball, she says she never misses a meeting. If that's not part of fulfilling your "civic obligations" I don't know what is.

If there was one aspect of Beelzebub I would perhaps just mention here briefly, but not discussing at length because I want to do it elsewhere again as well, is that they twice show restraint of their power and authority - they don't pull Crowley in for punishment as a traitor, even though they could (they pulled him down to Hell for a chat pretty easily) and they don't bother to rip out Demon Josh's tongue and send him to the dung heaps that day for being talkative and annoying, even though we get the impression it happens on a regular basis. In contrast, Aziraphale and Maggie both step up a bit and take some authority on themselves towards the end.

The lists above are not exhaustive of all the parallels between the three characters, but I hope it helps to get you started in thinking about them in a different way to how you might have been.

Next we try to tie the past<-present->future parallels together as we start getting our hands dirty.

The other posts in this series can be found here:

Part 1: Detective Aziraphale Part 3: Stocktaking in the Basement Part 4: Judgement Day Part 5: I Know Where I'm Going

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziraphale #beelzebub #maggie #demon josh #duke of hell crowley #oily josh #supreme archangel aziraphale #you people #i wont leave you on your own #discovering your civic duties #staying behind to die bravely #he's unpredictable

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the-final-sif · 1 month

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In a period where we are seeing increasing levels of bad faith takes, particularly from right wing assholes/terfs/nazis/etc, I think it's time that people on the left learn about eating the red card. The best example I've heard of shrugging off fake power structures.

Transcript below the cut.

Mike: Sure.

Dan: Mhm. So did you say any of those things by the way?

Mike: Nope. I didn't say any of that.

Jordan: Maybe next time.

Dan: Interesting.

Mike: Maybe next time. [crosstalk with Jordan], maybe cnn can invite me on and give me a shot-

Jordan [crosstalk with Mike]: Next time you're on CNN, give it a try.

Mike: I will say all those things, but that won't matter because I'll just have not said something else.

Jordan: No it won't.

Dan: Yeah. Go on and say, just do a satanic ritual on air and see- see how he plays that one.

Jordan: That's where I feel like we're like we're at-

Dan: He'll probably ignore it.

Jordan: I feel like we're all in eat the red card territory. You know, like if somebody says, "Oh, you, you're, you lied about this." Just be like, yeah, you're fucking right. I did. And I'll do it to your face and your mom's face! Fuck you!

Dan: Is that, is that a reference to my story?

Jordan: Yeah.

Dan: Okay. I didn't know if that-

Jordan: That resonated with me.

Dan: I didn't know if that was like vernacular-

Jordan: No, no, for me-

Dan: Wow.

Jordan: Yeah, that story is stuck with me forever.

Dan: That's pretty sweet.

Jordan: I love that story.

Dan: So Mike, I'll give you the short version of this.

Mike: Okay.

Jordan: When I was a kid, my parents only let us play soccer because the other games were like, I don't know, not European enough or something.

Mike: Oh, sure, okay.

Dan: We, we would play and on my brother's team, there was this guy who was kind of a bad-ass. And so in one game, he got a yellow card and he ate it.

Mike: Wow.

Dan: And so immediately the ref pulled out a red card, gave it to him, and he ate that too.

Mike:: Yeah.

Jordan: Like- what do you- See, I feel like that's just such a great story of like, what did you think was going to happen? You thought that you would exercise your real authority finally. And the truth is you have none because I'm going to eat this red fucking card and then walk away. You're nothing to me. Yeah.

Dan: So that, in sort of the metaphor, that is doing a satanic ritual on CNN.

Jordan: Yeah, totally. Absolutely. Yeah!

Jordan: Oh, they say he does satanic rituals. Fucking- let's see if I can do one! If you think satanic rituals are real and you believe that I do them,then should I do one on TV? It should work.

Mike: Yep.

Jordan: So eat the red card, man!

Dan: Don't do that.

Jordan: See if you can summon a demon.

Dan: Mike, don't do this.

Jordan: Summon a demon, Mike. Mike summon a demon.

Dan: There's an angel in a, uh, pride, uh, devil month on your shoulder.

Mike: Pride demon month- gotta go out in my pride demon month shirt?

Jordan: Angel month isn't until August. You've still got a couple of days.

#knowledge fight #us politics #misinformation #sif speaks #audio #This is a really common right wing tactic used for deflecting #and the only way to really win is to eat the red card and go about your day.

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666writingcafe · 10 days

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An Unexpected Trip to the Past

Satan

I have no idea what's going on. One second, we were inside the House of Lamentation, and the next we're in some brightly lit forest. It's possible that the door I opened led us outside, but something about this forest seems too...bright. Like, brighter than anything in the human world.

I almost dismiss the idea as me simply overthinking everything when Simeon frowns and remarks that he recognizes where we are.

And then Beel starts walking towards us.

Only, it's not the Beel I know. For starters, this version of him has a goddamn halo circling the top of his head.

"Oh, not this again," MC groans, which raises even more questions. What do they mean by again? I mean, there's no possible way they've been here before, right? They weren't even alive when Beel and the others were angels.

"What are you doing here?" Beel the angel asks, looking rather stern. I suppose his reaction makes sense. We are intruders, after all.

"It's okay, Beelzebub," Simeon replies softly with a smile. "Don't worry. It's me." That seems to relieve Beel a little.

"Simeon, who are these two? Are they with you?" Simeon nods his head.

"They're acquaintances of mine, you see. They're angels, actually. Both of them." What in the world is he thinking?! MC might be able to get away with it, but there is no way in hell I'd make a convincing angel. I open my mouth to protest, but MC squeezes my hand and quietly instructs me to play along.

"We're talking about this later," I whisper. Simeon introduces us to angel Beel, and I thank my lucky stars that he remembered my human world name. I don't even want to imagine the alias he would have come up with if he didn't. It'd probably be something stupid, like Sully.

"So, Beelzebub, what's Lucifer up to?" Simeon asks.

"He's at the Celestial Palace in a meeting with Michael and all the other higher-ups." Beel pauses, narrowing his eyes at Simeon. "Shouldn't you be there, too? I thought all of the seraphim had to attend."

Simeon struggles to come up with a good answer to that question, making me anxious. He's never done well under pressure.

"He was busy rescuing us," MC pipes up.

"Rescuing you?" Beel repeats.

"Daniel and I fell into a pit someone dug as a trap, and we needed someone to help us get out. We sent out a message, and Simeon was the first to respond." Apparently, MC's story is plausible enough, for Beel simply nods his head and tells them that he's glad that we got out safely.

It intrigues me how they're able to come up with lies on the spot like that. Even Diavolo admitted that if he didn't have the ability to tell when people were lying to him, he would have totally believed MC's story of Lucifer trying to recreate Irish coffee with Devildom ingredients back when the two of us swapped bodies and I was saying a bunch of stupid shit in an attempt to embarrass my brother.

I've wondered from time to time what MC would be like as a demon. Not because I want them to lose their humanity or anything; I'm merely intrigued by the possibility. I feel like one of their powers would lie in speechcraft, specifically the ability to make someone believe whatever it was they're saying, even if it had no basis in any reality whatsoever. Perhaps their tongue would literally turn silver as they spoke. How many people would fall victim to it? I imagine quite a few, since MC appears trustworthy. Unlike, say, Mammon or Asmo, who people can tell are trying to sell them something from a mile away.

We're incredibly lucky that we have MC on our side, because if we had to fight them...

"Yo, Beel!" Great. Mammon's joined us. "What're you doing hangin' out here? And who are they?"

"Looks like two real cuties!" And Asmo, too. "So, tell me: what are your names, hm?" His nearly baby-like voice is making my skin crawl. It always does. I may not get along with him sometimes, but at least the Asmo that I know can modulate his voice to sound like a reasonable adult. This version of him, on the other hand, appears to only have one setting.

"Are you friends of Simeon's?" Man, where is everyone coming from? I feel like Levi literally popped out of thin air.

Simeon introduces us to the other angel brothers, and Asmo takes the opportunity to try to flirt with me. In that godawful baby voice. I feel like my glare towards him is justified.

"Beelzebub, you mentioned you were looking for Belphegor, right?" Simeon asks. I must have missed that part of the conversation. "I have an idea where he might be. MC and I will go find him for you. In the meantime, look after Daniel for me, would you?"

That sneaky little angel. Using the opportunity to be alone with MC is one thing, and for the most part I let that sort of thing slide. But Simeon has always lamented the fact that I never got to experience life in the Celestial realm as my own individual, since I was stuck in Lucifer's head until the fall. I keep telling him that I don't really have a desire to know that kind of information, but he doesn't listen. Or care, it seems.

I will get him back for this.

#obey me shall we date #obey me satan #obey me mc #obey me simeon #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me levi

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mollymauk-teafleak · 18 days

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oh the times that we believed

More of the fantastic @minky-for-short's human Huskerdust painter and muse au! A bit of plot motived hurt/comfort!

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3 if you enjoyed this!

cw: abuse, sex work, it's Angel Dust working for Valentino and all that implies in canon

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Angel wondered when he’d start believing the things Husker told him.

Some things he didn’t believe and wasn’t supposed to. Husk’s stories from his ragged upbringing on the Strip were clearly bright, shiny pearls formed around small grains of some truth, given to be admired and enjoyed, even if it was artificial. Husk would launch into tales of impossible, artful cons, victories snatched at the last moment thanks to a card up the sleeve, run-ins with the mob where Husk’s life hinged on a dice roll and a mad dash on stage to blend into a big band.

When he told Angel these stories with obvious delight when the younger man laughed until he cried, gasped at just the right moments, hung on his every word, it was like sitting with a younger version of Husk. He’d see the great showman his lover could have been if he’d had quieter demons and more certain luck, the dreams he’d once had that still clung to him, a jacket he’d outgrown a long time ago. Angel couldn’t quite believe any of those stories but that wasn’t the point of a magic show, was it?

It wasn’t those stories that Angel struggled to believe. It wasn’t anything big, really. All the languages Husker could speak, the achingly beautiful art he made, the places he’d been that Angel only knew as names in a book. All that he could swallow easily, he didn’t doubt that he’d found something special in Husk, a man made of dizzying highs and crashing lows and interesting stories, like an antique store in paint-stained shirtsleeves.

The problem wasn’t the big things. It was the little things Husk said that Angel didn’t know how to believe, small handfuls of words he whispered gently or scattered like handfuls of seeds, almost unaware of the blooms they’d grow into inside Angel’s mind.

I remembered those were your favorite flowers. I just worried you might be cold. I wanted to let you sleep, I know how tired you are. We can take a break. I’ve got you. I’m here. I won’t leave.

I love you.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to?”

Angel sighed internally and added it to the list, wishing Husk’s love was as easy to believe in as his lies.

“What do you mean?” he murmured, the question he really wanted to ask but shrunk down small.

“Well…” Husk’s gaze was knowing, though he didn’t mean that as an attack the way most people in Angel’s life did, he didn’t want to know so he could hurt, “You’ve been sitting in that robe for half an hour now, Legs?”

It was news to Angel, though he wasn’t surprised. Time had always been something slippery to him, running through his fingers like water when other people could grasp it and be sure of it. He’d been prone to black outs when he was a child, snatches of time he wouldn’t be able to recall afterwards, only bruises in the shape of his father’s fists and his sister’s fruitless tears to show him what had happened while he was gone. He’d started escaping into them as a young man, using chemicals to open the doors to oblivion, again relying on souvenirs to piece together the story afterwards when it was safe. When it could almost be something that happened to someone else.

And now, brain still slick and foggy from the night before, he wasn’t surprised that he slipped away, not wanting to think about what was going to happen when he took off the robe, when Husk saw what was underneath.

What did surprise him was Husk’s offer.

“But I’m supposed to sit for you today,” Angel’s fingers toyed with the cheap fake fur that edges his robe, worn flat and matted from how long he’d clung to it as his comfort blanket, “Val ain’t paying you to paint me with my clothes on.”

“And if I gave a rat’s ass what Valentino thought, you wouldn’t spend more time in my bed than you do in front of my easel,” Husk pointed out with a wry smile, coming to sit beside him on the sagging old couch in the corner of the studio.

“I’m coming,” Angel insisted, though his voice was wearing so thin the lie showed through, “I’m just tired. Had a late night, that’s all.”

Angel didn’t know who he was kidding, trying to fool a man who’d grown up on the Strip speaking fluent bullshit, who could see the way his hands were trembling, the way he only pulled his robe tighter around him. But Husk didn’t seem angry or even irritated by the feeble attempt, just studying Angel with a careful, warm gaze.

“There doesn’t need to be a reason,” his voice was gentle too, light, willing to play along and pretend this was just going to be a regular day, “If you don’t feel like it, you don’t feel like it.”

“You know what my job is, right?” Angel gave a bitter laugh, staring at his hands, trying to force them to relax and not look so desperate, “You know what my life is?”

“Baby,” that broke Husk’s voice a little, the sadness welling up in the cracks, “You ain’t at the club right now. You’re with me, you’re safe here.”

Another thing Angel didn’t know how to believe, another thing to toss into the chasm between what he wanted and what he could do.

“When are you gonna get sick of trying to convince me?” the words slipped out of Angel, past his better judgment, taking advantage of his bone deep exhaustion and clouded mind, “When are you gonna get tired of saying this shit to me and it not making a difference?”

There was a moment of quiet or at least as quiet as this part of the city got, down to just the riot of horns and curses from the street outside. Angel’s stomach went into a sickening freefall, leaving him burning with self hatred. He never could have anything good in his life without bending it to see when it would break, so he could cut his hands on the jagged edges and tell himself the pain had been inevitable, that he’d been right to expect the worst, that he didn’t have to change because the outcome would always be the same.

“Can I touch you, baby? That okay?”

Angel jumped like a gun had gone off by his ear, the nod shaken out of him before he could think whether it was smart to be honest right now.

Words were hollow at best and weapons at worst but something about the solid presence of Husk’s hand on his shoulder was more certain, something he could trust in. It hurt, of course it did, there was nowhere under his robe where it wouldn’t, but Angel kept it off his face. He knew it would hurt far worse if Husk took it away.

“Short answer, Angel? Never,” each word came slowly, like he was checking it over to make sure it was right before putting it in place on the end of his tongue, “Do I wish things were different, yeah, of course I do. I wish you’d never been hurt the way you have, I wish the idea of me loving you and caring about you wasn’t new. But, fuck, I don’t blame you for that, how could I? It ain’t your fault.”

“It isn’t my fault that Valentino has a contract with my name on it?” Angel took a sharp, ragged breath, whipping around to face him, “I was a junkie long before I met him, Husk. My life was well and truly fucked before he decided to make a profit off it. I signed my body over to him and I meant it, how is that not my fault?”

“Because you trusted him back then,” Husk’s voice grew firm, roots digging deep and refusing to bend under Angel’s attempt to wrench it up, “And I know I’m asking you to do the same for me, telling you I won’t hurt you when that’s all anyone’s ever done. Believe me, the asking don’t come easy either. Before you walked into my studio, I was ready to just drink my way to hell and be done with it. Believing I deserve you, that I got any right to tell you I love you…it’s hard.”

For a wild moment, Angel wished he had two sets of arms, one for the part of himself that burned to shove Husk away, one for the part that ached to pull him close, “So why do it? Why try when it’s so hard it feels…impossible?”

“Because you’re worth it.”

Husk said it so plainly, without hesitation, like he was telling Angel the sky was blue, that water was wet. Like he just knew.

Angel had never had any use for faith, his nonna and his sister had tried to convince him but when he looked at the stained glass, his eyes were always drawn to the snake coiled around the tree, the twisted shapes with horns and claws more than the pure, perfect saints with their palms upturned to the light. Even when he’d been too young to know himself, he had known that when the priest spoke about temptation and deviance and sin, he was talking about Angel. Those were the first words he learned to describe himself and that kind of shame never fully went away.

But when Angel looked at Husk, he saw something in his eyes that could only be faith. Belief for its own sake, belief because it filled a space inside him, because it felt good when so many other things felt bad.

“So I’ll never get tired of telling you I love you, baby,” Husk murmured, “I’ll never get tired of telling you you’re safe here. Whether you believe me or not, it’s true and it’ll always be true.”

“Husk…” tears blurred his vision but he still felt that gaze, anchoring him in place.

He didn’t have the words to finish that sentence, he didn’t know what to call the emotions thrumming in his chest, scared that if he looked too closely they’d crack and fall away. Instead he shrugged out of the robe, letting it turn into a faux silk puddle around his hips, letting Husk see what he’d been hiding from him, why he hadn’t been able to imagine showing him before.

Husk’s voice was strangled, like something was gripping his throat, something not outside but inside, “Angel. Fuck, what did he do to you…”

The bruises had looked bad that morning when he’d dragged himself upright, showering and dressing quickly so he didn’t have to see them, only feel them, but Angel knew they’d look worse now. Husk’s expression, the tremor in his voice, told him enough.

“Apparently some big shot was in the club last night,” Angel’s voice was flat, distant, echoing oddly in his ears like it was someone else speaking, “Someone Valentino wanted to impress. I was headlining like usual but I fell, went down hard. No way to recover.”

He lifted one shoulder, a more misshapen, more natural bruise throbbing like it knew he was talking about it.

“Val was furious,” he closed his eyes against the memory of flashing eyes and bared teeth, smoke pouring out with every curse and cutting word like there was a fire inside his mouth, “I was in for a beating anyway but then…then I made it worse. I told him I’d slipped because my hands were shaking. I wasn’t gonna tell him why, I’d said too damn much already but…but he made me tell him.”

“Tell him what?” Husk prompted gently, not demanding, just giving him permission to say it. Just promising him he’d be heard.

“That it was the shakes. That it was because I ain’t had a hit in…a week?”

It sounded such a small thing to say it out loud, a pathetic, scrambling first step up a mountain that stretched into the clouds. Seven days, seven hard, painful, blinding days, felt like nothing to boast about, a child holding up a shiny candy wrapper and calling it treasure. Sitting here, all Angel could think was how seven days wasn’t worth a beating, not when he was just going to fall off the wagon at any moment.

But Husk’s voice was awed, a tone that would make Angel think of the colorful prayer candles and brightly painted wooden rosary beads in his nonna’s little closet, the place where she carefully tucked her faith and her home away, keeping it safe from their family’s darkness.

“That’s incredible, baby,” he murmured, finding Angel’s hand and holding tight, “I mean, I’m sorry that asshole flew off the handle but, fuck, I’m proud of you.”

Angel gave a dry, bitter laugh but he held on just as tight, “Don’t get used to it, can’t promise it’s gonna last.”

“Don’t matter,” Husk’s voice was as firm as his grip, keeping Angel anchored, “I’m proud of you either way. For doing it and for telling me, for letting me see. I know what it costs you.”

The smile came easily, easier than it had any right to when he was sitting here wearing nothing but the streaks of tears and blooming bruises, “No more than you’re worth, Husk…sorry, I ain’t gonna make a pretty picture today.”

Husk paused a moment before a light flickered in his eyes, a light that took years off him, that turned him into the main character from those impossible bullshit stories.

“Well…I’m sure as fuck not lifting a finger for Valentino today, except to give him a taste of his own medicine,” his eyes slid over to his cluttered workbench, deeply stained with turpentine and oil paints, old whiskey jugs and jam jars filled with water in half a hundred swirling colours, “But I still feel like painting. Work with me here, Legs…”

Angel watched in bemusement as Husk began loading the coffee table with half crushed tubes of paint, watercolor palettes that had wept half of their pigments away, his most delicate brushes. He navigated the chaos of his studio almost without thinking, always knowing what he needed and where to find it, even if he never put it down in the same place twice.

“The hell are you doing, handsome?” Angel tilted his head, putting his arm out when Husk gestured, without even thinking because he just didn’t need to.

“Trying something new,” Husk sat beside him, dipping a feather light brush into water, then pressing it to a square of dusty pink paint until the horsehair drank the color, until it looked like a flower bud, “Call it inspiration.”

“Like I’m your muse?” Angel flashed him a grin, knowing Husk thought his gold tooth was hot.

“Like you’re the love of my life,” Husk gently touched the tip of the brush to his skin, “Let me know if it hurts…”

It didn’t, the brush was as delicate and gentle as Husk’s own fingers, like it really was an extension of him. A few strokes and that bud bloomed into an orchid on Angel’s skin, with a burn scar in the center. Suddenly it wasn’t where Valentino had pressed the smoldering end of his cigarette to wrench the confession out of him, it was something beautiful.

“It won’t last forever,” Husk murmured, eyes holding Angel’s, “But neither will the hurt. Either way you’re beautiful and either way, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Angel’s voice trembled along with his hands, making the orchid dance as if in some breeze, “Can you do more of them?”

Husk raised his knuckles to his lips, “Fields of flowers. A galaxy’s worth of stars. Moons and suns and whatever the hell else you want, baby. I can’t give you much but I can paint you the universe.”

“I’ll take whatever you’ve got,” Angel laid his head against Husk’s shoulder.

He said it wasn't much but to Angel, it felt like everything.

Every scar, every bite, every bruise was given something beautiful. Some got flowers until Angel was wearing a necklace of them, some became clouds in a sky that began as daylight at his fingertips and ended at night by his shoulder, with every color in between. Dragons curled around some, guarding them fiercely, planets orbited around others and made them the core of distant solar systems.

Husk painted almost without thinking, like he was letting whatever he felt for Angel spill out through his brush, giving him a hundred other stories than the ones the bruises told. He made him a fae prince with garters of wisteria on his thighs and serpents curled around his wrists, a young god with the world in his palm, a literal angel with a folded pair of gorgeous wings on his back. He was right, they wouldn’t last, but Angel knew he’d always remember. Nothing was going to take this from him.

And while he painted, almost as great a gift as the escapes he was offering, Husk listened. He seemed to know which scars to ask about and which to let lie, which ones to frame and which ones to cover. Angel told him about the jagged slash on his back, the bullet that had whizzed overhead while he crouched behind a bar in France, after the drag show he’d been performing in went to shit when an enemy soldier felt the knife strapped to his thigh. He told Husk about the pinhole scar on his ear from his very first, very stupid attempt to pierce them, the one that had ended with his sister bending him over the sink and holding her favorite scarf to his ear until the bleeding stopped. He showed him the bump in his nose, where he’d fallen on his face, smack bang into the sidewalk, right off his very first pair of high heels.

Husk might have been a showman once upon a time but he’d clearly spent a lot of time in audiences too. His laugh was a smoky wheeze, like an accordion with a hole in the bellows, and he used it at just the right moments. He asked the right questions, he groaned and gasped and chortled and made Angel feel as though he was standing on a stage, bringing the house down. And all while he wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, with Husk crawling all over him to paint his chest, his back, down to his ass and between his thighs. It tasted like relief, to be naked but not offered up, to be exposed but not sexualised, touched but not grabbed. He loved when Husk fucked him, of course he did, but it was nice to know it didn’t have to be an inevitability, something to make him feel more powerful rather than powerless.

Angel didn’t think there was an end to his scars but, by the time the sky outside was bleeding orange, he was standing in front of Husk’s dusty mirror, a completed work of art. Every mark on his skin, from his childhood to last night, was decorated and adorned and loved. He would cry but he didn’t want his tears to ruin the sets of bright, golden eyes Husk had painted on his cheeks.

Instead he choked out, “Thank you…fuck, Husk, thank you so much…”

Husk wiped smudges in half a hundred colors off his hands, eyes warm and admiring, “Should be me thanking you, baby. You let me help.”

“Now that I don’t believe,” Angel reached out and snagged his collar, pulling him into the frame of the mirror so he could look at himself and Husk at the same time.

“Listen…there was something else I wanted to give you, not that you need to take it,” Husk’s voice softened, eyes ducking and an honest to God blush darkening his cheeks, “You tell me if I’m being an old fool here…”

Angel paused, watching his lover’s expression in the mirror, struck with the sudden sense that the ground was about to shift beneath his feet.

“Ever since you introduced me to your friend, Charlie?” Husk cleared his throat, suddenly sounding like he was reading from a prepared speech, “She commissioned me for a couple paintings of her girl, the mean eyed one.”

“Vaggie?” Angel chuckled, “Yeah, she said she was going to. She’s a generous girl, huh? A toff but she’s nice about it.”

“Real fucking generous. I ain’t had pricetags like that since before I blew it all,” Husk admitted with a small, almost disbelieving laugh, “But…it got me thinking. Between what I’m getting from that asshole Valentino and your friend…well, your contract with the club has to have a price attached, right?”

Angel’s heart sank with the bitter, shameful taste of a dream he’d been a fool to believe in, “Yeah. It was a fortune when I first signed it and it’s only gotten bigger every year. Val finds any excuse to add to it, room and board, make up, costumes, the fucking drugs. When I was younger, I thought maybe one day…but it’s impossible.”

“Not for me.”

The reflection wasn’t enough anymore, Angel turned and looked at Husk, jaw slack, eyes wide, “What?”

“I could give you the money to buy your contract out from under that creep,” Husk’s voice steeled, a fierce determination bolstering it, “Then you wouldn’t have to live with him, you wouldn’t have to work at his whorehouse calling itself a nightclub. You’d be able to get clean, you could find a new job or, hell, you could still strip but it would be on your terms. And he wouldn’t be able to say shit. And…you could leave the city. Get away from all this.”

Husk’s voice stumbled at the end, the words clearly paining him but he said them anyway, not flinching from Angel’s gaze.

It was a fantasy, an impossibility, like the things he’d painted on Angel’s skin. And in spite of himself and the life he’d lived, in spite of every second that had come before this one, all Angel could do was ask for more.

“Or?” he prompted, his voice a whisper like it was scared to be heard.

Dawn broke in Husk’s smile, “Or…I buy the apartment above my tiny, shitty studio. It’s also tiny and shitty but it’s got enough room for two people. You move in, I succeed in pulling my career out of the gutter and give you the chance to build a life you actually like. I make you coffee and flapjacks every morning, you make me your nonna’s recipes, we go out dancing, I drag you to art museums, you make me go to the ball game. And…and I guess we live happily ever after?”

“I guess,” Angel smiled, feeling his heart crack open, all the hope he’d been so scared of rushing in, “I want that, Husk. God, that’s all I want.”

“Then let’s go get it, baby,” Husk drew him close, his embrace smudging the paint but it didn’t matter, this dream meant more.

Maybe it was just a daydream. Maybe it was one of those stories too fantastical to really believe, the work of a Vegas showman, a beautiful con, the throw of a dice. Maybe it was another escape into oblivion, an idea that would melt away like a high. Maybe it would fade into a scar or blur like paint under a thumb.

But Angel didn’t care. If it did fall apart, the way everything had before, he’d still say this feeling had been worth it.

Angel realized now, he didn’t have to wait until he started believing the things Husk told him. He had to choose to believe in them.

That's what made it faith.

#hazbin hotel #huskerdust #huskerdust painter au #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #husker #angel dust #please reblog and comment

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toobluebirdie · 4 months

Text

The Apparition Creature Runes

This post is to organize the thought process the Eden’s Rest discord server went through trying to figure out what the runes in the Apparition drawing really mean.

I hope my explanation is clear enough to follow!

We went from casually wondering what the runes meant to realizing they spelled nothing, to trying to flip them upside down and realizing they still spelled nothing, to finding a tik tok that led down a new rabbit hole entirely.

The person in this tik tok talks about an article they found about medieval language. SMCEN was written as smœn (which is also written as smoen).

Here’s the link to the article they were talking about in the tik tok: https://www.jstor.org/stable/43628078 You can only access the article if you have a subscription to jstor, whether through your school or otherwise, but the sample page here has the passage the tik tok is talking about. Trying to figure out the literary jargon hurt my head. It talks about “mamorian” and “mamra” (which come from the same root word) meaning “to be deep in thought about something” or “sleep.” Trying to clear up what the article was saying about “smoen” after that and connect it all together was hard but here’s what i got:

It seems to say that smœn is linked to the word smean, which is a variation of the Old English word smeagan.

From the Wikipedia entry for smeagan ( https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/smeagan#Old_English ):

Verb

smēaġan

consider, think about

meditate

examine, scrutinize, question

These definitions line up with the definition assigned to mamorian. I hope you can follow how my brain made this leap, but this made me feel confident enough to say the jstor article is saying both mamra and smoen mean sleep or at least something similar to it.

So we have our translation of SMCEN:

SLEEP

The rest is far less confusing. I think.

Now that I knew I should use Smoen as a search term and that it was a medieval word, google helped me a lot more.

I found this book about the Magical Treatise of Solomon:

issuu

You can search the book for the word “smoen” and that’s how I found a lot more I could use to find answers.

I found some alternate versions of smoen that helped with searching: Skonin and Skoen

I found that Smoen was a demon linked to the angel Patiel (or Pathiel)

This book also has a whole page of runes, some of which are similar to the Sundowning runes. It’s page 323 of the book if you want to see.

This book has a lot to it, but for the purposes of this rune translation attempt, I moved on.

The book mentioned lots of Greek words and names so I applied that to my search for the meanings of the other runes.

In Greek and Latin the letter j did not exist. “I” was used in place of “J.” So I switched the j in the remaining runes to an i. (AJR -> AIR)

I searched for info on ESIO maybe being a medieval latin word and I found this source:

(which is from the Dictionary of Medieval Latin from Celtic Sources)

It said this:

estio --> esio

esto (adv.)

so i searched for Esto and found this: https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/esto

And that said…

Etymology 1

Form of the verb edō (“I eat”).

Pronunciation

(Classical) IPA: /ˈeːs.toː/, [ˈeːs̠t̪oː]

(modern Italianate Ecclesiastical) IPA: /ˈes.to/, [ˈɛst̪o]

Verb

ēstō

second/third-person singular future active imperative of edō

So I think ESIO could mean EAT.

At this point my brain was leaking out of my ears so I gave up thinking. I decided AIR just meant AIR.

Air = Breathe???

And that’s the story of how the discord chat decided it said...

EAT BREATHE SLEEP

The end?

Eden's Rest friends involved in the making of this monster: @ccsven and @r-e-dax-t-e-d

Here’s @ccsven's drawing where we started trying to figure out wtf that said. And oh man, did we. Did we? I still don’t know.

#sleep token #sleep token runes #the apparition #sleep token lore #medieval latin? for some reason?#following these brain worms was an out of body experience #finally...i can rest #eep token

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fivie · 8 months

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There's a thought about umw that I've had for a long long time and since I didnt exactly have anywhere else to out it I thought I'd share it here.

It's about Montparnasse, or rather, the apparent lack of him and where oh where is he.

Now, obviously, there are many les mis characters who aren't in the story, it makes perfect sense, eg. javert who is implied once or twice but isn't actually mentioned.

But anyway, while thinking about umw my thoughts often turn to R's life before the story. I mean, it has been many centuries and while I can imagine it Nit Being Much, there had to be Events to fill the time, right? Some people he met, some historical events he's witnessed, etc etc.

I've always imagined imagined Grantaire to have met Floréal some time in the 1600s or 1700s and them being very loose sort of friends. Acquaintances is a better word maybe.

But the one concept that cannot for the love of everything leave my mind is Montparnasse sort of being there, throughout the ages. At first I thought, a fallen angel maybe? But that doesn't seem to fit him at all, and the idea that I arrived at was that Montparnasse was a Reaper. I'm going to be serious, I haven't been keeping up with spn for several seasons now and my memory of the lore is very fragmented so I'm not sure how it holds up canon-wise, but it seemed neat to me. He accompanied R during the worst of times, when he witnessed the most deaths, wars, revolutions, massacres, the sort of atrocities that made Grantaire so cynical and distrustful and That Way in general. Maybe they became sort of friends. Maybe Montparnasse was the Reaper intended to bring the kids from Smoleńsk across. Who knows. Maybe the whole theory is bullshit and he's either some rando doing Crime around Lyon or he doesn't exist in the universe at all, but it's still fun to think about.

Anyway that's all I hope it's at least a bit entertaining 🙌🙌 + tysm for all the hard work on the fic it's taken up at least 85% of my brain at all times for thr last 2.5 (maybe more?) years<33

Ooh that's a cool idea! It would have been fun to have a Reaper character in UMW, especially since humans can't see them (unless they're dying or, y'know, dead) so it would be someone only Grantaire could interact with. Or maybe Jehan can perceive Reapers too, which would add a tasty Romantic quality to his abilities – he sees dead people and also the embodiments of death itself 💕 also I imagine a Reaper, a keeper of the Natural Order, would have a thing or two to say about resurrected-ghost-Feuilly 😂

I actually do have my own UMW version of Montparnasse, since he was originally meant to feature but got cut due to the story already spiralling madly out of my control without me adding even more characters and plot threads. I think I wrote about him in a post once but it was like a bajillion years ago so for funs let me tell you about him here:

He IS some rando doing crime around Lyon!! (Or possibly Paris, I never 100% decided.) He's sort of like a dark mirror of Jehan; he's human and also a psychic, but much less naturally powerful, and has started dabbling in witchcraft and other unsavoury things to enhance his abilities. He's wildly jealous of Jehan's powers and also considers Jehan to be an idiotic waste of those powers because he won't use them for his own gain. He comes from a much bleaker background than Jehan and had to fend for himself from a young age, and so has become very adept at using his abilities to manipulate people and is now a very successful and wealthy con artist. He's not 'evil', which is a pretty strong term in a world with demons etc, but circumstances have molded him into a person who does not trust others and is very out for himself, and his psychic abilities make him somewhat arrogant and he considers ordinary people to be inferior and fair game for him to mess with.

As you can see my personal take on Montparnasse is a bit darker than the pure neutrality of a Reaper-type character 😂 In this AU I envisioned him as kind of the same type of character as Spike from Buffy, in that he starts out as a legitimate threat and thorn in the protagonists' sides but reluctantly develops into an ally as time goes on.

However I know that fandom interpretations of Montparnasse vary wildly and all are valid, and since he's almost definitely never going to actually show up in UMW, please have fun imagining whatever version of him you enjoy most!! I just also have a lot of thoughts with nowhere to go and will take any opportunity to share 😂

#umw #grantaire SHOULD have a reaper friend though #that was an oversight on my part

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 9 months

Text

One Monstrous Miracle (Part Seven)

Hi. I know it's been quite a long time since I last updated this story, I'm sorry guys! If there's anyone still interested, here's a new chapter, just for you! This is partially motivated by Season 2 dropping, and partially by intense nostalgia from rereading what I had already written. I have an outline for the last chapters, but I'm still trying to decide how to split them up. I can't promise how soon I'll be posting more after this, but I can guarantee it will be sooner than last time! Thank you all for your continued support, and I hope you love this chapter as much as I do <3 (Pst! Here’s the AO3 version!)

First-Previous-Next

Pairing: Aziraphale/Human!Reader

Summary: A group of kids stop Armageddon (offscreen). A deadbeat dad shows his face. Aziraphale almost has a panic attack.

Warnings: Unsure, please let me know if any pop out at you! I wrote the first part of this chapter 3 years ago, and finished it tonight, so please forgive me if you spot any yucky parts.

Word Count: 4,714

Tadfield Airbase, some weeks later…

Crowley was well aware that things were far from being over. He knew exactly how much Hell had been itching for a do-over, that they were still licking their wounds from the Great War. Adam and his friends had stopped Armageddon, something that would not go unpunished by both sides. If Heaven and Hell wanted a war, they would get one. It was only a matter of time.

They were all standing around in the lull between banishing the Four Horsemen and the next Big Thing, doing the dreaded, but inevitable small talk thing with each other. Crowley ignored most of it, staying on high alert. He was soon rewarded for his diligence in the form of an enormous bolt of purple lightning striking the ground not ten feet away from where the group was standing. Simultaneously, the ground began to break apart and crumble in a small patch beside the spot where the lightning had touched down, seemingly being forced up by something moving from below the pavement. They all gasped, stepping away from the new developments. Everyone except for Adam and Anathema. Newt was trying to pull his new girlfriend back, but she stayed, feet planted firmly where they were. Adam just looked.

Adam watched as a tall, dark shape began to form in the lightning, and something broke through the ground next to it and continued to rise. The rising form turned out to be Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies. Adam did not know how he knew this, but he did. The other form was not just one person, but two. An Angel, Gabriel, Adam thought, and a woman. Adam frowned. Gabriel seemed to be holding the woman up by her hair! That didn’t look very nice. The Demon and the Angel glared at each other before marching forwards, Gabriel dragging the groaning woman behind him.

Aziraphale couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him when he saw the state you were in. Once Gabriel had gotten close enough, he threw your limp body to the ground, shaking out his hands as though he had been touching something quite foul. Aziraphale was already halfway to you, shrugging off his coat to cover your ripped and dirty clothes. He gathered you into his arms, mindlessly healing all your scrapes and cuts, taking your bloody wrists in his to press cooling miracles into the wounds there. The look he gave Gabriel could have sent him straight to Damnation, if Aziraphale had been concerned with anything other than your wellbeing. You whimpered and fell fully into Aziraphale’s embrace.

“What did you do to her?” Aziraphale demanded of the Archangel, feeling his blood boil in rage. “Her clothes are soaking wet!”

Gabriel grinned shrugging as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, and he could feel Crowley bristling at his side.

“Oh, I haven’t done anything to your precious little pet. You know me, Azi, I don’t like getting my hands bloody. You know, unless there’s a war on. A divine, righteous war that you…people had no right getting in the way of!”

If Aziraphale hadn’t been holding you, he would’ve lunged at him. As it was, he could feel your shivering getting worse, so he wrapped his coat tighter around you and brought you closer to his chest, burying his face into your messy hair. He was thankful you were alive, anyway. Seeing how the angels had treated you doubled the guilt he felt for not dropping everything to scour creation looking for you. Although he knew it was the right choice, later, he would look at every single cut, scrape, and abrasion on your body, thinking that if he had gotten to you, if he hadn’t gone to Tadfield instead, that you would be whole. You would be healthy and happy, far away from all of this mess. As it was, you were right smack in the middle of Armageddon, completely and utterly clueless about what was happening.

Meanwhile, you had gradually been coming back to consciousness, the jolt from being thrown onto the concrete doing most of the heavy work for you. The first thing you noticed was the smell—like wool and tea and old books. A familiar smell that you couldn’t quite place, so you opened your eyes to find your vision blocked by a wall of light tan. Your pain-addled brain was slow to recognize what had happened, but once it did, you couldn’t help yourself from bursting into tears.

“Aziraphale! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…they just took me! I sw-swear I didn’t tell them anything, honest—”

“Hush, now! Don’t be silly!” Aziraphale was aghast. Here you were, after Heaven only knows what you had gone through, and you were apologizing! To him! He began rubbing soothing circles onto your back, cooing softly, and quieting your crying. As if he needed more proof that he did not deserve someone like you.

“Oi! Do you think you could get her to stop bawling?” Aziraphale lifted his head to see Lord Beelzebub snarling at the pair of you. Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from staring as a fly landed right on her eyeball and crawled back into the socket. Shuddering, Aziraphale forced his gaze away from the disgusting sight.

“Surely you can understand, Your Highness, with her having just been tortured and all.” Crowley answered, speaking over whatever was about to come out of Aziraphale’s mouth. He knew his friend, and he recognized the same ancient anger that he had felt from Aziraphale the night they had gone to your empty flat. If Aziraphale had had the wherewithal to keep him from burning half of Heaven to find their girl, then Crowley could, at least try and do the same. For now. Beelzebub sneered at him but turned back to the conversation.

“Now. Adam. Listen to me.” The Prince of Hell was bending over in front of the Son of Satan, looking him straight in his eyes. Adam had to stop himself from scrunching his nose at the rank smell that was rolling off her in waves. He stared at her, waiting for her to speak. “When this is over, you’re going to get to rule the world! Don’t you want to rule the world, boy?”

This was a question that every child has thought of at least once. The ultimate, most interesting question one could ask themselves. Adam, being who he was, hadn’t thought about it at all until the past few months, as things in the world had gotten stranger and stranger. After reading the Antiquarian magazines, after finally learning about all the stuff that was really happening, everything that was wrong with the world, Adam knew that he wanted to fix it. Get rid of the nuclear plants! Welcome the aliens to Earth! Adam would fix everything. Hearing Lord Beelzebub say that he really could rule the world and all he would have to do would be to listen to the voices in his mind that he had been resisting all this time was tempting, to say the absolute least.

But then Adam looked around him at the strange group of people that had gathered together to stop that very thing from happening. The two Angels and the two Demons, the witch and the witchfinders, the fortune teller…and his friends. He knew for a fact that he had scared them witless with how he had behaved towards them. Despite how horribly he had treated them, they were here with him—they had his back. He grinned at them, and they grinned back. He turned to the Prince.

“It’s hard enough to have to think of things for Pepper and Wensley and Brian to do all the time so we don’t get bored. I’ve got all the world I want, right here.” His friends cheered, while Gabriel and Beelzebub looked positively murderous. Gabriel huffed and waving his hands around angrily.

“Well, you can’t just refuse to be who you are,” he informed Adam. “Your birth, your destiny, they’re part of the Great Plan—”

Aziraphale stopped fretting over you when he heard those damnable words. The Great Plan. Poppycock. How many times has that phrase been used over the millennia to excuse all sorts of shit? As he listened to Gabriel and Beelzebub squabbling over not getting their war, he was hit with a sudden realization. It was something that had crossed his mind from time to time, but he had always dismissed it outright because…because of what, exactly? Righteousness? Fear? Was he afraid to acknowledge something so huge that it would shake the very foundations of his faith? He turned and gestured to Madame Tracy, who had been watching the proceedings with varying degrees of horror and fascination. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she hurried over, and it occurred to Aziraphale that he had inhabited that body not one hour ago. What a strange thought.

“What is it, my dear?” Tracy asked kindly. Aziraphale waved her closer to where he was sitting with you half across his lap.

“Tracy, would you mind terribly if I asked you to watch Y/N for a moment?” Tracy immediately got down on the ground beside him, reaching for your still weak body and pulling you gently towards her. She could see Mr. Shadwell inching closer out of the corner of her eye, but she focused on you.

“Oooh, you poor dear. We’ll have you right as rain as soon as all of this nonsense is over with!” She assured you, squeezing your hand. You sneezed and groaned.

Aziraphale rose to his feet, brushing the dirt and grit off of his trousers, and strode over to the rest of the group. He cleared his throat to get their attention.

“Ahem. Um, excuse me, you…keep talking about the Great Plan,” he began. Gabriel did not look at him when he replied,

“Aziraphale, maybe you should just keep your mouth shut.” Aziraphale had no intention of doing anything of the sort.

“One thing I’m not sure I’m clear on just yet. Is that the Ineffable Plan?” Gabriel and Beelzebub shared a confused and irritated look with each other.

“The Great Plan!” Beelzebub insisted, her voice going sort of staticky in her frustration. “It is written! There shall be a world, and it shall last for 6,000 yearzzz and end in fire and flame!”

“Yes, yes that sounds like the Great Plan.” He paused, smiling warmly at the two entities. “Just wondering, is that the Ineffable Plan as well?”

There was a short silence.

“Well, they’re the same thing!” Gabriel sounded a lot less confident than he had before. Crowley couldn’t believe it. All of this fighting. All of this uncertainty, and running around England searching for the bleeding Antichrist, trying to stop the unstoppable war and the two people in charge of the whole affair didn’t even know if God wanted it in the first place. You couldn’t make this drivel up, you really couldn’t.

“You don’t know,” Crowley was incredulous. He looked at Aziraphale and he knew that they were on the exact same page. He smirked. “Uh, well, it’d be a real pity if you’d thought you were doing what you thought the Great Plan said, but you were actually going against God’s Ineffable Plan. I mean, everyone knows the Great Plan, yeah? But the Ineffable Plan…” He licked his lips with his forked tongue. “Well, it’s ineffable, isn’t it? By definition we can’t know it.” Gabriel and Beelzebub looked stricken.

“But…it izzz written?” Beelzebub buzzed, disheartened. Crowley nearly felt sorry for the poor things, all the work they had put in, all for naught. Then he thought about all the work he had put in and found he didn’t care about their feelings anymore.

“God does not play games with the Universe.” Gabriel tried in a tone that sounded resolutely final, but with an expression that looked like someone had just broken his favorite toy. Crowley couldn’t help himself from laughing out loud at that one.

“Where have you been?” he asked in between chortles. The two of them stepped away from the group to have their own little conversation. Crowley watched as Aziraphale returned to his post at your side, nodding his thanks to the strange red-headed woman he had been when Crowley had first reunited with him. Gabriel and Beelzebub couldn’t resist one last threat directed towards Adam before they both blinked out of the world. That was that over, then, onto the next one.

You had been watching all this taking place from your spot on the cold, wet ground. Aziraphale’s coat and arms had been warm enough, but you couldn’t even focus on your own body with everything that was going on. You had never felt more confused in your life, surrounded by complete strangers, except for Aziraphale and Crowley. Aziraphale. The people who had taken you, they’d called themselves Angels, had known who he was, and had known about Crowley too. They had called Aziraphale an Angel, too, and Crowley a demon. They had demanded any and all information that you had concerning either one of them, but you had no idea what they were talking about. At first, you assumed that Aziraphale was secretly in some deep trouble with some strange crime syndicate, like a Godfather sort of thing. But the longer you stayed on that chair, the more you had begun to realize that these angels were…well, they were Angels. And that meant that Aziraphale was an Angel too.

________________________________________________________________

Of all the things you’d expected to happen to you, meeting actual Satan was not high on that list. After the shock of Aziraphale, Crowley, and …Adam(?) blinking in and out of existence, you were greeted by the deep rumbles and sharp smell of burnt earth announcing the arrival of the Great Adversary. Here. In the flesh. About a million feet taller than you, with only his top half poking out of the actual ground, Satan cast an extremely intimidating figure. Your heart stopped when Adam, a boy that couldn’t even be in his teens yet, stepped up to the Ruler of Hell and gave him a piece of his mind. Apparently, Adam was Satan’s son, and had never even seen his own father for the entirety of his life. Typical. Adam sent his father straight back to where he had come from. Once the pavement had patched itself up, a small, red car came tearing through the lingering smoke. The door opened, and out stepped a very cross, middle-aged man.

“Can anyone tell me, what exactly is going on?” He demanded. It turned out that this man was also Adam’s father, which was very confusing. The children all migrated over to him, and the rest of them stayed back, assessing the damage, and waiting to see if it all really was over. You watched as the young couple embraced almost forcefully; the man’s glasses being pushed askew with how…passionate his partner was being with her kisses. The red head and the old man with the Dr. Seuss-ian gun-thing were standing awkwardly next to each other, but you could see their hands brushing each other ever so slightly. Your boys had examined each other, and were now making their way over to you, Aziraphale not even bothering to hide his worry while Crowley sauntered along behind him.

“You alright, Y/N?” Crowley nearly could’ve convinced you that he wasn’t concerned about you, if it wasn’t for the serious expression on his face that completely belied the casual way he had spoken. Aziraphale stayed quiet, seemingly unable to meet your gaze. You looked back at Crowley.

“I’ve been better.” You paused. Aziraphale and Crowley had hidden this part of themselves from you, their true selves, one could say. Now that Crowley wasn’t wearing his glasses, you could see that he had sickly yellow eyes with slits for pupils. Aziraphale didn’t seem any different, but after what the Angels had told you, and what you had seen in the nightmares they had given you, he was hiding some very impressive wings under that trench coat. What were you supposed to do with this information now? The two people you had grown to love more than anyone else weren’t even human, apparently, and they had kept that from you the whole time you had known them. What else could they be lying about?

Immediately, you felt awful for even entertaining such a terrible thought. You knew it wasn’t like that. You could tell just by the look of pure remorse on Aziraphale’s face. Crowley was too much of a sweetheart at his core to hurt you needlessly. You wouldn’t treat them any different at all. You would accept them for who they were, just as they had accepted you with all your faults. You lifted a shaky arm towards the pair, pulling yourself back into the moment.

“Help me up?” They didn’t hesitate to come forwards, Crowley going to one side and Aziraphale going to the other to lift you as gently as they could off the ground. You groaned quietly as your aching body was made to move, but your boys held onto you, letting you lean on them for support. The moment he was sure that you wouldn’t collapse on them, Crowley dropped his hands and stepped back to where he had been before. Aziraphale did not. His fingers dug into the fabric around your waist almost as if he were afraid to let you go. You remembered the last time you had seen him, when he told you that he loved you and how reluctant he had been to let you leave even then. You turned around so that he was now holding you properly in his arms and placed your hands on his chest.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale startled and looked straight at you for the first time, completely bewildered. His grip on you lessened quite a bit, but he still did not let go.

“Y-you’re asking me if I’m alright? Have you seen yourself?”

“No, actually, but I’d imagine I’m not looking too hot at the moment.” Aziraphale appeared to have lost the power of speech. He sputtered, opening and closing his mouth like a fish while trying to find the words, any words, to say.

“Not too hot?! I can’t believe you, I really can’t. After everything—”

“You know, I’d really prefer it if you didn’t mention it, if you don’t mind.” You interrupted. “I promise I will let you therapize and rehabilitate me to your heart’s content later, but right now, I just want to make sure that you��re alright.”

The process of Aziraphale understanding what you had said was clear in the expressions on his face. At first, he was still baffled at your seemingly blasé attitude towards your kidnapping and torture. Then, you could see the change in him as he slowly realized what you had said. You knew it had clicked when Aziraphale’s mouth dropped open, and you had to hide your amusement when his eyes widened in genuine surprise. You evidently hadn’t been fast enough because Aziraphale quickly attempted to reel himself in, blinking and clearing his throat. He swallowed audibly.

“So…you…what I mean to say is—” He cut himself off. He bit the inside of his cheek, but you could tell that he was trying to hide the way his lips had begun to tremble ever so slightly. “After everything, you aren’t…you…you want to see me again?” Your heart broke at how shyly hopeful he sounded. You grinned, lifting your hands to frame his beautiful face. One of his hands flew to cover yours, his thumb stroking your knuckles absentmindedly.

“Of course, you silly man. Though I suppose I should call you Angel, now, huh?”

“I will never be able to tell you how sorry I am about that, Y/N. I wanted to tell you, truly I did. I even planned to more than once, but I could never summon the courage. I will never forgive myself for what they did to you, those horrible, vile—” He broke off when you lifted onto your tip toes to press your lips to his cheek. He stared down at you in shock.

“We don’t have to talk about any of that right now, Azi. Really, we don’t have to talk about it at all, although I know you’ll need to get it off your chest eventually. I’m just glad that I have my boys back. All the rest, we can deal with later.”

Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself. He had waited all these months pinning for you, never once thinking that you could possibly feel the same. And then, on the night he had tried to force you to leave him by saying all those wicked things, you’d told him that you loved him too. After weeks of not knowing where you were, but not being able to look for you, after seeing what the angels had done to you, after feeling you here, alive and in his arms and looking at him like that, he couldn’t stop himself from tilting his head and leaning down to (finally) plant a kiss on your lips.

Your reaction was instant. Your hands dropped from his face to go around his neck, pulling him farther down so that you could feel his lips more fully against your own. He pulled you in closer, feeling the desperate urge to never let you out of his sight again. You sighed into the kiss, prompting Aziraphale to put a slow and reluctant end to it. You were still in public, after all, with an audience. The both of you pulled apart, unwilling to end the moment.

Aziraphale opened his eyes before you did and took great joy in being able to watch your serene face for the few moments your eyes stayed shut. He felt a sharp pang in his heart as your eyelids fluttered open, almost as though you had just awoken from a very pleasant dream. Your smile could have lit up a room, and it was all for him. He almost couldn’t take it. He could feel Crowley’s excitement radiating off of him, but he ignored his friend. You were the only thing that mattered. He raised a hand to tuck a bit of your hair behind your ear, smiling serenely down at you.

“So…what does this mean, then?” You asked, hating that you had to interrupt the moment that you were having, but needing to know the answer. After everything, you needed Aziraphale in your life more than ever, and if he didn’t feel the same, now was the time to break it off. You couldn’t wait around for him to stop being afraid to love you, you needed it to happen now.

Aziraphale wanted to say many things, but something was holding him back. He frowned inwardly, confused. What was making him hesitate? Every inch of his body wanted to fly to you, to stay wrapped protectively around you until the Universe finally burned into nothing. But there was some small, wriggling thing trying to grasp his attention, fluttering around on the wind—

That damned prophecy! “When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choose your faces wisely, for soon enouff ye will be playing with fyre”. Fire…Aziraphale had to talk to Crowley about it. He couldn’t quite parse it on his own, although the “faces” part was fairly straightforward. He refocused his attention on you, and felt his heart twinge at the mix of emotions on your face.

“My deepest apologies, dearest, I was lost in thought. What this means—” he took your face in both of his hands, holding you as the precious gift you were, “Is that Crowley and I unfortunately have one very small thing that we must take care of to ensure that any loose ends get tied up. After we have finished with that…”

Aziraphale trailed off. All of his insecurities, all of his doubts that he wasn’t good enough for you, that you would turn him away, especially after what his kind had done to you, raced to the forefront of his mind and stopped his mouth. You frowned a little, but slowly, realization dawned on you and your expression turned sad. You lifted your hands to cover his.

“Aziraphale, listen to me. I love you. I will continue to love you for the foreseeable future. I want to be with you. I just…I need to know if that’s what you want, too. If it’s not, I will understand, but I can’t keep waiting, Azi. I need you to tell me what—”

You were interrupted by Aziraphale’s lips crashing into yours once again, this time with much more urgency, like he was trying to answer you with the kiss. Before you could sink into the kiss, he pulled away, his eyes wide.

“Of course that’s what I want, my darling. I will stay by your side for as long as you will have me. I love you too, and I am so very sorry for everything—” You stopped him with a finger to his lips.

“Shh. I said I don’t want to talk about that right now.” You dropped your hands and grinned. “Well, I suppose you’ll be stuck with me forever then.”

The smile that Aziraphale gave you was so utterly pure that it almost broke your heat.

“Then I suppose I am fortunate that there’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with, aren’t I?”

________________________________________________________________

The swap had gone perfectly. Each side was completely bamboozled by their trick, and equally terrified of the possibilities it implied. Crowley had been absolutely chuffed at how well his plan had gone off. Aziraphale was equally pleased to be done with the whole situation—that is, at least until the next Big Thing showed itself. But for now, everything was put to rights.

Nearly everything, that is.

Crowley hadn’t even needed to ask before dropping Aziraphale off at your apartment, where they had left you. Even after your conversation on the airfield, Aziraphale could feel his nerves skyrocket as Crowley pulled into park in front of the building. He tried to even his breathing, but it didn’t seem to be working.

“Angel, you’re going to hyperventilate” said Crowley, unhelpfully. Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I know that, thank you.” Aziraphale loved Crowley, he really did, but sometimes the Demon’s lack of a bedside manner really irritated—oh. Aziraphale looked down to wear Crowley had put his hand on top of Aziraphale’s trembling one. He looked over at his friend, whose head was turned away from Aziraphale, towards the driver side window.

“Listen, Angel. You’ve made a lot of mistakes. I’m frankly surprised that she still wants you after everything—” Aziraphale yanked his hand out from under his friend’s and moved to get out of the car.

“Really, Crowley, you’re not helping.”

“No, Aziraphale, listen to me.” Crowley sounded annoyed now, and when Aziraphale looked back at him, the Demon was staring back at him.

“She loves you. Despite everything that has happened, she wants to stay with you. That means a lot, Angel. You’ve got something real special with her, you know. Almost as special as us. I know you’ll want to have a therapy sesh with her, but promise me you’ll hold off on that until you’ve had a proper reunion alright? She just needs you to be with her right now. She doesn’t need Aziraphale the Angel, she needs her Azi. Make sense?”

Aziraphale didn’t notice until Crowley stopped talking, but he had apparently started crying during Crowley’s speech, and now he reached up to wipe his tears away. On pure impulse, he reached out to pull his oldest friend into a tight hug, putting all of his love and gratitude into the embrace. After a few moments, he felt Crowley awkwardly tap his shoulder and Aziraphale pulled back, knowing how important personal space was to the other being.

“Thank you, dear boy.” With that, he got out of the car and headed to the apartment, pausing to wave goodbye to Crowley. Aziraphale took a deep breath and rung the bell to your flat.

Tag List:

@chelsfic @lordbeezyprinceofhell @bi-andreadyto-cry @petalduck @dreamerkim @stripedbugs @caligirl1992 @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen @laszlossssss @fayeriee @okay-j-hannah @plantsbringhappiness

PLEASE tell my if you want to be added/taken off/have asked before but I’m stupid so you don’t see your name here!!!!

#mine #Aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #aziraphale imagine #crowley #good omens

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polyhexian · 4 months

Note

i see youve been reblogging a lot of angel hare stuff lately! what are your general thoughts on the series?

oh have I lol? i have a queue so that means i binged the angel hare tag a couple weeks ago and shoved a bunch in there.

i love it! its so unique and creative and I genuinely think its refreshing to see religion used in this kind of narrative as a positive force rather than a sort of generic Evil. its so boring when stuff just uses like. demons or christian aesthetic without anything specific in it. stuff that will talk deep about demonology and angels but pretends jesus isnt relevant because its Secular Religious Aesthetic. its boring! its uninspired! its SAFE. angel hare is unique in that not only is it very specific but the supernatural element in the story IS the force of good and the force of evil is the mundane human element, the every day horror of abuse.

and also how fucking dope is the idea of an angel, a genuine angel of fucking god, talking a little kid whos probably like, three, through disassembling and reassembling a gun and shooting his abusive father dead with it. holy fucking shit. holy shit. what. that fucking rules. the nuance of the rules of god here not being the generic strict rules that murder is bad, forgiveness is good, blablabla. i love the bit where we see the video version of the lying episode has gabby and the viewer forgive francis but the recorded version tell him no, you dont have to forgive someone who hurts you. remember that the sun can be warm, but never forget the times that it burns you. your dad might sometimes seem kind but dont ever forget what he does to you. you do. not. have. to. forgive. and even as far as you SHOULDN'T forgive. and that is the opinion of the positive force angel of god.

its great. its creative and unique and theres nothing quite like it. and the presentation! i mean the text parts can be a little much at times but the animation- the first episode. holy shit. when she flew away in the taped version i was like hmmm where are we going with this. she goes into her house and im still like hmm. then she picks up the chair and says "this will be our strength" and puts it under the door and i was fucking floored dude. i straight up had to pause because of the lightning shot of ice that went up my spine. the genuine fucking real world horror of understanding. thats how you do a fucking horror reveal dude, she never says it out loud but you KNOW. just from that one moment you know EVERYTHING you need to. it all unfolds right then in a fucking instant. holy shit. thats fucking storytelling dude. thats incredible.

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best-underrated-anime · 6 months

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Best Underrated Anime Group F Round 1: #F2 vs #F7

#F2: 90s maid girls with guns

It’s the year 1999 in Akihabara, Tokyo, Japan. 17-year-old girl Nagomi excitedly moves there to work in a pig-themed maid café. Once she starts working, though… she realizes that the world of Akiba maid café is darker and more violent than she thought...

#F7: Transmigrator heals a reincarnation revenge story.

Dongfang Xianyun transmigrates as the eldest disciple of the Care-free sect. But the only thing that goes through his mind is to make sure he doesn’t end up dying by the hands of the “main character.” He believes he’s just a side character. He just wants to relax and survive all the mayhem surrounding him while dealing with one of his jealous sect teammates, who grew corrupted in the past life.

*Transmigration = similar to isekai, but the world where the characters get isekai’d to is not always a western fantasy type. And a transmigrator is one who transmigrates.

Titles, propagandas, trailers, and poll under the cut!

#F2: Akiba Maid War (Akiba Meido Sensou)

youtube

Propaganda:

It was animated by P.A. Works! As far as I know, they also worked on Buddy Daddies, Angel Beats, Ya Boy Kongming, etc. Cygames also contributed to this anime!! The story is creative as well. Who would’ve thought of a cute maid mafia anime? Keep in mind, this is a P. A. Works ORIGINAL. They went SO crazy on this anime. There’s also 12 episodes, which means that you can binge it all on one day and still be satisfied :D The OP and ED are also catchy, creative and unskippable. Despite its dark themes, it can sometimes get a little more “lighthearted” and silly, even in the most violent scenes ;P

Trigger Warnings: Flashing Lights, Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore.

Just like what I explained, it’s violent. A lot of guns. And a lot of blood. Yes, they kill fellow maids in like every episode ever lol. Also, since Akiba is known to have flashy street signs, like every city ever…. And the guns, of course…that’s why I put the Flashing Lights warning.

#F7: There’s a Pit in my Senior Martial Brother’s Brain (Wo Jia Dashixiong Naozi You Keng)

youtube

Official English title: What’s Wrong With My Big Brother

Alt Title: My Dashixiong Has a Pit in His Brain

Propaganda:

This series is kind of insane but also just a lot of fun! The thing is, the shidi (junior martial sect brother), Yin Feixing, felt betrayed by his dashixiong (eldest senior sect brother), Dongfang Xianyun, after he was seemingly rejected for ending up studying the demonic arts. After he dies, he decides to take revenge in the next life, and this is where our story starts off…

The only problem is his dashixiong has been replaced by a transmigrator. And our new Dongfang Xianyun is not as cold or uptight as the past dashixiong (but as the story unravels, was he even that bad?); rather, this version is silly and goofy and fun. And because he believes wholeheartedly that Yin Feixing is the protagonist, he doesn’t act the way a dashixiong is expected to—but it’s in this silliness that one can find sincerity…

So as Yin Feixing exacts his revenge, turning Dongfang Xianyun into a demonic arts practitioner, Dongfang Xianyun’s new soul means he won’t follow the same path as Yin Feixing. Rather than fall to ruins like Yin Feixing, his empathy and creativity means he challenges this entire world by making his fellow demonic practitioners into law-abiding heroes, even as people hate him for the demonic arts. So as multiple plots unfurl, we get a pretty emotional, thematically interesting story, even amidst all the (very funny) crazy comedy, and a clever parody of xianxia* and other transmigration stories. 😆

(*Xianxia (仙侠 xiānxiá) – literally means “Immortal Heroes”. Fictional stories featuring magic, demons, ghosts, immortals, and a great deal of Chinese folklore/mythology. Protagonists (usually) attempt to cultivate to Immortality, seeking eternal life and the pinnacle of strength. Heavily inspired by Daoism. Source)

Oh, and Gong Changsheng is best puppy! He’s such a good sunflower boy with the biggest crush on Dongfang Xianyun, and I love them so much. I think lots of others will love them too if they gave this series a chance. 🥺

The slightly evolving names for each season are fun too:

S1: 我家大师兄脑子有坑 (My Dashixiong Has a Pit in His Brain (aka “he’s really dumb/ridiculous”))

S2: 我家大师兄是个反派 (My Dashixiong Is a Villain)

S3: 我家大师兄有点靠谱 (My Dashixiong Is a Bit Reliable)

(Plus, besides the original manhua, there’s a fun chibi OVA where the cast are like actors!)

Trigger Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore. The donghua isn’t as intense as the manhua, but there is one character who flirts in a somewhat creepy manner.

If you’re reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

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brainyrot · 1 year

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ok giving more story to my au because a new chapter dropped for the BaBotqftim fic and i got motivation

As said before, the storyline dosen't change much.

Bendy is still Boris brother, bendy and Boris still go and try to look for the parts for the ink machine, they still befriend alice, holly, cup, mugs and everyone else,

What changes is more of Bendy's feelings, personality and story behind him.

he does not have parents, he used to, but died for a reason unknown. and when his father died, who used to be the previous prince of hell, the devil saw potential in the child and decided to put him in charge.

So basically, a child was put in charge of such big title.

He is supposed to help the devil but as a child who didn't even fully developed yet he can't do much, so he's mainly just watching and getting privileges over others.

to put it short: he got spoiled.

though, for a child, who constantly gets to hear about the surface, it's costumes, and it's people, and sometimes they even get to see it, they get curious.

and bendy, gets very curious, and gets very privileged.

So, at the age of 18, where people told him he could do whatever he wanted because he was old enough to do so (meaning also working as the actual prince of hell) what did he do?

Went to the surface.

Yes, he shouldn't have a problem with it, his job does ask him to be on the surface,

But it certainly doesn't ask him to turn himself in the cute version of himself, make his first deal with a puppy and be his brother both by contract and legally, and SAVE THE WORLD.

yes, it's true he's trying really bad to keep his reputation low and so giving all the credit to everyone else on the team, but everything keeps going downhill,

It's embarrassing to have to work for a puppy and be his brother (while also looking really small and cute.), And then demon puberty (luckily that part is partially saved by his mentor black hat, hates to admit it but he's thankful for the demon's help.) And then he gets the habit of "thank you" and "please" (hurts his pride but has to set an example for the small puppy.) And THEN he befriends an angel AND develops a crush on HER. (which, he honestly dosen't care if she was a demon, a human, an angel, or whatever, it's the fact that he fell in love so EASILY. he's not too fond of romance, he's disgusted by his own feelings he can't suppress.)

And.. he's saving the world?? From this ink illness?? (Yes it is true that he himself is mainly working only for himself, he has the illness and he is his priority, but still...if the demons down there hears it..or worse yet, the DEVIL..)

oh and let's not forget a few details!

he lives most of his time on the surface, and while yes he still goes to hell, he's basically being raised on the surface for how much he stays there.

he has taken a liking to those people in the house with him, he considers them "friends" (weird concept still, especially because they don't ask anything in return, and he stopped asking in return either, but feels nice. Which is WEIRD.)

And all the weirdness of the surface dwellers and surface itself.

but most of all, he is changing.

At first he just didn't care. At all.

Literally, he only cared about himself, he didn't care about demons, he didn't care about ANYONE but himself,

But when he has met that little pup, he has taken someone else in the "i care about that" list.

Then it just grew more and more, until he just stopped being the merciless and spiteful demon he once was?

On some degrees he's still not a good person but man! These people are good at the "i can change him" Game.

it's starting to get him way too much for his own liking and the demons liking.

LUCKILY FOR HIM, for the few of them who knows about this (black hat, raide, ava ect.) He managed to convice them it was just an act. (he's trying to convince himself it is, and that his crush for Alice does not exist.)

For the others he just needs to keep it secret until he can't anymore.

but why does he hide it? Because he's the prince of hell, do you know the scandal if the demon race would find out that he, bendy, the ink demon, the prince of hell, has gotten soft? it would make a chaos.

if it wasn't for that, he wouldn't have cared. But he has to blame his own mindset too, that gets in the way of him accepting his own changes.

We don't talk about how in his head he keeps calling mr.felix "dad"

Little facts:

- bendy is older than he originally is in the fic, he turned 18 when he found Boris, he's in his 20s in the current time (which is still very young for a demon.)

- this means that when he found Boris, not only he had to change his looks, he had to lie about his own age (because his contract was to be the kid's brother not to adopt him, and I'm his head he thought he had to be the kid's playmate.), So now, he's here, being in his 20s in hell, and 18 on the surface.

- he genuinely does not care if Alice is an angel, or better yet, an archangel, it's that he has a CRUSH. In his eyes having a crush and feeling so "funny" about someone makes him feel WEAK and he is disgusted and dissapointed in himself because of it. (And the whole scene where he admits his feelings to Alice does not happen. He rather make a scandal on the surface and go on a date with a guy. (Why do they care so much anyway?))

- at least he knows about own culture, but this time he's completely clueless about the surface, but he does have some informations since he has been with Boris (even though not constantly) for years.

- he knows the basics of course, but it's when he started being on the surface constantly that he noticed he didn't know as much as he thought he did.

He used to practice his thank you and please, and now it's an habit (kinda hates it.), And he even had to study a few words to understand people (why do they say the name of a fruit? Why berries?)

But he's currently way better than before.

- during the cup brothers confession, he also had to say his part, it was way too embarrassing for him to admit, but the puppy said it for him. (He can't believe he had to admit he is here because he said yes to being a kid's brother!)

- Alice and everyone else in the house truly believe bendy can change, and do notice and are happy for the changes that he had. (they don't know he is not as nice as he makes himself be during his time in the surface though.)

Deep down he knows he's only doing all of this out of spite because he thinks it's funny. (Especially when he sees people reactions.)

#fun au #made an au just because #bendy and boris in the inky mystery #babtqftim #prince of hell au #yes a lots of actions he did out of kindness ect in this au he made them mainly for himself #for his own safety and/or because the guy who was messing with him or his friend particularly annoyed him #he got out free from the cirus and didn't help any of his new demon buddies was because he only cared for himself at the moment #and boris #he didn't really care for ava and her brother or the fallen angels #just wanted to get out of there #y'know?

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 6 months

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Pssst hey poke poke wanna rant about Diablo II is it any good Iv been considering getting into the series

Absolutely!!!!!!!

Oh my fucking God, ok ok ok...

So. I love it.

Diablo II remastered is my favorite in the series, and I can't even verbalize how much of a fucking gremlin I become over this game, bro. Dude. Okay so. Hot takes, coming in, but the second one is my favorite in terms of art design, gameplay, and overall vibe. It's also a pain in my ass. But a good pain lol.

In terms of playability, something a lot of people complain about with older games is the lack of explanation for a lot of gameplay mechanics (not just Diablo, if you play older games you probably know what I'm talking about), so the first two games even remastered can feel sluggish, unnecessarily difficult, and confusing. Which are very valid criticisms, I don't side with gamers who complain about new games coddling their players however. Straight up, the horadric cube in D2 doesn't have an instruction manual. Bless the internet.

Diablo 1 and 2 have just an incredible atmosphere and artistic design. It's dark fantasy. The angels are sick as fuck. The cover art; o r g a s m i c. Like,

And for some people who didn't grow up playing Diablo II, the learning curve is really steep. But I enjoy it! I love starting new characters and then deleting them again because I found a better build. Experimenting without looking up guides for point allocation and gear.

This is the cover art for Diablo II: Resurrected.

This is how I want to feel going into my fights. This is my enemy. Sexy as hell. I would recommend this game, it's one of my all time favorites. The characters are connected through your battlenet account, so if you buy the game for your Xbox and for the Switch as I did, you play your same game. Which is probably a no brainer for people who played video games for a lot longer than me, but I didn't have a console until I was in my twenties.

If you ever get this game, and wanna cry when encountering the first boss, I will give you my ultimate guide to how this dumbass cheesed their way through the encounter without dying ❤️

Also, secret level, near the beginning of the game you go through a portal and you can pick up a dead guy's artificial leg. Keep it. Later, you can use it with the horadric cube to unlock the best fucking level of all goddamn time. 🐮

Now, the other games... Diablo III.

The gameplay was way too easy (for me at least). After the first boss the story gets better, but everything about the third game is super different.. It's art is super stylized. It feels cartoonish in the lineup. It isn't dark, even with the body horror and literal demons, because everything feels colorful. It's the anime inspired fantasy roleplay version of the grim dark heavy metal fantasy games. I liked the story, because I was so invested in Diablo II that I needed to experience what came next, and I don't regret playing it, it was fun, but it didn't have that replayability factor imo. That's just me though.

Before anyone complains, yes I played RoS and Death was sick as fuck, these are just my silly little opinions playing the games. But like, it just didn't frustrate me, or make me feel like I was in a life and death war. But, if you like power play fantasies, Diablo III: Reaper of Souls, necromancer broken as fuck. Kept having to raise the difficulty while playing because I blasted through everything.

Before I go on, you know that trope where angels are dicks? Cuz these games are full of angels that are huge dicks. Best angel in the entire series is in the third game, he's the best character, I won't say his name because they act like it's supposed to be a surprise that he's an angel but ahshgsjsj..... I replay for him, and Diablo, but other than that it's only fun to play with someone who hasn't experienced it yet so I can vicariously feel their enjoyment. If that makes sense.

And my ultimate disappointment, Diablo IV.

The story is awesome. The cut scenes are cinematic. Lilith is superb. They went back to the same dark realistic atmosphere of pre D3.

I'm just really bitter about microtransaction hell, season passes in a game that just came out and was so pricey, and end game content that felt like a chore instead of a game.

It was super rewarding the first playthrough, don't get be wrong! The story was so fun, and the monsters were delightful bastards. They brought back the Butcher from part three, but unlike in D3, he was a huge asshole in D4, sunnova bitch lol

The game was so fun until we got to the end game and season of the malignant.. the developers keep arguing with the community whenever they bring up valid criticisms instead of addressing what's lacking. I wish the game wasn't so expensive, because I would recommend it if it was just a fun game..? I liked it, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the developers do something better with season passes or with future dlc expansions.

I hate real world currency in game shops and a lot of season passes. DLCs I understand. I like. But a season pass that's ridiculously expensive on top of an already pricey game that doesn't add enough new content for actual gameplay and instead makes you grind for a new horse skin? And grinding.

Ugh. I still really enjoyed it, but I can't in good conscience recommend it because the price makes me feel guilty. It's great, until you beat the game. It's open world, but the missions are limited, and the grind isn't rewarding. Again, crossing my fingers they make it more fun with future updates.

Such a bad bitch. Fucking love her. Mommy. The initial game is great. Just not for that price. Open world games should be playable forever, and that's what D4 promised, they just didn't deliver.

Sorry if this is a mess, I'm about to fall asleep ❤️ but yeah, I fucking love this series, even when I don't. The story and characters and the atmosphere when it's there.

#thank you so much for asking this!!#i love diablo ii #i fucking love video games #diablo 2 #diablo #diablo 3 #diablo 4 #lilith #cow level

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