#finally started good omens yesterday

[the-kneesbees]

much queer media these past few days it makes me feel so good

[shenzaibird-art]

Constructs of Blood

“Verloren was well known for the gruesome magic crafts he used in the battlefield, but one of his most unsettling works was his ever growing Blood Army. Created from the corpses of his victims, these wretched things were devoid of any life, like hollow puppets of flesh, blood and bone. With no organs to perform bodily functions, their tissues were kept partially alive by magis alone, sourced from their former souls which he had bound to their flesh upon their deaths.

“Under Verloren's control, they were menacingly swift, dashing through enemy lines on their feet and hands, and delivering often fatal bites to any unarmored necks. It was nearly impossible to get one of these to let go once they clenched their teeth on their target, as they felt no pain and were simply disposable tools to their master, who had little concern if they were to suffer damages. Such formidable killing machines must have taken immense power to keep running, and yet, Verloren was able to maintain dozens of them around him, managing their every move while simultaneously using several other spells. The extent of his abilities was truly absurd.

“And as his vicious creations marched into battle, they left a trail of blood everywhere they passed. A constant stream of blood was generated within their carcasses and it overflowed, leaking through several places in their bodies -- perhaps a consequence of how much magis coursed through them. So among the bloodshed of their victims they left behind their own unnatural, necromagical blood. People in the region all dreaded the sight of those red-stained paths, for they were a sinister sign that somewhere nearby, death had been lurking, and has already made its move."

---

My first drawing of 2025.

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 18

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

NOAH

Walking after having my ride request rejected four times was a humiliation I didn’t expect to face at this point in my life. With every step, the cold wind seemed to mock me, cutting my face as I shoved my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, trying to ignore the irritating feeling that things couldn’t get any worse.

Of course, that was a lie.

Thanks to the scene she made outside the studio yesterday, I was more screwed than ever. Barely awake this morning, I’d already lost count of the calls from Gerard, all laced with the same desperate tone. And as if that wasn’t enough, my name was popping up on corners of the internet I didn’t even know existed, tied to the most absurd stories.

"Bad Omens' vocalist freaks out after seeing ex with a new girlfriend." That was the most creative headline so far. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to stay out of anything that could draw attention to me on social media; it was unbearable living with every step of mine under scrutiny—through a photo, a video, or some wildly out-of-context clip. I had to think about everything: what to wear, how to talk, even how people might interpret my lip movements.

Every tiny detail was blown out of proportion.

And there was no escaping it when I was stuck next to a walking magnet for trouble. She knew exactly how much I hated feeling exposed. And, of course, she made a point of provoking me on purpose.

I adjusted the hood of my hoodie, pulling it further down. That’s when I heard it: female voices behind me. They were far off, but there was a tone of excitement that made me freeze for a second. Taking a deep breath, I tried to look casual and quickened my pace. Maybe it was paranoia, but something about their laughter felt like it was following me.

The voices grew louder. I glanced over my shoulder, and there they were—two girls whispering and looking at me like they’d just won the lottery. Panic rose like a wave. I walked faster, trying to stay calm, but my hands were already clammy inside my pockets.

I don’t know why I thought I could get away. Maybe it was stupid optimism or sheer denial. They started running, and before I knew it, one of them was at my side, gripping my arm tightly enough to make me stop.

“Noah!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as if she’d just stumbled upon a unicorn. “We spent all morning waiting for you to walk by! Finally, we got to see you!”

“Wow!” I said, looking up slightly, something about her statement rubbing me the wrong way. “Thanks for the attention, ladies, but I really need to go now.”

“You’re upset about what happened yesterday, aren’t you? If you knew how mad we are at that—”

“Look, I’m really in a hurry,” I cut her off, my tone firmer as I pulled away from her grip.

“Noah, we’re only thinking about your well-being, and it’s clear that it doesn’t involve staying around her! It’s not like Scarlet is a good choice. Maybe it’s better for you to be alone for a while!”

“Exactly!” the other one chimed in. “We’re doing everything we can to make sure she pays for tormenting you, don’t worry! But we also want you to stay away from people like her, and I think it’d be a great idea to kick her out of the band, for example.”

“I agree!” the annoying one continued. “Who knows, maybe then you’ll sing Just Pretend again—it’s my favorite song, and I think it’s unfair you don’t sing it anymore because of her!”

They spoke as if I were a doll on a shelf, with no control over my own actions or feelings. I couldn’t even choose who to date without them turning it into hell from the very start of my relationship. They’d been stalking the person I’ve loved for nine years, blowing every minor mistake out of proportion and turning it into a risk for me.

I couldn’t even choose the damn song I wanted to sing.

Forcing a smile, I tried not to look as uncomfortable as I felt. “I’m genuinely concerned about how little you have to do. This is the last time I’ll warn you to stop meddling in my personal life. And I stopped singing that song because I wanted to!”

“Okay, okay!” one of them raised her hands as if surrendering. “But before you go, could you take a picture with us?”

“Oh, please, just one photo! It’ll be quick, I promise!”

“I’m not feeling comfortable taking pictures today, sorry.”

She already had her phone in hand before I could even finish answering. The other girl joined her, giddy, saying something about posting it online. The discomfort slowly wrapped itself into a sharp pain stabbing through my chest, tightening like a thin rope around me.

All I wanted was to disappear.

“I just said I’m not feeling comfortable taking pictures! WHAT THE HELL!” I exploded, and they froze, phones in hand.

Each step felt heavier than the last. It was as if the air around me had turned denser, suffocating. My chest began to tighten, and the familiar sensation of anxiety crept to the surface, slow and cruel. At first, I tried to ignore it. I took a deep breath, adjusted my hood, fiddled with my pockets—anything to distract my mind. But nothing seemed to work. My heart beat like an off-rhythm drum, and I could feel a thin layer of sweat accumulating on my forehead, despite the biting cold.

The streets around me blurred, dissolving into unrecognizable smudges. The voices of pedestrians melded together, turning into an unbearable background noise. I tried convincing myself it was all in my head, that I just needed to reach my destination, and everything would be fine.

But the record label building seemed further and further away, even though I knew it was just a few blocks ahead. My lungs started to burn, unable to take in enough air. My hands trembled inside my pockets, and I caught myself wishing I’d accepted the girls’ help, even though I knew how absurd that was.

When I finally saw the entrance to the building, a fleeting wave of relief washed over me, only to be replaced by a nauseating sensation. My legs felt like they were giving out with each step, and sweat now trickled down the back of my neck.

I stumbled into the lobby, barely recognizing the faces around me. Gerard was there, likely waiting for me, but his expression shifted the moment he saw me.

“Noah, are you okay?” he asked, but his voice sounded distant, like he was speaking underwater.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, I felt my body weaken. The world around me began to spin, and my vision darkened at the edges. Before I could comprehend what was happening, my legs gave out completely, and everything went black.

“Don’t think this pathetic scene, pretending you’re having some sort of breakdown, is going to save you from our conversation!”

Opening my eyes felt like waking up in hell. My head throbbed as if a drum was being pounded inside it, and the first thing I saw was Gerard’s furious face, so close it looked like he was about to explode. All he needed was to start breathing fire.

I was lying on the couch in his office, but I had no idea how I’d gotten there. All I remembered was the moment the world darkened and collapsed around me.

“I think I had a panic attack,” I muttered, pressing the bridge of my nose as a groan escaped my lips.

“Don’t start with your nonsense now!” Gerard snapped, stepping back and pacing like a caged lion. “Not with a tour about to kick off!”

Watching his frantic pacing only made me dizzier. I closed my eyes again, trying to quiet the incessant buzzing in my head.

“If you’re overwhelmed and think you can’t handle it, then shove some sedatives down your throat!” he continued, his voice dripping with contempt.

“I don’t even take medicine for a headache,” I shot back in a low tone. “You know how I feel about that.”

“Then stop with the theatrics, Noah!” he barked, his voice sharp. “Hold your ground as the frontman and quit acting like a fragile crystal. I can’t stand weak people.”

His words hit like stones being thrown at me. Even so, they still felt distant, like I was hearing them through water. My flesh trembled, a light but uncontrollable vibration.

“You screwed everything up!” he suddenly accused.

“What are you talking about?” I opened my eyes slowly, trying to refocus, and stared at him in confusion as I sat up on the couch.

“The thing I wanted most right now was a way to get rid of her!” he exclaimed, tilting his head as if explaining to an idiot. “And you thought it was a great idea to tie her even closer to the band?”

Gerard crossed his arms, leaning against the table. His expression was hard, brows furrowed, and a lone strand of hair fell over his perfectly aligned face, despite the visible exhaustion. He was young, but his fatigue seemed to age him.

“I don’t just want her off the singles, Noah. I don’t want her anywhere!”

I leaned back on the couch, resting my arms on my thighs as I stared at him. A low chuckle escaped my lips, slowly growing.

“Who said we’re on the same page, sweetheart?” I quipped, tilting my head. “Whatever you do with the band’s administration doesn’t concern me, but she stays.”

Gerard narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenched. "As if you'd gain anything from this. She clearly doesn't want to be around you and does everything to ruin what the band achieves. You're an idiot, Noah. You're willing to destroy everything just to stay glued to that stupid girl?"

"ENOUGH!" I interrupted, my voice booming like thunder. "My motives for this are none of your business. You asked for the singles in exchange for reducing the contract, and I held up my end. Now, you're going to hold up yours."

He stayed silent for a moment, studying me like a predator sizing up its prey. Then he rubbed his jaw, thoughtful.

"I could hold up my end," he began, his tone calmer but dripping with sarcasm. "If you hadn't blindsided me with this move and plastered the band's name across every media outlet since yesterday thanks to your idea. You only did this so you two could ditch the label and sing happily ever after."

He leaned closer, his face filled with contempt. "You betrayed me, Noah. At no point did I agree to keep her in this circus, which is why I brought suggestions for replacements!"

"But you know that without her, I can't function." I crossed my arms, meeting his gaze head-on. "You tolerate everything she does because you know having two is better than none."

"Without her, I can't function..." Gerard repeated mockingly, his voice rising in exaggerated mimicry. He let out a harsh laugh. "Then keep functioning together, because you're still going to finish producing the rest of the album."

"That's not what we agreed on!" My voice came out louder than I intended, full of frustration. "We agreed I'd deliver the singles, and you'd turn that into a short album to close out the band's obligations with the label!"

Negotiating with Gerard was like trying to make a pact with someone trapped in a spiral of mental decay. His deals were as unstable as his patience, always tainted by his tyrannical whims.

"Of course, you're scrambling now, aren't you?" He moved closer, his voice dripping with sarcasm. When he stopped in front of me, he leaned forward, invading my personal space. "You picked a fight with your biggest source of creativity. You're an incompetent mess who hasn't managed to put together a decent chorus in months, and now you're going to be forced to deliver the whole album just to prove you're still worth something!"

The laugh that followed was so sharp it felt like it reverberated directly in my nerves. He pulled back again, leaning against the edge of the table, looking smugly satisfied with the sting of his words.

"Guess what, darling?" Gerard spread his arms theatrically, as if celebrating a victory. "I've flipped the script again. Now you'll have to figure out how to make her work for you. And when she finds out you're using her..."

He paused dramatically, sighing as though genuinely regretful, but his tone betrayed the venom in his words.

"It'll just be another disappointment for her collection, won't it?"

His words were a direct punch to the gut, but I kept my expression neutral. Even though it burned, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing the pain on my face. His game was clear: manipulate, pressure, and win through exhaustion.

But I wasn't ready to give in.

Not yet.

"Alright, alright." I raised my hands in surrender as I stood up from the couch and walked toward him. My tone was laced with irony, but my gaze remained locked on his, unwavering. "But if we're going to work together, it's only fair for you to spill your little secrets, don't you think? I've always been curious about where this almost pathological grudge you have against her comes from."

I stopped a few steps away, tilting my head slightly as I watched his every reaction.

"She used to be your golden ticket, remember? That unmistakable voice, the star who made you take a chance on the band. And now? How did she go from all that to being sabotaged by you at every turn?"

Gerard's scowl remained, but something in his eyes tightened, and I pressed on, more relentless.

"Or do you really think I bought her story about not wanting to check into rehab? Because, let's face it, if she got better, what excuse would you use to keep tearing her down? It's convenient for you that she stays broken, isn't it?"

He stood still for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin, tense line. Then, without warning, he exploded. "Get out of my office!" His tone was a growl, every word spat out with restrained fury. "And don't come back here until you have something ready to hand over."

His rigid posture seemed on the verge of collapsing onto me, but I stood my ground. He took a step closer, pointing an accusatory finger at me.

"All these theories of yours mean nothing because, in the end, after everything goes through the funnel, it always comes back to you. You ruin her life because all you care about is yourself. So I suggest you figure out your place once and for all and stop messing with me."

I swallowed hard but bit back the retort threatening to escape. Now that I'd managed to rile him up as much as he'd annoyed me, I decided it was time to leave.

After a surreal chase with a duo of fans and an unbearable conversation with Gerard, which nearly sent my breakfast the wrong way, it seemed impossible for my day to get worse. But of course, underestimating the universe is always a mistake.

I greeted the guys at the studio, trying to keep my mood minimally stable. We were in a space that had belonged to a friend and was perfect for the idea we had for VAN recording. Nothing grandiose, just something intimate, focused on the collaboration we had chosen. I had arranged everything over the phone with the vocalist of a band, an old friend. I sent her the script, and she, always understanding, got it right away. Easy, simple... or so it should have been.

“Where’s the girl?” I asked Matt, who had his headphones on, fiddling with something in the sound system.

The room was partially dark, lit only by the setup lights as the crew finished preparing the scene. Matt, as always, didn’t bother to take off his headphones or pay attention to what I was saying. He just gestured toward the back of the studio. I took a deep breath, ignoring his rudeness, and moved on, determined to ensure everything was in order.

In the back, some makeshift rooms served as dressing rooms and storage for production clutter. As soon as I turned down the hallway, a familiar, nearly unmistakable smell made my stomach churn.

“Hey, just checking if everything’s ready?” I asked, trying to sound calm, my hands stuffed in my pockets to hide my nervousness.

I was about to follow up with another question when the chair in front of me swiveled around. And there she was.

Her dark, enormous eyes stared at me, gleaming with that devilish touch she used every time she wanted to get under my skin. She was flawless: perfect makeup, carefully chosen clothes, a wide smile forming a treacherous dimple in her cheek.

“Hi, Noah,” she said, winking at me as if we were having a casual meeting and not on the brink of catastrophe.

No. No. No. No. No.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?” I exploded, my heart pounding in my chest.

“I’m here to shoot the music video for my song,” she replied calmly, blowing on her nails as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Can you believe I stayed up all night at the studio to finish the recorded parts? But it’s fine, nothing I can’t handle.”

“And what did you do with the collaboration?” My voice was tense as I looked around, searching for any sign of my friend. I didn’t trust her. I never would. “Where’s the girl?”

“Oh, she’s definitely in a better place, darling.” She smiled that venomous smile, blowing a kiss into the air. “Didn’t you say I’m now obligated to stay and put up with you? Well, it’s only fair that you put up with me too, you bastard.”

My head throbbed. The thought of enduring her was torture enough, but now she was here, smiling with that victorious air as if she’d just won a war I didn’t even know was happening.

“Listen here, do you think this is a joke?” I asked, crossing my arms and forcing a firmer tone. “Have you checked your phone today to see what your stunt yesterday led to? Do you want another scandal tied to your name when people find out you go around kidnapping band vocalists?”

“I don’t think it’s a joke, darling.” She stood up from the chair, strutting across the room like she owned the place. “And technically, it wasn’t me who kidnapped her—it was Folio.”

I’d deal with him later.

“Oh, relax, Noah. I’m the star here. You just need to stay in your lane and let me shine.”

It was impossible. She was impossible. And the worst part? She knew exactly what she was doing.

On set, everyone was ready. The lighting was adjusted, cameras were positioned, and the script was in hand. I forced myself to ignore her provocative gaze while the technicians made the final adjustments.

“We’ll start with the chorus scene,” I said, trying to maintain a professional tone. “Remember, it’s supposed to be a bit emotional. You need to look vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable?” She let out a short laugh, fixing her hair. “Then I’ll just imitate you.”

I closed my eyes for a second, taking a deep breath as I heard the guys laugh quietly. She loved testing me, and I couldn’t give her the satisfaction of losing control.

The music began to play, and her voice filled the studio, as it always did. It was infuriating how she could be so good, so naturally magnetic. Everyone in the studio seemed captivated, especially the lighting technician, who leaned into his mic to say something during the pauses.

“Great job, it’s amazing,” he said, smiling in a way that made me uncomfortable.

“Thanks!” she replied with a soft laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder for a second longer than necessary.

My jaw clenched. She’s just being polite, I thought. But my mind insisted on turning that gesture into something bigger.

“Let’s keep going. I’m sure there’ll be time for flirting once we’re done.” I turned to the director of photography. “Next scene. Lights in position three. And you,” I pointed at her, “remember, this is a music video, not a theater performance.”

“As you wish, darling.” She winked, returning to her mark on the floor.

As the shoot progressed, I found myself watching her every move, every laugh she shared with the others, every touch that seemed casual but felt like a direct provocation to me. It was unbearable.

I wanted to kill myself.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ; @just-randomm-stuff

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

READ 70 PAGES OF THE GOOD OMENS BOOK WITH WHICH I HAVE HOMOEROTIC TENSION AS WE KNOW

WE ALL KNOW ABOUT THE HOMOEROTIC RIVALRY BETWEEN ME AND MY COPY OF THE GOOD OMENS BOOK. WE KNOW. IT STARES AT ME, I STARE BACK, IT DARES ME TO READ IT AND FALL IN LOVE WITH CROWLEY MORE, I REFUSE. WE PUT THE UST IN LUST ETC.

BUT TODAY/YESTERDAY (RIP SLEEP SCHEDULE) SINCE I WASNT ON TUMBLR, I READ TILL PAGE 70 OF THE BOOK (TILL THE PART CALLED WEDNESDAY) AND GOD FUCKING DAMN. I READ IT LISTENING TO AN AZIRAPHALE BOOKSHOP AMBIENCE AND WITH CHOPIN PLAYING AND CANDLES LIT. ANYWAY. THINGS THAT HAVE STUCK OUT TO ME:

Crowley. Just everything about Crowley. God I love him. I fucking love him. This is why I avoid reading the book. I'm such a slut for Crowley. It's manageable on the show when I know it's an actor. But WORDS CROWLEY? WORDS CROWLEY IS REAL. I AM SO IN LOVE.

Aziraphale has perfectly manicured hands. I'm pretty sure this has been mentioned three times in the first 70 pages. Three times at minimum. I forget how twink he is in the show (idk how) but man the book does NOT let you forget and I love that.

Crowley absent-mindedly sank a duck. Aziraphale called him my dear (fanfic authors everywhere: write that down write that motherfucking shit down it's better than porn). Crowley un-sunk the duck. The duck was cross.

CROWLEY DID I MENTIONED CROWLEY OH MY BABY FANCIED THE JAMES BOND DECALS HE WANTED TO LISTEN TO VIVALDI COZ THEY WERE SO STRESSED AFTER RECEIVING THE ANTICHRIST THEY LOVE GOLDEN GIRLS (I LOOKED IT UP AND OH CROWLEY) THEY DRANK FOR A WEEK AFTER SEEING THE SPANISH INQUISITION THEY OMG.

THE DRUNK SCENE. I FINALLY UNDERSTOOD THE DOLPHINS CONVERSATION. OMG THESE TWO FUCKING FOOLS I ADORE THEM.

Crowley IN THAT SCENE AND AZIRAPHALE IN THAT SCENE HOLY SHIT. CROWLEY JUST LISTING OFF ALL THE THINGS SHE KNOWS AZIRAPHALE LOVES.

AND OMG. The CONVOLUTED FUCKING METAPHOR CROWLEY COMES UP WITH INVOLVING A LITTLE BIRD FLYING TO THE ENDS OF THE UNIVERSE AND PECKING A MOUNTAIN AND COMING BACK AND DOING IT ON LOOP. FOR WHAT? JUST TO SAY THAT WHEN THE MOUNTAIN WAS GONE, HEAVEN WOULD STILL BE PLAYING THE SOUND OF MUSIC.

As usual just like me Crowley shot himself in the foot with that metaphor. Because AZIRAPHALE, THE LEGEND, STARTS SAYING THE BIRD MUST BE IMMORTAL FOR THAT, AND THEN SAYS NO ACTUALLY THE BIRD IS BEING CARRIED IN A SPACESHIP AND THE DESCENDANTS EMERGE FROM THE SPACESHIP and poor crowley is saying SO THE BIRD REACHES THE MOUNTAIN and azi excitedly says IN THE SPACESHIP and AAAAAAAAA-

Anyway right yes sorry what were we doing oh right the book.

Anathema is so adorable as a kid what a little brat holy shit I love her. I want to see all her homework written in Middle English. I want to know which teacher finally summoned the balls to correct it.

NEWT MON CHERI HE'S SO EXCITED ABOUT ONLY DESTROYING THE HOUSE'S POWER CIRCUIT WITH HIS EXPERIMENT. Because apparently last time he fucking caused a power outage in the whole block. Or county. We stan an optimist (no one talk to me about Crowley being an optimist I will go feral and rip your larynx out).

THE THIRD BABY DID NOT WIN PRIZES FOR TROPICAL FISH. THIS IS LIKE THE ENDING OF VILETTE WHEN CHARLOTTE BRONTE GOT GUILTTRIPPED BY HER DAD INTO WRITING IT AS AN OPEN ENDING BUT WE ALL KNOW IT'S A TRAGEDY FUCK ME.

CROWLEY THE PRAY THAT HE DOESN'T IT SOUNDS SO SUAVE IN THE SHOW BUT IN THE BOOK IT LITERALLY SAYS "AND FLEES". THE CHAOTIC ANXIOUS MOTHERFUCKER MAKES A RUN FOR IT.

AZIRAPHALE FUCKING GLOWERING AT CUSTOMERS AND SCARING THEM AWAY USING EVERY MEANS SHORT OF PHYSICAL VIOLENCE IM DEAD THAT LITTLE BASTARD PEAK CROSS INTROVERT ELDRITCH MONSTER ENERGY.

I CAN'T WAIT FOR ADAM TO ENTER (WELL AS A NOT BABY) AHAH.

I HOPE WARLOCK IS OKAY.

CROWLEY BEING DESCRIBED AS A YOUNG MAN DOES THINGS TO ME. AS DO THE DARK HAIR AND GOOD CHEEKBONES. DON'T EVEN TALK ABOUT DOING WEIRD THINGS WITH HIS TONGUE. I AM A SLUT FOR HER. IT'S TIMES LIKE THIS I REMEMBER WHY IM GREYACE AND NOT ENTIRELY ASEXUAL. IT'S CROWLEY.

I LOVE THE SUBTLE JOKES LIKE I DON'T EVEN GET SOME BUT THE DRY TONE IS HILARIOUS. LIKE HOW BOTH WARLOCK'S HEAVENLY AND HELLISH TUTORS READ FROM THE BOOK OF REVELATION. AND THE CUTTING COMMENTARY LIKE HOW THE DOWLINGS' SECRET AGENTS WERE TRAINED TO REACT TO WOMEN IN LONG ROBES. OR THE POLITICAL COMEDY WITH ALL THE CULTURAL ATTACHES AT ST JAMES. IT MAKES ME AMUSED EVEN THOUGH I HAVE NO CONTEXT. I WISH I UNDERSTOOD THEM MORE.

SORRY WHY AM I YELLING ABOUT THIS BEFORE 6 IN THE MORNING FUCK I FORGOT MY SLEEP MEDS NO WONDER IM STILL AWAKE AND HYPER ALSO CROWLEY ALSO AZI ALSO ADAM I HOPE MY LITTLE PLANTS MAKE IT.

WHEN IM DONE READING THE BOOK I WANNA REREAD IT OUT LOUD TO MY THREE LITTLE PLANTS TO MAKE THEM GROW HAPPY AND KNOW WHOM THEY WERE NAMED AFTER.

[pookalicious-hq]

gold rush... isagi yoichi x reader

| pt. 3... | prev | next | masterlist |

synopsis: isagi yoichi can't help but see the girl at his bus stop as a good omen tags/tws: meet-cute , swearing, realistic isagi (this guy doesn't pull any girls tbh), mc eye colour is mentioned but it's part of the plot guys word count: 5000~ a/n: omg more fluff! before mc starts butting heads with like everyone

Today would be the day he would try to start something with the girl—(Y/n)—on the bus. After Yoichi had shown up to camp the other day with a “stupid cute love-sick look,” as Bachira would say, he had to confront the budding feelings he had for the girl he had seen two days in a row. While Chigiri called it a “weird obsession,” Bachira preferred the term “true love”—both were unwelcome labels to him, yet they clung to his mind like stubborn shadows.

Unfortunately, in stark contrast to yesterday’s 20 minutes early, he was close to missing the bus and his chance to see the girl who had plagued his mind throughout the night.

As he hurried to the bus stop, the world around him seemed to fade into a blur, every thought laser-focused on her. The air was brisk, tinged with the earthy scent of freshly mowed grass, a reminder of the ongoing training at camp. Each step felt heavier than the last, his heart thrumming in his chest as if trying to keep pace with the anticipation bubbling inside him.

Just as he arrived at the stop, the bus rumbled up alongside him, its engine grumbling like a giant awakening from slumber. His pulse quickened as he scanned the crowded windows, desperate for a glimpse of her familiar figure. And then, there it was—her gentle smile breaking through the morning chaos, illuminating the bus's dim interior like a beam of sunlight.

“Made it just in time,” she laughed, the sound rich and melodic, sending sparks dancing through Yoichi’s heart. The warmth of her voice wrapped around him, and he felt a rush of relief mixed with exhilaration.

“Yeah,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. The bus doors opened with a whoosh, releasing a gust of warm air tinged with the scent of worn vinyl and mixed scents from the excited kids inside. He stepped aboard, feeling the vibrations of the engine beneath his feet, and made his way toward her, every step both exhilarating and terrifying.

The noise enveloped him like a wave, laughter and shouts intertwining in a chaotic symphony. Yoichi squeezed through the throng, scanning the bus for a spot to rest from his trek to the bus stop. Just as he thought he’d found a place to settle, a group of unruly kids pushed past, jostling him and (Y/n) until they were squeezed all the way to the back.

“Watch it!” one of the girls called, giggling as she shot a playful glare at her friends. The vibrant chaos of the bus enveloped them, the scent of spilled snacks and the faint whir of the engine humming like a heartbeat beneath the commotion.

As they finally settled into their seats at the back, the plastic cushions slightly sticky beneath them, (Y/n) glanced sideways at him, her eyes sparkling with amusment. Then, she turned back to the thrumming mass of kids, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. “This is cozy,” she said, laughter bubbling beneath her words, the sound light and infectious.

The bus bounced over bumps in the road, swaying rhythmically as it navigated the streets. Yoichi could feel the vibrations coursing through the floor, each jolt sending a wave of energy through him. The laughter and chatter echoed around them, creating a symphony of youthful exuberance that filled the confined space.

A few students a couple of seats ahead turned to look back at them, their whispers weaving through the din like tiny ripples in water. “Do you think they’re married?” one boy giggled, nudging his friend.

“You should ask.” another girl replied, stifling laughter, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Suddenly, a little girl piped up, her voice rising above the chatter, “Miss, um… you have really pretty eyes!” The sweetness of her tone cut through the noise, capturing the attention of those nearby.

(Y/n)'s cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, the compliment catching her off guard. Yoichi’s heart raced, and he instinctively nodded in agreement, his gaze fixated on her. The sunlight streamed through the bus windows, casting a golden hue that danced across her features, making her eyes shimmer like precious stones. He noticed the flecks of gold within them, sparkling like sunlight filtering through leaves, and he found himself mesmerized.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she replied, a gentle smile growing as she addressed the younger girls. “You all have lovely smiles, too. Way better than mine.”

Everyone in the vicinity of the exchange smiled at (Y/n)’s words, their laughter filling the bus with a warm, contagious energy. But Yoichi couldn’t even imagine what had blessed him to be in the presence of such an amazing soul. The conversation had caught the original group of friends, and the two had built up the courage to talk to the golden-eyed girl, something he himself wished he had.

“Are you and him,” the boy nudged his chin towards Yoichi, “married?” the little boy asked, eyes wide with innocent curiosity.

(Y/n) blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. “Oh…!” a burst of laughter full of shock escaped her mouth, “no honey we aren’t,” she exclaimed, her surprise evident. Her reaction sent a ripple of laughter through the surrounding kids, and Yoichi felt the heat rising to his cheeks, his face burning like the sun had set it aflame.

The little boy considered her response momentarily, his brow furrowing in thought. “Well, can I marry you then?” he asked earnestly, tilting his head with all the sincerity a child could muster.

She chuckled, her laughter light and melodic. “Oh, we both aren’t old enough for that,” she replied playfully, glancing at Yoichi as she continued, “And I have to ask my mom first. Did you ask yours?”

The boy let out a defeated ‘no’ with a sigh, then travelled back to his friends.

The playful tone in her voice set off another wave of giggles among the kids, and Yoichi couldn't help but join in, his embarrassment melting into amusement. He shot her a sidelong glance, his heart swelling at her lightheartedness. The way she interacted with the kids, mixing humour and kindness, only deepened his admiration for her.

As the bus jostled over another bump, Yoichi couldn’t shake the smile from his face. The moment felt like a snapshot of joy, frozen in time, and he wondered if he could ever muster the courage to say something more to the girl who had unknowingly captivated him. The energy around them buzzed with excitement, filling the cramped bus with a warmth that made him forget about his nervousness.

“I’m pretty sure you broke his heart,” he joked, his tone overly serious and tense, the words barely escaping before a grin spread across his lips.

(Y/n) turned to him, her brow arched, and a playful glint danced in her eyes. “Oh, shut up. At least someone wouldn’t have reported me to the police,” she shot back, laughter bubbling beneath her words like a hidden spring.

The intensity of her gaze sent a thrill through him, and the sound of her laughter resonated in his chest, a sweet melody he wanted to bottle up and get drunk on. The air in the bus felt charged, the mix of youthful energy and the scent of cinnamon from snacks shared among the kids created a comforting and exhilarating atmosphere.

Yoichi leaned back in his seat, heart racing. He caught her glancing sideways, her smile wide and genuine, and in that moment, everything else faded away. The chatter of the other kids became a soft murmur, the hum of the bus engine a gentle backdrop to their exchange. He could see the sun illuminating her hair, casting a warm glow that framed her face perfectly. She looked like she belonged in a daydream, and he wanted nothing more than to be the reason for that smile.

“Don’t worry, I know a good lawyer,” he suggested, trying to sound casual as his heart raced. “I might be able to get money for bail.”

(Y/n)’s laughter rang out, bright and infectious, pulling in the attention of the kids around them once more. “I’m not sure if I’ll take your word,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Though I might take up your offer later.”

He shrugged in response, a smile finding its way onto his face, warming his cheeks. The playful banter felt like a cozy blanket, wrapping them in a moment that seemed to stretch on forever. But as the bus continued to jostle along, the chatter around them began to fade, the sounds of youthful exuberance softening into the background.

Soon enough, the familiar stop approached, the bus slowing with a gentle rumble. (Y/n) let out a soft sigh, a hint of reluctance creeping into her expression as she lifted her bags onto her shoulder.

“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she said, her smile lingering, brightening the crowded bus with a touch of warmth. Yoichi felt his heart flutter, caught between the joy of seeing her and the pang of her imminent departure.

“Yeah, tomorrow,” he replied, his voice steadier than he felt. He watched as she stepped off the bus, the sunlight catching her hair in a halo as she turned to give him one last wave.

The doors closed with a gentle hiss, and the bus pulled away, leaving Yoichi with the echo of her laughter and the lingering warmth of their shared moment. As they drove away, he couldn’t help but smile, already anticipating the next day, where he hoped to uncover more layers of the girl who had unknowingly captured his heart.

(Y/n) leaned against the row of lockers in the changing room, the familiar scent of sweat and disinfectant hanging in the air. Excitement buzzed among her teammates like static electricity as they prepped for another day of training. The chatter was a mix of teasing and encouragement, punctuated by the clatter of cleats and the rustle of jerseys being pulled on. Everyone could barely contain their excitement; a full-on scrimmage always ignited their hunger to win. That’s what this team strived for—every one of the girls cherished victory more than anything else.

The air surrounding her was charged with energy, determined faces and bright smiles flying around, filling her with anticipation. Nara caught sight of Yua, her close friend and striker, lacing up her cleats while shooting her a playful grin. "Ready to beat up Mister First Place?" Yua teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Beside them, Aiko tossed her hair back, a cascade of dark waves shimmering under the fluorescent lights, and chimed in, “I bet they’re all just show-offs, nasty bitches.” Laughter and words of agreement erupted in the locker room, the sound echoing off the walls like a burst of energy, filling the air with a blend of joy and fierce competitiveness.

(Y/n)’s heart raced at the thought of the upcoming scrimmage. The excitement coiled tightly in her chest, a thrilling reminder that it was finally time to reclaim her rightful first rank and prove that they were a force to be reckoned with. Outside, the sounds of cleats thudding against the ground and voices rising signaled the arrival of their opponents; now that the two fields had been joined, the day’s challenge was about to begin. A hush fell over the locker room, the girls’ expressions shifting from playful to serious. There was only one thing on their minds today: winning.

As per tradition, the girls gathered in a tight circle around the benches, their arms crossing over each other’s backs united as Japan’s U-20 women’s national team. (Y/n) inhaled deeply, savoring the mixed scents of sweat, adrenaline, and determination in the air. All eyes turned towards her—their captain—waiting for her to ignite their spirits.

“So,” she began, a small smile creeping onto her lips as she felt the familiar rush of competitiveness wash over her, “we know we’re good. We’re probably better than them, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to hold back on our way to crush them.” Her voice rang out clear and confident, and a spark ignited in the room, her words bringing a fierce, determined grin to each girl’s face.

“Just gotta stick to what we know,” she continued, her eyes glinting as she took in the determined expressions surrounding her. “No fucking around. We have a reputation to uphold, yeah? And there’s no way in hell I’m letting any bratty show-off get the best of any of us.”

A chorus of nods and murmurs of agreement rippled through the circle, and Yua added with a playful gasp, “so protective!”

She rolled her eyes in response, but her heart swelled as she continued, “We have each other’s backs. Trust one another, follow your instincts, because I know that good things will come from it. Remember, we go for gold.”

“Let’s fucking kill ‘em.” she finished, a crazed smile adorning her once delicate features. The girls shouted and agreed in unison, their voices a fierce echo of unity that sent adrenaline coursing through her veins. 

In a swarm of white jerseys, the girls grabbed their water bottles and filed out of the locker room.

The air was charged with energy as (Y/n) and her teammates dispersed onto the field, their feet pounding against the grass in a synchronized rhythm. The sun hung high, casting a golden glow over the expansive training grounds, while a gentle breeze swept through, carrying the faint scent of freshly cut grass. She felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as they warmed up, executing their drills with precision and determination. Each pass and shot resonated with purpose, igniting their competitive spirits further.

The familiar routine of a dynamic warm-up transformed the girls into a well-oiled machine, their bodies moving instinctively through the motions. As they stretched and lunged, the rhythmic sound of their feet hitting the ground echoed across the field, drowning out the distant chatter from the boys' team warming up nearby. Each movement helped to ease yesterday's aches and pains, loosening tight muscles and awakening their competitive spirits. Nara could feel the tension melting away, replaced by a sense of harmony that bound them together. The air buzzed with anticipation, each girl sharing knowing glances, smiles creeping onto their faces as they exchanged playful nudges and laughter. This was their ritual—a ritual that signified not just preparation but a deep-rooted bond forged through countless practices and shared victories. With each passing moment, the collective energy built, fueling their determination as they mentally geared up for the challenge ahead.

As she completed her final stretch, her eyes flicked upward to the leaderboard looming above the field. The bright numbers flashed a glaring reminder of her hard-earned second place, almost as if they were taunting her. Frustration surged within her, and she looked away with a huff, shaking her head in defiance. There was no way she would allow that position to define her—not today.

With a steely determination bubbling in her chest, she promised herself that she would pour every ounce of energy into this scrimmage. Injuries were a part of the game, but today she wouldn’t let the fear of them hold her back. She would push through the fatigue, the aches, and the mental barriers that threatened to creep in. Her teammates needed her, and she was ready to prove that they were more than just a second-place team. Today, they were going to show everyone that they were hungry for victory, and nothing would stand in her way.

Finally, two sharp whistles pierced through the field, drawing every player's attention to the coaches standing in the middle of the field. Everyone knew what that meant, the shrill sound echoed, signalling that it was time to huddle up. (Y/n) could feel a mix of anticipation and reluctance rippling through her team. Huddling together was one thing, but huddling with the enemy? That was another matter entirely.

If she had to guess, her teammates would rather avoid getting too close to those guys, even if the scrimmage demanded it. The tension was palpable, a silent agreement passing between them that they would put on brave faces. But deep down, she could sense their hesitation. Today wasn’t just about the game; it was about proving their worth as a team, even if it meant standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the competitors they had yet to size up.

With a determined sigh, (Y/n) straightened her back, her eyes locked on the coaches ahead. A sense of purpose coursed through her veins as she made her way toward them, her footsteps echoing against the grass. The air was charged with anticipation, and she could feel her teammates gathering behind her like a powerful tide. Their collective presence provided her with a surge of confidence; they moved together as one cohesive unit, an unspoken bond connecting them.

As they approached, the coaches called for silence, their voices commanding attention amidst the whispers and shifting feet. She could see the boys’ team off to the side, their expressions a mix of cockiness and curiosity.

“Alright, everyone,” the boys' head coach boomed, his voice slicing through the charged atmosphere like a knife. “Let’s get this scrimmage underway. This isn’t just about showcasing your skills; it’s about teamwork, strategy, and respect for the game.”

(Y/n) felt a surge of electricity ripple through her as she exchanged determined glances with her teammates. The air was thick with anticipation, every heartbeat echoing the unspoken agreement among them: today, they would leave everything on the field. She turned her attention to Coach Watanabe, who stepped forward, exuding calm authority.

“I’m sure you can learn a lot from each other,” she said, her tone firm yet encouraging. “Remember, it’s not all about first place.”

At that moment, she stifled a cough, surprise flaring in her chest. Her eyebrows shot up, a mix of disbelief and amusement etched across her face. Coach Watanabe let out a soft laugh, clearly entertained by (Y/n)'s reaction, and the tension eased slightly.

Her eyes darted to the boys' team, a quiet challenge building within her. She braced herself for any objections to her coach’s words; she would defend Coach Watanabe’s perspective fiercely. But instead of protests, she met a wave of confused and skeptical looks. 

Then, one pair of dark blue eyes caught her attention, pulling her in like a magnet.

Surprise flooded her, mingling with curiosity and a rush of adrenaline. She hadn’t expected to see him here, and the unexpectedness sent her heart racing. Their gazes locked for a heartbeat, an unspoken challenge flickering between them—a spark that ignited something deep within her. He looked just as surprised to see her, both of them sharing the same field.

He looked different. He looked…good.

The uniform jersey clung to the expanse of his shoulders, highlighting the athletic build she hadn’t noticed before. The deep blue fabric matched the colour that resided in his eyes, creating a striking contrast against the sun-kissed skin of his arms. This was a far cry from the thick jacket that swallowed him up on the bus; he looked strong and capable, exuding an effortless confidence that sent a rush of admiration through her.

The fabric stretched over his defined form as he moved, and Nara couldn't help but appreciate the way he carried himself—each step purposeful, each motion fluid, as he belonged here. She had to appreciate that. 

The familiar lightness she felt around him shifted into something more challenging, more exhilarating.

She shook her head, dispelling the momentary distraction. Today was about focus—about proving herself and her team. Yet, a part of her couldn’t shake the thrill that accompanied the sight of him. Out of all the people who could have been distracted by the other team, it was (Y/n) this match, and the realization sent a flush of irritation to her cheeks.

She cursed at herself internally, frustration bubbling up like hot steam. 

The weight of the moment pressed on her shoulders, and she could feel her teammates’ expectant gazes on her, waiting for her to lead. She took a deep breath, inhaling the sharp scent of freshly cut grass mixed with the faint tang of sweat. She needed to refocus, to channel that electric energy into the game ahead instead of letting it distract her.

As she straightened her posture and returned her gaze to the coaches, she vowed to herself: No more distractions (even if he it did look good in blue). It was time to show the boys what she and her team could accomplish.

taglist: ppl if you wanna be added just lmk <3

[curiouspupsicle]

Good Omens Fan Fiction Friday (1/24/25) - "Animal Shenanigans" Fics - part 2

I had so many lovely fics featuring Aziraphale and Crowley with animal friends, I had to break it into two parts.

Click here to see my first post. And you'll find all my past recommendations here. Once again, I'll start with a puppy story. How could I do anything else? On his lunch break, Crowley sees a beautiful Samoyed off-leash in the park. The dog is beautiful. But his person turns out to be even more so. So Crowley devises a scheme to meet cute with the dog's handsome person by attracting the pup with a ham sandwich. Organically Sourced Serotonin (T) is by KissMyAsthma and leukozyna.

One of the funniest fics I've ever read is You Don't Need a License for That (M) by @waitingtobebroken. Crowley works in the town's licensing bureau. Aziraphale comes in for a business license. Then returns several times for increasingly ridiculous licenses--including one for an exotic animal. It's ridiculously silly and made me laugh out loud throughout.

In the charming meet-cute story by @itsscottiesstark, Love me Good (E), Crowley admires the beautiful cat across the way and leaves a message in the window for their person. This leads to an interesting correspondence and more.

The illustrated tale, Purrchance to Dream (M) by @ukcalico and @vavoom-sorted-art is an angsty account of Crowley being followed by a mysterious, fluffy white cat after Aziraphale returns to heaven. This WIP is currently on hiatus. But the story and beautiful art make it worth checking out. And perhaps leaving a comment for the writer and artist sharing your appreciation for their work so far.

The Grass is Always Greener (M) by @beerok23 has Mr. Brown and Crowley competing for Aziraphale's affections. Alternating POV includes some by Crowley's cat, Comma. Of course, Comma is the one with the brain cell.

Dog lovers, in particular, will adore When Harry met Bentley (T) by @doomed-spectacles. Crowley has a nervous, retired racing greyhound. Aziraphale has a basset hound. They meet at the dog park when Aziraphale offers shelter under an umbrella during a sudden rainstorm. Vavoom. Excellent banter. Fluffy enough that you'll need a pet fur tool to clean up after reading. I loved it!

Azeutrecia tells a silly story in the correspondence between the new Supreme Archangel and Crowley. In The Kids Are All Right (T), Aziraphale is incensed to find that Crowley has moved on without him and is living in the country with all his girls.

In Slinky Snakes (T), my perennial favorite, AppleSeeds, tells the story of the magician Aziraphale who performs a magic show at a caravan campground. Crowley presents reptiles. And he's very attractive. But every week, his snake tattoo is in a different place. It drives Aziraphale insane.

And finally, a new fic just published yesterday that is sweetness itself. In Darling! (G) by @eybefioro, Crowley and Aziraphale move to the South Downs where they are adopted by the town cat, Darling. Charmingly told from Darling's point of view. I'll return next week with more fan fic recs organized by theme. Please reblog. And follow to see other fics I reblog periodically. And don't forget--always thank your favorite fic writers. They're a gift to the fandom.

[silverstar-2005]

Finally watched the big three

So here's my thoughts on each show:

GOOD OMENS:

Been a fan since 2019, my favorite out of the bunch

I read the book too, which was confusing at first but I grew to like it

I love the biblical references, even though I'm not religious, I'm just a nerd lol

Season 1 and season 2 were great, can't wait to see what's in store for season 3 (manifesting South downs cottage)

I love british people, I wish they were real

After watching the season 2 final, I finally started to react to tv shows (the kiss awoke feelings in me)

OFMD:

Binged it last autumn just before season 2 came out and loved it

Made me laugh multiple times out loud (and made me sad)

Stede is my absolute favorite and Izzy is my second favorite (I thought Ed was kinda mean sometimes but I still love him)

I met Black Pete's actor at comic con and he was so nice <3

I'm sad abt season 2 and season 3 but at least we got a good ending

WWDITS:

Finished it yesterday and I need MORE

Five seasons is so much holy shit but I loved it

Those weird Guillermo hybrids were so gross and the two times I saw them on my screen, was too much

Lazlo and Nadja are my favorites

Again, wishing british ppl were real :((

I wanna give Guillermo a hug, bro needs it

I think Nandor needs to talk about his feelings

Idk if I ship Nandor and Guillermo, something about their relationship bugs me (their power dynamic)

If Van Helsing is real, then where's Dracula??? (I love Dracula sm)

[elenthyaolyenths]

One last [WIP+ sneak-peek], plus a personal joke. Just, because.

Ooooh it is hot here, isn't it. Be prepared, it is just the beginning.

Well well well. So, yesterday, I started to draw the sexiest - smuttiest artwork I have ever done in my entire life. There was blood tears and sweat and other powerful fluids implied - coffee, more of it (OÏÏÏÏ dear, what were you imagining?!)

Well, this morning, I woke up and found this on Reddit.

Coincidence? I think not. Time to rise, dear friends. Time to rise.

Have a good day, my dear Good Omens Fam.

<3 <3 <3

hoawly sheeet when did I draw that- Oo

@goodomensafterdark hi! I am tagging you one last time because nothing would have been possible if you didn't help me on Reddit. Thank you so much. See you on the battlefield!

(Edit: Hey, wanna see the final result? It's here!)

[groovynightstrawberry]

Like Real People Do Chapter 7

Rating: E

CW/TW: Minor Character Death, Homophobia, Murder, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Grief/Mourning, Depression, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Inspired by Frankenstein, Serial Killing, Dark Aziraphale (Good Omens), Panic Attacks

Seriously, mind the tags on this one, folks, but also note the Angst with a Happy Ending one.

Summary: Aziraphale has been lonely for twenty years. One dark and stormy night, it's finally time to do something about it.

Chapter Summary: Crowley gets some answers.

Excerpt:

Yesterday, if Aziraphale had come to stand beside him, Crowley would have reached out, taken his hand or his arm, shuffled closer to lean against him. Today, he didn’t even acknowledge Aziraphale’s existence, staring instead at the grave before them.

The gravestone was new. Or, rather, the gravestone was twenty years old and starting to show it, but it hadn’t been there the last time Aziraphale had been there, when he’d stood with his classmates and pretended that his grief was the same as theirs, when he’d avoided Luke’s glares and fled as soon as he could.

Read on AO3

Start from the beginning

Tagging @goodomensafterdark to avoid being publicly shamed.

[sabine-smitten-obviously]

And now i want to find myself a haunted cottage ... to find the love of my life ❤️

I just started this wonderfull gem yesterday and finished this morning. And i am so reluctant to part with it that i even consider to reread it immediately.

So if you are into Good Omens, like Human AU and searching for a kind of different plot - here are my thoughts on a wonderful fanfic from @commodorecliche !

😃 Whats it about?

Aziraphale buys a little cottage and finds some books in it, written by A.J. Crowley. Oh - and there is a ghost in the house! You will never guess who that might be ... But what might sound cheesy really is not. I so loved the authors notes that i will throw them in here:

This is a ghost story. This is a story about the remnants of ourselves we leave behind. This is a story about life and about all the things that cannot be hidden, even after we die. This is a story about finding comfort in another creature, despite the dimensional divide that might stand between us. This is a ghost story. This is a love story.

And that it is. The notes say it all!

{There are minor spoilers ahead - i tried to collect my thoughts without giving too much away, but pls only go on if you are ok with that! }

What i absolutely adore in this wunderful piece:

🤍It is a tale of love told from Aziraphale´s point of view only. Being a ghost story i had goose bumps several times during the first chapters. Nothing too scary, but quite exciting! It also has a bit of angst in it, but mostly it is deeply loving and what hurts is the fact that - well - Crowley is a ghost and Aziraphale is human. There is a natural limit to their connection. I dont want to tell more because i dont want to spoil the story. You should definitely mind the tags before you start reading!

❤️ It is a human AU but takes on a very different plot with Crowley being a ghost. So somehow this is so far unique to me in the GO-universe, where most human AU tend to put them both in the same place - be it rockstars, book sellers, teachers and parents and so on.

🤍Having a ghost and a human falling in love with each other - oh it is so sweet but also ... tragic? Having someone to love without being ever able to touch him? To barely feel him? Crowley is so well written, he is merely an essence - there and at the same time not.

🩶What i really enjoyed is that you will know every character but most of the stereotypes are left out. Anathema is not psychic (or at least it isnt mentionned) for example. There is no bickering between Aziraphale and Crowley. No sentences or dialogues from GO thrown back to the reader. Still everything blends together so well.

🖤 Oh and i loved this fact: Crowley is a writer! Crowley is the one with the words !!! and for once there is no stumbling, no "ngk", no "fuck" no nothing. Most of human AU leave Crowley with "clever hands" but words not so fluently ... (A fact that kind of surprises me often because i am not so sure every Shakespearean Text is really Shakespeare ... right? ;-))

❤️Aziraphale is happy with his body - this is something i deeply appreciate. I have read roundabout 60 fanfics so far and in most human AU his thoughts about himself can be rather derogatory.

🖤Crowley is not the one begging Aziraphale to stay or be together with him - also a quite common theme in GO-fanfics. I absolutely love that!!

I kind of realise now that me writing reviews is my way of parting with a story that particularly got to my heart. This one is truly beautiful for several reasons and i had everything from goosebumps to laughter to angst to heartache to relief to sadness. It ends well, if it is happy is really only your choice. ❤️

This story made me finally set up a "re-read-list" and i absolutely recommend it, if you´re in for a bit of heartache, a different plot and a different version of a "and they life happy ever after". It is a quiet, lovable and aching book, well balanced and still easy to read.

ps: I thought a lot about it, could i do it? Could i fall in love with a ghost? I would like to think of myself as having stayed in the house but probably i would have run. If i had come past this first angst and built a connection - would i have been able to? Would it have been enough to simply love? To have an ethereal connection and know you are not alone but ... no friends to share with, to be grounded to the house, no picnics, no touch? What are your thoughts on this?

pps: if you have read this one, pls come here and scream and cry with me in the comments!!! I dont want to tell too much here but there are scenes in the book that i would love to romp on in the comments!!

[dogslayslaw]

I finally worked up the motivation to finish this. I originally started a few months ago over winter break (late December to early January). I ended up finishing in three days, finally finishing yesterday. So glad I'm done and so glad I'm back.

Also I've been a little more into good omens lately so that helped motivate me LOL please enjoy Crowley

[pancakes-talks]

Made a drawing of nico yesterday night and now I can't stop thinking about that goddamn fic that only exists in my head with nico being convinced by Luke into joing his army and living with him for years on the yacht. What started out as what he thought was brotherly love, being protected and cared for, turns into Luke keeping him prisoner in his own room unable to leave the boat even for battles. This happens after a couple of spars with Percy where they loose to him. Luke realizes nico has feelings for Percy and might be prosuaded to leave/betray him [he's still sore about anabeth]. But in the last bought nico was wounded fairly bad and had to take time off for recovery. So luke keeping him on the ship is a mixture of the good side of him still trying to protect his new found family and Kronos in his ear telling him nicos the key to their victory. [I'm reusing Hades plan of stealing the prophecy] since nico is stuck on the ship he trains everyday with Ethan which he has a deep seated hatred for. Ethan feels as though nico took his spot as Luke's right hand man and knight in shining armor. And nico thinks Ethan's a wimpy and whiny lil bitch. (What's this feeling? So shiny and new~)

Jebus there's so many small bits, little fragments to this story I made up in my head, like this shit goes all the way past where luke dies on Olympus and nico is the kid of the prophecy and has to help sink the knife into Luke's heart. nico is broken having to kill the only person he thought ever loved him despite being used as a weapon the whole time. Nico is forced to go back to chb; he has no where else to go. And of course he has to attend Luke's funeral. And the camp needs to celebrate the end of the war. Nico technically was the hero after all, he gave the "villain" his final blow. But the camp doesn't truly celebrate his return. The day is quiet but the atmosphere is suffocating. Nico hides in his cabin for a few weeks. When one day there's a knock on the door. A camper was sent from the big house to do a wellness check up seeing that no one had seen anyone enter or leave the cabin. The inside of the cabin is in disrepair and nico doesn't look much better himself. Will insists that he come to the big house. When nico refuses will rebuttals that it isn't a choice. The orders are from higher up [he flicks around clipboard with a note from chiron] stating he must be brought in for monitoring. To his annoyance nico complies. Nico is situated in a quarantine room since his stay is to be an extended one. Will says it's to ensure his privacy but nico fully knows it's to keep him out of the eyes of other campers. Not everyone is so quick to forgive or forget his actions and being a child of death rings as a bad omen in the infirmary. In the room He has a bed, a dresser, a wardrobe, and a desk. Not much but it's a cosy stay. They set up a rotation for check ins and bringing him food but it seems most volunteers are uncomfortable in his presence. He doesn't blame them. Some nurses he only sees once or twice. Some nurses refuse to see him at all. He can hear them argue through the halls switch patients with others to avoid seeing him. After a few weeks he only recognizes three that continue to tend to him. One, the most frequent to pick up shifts, being the very same guy to bring him here. Will. He's quiet when he comes in, he'll pull up the chair to sit by the bed where nico lays most days staring out the window. The majority of check ups hardly few words are said. Will extend his hand and places it facing upwards on the bed. When nico is ready he gently places his hand in will palm. After a few moments nico takes back his hand and will writes his vitals down on his clipboard. Not all Apollo kids have the skill to read others but fortune for nico will does. Nico never had many visits to the hospital so most medical tools made him uneasy. Nico is also pleased will never forces him to do anything he might not want to. He doesn't pester him with questions or prod him into small talk. He doesn't touch him without his permission. Will just waits, quietly and patiently, until nico is ready. Nico doesn't know if he'll ever be ready to talk about his life on the ship, or in the labyrinth, or in the underworld, or any of his life really. He doesn't know if or when he'll be ready to get up out of bed and be around other people. But he's okay tolerating having will come around and sit with him in silence. He notices the sun shines through his window and warms up his room when will sits with him. He wonders if he can refract sunlight somehow. He wonders if it's aiding in his healing process at all. -

Okay sorry realized how much I was rambling so that's where I'm gonna leave it but SIR! SIR?!?!! THEY MAKE ME ILL!! SIR!!

I'm pretty sure I've shared more of the Luke / ship life for nico in previous posts so I kinda glossed over it here but honestly if anyone wants to hear about it lemme know

[snarky-synesthete]

A "Season Three" Fic to Heal the Soul

I know I've posted this fic before, since I wrote it last summer. I had a conversation with someone yesterday who was feeling sort of hopeless about the third (and final) season of Good Omens. I sent him my fic and got a message from him this morning. He'd stayed up reading it all night. I hassled him about it: "It's almost as long as the Good Omens novel! You have work today, you idiot! This is an April Fool's prank, right?"

It wasn't. He said that no matter what happened in S3, he'd be able to at least think of this fic's ending as the "comfort food" he wanted...the South Downs ending, not as a "happily ever after" but as a real conclusion: complicated, warm, and human (or at least, as human as two immortal beings can get).

He said he'd wanted to read it back when I wrote it, but he just couldn't get past the word count...but he told me today that if he'd known where it was going, he would have been more likely to start the journey. So under the read-more, I've put the section he suggested. It's not the whole epilogue - just a snippet - but he said this was the part he needed to read to settle his ambiguous anxieties about S3...

(you can read the whole thing here:)

So again – it wasn’t perfect.

Crowley had to teach himself how to want things, rather than just avoid the things he didn’t want. Aziraphale had to teach himself that his opinion wasn’t necessarily the correct opinion simply because it was his own. They were both still learning to de-code their interactions with each other. It was a challenge, after so long, with such high stakes. Still, they were learning. The lads helped. Nina and Maggie helped.

They helped each other, mostly.

The cottage sometimes sat quiet for weeks at a time. Crowley would occasionally let loose the incorporeal infernal core of himself out into the universe, slithering out among the stars he’d once helped to build (after carefully depositing his corporeal form safely in the spare bedroom…it made Aziraphale deeply uncomfortable to leave it just lying empty in their own bed). Aziraphale often lent a hand in Heaven (and, on occasion, Hell). He also spent a great deal of time in London dealing with all his business in and around Whickber Street, accepting with a begrudging respect the records that Maggie foisted off on him as he learned to become comfortable with change. (The ZZ Ward vinyls had become his favorite…Crowley had developed an almost Pavlovian response to them, in fact, as her music seemed to trigger something demanding in Aziraphale. Crowley had learned to hydrate, when the angel put on a ZZ Ward album.)

Still, they would both return. The cottage would light up again, full of music and laughter and all the other sounds of life on Earth. Aziraphale would discover new and exciting endearments for Crowley, just to watch him sputter. (Sunflower was still Aziraphale’s favorite, closely followed by honeybee. Sunflower himself refused to comment on the matter.) Crowley would put too much honey in Aziraphale’s tea just to taste it in his kisses later. Aziraphale would pick bouquets of wildflowers just to see Crowley’s sunflower-golden eyes light up, even as he complained of his bees being doomed to starvation, if you keep this up, angel, honestly.

Aziraphale never did get his favorite old waistcoat and jacket back from the park, after he had so carefully taken them off to avoid ruining them as he fought to Crowley’s rescue. The clothes were long gone by the time he was finally able to get back to retrieve them. Crowley, the darling, had searched online for them at antique clothing auctions and had scoured all the thrift shops for miles, but with no luck. Aziraphale had kissed him and thanked him for the trouble, but told him to give up the search.

After all, nothing lasts forever.

No thing lasts forever.

Luckily, love is not a thing at all.

Love is an action verb.

[alizaphale]

I've been walking around with an idea for a Good Omens AU "human - teachers" slowly taking shape in my head for a while but it was never clear or urgent enough to actually put pen to paper. Yesterday though I finally started writing again and I have this familiar feeling of "I need to write this, I need to see their journey, I need to see them happy in the end!" Yay! I have missed that feeling so much since finishing my GO long fic!

I won't start publishing before I'm not a little further into writing it, but I needed to shout somewhere that I am back at writing. Hope you'll understand! Here's a little unpolished snippet of what I've written today:

"Seems like you’n’I are the only ones left,“ he suddenly heard a drawl from behind his chair. He turned, and his brain needed a few moments to take in the sight in front of him.

[...]

"Uhm. Well, yes. It appears so,“ Aziraphale finally replied. Then he held out his hand. "Aziraphale Fell,“ he said, since he wasn’t entirely sure that Mr Crowley would know him by name.

"Yeah, I know who you are,“ he replied, waving a hand nearly dismissively and ignoring Aziraphale’s offer of a handshake, "you’re the English guy, doing the plays and getting the kids to read. Always catch at least one of the year 8s reading under the table when they come from your class.“

Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure if this was meant as a compliment or a complaint so he kept his mouth shut and waited.

"Anthony Crowley. Just call me Crowley though. Never liked Anthony,“ Crowley continued with a smirk.

"Delighted to meet you, Crowley,“ Aziraphale said, biting his tongue immediately after those words had left his mouth. Make an even bigger fool of yourself, why don’t you, he scolded himself internally. Crowley’s smile widened.

"Aw, there’s still people out here talking like that, ey? Or did you drop out of one of those 19th century novels? Or just read too many of them?“, Crowley shot him a teasing look that left Aziraphale slightly breathless.

"As you might have noticed, I said delighted to meet you. Not delighted to make your acquintance, which would have been the proper reply during the 19th century. Seems like I should lend you some books as well,“ Aziraphale took Crowley’s remark in stride and raised his eyebrow. Aziraphale rarely needed more than a pointed look and a raised eyebrow to tell a student that they were toeing a line, and he couldn’t help but tease Crowley with his best teacher look. It seemed to work.

"Ngk.“

"Maybe reading would help with your vocabulary as well.“

At that, Crowley threw his head back and gave a full body laugh.

"Oh, here I thought I’d have a little defenseless angel as my partner, but turns out you can be quite the bastard, can’t you?!,“ he roared, delighted.

"I reckon that no angel would ever be defenseless, with the heavenly powers backing them up,“ Aziraphale remarked. He had never expected to stand here, bantering with Anthony J. Crowley, but he was really enjoying himself doing just that.

"True,“ Crowley replied, biting back on the laughter. „Angel it is then, and we won’t mention the bastard side of you ever again. Now let’s compare timetables to get those bloody lesson observations out of the way.“

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt XI good omens season 1 finale I'M SORRY THIS IS LATE, I WAS READING FANFIC.

How is this a title I'm now forced to write. Yes, I know it's been a week since I finished episode 6 with you maggots. And today is the day we start season 2. However, I, the Official Good Omens Mascot, procrastinated writing part XI, because I was reading too much good omens fanfiction. Yesterday I do believe I was reading till 3 in the morning. Thanks guys.

Season 1 finale, or whatever I can figure out with my records of the watch along chat, at least. WAHOO.

[EDIT: I'm back at the intro after finishing this post, and I realised this is a very long summary, because most of it is me yelling at you guys. As I typed it I started reliving my rage of last week. Read on if you dare, yes the post is long, and yes the second half is in all caps. THIS TOOK EMOTION. YOU GUYS BETTER REBLOG IT INSTEAD OF LIKING IT SILENTLY WHILE LAUGHING AT MY PAIN. I WANT MY RAGE EVERYWHERE ON TUMBLR.]

Someone puts a message about how Crowley can no longer sense Aziraphale's presence, and again for some reason covers it with black. My reaction is of course horrified, and then everyone tells me to STOP CLICKING THE SPOILERS, ASMI.

So that's what that was. I realise this out loud, and everyone is ready to cry with exasperation. I explain to them very reasonably that while I don't read every message on the watch-along chat, every time there is a black message I assume it's important and I click on all of them to reveal the text.

Realising the spoiler function has backfired, as most things do with me, the chat sighs and everyone goes for a break. Then someone puts another blacked out message about the bookshop, and I react to that, leading to another blacked out message which simply says STOP CLICKING THE BLACK.

Oops, I already forgot. THE SPOILERS ARE JUST TOO CLICKY. CLICK CLICK CLICK. I HAVE TO CLICK ALL OF THEM.

Someone says I forgive you, Asmi. I reply with Don't bother, which leads to tears and threats to stab me. The chat maggots give up and we start episode 6.

There is a random flashforward. I don't understand what is happening, but then again, I never do.

Back at the airfield. Crowley walks in, recognises their hubby instantly, and takes charge sexily. Then the Bentley bursts into flames.

Crowley is heartbroken. No one comforts them. When I point this out (read, YELL IT AT THE CHAT IN DEVASTATION) someone tells me that this is how it always is.

APPARENTLY DAVID WAS TOLD TO THINK ABOUT THE TARDIS EXPLODING IN THAT MOMENT. I HATE THAT I KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS.

Crowley needs all the therapy. Someone says kinder fanfic authors give it to him. LIES, I point out, FIRST THEY GIVE HIM EVEN MORE REASON FOR THERAPY. THEN GIVE HIM THERAPY.

Everyone is yelling about a fanfic called demonology while Adam the Antichrist feels so weird at Aziraphale being inside someone that's not Crowley that he separates them in the First Bigeneration style. Doctor Who is inspired.

Aziraphale like the babygirl he is, tries to girlboss his way through the situation by making Crowley murder the kid.

Pepper FUCKING STABS WAR IN THE NAME OF FEMINISM WITH THE SWORD OF EDEN AND THEN OTHER TWO KIDS END THE OTHER HORSEPERSONS IN THE NAME OF HOMECOOKED MEALS AND ECOFRIENDLINESS AND WHAT THE FUCK THESE KIDS ARE TWELVE WHAT PERCY JACKSON LEVEL OF BADASSERY-

Crowley and Aziraphale give a half-assed attempt at a father-son (gn) talk with the Antichrist as the world is ending. It is a terrible contribution to saving the world. The Antichrist thankfully has inherent common sense, because he wasn't raised by them.

Aziraphale tries to overshare his and Crowley's meetcute and has to be shushed by an embarrassed Crowley who is trying to keep them alive.

Satan is supposed to arrive. I mistakenly assume Gabriel is actually Satan. Which pleases a lot of people.

Gabriel and Beezlebub talk and blame Crowley and Aziraphale (who contributed exactly JACK SHIT to averting the apocalypse).

I kind of ship Gabriel and Beezlebub after seeing them interact for 30 seconds, which for some fucking reason leads to a lot of reactions and yelling. I want them to be together. Which leads to more yelling. PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS NOT ACTUALLY CANON?

Satan arrives. Antichrist disowns him. Through the power of Manifestation, Law of Attraction and Positive Thinking, Adam is now no longer the Antichrist, Satan leaves, none of this happened and the BENTLEY AND BOOKSHOP ARE SAVED.

NO ONE IS FUCKING HUGGING CROWLEY. I'M GOING TO STAB A BITCH.

There is the bus stop scene Crowley asks Aziraphale to move in with him and they hold hands I DON'T FUCKING KNOW BY NOW THE CHAT HAS DESCENDED INTO CHAOS I'VE LOST MY BRAINCELLS.

ICE CREAM DATE AND SUDDEN INVASION AND I'M WATCHING THE ACTING AND I'M LIKE HANG ON A SECOND SOMETHING IS OFF AND I ASK SUDDENLY IF THEY SWITCHED.

THAT'S RIGHT, I ASK IF THEY SWITCHED. I KNEW THERE WAS A SWITCH AND I THOUGHT IT WAS MIDWAY THROUGH SEASON 2. BUT THE SIGNS ARE TOO MANY HERE. EVERYONE IS NOW YELLING AND PEOPLE KEEP IGNORING ME.

ALL THE ACTING IS FLIPPED I'M NOT BLIND YOU FUCKERS. AZIRAPHALE'S FACE IS DOING CROWLEY'S COULDNT-CARE-LESS EXPRESSION AND HE'S QUESTIONING HEAVEN AND CROWLEY'S TALKING HAS LESS CONSONANTS THAN USUAL AND NO CROWLEY SASS MORE AZIRAPHALE SASS IT'S THE SAME BACKGROUND AS THE NOSE-SCRUNCH SCENE AND SURELY THAT WAS AZIRAPHALE RIGHT.

EVERYONE KEEPS TELLING ME TO WAIT AND SEE. I KEEP YELLING THAT THEY MUST HAVE SWITCHED.

SOMEONE SAYS I'M EITHER A MADMAN OR A GENIUS. I TELL THEM I'M BOTH BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT DID THEY FUCKING SWITCH.

I'M NOW QUESTIONING MYSELF BECAUSE EVERYONE ISN'T LYING BUT THEY'RE MAKING ME QUESTION MY REALITY SO THE CLASSIC GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSSING.

I'M YELLING ABOUT HOW ONLY AZIRAPHALE WOULD BE POLITE ABOUT JACKETS AND SURVIVE HOLY WATER. EVERYONE IS LAUGHING AT ME. I'M NOW 60% SURE I'M WRONG.

PEOPLE KEEP YELLING WAIT AND SEE AND TALKING ABOUT SADIE AND DOTTIE I HATE IT HERE.

CROWLEY IS IN HEAVEN THAT WAS HIS DISMISSIVE LOOK I'M NOW 90% SURE I'M RIGHT. I'M YELLING ABOUT IT.

ADAM LEAVES THE GARDEN IN A METAPHOR AND THEN AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY SWITCHED BACK. THEY SWITCHED BACK. I WAS FUCKING RIGHT. I AM LIVID. I AM YELLING.

IT'S VERY EMOTIONAL AND NIGHTINGALES AND THEY TOAST THE WORLD AND I'M VERY EMOTIONAL BUT I'M COPING BY THREATENING MURDER BECAUSE I WAS FUCKING RIGHT.

THE END.

SEE YOU GUYS TODAY AT SEASON 2 I GUESS GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

[wrengrif]

It is time for my favorite game...

Good Omens, What If.

Now yesterday, I read an amazing post by @ishomieokay, who postulated a very convincing theory that Aziraphale was going to end up being the Big Bad, because Supreme Archangel power was going to corrupt him.

Naturally this made me sad -- until I really started to think about it.

What If - Aziraphale did become power-mad?

What if he did become 'You Bullied Me And Now I'm Your Boss, Bitch' Supreme Archangel. Like it would be so FUCKING BAMF. Utterly horrifying, but utterly BAMF. He walks through the elevator, one of the archangels says something snide (my money is on Sandalphon, asshole), and Aziraphale just Supreme Archangel kicks him through the Heavenly Moon Door and makes him Fall. And while the other archangels are standing there, gaping, he straightens his collar and says, "I think you'll all find I have very little use for abusive language. Do keep that in mind. Where is my office?"

After that it's like as it's Lucifer 2 - The Principality Strikes Back. Aziraphale censuring angels left and right. Uriel doesn't get kicked - Uriel gets beaten for what they said about Crowley and then thrown out for a million mile dive. He makes Michael re-do the entire Second Coming. He's punching and kicking a hole in the archangel system that should be filled by someone who is willing to pull on the brakes. But no one does! Everyone is Too Fucking Scared.

The Metatron realizes that he hasn't trapped Aziraphale up there with them, they are all trapped here by A z i r a p h a l e. Aziraphale who is going to burn everything down because none of it is worthy (Aziraphale isn't worthy) of God's Love and they are just going to tear Heaven and Hell down to the nubs in the floor, and maybe Earth too because you know what, none of it is worthy of God (Crowley). Finally, Saraquel has had enough. She slaps the Down Button to Earth. Rolls herself into whatever dive bar that Crowley is in, and tells him point blank that if he doesn't help stop Aziraphale, it's going to be worse than Armageddon. Everything is going to be destroyed down to atoms, even wine.

Crowley gets to do two things that he's probably always wanted to do. One, he gets to be James Bond. Breaking into the Heaven (the Bond villain lair), knocking out some angel guards, maybe even punching Metatron in the face for getting them all into this situation in the first place. Second, he gets to kick open the doors to the Supreme Archangel's office, stare Aziraphale down from where he's seated behind his invisible glass desk (I imagine him petting a white duck. Why? I don't know.), looking forbidding and dressed in a silver white that matches his hair and his beard. Stereo-typical God, y'know.

And they stare at each other, for a long moment, glowering with all the hurt, and pain, and still - still - love that they have both known for six thousand years. Finally, Aziraphale speaks, his purple eyes flickering, "So what exactly are you supposed to be?" Crowley smiles That Sharp Smile, that one that Aziraphale adores. The one he actually fears. Crowley reaches behind his coat, and says, "Me? Crowley. Anthony J. Crowley. And I'm now the world's greatest magician, because I'm about to make you disappear." Aziraphale tenses in his throne, filled with that same sense of dread and can it be, hope? that Crowley is here to end him. Crowley doesn't look away as he growls, "Hocus Pocus, Supreme Arsehole." He pulls in front of him .... a bird cage. With a nightingale in it. Who immediately begins to sing. Crowley takes off his glasses, looks Aziraphale dead in the eye, and speaks in a rough voice. "I forgive you."

And just like that ... the Supreme Archangel crumbles down into dust, leaving behind a weeping Aziraphale.

End scene.

... I'd probably add some explosions in there. Just for fun. Oooooh and when Crowley is kicking ass through Heaven the song that plays is 'Don't Stop Me Now'.