depraveddame

[depraveddame]

[depraveddame]

Ummm holy fuck Vine Slips?! ❤️‍🔥📿🥀

"No Angel of Temperance" watercolor, 2024.

Private commission for @lickthecowhappy inspired by their poem of the same name

Prints!

[depraveddame]

A year ago today I set out on a journey that I didn’t expect or anticipate, and it was the start of something beautiful in the darkness of a shrouded year. I am so excited and thrilled to share the first chapter of part two of Vine Slips of a Strange God with you, Bring Your Seed to Blossom.

I sincerely hope you will enjoy the start of this story, where we jump right back into the night of December first, through the eyes of our gardener Crowley 🥀📿

Thank you all for being part of this AU; I love you all and your support means more than words can define.

❤️‍🔥

[depraveddame]

A year ago today I set out on a journey that I didn’t expect or anticipate, and it was the start of something beautiful in the darkness of a shrouded year. I am so excited and thrilled to share the first chapter of part two of Vine Slips of a Strange God with you, Bring Your Seed to Blossom.

I sincerely hope you will enjoy the start of this story, where we jump right back into the night of December first, through the eyes of our gardener Crowley 🥀📿

Thank you all for being part of this AU; I love you all and your support means more than words can define.

❤️‍🔥

[depraveddame]

It’s almost been a year since I wrote a crack thread based on an unhinged AO3 tag which then turned into the 180k+ fic Vine Slips of a Strange God that changed everything.

It feels horribly dramatic to say that writing fanfiction changed my life for the better and possibly even saved it this past year, but it’s as true as anything, and being able to write a story of this length is something that wasn’t even possible in my head until I did it. This fic has been cathartic and excruciating, it’s been rewarding and beautiful, and it’s left me raw and unable to ignore a lot that had been long dormant inside me.

Writing is always personal and I knew that, but I didn’t expect it to be so personal— I didn’t expect to be flaying myself alive as I navigated through the traumas of an emotionally and psychologically abused gardener who was made to believe he was nothing and a grieving, guilt stricken priest that convinced himself he deserved nothing. I didn’t anticipate so much of myself to be within these versions of our favorite angel and demon, but I am, and what a gift and terror it is to be known through them.

I needed time between part one and two to get myself back together, because I was in shambles once I completed Vine Slips, I was caught in a complicated tempest of relief, pride, grief and utter exhaustion. I only hope I can continue this series how it deserves. I hope I can live up to the expectations I have of myself and I hope that I can get to Christmas in canon by Christmas this year (when I started Vine Slips it was intended to be a Christmas fic, not an angsty dive into whatever Hell these two have been through over the course of seven days) and I hope that people will like it.

The response and love that Vine Slips has gotten is something else I never would have dreamed of experiencing, and I have been so very lucky in that sense, so absurdly lucky in that and in the incredible connections I’ve made with folks all over the world that are so dear to me. I’m so thankful and grateful for them, this fandom, and the generous love that has been given to me.

I hope I can give it back in the way you all deserve.

With all that said, I am aiming to publish the first chapter of part two of Vine Slips of a Strange God, titled Bring Your Seed to Blossom, on this coming Wednesday, November 20th, exactly one year later after starting that thread on Twitter. Fingers crossed I can manage it— I will do all that I can to do so.

[depraveddame]

Bring Your Seed to Blossom, the second installment of Vine Slips of a Strange God, is coming very very soon.

[depraveddame]

“Gulliver’s Travels Erotica 18th century”

…I have a deadline and my own certain reputation to uphold 😂🤌🏻

@the-oxrib-and-oyster @ineffablyruined @yourbestieluke @loopholesinmydreams

last google search, go

um. Tag four people.

what do they make sewer tunnels out of

@ncc1701ohno @affixjoy @the-magpieprince @twinkboimler

[depraveddame]

New Fic: when pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure

1941, London, the Blitz: take 3

I am a firm believer of an almost kiss or kiss in 1941 after the events we have seen…or maybe quite possibly more.

This one shot explores what might have happened between an angel and a demon in a bookshop in Soho that night during the Blitz. It’s a study in reverence and worship, in lust, in divine ecstasy and how pain manifests itself as pleasure in a certain demon as his ravaged feet are healed by a certain angel.

The title is from Persuasion, and the referenced passage is quoted at the start of the fic ✨

Tags: Canon Compliant, 1941, Post Church Scene, Post Magic Show, Aziraphale POV, pining, minor hurt/comfort, healing, homoerotic wound care, body worship, foot worship, foot fetish adjacent, masochism, kinky allusions and themes, religious imagery and symbolism, divine ecstasy, sexual tension, coming untouched, kissing, smut, sweet/hot, mild drunkenness/tipsiness, and more!

Excerpt:

“A-angel,” the rasp that leaves Crowley’s throat after perhaps two minutes inspires Aziraphale to go faster; this must be so horribly uncomfortable for the demon, the healing process, he imagines.

“Nearly done this first one, darling,” Aziraphale mutters under his breath, the endearment slipping out nearly unnoticed, warm and lush on his tongue; his own defenses have tumbled to the ground, too, as ruined as the house of God that inflicted the damage he’s undoing, “you’re doing so very well.”

He looks up in alarm at the answering whine that darts through the quiet, loud and fractured and fraught, and Crowley’s angular cheekbones are as crimson as the tie resting on his heaving chest, the fever gleam of his gaze climbing in intensity and temperature as the goldenrod of his irises begins to bloom outward.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Aziraphale whispers, staring again, drinking in the sight of the demon like he’d downed the wine— gratefully and with gnawing, writhing hunger, “is it— is it very painful, my touch? I suppose it is technically divine—”

“No,” Crowley hisses emphatically through gritted teeth, eyes screwing shut as he shakes his head; his foot twitches in Aziraphale’s hand, “‘s not— it’s not that, it’s just— ‘s a lot. Been a long night.”

You can certainly say that, Aziraphale muses inwardly as the last remnants of hurt ebb away from under his palm, as he draws out the last of the throbbing, flayed nerve inflammation and neutralizes its sting.

“Yes, it has been,” Aziraphale nods as he glances back down, his face burning, like some of the heat he just soothed away from Crowley’s foot instead manifested itself in his own cheeks, “I know, Crowley. Thank you for letting me tend to you, for— for everything you’ve done, tonight,” he runs the tip of his index finger along the top of the really very lovely foot in his grasp, unable to stop himself from answering the siren call of its sculpted ivory curve, “for trusting me.”

He doesn’t mean to go on and on about that, but Aziraphale knows he won’t be able to stop thinking about it whenever he looks back on this evening (and he will look back on it a lot, he can tell).

The velvet of Crowley’s skin being so feather soft is something else he knows he’ll recall often.

*

@goodomensafterdark

[depraveddame]

New Fic: when pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure

1941, London, the Blitz: take 3

I am a firm believer of an almost kiss or kiss in 1941 after the events we have seen…or maybe quite possibly more.

This one shot explores what might have happened between an angel and a demon in a bookshop in Soho that night during the Blitz. It’s a study in reverence and worship, in lust, in divine ecstasy and how pain manifests itself as pleasure in a certain demon as his ravaged feet are healed by a certain angel.

The title is from Persuasion, and the referenced passage is quoted at the start of the fic ✨

Tags: Canon Compliant, 1941, Post Church Scene, Post Magic Show, Aziraphale POV, pining, minor hurt/comfort, healing, homoerotic wound care, body worship, foot worship, foot fetish adjacent, masochism, kinky allusions and themes, religious imagery and symbolism, divine ecstasy, sexual tension, coming untouched, kissing, smut, sweet/hot, mild drunkenness/tipsiness, and more!

Excerpt:

“A-angel,” the rasp that leaves Crowley’s throat after perhaps two minutes inspires Aziraphale to go faster; this must be so horribly uncomfortable for the demon, the healing process, he imagines.

“Nearly done this first one, darling,” Aziraphale mutters under his breath, the endearment slipping out nearly unnoticed, warm and lush on his tongue; his own defenses have tumbled to the ground, too, as ruined as the house of God that inflicted the damage he’s undoing, “you’re doing so very well.”

He looks up in alarm at the answering whine that darts through the quiet, loud and fractured and fraught, and Crowley’s angular cheekbones are as crimson as the tie resting on his heaving chest, the fever gleam of his gaze climbing in intensity and temperature as the goldenrod of his irises begins to bloom outward.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Aziraphale whispers, staring again, drinking in the sight of the demon like he’d downed the wine— gratefully and with gnawing, writhing hunger, “is it— is it very painful, my touch? I suppose it is technically divine—”

“No,” Crowley hisses emphatically through gritted teeth, eyes screwing shut as he shakes his head; his foot twitches in Aziraphale’s hand, “‘s not— it’s not that, it’s just— ‘s a lot. Been a long night.”

You can certainly say that, Aziraphale muses inwardly as the last remnants of hurt ebb away from under his palm, as he draws out the last of the throbbing, flayed nerve inflammation and neutralizes its sting.

“Yes, it has been,” Aziraphale nods as he glances back down, his face burning, like some of the heat he just soothed away from Crowley’s foot instead manifested itself in his own cheeks, “I know, Crowley. Thank you for letting me tend to you, for— for everything you’ve done, tonight,” he runs the tip of his index finger along the top of the really very lovely foot in his grasp, unable to stop himself from answering the siren call of its sculpted ivory curve, “for trusting me.”

He doesn’t mean to go on and on about that, but Aziraphale knows he won’t be able to stop thinking about it whenever he looks back on this evening (and he will look back on it a lot, he can tell).

The velvet of Crowley’s skin being so feather soft is something else he knows he’ll recall often.

*

@goodomensafterdark

[depraveddame]

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me @ unsuspecting tumblr users blogging in peace

[depraveddame]

My geriatric ass trying to catch up to these newfangled boops

[depraveddame]

[depraveddame]

I’m dying this is absolute perfection

If all else fails, we still have fanfics

for my 13 days of Good Omens S3, I mean: 8 days of Good Omens Final 90 challenge

Based on The Arrangement: Ineffable Prompt A-Thon AU by the great @depraveddame

This chapter contains the bandstand and gave me the idea for the gif:

Go read (start with chapter 1) and mind the tags (but it's beautifully written!)

[depraveddame]

0rphelia (@orpheli37006123, Twitter), "Redraw of J.C. Leyendecker's Consolation but make it ineffable husbands"

[depraveddame]

💖✨ time to start posting part two of Vine Slips soon…

GNAWING AT THE WALLS OF MY GODDAMN ENCLOSURE

@depraveddame what did you put in this fic i swear (/positive)