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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 2 months

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the bafta livestream out of context: top 60 cursed quotes.

There is nothing more cursed than the livestream I just witnessed, and I made a summary post but now I'm just going to put in quotes by the worthy maggots in the stream with no context, because BELIEVE ME THE CONTEXT DIDN'T MAKE ANYTHING BETTER. The livestream chat was NOT A PLACE OF THE LORD.

I'm going to make the quotes that were by me a different colour. Please know that I am NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR A SINGLE QUOTE OTHER THAN THOSE. SO HERE'S THE TOP 60 IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:

Barbenhimer awakened things in me ok

aroace people the most disturbingly sexual talkers on the planet fight me on this

WHO JUST GASPED

MICHAEL SHEENS BABY TALKING BARK BADK IM A DOG BARK WOOF

I feel so sorry for this woman. She's being so heartfelt and we're here thristing over a slinky that possessed a man

IRELAAAND PLEASE ADOPT ME AS YOUR OWN PLEASE TAKE ME TO THE LAND OF UNPRONOUNCABLE WORDS, GREEN FEILD, CATHOLISISM AND HOZIER PLEASE

the urge to go to france and misgender a croissant is real

Devastated the slutty knees have gone away

So many men nowadays are so submissive and breedable like thank you lord for these men thank you

witches and murder slime tutorial

speaking of royals did the bloke who ISN'T lizzy's husband but her son apparently die yet

Turtleneck Crowley is my gender.

WE COULD HAVE LEFT IT AS NOT SAFE FOR WORK WHY THE DRTAOLS ASMI

SAY AN BFUIL CEAD AGAM DUL GO DTÍ AN LEITHREAS AN WE'LL LET YOU THROUGJ

"Oompa loompa doopety dee, I really hated being in this movie" -Hugh grant probably

IF YOU'RE A CHILD AVERT YOUR EYES FROM THAT MESSAGE IM SORRY

i want the kilt back this a betrayal

if someone put me in a room with kilt!david tennant one of us is walking out of that room pregnant and its not gonna be me

a lot of these words are in the bible and none of them should be in that order you need jesus

Can we vote to make david wear that kilt back? Maybe make him do a twirl this time

You mean Bildaddy? 😏

Honey what make you think a dude who roamed around with prostitutes and got himself more holes for mankind won't be calling bildad bildaddy? [this was about jesus btw.]

FREE THE KNEE

Show us the knees!

AND YOU'RE COMING AFTER ME FOR MY BLOWJOB BANANA

He looks like those fancy chocolates. Imma take a bite outta him. Think you'll leak molten goo like them?

My brain isn't working, I read "bratty couch jr"

i'm sorry the what holes

FIND ME ON GOAD AND I WILL MAKE YOU PAY APPROPRIATELY

I genuinely thought it was a road typo and I thought you were threatening asmi with physical violence on the road

OHH FLOWER OF SCOTLAAAAAAND

Combine that with the unfortunate oranges and see what happens.

DEVASTATING NEWS I ATE UP ALL OF THEM SO I'VE BROUGHT A BLOWJOB BANANA INSTEAD

That reminded me of the army video where the guy was deepthroating a 7 inch banana without a hitch.

OMG THEY JUST FLASHED BACK & I GOT A GLIMPSE OF THAT KILT 🥵🥵🥵

thats why apollo had to deliver you at an illegal sushi restaurant

How long do you think it would take to get david naked from his chocolate man suit? Can we set a new speedrun category?

SUPERBOWL FOR TENNANTISTS

Big feelings about pants straps in the chat tonight

Last time i check yoire supposed to thank the lord gor his gifts

HEY GUYS ASMI'S FROM A PARALLEL UNIVERSE CONFIRMED

I just have a deep appreciation for ireland

Can you use suspenders as bondage gear? I mean it looks like it would be fine? I mean if you make the length a bit more they might be more comfortable than ropes. Just sayin

All i can think when i see him in the costume is the one specific ken and oppenhimer slash fic. Lord help me i can't be saved

GIVE MY LOVE TO THE LEPRECHAAAAAAAAAAAUNSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Like a giant orange slice on her one arm.

Stop hitting the lectern geez / what if its into that?

Men who wear suspenders are such losers like why do you need so much cloth to keep your pants up. Why dont you just wear a belt. Where do you live. What is your timezone. What are you office hours

what is this suspender shaming ari chappal for you

Aziraphales office hours are: fuck off

Put me ina room with a suspender wearing man and he shall have the same fate as kilttennant

MARIYADAM E ILLAI

It was titled "snake in my b***" It meant butt lmfao

CROWLEY AND LOKI MY GENDERFLUID ICONS

THE KNEES ARE BACK

THEKNEES GOD SAVE ME FROM THESE SINFUL THOUGHTS

What if slutshaming is my kink?

NOT THE BLOWJOB FACE NO

AT THIS POINT IF NEIL HASN'T UNFOLLOWED ME YET HE'S ASKING TO BE MENTALLY SCARRED IM SORRY

I am failing

Tagging the main culprits whose tumblr handles I know:

@thearoacemess @vitrilol @queermarzipan @good-usernames-were-taken

Cheers, maggots.

#good omens mascot #weirdly specific but ok #asmi #good omens #maggots #good omens fandom #crowley #bafta awards #bafta 2024 #bafta #suspenders #discord livestream #david tennant #michael sheen #barbenheimer #oppenheimer

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nightgoodomens · 2 months

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Late to the party but wdym David * Hosting and presenting is not my day job and I'll go back to my wee acting corner after BAFTAs, this is just a one night thing* Tennant is now hosting a freakin game show???? Can't blame him tho, if my boyfriend would unaplogaticly lose his mind over how good of a job I did and how hot I looked on The Radio noless, I would too start hosting every single damn show 🤭 The influence that man had on his confidence is blinding and gorgeous to watch.

I know right 😂 David is so confident with Michael and he’s such a TEASE to him 🤣 I love to see it. He’s scoring such big jobs with this new look and confidence too!

Michael: Thin Dark Duke

David: Oh is this a Thin Dark Duke outfit? Oh and this one? Uh oh look at that, another one!

Michael (probably after Macbeth): THE KILT

David: KILT?! Did you say KILT? Wait and see 😈 and my other Thin Dark Duke outfits… and this time shaving and doing Crowley hair too…

Michael: He did good, the boy did good! And he looks good in a kilt, doesn’t he? 😏

David: Is this… a game show…

It’s like watching foreplay between them 🤣🤣🤣🤣

David: The kiss was fun!

Michael: EVERYTHING YOU COULD DREAM OF

Can’t wait to see what’s next 😁

#NightGoodOmens talks Michael and David

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evilasiangenius · 18 days

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“Wait, you’re-” Crowley gasped.

“A Prince of Hell,” the tiny creature agreed, before changing and taking a more standard humanoid shape. Not particularly tall, perhaps a handspan shorter than Crowley himself, but built broad and solid, heavy muscle padded with a generous layer of fat and a chubby belly. Sun-burnished skin and a frizz of curling black hair that cascaded around those bulky shoulders, the Prince of Hell was stripped to the waist and wore a kilt of woven lauʻie, with a stripe of black and red feathers above a loose fringe that waved hypnotically in the water. Around a stout neck was draped a necklace of whale teeth that somehow formed the Prince’s name. And instead of wearing the black crown of state that all the royalty of Hell wore, of heavy meteoric iron, this Prince of Hell wore a simple plaited crown of green leaves and crimson flowers. Somehow those leaves and flowers formed the Prince’s name as well, announcing to the world that this was Leviathan.

Crowley backed up, finding himself with his back pressed against a solid wall of cold, sharp volcanic stone.

“You’ve been looking for me. Here I am. Was there something you wanted?” Leviathan asked, as if the answer was not already known.

“I...” And he looked around frantically, hoping that Aziraphale had followed him.

“Your friend isn’t here. And even if he were...he couldn’t interfere. Do you really think a Prince of Hell would not support his brother against a member of the Opposition?”

“No, I suppose not.” Crowley felt himself trembling all over, and he hugged himself tight, as if that would cover the motion. “Wh-what do you want?”

“I’m here to ask the same thing,” Leviathan said. “No one has ever looked for me this long, especially not an angel. What are you doing down here? How are you even here? I thought your kind couldn’t bodily enter the water.”

“Th-thwarting? O-on assi- ass. Asses. Assigh- Erm, work.” Crowley squeaked, dropping his hands to his sides because he realized he shouldn’t look like a small scared thing, not when facing the Adversary. Or, at least a former agent of the Adversary who was now technically a runaway.

“Ah.” Leviathan crossed muscular arms over an ample chest.

Crowley felt the edges of friable stone press sharp beneath his palms, and the pain reminded him why he was here. He took a deep breath.

“I...I’m here to ask if you would trade places with another. If you would allow him to step down and that you would take his place, back in the hierarchy of Hell.”

#reverse omens #good omens #angel crowley #demon aziraphale #crowley #leviathan #the seventh prince of hell

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hawkland · 3 years

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My (mostly) Destiel Recs, Round-up #6

Well, between working like crazy on my DCBB fic and GISH and injuring my neck last month I haven’t kept up with my rec posts, so this one is going to be LONG and have a LOT and I’m going to try to break it up into sections, from oldies but goodies (some things I found on very old rec lists) to smutty delights to just tasty little bits of fluff, hopefully there’s something or everyone here. Most of these are not super-long, largely in the 10-25k range, though there are a few beyond that. With all the stuff I’ve had going on I haven’t wanted to lose sleep diving into 100k epics (especially when I’m writing my own right now, lol.)

“Oldies” but Goodies: Here are two great fics written some time way back when but that still definitely slap.

Theodicy by manic_intent (11k) - Probably the most brilliant Godstiel fic I’ve read to date. One of Cas’s first acts as the new god is to make a new archangel. Dean isn’t exactly on board with having his soul re-sculpted into wings he hates on sight (especially as they seem magnetically drawn to Cas), but he isn’t exactly given a choice. He, Sam and Bobby struggle with how to handle their former friend suddenly becoming a vindictive deity - trying to make plans to kill him if they must, which is pretty hard when it seems like Cas is always one step ahead of him. Can Dean hold on to enough of his humanity to provide a conscience to Cas and try to steer him toward good acts instead of destruction? This is one that I can’t say has a perfectly happy ending, but it’s a hopeful and imperfect one that’s just right for how the story plays out.

My Eyes Are An Ocean by entanglednow (10k) - Season 5 AU where Dean averts the apocalypse through a spell that “powers up” all the angels and he sees Cas’s true form - before being rendered blind. Dean tries to adjust to his blindness, Cas tries to deal with his guilt, and it’s just a lovely little read with an ending that’s... *chef’s kiss*

Lots more recs below the cut:

More great reads from some of my favorite authors I’ve recced before:

The Cabin on the Lake by DeanRH (21k) - This may be my new favorite DeanRH fic...at least for the moment. The year is 2152, Sam and Dean are long gone to Heaven, while Cas - stuck somewhere between mortal and angel - remains on Earth keeping vigil, keeping up the hunt, assuming he’ll never see either Winchester ever again. But when he starts hearing things, and imagining Dean visiting him as an angel himself, he starts losing grip on what is and isn’t real, and whether he can trust anything he sees or believes to be the truth. This is one hell of a psychological rollercoaster that kept me guessing right along with Cas until the very end. It also has some super-creepy horror elements, a novel “monster of the week”, and the hot-as-sin smut scenes I always expect from this author.

X Marks the Scot by DeanRH (15.9k) A fun little romp through history in one of this author’s great not-quite-au fics. Crowley sends Dean and Sam back in history to the Scottish Highlands to stop a monster, and while there they meet a blue-eyed clan chief who makes Dean weak in the knees. There’s something familiar about him, too. a very clever au that ties back to canon for an unexpected fix-it. Also, Cas in a kilt. Enough said.

The Hanging Gardens of Babylon by DeanRH (12k) - Sweet and slightly angsty AU. What if Dean was a gardener in ancient Babylon when a strange dignitary came to warn that the tower under construction was to be destroyed by angels? Lush, romantic and sexy with some wonderful tie-ins to canon characterizations (of Dean, Sam, John and of course Cas).

sufficient for thee by angelfishofthelord (21k) - This is a beautiful Cas angst-fest and character study that reimagines how angel grace works, particularly in regards to healing others. It covers the whole of Cas’s arc from Season 4 through a post-series fix-it, is absolutely stunning and features some great world-building in regards to the angels. (One important TW: those with cutting/self-harm issues may wish to skip or at least proceed with caution). I love that I can always count on angelfishofthelord when I need a good dose of Cas!whump and pain.

And laugh at gilded butterflies by ireallydidthistomyself (13k) - another great Dadstiel fic from this author featuring one of my favorite angsty subjects! I don’t know how I missed reading this one before. An AU where Cas is raising (baby)Jack on his own until the angels find the two of them and prepare to seal Jack away in the Ma’lak box. Cas begs them to let him go with Jack, so at least Jack won’t be alone for eternity. Meanwhile Dean is frantically trying to find what happened to Cas, and he gets some unexpected help from Crowley. It’s sad and sweet and all the characterizations are great. A+ Crowley use here, too.

what stays (and what fades away) by dothraki_shieldmaiden (64k) - a fabulous read with some great art, too, that started me reading a bunch of fic from this author. Cas goes missing, and when he’s found he seems deep under a spell. When they finally manage to awaken him, he doesn’t remember anything of this life with Dean, Sam and Cas in the bunker. The last thing he knew he was a nurse living with his wonderful husband, Dean, and their two adopted children, Jack and Claire. What I loved about this one was the clever twist as to who was behind Cas’s curse and also how well-developed his AU world/existence was. I’m not generally keen on mundane aus or the one-dimensional way a lot of djinn dream fics tend to go for them, but this one managed to capture a believable version of Dean and Cas living a “normal” life without monsters without making it sugary/too-sweet.

before knowing remembers by dothraki_shieldmaiden (14k) Post 15x04, a wonderful fic that plays with some meta topics in a clever way. Dean and Sam are happy - they have free will and they’ve won against Chuck, even if they suffered some big losses along the way (including Jack). But Dean can’t help but think he’s forgetting something...or rather, someone. Yet every time he thinks he remembers, the name and face of that someone slips from his mind.

weights on my ankles by dothraki_shieldmaiden (9k) Post-15x03 where Cas ends up going back to the Gas ‘n Sip and working with Nora after leaving the bunker. A bitter sweet divorce-arc AU and what I love the most is how it ends - not perfect, not tragic, just very real and believable.

15x18 and Post-canon fix-it fics:

Orbital Velocity Around a Celestial Body by LeverDrift (26k) - An angsty but lovely fix-it fic, one where it gets worse for a while before it gets better. Dean pulls Cas from the Empty, where he’d been living in a fantasy world with a dream!Dean who was giving him everything real!Dean is certain he can’t. Dean has to struggle with wondering if Cas would have been better off with dream!Dean instead of him. This is one that will break your heart before putting it back together again as Dean struggles with his self-worth issues.

so good at crashing in by Wintertree (36k) - Another post-finale fix-it where Cas is back, the world is saved, and things are still...not as easy as it should be for either Dean nor Cas. Monsters are gone, there’s no more hunting to be done, and Cas wants to move out of the bunker somewhere closer to Claire, to move on with a proper human life. Dean thinks he can move there with Cas and stay as “best friends”, even to the extent that Cas encourages him to go out and have sex with others/women. (And wants to hear about it after the fact!) But can Dean figure out what he really wants, and what Cas wants as well? A refreshingly unique take on what a post-series life could have looked like for them.

Delicious smut:

Empty by squirrelofcelestialintent (43k) - Every day this fandom makes me rethink my previous squicks and DNWs in fanfic. Here I find myself enjoying quite a bit more dom/sub elements than I normally ever would! I think because I was absolutely drawn in by the breathtaking first chapter, capturing beautifully the emotions of Cas returning from the Empty in Season 13 if he and Dean had confessed their feelings right then and there. But Dean’s self-worth is all fucked up, he feels there’s no way he can be good enough for Cas, especially when his sexual desires run a little bit...let’s just say outside the vanilla and he’s struggling with shame over doing sex work when he was younger. This was HOT and POOR SAM really gets stuck in the middle of, well, hearing more about his brother’s sex life than he ever needed to.

He's My Mate by Hatsonhamburgers (22k) - This fic manages the delightful combination of humor and extreme hotness perfectly. Dean and Cas catch each other in some questionable masturbation situations. This leads Cas to decide he needs to buy Dean some proper sex toys. He’s just helping his best friend out, right? Sure. As I said, hysterical AND hot as hell.

Generals by nanoochka (9k) - Cas/Dean, Cas/Balthazar/Dean, implied past-Cas/Balthazar. An old LJ fic I found on an ancient rec list that is just scorching hot and a brilliant character study of Cas and Dean. Balthazar decides to invite himself in when he catches Dean and Cas engaging in some frisky business, and it turns into a bit of a power-play between the two soldiers of Heaven. Cas gets DP’ed and it’s all...well. It’s fucking good, read it.

The One With The Preening by HolyFuckingHell (5.5k) Can I do a rec post without including some wing!kink/wing!grooming in it? No, I can’t. (I also really enjoyed some of the other fics in this author’s series including The One With Dean's Horny Movies).

A Single Point of Light by Destina (2.4k) - This is a gorgeous Cas/Dean/Benny Purgatory short! A delicious balance of the two each caring for and caring about Dean in their own, protective ways, definitely a delight for any fans of this threesome.

Short and sweet, fluff to angst:

Snugglebird by almaasi (5.3k) - So, so soft and sweet and snuggly, just like the title. Dean’s things are disappearing from the bunker...and so, suddenly, has Cas. What’s going on? I do love my nesting!Cas fics, so...yeah. If you need a smile this is a good one to read :)

And Cleanse Me From My Sin by thisisapaige (1.6k) - another one for my beloveds who also enjoy wing grooming and sweet Dean-taking-care-of-Cas fluff.

Needle and Thread by Misachan (4k) - Season 5 wing!fic hurt/comfort. Cas’s wings are badly injured, Dean doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, but he’s stitched up Sam and himself enough times. He can do this. If you love caretaker!Dean and vulnerable!Cas don’t overlook this little gem.

Deceptive Preludes by sp8ce (2.7k) - One of those stories that delves into some of the difficulties Cas might have after coming back from the Empty a second time, especially in regards to accepting what’s real or not, understanding Dean, and how both of their communication issues can add to their struggles. Painful but hopeful for the future, felt very believable as I read it.

#my fic recs #destiel recs #my destiel recs #ok that's it for right now #should be plenty to keep y'all busy for a bit

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thegoodomensdumpster · 5 years

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Because of that whole Heaven’s Dress Tartan post, and because of that scene where Crowley makes a jab at him for wearing a tartan collar when they switched bodies, imagine Crowley somehow managing to find the meaning behind Aziraphale’s tartan, and all the times Aziraphale has given him that specific tartan through the thermos, bike rack, and collar. And then it clicks for him, and he comes rushing to the bookshop with all the more love for his angel.

It happens when Aziraphale is in Edinburgh. You know, right after that rendez-vous during one of Shakespeare’s play? Yes, you know the one.So. The angel is there, filling up both his job and Crowley’s temptation, being quite busy, really, but still, busy as he is, he gets to take a closer look at life among scottish people. And he can’t help it, because people are always so interesting! He can’t help but talk with them. He gathered so many stories, and books, and memories that way. Just talking. Because, you know. Crowley isn’t always around. Also, he does need to talk to humans to make sure his jobs go along smoothly, so at least he can make the conversations pleasant by chosing interesting nice humans to talk to, right?

So. Aziraphale talks with people in Edinburgh and in the area, and he discovers a new way to look at tartan. He’s familiar with tartan, of course, why with Heaven having its own official tartan used in particular for their war attire.

Aziraphale has never been fond of that tartan. He never tried to articulate why (is it because he doesn’t like war of because he doesn’t like Heaven, or a bit of both...), but he knows he doesn’t like it. The aesthetic isn’t the problem, however, because, surprisingly, Aziraphale does think kilts are rather good looking. There was even a time period Crowley didn’t disagree with him (though the idea that his fashion sense seemed to align with Aziraphale’s for a moment did send some shivers down his spine).

But, right there, Aziraphale got to talk with some particularly interesting scottish fellows. Clan leaders or more humble members of a family -who didn’t need to be bound by blood, mind you-, all proudly wearing their tartan, all showing a sense of belonging, and a feeling of love, and the will to protect those wearing the same tartan they were wearing. Oh, of course, there were often warriors among the Scots, because of their old rivalry with their arch-enemies the Scots, but there was something else that Aziraphale discovered during these conversations. Tartan wasn’t just for fighting. Tartan was for showing whose side you were on. Tartan was a statement. And a stylish one.

In the following years, Aziraphale created his own tartan, and slowly but surely, his own personal pattern invaded his belongings. It became part of him, part of what made him feel at home, and, occasionnally, he would gift something with his tartan to Crowley. He never explained the meaning. Maybe he thought it was obvious. Maybe it was actually not that much of a conscious thing to him. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was foolishness. Maybe it was always a treat to see how Crowley’s face would twist when he was saying “tartan? really?” but would always accept the gift. But. Here is the thing. Crowley, well. He was an angel once. And it was a long time ago. So he knows Heaven has its own tartan. But he hasn’t really actively tried to remember what it looks like. Not a really good memory, when said tartan has been last seen worn by those who kicked you out of your own home.

So, to be entirely honest, at first Crowley thought it was rather distateful from Aziraphale to gift him things that had Heaven’s tartan slapped on them. He wouldn’t comment on the stylistic disaster the angel was making out of his own home and clothes, of course - actually, that’s a lie,he would occasionnally joke about it but never in a cruel way. And he thought, if that tartan ever approached him, he would make a scene. But the tartan did approach him. And he didn’t make a scene.

Either the angel was totally oblivious to what that tartan could actually mean to Crowley, or he had the foolish hope that this was a weird detour to help Crowley reach redemptation in the eyes of Heaven. Redemption through tartan! That did sound like Aziraphale, didn’t it?As hideous the concept and the actual pattern were, Crowley could never refuse the presents. Because they were gifts from Aziraphale, and he was genuine whenever he would offer one to Crowley. And even if he hadn’t been... a gift from Aziraphale is a gift from Aziraphale, and as such Crowley couldn’t refuse any of them.

There comes a day we all know about, when a demon finds his way to Heaven while an angel faces a trial in Hell. Crowley sees a few angels there. Some guards in the distance. “Here is that tartan again” he thinks briefly, even though something clicks in that moment, something that tells him in the back of his mind that the tartan isn’t right, but he cannot really spend too much time dwelling on that thought because, well, here is the Archangel Fucking Gabriel and he is telling him to die already.

Much later on, it clicks again. Crowley brings it up.

“Why are you still wearing Heaven’s tartan, Aziraphale? You don’t have to show your allegiance anymore.”

Aziraphale stares at him.

“I haven’t worn Heaven’s tartan in more than 6000 years. And I will never wear it again.”

“But then... What...” Crowley tries to confusely articulate while making a gesture towards the tartan bow tie, the tartan blanket on the couch, heck, even the kitchenette’s tablecoth is tartan!

That’s when it clicks. It’s not the same tartan. It’s another one. Crowley realizes it right as Aziraphale is about to spell it out for him.

“That’s my tartan, dear. Not Heaven’s. Mine.”

Aziraphale’s tartan. And he’s been gifting it to Crowley for who knows how long.

Could a heart change colors, Crowley thinks briefly that his might be the exact taint of that ugly pattern surrounding him.

#yo so #this wasn't a fic prompt but #it immediately make me get ideas and i thought it could be worth it #waiting to have a bit more free time to write it down #that's a lovely headcanon btw what was in that ask #oh also i'm very proud that i managed to insert a reference #to one of my favorite jokes hidden in the pages of good omens book #a cookie for you if you find out which line it is :D #good omens #my stuff #ficlet #Anonymous #ask

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

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What Might Have Been - 7

I’m now getting to the plot bits of my @goodomenscelebration fic, and felt it was appropriate to add a title and also start posting each chapter separately.

You can read the previous sections here. This section is CW for aftermath of some pretty heavy violence.

(I’m also posting to AO3, but it will likely take until this weekend to get my posting schedules synced...)

Alternate Universe

Aziraphale cut off his conversation with Crowley, not a moment too soon. The ground raced towards him and he snapped his wings open, almost too late, the wind resistance straining the bones and the feathers nearly to the breaking point.

The force of the wind propelled him back up, tumbling end over end, until, twisting and flapping, he finally managed to right himself and started drifting over the ruined land.

Great cracks rent the ground, flowing with lava or magma or some such term. In between, everything was dried to the point of petrification. It might almost have been some other world entirely, except now and then he recognized a valley – flooded or burned; a river – polluted beyond recognition; even a hill – bare of trees and grass. And not a living creature to be seen.

It smelled of sulfur, and brimstone, and lightning, and death.

He glanced up, but the hole in the sky was gone. At first, he thought it had closed, trapping him in this mad landscape forever. But no. He’d drifted, and without a familiar point of reference, he didn’t know how he could find his way back.

Wheeling, he spotted the coast, the tall buildings of Brighton coming quickly towards him. He could see it in his mind now; the little brick-faced townhouses of the outer towns, with fields and parks weaving throughout; the steel buildings, rearing to the sky; holiday-makers lying along the beaches or gathered on the pier. It was too early, really, for sea bathing, but the weather had been warm and humans could be determined.

Had been nice. Now the sky was the color of an old bruise and the clouds stretched uninterrupted from horizon to horizon. And the city itself…

He flew down the flooded main roads, past townhouses and shops flooded to their first-floor balconies. The church in its little park had been torn to pieces, the telltale burn marks of lightning and worse on the few stones standing above the waters. A few larger lorries were just visible as well, and the streetlights, most snapped in half like toothpicks.

The tallest buildings had been shattered, pieces broken off and dropped onto the homes and shops below. He circled one, apartments, hoping the unbroken windows would show some sign of habitation – no luck. There were few of those, and the rooms behind them looked abandoned.

Even the pier was gone, the top of the rollercoaster still just visible, one car eternally suspended on the highest hairpin curve.

Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound.

Aziraphale landed on the top of the Grand Brighton Hotel, where he and Crowley had come for lunch just the week before. Far too many oysters, followed by spicy beef, and fresh Halibut, truffled mash and the marvelous chocolate peanut butter cake. They’d laughed over the idea of getting a room, only a few miles from home, just for the novelty, the sea breeze, the fun of playing tourist.

Now that same sea breeze ripped through Aziraphale’s feathers, flapping his coat behind him. He could see some sort of storm brewing in the distance, towards France, lightning flashing almost continuously. The corner tower had been sliced clean through, too neatly for any human tools. The Metropole next door had fared little better, brick face cracked and crumbling, the “We Love Brighton” across the roof unreadable.

Easing himself over the edge, Aziraphale drifted through the hole in the face of the Grand Brighton, inspecting one of the rooms. Nearly all the furniture was gone – white carpet black with mold, bed little more than a tangle of once-luxurious sheets beside rotten wood that had once been a headboard. The walls had been burned, too, then submerged, then burned again when the waters receded.

He passed through the room slowly, folding his wings back out of reality. Only as he passed the remains of the bed did he realize there was something solid in amongst the fabric. He folded it back to find…it had once been a person, huddled deep in a leather jacket that would have been too big even before decay set in, bloated face leaving no discernable features. Aziraphale placed a hand on the shriveled arm, as if to feel for a pulse, but of course there was none – the body was cold.

He shifted the human anyway, to lie in something like repose, and pulled the sheets back over the face.

How many more were there? In a city of half a million people, how many survived?

The lightning flashed out at sea, again, again, catching his eye as it grew brighter, closer. It looked familiar, somehow, or nearly so. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it filled Aziraphale with a fear he hadn’t felt in years.

He watched the roiling mass of light and dark approach, enveloping everything in its way.

It couldn’t be lightning, he realized. The light was too continuous, too many places at once, never actually going out, just darting from cloud to cloud. Now and again two blasts struck each other, and one might fall into the sea or rise into the sky.

Dark shapes fluttered between the lightning, like birds. Only too large, he realized as the storm finally devoured the pier, bearing now on him. Much too large…

The first angel darted past, flaming sword in hand, golden ichor dripping from wounds. “Retreat!” they called, wings beating a frantic tempo. “Retreat!”

Then more, hundreds, thousands, hosts greater than any Aziraphale had seen assembled since the Fall, so very, very long ago. They screamed, to intimidate, to show fear, it mattered not, the sound was constant. And hot on their heels, riding hellhounds and wielding glowing balls of Hellfire…

An angel crashed to the floor in front of Aziraphale, jacket torn to shreds, kilt soaked with enough ichor to completely obscure her platoon’s tartan. Some of it was hers, pouring from a wound that cut through one wing – white feathers tipped with gold – and across her shoulder, deep and nasty. A human would have lost all consciousness long ago.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, bending over, stretching out fingers to inspect the damage.

She leapt to her feet, sword cutting a wide arc that sliced through the wall as if it were an illusion, blade halting just before Aziraphale’s nose. “What are you doing here?” She demanded.

“I suppose I could ask you the same,” he began.

“Why aren’t you in uniform? Where is your sword? Identify yourself!”

“I – I – I – I’m Aziraphale!” he managed, stumbling a few steps back. “Principality of Earth, Guardian of the Eastern Gate.”

“Nice try, deserter,” she snapped, grabbing him by the waistcoat. “If you’re going to give a false name, next time try one that isn’t known to every angel, human and demon in the world.”

“Wh…what?” he managed.

A blast of horns – the war cry of Heaven – shook the city, trembling the floor beneath their feet. Suddenly, the armies moved the other direction, pale shapes of angels flashing out to sea, while the dark demons retreated, lobbing Hellfire over their shoulders. Where each blistering ball struck, all was destroyed – buildings, streetlights, angels.

“Find the Beast!” someone shouted. “He has fled the battlefield! Find him!”

“What’s going on?” Aziraphale demanded, ignoring the blade in front of him to stare as an angel and demon, locked in combat, careened into the Metropole, blasting a hole straight through to the other side. “What beast? Why are they fighting?”

“What do you mean ‘what beast?’ The Beast. Their leader.” At his blank stare, she rolled silver eyes. “Who else would lead the army of the demons in the final days? The Antichrist.”

#good omens #good omens prime #good omens fanfiction #good omens celebration #goc2020 #angst #good omens angst #lots of angst #brighton #aziraphale #alternate universe #things are not good #angels and demons #My writing #What Might Have Been

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occult-castiel · 5 years

Text

Reversed Omens

Pretty much a proof of concept from this post. Also on ao3 cause why not

Heavenly Demons and Damned Angels

He was Falling.

It was a simple order, Aziraphale supposed.

“Just go be a leader. Confident.”

Angels in kilts lined the white halls of Heaven. It was always pristine. A sterile, perfect white. The most interesting thing about Heaven, he found out later, was that it really didn’t smell like anything. The second most was how there was a permanent coolness in the air. Enough to make a person just uncomfortable enough to notice. He always had goosebumps.

Everyone was in a tight line, shoulder to shoulder, kilts brushed together. Their chests bulged so far they almost seemed deformed, an unnatural curve. Rigid arms were lifted to their foreheads, a perfect, angular salute. Statues.

Aziraphale couldn't help but notice the burning anger in their eyes. The clicks of his heels reverberated in silence as he walked past dozens upon dozens of waiting soldiers.

Lucifer- Satan now- had gone against the Almighty Herself, and brought down a third of the angels with him. He’d seen them, some of them, Fall.

It started with a question, a slight attitude. And then their eyes would widen. Some dropped to the ground, a few clutched their chests as they stared into space. Some sobbed. And then the fire would come. He swallowed.

“Aziraphale!”

A man with a twisted, brown mustache yelled at him a few paces ahead. A row of stars adorned his white, militarist jacket. Not a single soldier flinched at the noise. Aziraphale fidgeted with his pinky ring.

“Yes?” he called out.

“Your platoon is waiting for you!” The man snapped, and a sword appeared in his hand. He shoved it towards him. “You’ll be on the front lines.”

He took the sword, and it lit, flames consumed its crystal-like blade. “The fire. It’ll hurt them, the demons.”

Demons. The ones born in fire. Fire and tears- “I-I don’t think that's the case.”

His eyes widened, “Is that dissent, soldier?”

He tried to smile, but looked at the floor. “No.”

“Good-”

“But,” a glare, “Our-our siblings, they’re born in fire, are they not?”

He was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and yanked to the man's face. “They are not our siblings. They’re the enemy.”

He could feel ten thousand eyes on him, staring at his back. All of them ready to fight.

But Aziraphale.

Aziraphale had seen them cry. He saw angels go from having a bad day, maybe saying something not exactly tasteful, to having the worst possible day imaginable.

Angels weren’t meant to crumble and sob. And the fire. He could see the orange and red fury of flames dance out of the corner of his eye, as the General held him in place, examined him.

He was expected to burn them again.

“I-can’t- can't someone else, lead them?” He tried to swallow again, but it wouldn't go down. “Someone more qu-qualified?”

He heard the clanks of the sword as it hit the ground before he realised he fell too.

It was like his blood was replaced with a liquified, concentrated panic. His breath quickened. All the whites meshed into one, singular blur as he looked from side to side.

He could feel his skin prickle. The goosebumps that littered his skin moments before multiplied. They pulled. Twisted. And then, then they burned. It was a slow and fast transition all at once. Each little craves between warmed first. Hotter, hotter, hotter.

He didn't hear himself scream, but he felt the hoarseness. His skin popped and crackled, busted open into flame.

All he could see was red.

He felt his wings erupt open. The fire jumped to them, and his back snapped backwards.

And then he was falling.

The solid ground had dissipated.

And he was Falling. There was an emptiness that spread from his chest and consumed

Everything was dark and red and seemed to go on for an eternity, or an instant.

He passed out before the lake of burning sulfur consumed him.

---

God's green garden was the most radiant shade of green imaginable. The plants were perfect- crisp, spotless leaves. Each tree and bush was artistically spread. Nothing was too close to anything else. There were no uneven sides. Hints of color were dotted around in a way that made everything feel like it had a place, a purpose.

Anthony, Angel of the Eastern Gate, frowned. It was all… Boring.

He’d been stationed here for over two weeks. The flaming sword he’d been assigned hadn't left the spot on the wall he’d leaned it against. Nothing happened, nothing changed. Paradise.

“Go and look after the Almighty Human creations. Ensure no trouble comes.”

He’d agreed easily enough, the thought of actually seeing trouble was alluring. It seemed he missed a whole rebellion due to a particularly long nap, and was quite confused when he woke up. Briefly thought he managed to sleep all the way up to the holidays, with all the missing angels.

Not that he wanted to fight, but. Well. It would've been at least a little interesting, see what was happening.

Instead of walking around the same wall again and again and again. It was punishment, he supposed. All the other artists were still crafting the wonders of the Earth. Which was fair, sleeping for two weeks straight had been a little excessive.

But still, the wall was exactly 3,879 paces around. Which he’d counted. Several dozen times.

A soft yelp below caught his attention. He peered over the edge of the wall, and saw someone that definitely was not one of the humans.

He was plump, and blond hair was a ball of short, blond twists. The edges were frayed. A black tunic hung like a satin blanket around his pale skin. The contrast made him smile.

“Hey! You down there!”

The man jumped, his head flicked up and he squinted at him. “Uh, yes?”

“What’re you doing down there?” he called out.

He gave a response, but Anthony couldn’t really make it out.

“What?”

The man repeated it, to no avail.

“Alright, alright look. I need you,” he pointed down, and motioned back upwards, “to come up here.”

He watched the blond man struggle to climb the wide of the wall for a few moments before sighing, and snapped.

The stranger materialized next to him, and instantly fell on the floor. He looked up and smiled, “Oh-oh thank you,” he stood himself up. “That would've been dreadful, to go up the whole thing.”

His eyes were like pools of plasma. Swirling streams of blue that engulfed his iris. The pupil, while circular, was more of a deep indigo than a true black. He’d made stars that looked like them, in a way. His wings were as dark as the depths of creation itself, the endless void they’d painted with spirals and nebulas.

They were like crow's wings. A very newly named animal. Cunning creatures, ones he could respect

“So, you’re a demon, hm?” His head tilted to the side as he examined him, from his feet to the crown of his head.

He sighed, “I’m afraid so. Aziraphale.”

“That’s an angelic name.”

Aziraphale looked like he was punched. ‘Well, I missed the renaming ceremony since I was a, uh, late arrival.”

“Well, that's unfortunate.” And he did, suppose, it was. A permanent reminder of something lost. “Could change it anyway.”

And that was a thought. The freedom to choose one's name. An identity crafted by yourself. A crow flew past them.

“Oh no, I quite like my given name.”

He chuckled. “Very demonic of you.”

The demon fidgeted with his tunic, and seemed to find the floor quite interesting. “Lord Beelzebub wasn't too pleased.”

He hummed as he watched the birds fly over distant trees. “Well, if a demons keeping his name, I suppose I could change mine. If I wanted, hm?”

“Oh, I’m not sure if that’s the best idea-”

“Oh I’m sure fallen angels know all about great ideas,” he stuck his hand out, “I think I’ll go with Crowley.”

Aziraphale returned the gesture and they shook. His nails were as black as his wings. “Crows,” he made the connection instantly. “Clever creatures, those one’s.”

“So what brings you to Eden, demon?”

He let out a long breath, shoulders slumped. “I’m supposed to be causing trouble, but I haven’t the slightest idea how to do that. Very,” he searched for a word, “vague. I think Lord Beelzebub sent me here to get me away from them, really.”

“I can relate to that one. Punishment and nonsense orders.” He motioned towards the garden, and then leaned towards him. “I'm only here because I slept through the rebellion. And then I'm given some silly order to protect this place-” he stopped, and snapped his gaze to Aziraphale. “And what's with this apple business?”

“Oh, I wouldn't know,” he shrugged, “No briefings in Hell it seems.”

“You know what I think,” He looked back to the greenery, “None of this makes any sense. If the Almighty’s so concerned with some fruit, why not put it on the moon?”

Aziraphale instantly glares at him, “That's- That’s borderline blasphemy! Are you trying to Fall?”

His eyebrows shot up, “And why would that concern you, hm? Shouldn’t you want more soldiers down there?”

“What I want is to never have to go back to that dreary place,” his nose scrunched as he scowled, “Hell desperately needs new plumping.” He motioned to his body, “And color pallet.”

He was- he was pouting. Was this seriously the dastardly enemy he’d been warned about?

Crowley cackled, laughter shook his whole body. “You,” he gave an airy laugh, “You know. Heaven, while clean, is rather dull too.”

“At least they have manners upstairs.”

He laughed again before he spoke. “You know,” he let the words drag out, “I bet they’d leave you alone for quite some time if you got the humans to eat that apple.” He put his hands in the air. “Not that I’m telling you to do that, of course.”

The demon just stared at him, and quite bewildered, said, “Are you sure you’re an angel?”

“Hey- I’m the one with the white wings here.”

Aziraphale's eyes trailed their way to the middle of the forest. Looking at the tree, perhaps. He bit his lip for a moment. “I do think you might be right about that.”

“Plus, the almighty can't be too mad. She did put a pretty big neon sign on the blasted thing.”

Soon enough, Aziraphale had slipped away, and stumbled down the wall. Off to do thing Crowley assumed he was meant to thwart, but he really did want some sort of change to happen. And if head office asked, he’d just spin some story about how he thought they meant dangers outside the walls.

By the end of the week, humanity had been banished, and Crowley was demoted down to a principality.

“Go and watch over the humans, and this time actually do some thwarting, Anthony.”

He thought of the odd demon, and how he was probably tasked something similar and smiled.

“Of course Gabriel. My pleasure.”

This could be fun

#ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands fic #good omens #i did not proof read or really edit this #impulsive writings

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percussiongirl2017 · 5 years

Text

Review of SFTB Products

This is a complete review of all of the scents I have from @scentsfromthebunker. I will have a separate list for the Marvel scents. I was going to link all of these, but it would crash the Tumblr post and break the links. Just go to the SFTB blog and follow the link in her bio! I’m going to put this under the cut because it’s super long.

1. AKF- Water, Witch Hazel, Lavender, Chamomile ~This was the very first scent I bought from SFTB and I think it’s the only one that’s still mostly full. I mainly use it when I’m having a really bad day. It’s not too strong and it’s perfect when you just want to relax.~

2. Angel Grace- Spearmint, Water, Witch Hazel ~Angel Grace is one of my all time favorites. I wear it to work a lot and it makes everyone think I have gum. I occasionally mix it with Jack and the perfect combination. It definitely puts me in a better mood.~

3. Baby- Water, Witch Hazel, Leather, Cinnamon, Coffee, Vanilla, White Lily, Sandalwood, Musk ~There are 3 bottles of Baby in my house currently. One of them is mine and the other two belong to my brother. He has to test all of the scents I buy because he’s nosy. He fell in love with Baby and instantly asked for 2 for Christmas. I think he keeps one in his truck and his friends can’t figure out why his truck smells so nice.~

4. Billie- Water, Witch Hazel, Cranberry, Vanilla, Lemon ~ I can’t even describe how amazing Billie smells. I love the smell of lemon because it makes me think of things that are clean. Billie reminds me of drinking lemonade in a graveyard, if that make any sense.~

5. Castiel- Cinnamon, Caramel, Sandalwood ~Cas smells safe. The cinnamon gives it a slight spice smell, but it’s balanced out enough that you want to smell more. It’s like a long hug after a bad day. It’s like being wrapped in his trenchcoat and falling asleep in the Impala.~

6. Captivated- Sandalwood, Vanilla, Cinnamon, Clove, Cedar, Amber ~Okay this one almost caused a fight in my house. This one has all of my Mom’s favorite scents so she was really excited when I opened it. I have to order another one so she doesn’t steal mine. It’s almost intoxicating how great this one smells.~

7. Charlie- Water, Witch Hazel, Rose, Orange, Strawberry, Musk, Coconut ~ I love the strawberry and rose combination in Charlie. It makes me think of sunshine and summertime. Charlie just smells happy. Like you wanna put your headphones on and dance around the house kind of happy.~

8. Chuck- Wintergreen, Vanilla, Tobacco, Frangipani ~We all want to smell like God. This one also passed my brother’s approval so he wants one for his birthday. I normally don’t like the tobacco smell, but this one is an exception. It’s balanced just right with the other oils.~

9. Claire- Rose, Apple, Jasmine ~ Claire’s scent is interesting to me. The rose and apple mix well together and the jasmine is just pronounced enough for you to smell. It’s really nice and smells amazing.~

10. Crowley- Water, Witch Hazel, Cinnamon, Apple, Vanilla, Tobacco ~ Like Chuck, I don't normally like the tobacco smell, but this one blends well with the cinnamon and vanilla. It smells like apple pie at a bonfire. I really really like Crowley.~

11. Dean- Water, Witch Hazel, Vanilla, Cinnamon, White Lily, Clove ~AMAZING! I love vanilla and cinnamon so getting Dean was a must. I wear Dean (or Sam) when I know the corporate office is going to be at work. I need a Winchester to have my back.~

12. Demon! Dean- Vanilla, Cinnamon, Orange, Eucalyptus, White Lily ~So take Dean and imagine a darker scent. To me, the cinnamon is a little more pronounced in this one. It’s definitely one I like wearing when I’m writing angst.~

13. Donna- Water, Witch Hazel, Rose, Musk, Lily, Strawberry, Pear, Pineapple ~ A fruit salad with a shot of whiskey. That is the best way I can describe Donna. It has the musk scent, but it’s not super heavy. The rose and lily balance it out nicely. It’s like the perfect balance of happy and determined.~

14. Eileen- Hydrangea, Musk ~ Eileen smells like a walk in the garden. I can’t help but smile when I spray Eileen. I also like to pair Eileen with Sam because they balance each other out.~

15. Gabriel- Water, Witch Hazel, Orange, Clove, Cinnamon, Vanilla, Gardenia, Musk ~ I love the orange and vanilla scent of Gabriel. It makes me think of baking with my Dad. It’s like spending all day baking and then going outside and sitting on the porch.~

16. Heaven- Gardenia, Magnolia ~Heaven reminds me of fresh laundry hanging on the line. It’s a spring morning in a hammock with a good book. It’s relaxing.~

17. Hell- Orange, Cinnamon ~ Hell smells amazing. If Hell really smells like this then sign me up! The scent lasts for hours and it goes great with Sam or Dean.~

18. Jack- Peppermint, Vanilla ~Oh my gosh, this precious nougat child smells amazing. It reminds me of Christmas and I wear it with Angel Grace. I like wearing it when writing fluff because it just puts you in a good mood.~

19. Jamie- Sandalwood, Rose, Vanilla, Pine ~Kilts. I swear to Chuck that’s all I think of when I wear Jamie. I need to watch Outlander so I can get the full experience. I like the outdoorsy scent and I use it around the house a lot.~

20. Jared’s Empathy- Vanilla, Sandalwood, Pear, Pineapple, Musk, Rose, Lily, Cinnamon ~Look, I’ve met Jared, I’ve hugged Jared, and I’ve almost passed out in front of Jared. I swear this is very close to what Jared smells like. I’m currently out of Jared and I need to send my bottle back. I used to wear Jared to work, but I think I ran out during the Black Friday/Thanksgiving/Christmas rush at work. It kept me calm during all that craziness.~

21. Jensen’s Warmth- Vanilla, Cinnamon, White Lily, Rose, Coffee ~So, (as weird as it sounds) Jensen feels safe to me. I was terrified of him at Nashcon last year, but he just has this warmth about him that feels safe. I wear Jensen when I’m feeling overwhelmed. I’m a little low on Jensen because I shared him with my manager at work.~

22. Jody- Gardenia, Cinnamon ~Jody is such a Mom scent in my opinion. Like when you have those days where you just need to go to your Mom. It’s a protective and nurturing scent that makes you feel good.~

23. John- Water, Witch Hazel, Sandalwood, Musk, Cinnamon, Vanilla, Patchouli ~The sandalwood, musk, and cinnamon combination is freaking amazing. The vanilla and patchouli balance it out perfectly. It’s almost like Dean, but it has more of a aged smell to it. It reminds me of leather jackets for some reason.~

24. Love Yourself First- Ylang Ylang ~ I love using this one with my AKF and YANA scents. It’s perfect when I’ve had a rough day at work or school. Plus it helps me sleep at night.~

25. Lucifer- Apple, Orange, Lemon, Cinnamon, Eucalyptus, Vanilla ~ Lucifer makes me think of cookies for some reason. Like spiced snickerdoodle cookies. That probably sounds weird, but I really like Lucifer.~

26. Lucifer!Sam- Amber, Vanilla, Cinnamon, Apple, Sandalwood, Clove ~Lucifer!Sam gives off a warm and almost protective vibe to me. I’ve started wearing it to work and it lasts my whole 9 hour shift. I am in love with Lucifer!Sam~

27. Mary- Jasmine, Rose, Honeysuckle ~ Mary is another one that reminds me of spring and fresh laundry. Mary makes me wanna curl up with a good book and just relax. I love honeysuckle and it just makes this scent perfect.~

28. Meg- Water Witch Hazel, Violet, Lavender, Chamomile, Cinnamon ~One of my all time favorites. I use Meg around the house because of the lavender scent. It’s one of my Mom’s favorite and I also use it in my room when I’m doing homework.~

29. Michael!Dean- Cinnamon, Vanilla, White Lily, Sweet Tobacco, Musk ~ It’s exactly how I imagined he would smell. It’s like Dean but with more mystery behind him. I currently use this one at work and I share it with one of the girls in electronics. It helps on stressful days when customers are yelling at me.~

30. Misha’s Kindness- Coconut, Vanilla, Gardenia, Cinnamon ~Misha never fails to make me smile and that’s why I really like this scent. It always puts me in a good mood especially after a bad day at work. I sprayed one of my shirts with it before throwing it in the dryer and it smelled like Misha all day.~

31. Negan- Amber, Cinnamon, Sandalwood, Patchouli ~ Kicking butt and taking names! Negan smells like determination and gives off an air of authority. The cinnamon gives it just enough spice to make you wanna come back for more.~

32. Pie- Apple, Cinnamon, Vanilla ~Smells good enough to eat! I love wearing Pie with Dean or Demon!Dean. It’s sweet, but not overpowering.~

33. Purgatory- Orange, Cedar ~ This one reminds me of the forest and the orange lightens the scent some. It’s like going down a walking trial and coming into a clearing. It smells wonderful and amazing.~

34. Rowena- Water, Witch Hazel, Raspberry, Rose, Orange, Musk, Coconut, Patchouli ~ I forgot how much I loved the smell of Rowena. It almost reminds me of raspberry tea. It’s light and fruity and I really like it.~

35. Ruby- Water, Witch Hazel, Rose, Musk, Orange, Coconut, Violet, Patchouli, Vanilla ~ Ruby is one of my newest additions and I am in love with it! This is literally how I imagined Ruby would smell. It’s a darker smell, but the orange gives it a kick. The rose and violet are subtle, but not overpowering. It’s just freaking amazing and I can’t wait to use it more.~

36. Sam- Water, Witch Hazel, Vanilla, Sandalwood, Coffee ~My Sam bottle is almost empty! It’s great to use when I’m studying and I can’t focus. I also use it on my pillow and I sleep so much better. The coffee scent is great for when I going to work and I’m still tired. Everyone at work really likes Sam.~

37. Soulless!Sam- Vanilla, Cinnamon, Orange, Coconut, Patchouli ~ This is honestly how I imagined Soulless!Sam would smell. It’s like spicy Sam honestly. It’s amazing. I wore this one a lot last semester because I had to deal with some difficult people in class. I occasionally mixed this one with Demon!Dean and it’s really nice.~

38. Wayward Sisters- Azalea, Apple, Jasmine, Musk ~ This one smells wonderful. I love the mix of jasmine and musk. The azalea is just enough not to be overpowering. The apple adds a sweet scent. It’s just amazing.~

39. Winchester Bros- Vanilla, Sandalwood, Musk, Cinnamon, White Lily, Rose ~Take Sam and Dean and travel with them in the Impala for a few days. It’s borrowing a flannel and you’re not sure which brother it belongs to. It’s falling asleep in the Impala and one of the boys carrying you into the Bunker. It smells like Winchester and I love it so much.~

40. You Are Not Alone- Orange, Rose ~ I love the smell of orange, okay? The rose scent tones down the orange and gives it a more floral scent. I like wearing this one with Jared or Jensen. It’s perfect to wear after a stressful day at work.~

Go and show @scentsfromthebunker some love! I’ll have a Marvel review up soon!

#scents from the bunker #product review

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sous-le-saule · 6 years

Text

2017 Fic in Review

I was tagged by @lvslie and @maniacalmole

Thank you!

total number of completed stories: 9 in 2017 (plus some tiny pieces posted on tumblr and some chapters added to Compétition)

total word count: about 40k

fandoms written in: Good Omens

looking back, did you expect to write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected?

I expected to write more. I have lots of ideas waiting for more time. But I also have a family and a job, so... Plus I write very slowly.

what’s your own favorite story of the year?

Abattre le mur / Three little words

It’s hard to say “I love you”, and even harder to believe that someone loves you. Crowley was the perfect character regarding this issue.

Luna and I, we did the writing and the translation at the same time, and she helped me a lot. It was very interesting.

But my fave is always 12 days, and since Luna’s beautiful translation was posted in 2017, I cheat shamelessly and I mention it again ;)

did you take any writing risks this year?

Dear, each single sentence I try to write in English is a huge risk lol.

But I had to, bc I can’t write porn in French (I’d really like to try, though) and I wrote my first two E-rated fics in 2017 (In Awkward Positions - aka “the yoga fic” - and The Kilt), which counts for something in terms of risk, I’d say.

do you have any fanfic or profit goals for the new year?

Plenty of ideas, and a strong will to improve.

best story of the year?

I’m tempted to say Abattre le mur / Three little words again, but it’s not for me to say.

most popular story of the year?

In Awkward Positions

Does it mean ppl prefer porn? Surprising...

story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion:

In 2017, L’Amour qui n’ose pas dire son nom, undoubtedly.

Aziraphale/Oscar Wilde (with a lot of Crowley nonetheless)! C’mon, people, I’m sure you can read French! :D

most fun story to write:

Compétition is always fun (and easy) to write. Last year, I wrote two stand-alone chapters about Crowley and Aziraphale watching the Eurovision song contest and going to Ikea together. Purely recreational writing!

story with the single sexiest moment:

I wrote no sexy moment except in my pwp so In Awkward Positions again.

After all, half of the fic isn’t sex. On second thought, is it a pwp then? But I can hardly say there’s a plot lol.

most sweet story:

I wrote Sweet Dreams, Angel in 2016 for the gohe but I posted it in 2017 on ao3 so let’s say it counts.

“holy crap, thats wrong, even for you!” story:

I’m not sure how to interpret this category, but I spontaneously think about my fic for the gohe, Limelight Revelations. It was obviously a mistake and I spent way too much time on it.

story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters & most unintentionally telling story:

It’s hard not to be redundant when one wrote only 9 fics. I could easily say Abattre le mur / Three little words again but it wasn’t unintentional. For a change, Libre arbitre (that could compete for the most under-appreciated story too, with 4 kudos lol), bc the story came from the feeling I had a long time ago, when visiting a French village (Oradour-sur-Glane) whose inhabitants had been massacred by SS soldiers. That feeling was still vivid when I wrote the fic and I think it shows. And it made me consider the responsibility of being an angel or a demon forced to obey orders.

hardest story to write:

Emotionally, Abattre le mur / Three little words, without hesitation. Too personal issues and a lot of doubts when writing. In short, I cried the whole time lol.

Linguistically, Limelight Revelations. The longest piece I ever wrote in English (15k words) and I’m so bad at it that it took me two months.

biggest disappointment:

Two years of reading fics in English and I’m still unable to write it properly. I’m not even talking about style. Just correct sentences. I’m ashamed.

biggest surprise:

That I wrote porn That my series One step at a time was also translated into Japanese. And that @lunasong365 translated 12 jours. It was such an amazing gift and I’m still deeply moved by it.

(I tag @improbabledreams900 @butterfliesandresistance and @staubengel if they want to do this)

#2017 fics #My writing

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buggeredson · 5 years

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🌠 - Would your muse make a wish on a star? If so, what would they wish for?

Thought-Provoking Headcanon Meme

“I make it a point not to indulge in idle wishing. We all know what happened the last time I did...”

“...don’t we?”

Alright, time to break this bad boy in and start (re-)posting headcanons, huzzah! :D

One of those headcanons that I hold so strongly to that not even canon can pry it out of my cold, dead hands is that Crowley’s Deal--the very infamous sold my soul for two more inches below the kilt bit--really is real, but is never presented as it actually happened. Since Gavin’s mother (to the point at which I fell off the band wagon) was never introduced or explained, but his abuse at the hands of his father WAS, I made the executive decision to say Fergus MacLeod’s wife died when Gavin was young. The grief of her loss combined with the stress of being a single father at the time, and a poor tradesman (a tailor, I like to think) at that drove Fergus deep into the bottle, where one night--drunk and pissed at the world--he ran into a clever little demonness in need of a quick sale. She was flirtatious, offered him anything his heart desired for a kiss - and inebriated, frustrated, disbelieving, thinking back on his mother “the witch” and how he never truly believed in anything Rowena told him after she abandoned him, he spitefully (sarcastically) bargained for a bigger willy.Careful what you wish for, ah?

This scenario explains to me both why a man would make such an apparently ridiculous bargain--something I had always struggled with--but now, looking back on the show, helps to elaborate on Crowley’s steadfast position on both explaining the terms of the deal, being more or less honest about them, and seeing them through in good faith. He got screwed by a shoddy business practice; he could--and did!--do much better.

...with all that explained, let’s move to the real question at hand.

I think, as a young boy, Fergus did a lot of wishing on stars: when he was young, for his mother to come back for him. After years of that, probably for a better life, better prospects, a way out of his small Scottish village. After that...he stopped wishing. He started making his own fortunes. Wishing had never worked out for him in the slightest in the past, and he was a relative realist as an adult.Crowley doesn’t make wishes any more. He sees them as almost inferior versions of deals. He prefers to say he makes wishes come true--for a price. A kiss and a tickle, and a little something you’ll never need but can keep for a ten more years, if you like.

#;;clever as the devil (hc: trivial)#;;the devil's in the details (hc: important)#outofhell #Anonymous

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evilasiangenius · 2 years

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Crowley tensed without meaning to and then was dismayed, feeling Asmodeus’ arm tighten around her.

With his free hand Asmodeus caught her by her chin, forcing her head up to meet his eyes.

“You can’t really lie to me, my darling, no matter how much you might try. I know you, you’re too loyal for that, aren’t you? You lie as a matter of course, for propriety’s sake, and I would expect no less from you. After all, we are demons. But I know you can’t lie to me.”

“Well, you know me. Propriety and all that,” Crowley chuckled weakly, feeling the words false upon her lips, and she kept her eyes on his brilliant green eyes, breathing evenly even as her heart thudded in her chest, hoping to keep her emotions off her face as he scrutinized her expressions.

“So what is it, my darling? Desperate for a snack? Worried about a child? Or is it...an angel.”

Cowley looked away.

“Why don’t you tell me something about your counterpart then?” Asmodeus’ breath was hot against her ear. “You must have picked up some useful information about him. It’s been a long time since you first met him, hasn’t it? I know he’s been skulking around you for centuries. It’s not anywhere near as long as we’ve known each other, but it must have been long enough for you to have learnt some things. Particularly since you seem cozy enough with him to seek him out.”

Trembling, Crowley gently tried to extricate herself from his arms, afraid that Asmodeus would notice as if he didn’t already notice.

“Tell me, Crowley. Tell me about Aziraphale.”

And at the name, a shock passed through Crowley and she felt as though she were about to jump out of her own skin. She had forgotten that Asmodeus knew Aziraphale’s name.

“The...the Representative. The opposition’s representative. Named Aziraphale. A Principality, formerly a Cherubim.”

“Yes, I know all of that already.”

“Angel of the Eastern Gate. Erm…” And Crowley paused. All the things that she could think of about Aziraphale seemed so trivial and far too personal. How Aziraphale loved food, especially fruit but over time as human cooking grew more and more complex, that had shifted toward sweets like honey cakes. That fond look of exasperation that he would give her sometimes when his patience was being tested. Aziraphale’s fussiness over his clothes, whether it was a feathery tufted kaunakes back in Mesopotamia or a shendyt kilt from Egypt or that very conservative but elegant blue-bordered chiton that he used to wear back in Athens. The comforting heat of his arms as he-

“Well, what else?”

“Uh, gullible. Yes, rather. Rather gullible. Far too honest for his own good. And responsible too. Very loyal to Heaven...”

“Darling, you aren’t telling me anything I don’t already know about angels.” Asmodeus smiled, though from experience Crowley knew that this was an empty expression, devoid of genuine emotion, a way of covering up the Prince of Hell’s impatience with the thinnest veneer of charm. “Tell me something specific about this one.”

“Erm...uh. I suppose. Well, let me think. Ah, I might have noticed that this one has a taste for sweets?” Crowley faltered, all the while thinking of how Aziraphale’s eyes sometimes changed colors depending on the light and the season and what he was wearing or what he was feeling, and sometimes that hue could be almost as golden as his own eyes when Aziraphale was in a particularly riotous mood, and often it was such a deep rich brown that it made Crowley a little weak at the knees and even more rare was when his eyes looked like the muddy blue-green-brown of the Earth as seen from far away in the rich velvet darkness of space, precious gems that shimmered in the evening light when the sky itself was tinted gently pink and lavender. “L-look, I don’t really know that much, all right? I don’t...don’t keep that close of an eye on, on the other side’s representative. I just...I don’t know, I don’t really pay that much attention to personal preferences and such, just working on my, my project as best I can given the circumstances...”

#crowley #aziraphale #good omens #good omens fanfiction #femme crowley #genderfluid crowley #asmodeus #ineffable husbands #mistakes were made #https://archiveofourown.org/works/30907580/chapters/80320648

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evilasiangenius · 3 years

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“Why don’t you tell me something about your counterpart then?” Asmodeus’ breath was hot against Crowley’s ear. “You must have picked up some useful information about him. It’s been a long time since you first met him, hasn’t it? I know he’s been skulking around you for centuries. It’s not anywhere near as long as we’ve known each other, but it must have been long enough for you to have learnt some things. Particularly since you seem cozy enough with him to seek him out.”

Trembling, Crowley gently tried to extricate herself from his arms, afraid that Asmodeus would notice as if he didn’t already notice.

“Tell me, Crowley. Tell me about Aziraphale.”

And at the name, a shock passed through Crowley and she felt as though she were about to jump out of her own skin. She had forgotten that Asmodeus knew Aziraphale’s name.

“The...the Representative. The opposition’s representative. Named Aziraphale. A Principality, formerly a Cherubim.”

“Yes, I know all of that already.”

#crowley #aziraphale #good omens #ineffable husbands #asmodeus #mistakes were made #the alexander romance #https://archiveofourown.org/works/30907580/chapters/80320648

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

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What Might Have Been - 11

(From my ongoing fic using @goodomenscelebration‘s theme prompts. This one is a bit lighter, but the next few will bring the angst again.)

Masterlist of previous parts here.

Old-Fashioned

Aziraphale stared at the sleeping angel. He’d never even asked her name. It hadn’t mattered, really.

He hated how callous that sounded. That was what Heaven had always wanted him to be, for six thousand years. Callous, disinterested, distanced from the beings who surrounded him, tending to them without caring, like a farmer preparing animals for slaughter. Until one day, he couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t ignore the pain. Couldn’t pretend it – they – everything – didn’t matter.

With a sigh, he walked over to the window, looking out across the remains of the shattered city.

Crowley’s the one who taught me, he thought, tugging at the curtain. What matters. What doesn’t. If the Aziraphale of this world had never learned…what did that mean? Did Crowley not exist? He didn’t know how these other worlds worked, but surely there couldn’t be an Aziraphale and no Crowley. The thought was too wretched to consider.

She’d said there were still humans out there, somewhere. New Eden. Under the thumb of the Archangels. Were they any kinder in this world than his own? It didn’t seem likely.

Six millennia of hard-won empathy. If he just walked away, could he say he’d changed at all?

“Don’t be a fool,” Aziraphale told himself. “This isn’t your world. It’s not your responsibility. Crowley must have come by now. You need to find him and get back home. Where you belong.”

He paused to adjust the blanket over the sleeping angel. She’d stay unconscious for at least a day, and he’d shielded her enough to ensure she wasn’t interrupted. After that, she’d be on her own.

Nothing more to do here, Aziraphale began searching for a way outside.

Halfway back to the villages of the South Downs, Aziraphale saw shapes moving in the sky.

Angels. Probably.

He fluttered down to land next to an abandoned car, rusted through so that he could tell nothing about it except that it was smaller than the Bentley.

Hundreds of angels, it appeared, weaving in a grid over the South Downs. Searching.

But not, he thought, searching for him.

A few shot by nearly overhead. He couldn’t get a good look at them, but it was enough to jog his memory. Cream jacket, gold buttons shining. Two rows. Winged pins at the collar. Tartan kilt. And a white pith helmet to complete the look.

One piece of glass still survived in the car’s wing mirror, which he used to inspect the result. The tartan had come out a little off – he’d tried to imitate a basic foot soldier’s pattern, but instead it was just his own with a bit more gold woven in. That might stand out.

Well, it he was going that route already, may as well give himself a promotion. He added some gold braid to his epaulettes, a smattering of ribbon bars on his chest, nothing too ostentatious. A bottom-choir angel, but one with an exemplary record. Perfect.

He almost wished he’d taken the other angel’s sword, but he was happier without it. Besides, she would almost certainly return to the fight before she’d even fully recovered. She needed it more than he did.

“Alright. A message. Just delivering a message. Top Secret. Priority. Yes.” Don’t overthink it, as Crowley habitually reminded him when Aziraphale’s cover stories became more complex than the plots of his favorite thrillers.

He kicked off from the ground and flew directly towards the other angels, hands out so they could see he was unarmed.

“Halt!” one shouted, almost immediately.

Aziraphale spread his wings to hover in the air and immediately wished he hadn’t. Six thousand years on Earth, certain muscles were far out of practice, and really, these wings weren’t designed for hovering even in the best of circumstances.

“Identify yourself!” another angel snapped.

“Kasbeel, Third Warden of the Fourth Heaven, Second Battalion, Fourth Platoon, recently transferred from Fourth Battalion, Third Platoon. Messenger of –” he hesitated for half a second, because messengers weren’t numbered. “—of, er, Venus.” He threw up his hand into what he hoped was the correct salute for his alleged station.

The other two angels glanced at each other. “Third Battalion you say?”

“No, Second Battalion, though, previously, I was in the Fourth Battalion, though, interestingly, when I was first created –”

“Alright,” the angel on the right said, saluting him back, “we don’t need your life story. But you can’t come through here. This area is under containment.”

“Really?” Aziraphale asked, trying to look as though he knew nothing relevant. “Why would it be under containment?”

“That’s classified.”

“Ah. Well. I need to come through here. I have a message. Information on the most recent troop movements, for…” another hesitation. Gabriel’s name would get him anywhere, assuming Gabriel wasn’t currently in Heaven and willfully ignoring such petty details as death tolls and battle formations, which sounded very probable. Michael would work as well, but there was a chance she – or Uriel, or Sandalphon – was leading the charge back over the sea. If he gave the wrong name, they would know. “…for headquarters.” There was always a headquarters.

“That sounds very important,” said the angel on the left. “You still can’t come through here.”

“Classified,” the angel on the right added.

“But you don’t understand! I need to deliver this message as quickly as possible. Do you know how many battles have turned based solely on the arrival of timely information?”

“How many?”

“Lots! Think of the Battle of Marathon! The Charge of the Light Brigade, though that’s really more of a counterexample. Er.” Aziraphale was already near the end of his scanty military knowledge, but the two angels looked baffled already. “The Battle of the Iron Gate! The War of the Outlaws! The Boston Molasses Flood! The Great Wrath!”

“Did you say Molasses?”

Perhaps he’d overplayed it a bit. “Many died at the hands of Distilled Purity.”

The two angels exchanged another glance. He wished their faces weren’t so carefully blank. “I suppose you’re correct,” the one on the left started, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“We can take the message and deliver it for you. To save time.”

“You can’t,” Aziraphale jumped in, a little too quickly.

Now he could read their expressions: obvious suspicion. “Why not?”

“It’s…classified.”

“I can carry a sealed container without opening it,” pointed out the angel on the left.

“There is no physical message. I have it…memorized.”

“You have all the troop movements memorized?” The angel on the right had graduated from suspicion to downright distrust.

“Yes. Which is why I need to deliver it soon, before the memories start to decay.”

The angel on the right leaned closer. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Kasbeel, Third Warden of –”

“And what does your name mean?”

“Er.” Aziraphale glanced at the swarms of angels fluttering around the South Downs. “You know, I’m starting to think it would be much simpler to go around. Yes. Far less hassle. No tedious bureaucracy or other nonsense. I’ll just be on my way. Toodle-pip!”

He spun and folded his wings, gliding and diving above the twisted motorway. As near as he could tell, no one was following him.

With one last flutter of aching wings, Aziraphale settled down beside another rusted-out car. He stretched and flexed his wings, which had not been used this much since before the atmosphere was formed. The one on the right had developed something like a cramp. “Perhaps I’ll walk for a bit. Old-fashioned footwork and all that.” With one last arch of his back, he tucked his wings away and started walking, eyes still scanning the sky for any sign of pursuit.

Which was why he almost missed the sounds from the road up ahead. Voices, not loud, but numerous. Traveling in the same direction as he.

Crouching behind another car, Aziraphale watched them. Twenty, thirty – likely more – humans, traveling in a pack. A few had children, including the young woman at the back with short, dark hair. All of them were smudged with dirt, exhausted, and moving as fast as they could.

He shot another glance back towards the South Downs. There wasn’t much he could do to try and meet up with Crowley, not until the angels found whatever they were searching for. Assuming they weren’t searching for beings from another world, as that would make things immensely awkward.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Crowley was here. Crowley would find him. And in the meantime, a bit of detective work was in order.

A wave of his hands turned the battle outfit back to his usual suit. He did his best to shield himself, just in case, but it wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny. Hopefully the humans would be too distracted to notice his aura. Hopefully there would be no angels or demons.

“Right,” he muttered, adjusting his waistcoat and straightening his tie. “Time to get a few answers.”

(Kasbeel, according to my dictionaries of angels, means “He Who Lies to God.” Seemed accurate.)

#good omens #good omens celebration #good omens prime #goc2020 #aziraphale #light angst #bit of humor #good omens angels #My writing #What Might Have Been

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