#so have your omen here

[ghoulwritesvalorantbois]

Hihi!! I was wonder if I could get a omen x fem reader one shot where the reader is in a almost fatal accident during a mission? No pressure tho, and have a good day :D

I won't mention why this took so long, but it did and I'm sorry for that. Second, I listened Slipknot while writing this one. Ohom- anyways. Warnings: Blood, talking about guns and shooting, classic valorant shit, omen being omen, reader gets injured and it's giving me weird lovely vibes. Chamber is only mentioned here so no worries about him. Word Count: 609 (get it? haha- ok sorry.) ----- Sweat poured down from your head, eyes looking everywhere for that damn soldiers. You knew they took their guns out, and there was no chance that you would be getting out of the situation alive. So you reasoned, pointing your gun at your side and straining your body to hear your envoirment. Your head was buzzing so badly, and your hands were shaking from adrenalin. Why did you accept this mission? You had the option of saying "no," or declining the mission, but Omen was going to accompany you, so you felt safe doing it. Your earbud was long gone while you were killing some soldiers inside the empty factory. The walls were cracked, and the darkness of the empty open space made your eyes open more. You couldn’t communicate with Omen, and you didn't know where he was. You wish you had your earbuds right now so you could hear anything comforting from him; even a damn order would suffice. "Hands on the air!" You quickly turned around to see a soldier, a short man with his boots on the ground and his gun pointed at you.You had a bad feeling that you couldn't explain. "Y/N carefull!" "Omen?! ngh!-" There were gunshots and a heavy ringing that you couldn't explain. First, you felt too heavy, almost like something hit you with full force, then you couldn’t feel your legs and puked blood that you couldn’t see very well. Then there were more shots, clawing at the floor; you tried to look up; darkness crept to your back; and a mist of protection embraced you. It felt cold, perhaps too cold, then the burning sensation gradually increased, as if you had eaten lava all day. Turning your back, your hand went to your stomach, warm red liquid covering your finger tips and glistening towards you, and then it hit you. That damn soldier shot you, and now you are bleeding out. You tried to gulp the blood back that tried to go out between your lips; at least, you tried to. Whimpers came out of you like a sing-song tune, then you started to tear up. You thought you'd be safe. How many times have you killed only to laugh about what you did? "We are safe now, and you are safe now." The sound of the phantom man drowned out your sobs. Your eyes fixed on him as he crouchingly approached you until only the shadow that surrounded you was his figure. He looked at you; you knew he did. Even if you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was looking at you. Then you felt his cold hand on top of your bloody hand, which clutched the wound, which was possibly bleeding too much. You were so unsure, so gone, and he seemed to know that. "Chamber will be here soon with the helicopter; can you hold on a bit?" You grunted, while Omen lowered his face more toward you. He looked calm, but something was off about the way his hand got tighter around yours. "Keep your eyes open for me." His arms encircled you, almost in a hugging way. You were so out of it that you didn't realise he had lifted you up. walking away from the mission to only save you. No, he cannot save himself in this situation, but he can save you. "I don’t want you to die yet; you don’t need to live within me." You whimpered again, resting your head on his shoulder and clutching your wound even more tightly. "I don’t want to live within you; I want to live next to you." "Then let me save you."

[camelhaircoat]

got to the end of my re-read 👍

i love them so much

[helfarewell]

Aziraphale understands now that the Almighty didn’t lead him here to unlock the bottomless pit, after all.

perhaps a bit spoilery but this scene from how do we turn on the light ? by @moonyinpisces has been living in my head rent free since i first read it.

[fearandhatred]

you knew it still hurts underneath my scars // from when they pulled me apart. - hoax, taylor swift

[beastsovrevelation]

A complete travesty in the Good Omens universe? Michael not being portrayed the leader of angels.

She's supposed to be the Supreme Commander, and she's supposed to be the boss. I sincerely suggest you don't fight me on this hill. For Hell's sake, the actress has the perfect vibe... A crime has been commited here.

Therefore, I swear to fix it in my fanfictions. General, I'll do right by you. ❤

If you can't tell, in spite of being on the opposite side, I'm attached to this figure. I'm protective of this figure. I'll defend this figure with claws and teeth.

[aziraphales-lawyer]

Literally no other way I could describe it right now.

[castieldelamancha]

Dean cradles Castiel close against his chest, for the first time, for the last time. His legs tremble, his knees threatening to buckle and make him fall, with the weight of the body he is carrying, the weight of his exhaustion, the weight of his sorrow.

He shakes his head when Sam offers his help, he doesn't need it, he doesn't want it, he wants to do this for Cas, hold him closely, caringly, he looks down at him, hidden behind the fabrics Dean wrapped around him, he prays his goodbye, one last time, he heads towards the pyre. He misses Cas so much.

.

Dean cradles Castiel close against his chest, for the second time, for what he hopes won't be the last. He walks steadily, slowly, trying his best not to jostle Cas and risk waking him up, he is getting sleepy too, but he can make it to their room. He hopes so, he isn't as young anymore.

He makes a face when he crosses paths with Sam, who is heading to his own room for the night, his brother doesn't say anything but Dean knows he will call him a sap come morning. He doesn't care that much. He wants to do this for Cas, hold him closely, caringly, lovingly, he looks down at him, smiling softly at the peaceful expression on his face, at the way he nuzzles even closer to Dean, he mutters a "good night, sweetheart", he heads to their room. He loves Cas so much.

[charcubed]

THERE'S NOTHING LIKE YOU & I a Good Omens season 2 playlist

Quiet, gentle, romantic, and a little bit devastating – roughly in story order. For being lonely together across 6,000 years and aching for the freedom to love.

On Spotify Here

(Previous editions: Soft To Be Strong – Good Omens season 1 | Crowley/Aziraphale upbeat song dump)

[spiri-a]

FUCK YEAH GOOD OMENS FANDOM!!!!!!!!!!! TOP FANDOM OF THE YEAR HUH!?!?!?!!! LOOK AT THOSE NUMBERS!!!!! READ THOSE NUMBERS AND WEEP FOLKS!!!!!!

Though also can I just say I’m so proud that we have one of the few non-binary ships on both this list and the top ships of all times list????????? Like I mentioned this before but one of my favorite things about the GO fandom is how free and absolutely whatever the fuck and purely utterly tolerant this fandom is about gender???? Like I love these guys???????

(Gushy rant about the GO fandom’s beautiful relationship with gender and expression down below oops I just started and couldn’t stop??)

Like I’m not ashamed (though maybe a little a lot embarrassed) to admit that this fandom was probably most definitely my non-binary awakening because it was just so strange and refreshing and completely new for me to learn this brand new little talked about side of how other people experience gender, and how they channel those experiences into Crowley and Aziraphale in their fanfiction and fanart and headcanons??? It was to a degree that I had NEVER EVER felt before and it shocked me?? Then I found myself weirdly SUPER relating to the descriptions of genderlessness and the pure careless neutral feeling about gender that I saw people talking and writing about???

And then, well, um, I MAY have accidentally discovered my gender identity from Aziraphale headcanons??????? Oops??????????

And Ive heard of plenty of other people who saw their own gender expressions reflected in Crowley or Beelzebub or Muriel!!!! ITS CRAZY!!! I’ve been in fandoms for years and years, but this is the first time characters have felt so freeing and moldable to however the fandom wants to love them and so so easy to love because we see parts of ourselves in them and parts we aspire to be and parts we hate but can’t help see the reasoning behind and it just makes everything feel so…..close???? Like these characters were made to be the furthest from basic stock characters they could, and they were made with a little extra room left over in them for the fandom to take and fill and make their own?????

I don’t even know where I’m going with this but I guess my point is: Dear Good Omens fandom, I FREAKING LOVE YOU??????? The pure and open freedom you allow people to express themselves and mold this story and these characters into a million different wonderful things is the most awe inspiring thing, and I never thought such a massive fandom would feel so welcoming and tolerant and flexible and fluid and expressive and diverse and AGGGHGAHAHGHH EVERYTHING I GUESS

God I really hope no one reads this cause this is probably the gayest shit I’ve ever written. I just wanted to celebrate but then it turned into a rant of the secret private super duper uber gay reason I love this fandom.

Oh well

[sentientsky]

hi!! this is a silly little Christmas ficlet i promised to @tangerine-ginger a while ago (and by "silly", i mean very very angsty! hahaha. i am incapable of writing fluff, it seems). sorry it took so long, btw; i got distracted, but i managed to throw it together tonight! :-)

The view from Heaven isn’t so bad, if you know where to look. The globe that sits in the foyer is nice enough. But if you, like Aziraphale, happen to be the Supreme Archangel of Heaven…well then, that comes with a couple of choice benefits. One of these benefits happens to be the ability to open a window’s view into various corners of the universe—to tear a hole through the side of the silver sheet between worlds and peer through, like a bird skimming the length of a wave with its wings. In this story, however, there is no wave; no ocean or seagull feather kissing the bright edge of seafoam. No, in this story, there’s just an angel and a demon, both holding bloodied wounds, pretending the ichor isn’t soaking their clothes silver-gold with the shape of want. That their hands aren’t shaking. That the ground has felt entirely solid since that moment on the street with the lift and the car and the wall he built between them.

Aziraphale leans forward. The gap between realms opens into the unsteady kaleidoscopic sway of downtown Soho. He adjusts the corner of his collar. He watches, and he aches. —

In the bustle and sway of Soho’s beating heart, Crowley finds himself unsteady under the heat of iridescent lights. Each Christmas, the West End of London had opted for large, glittering installations—models of whales and fish and seahorses, all lit up from within like glowworms trapped in jars. Even now, a jellyfish sways, soft pink and faintly clinking in the night, like a vaguely sentient thing. It’s surreal, really, the buzz of lights and the onslaught of holiday shoppers making it feel nearly claustrophobic. Crowley shivers and adjusts the cuffs of his blazer. His coat does little to keep the cold out, his corporation all raw nerve endings and shuddering, bleeding heart. Throughout the past however many millennia, this time of year had been all soft whispers and apple cider clutched between hands; all hot breath blooming into clouds in the December chill—the indirect touch of their mingled speech; all heavenly shoulders brushing hellish ones as they teetered through cobblestoned streets, both sloshed halfway to purgatory. The lights had always felt warm and the ground had felt so solid you could never hope to fall through it. In the present moment, a child runs past, a laugh blooming in the air around them. Almost without thinking about it, the demon blesses them. The miracle, tiny as it is, blossoms into being on a metaphysical plane only he can see, and follows the child like a benevolent will-o’-the-wisp. Hell wouldn’t even notice. Heaven—the Supreme Arch-fucking-angel himself—wouldn’t notice. But he does. Aziraphale does, and he watches with breath caught and thrashing in his throat. Something deep in his chest is burning, a spitfire of grief and absence and loss. Heaven is terribly cold. And Soho, despite its billowing flashes of light and sounds of laughter, is much the same.  And with so much space between them, the night has never felt so lonely.

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

I think that people who say stupid shit like "their love doesn't require kisses and sex! They can be in a romantic relationship without it" should enter a relationship with someone who never wants to kiss them or have sex with them and tell me if they still feel the same afterwards.

[poisonouspastels]

Thinking about Rana introducing Groda to other people bc she has to be forced to socialize eventually. And like, Groda meeting Sunny eventually and immediately clocking that he's missing an arm and trying to subtly tug on Rana's shirt almost instantly while being very clearly panicked but still trying to hide it. And Rana eventually pulls her aside like "What?? what is it?" "You didn't tell me he was missing an arm!!" "...Why would that matter?" <- understandably getting the wrong impression from this "Because I've seen it before." "Oh."

And that was the day that Rana learned Sunny's arm was ripped off by Groda's Warden at the worst possible timing.

[idliketobeatree]

sometimes I feel so happy. sometimes I feel so sad. sometimes I rememeber that Crowley canonically listens to the Velvet Underground in the privacy of his car (inner mind) and probably relates to the lyrics of "thought of you as everything I've had but couldn't keep" and "let me be your eyes, a hand to your darkness, so you won't be afraid" like crazy. it makes me fucking mad

[cloud-based-and-rainpilled]

Old Gay VS New Gay discourse is so interesting to me as a “new gay” (milennial) growing up around “old gays” (boomers)

Old gays refuse to adapt to new nuanced gender and sexuality labels, feeling they’re superfluous and not “real issues.” New gays refuse to understand the point of view of a community not that long ago that was ravaged by AIDS and was (and is) straight-up illegal in public to be in most parts of the world

It’s a microcosm of the boomer/milennial dichotomy and imo shouldn’t even exist. There’s always been gay men VS lesbian VS bisexual disagreements and schisms and even proto-trans discourse about drag and androgynous presentation, but I’d like to think with a larger, more vocal community than ever, we’d come to an understanding that we don’t need to be fighting! We’re on the same side even with very strong disagreements!

Tl;dr if Boomer gays and Milennial gays could just rest thinking the other was cringe instead of completely disregarding and getting hostile towards the other we’d be in a much better place inter-community wise. But, to be honest, mostly I just see milennial gays completely disregarding the feelings of the people who made it possible for us to go outside idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[disaster-catalyst]

"he said i could appoint you to be an angel"

he said I could give back the happiness that was unfairly ripped away from you, to see you make stars without fear. i'm directly going against the almighty's decision and pushing past my trauma of heaven for you. i want you to be happy again.

[batsight]

Cherryfall, warrior of ThunderClan