#good omens got the lead now

[purplemoonabove]

You see, announcements like this is why I would stick with writing or reading a good story. Like, you can’t get a good wifi connection with these corporate morons. Acting they know what’s best for the company when they are the only reason business is going downhill

*Sigh* At least it ended nicely. As if almost expecting it 😕

[bahoreal]

shax in the car with aziraphale saying "you dont seem his type at all" and then "sometime in the last 80, 90 years i remember hearing that you and crowley were an item. i didnt believe it then, not really." like she was whipping out all the stops to try and manipulate him and from that we can guess its widely accepted in hell that crowley and aziraphale are an item

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil,

Regardless of if you ever see this I’ll be happy the sentiment was put there.

As I got into adulthood I lost touch with many of my interests and hobbies. Things like study and work seemed to take over my life and I forgot about many of the things I enjoyed that kept me sane as a child.

But after watching and reading Good Omens I’ve done 4 things:

1. Picked up the piano again after 10 years not playing just so I could learn the theme song. I’ve been at it for months and I’m usually terrible at sticking to things but I’ve promised a friend we are going to do a duet with them playing the kazoo so I have to now obviously

2. I started to draw again on a regular basis

3. I started to write again for the first time since I was a kid and found I actually have quite a passion for it. I’d like to publish at least one book some day with my own illustrations

4. I retuned to tumblr and was pleasantly surprised to find such a wonderful fandom who all love this story as much as I do. And I think it’s wonderful you are also here to watch us all adore it. And so that we can send our appreciation back to you and everyone else involved in making it come to life.

The love and care you and Terry have put into it is so clear. This story and seeing how you interact with the fandom reminded me of how important story telling and creation is to the world. And its lead me back to many things I’d thought I had lost. So thanks to you and every other creative out there, it’s easy to get stuck in our bubble and think what we’re putting out there doesn’t matter. But if you or Terry had given in to that kind of thinking we wouldn’t have Good omens! And that’s something I like to think about when I doubt what I make.

That makes me very happy.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Neil talking about the responses to Good Omens Season 2 - from the Neil Gaiman interview with Brian Levine for The Gould Standard (x,x)

BL: The audience that you have built is a very passionately engaged audience. They, frankly, they love you. And one of the reasons they love you is that you fit into what I think of as one of two great divisions in art. There's, or in writing, um, there is: I'm entertained, I'm amused. I may be even enchanted; and then there's this hits me at a visceral level. You understand me as no one else does. You have touched something very central to my experience. And it seems to me that Much of your writing, maybe all of your writing, actually reaches your audience at that latter level. You know. I would say in the former category, sort of my quintessential and beloved example would be P. G. Woodhouse. He amuses me, but I don't feel like he's revealed my inner self at a very deep level. Um, were you aware that you were going to be able to achieve that? Um, that this is something... was it a startling thing when people began coming up to you, who'd read your work and said, this means so much to me?

Neil: Yeah. It was huge. And it wasn't expected. I... if I had a mountaintop I was heading towards, it was gonna be P. G. Woodhouse. Um, I wanted to be a proficient entertainer with a clear prose style who could tell stories. Um, it probably wasn't until Sandman that I found... I started to realize that in order for a story to work, I had to show too much. In order for a story to resonate, in order for a story to matter, I had to let it matter too much. And, and I remember the first people who would start coming up to me and saying, um, you, you know, your, your Sandman comics got me through the death of a loved one. Your death character got me through my child's death, through my parent's death, through my partner's death, through my friend's death. Um, and that left me kind of amazed. I'm like, well, I didn't write it to do that. I wrote it to feed my children. I wrote it to satisfy myself. I wrote it because nobody else had ever written it. And if I didn't write it, it wouldn't be written, but I don't think I wrote it to give you what you've taken from it. And I spent really about 20, 25 years feeling awkward about that. And then my father died, in March 2009, and never got to cry about it. Never... I, you know, I've, I've got on a plane and I went to the UK and dealt with the funeral stuff and organized all of that stuff and came back and go toff the plane and went and did Stephen Colbert's Colbert Report and wearing the funeral suit because and that was all I had with me and carried on. And then, somewhere in the middle of summer, I was reading a friend's script. They'd sent me a script and said, can you look this over? And I'm reading it, and on page 20, the lead character meets somebody, and on page 26 maybe, she's dead, and I burst into tears. And I'm bawling. I am sobbing. It is coming out of me in giant racking waves. And I realized that it's everything that I'd been, hadn't let myself feel, or hadn't been able, hadn't stopped enough to let myself feel, was suddenly being given permission to feel by the death of a fictional person who I'd met six pages earlier, ia script. And I thought that... and it was huge for me, and I thought, okay, that's that thing that people are talking about sometimes, when they come tome and they say, you, you did this. So right now, I'm in this weird, wonderful place where I think a lot of people in Good Omens Season 2 thought they were signing up for the P.G. Woodhouse, and didn't know that, no, no, no, you've, you've signed up for the whole thing. You've signed up for the feelings. You've signed up for the emotions. I... it is my job to make you care and to make you feel and to feel things you haven't felt before. And which meant that the first week or so after Good Omens came out, I was getting angry, furious, deeply upset messages on every possible social medium telling me that I had betrayed people, and it was awful, and they couldn't stop crying, and why would I do that to them, and did I hate them? And they hated me. And then a weird sort of phenomenon happened as people would watch the show again. And again. And now they started to know, okay, this is where it's gonna go, this is what's gonna happen, this is how it works. And they started realizing that they were actually feeling things, and that was good. And that they were caring about two people who don't exist. You know, I made them up, and then and Terry Pratchett made them up, and then, um, David Tennant and Michael Sheen gave them life, and then they get to walk around on a screen and you know they don't exist, but you can cry for them, you can love them, they can make you laugh, they can make you exult, and most important of all, they can make you care. And the number of people who are now writing to me, saying, 'This was so important to me. This has changed my life. This makes me feel like I belong. This makes me feel like I can cope. And it's let me sort of find myself. P. S. I hope you get to do Season Three.' is, is huge.

[greatstormcat]

Of Wolf And Man - Part 1

Poly TF141 x f!reader Werewolf AU

Series Masterlist

TW: MDNI 18+, suggestive themes

Spring

It had broken your heart when you got the news that your Great Aunt Annie had passed away, but the shock came when you learned that she had left everything she had in the world to you in her will. This included, most significantly, the little cottage that she had spent her entire life in. It was a place you knew well, and loved dearly.

The process of taking over her estate took months, but finally the day came where it was officially yours. You took a year’s leave of absence from your job, sadly helped by a recent incident that had taken its toll on your mental health, and uprooted yourself to move to the cottage. The goal was to spend a year doing the place up and then return to your normal life.

Getting there wasn’t easy, the tracks through the forest to reach it were narrow so only a small moving van could reach it while you stopped in the nearby town in your crappy little car to stock up on supplies. You remembered the town from your childhood visits, and nothing seemed to have changed in all these years. You headed into the small supermarket, loading up with food and cleaning supplies.

“You’re not from around here, sweetie,” the lady at the till says to you as she takes payment for the bags of food, cleaning products and other items you’d purchased.

“No,” you smile back kindly. “I’ve just moved here, I am living in my aunt’s cottage as she left it to me in her will.”

“Oh! You’ve taken over Annie’s cottage! I remember you when you were little, haven’t seen you in years. I’m so sorry for your loss, she was a good woman. Good for you moving in there though, getting back to nature’s good for your health,” she chuckles and makes idle chat about your aunt while you finish up. You can’t help but feel this is a good omen of things to come as you load everything into the back of your car, heading out of town into the watery afternoon light as you head to the cottage. You hadn’t been here in a long time, and you felt guilty about that. The single track road winds through the forest, over small streams and twisting back on itself several times until you drive into a clearing.

It is a little thatched roof cottage built so long ago no records existed of when it first appeared. The rough hewn rocks making up its walls are dusted with moss and make it look as though it had been grown from the earth rather than been constructed by human hands. There were two low beamed floors inside, with a bedroom and small bathroom upstairs and a living area with a small kitchen and open fireplace downstairs. In front of it a beautiful wild flower meadow stretched out like a soft blanket.

Beyond the meadow was a dense and gnarled forest of oaks and sycamores, leading up to rolling hills beyond. There was electricity and running water now, both recent additions, but no phone line or internet. It was perfect.

The chill of winter still hung in the air as you waved away the last of the removal vans, and you stood on the simple porch at the front of the single story building on your own for the first time. The silence once the noise of the engine receded was heavenly.

You spent the rest of the day unpacking and arranging your belongings, working around your Aunt’s furniture inside, until the light faded outside and night fell. Memories come back as you move through the building, times when you’d stayed here for weeks during the school holidays as a child, running across the meadow, picking flowers and climbing the trees. It was a happy time and you look forward to reclaiming that feeling again.

As evening darkens the sky you settle down by the fire. The logs in the fireplace crackle and snap, the warmth and light filling the space around you is as far away from the harshness of your old flat in the city as possible. There’s almost total silence outside the cabin, save for the odd rustle of the trees and the calling of an owl in the darkness. You pull the blanket around your shoulders and shuffle further down into the softness of the sofa, sipping at the hot tea in your mug.

The bubble of peace is pierced sharply by a mournful howl in the distance, and you sat bolt upright, nearly spilling your drink everywhere. With a huge grin you bolted to the front door, throwing it open and standing there, blanket draped over your shoulders and holding your breath hoping to hear the sound again. Sure enough, the howl drifted on the breeze once again. Wolves. There were wolves out there in the distance.

You faintly recall your aunt telling you stories about witches and werewolves when you’d visited in the distant pass. She had quite a thing for wolves and it had rubbed off on you as you grew up.

As the chill of winter warms into spring you spend time digging the soil outside the cottage to reclaim the overgrown garden, making trips into town to get seeds and tools to replant it. It turns into an intense labour of love and ends up with you heading into town again to get bags of compost to enrich the soil when you decide a vegetable patch is needed. You’re sweating despite the chilled air as you try to heave the heavy bags you’ve bought into the back of the car, dropping the last one onto your foot with a curse.

“You need a hand there?” a friendly, Scottish voice calls. Before you can turn to see who has spoken, the heavy bag is taken from your hands and dropped with ease into the back of the car.

“Wow, thanks you’re too kind,” you exclaim and turn to thank your hero. Before you stands a huge, muscular man with piercing blue eyes, his brown hair cut down short either side of his head to leave him with a shaggy mowhawk of hair across the top. His blue shirt is pulled taut over his chest and shoulders, the cold clearly not bothering him. But it’s the wicked smile in his face that stuns you into silence.

“It’s nothin’ lass,” he winks, and then sniffs deeply. “I’ve not seen you around here before. I’m Johnny,” he declares and holds out a huge hand for you to shake. You tell him your name and explain you’ve just moved here recently. “Oh, you bought the cottage?”

“It was my aunt’s, she left it to me. You know it?”

“Sure I know it, we have a place up there too,” he replies, his eyes sparkling as listens to your story.

“Oh, who is this we?” you ask, trying to suppress the wave of disappointment at the possibility he isn’t single after all.

“Ah, come with me and I’ll introduce you. As we’re neighbours and all, yeah?” You find yourself towed along by his charisma, as though you were on a lead being pulled along by him as he heads into the pub across the road. It’s the first time you’ve been in here, and it’s a low ceiling, cozy space full of dark booths and horse brasses on the wooden beams. Johnny leads you to a far corner where three other men are sitting. Four pint glasses sit on the table indicating that Johnny was either here before, or expected. The men are as big, or even bigger than Johnny and you feel a sudden wave of trepidation as he presents you before them. Three pairs of eyes look at you with suspicion as you approach, and Johnny wraps his arm around your shoulders protectively.

“Who’s this now, Johnny?” One of them asks, sounding a little weary, as though you’re an annoyance already. The man has thick mutton chops on his face, and a dark beanie hat and dark jacket.

“This is our new neighbour, she’s Annie’s great niece and has taken on the cottage,” he says to the bearded man, making it sound as though they had recently been discussing the matter.

“Oh really?” he says, eyebrows raised and suddenly looking much friendlier towards you. “I’m Price. This is Kyle and Simon.” He indicates the other two men in turn. Kyle gives you a beautiful smile, his dark features managing to be even more gorgeous than Johnny, but Simon just looks at you coolly and nods. This man has scars on his pale skin, his top lip snarled slightly giving him a dangerous look, helped by the fact his hood is up on his black jacket.

“Yes, I just moved in last week and I’m doing the place up,” you explain.

“Well, we will have to get used to seeing more of you then. We helped your aunt out and have been keeping an eye on the place since she passed away.” Price raises his glass to you and smiles warmly.

A drink is bought for you, and you’re quickly seated between Johnny and Kyle having a genial conversation. Despite their slightly intimidating appearances they’re very warm and friendly towards you, and you suspect it’s the fact you are their neighbour that does this.

“I heard wolves the night I moved in,” you say excitedly, sipping at your glass of coke. “Do you ever see them as you live further up the hills?”

“Yeah, we see them regularly,” Price replies with a broad grin. “You gotta watch out for them though, they’re bold and they aren’t scared of humans.”

“Really? Then I’ll see them again?” You say with undisguised awe.

“I’d say that's a certainty,” Kyle states firmly. “You live on their territory, so they’ll be around your cottage regularly when they patrol and hunt.”

“Best security you’ll ever have,” Simon says, his voice gravelly and eyes fixed on your almost unnervingly.

“That’s… that’s good to know,” you gulp, slightly nervous of the sudden intensity in the air between the four men, feeling as though something unspoken is being agreed.

After spending time getting to know your new neighbours you return to the cottage and decide to leave the heavy compost bags in the back of the car until tomorrow, not bothering to lock it. As the light fades you change into your sleepwear and eat infront of the fire until you hear howling outside the window. You hurriedly pull your coat on over your thin clothes and hurry outside hoping to catch a glimpse of them this time. As soon as you get outside you see four shapes run from the tree line on the right hand side of the meadow, picked out under the light of the half moon in the clear sky above.

You sit on the bench by the door and watch as the four wolves move across the far edge of the meadow, pausing briefly on a small mound which gives you the perfect chance to see them. Two of them seem determined just to run and fight, knocking each other over and snapping playfully at the other. The other two move more carefully, watching their surroundings and sniffing the air. Your breath catches in your throat as you sit there watching them. Eventually the smaller two bowl over one of the larger ones and they end up getting chased, making you laugh at their antics.

The sound must carry as the breeze changes direction as they stop and turn to look towards you. For a moment you hold your breath as they see you, and you fear they’ll bolt away. Instead, something magical happens, one of them throws back its head and howls, soon followed by the rest. The sound makes the hairs all over your body stand on end, and you feel your throat tighten as tears well in your eyes at the spectacle before you.

All too soon they stop howling and one by one they trot back into the forest beyond.

In the morning you find the compost bags are laid neatly beside the vegetable patch, and you spend a while standing and staring at them, trying to work out what’s happened.

A few days pass before a knock on the door makes you jump out of your skin, who on earth would be knocking on your door in the middle of nowhere? You peer through the window and see Johnny outside, shuffling his feet as he waits for your answer. You bite your lip, trying to fight back a smile and hurry to open the door. His face splits into a wide grin when he sees you.

“Ah, I was worried you were nae gonna answer,” he laughs and rubs the back of his neck.

“Why wouldn’t I do that?” You chuckle and invite him in. He looks around as you walk through to the kitchen to put the kettle onto the range to make tea.

“You’ve settled in then?” He asks politely.

“Yeah, I’m keeping Annie’s things as much as possible. It doesn’t feel right to get rid of them. I miss her and want to keep the feeling of her around.” Johnny nods in approval.

“Aye, she was a special lady, we really liked her. It’s right to honour her memory, but it’s nice to have you here now,” he grins, that sparkle in his eyes again and you feel your face warming at his words.

Conversation flows easily between you, and Johnny is an obvious flirt. You hope desperately that he isn’t just another fuckboy, like you’ve fallen for before, but it hardly seems the case for someone who lives such an isolated lifestyle. Plus your aunt would have been furious if he behaved like that, and would have nagged him out of such behaviour while she was alive.

As night settles outside the cottage you find yourself sitting closer to Johnny on the sofa, the blanket draped over both your laps, knees touching under the fabric. You can’t tell if your feeling warm because of the blanket or him, the feeling of security he brings filling the empty ache you’ve been ignoring in your chest for so long.

“I take it you’ll be staying permanently?” He asks suddenly, clear blue eyes searching your face.

“I haven’t decided yet actually,” you reply thoughtfully and see a flicker of something cross his face. “I have taken a year out of my job to come here and… well,” you pause and clear your throat. “The timing of this place coming into my lap is pretty good, I need time away from some bad things back home.” Your voice catches slightly as you speak. Johnny frowns and leans closer to you, an arm falling over your shoulders in a comforting gesture.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he coos softly, his breath warming your cheek. “We won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

You look up at him, his words almost taking your breath away and the feel of his arm around your instantly calming.

“You’re safe here with us now, ya ken?” He says, his eyes searching your face and he leans into you a little more. Without thinking you lean back under the gentle pressure from him, laying back against the softness of the sofa. Your heart thuds heavily in your ears as you find yourself looking up at him, and you force yourself to remember to breathe as the air thickens to treacle in your lungs.

He is almost on top of you, his thick arms either side of your head braced against the arm of the sofa. Your body floods with heat, and all you want is for him to touch you more. The look in his eyes is almost frightening, as though he wants to eat you alive here on the sofa, and you can’t help but want to know what that would feel like. His lips part, and you catch a glimpse of the tip of his tongue as it skims his bottom lip before the plump flesh gets caught on his incisors. A tiny part of your brain registers that they are longer than they should be, sharper than they should be, but all you want is to taste those lips.

As though he hears your thoughts, Johnny leans down tilting his head slightly and you part your own lips willingly. Outside the wolves howl and Johnny pulls back from you with a grimace.

“Shit, I better go,” he mutters with a shake of his head, as though clearing his mind. “Sorry, hen.” He speaks with a tone of disappointment that mirrors your own feelings.

You blink as he stands up, confused by the sudden change and mourning the loss of the almost kiss. He heads to the door, and you follow behind him, aroused and yearning.

“Do you have to go?” You ask, wincing at the needy sound of your voice and feeling a touch of shame at throwing yourself so readily at your hot neighbour. He gives you a wink and touches you cheek gently.

“I do, sorry,” he leans down and kisses your cheek, inhaling the scent of you hair as he does so and you hear a soft moan in his throat. “I will be back though, dinnae worry about that.”

You watch as he walks outside and down the path, disappearing into the forest. Later that night as you lay in bed, replaying the encounter in your mind you pause and wonder how he finds his way home in the dark.

——————————————————————————————————-

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[prokopetz]

You know, if Good Omens got cancelled right now we'd be two for two on serial television adaptations of Neil Gaiman novels which end on an unresolved cliffhanger with one of the leads in terrible danger.

[andsomemaniacgotridofthewheel]

There are a couple of things about Aziraphale that I think we, as a fandom*, focus too much on and get it slightly wrong in the process.

*= I am talking about the regular Good Omens fandom and Aziraphale fans here, not including the Aziraphale haters, who can skip this post because they wouldn't care or understand anyway.

First of all, yes, Heaven is an abusive work environment. The angels in charge are bullies, while Aziraphale is a sweet little cinnamon roll. Absolutely no question there.

And yes, Aziraphale is scared that his relationship with Crowley is discovered. Again, elementary, my dear Watson.

But he is always much more scared for Crowley, if Hell would ever find out, than he is for himself. He's terrified that something could happen to Crowley (see Edinburgh leading to the whole Holy Water blow-up). He knows, or can at least imagine, what Hell would do to Crowley, and he wouldn't even be able to get to him, much less help. Maybe not even immediately realise when it happened.

But he himself has been lying to God and Heaven from the very beginning (what he says to the Starmaker in Before the Beginning, about not wanting to get him into trouble, proves that he was always wary and filtering his words carefully). He lied directly to God's face right after Eden. And he always got away with it. We see him getting more and more comfortable with it during the millennia.

Yes, he sometimes still gets nervous when he faces a surprise or a new threat and he has to think on his feet, but he does it. Every time.

But we are tending to treat him like a little scaredy cat that lives in constant terror of Heaven, and I don't think that's the case. In later centuries he knows that he can run circles around the archangels when it comes to Earth, because he is the expert and they are absolutely clueless. Earth is his domain, where he holds all the power. (Or at least, all the knowledge, which some philosophies argue is the same.)

And while he is much more naive than his book counterpart in his belief that Heaven is good and Hell is bad, this also isn't as extreme as we sometimes make it out to be.

He knows what Sandalphon did during Sodom and Gomorrah. He knows what God did to people with the Flood. He knows what God did to Job. He was told - or is telling himself - it was just, and even that he already started to doubt. With Job, he knew it wasn't.

He hasn't, as I just read in an otherwise rather similar post, been drilled to believe that the Apocalypse is the end goal. He was taught it was inevitable. That it was Hell's end goal. That Heaven winning (what Hell would start) was inevitable - and just! And that was what made him believe that when he finds a way to make it not inevitable, the other angels would have no choice other than to support him, that God herself would want to support him, because they're supposed to be the good guys. And when he learns that that is not the case, he still immediately goes on to do it by himself. He isn't unsure, after he stepped into the circle, when the military angel tries to draft him for the war, or pondering what he should do. He spends the whole time trying to figure out how to get back to earth, and when he discovers a possibility, he doesn't even hesitate for a second.** And when he leaves Earth to take the job as the Supreme Archangel, he does so because he believes he can change it into what he still thinks it should be, knowing full well what it is.

Now I, personally, am not with the nihilistic / resigned Gen-Z crowd who seem to think that trying to change things is stupid, because only violent revolutions and total destruction of existing structures could achieve any real change, and that Aziraphale somehow has to apologise for believing otherwise and trying. (?) Maybe that's because as an elder millennial I can rest in the knowledge that I won't be around when our planet becomes uninhabitable, or maybe it's because I was actually alive to witness the collapse of the USSR, which, incidentally, was pretty much the same time at which Good Omens was written.

Which brings me to my next point.

I don't want to take anything away from fans who relate to Aziraphale because they themselves have experienced religious trauma. He is certainly a powerful metaphor for it. But Aziraphale the character does not experience religous trauma, because he doesn't experience religion.

The existence of God, of Angels, the creation of the world in 7 days, those are not beliefs for Aziraphale, they are simple facts. He has actually witnessed them, he has worked on some of them himself, he is an angel himself. He knows how everything works (or where it doesn't). He isn't a human who has free will and is supposed to have faith, who gets to interpret and re-interpret and guess at how it all works while forming self-important little groups around it and lay it down as law for anyone who wants to join (or remain). It's simply his job. (Well, job for life, and the whole reason for his own existence, but still his job.) God is literally just his boss. A largely absentee boss, but still his boss. He actually even talked to Her at least once.

For angels and demons, Heaven and Hell are not religions, but simple work environments (with certain accompanying ideologies). In the book, being 30 years older than the show, the two sides are quite open references to the two sides in the cold war, and Crowley and Aziraphale are likened to spies in the field. (Pretty much the only thing remaining from that in the show are the St. James Park Bench scenes.)

And I would like people to start remembering that. Aziraphale is not a traumatized little kid who tries to escape a religious cult. He is a Secret Agent who is walking the very dangerous line of collaborating with an Enemy Secret Agent, undermining both their nations and their ideologies at the same time. (Think John Le Carré characters rather than James Bond.) He is afraid of dangers that are very real, but that he has faced and flaunted during his whole career. He knows what he's doing. Which also means he knows what's at stake. And yeah, that is terrifying, naturally. (Again, John Le Carré writes those kind of spy stories brilliantly.)

But Aziraphale is the fucking Angel of the Eastern Gate. He was issued a flaming sword that he gave away against his orders because he believed it to be the right thing to do. Who befriended his demon enemy because he liked him, more than he ever liked anyone from his own side. And who is basically using the seven deadly sins as a to-do-list. That he has a sweet little face that lights up like a christmas tree when he's happy and in love, or that he still believes in the basic goodness and justice of the world, or that he tries to be kind or at least polite whenever he can, does not take anything away from that.

And for the 2nd Coming in season 3 he will be what Crowley was for Armageddon in season 1: The Inside Man.

**= Here I would also like to add that again, as much as I was disappointed for not getting the tv evangelist scene in the show, book!Aziraphale is still much less naive and more cynical about Heaven's goodness - even while show!Aziraphale's defiance of Heaven is much more outspoken and obvious, I can't actually imagine him delivering the whole "if that's your idea of a morally acceptable time" speech.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

First Picnic (Good Omens One-Shot)

Crowley x Fem!Reader 18+ / requests are open

Summary: You talk Crowley into going on a picnic date with you.

Fic type: fluff, smut

GOMENS: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr @clarina04 @motionlessindoubt @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @florduarte @complimentary-breadbasket @thekirbishow @jaziona92 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you’d asked Crowley to come on a picnic with you, he’d grumbled a bit for an hour or two and then finally caved. You’d known that he would. He couldn’t say no to you even if he tried. He was enraptured by you. Utterly and completely. 

You’d given him a kiss on the cheek and asked him to be ready the next day around ten in the morning. You’d sort everything out except the wine. If he wanted that, he’d have to pick which one. Not that you or he minded that particular task. Crowley was quite the connoisseur with his wines. 

That left you to sort the blanket, snacks and cutlery. Not a problem. You’d spent the afternoon shopping for things that you might like to bring. An expensive cheese, some nice crackers, cheese board meats and some scones. That would probably do you, given that Crowley didn’t eat much- it would mostly be you nibbling on things, but you might manage to get him to try the cheese, maybe. 

The next morning you were waiting excitedly by the door, hat and basket grasped in one hand, and phone in the other. Crowley had said he’d text you when he was there to get you, and it was now 10:01 in the morning. Crowley wasn’t usually late to things, and just as you were about to start worrying- you heard the telltale sounds of Bentley rubber on asphalt. 

You locked the door behind you, settled your belongings safely in the backseat and sat down on the passenger side. 

“Good morning,” you beamed as Crowley took off towards the secluded picnic area you’d picked out for you both. 

“Morning,” Crowley replied, giving you a soft but tired smile. Ah, not a morning person, then. 

You both made idle conversation on the hours drive up to the picnic location, and you found yourself learning a lot of things about Crowley on the way. Namely, that his driving terrified you, and secondly, that he listened to a lot of Queen. Like, a lot of Queen. 

“Sorry,” he said, changing the station on the radio only for it to settle on another Queen track. “The old girl likes her Queen.” He petted the dashboard of his car and you nodded as if that explained anything. It didn’t. 

When you finally got to the picnic spot, you were definitely grateful for the chance to get out and stretch your legs. 

Crowley, ever the gentleman- took the things out of the backseat and set them up in the shade by a rather large oak tree. You both leaned up against it and Crowley broke out the wine he’d chosen. It looked old and expensive. You weren’t usually one for wine, but you took a glass from his outstretched hand anyway.

“For wine, this is surprisingly good,” you said thoughtfully, swishing the liquid around in the glass. 

“Mm- glad you think so,” Crowley replied with a charming smile. He took a sip of his own glass and sighed happily. “You know, this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. It’s quite nice, really, isn’t it.” 

You snorted as you shoved a cube of cheese into your mouth and shoved his shoulder lightly. 

Once you swallowed it down and once you both had finished off your glass of wine, you stood up and ushered him towards the lake across the grass. By the time you got there, there was a trail of clothes leading back to the tree.

Naked, you waded into the water. You sighed with relief as you discovered the water was the perfect temperature after being in direct sunlight all day. 

You waded further out and gestured towards Crowley with a come hither motion. He was powerless to resist and found himself wading in after you. He wasn’t usually one for being submerged in water, but he was so focused on you that it didn’t seem to bother him. 

You swam back towards him and coiled your legs around his waist. Unabashedly, you pressed your lips to his and were met with his split tongue. That was not unexpected, though, of course, as he did like to open up your kisses and deepen them as soon as he could. 

“Greedy,” you mocked with a sly grin. His tongue tasted of his expensive wine, and his arms wrapped around you to squeeze your ass. 

You rolled your hips back against his hands and delighted in the grunting noise he made in response. You pulled away from his lips to press kisses up his jaw. 

Crowley was watching you with hungry eyes as one of those hands trailed under your ass to slither closer to your cunt. He arched a brow in question as he softly rubbed the folds there- asking permission. 

With one hand, you reached down to grasp his own and rub his fingers against your hole in invitation. Crowley let out a very horny ‘ngk’ sound and plunged two fingers inside you. 

Your head drooped back, exposing your neck to Crowley who then eagerly nipped, sucked and bit at the skin until the column of your throat was mottled with hickeys and bruises. How you were going to cover these in the middle of Summer was a complete mystery to you, but you were sure you’d managed it. 

You could just hear Aziraphale taunting you now- “savagely mauled by a bear, were we?” 

The thought made your lips turn in a coy little smile, though they dropped open in a pleased moan when Crowley hooked his fingers into your g-spot rather ruthlessly. 

“Fuck, Crowley,” you whispered. Your arms tightened around his neck and with his spare hand, he pulled you closer onto his lap.

 

The water was a balm against your heated skin, and the juxtaposition of such different temperatures on your body only served to turn you on all the more. 

Crowley’s thumb rubbed at your clit then, tight little circles in just the right way that had you canting your hips towards his hand. 

“Crowley- don’t stop-” you panted, rolling your hips into his thumb, basking in the pleasure he was playing along your body. 

“Mm- no, don’t think I will, Pet,” he agreed, nosing at the side of your throat. “Reactions are far too pretty for me to stop, don’t you think?”

 

You nodded desperately, panting harder as you felt your body readying itself to cum. Releasing a whimper, you knew that Crowley wasn’t going to stop until you came for him. Your hips jerked, but he brought them right back into place. 

You cried out as that coil began to tighten, your muscles tensing all over as you got closer, and closer, and closer until-

“Cum for me, Pet,” he growled in your ear before licking a stripe up your neck. 

You cried out as the coil crashed open, causing you to shudder and jerk in Crowley’s arms. The water lapped around you at your skin and the pleasure coursed through you. Crowley cooed next to your ear, fingers finally starting to slow but still working you through it. 

“That’s it, love,” he comforted, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That’s it. Good girl.” 

You slowly came down from that peak, melting into Crowley’s embrace quite happily. You could get used to this. 

“So- first picnic,” you said, swishing your hand in the water. “What do you think?” 

Crowley snorted behind his sunglasses. 

“I think we should do this more often.” 

You couldn’t agree more.

[celestialcrowley]

This took 6,000 years to put together.

I need to talk about some things — things that are afoot — before I pop. On my (pick a card, any card, shhh) rewatch, I've picked up on lots of potential Clues and Foreshadowing. Shouts like David Tennant, "I want to be heard!" and waves hands like Detective Azirapalalala.

It starts, as it will end, with a garden. Season 1 indeed began with a Garden. The Garden of Eden. I'm going to leave this here for now, but I'm going to come back to it. Neil never does anything by accident. Everything we saw in Good Omens season 1 and season 2 had a purpose. Have you got your turtlenecks on? Right. Let's go. While season 2 had a heartbreaking ending, their story is not over because —

It starts, as it will end, with a garden. Foreshadowing. There was a lot of it. I'll start with two important lines that were said by Crowley and Maggie. Maggie mirrors Crowley. "I'm coming back. I won't leave you on your own." Crowley had to leave Aziraphale in order to save the humans, but then we got, "I'm not leaving him to face them on his own." Parallels. Similar lines, and, in that moment, Maggie took Crowley's place as Aziraphale's protector. “Would I lie to you?”

Crowley does lie, but he promised Aziraphale that he’d come back to him, and he did. I’ll come to you is something Crowley will never lie about. More on that specific detail later. WAIT AND SEE! Season 1, Episode 5: The Doomsday Option "Look, wherever you are, I'll come to you. Where are you?" Season 2, Episode 5: The Ball "I'm coming back. I won't leave you on your own." There are parallels here too. Both lines are similar, both were spoken by Crowley and both were in the fifth episodes. It might not mean anything, but it could be a Clue, and I've still got my eye on Neil ... and his ominous lighter. Season 2, Episode 6: Every Day "Angels are like bees. Fiercely protective of their hive." This line shouted at me. Anthony "Ji'mNotNice" Crowley, while no longer an angel, has the protective tendencies of a Guardian Angel. He is the bee. Aziraphale is the hive.

In the fifth episode of season one, Crowley had been stuck in a traffic jam and then decided he was going to go 100% feral and drive his Bentley through fire. Nothing was going to stop him from getting to Aziraphale.

In episode 1 of season 2, The Arrival, Crowley losing his temper, I believe, foreshadows his threat to Jimmm “ShortForJammmes” Gabriel —

— which took place in the fifth episode of the second season.

“But I was there, and I do remember very clearly the look on your face, Archangel Gabriel, when you told my only friend to shut his stupid mouth and die.”

Right — ready? I threw these in as well because I have a hunch that they could also count as potential foreshadowing. Let's look at three very specific lines. Season 2, Episode 2: The Clue

I need to talk about that line because it appears to heavily foreshadow the end of season 2 episode 6. Aziraphale went with the Metatron to Heaven despite his bookshop. His love for food. Coffee. The kiss. Crowley. Despite everything he holds dear.

He is going along with Heaven as far as he can. I'm going to talk about the Coffee Shop Theory first, which is going to lead right into the Body Swap Theory, and why I don't stand by them. The Coffee Shop Theory We don't know a lot about the Metatron because we've hardly seen him as anything other than a floating head and his claim to be the Voice of God — at least right up until the end of season 2. There were a lot of red flags floating around just like his head. This conversation to start with... The Metatron: Do people ever ask for death? Nina: What? The Metatron: Well, the name of your establishment. Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death. I assume they always ask for coffee. Nina: They don't ever ask for death, no. The Metatron: No, I don't suppose they do. So predicatable. So predictable.

There was a sinister edge to it, and I didn’t like it. Crowley has asked about the name of the coffee shop, too, but it’s Crowley. He’s harmless. Something about the Metatron doesn’t sit right with me.

1) None of the angels in the bookshop seemed to recognize the Metatron, but at least several of them should have. They did see him as a floating head, so why didn’t they know him while Crowley did?

2) Where exactly has God been?

3) There was definitely something evil about that look the Metatron gave to Crowley in the bookshop. Why didn’t he seem to react to it?

The Metatron appeared to use manipulation tactics and mimicked Aziraphale’s speech patterns as a way of convincing him to accept his proposal. He brought him a coffee — it’s no secret that Aziraphale enjoys coffee and nice meals — complimented him — an angel of your talents — used the phrase jolly good — something Aziraphale has said before — and threw this in.

“As Supreme Archangel, you would get to decide who to work with.”

He’s using Crowley as another manipulative tactic because he knows how deeply Aziraphale cares for him, but —

1) He knows Crowley will not agree to return to Heaven.

2) He wants them separated because they are too powerful together. And nothing will be able to stand in their way if they are not separated.

Performs a wibbly wobbly timey wimey miracle

The Body Swap Theory

Aziraphale is a master of his face. He’s bubbly almost all the time, but when he’s not, it shows. I can’t bring myself to stand by the body swap theory because of two things.

Aziraphale made this face when he had Hell convinced that he was Crowley. This smile —

— closely resembles this smile.

This is Aziraphale, but he’s not the Aziraphale we know. This is an angel who has already put his armor on and is ready for battle. This is an angel who is going to fight for everything he holds dear.

The Metatron may have successfully separated them, but he clearly hasn’t been paying close attention to Crowley or Muriel. He apparently didn’t notice how feral Crowley became when Aziraphale was threatened in any way.

You don’t separate the bee from the hive.

Muriel willingly took our favorite murder hornet bee into Heaven. It’s clear they like Crowley, and he likes them as well. There were no signs that Muriel lost their angelic powers, and that could result in them getting Crowley into Heaven again. I believe they are going to play a key role in season 3.

Performs another wibbly wobbly timey wimey miracle…

“You’re just an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can.”

“Oh, I am, but rescuing me makes him so happy.”

“You came back.”

My point is … m’point is …

Aziraphale will always go along with Heaven as far as he can … until he doesn’t, and I believe we will get to see that in season three. As soon as he was told of the Second Coming, it was clear that he was not pleased.

“You’re so clever. How can somebody as clever as you be so stupid?”

Aziraphale is clever, and dangerously so.

And that set Armageddon his plan into motion.

To wrap things up, here’s the thing regarding more on that specific detail later — Crowley will always be the bee, and he will always be fiercely protective of his hive Aziraphale, and he will either always be waiting for him or always come back to him.

It starts, as it will end, with a garden.

Their Nightingale will sing once more.

[bloody-delusion-expert]

HELLO i was feeling creative for once..sooo here have this short Noah fic i wrote lmao let me know if you want a part two

NSFW under the Cut

I was sitting on some random guy's bed again..breathless, sweaty, and freezing i gave away my own body for money again... that guy that used me this time didn't even care if i was feeling good or satisfied during the deed..no..he only cared for his own satisfaction. Just like most of the guys she had sex with..there was just one guy .. Just one person who treated me well in bed even though he was famous and probably could have any girl he wanted in bed..instead he once told me when he finished that i was the only girl he ever had sex with.. I think that was the moment i fell for him.. For my Noah.. And i hate myself for it.

With my occupation, it should be impossible for me to fall in love, but every time he touched me, he was so gentle and loving.. I still cant belive it..he even cares for my own pleasure, going so far as to eat me like I was his last meal ever...

....

Noah, in between my thighs, was making me feel like a goddess, yet he wasn't even using so much effort; he was just gently sucking on my clit lapping at me, and it was sending me to heaven, and his eyes… oh his eyes… How he was looking up at me like I was his everything while I was just a mess beneath him, moaning his name over and over again so that even his bandmates would hear it. Not that i would mind.. They should know that their lead singer was a god in bed...

He made me cum over and over again, my legs shaking and not being able to think straight…

...

Something washed over me…

...

I shouldn't have said it, even if I was just caught in the moment

...

"I.. I love..you.."

Fuck, it could have ruined my whole carrier… i don't know what i was thinking when I said this, so immediately after i came down from my high, i knew i needed to get away from this intoxicating man.. I quickly pushed him off me…and got out of his apartment.

...

Now here I am... Months later, Sitting in this random guy`s Bed listening to the song he wrote…

About Me

…

Tags: @thefallennightmare, @broken0mens

[youryurigoddess]

Aziraphale’s wine

It is a truth universally acknowledged in the Good Omens fandom that an angel in need of a drink turns to his secret stash of Châteauneuf-du-Pape in the back room. He picked up a dozen cases in 1921, and a whole century later there's still some left… for special occasions.

Just to put things in perspective, a standard case contains 12 750ml bottles, for a total of 9 liters of wine. A dozen cases equals 144 bottles, or 108 liters of wine. That’s quite a lot for a single purchase, so Aziraphale — the established sherry and sweet drinks connoisseur — must have had a good reason for it.

One potential explanation is the aura of grandeur around this particular wine. The papal connection, rich history of the region, and recognition of high quality products give Châteauneuf-du-Pape wines a very luxurious status, considerably influencing their price tags. And Aziraphale is known to have standards.

Another one is the way in which their taste differs from Aziraphale’s usual choices: Châteauneuf-du-Pape reds are often described as earthy with gamey flavors that have hints of tar and leather. The wines are considered tough and tannic in their youth, but maintain their rich spiciness as they age.

Since everything in Good Omens has a meaning, it never hurts to run through a quick Strong’s Concordance search whenever a date pops up in a dialogue or, even more importantly, somewhere on screen. More often than not the result seems to match the researched topic, as it’s the case here:

1921: to know exactly, to recognize.

Provided examples: I come to know by directing my attention to him or it, I perceive, discern, recognize; I found out. The general usage of the word usually refers to knowing someone aptly, properly, thoroughly, even biblically. Which might be either a wishful thinking on Aziraphale’s part or just another layer of subtext in this already romantically charged scene. The table dressing, multiple candles, and focus on the lamps with Auguste Moreau’s Young Lovers statues in the background seem to successfully communicate what the angel left unsaid.

Too bad that Crowley remained so adorably oblivious for the next eighty years. At least when he finally came to the realization, he responded with an attempted temptation to another vintage red wine @vidavalor already analyzed.

But back to Aziraphale’s wine. To be exact, it’s a 1921 Châteauneuf-du-Pape from the domaine de Baban. An actual French vineyard from the Rhône region that still exists to this day, even though a few decades ago it got merged with another estate into what is now known as domaine Riché-Baban. According to the local guides, the 11 hectares on the estate are located in the Châteauneuf-du-Pape designation area in the Bois Lauzon and Mourre de Baud districts. At the moment 90% of the wines produced there are sent to wine dealers.

1920s were quite an interesting time for this region, but not because of the flapper cabarets or drag shows usually associated with the era on the Old Continent. To the horror of European oenophiles, right after World War I the whole of France found itself awash with fake wine. One of the worst outrages was the use of lead that magically transformed cheap, acid wine into something deceptively rich and sweet on the outside and one of the most powerful neurotoxins on the inside. People were already well aware of its effects — the poisoning from drinking sweetened wine probably made Handel go blind and Beethoven go deaf, but it shows how desperate for sweetness they were before sugar became available to the masses.

Admittably, it wasn’t a new practice. Far from it — the Romans liked it so much that they even advised to pack lead pans on travels to boil local wine in them to make it sweeter, especially in colder provinces like Britannia. But Aziraphale didn’t buy twelve cases of counterfeit wine for the sake of some good memories of Rome and its many health hazards. No, the fussy angel made sure to get the actually good stuff from the other side of the English Channel.

Henry Tacussel, whose name is mentioned on his wine label, was a French viticulturalist and a close friend of Baron Pierre Le Roy of the Chateau Fortia nearby, a trained lawyer and fellow winegrower from Châteauneuf-du-Pape who established the Winegrowers' Union of the Rhône Valley. Together with the Baron he became one of the founders of Appellation d'origine contrôlée (AOC), a labeling system intended to protect regional products and technologies that is still in use in France and serves as an inspiration to similar solutions worldwide. Their efforts were deliberately centred on Châteauneuf-du-Pape because with such a beguiling name even in comparison to other labels it seemed to attract an undue share of fraudsters at the time.

Soon after Aziraphale’s shopping spree, the local wine producers led by Le Roy and Tacussel began a very long campaign to establish legal protection for the wine from their commune. The delimited area and the method of wine production were finally awarded legal recognition after a decade, in 1933, but it wasn’t the end of the criminal activities on this front. An undercover investigation by The Sunday Times discovered that most of the “Châteauneuf” in the 1960s Britain was actually blended and bottled in Ipswich.

One question remains: was it a purely human affair, or maybe one requiring a demonic or angelic intervention?

[mercurygray]

Dude, the @hboww2rewatch is going to be soooo good.

The Pacific really just throws us into the war the same way it throws these men into it - we don't get H company at bootcamp, or how JP and Manny and John became friends. We're just - there. It's Guadalcanal, and it's awful, and mind-boggling to Leckie in its awfulness. You don't get to pick your wars, and here we are, in the middle of the Pacific, on islands your family can't find on a map, and there's no water and you've got jungle sores, and your mom is writing to ask if you want your dress blues.

One of the things I'm appreciating, watching in this order, is just how much this show anchors us in their families - our three main leads all start at home. (And how much I dislike Leckie's dad!!!!)

We also get a staggering sense of how much they don't know. "Professor Leckie, enlighten us." And Leckie gives a flippant answer, a line of poetry from Alexander Pope's translation of the Iliad - Without a sign his sword the brave man draws, And asks no omen but his country's cause.

One wonders if he's thinking about those words and his country's cause as he shoots the soldier trying to cross the river. That man, too, had a cause and a country. What makes one better or worse? The poets didn't tell him it would be like this.

We also get a sense, so quickly, of how the war becomes who you're with, where you are, right now, to the exclusion of everything else. H Company watches the naval battle in the distance, and then learns, the next morning, that Admiral Turner and the Navy have all left. Their war has just become very, very small.

And by the end of the episode, where they're all reading letters from home, you (and Leckie) realize just how far away from home they really are. Dress blues. Birthdays. Incredible.

[sadlynotthevoid]

Once I had this dream about a modern lcf AU where Lily was like 13~14yo and somehow got involved into an otome-novel-ish type of drama. What I mean is: some girl at school was going around acting like she was such a sweetheart and making others believe Lily was a mean rich girl who bullies her.

She was very sad because a lot of people, including some friends, actually fell for it and treated her as if she was a villain. More and more people avoided her and frowned when they saw her. People who she used to play and chat now talked bad about her. And only a few close friends seemed to believe in her and treat her kindly.

She's brave and bold, but she feels really lonely right now.

And she didn't know how to tell her family. She hasn't heard that any of them had had such a problem before. What if they don't understand? (What if they don't believe her?)

One day, Cale (the original one) entered into her room while she was crying after a bad day. His brain's alarms started to sound. Whom the fuck hurt his little sister? She's a good kid who only wants to train with swords and eat sweets.

So he sat next to her and comforted her, softly humming a song. It felt so nostalgic (though she's not sure why) that Lily ended up spilling out everything. He promised things were going to get better. Then proceeded to distraught her with a gift and a promise to sparr with her.

It was Friday at that moment. On Monday, Lily went back to school just to find out everyone acting strange. Not bad, just strange.

When she asked, her classmates explained that the troublesome girl's mother had carried her from house in house to confess the truth during the weekend. She and her mother were at the headmaster's office at the moment.

Only some people apologized, but no one kept treating her like a bad omen.

Lily didn't know how, but she was sure that Cale was somehow behind this.

Other points about the dream:

-Lily and Cale got close after this. He takes her to and from school quite often. They spar together when Cale is at home or Lily tries new things with him.

-Probably because of the reason above, I remember a scene of them ice skating at an ice rink. They seemed to like it, so hc that it becomes an usual activity for them.

-They take Bassen out for a break when he seems too meddle into his studies. Then the three of them end up sitting at an ice cream shop or a coffee shop, dumming around and ocassionally getting tutoring from Cale.

-I think Cale was on his last year of college here, but he also had a business. I think it was a fashion business but I'm not sure. I don't know why he was taking college classes when he already had a sucessful business, he's weird like that. Probably because he was bored.

-Rok Soo was his roommate. I mean it like platonic roommates, not the vine. Cale somehow convinced him to work at his company after college.

-Ohn and Lily became friends after this.

-The rest of the Henituse family didn't find out about the incident until months later. They freak out a bit before Lily tell them that Cale already solved it. And Bassen is like "yeah, that tracks", which turns into an explanation about his own past bullying situation. Which leads to them connecting the dots. They freak out.

-Cale is walking between classes when he gets a call from Deruth. Half of the campus could heard the "CaLE hENiTuSE, did you sabotage yourself to help Bassen?!". And the "WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT WHAT'S THE PROBLEM?! YOU COULD HAD BEEN HURT!". A few seconds later, it was the whole campus that heard the "AN ACT? IT WAS ALL AN ACT?!".

-Thanks to the people who were near enough to listen to Cale's replies, now the whole campus labeled him of eccentric genius. The general consensus is that he's a good person, too.

-The acting class teacher kept running after Cale, trying to get him into his class after he heard Deruth's last scream. He tries harder after he overhears Cale saying "what? Like it was difficult. You guys are just easy to fool" when his childhood friends asked. Amiru is between the best students, she's definitely not easy to fool.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello, i just watched season 2 and I'm hurt like i need something for healing

It's my first good omens fic so i want a good rec

So please Help me.

I want something with very similar to how season two was and also without the ending

And i like it to be new:)

(sorry for my bad English It's not my first language.)

Hi. Here are some series two alternate ending fics...

Better Millions of Years Late than Never by figuring_it_out (G)

“Yes, let’s” Aziraphale whispers. Teary, achy, and crumbling. Deeply regretting his millions of years long denial. Well, no more. I respectfully reject the season 2 finale until further notice. An attempt at an alternate ending.

love is going to lead you by the hand by mygalfriday (T)

In all their time together, Aziraphale has grown used to the many and varied ways Crowley looks at him. Mercurial creature that he is, Crowley never runs out of emotions and his face displays them all so clearly. Never, in the whole history of their long acquaintance, has Crowley ever looked at Aziraphale the way he looks at him now.

Authorial Intent by gaslightgallows (T)

Michael’s plan to erase Aziraphale from the Book of Life has certain… flaws. A revision of the final season of S2 Ep6, where the Metatron does not make an appearance.

Between sand and stardust by lgbtqcrowley (T)

It’s been 6 months since Aziraphale chose to stay on Earth with Crowley. Now he can’t think of anything better than moving to the South Downs, but what if Crowley doesn’t want to. Meanwhile Crowley is having very similar thoughts. Once again they have to be reminded to communicate.

Promises by Angelica_Tree (G)

Alternate ending to season 2, episode 6. Crowley gets to speak first, and the words he says sparks a confession from Aziraphale. Afterwards Aziraphale tells him about the Metatron’s offer, an offer they decide to use to their own advantage.

Run Back to Me by Caedmon (T)

The two angels got on the lift and turned around, and Crowley stared at them while the Metatron leaned over to press the button. The doors started to close - “Wait!” he heard, and his head snapped up. An alternate ending, beginning when Crowley turns to leave.

- Mod D

[hextechmaturgy]

oh cypher... the wonderful man that you are. pulling your silly pranks and cracking your jokes, hiding your face and name and every aspect of your past, acting like nothing phases you anymore. he works with people who don't trust him or don't like him, because he has a job to do. he recognizes talent when he sees it, he's not here to make friends 💅 better to bring the strong, shady people into the team than create a difficult enemy, that's just simple math :)

but then, for all that he tries to play the part of the heartless wildcard, cypher can't divorce himself from amir's compassion. even when a stranger manipulates the memory of his dead (?) wife and kid to fend him off, and everyone around him who also got blackmailed by her is rightfully pissed, cypher interrogates her and is nothing if not patient, warm, even. he realizes she lost someone and that all this is her desperation showing. after she joins the team, he keeps tabs on her because well... he's a spy and she's shady, but the info he chooses to report back to his boss is that she's not sleeping well, that she won't ask for help no matter how much she needs it, so he's doing it for her. i also think it's fair to say that he acts like killjoy's eccentric uncle/mentor. she's a genius but she's young and prone to foolishness - so there he is. and now this stuff with iso! a guy who slithered his way into valorant just so he could kill omen, a damn ticking bomb that cypher "refuses" to help unless he works for it... but the truth is that cypher investigates iso, finds the truth, and apparently proceeds to convince him that there's a better way ahead, one that also leads omen to the answers he craves. no price is paid or demanded

honestly man, cypher will help anyone and claim it's all for shits and giggles, but really, he's just a good guy. cypher may try to kill amir al amari but that mf will not go down !!!!!

[songbird-of-eden]

A CLUE?! The Missing Death Theory

Good Omens S2 SPOILERS below!!!

Okay, it has been the nocturnal habit of mine over the last 3 days to suddenly dwell on the Good Omens finale and scrutinise every detail in a sleep-deprived thought soup.

And apparently, tonight, my last two remaining braincells fired up their little engines and decided to put something rather interesting together.

One thing that got me when I watched the finale was the book that Muriel was reading. "The Crow Road."

So I decided to give it a quick Google, and realised the opening line of the book is one that Gabriel, or Jim, stumbled across earlier in the season. It goes like this:

"It was the day my grandmother exploded. I sat in the crematorium, listening to my Uncle Hamish quietly snoring in harmony to Bach's Mass in B Minor, and I reflected that it always seemed to be death that drew me back to Gallanach."

Now, you may be thinking, okay, but what does this have to do with anything? And you would be right to be confused, but hear me out.

Death has a major, reoccurring influence in S2.

Yes, we have the obvious coffee shop "give me coffee or give me death" reference (this has a major point that I will get to a little later, but please, bear with me). But that is not the only one.

Throughout each episode, Death has been raised and eluded by numerous characters. In ep2, Jobe's family were saved by our ineffable duo. In ep3, we have the incident with the graverobber and stopping her from calling it a day. In ep4, we have the rise of the nazi zombies. In ep5, our unfortunate fellow from the ball gets thrown to the demons and appears to die, only to make a reappearance later on in ep6, albiet looking a little nibbled on.

And then there's the fact that miracles, as Crowley points out, are measured in "the power required to raise people from the dead."

Still with me? Okay good. Because its gonna get a little more crazy from here. Time to break out the funky tinfoil hats.

So, yes, many of the characters seemingly ellude death, right? Not a big point at first glance, considering the upbeat nature of the show... until you consider this.

Whilst in the coffee shop, the Metatron asks whether anyone ever chooses death instead of coffee. A weird line to be sure - perhaps an awkward statement of an angel unsure of how to interact with mortals. Totally plausible, right? Well, what if it was a test?

Nina claimed to remember everyone by what they order, and replied that no one has ever chosen death. I mean, I would hope so, but what if Death was no longer a thing that happened?

What if our devious Metatron wrote Death out of the Book of Life, considering that Death is a being instead of a simple concept as shown in S1 - and so the Metratron was asking as a test to gauge Nina's response. To figure out if his alteration had taken effect?

Okay, yes. It sounds a little wild, but if that is not the case, it does not mean that something is not going on with Death.

Going back to The Raven Road book, the plot follows a boy in pursuit of uncovering the mystery around his missing uncle. So perhaps, it is not so crazy after all to believe that something, or rather, someone is missing.

Which leads me to another missing creature.

Remember that heartbreaking line from Crowley? "You hear that? No nightingales?"

It was the dagger in many fan's hearts, but potentially held another meaning. Because in the poem: "Ode to a nightingale", the bird is used to represent, to an extent, death. As well as the concept of immortality.

Which means it's disappearance may be signalling a strange shift in the world.

Which brings me to my final point. We are in the home stretch now kiddos!

The second coming. The Metatron's grand plan.

In biblical text, it states that the Second Coming will be a sudden and unmistakable incident, like "a flash of lightning".

Now, where else did we see lightning? Hmmm. What about Crowley's enraged outburst that sealed poor Maggie and Nina in the coffee shop?

Which makes their line an episode or two later even more interesting...

Maggie: "Did it all start with the lightning?"

Crowley: "No, way before that."

Does this mean that events were starting to be influenced and set in motion way earlier as the Metatron began to tinker in the book?

We also have the name of S2 ep1 being called "The Arrival" - a name the Second Coming is sometimes referred to as, along with the text: "For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel's call and with the sound of God's trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise."

So, just take a moment to digest that.

An archangel's call. Well, we've had two of those - Gabriel calling on Aziraphale as well as Aziraphale being called to heaven. Then we have the trumpet that plays whenever Micheal and co descend from Heaven, a sound Aziraphale actually asks whether Maggie could hear.

Which leads to the final part: the dead in Christ will rise.

People are not dying as they should, be it from the influence of our ineffable duo, or perhaps, it is the Metatron's plan after all. A way to start the second coming.

Even the opening credits alludes to this with Crowley and Aziraphale seemingly leading a crowd of humans out of hell and through various time periods, but perhaps I really am getting ahead of myself.

So yep. Something is very up with Death.

Anyway. I need to be up in 5 hours for work. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk before the incoherent babbling begins.