#human versus angel

[shallowseeker]

ngl i love my girl anna but the reason cas was more compelling is that he was arcing into doubt

there is a better post somewhere but cas is confused about his loyalties, lending intense tension that fed the pre-existing themes

EDIT: all i'm saying is there is more natural tension in a person coiled/standing on the precipice than there is in the one already splayed on the ground

[minophus]

Gabriel should be put under a hydraulic press. Anyways. What do you think is heaven's ultimate destiny? I often imagine it completely wiped out similarly to hell, all pale and bloodstained

GODD this is so weird to ponder(but a good q). i think its society would fall apart bc i think there is no way for v1 to get up to it and inevitably it would burn out as well one way or another w previous themes

[bellepochalypse]

me looking at the car as I cross against the light: you are like an angel. you are larger than I and can kill me in an instant. yet you are beholden to your path and cannot stray from the street, controlled by an uncomprehensible light. I, I am free to go where I wish. you may have an automobile but I have autonomy

[controlaltdelete-my-existence]

I really like when a show or novel has both angels and demons but somehow the angels are depicted as a different sort of terrible than the demons

[vampirologist]

rewatching spin the bottle and helpppp. imagine you’re just some guy from 1700s ireland transported to early 2000s los angeles and you don’t know why you’re there with this group of weird strangers in a weird place who are hunting a vampire. and then you find out YOU’RE a vampire

[godzexperiment]

"Are you feeling alright?" Seemed the polite way to inquire about what he had noticed. Without letting curiosity win the approach or concern. Given it also often felt intrusive or raised attention he didn't want to point things out. Offering a friendly smile at the stranger to help not seem odd for making the inquiry.

[codenamejudas]

‘You’re alive!’ Said the Maker and smiled at the aardvark ‘You’re divine!’ By the grace of the Master above We fold our hands afraid of what we've done Fear’s the key to you, thy kingdom come Shake your head and have another wine Don't you almost die Laughing wondering why

[wordsinhaled]

i’m so totally normal about the fact that aziraphale’s last (known) deliberate foray into the queer community was when he learned the gavotte at the fictionalized hundred guineas club (!!!) in the 1800s and now in the 2020s he’s like “grindr? what’s that?”

many are talking about his repression which is very valid… and yet the thing to me that stands out about aziraphale is that he’s actually… incredibly stable in his identity and that identity IS incredibly queer. queer by the standards of heaven AND by human standards as well

metatron describes his “de facto partnership” with crowley as “irregular.” and in fact aziraphale in his entirety is irregular. he likes and makes it his business not only to understand but to be a connoisseur of all manner of things angels aren’t supposed to even remotely care about. food. music. books. theatre. sleight of hand. and more.

it’s the sort of behavior that would’ve gotten him othered, treated as a bit odd, in heaven even if he hadn’t chosen to consort all across the earth with a literal demon. and it IS treated that way - the fact is aziraphale even as an angel has got proclivities that set him apart from the rest of the host (even after offering him the highest position in heaven, metatron still acts deeply dismissive of him… like aziraphale’s bookshop is merely a quaint little hobby of his that can be easily transferred to another custodian, and not a literal extension of who aziraphale has become, full of his tartan and unique bibles and special vintages of wine and the books arranged in a very specific way)

so. aziraphale is a queer angel but of course he’s also queer to other humans. but in such a way that… he had his realization a LONG time ago, and put the matter very much to rest after that. aziraphale is perpetually something like several centuries behind schedule. he owns an ancient computer that probably continues to run windows 98 simply because aziraphale’s decided it should. he wears the same waistcoat and coat for generations because he simply likes them precisely the way they are and sees no reason to change them. but the idea that he doesn’t know how he comes across to others - of course he does. he knows he looks like your prim and proper grandfather and he prefers it that way

aziraphale looked around at humans in the 1880s and said: ah yes. this is where i fit. and promptly ensconced himself in that queer subculture. learned the gavotte. read his austen. loved crowley from afar. aziraphale is fiercely and vibrantly queer. just with the sort of assurance of someone who lives with his lover in a commonlaw marriage for decades and then shows up at city hall for the certificate once society decides it’s ‘allowed.’ like… he hasn’t had any need to know what grindr is because aziraphale’s ‘scene’ was a century and a half ago and it defined romance for him too.

but my favorite thing about aziraphale is how much of him is about appearances versus the truth. he can lie straight to angels’ faces and sleep at night. he knows he comes off soft but he once wielded a flaming sword. he dissembles helplessness but he’s far from it and he knows precisely how it makes others treat him. and at the core of aziraphale is rigidity, inflexibility of ideas… his sense of self is stable where crowley’s is malleable, and so on, and so on

and the fact that he’s continuously fixated on trying to misguidedly do the right thing, the fact that he seeks heavenly approval and wants to fit the world into his schema of good vs evil… in no way do i think that means he isn’t one hundred percent aware of how he feels about crowley or what it means about him by angelic or human standards. i’ve seen some folks saying that aziraphale doesn’t want to like kissing crowley and like… as much as i love me some brideshead revisited/atonement flavored angst; i put forth that it’s not internalized homophobia or queer panic but simply: “i’m trying to do the right thing for both of us and you won’t let me.” and “i wanted our first kiss to be different.” he was envisioning an entirely different flavor of romance than what he got but he emma woodhoused too close to the sun

like, y’all. aziraphale in all likelihood has a glorious collection of historical queer erotica. he just has a feathery diva coat hanging in his closet, and for what. “oh, good lord” he says at crowley’s revolutionary outfit in the bastille, while eyeing him up like an entire meal. he’s so good at affected propriety, at carefully constructed stuffiness, but between the two of them aziraphale’s got to be the one who has experience

aziraphale had been physically throwing himself at crowley the entire season. he orchestrated an entire regency ball so they could touch hand to hand. he spends the entire season (well, and season 1) looking at crowley like he’s particularly coveted. he looked at crowley before the fall like he was glorious and beautiful. aziraphale’s queer and he knows it and i think that isn’t his problem, it’s the fact that he wants to build a different sort of future for the two of them but crowley’s gone and thrown a wrench in it by reminding him of everything he can finally have. like. that’s the heartbreak. it’s how dare you make this ugly? i forgive you for our first kiss being all pain and salt. it’s my dearest, i wanted to make heaven as beautiful as you deserve. as sacred and safe for us as our bookshop. and i can do that for us, because once i held a flaming sword and i still remember how the hilt felt in my hands. and now the taste of you is in my mouth.

[inkskinned]

how many times can you live through the apocalypse?

when you were little there was this beach that was free to go to. you didn't really like it on account of the litter. at one point, a white bag caught around your ankle, and for a moment (fish child), you panicked about jellyfish. on the foam, the red-pink words read thank you, stacked on top of each other, tangled in the kelp.

they have a new program (three thousand american dollars) to send your dead relative to the moon. there is a lot of evidence that our local orbit is becoming ever-more dangerously populated with "micro" satellites - debris in a round miasma becoming a thick web above us. maybe angels cannot hear us through the pollution.

you used to picture deep space like a thick membrane, or a blanket. someone said to you once the universe has no edge and that fucked with you for a long time, trying to picture what shape infinity has. your coworker is writing a short story about ecological collapse, which she is submitting for a little side-money so she can survive the current economical collapse.

the birds haven't gone to sleep this winter. that is probably bad. something that actually freaks you out is the natural temperature of human bodies versus the survival temperature of certain fungi. there is a podcast called s-town, in which a man kills himself over climate anxiety. he was probably meant to seem sort of unhinged. it just seems like it is becoming increasingly clear he was being honest.

space is not empty, we have put our dead into the stars. at some point they will figure out how to put ads into our sleep. you need to pay for the greenlife subscription service to be able to save the world.

there is a lot of ways this poem ends. but you have been wearing the same jeans and shirts since you were, like, 18. it is a hard life, sometimes, watching the entire foundation crack. there was this one moment over the summer, where you were shaking with heat exhaustion and dehydration. you were offered a nestle water bottle.

for three thousand dollars, you can send your ashes into space.

instead, you wash out the peanut butter jar. you put the avocado-toothpick spiked seed ball into water (even though they never grow very far). you borrow what you do not want to buy. you pick up any litter you find. you do not have a lot of control, really. but where you do - if there is one thing you can do, you do it.

something about that. you need to believe that must be true for the rest of humanity. or maybe - you need to believe that to be true, or else there will not be a rest of humanity.

[stainedglassthreads]

Saw someone mention something about 'of course Gabriel would get along with a demon, he's an awful person--' and no no no you're missing the point. Like yeah, he does suck and has been awful to Aziraphale, but he's not Uniquely Awful, nor is that the reason he gets along with Beelzebub. He gets along with Beelzebub because they are fundamentally the same, because there is no difference between angels and demons in Good Omens.

One of the things reiterated again and again in the book Good Omens is how Heaven and Hell is fundamentally the same. It's noted that demon wings are not black, but white, and during what while the showdown between Adam and Satan in the series, all the angels and demons actually appear on earth and square off against each other--and the narration specifically says that you couldn't tell the angels apart from the demons. That's why Gabriel and Beelzebub get the same complaints from both Heaven and Hell about how hard it is to get the angels and demons to back down from a war, that's why Crowley says at the end of season 1 that the real Armageddon will be the combined hosts of Heaven and Hell versus humanity. It's why it was mentioned, when talking about season 1, that Heaven and Hell were envisioned as being the upper floors and basement of the same basement--is why the methods to get to both places are always in the same location! The escalators and the elevator!

And that's why Gabriel and Beelzebub got along. Because they were in the exact same position experiencing the exact same difficulties and complaints, and because they the exact same amount of actual care for Heaven and Hell--precisely zero. They fell in love because they're similar, but at the end of the day, all the angels and demons are 'similar', because the demons used to be angels too! Which we are reminded, when Crowley correctly analyzes angels like Muriel, Heaven as a structure, and guesses that they STILL haven't changed the passwords. Crowley recognizes that Heaven and Hell are the same, and are plagued by effectively the same problems, and so he rejects both. He rejects Beelzebub's offer to become a Duke of Hell, even if it would protect Aziraphale. He rejects Aziraphale's offer to become an angel again. Crowley knows that both sides are rife with systematic problems, and so he goes all-in on our side. And on humanity's side.

[2af-afterdark]

"Would You Love Me if I Was A Worm?": The Kings' + Minhyeok + Angel Answers Versus the Truth

A/N: I need some random, goofy fluff. Please don't look at me.

Satan

“I don’t know.”

Honestly, Satan is the kind of guy who couldn’t answer you because, well, you aren’t a worm. How would he know if he’ll still love you? In reality, he would probably love you in a sense of the word. He would definitely take care of you and kick anyone who dared to get too close to his worm, because you know half of Hell would still be obsessed with you.

Mammon

“My master as a worm? How amusing.”

When he said he belonged to you, he meant it. Human or worm, that will always be true. So, yes, he would still love you as a worm. You would live in a worm palace and have all the pleasantries you could ever desire. He’d set you on his desk when he’s working and carry you around when he’s out. You are not some mere pet that stays at home when he leaves. You will always be at his side and pampered to an absolutely terrifying degree.

Leviathan

Yeah, he’s going to glare at you because the question is nonsensical and really dumb. He doesn’t even answer it because it’s a waste of oxygen to do so. 

Except the truth is that he would be the only one caring for you because he’d get jealous if anyone else tried to. The emotion isn’t exactly romantic love, but he loves you even as a worm regardless. You are his special little worm. He takes good care of you, although he’s not much nicer to you as a worm than he is when you’re human.

Beelzebub

“What a weird question. Sure.”

He says he would love you if you were a worm, but we all know that he would forget about you whenever he leaves the palace for more than 2 hours. All your care would fall on Bael, just like everything else does. He would definitely pay attention to you when he remembers to come home though. He would probably give you apple slices and watch you for a while whenever he returns. His feelings would probably be more akin to fascination than love; like watching a squirrel in the wild, except you're a worm in a terrarium. That’s sort of a form of love… Sort of.

Minhyeok

“Yes!”

Honestly, he responds before you’ve even finished the question. You got to “would you love me” and he already knew the answer. He will love you no matter what. He would want to be a worm too so he could be your worm husband and start a worm family with you.

Gabriel

“No.”

Why are you asking him this? He wants to kill you! A worm sounds really easy to kill. On second thought, sure. He’d love it if you were a worm… For about five seconds before you weren’t anything anymore.

Michael

“How tragic that you want a form different than the one God blessed you with.”

Again, he wants to kill you! Please stop harassing Heaven to ask weird questions. He doesn’t love you now, let alone if you suddenly became a completely different creature. He’s actually insulted by the question. Why are you like this? Yes, he would definitely be fighting Gabriel over who gets to kill your adorable little worm form.

Raphael

“Do you plan on being one? I'm sure I could keep you.”

The man is kind of obsessed, honestly. Look at how cute you are as a worm; truly the most beautiful worm in the world. Man would treat you like a pet but still expect your little worm self to show him affection. He wouldn’t want to leave home and would spend waaaaay too long watching you all day. Also, he would sleep next to you, even if that meant sleeping in the dirt. The man is weird.

[guardian-of-soho]

I think for Aziraphale “I forgive you” means that unlike Heaven, he will always leave his door open to Crowley. Crowley will always have a way back to him, because Aziraphale trusts Crowley’s heart. He believes Crowley can find his way to faith in the Good even after the sin of his despair. He knows Crowley can love — he sees it every time they’re together. He thinks that means all he needs is time.

And last time Crowley did come back to him. But not to join Heaven’s side — he came only once the angel had taken Earth’s. Crowley chose faith in the end not in an abstract heavenly Good, but in humanity.

So now I think Crowley saying, “Don’t bother” to the offered forgiveness means Don’t leave your door open, thinking I’ll be back to do my dance. I can’t tell you that whatever I said, I didn’t mean it. I mean this. Don’t wait for me. I’m not coming to you now, not like this, not if you wait till the end of the world. You can’t offer me forgiveness — I don’t want it while you stand on their side. Remember there’s no Good to side with: it will be all of us versus all of them. If we meet again, you’ll come to me.

[fellthemarvelous]

Aziraphale hate makes my brain hurt.

Like let's be really fuckin' for real here.

Neurodivergent fans have repeatedly said that Aziraphale is autistic coded. I agree with them. I have never been diagnosed but I wonder about myself. If only I could get a doctor to take me seriously enough to test me for it, but alas, I'm a 43-year-old woman living in the good ole US of A.

Those with religious trauma have repeatedly said that they identify with him as well. I'm one of those people. I endured 12 years of Catholic schools and just as much time being taught a very black and white view of things that I've had to spend more than 20 goddamn fucking years working to unlearn.

I find that my views as a survivor of religious abuse are often dismissed because people keep wanting to say "Aziraphale doesn't have religious trauma." Yes, thank you, I get that, but unless you've been indoctrinated and brainwashed into a very black and white view of the world, you probably don't understand the kind of feelings Aziraphale's onscreen experiences evoke in so many of us. Heaven might not be real, but the feelings of "God is always watching" still stick with me today even though I no longer believe in God. I have entirely denounced Christianity because of my own personal experience, and I refuse to allow people to try and guilt me or shame me for trauma that I didn't ask for. I wasn't given a choice.

As a child I was told that God was real and always watching everything you do (just like Santa Claus) and can hear everything you say and knows everything you are thinking. Do you know what I learned to do in order to cope with this overwhelming and anxiety-inducing information as a small child? I learned to censor my thoughts. I never spoke up, and I have always felt like I was putting on a show for people because I had to be who I was told to be or I would get into trouble.

Aziraphale said "poverty is a virtue" during The Resurrectionists, and as someone who grew up in the Bible belt and went to private schools, I was taught this very same shit by the Catholic church. He learned in that very same episode that "poverty is a virtue" is actually a tool of oppression to keep the poor poor and the wealthy wealthy. I know we all watched the episode. He went into that episode believing what he said, but by the end of it he knew it was actually utter bullshit. Aziraphale is not ignorant. He's highly intelligent, and he has never been too proud to admit when he has been wrong. He accepts that the information he learned before is not matching up with reality.

And it's so obvious some of you have zero experience with that type of indoctrination because of how very little empathy you show Aziraphale for his "mistake" of "choosing Heaven over Crowley" and "making Crowley sad" so clearly Aziraphale must somehow be "abusive" and "manipulative" and "selfish" and "self-centered" because he didn't choose to run away with Crowley at the end of season two.

First of all.

FIRST OF ALL...

Aziraphale has a mind of his own.

Aziraphale is always going to try and do what is right.

Aziraphale is an angel. He's a being of love. And the reason he's so "bad" at being an angel is because he actually wants to protect humanity. He has always loved humanity. He repeatedly has to contend with what is "right" versus what is "good" and "wrong" versus "evil". Yeah, he has flaws. He's an angel, not a goddamn fucking saint. He has lived on Earth for more than 6,000 years. He has seen everything. He loves doing human things.

He's obsessed with magic. It makes him so happy. He's not very good at it...well not when he's trying to put on a show for Crowley.

He chose to learn French the hard way, so even though he knows every single language in the world, he chooses to be mediocre at French. Something that annoys and amuses Crowley at the same time.

He loves to dance even though angels aren't supposed to dance, and dancing with Crowley was what he wanted the most.

He owns a bookshop and refuses to sell any of his books because they are books he's had for as long as there have been books. He will chase customers away from his collection, and Crowley understands how much they mean to Aziraphale because he refuses to sell any when Aziraphale leaves him in charge.

He and Crowley have been speaking to each other in coded language for more than 6,000 years. They have to be very careful about what they say because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Heaven has photographs of Crowley and Aziraphale sitting or standing together throughout history. Hell had one photo of Crowley and Aziraphale actually working together and it was Aziraphale's quick thinking and how good he actually is at sleight of hand tricks that managed to get that photo out of Furfur's hands so he wouldn't be able to turn Crowley over to the Dark Council.

Aziraphale saved Crowley from being taken to Hell again. He wasn't able to save Crowley from Hell in Edinburgh, but he sure as heck managed to save Crowley from Hell during WWII. He took Crowley to his bookshop and showed Crowley that he stole the picture from Furfur. He saved Crowley.

You get that, right?

Aziraphale SAVED Crowley.

People always talk about how it's "always Crowley saving Aziraphale" because apparently heroic acts are only heroic when they are grand gestures. The sleight of hand wasn't heroic at all, am I right? It wasn't sparkly and showy. It wasn't interesting enough, therefore not heroic. At least that's all I'm hearing when people start with their "blah Aziraphale deserves to suffer because I have no imagination or ability to understand the media in front of me blah", and all these reasons he deserves to suffer is because Crowley almost got hurt.

Aziraphale did that without flinching and I watch that part closely every single time. He's not scared for himself. He's scared for Crowley, and he managed to hold onto that photograph. He did not fail Crowley. He protected Crowley.

And so here's another thing that we like to point out. The way that Aziraphale, an angel who is effeminate and male presenting, an angel who is soft and full of love, an angel who is kind and forgiving because he has empathy and compassion, is somehow painted as abusive and manipulative. He's not violent, but he could easily fuck up your world. He doesn't use his powers. We have no idea how powerful he is because we only ever see him do small acts. He's used to hiding. It's the only way he has ever been able to protect Crowley.

And I'm not saying that Aziraphale has actually saved Crowley before means that Crowley hasn't also saved Aziraphale. Like, you get that those are not mutually exclusive and their relationship is not transactional, right? They have spent their entire existence protecting each other but never actually getting to be together because Heaven and Hell are always watching.

Yeah, Crowley fell. We all know this. We are aware of this. He was the serpent of Eden. He gave humanity the knowledge of free will.

But what we don't talk about is what Aziraphale gave humanity.

What did he give them?

We all know what it is!

Let's say it together!

He gave Adam and Eve his flaming sword because it was dangerous outside the garden and Eve was pregnant and she was already having a really bad day. He showed them compassion and gave them his extremely powerful angelic weapon so they would stand a chance on the outside of the garden. He gave humanity the gift of compassion. It's just unfortunate that his flaming sword became a weapon of War.

And then what did he do after that?

Ooooh, yeah, that's right.

God asked him about it and he straight up lied to her and pretended he had no idea where he'd managed to misplace it. She didn't say anything after that. He told Crowley the truth though. He told Crowley the truth even though Crowley fell.

Yeah, we know Aziraphale has done some really fucking questionable things. He and Crowley both suck at passing for human in front of observant people like Nina. They're not human. They are still learning, but they managed to experience human history together despite being on opposite sides and their experiences with humanity are what has shaped them into the compassionate and loving duo they are now. One of them is not better from the other.

This, my friends, is what we call meeting in the middle. It's why shades of gray is so important. Aziraphale constantly breaks the rules. Crowley refused to play by Heaven's rules. It's the reason he fell. He doesn't play by Hell's rules either. These two dorks figured out how to cancel each others' miracles out throughout human history in order to have more time learning about humanity and each other because working all day every day sucks when there are so many new things to learn and experience with the people you love.

We know Crowley and Aziraphale both love each other. Neither of them are good at hiding the hearts stars in their eyes.

But here's what's really fucking annoying about the Aziraphale hate.

Aziraphale was already crying when Crowley grabbed him and kissed him. Aziraphale is trying so very hard to do the right thing. He loves Crowley. He does. But he also has a duty to humanity, and he has taken that job very seriously since the creation of Adam and Eve. He sent them out into the world with a flaming sword so they would have a chance at surviving beyond the walls of the garden.

And he knows that Something Terrible is going to happen and he spent all of second season trying to figure out what that Something Terrible was while trying to have some sort of more honest and open relationship with Crowley, but again, they aren't human, they are a demon and an angel approaching life from opposite sides who met in the middle and fell in love with humanity together.

He wants more than anything to tell Crowley how he feels about him, but he wants to do something grand for Crowley because Crowley has always been grand and dramatic and sexy and a little bit scary.

Crowley is impulsive and has a temper and sometimes says the wrong thing but he has always trusted Aziraphale because Aziraphale gave him a chance even after he fell. Aziraphale chose to shelter him instead of smiting him while they stood on top of that wall. He knew he was supposed to kill Crowley, but oops, he gave his sword away to the humans so he didn't really have anything to kill him with and Crowley is the one who created nebulas. The Pillars of Creation is Crowley's work and Aziraphale was there to witness that, but he watched Crowley more than he watched the nebula. He witnessed the pure joy on Crowley's face when he said "let there be light" as a nebula full of colors exploded before their eyes. He was fascinated by Crowley.

But Aziraphale is going back to Heaven even though he has made it perfectly clear he absolutely has no desire to go back to Heaven. He told the Metatron this during their conversation. He spoke these words out loud. They exist.

But then The Metatron said this....

The Metatron. The very same angel who told Aziraphale in season one "to speak to me is to speak to the Almighty." He's the boss. He's the big guy. He's used to existing as a giant head and he had to give himself a body so he wouldn't stand out on Earth. And he knows that Aziraphale and Crowley have been working together since the beginning. He knows they worked together to prevent Armageddon in season one, and now he's made it clear he knows they were working together long before that. And let's face it, Aziraphale really wants to know what this Something Terrible is that Gabriel is running from so he can try to prevent it from happening.

It makes sense that he would want to take Crowley to Heaven with him because he would be able to keep Hell from getting their hands on him again. Aziraphale hates it in Heaven. He doesn't want to go, but Something Terrible is happening and Metatron isn't taking no for an answer, and maybe Heaven won't be so bad if Crowley is there with him. At least they can fix Heaven together.

But Crowley can't go back. We all get that. We don't blame him for saying no. It doesn't change anything.

Something Terrible is about to happen and Aziraphale has to figure out what it is. He wants to change Heaven.

He is fully aware that Heaven sucks. He still has faith in God. His faith isn't in Heaven. He deserted his platoon in season one and threw himself back to Earth so he could figure out how to make sure the war between Heaven and Hell doesn't happen.

But see, here's the thing. Heaven is at the top. Heaven has all the resources. Heaven is responsible for the creation of Hell. Heaven is empty and Hell is overpopulated. Aziraphale knows this. Crowley knows this. It's obvious every time we see either place. Both sides are desperate to go to war and will not hesitate to destroy humanity in the process. This is the opposite of what Crowley and Aziraphale want for humanity. If anyone can change Heaven, it's Aziraphale. He's the only one up there who gives a shit about humanity as far as we know. No one else is going to speak on humanity's behalf.

Some of us are so busy getting mad at Aziraphale for going back to Heaven and giving Crowley a Big Sad. Newsflash: Crowley is not the main character of Good Omens. Aziraphale and Crowley are equals, yet we wanna hold Aziraphale to higher standards because he's an angel, and when he makes mistakes it's proof that he's the bad guy.

Holy mother of all things that trigger my religious trauma, let me tell you. I spent my entire life hating myself every time I made mistakes. I've had to teach myself that just because I mess up sometimes doesn't mean I'm bad. It means I'm human. I still struggle with it. I probably always will. So when you say that Aziraphale deserves to be punished for breaking Crowley's heart, you not only ignore that Aziraphale's heart is also broken, you're saying he deserves to be punished for doing what he thinks is right.

Wanting to change Heaven for the better is not a bad thing.

And some of y'all wanna see him suffer for going back into the lion's den that is Heaven, knowing that he is already an outcast, that they have already tried to kill him once, knowing that he is a deserter, that he has been lying to Heaven about a lot of things, and you still think he's blinded by Heaven? You think he's just so naive and that's the only reason he's going back. He doesn't show his emotions the same way Crowley does so it means he doesn't care as much. He's expected to consider Crowley's feelings over his own when making choices. Like holy shit if all of that hasn't defined my experience as a woman with religious trauma in this fucking society. He's expected to be subservient to Crowley and if he doesn't do what Crowley wants then he's being unreasonable and illogical.

What the actual fuck, y'all.

Like seriously.

I'm sick of this bullshit. I had to step away from this fandom because of how toxic some people in this fandom are. It's not chasing me away, but the fact that I chose to hang out in a a more toxic fandom that is already notorious for being really toxic over a fandom that claims to be more open-minded and welcoming should probably tell you something.

It gave me a lot of perspective, and yeah, I'm still gonna speak up against the bullshit Aziraphale hate.

People are entitled to their opinions, but the Aziraphale hate isn't an opinion. It's just ableist, misogynistic garbage. At this point we all know y'all say these extreme things about Aziraphale because y'all get more joy out of the harm and alienation it is causing others.

Keep being loudly wrong, but if you think I'm not entitled to challenge shitty-ass, harmful, hateful discourse, bite my ass.

I'm not the one who lost the plot in this fandom.

[asherraccoon]

Heat (But there's no sex, just fluff) - Radioapple- Trans Alastor

(You guys don't understand how much I love soft and fluffy radioapple 😭)

Alastor groaned, curled up in a ball on his bed. He hated heat season. Of course he had to be cursed with being biologically a female, causing him to go into heat every year. It absolutely sucked. 

The fact his body was craving the exact thing he despised and wanted to avoid was driving him crazy. He would much rather be stabbed in the stomach with an angelic weapon than suffer through this. 

He was perfectly fine in his human life being a female, but he also wasn't part deer back then. Heats were a lot different from monthly periods, and much much worse. 

Alastor pulled his blanket up over his head and groaned. His ear flicked when he heard a knock on his door. “What..?” He grumbled. 

Lucifer poked his head in. “Heeeyyyyy Alllll…” he said nervously. “You doing alright..?” He asked, seemingly concerned. 

Alastor huffed. “I'm an asexual trans man going through his heat cycle. What do you think?” He growled, glaring at Lucifer from under the blanket. 

 “Right…” Lucifer said quietly, looking at the ground. He looked back up at Alastor again. “Is there anything I can do for you?” 

Alastor was quiet for a few moments. “I don't think so,” Alastor finally said. “The things my body wants to do versus what my mind wants are very different. I don't want to accidentally do something I'll regret,” 

Lucifer frowned. He walked over to the bed, closing the door behind him, and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Al, I wanna help you. I don't want you to have to suffer through this alone,” he reached over and carefully brushed Alastor's bangs out of his face. 

Alastor hummed quietly and leaned into Lucifer's hand a little. 

Lucifer shifted his position on the bed and held his arms out. “C'mere, Bambi,” he said. 

Alastor hesitated. While cuddling and touching sounded very appealing right now, he wasn't sure if it was a good idea. He stayed put for a good few seconds before finally crawling over to Lucifer and laying himself on the angel's chest. 

Lucifer put his arms around Alastor and smiled softly at him. “How's this feel?” he asked. 

Alastor hummed again and nuzzled his head under Lucifer's chin. “Good,” he responded. 

Lucifer laughed a little bit at Alastor's actions. He reached up and fidgeted with the fur on the tip of one of Alastor's ears. 

Alastor's ear flicked, hitting Lucifer's hand. 

“Oops, sorry. I forgot you don't like being touched there,” Lucifer apologized, pulling his hand away. 

Alastor shook his head and lifted his head to look at Lucifer. “Don't,” he lifted his ears, which had been low the entire time prior. “I… I think… I think it's okay for now,” Alastor said, his face warming. He pressed his face against Lucifer's chest. 

Lucifer's eyes widened as well as his smile as he was given permission to touch Alastor's ears. “Really? I can pet them?” He asked excitedly. 

Alastor nodded. 

Lucifer giggled happily. He reached up and started playing with one of Alastor's ears, watching it flick and turn. 

“Don't pull,” Alastor said when he felt Lucifer grab his ear. 

“I know, I won't,” Lucifer said, his focus mainly on the deer's ears. He stopped playing with them and instead started to just simply pet them. “How's that?” 

Alastor shuddered a little. “Good…” he muttered. It did feel really good. He squeezed Lucifer, pressing himself more against the angel. 

Lucifer's smile softened. He continued to pet Alastor's ears. He started to gently scratch at the base of one of them. 

Alastor's ears straightened when scratched. He let out a sigh and leaned into it. “That feels so good,” he muttered.

“Yeah?” Lucifer asked with an amused hum following after. He continued to scratch Alastor's ear, leaning his head back against the pillows. 

Alastor rubbed his head against Lucifer, trying to get his scent on the blonde. 

Lucifer chuckled softly at the possessive action. “Al, you don't gotta scent mark me. No one's gonna take me from you,” 

“Don't care,” Alastor replied. “I still like exchanging scents,” he nuzzled under Lucifer's chin. “Feels safer,” he sighed softly. 

“Safer?” Lucifer asked.

“Mhm,” Alastor hummed. “Makes me feel better when we smell like each other,”  

“Is that why you like it when I wear your jacket?” Lucifer asked, chuckling. 

“Yeah,” Alastor responded honestly. He sighed contently as Lucifer continued to scratch his ears. “This is so much better that the alternate solution for heat,” he mumbled

“Is it helping?” Lucifer said softly. 

“Much,” Alastor nodded. He closed his eyes. 

Lucifer's hand moved down from Alastor's ear to his chin, gently rubbing it. 

Alastor leaned into the touch, letting himself be pet and scratched like a cat. He took Lucifer's hand and kissed it. “Thank you for this, Mon Amour,” he said sweetly. “You're too good for me,” 

Lucifer blushed, a golden tint spread across his cheeks and nose. “You're welcome… Alastor,” he said, giving the red deer a squeeze and burying his face in Alastor's red hair. 

Alastor made a small noise. It sounded similar to that of a fawn. 

Lucifer smiled and giggled. “You're so cute,” he said affectionately. 

Alastor didn't argue, he simply let out another sigh and rested comfortably in his spot on the smaller demon's chest. This was all he needed this season. 

[crow-caller]

Hi Crow,

Apologies if this has been asked before but I’m trying to get to the bottom of what people describe as ‘biblically accurate angels’ and I’m getting conflicting results and I thought why not ask someone who definitely knows more on the topic than me. Is the incomprehensible multi-eye wheel creature thing true?

"True" is the problem, because... it is, and it isn't, and it depends, and it's complicated!

I looooove angels, you're right, and I was working on doing a vid on this exact topic because the term 'biblically accurate angel' is a pet peeve of mine. However, no matter the power of my autistic angelic obsession, I wouldn't say I'm a perfect source. I got intimidated outta making that video because I got too anxious of messing it up and losing my angel cred. BUT! I do know some stuff.

What's wrong with "Biblically Accurate Angels?

Three things!

1. "Biblically"

Most people I see, when confronted with the word 'Biblically', think of Christianity. The Bible technically refers to a collection of texts shared by a number of Abrahamic religions, but I've a lot of people entirely unaware of that fact. There's often a general lack of recognition around 'biblically accurate angel' posting that angels aren't exclusively or originally Christian concepts. Tumblr is an outlier of a place, remember; I read youtube comments.

2. "Accurate"

This makes me lose it, just a little bit, because the idea 'real angels in the bible actually looked like scary monsters' is both incorrect and kind of a rude thing to say about a holy entity a number of religions believe in.

There are a lot of ideas of angel classification and hierarchy, but you'll usually only see one--- the Christian one. This has nine orders in three spheres, going usually angel, archangel, principality (3rd sphere, most humanoid), powers, virtues, dominions (2nd, basically no lore), thrones/ophainim, cherubim, seraphim (1st, weirdo patrol). The lowest spheres are closest to humanity, the highest are closer to the divine.

(it's worth noting there's a big difference between 'what is exactly in the canon holy text' versus 'writings/visions/ideas from scholars later'. There's differing opinions everywhere and also different sects.) Little is universal.

Speaking of, religions! Heard of them? Angel hierarchy as it's commonly see is very specifically a Christian angle! There's a number of different Jewish angelic hierarchies which include different types or interpretations of angels. There's usually 10 ranks instead of 9 too.

I know the least about angels in Islam, but they don't have a strict angel hierarchy either, though some angels are more important than others.

As for angel physical descriptions, it varies. They can take human form, but they're spirits doing that for our convenience. Some of them are doing weird stuff, but most of the time an angel is some essence of light and fire taking a lesser defined shape for our convenience.

Some of the main ideas of a 'biblically accurate angel' come from one of my fav bits of the bible, the chariot in Ezekiel.

If you've not read the fun weird bits of the bible before, let me introduce you!!

These are the Living Creatures which are considered Cherubim in Christianity. The wheels are the Ophanim, who are also Thrones. The whole thing sounds like a very intricate chariot rather than a bunch of angels, but hey, it says right there they're 'living beings'

3. "Angels"

What is an angel anyway?

Well, there's an answer, but as I think I've highlighted there's a number of different, varying ideas of them which are all equally valid! This can include, of course, the artistic choice of making them monsters ( I love doing this ), but it's incorrect to assert such a design is 'more or truly accurate'.

Angels are messengers. The word for angel originally was Messenger, and the role of angels is generally to serve as a conduit and messenger of divine will. They can be teachers or healers. They often are more extensions of the holy rather than truly independent spirits, good because they are divine rather than the choice of free will. (but like everything I'm saying it depends bc religions and opinions are not unified monoliths).

Not all angels are messengers. Even without a strict hierarchy, there's a common idea of specific angels for specific jobs. The idea of Archangels is also common, though which are and how many differs wildly, as does their function.

Angels are divine beings. Humans don't become them. There also are some sects that believe this, like the Latter Day Saints, but generally the divide between human and angel is very clear. Humans are generally above angels, because we're beloved new ocs.

angels are cool. I really like them

---

anyway, this is a very approximate ramble for you on the subject. I think I could have gone on in much more detail and I decided not to. Especially as I note I don't have that kind of 'learn and memorize everything about your special interest' kind of autism, just 'a lot more than normal over many years'. Angels are a really complicated subject because religion is, and it all differs. But I do dislike Biblically Accurate Angel because I think it's really misled people who come across it casually. Yes, there's weird angel stuff, but it's pretty rare (especially in common canon), and it isn't 'the secret creepypasta truth'.

[amywritesthings]

new year, new choso. / choso nye fic

pairing: choso kamo x f!reader ( jujutsu kaisen ) word count: 1.9k summary: Choso Kamo has never been to a New Year's Eve party. Who knew chaperoning his kid brother to Gojo's Jujutsu High party would end up like this? tags: new year's eve kiss, nye party fluff, choso is a sweet baby angel goth, and he's wearing a suit, alcohol, mentions of cards against humanity credit: dividers by @saradika dedicated to @nube55 , @sixpennydame , and @chishiyasan xo

welcome to the final day of the twelve days of amymas !!

New Year’s Eve parties are typically not your thing.

Loud music, bustling crowds, crowded rooms with crowded strangers — the whole debacle always sounded like a recipe for disaster.

Ieiri claimed that this gathering would be different. Small.

Albeit still a party by Gojo Satoru’s standards as his entire penthouse is littered with tacky balloons, confetti, and endless amounts of blinking year-end sunglasses, but tamer than anticipated.

It’s probably something to do with the fact that said gathering included his students from Jujutsu High.

The teenagers all crowd in the dead center of the living room excitedly playing Cards Against Humanity while Gojo's colleagues and friends mingle about the main floor.

(There’s just something about watching a cursed panda argue that his cards are accurate to the prompt as opposed to the obscene and filthy winners — ironically, a silent kid with cursed speech tattoos holds the jackpot of black cards.)

You were once destined to become a sorcerer yourself, but you’d hung it up for a simpler life. Not unlike your best friend, Shoko, but not as close to the Jujutsu world.

Then again, you never really get away from this life. Not really.

(Only thirty minutes left until the new year.)

“Did you need a refill?”

The gentle question comes out of nowhere to your side, breaking your concentration of the rowdy game.

When you turn your head, you’re immediately taken by a dark-haired man with a thin, black strip covering the bridge of his nose like a blush. He wears a maroon button-up, satin to the eye, and a dark suit jacket to compliment his pale complexion. His shoulder-length dark hair is in a half up-do, fixed hastily in a tiny bun at the crown of his head.

Your first thought? He’s beautiful.

Your second thought? You find yourself staring for too long, lips parted with an answer you’ve all but forgotten.

The man blinks back at you, shuffling in the uncertain silence. 

“I, uh — sorry, I probably should have said ‘hello’ like a normal person and —”

“Uh, sure, I could walk with you?” you blurt, hating yourself for the way his eyes round with his own bout of confusion. “For a refill. I’m getting kind of stiff sitting against this wall.”

He’s a stranger, even if it’s technically a friend’s party.

You’ve been taught from birth that you should take care of your own drinks — but that doesn’t mean you can’t accompany someone as alluring as him to go grab a new mixed drink.

God knows Gojo bought out the entire liquor store despite how seventy-five percent of the party can’t drink and, the irony, Gojo doesn’t drink.

(An overachiever even in the art of hosting, Shoko joked before she dipped for a smoke break.)

Right.

You're dissociating.

Back to the guy in front of you.

“And hi,” you add lamely after a beat.

The stranger fights a smile, choosing to rush a small huff of air.

“Hi. Name's Choso Kamo,” he awkwardly introduces. “And yeah, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

He fidgets with a button of his dress shirt, popping it absently.

“Feels a little crowded here.”

"A little," you agree, gesturing for him to show the way.

Shoulder to shoulder you both walk to the drink table, not saying a word.

You note how the stranger — this Choso — keeps his eyes on the table of kids as they heavily debate which answer should win: the cold, dead fingers card dropped by a triumphant Kugisaki, versus the Daniel Radcliff’s delicious asshole card slipped in by a stone-faced Megumi.

“Dying to join in on the game?” you joke, trying to break the slow-building tension.

“Hmm? Oh. God, no. I’m not getting involved in that war.” The man blinks to you, his expression softening for a moment. “My kid brother’s over there.”

“Which one is he?”

Choso smiles small, clearly proud to point him out.

He fills his cup with a moderate amount of rum and soda, mixing it with a wooden stirrer.

“The pink-haired one. Yuji.”

Yuji isn’t hard to spot, not by a long shot.

He’s giggling between Megumi and Kugisaki, joyously playing moderator to the budding fight for who has the best card this round.

When you turn back to Choso, you see his smile has widened.

“He’s got his work cut out for him if he’s the Card Szarr this round," you say.

Choso laughs breathily and takes a sip. “Yeah, his friends are a little brutal. Good kids, but… opinionated.”

(As proudly displayed by the way the finalists shout at one another. Yuji laughs hard, shaking his head — only to pull a major upset by choosing the panda’s card instead.)

“He’s the only reason I’m here,” Choso adds belatedly, seemingly wishing to keep the conversation going. “I’m not exactly friends with the guy who threw this thing.”

“Who, Gojo?” you ask. He nods. “Me neither. My best friend managed to drag me out of my cave. Not sure if you know her — Shoko Iieri?”

Choso shakes his head. 

“Can’t say I do. Then again, I could say that about everyone. I only really came so my brother and his friends had a chaperone home." He straightens once he's done filling his drink. "I take it you don’t normally do these things, either?”

“That’s nice of you,” you comment, filling the rest of your drink before clinking the glass to his. “And no, I kind of hate parties. Way more of a quiet environment sort of person.”

“You and me both,” he commiserates. “Believe it or not, this is my first New Year’s Eve out.”

“Really? Your first, ever?”

He nods. “It’s a little complicated. Jujutsu shit.”

The words make you accidentally bark out a laugh, startling Choso.

He warms to it, however, and laughs with you. 

“Jujutsu shit is very much something I can’t seem to get away from,” you explain.

“Guess I found the one person at this party that gets me,” Choso admits with a dissolving chuckle, the black strip on his nose sprinkled with a gentle pink blush at his confession. “Yuji was pretty insistent on making it a big deal, given it’s my first real holiday outing. We spent Christmas just with the two of us this year — sorry, am I talking too much?”

You sip your drink and shake your head. “I like listening.”

It’s the truth: this man is interesting.

Clearly he’s not completely of this realm, that much you’re quite certain of, but he’s truly trying to be human.

Choso fumbles, but he’s honest about his experience.

It’s a refreshing taking on a world you’ve become so cynical about.

“I usually don’t talk this much,” he admits; his second confession of the night. He sighs and shakes his head. “Anyway, yeah. Christmas was solo, but he wanted to do this big party with his friends. Begged me to come along. New Year’s is an interesting idea, but the traditions… I don’t know.”

He squints at nothing in particular as he thinks.

“There’s so much I want to try now that I’ve got this life.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I have the drinking part down,” he tells you, glancing down at his glass and outfit. “I dressed up, though given what everyone else wore—”

Sweaters. Jeans. Nothing fancy — not like him.

“—I think I screwed that part up.”

“I think you look amazing, for what it’s worth,” you blurt, and he catches your eye with an appreciative glow.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, suits always look good.”

Choso grins, albeit briefly, yet the growing confidence lingers.

“Party games, though I’m happier to watch than play right now. Then there’s that New Year’s kiss thing?”

Oh.

He turns to you for confirmation, but you damn well know your face is on fire from the implication.

“When the clock strikes midnight, you’re supposed to kiss someone," he explains like you're new to this, too. "Make a wish or promise or whatever so that the next year is going to be better.”

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He leans in a fraction further, dropping his voice to a murmur. “That's what I heard, anyway.”

You’re expecting him to have a but scoot into that sentence, but he pauses to search your face for the right or wrong answer.

“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” you admit — it's now your turn to confess.

His brows furrow. “Really? Never?”

You shake your head. “Maybe that’s why my years have been so shitty lately.”

Choso nods with a grave understanding. “Could be.”

A few of the teenagers cheer, abandoning the game to turn on the main television.

The clock is only a few minutes until midnight.

Three, to be exact.

Suddenly the drink in your hand becomes your life line.

“I admit that I didn’t know if you needed a refill on your drink,” Choso pipes up, slow and careful. You turn your attention from the television broadcast to look at him. “I only came here to make sure Yuji had a good time with his friends, but then I saw you come in with that woman.”

Wait, he saw you come in?

When you say nothing, he sucks in a sharp inhale to explain himself. 

“I spent an hour working up the courage to come talk to you. I couldn’t think of anything to say. You’re so damn pretty, and you seemed fine hanging out by yourself or with her, and so I thought — I mean, I needed a refill and some liquid courage — so it — do you get what I’m saying?”

No, no you don’t and yes, yes you do.

“You’re very pretty yourself,” you tell him without thinking, causing his eyes to widen. Yours follow suit, rounding like saucers. “I mean — yeah, as soon as I noticed you, I thought you were attractive—”

“People go out for coffee, right?” he interrupts as if he’s been waiting all night to ask. “When they think someone is pretty, they… go out for coffee or dinner or walks.”

One minute remaining.

Choso pauses to stare into your eyes, earnest and true.

“I’d love to go out for some coffee, or whatever dinner you want, or even just a walk. Maybe. Some time. If you’re… free.”

A date.

Forty seconds until the new year, and you’ve already scored yourself a date.

“We could do one of those things,” you murmur. Choso’s face brightens. “Maybe all of them. And we could start it off with…”

Twenty seconds. 

“Making a wish?” the dark-haired man suggests when you trail off, rounding towards you so he’s closer.

For someone who says he has a lot to experience, you’re surprised that he seems to cage you in with experience. 

If it wasn’t for his eyes begging you to confirm that this is what you want, then you’d think maybe he was a liar.

“Yeah. For a great new year,” you explain, lifting your chin.

Ten seconds.

“For a great new year,” he exhales with a promise, leaning in.

His hand reaches to gently cup your face as though mesmerized by how soft your skin feels beneath his palm.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The clock strikes midnight, and a pair of plush, timid lips gingerly press to yours.

You meet with an eager kiss, and you swear you feel Choso’s mouth curve into a satisfied smile against yours.

(Maybe next year really will be better.)