#it's a self parody of the fandom at this point i swear | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mist-the-wannabe-linguist · 2 years

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The "Americanization of the global internet" post and slow deterioration of local native culture gave me an idea: many users don't even know there is native language communities on this website, so if you know of a regional group/"subculture" on Tumblr, reblog/comment with the tags they use so people can find them and connect with other folks from their countries or speakers of a language they'd like to learn

I will try to update this post with every new addition to hopefully make a comprehensive list of Tumblr regional communities

Edit July 29th: the post has reached a point where Tumblr won't let me add any more links, so from now on all tags are plain text to make it fair

The list so far:

Europe

• Czech

#česky, #hezky česky - general Czech language posts, frequently featuring user-written poetry, art, sometimes politics and current events, warning: often contains vent posts

#čumblr - Czech but frequently used by Slovaks as well, primarily memes and fandom things, shipping, art, cultural things, frequently overlaps with #česky

#obrození, #obrozujeme - memes and fandoms as well but with more emphasis of maintaining and developing Czech culture, is a mostly humorous parody/self-proclaimed continuation of the Czech National Revival of the 1800s, overlaps with #čumblr and #česky

• Slovak

#slovensky - general Slovak language posts

#slumblr, #sumblr, NEW - #ťumbľr - Slovak, general posts, memes, fandom and culture things, sometimes overlaps with #čumblr

• Polish

#polska, #polish - Polish, general posts, art, politics and current events

#polblr, #polishposting, #polskie rzeczy - Polish, more humorous general posts and memes, often overlap with the above

• Ukrainian

#ukraine - general Ukrainian posts, often in English

#укртумбочка - mostly used by artists

• General Slavic

#slav, #slavic, #slavposting, #slavic stuff - mixed Slavic, usually cultural things, memes, art and photography, sometimes politics, sometimes visited by other East Europeans

• Irish

#gaeilge - Irish, general posting but especially cultural things and memes, often features posts for language learning

• Welsh

#cymraeg, #tymblr - general Welsh posting, memes

• Romanian

#romanian - general Romanian tag

#romanisme, #vlandom - Romanian, mostly memes and humor

• Hungarian

#magyar, #hungarian, #tumbli - Hungarian language, mostly quotes

• Finnish

#suomitumblr, #suomitumppu, #suomipaskaa, #suomeksi, other variations beginning with suomi - general (shit)posting

any and all swear words such as #perkele, #vittu, #saatana, #helvetti and #paska - shitposts, overlap with above

• Dutch

#dutch, #the netherlands, #netherlands, #holland, #nederland, #nederlands - general Dutch posts

#nedermemes, #dutchcore - memes, shitposting

• German

#deutsch, #german stuff - general German posting

#BundesTag - memes and humor

blogs like @official-deutschebahn, @official-german-medienlandschaft and other official-deutsche- blogs, "because THE joke of German tumblr is to act like an overly bureucratic public institution"

• Swedish

#sweblr, #swedenposting, #svea rike - memes, shitposts, fandom stuff, sometimes political

#svenskt, #sverige - general Swedish stuff

#all makt åt tengil vår befriare, #sa du sten - used mostly by @svenskjavel

#borås - posts and memes about the city, "kinda like Swedish Ohio"

#lesbisk, #bög, #bisexuell, #pansexuell, #hbtq+, #hbtq, #homosexuell, #asexuell - Swedish queer tags

• French

#upthebaguette, #french side of tumblr, #whatthefrance - general French posting but especially memes, comics, art

#bagaitte - French queer posting

• Greek

#greek tumblr, #ελληνικα, #ελλαδα, #γρεεκ, #ελληνικο ταμπλρ - general stuff

#greek memes - memes

Catalan

#coses de la terra - general stuff

Belarusian

#беларускі тамблер - general stuff, fandoms

#артшляхта - art

Italian

#itablr - general stuff, not very populated yet

#welcome to italy, #italian things, #italian stuff, #italy tag, #roba italiana

#sanremo - for the Sanremo Music Festival, also #domenica in but only after the end of the festival

Italians also frequently gather under #leonardo rai, #medici, #i medici, #montalbano and #il giovane montalbano

Estonian

#eestiblr, #eesti - general stuff

@unofficial-estonia - blog

Danish

@useless-denmarkfacts - blog

Spanish

#español - general Spanish (* I noticed some Mexicans using these too so there may be overlap with American Spanish-speaking countries as well)

#citas, #frases - quotes

#humor grafico - memes

Scottish Gaelic

#gaidhlig, #gaelposting - general, art, language

Africa

Moroccan

#المغرب, #Maroc -general, often photos

Asia

• South Asian

#desiblr, #desi, #desi tag - general South Asia posting, memes, humor, sometimes also used by Arab people

• Indian

#dabara tumblr, #தம்பிளர் - suggested tags for South India

Russian

#русский тамблер, #русский tumblr - general stuff, memes

Sri Lankan

#අරගලයට ජය, suggested tags LKA or #Lankablr if anyone's interested

Indonesian

@useless-indonesiafacts - blog

Israeli

# עברית# ,ישראבלר - general stuff (sorry if these are broken, tumblr keeps fucking with right-to-left scripts)

Arabic

#عربي - general

#كتب, #كتاب, #كتابات - books and writing

Oceania

Australian

#auscore, #straya - general stuff, culture, memes and shitposts

#auspol - politics

Aotearoa (New Zealand)

#māori, #te reo māori - Māori tags

Americas

Brazilian

#brazil, #brasil, #Come to brazil, #br posting, #meu brasil brasileiro, #tumblr br - general and memes

Turtle Island (North American) Indigenous

#ndn, #ndn tumblr - usually about culture, memes etc

"If you're looking for something specific to your tribe, try the non-English spelling of your tribe's name (Tsalagi for Cherokee, for example)"

Not location-specific

Jewish

#jumblr, #frumblr - general stuff, history, discussions, posts mostly in English

Romani

#romani, #rroma, #rrumblr - romani sides of tumblr, general stuff, history, discussions, mostly in English

Please share around wherever you're from, US American local cultures are welcome as well, especially indigenous (though that should go without saying)

Reminder that this is a post made to allow people to find others of the same culture/language, be respectful and do not use these tags to target groups and spread hate

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strawberryjamsara · 1 year

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may we know which interpretation of a character from ur shows u do not agree with and find to be in slightly poor taste u reblogged that post 5 times about 👀

I reblogged that post way more than five times I thought….

And well it applies to a lot of characters… but for what I’m thinking about now it’s the entire cast of yttd

This game is literally about a death cult that’s been training people for a murder game against their knowledge their whole lives. You’d think the fandom would be able to shoulder more moral complexity than 7 year olds.

Qtaro is beloved nowadays for his stellar character arc, but before 3-1b and even now, his tag is uninhabitable. No matter how much he changed from his pretty indefensible actions in the first chapter, even a line in the second chapter main game that was pretty much just turning towards the camera and telling you he had changed, people were VICIOUS at the idea that he could show any moral complexity and growth. People were outraged over a man called Qtaro Burberberg who was a parody of Jojo characters, and making headcanons about him being homophobic (which is a whole other can of worms but I don’t have time for that today)

Then we have the opposite spectrum. Characters who are loved.

Kai Satou, literal ex assassin who drank poison as a child? Apparently he doesn’t know what swears are.

Nao Egokoro, who in one route of the game kills everyone? Like that happens. She kills everyone. Well she’s just a cutesy artist lesbian.

(Also Kai threatened Nao at knifepoint to attack an innocent person in canon but that never gets unpacked anywhere in the fandom)

Hell the uwufication has gotten so bad that Shin Tsukimi SHIN FUCKING TSUKIMI, the antagonist of the game for a good chunk of the run time is reduced down to being just a little guuuuuuy! Baby booooooy! The fact he spent so long tormenting a literal child is treated as a funny little quirk! And look, I’ll be the first person to advocate for Shin and Sara being a well written relationship and their eventual bond meaning a lot to me, but Shin has gotten so many passes for being a fan favorite and (dare I say it) being a twink.

And like. There’s also the weird limbo with Keiji. Oooooh Keiji. See, you can make a post pointing out Shins mistakes and everyone goes “He’s so funny <3” but if you make a very similar post about Keiji the literal day after those people will say “Ugh, thank you this is why I hate Keiji.”

So look. I love Keiji. I make fanart of Keiji. I obsessively write meta of Keiji. I blorbo tag Keiji. I am like the only person in the world who thinks that with the way Nankidai has written the story, killing off Keiji would be a bad move…

But here’s the thing.

Keiji is a flawed character. Like extremely flawed. He’s meant to be a direct foil to Shin, but rather than antagonizing our main character, he’s sitting in the chair next to her as her main assistant. He cares about her deeply, but in the beginning of the game, his only interest with her is using her as a figurehead for his own survival, and no matter how much he wants to protect her now, that initial approach is not without consequences. He has hurt people, and he uses that fact to hurt people more as his own self inflicted punishment. He has changed and grown over the narrative but he’s not someone you can put in an easy box of good or bad.

So people tend to go to one extreme or the other with him. Either he’s the best dad who does no wrong, or he is the worst character ever and the game would be so much better without him. It really sucks that Keiji and Sara, one of the most complex and interesting relationships in the game, and one that is out front and center so comically often, to the point that 3-1b revolves around it, is ignored to such a degree that the contract, the main point of that scene, the fact you were meant to be put in Sara’s shoes and feel her making that decision was missed by the fandom so they could whine about not getting to make the decision themselves! Reading comprehension zero! Literally where is the meta and fanfic?! Greenblings has tons of it! Do I have to do everything mys-

Also like, there’s also characters explicitly meant to be not sympathetic who do get sympathy. Like, idk how hard Nankidai has to look into the camera and tell you Midori is just like that for you to stop giving him backstories. People probably do that so it’s easier to ship him with Shin tbh. Stop that.

Okay one last thing, and I’ll stop. This fandom is weirdly focused on shipping. Like I love shipping don’t get me wrong, but yttd is like not about shipping. At all. There’s twenty different extremely fucked up and interesting found family dynamics in the game and people are worried about whose Alice gonna take to the jailhouse prom. Okay. Gothi out.

#ask

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sidneypoindexter · 3 years

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I honestly hated the birdtaurs at first.

It was like. Oh. Weird fandom parody. Wasn't this made before the fandom was even a thing? Nobody hates Wammawink. This is just obnoxious and stressful. What the fuck is with the bird fetuses? I like Crandy's song though, she has a cute voice. But these birdtaurs are so selfish and self-obsessed, they don't see themselves as part of the world, they're like above it. Literally. They don't even care about each other, they just care about watching each other's content and having their own fans for their own content.

But my opinion changed when...

Bayden got minotaur'd.

And then Bayden showed up in the human world, and was loudly livetweeting directly above the minotaurs. And then the bird fetus dropped on the minotaurs (because of course, how would it get to his followers, they're literally in another world) and repeated just enough...

"Bayden. Directly above minotaurs."

When that happened, I was so surprised and amazed that I said "oh shit" out loud. My stepdad heard me from the dining room (I was watching in the living room) and told me to watch my language. He doesn't like when people swear so I try to watch my language when he's at home (and I'm not in my room, I can swear as much as I want in my own room) which is why this making me shocked enough to swear out loud is a Big Thing.

Then Bayden just kept tweeting, while being captured and in the leadup to being minotaur'd. And I realized...

The birdtaurs' obsession with the world as a story has caused them to not realize they're a part of it. And this separation in their minds of "things that can happen to them" and "things that can happen to other people" made Bayden not realize what was going to happen to him until it already had.

When Bayden came out as a minotaur, I was so amazed. I'd seen spoilers of minotaur-Bayden, but didn't know how it was going to happen. I couldn't tell the difference between most birdtaurs at that point anyways- Bayden just wasn't that important in my mind until this happened, I saw him once but didn't expect him to be a major player, so I forgot him instantly. So when he turned into a minotaur I was like "so THAT'S what that screenshot was from."

Minotaur-Bayden is so grotesque and I love the design. The combination of bird and alligator to make whatever that is? The sharpening of all his Centaurworldy features? The fact he still doesn't have a nose, so his noseless beak-face plus the alligator's mouth made the top part of the beak squished in while the bottom part jutted out? The fact he still had his durpleshirt on? It's quite honestly one of the best designs in the show.

Comfortable Doug's line of "Is this a death we must mourn or a birth we must celebrate?" made me appreciate Comfortable Doug much more than I had before. I still don't like the moletaurs being hairless, but that's fine. Also after Bayden roared, Doug went "...Still not sure." which made me laugh.

In the Hootenanny episode, the little line in the song of "oh by the way guys has anyone seen Bayden" made me think like. Oh shit. They don't know what they're in for. Honey, you've got a big storm coming.

Then in the finale episode, when Bayden captured Crandy and she recognized him instantly? And she was like "what did you think of my latest [whatever it is she does]" and he went "Like. Like. Like." and she was like "He's still in there, you guys!"

I was all "are they going to have to kill their friend knowing he's their friend?" but then the final song showed the birdtaurs with Bayden, helping to rehabilitate him. Uncomfortable with what he's become but still seeing him as their friend and liking him- that made me like the birdtaurs way more than I did before. Before that, they'd seemed kind of shallow, but now I can see they actually care about each other beyond just watching each other's content and having their own fans for their own content. The way the tweeting-egg fit perfectly into Bayden's jutting jaw also made me smile.

Anyways TL;DR minotaur-Bayden singlehandedly redeemed the birdtaurs in my eyes.

#txt #centaurworld #centaurworld spoilers #birdtaurs #bayden

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firehananas · 3 years

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Writing Commentary - 2021 edition

I used to do this before on my ffnet account (in French) but I think this could be more interesting to post it here. To have a back trail, you know.

Note most of the fanfic are in French.

Amont of works publish this year: 8

Fandoms:

* Tenkuu Shinpan (2+1 translation)

* March Comes In Like a Lion (1)

* Pokémon (2)

* Assassination Classroom (1)

* Forgotton Anne (1)

* Angels of Death (1)

Ongoing (total): 11 Complete (this year): 2 (+1 translation)

This is the first time I try to write in English (all my thanks to rdfa (she’ll recognized herself)). I’m still nervous about it but, well, if you never try you’ll never be good, right?

It’s also my first time writing in the “x reader” genre. If you try to not give gender or use the “y/n” stuff, I find it quite stimulating and engaging (otherwise, I tend to think it’s pretty useless to put descriptive such as e/c or whatever. Like, what’s the point. I know what kind of color my eyes are, I don’t need you author to made me think of it. Be honest and says it’s an OC, nobody will be mad). Anyway, that’s fun and not as easy as you can think in first glance.

I try two different things — two with the classical second point of view, one with the third point of view. Two out of three were gendered female because self-fanservice I suppose.

Made also some translations - one of my own writing (Midnight Still <=> Minuit s’éternise [Tenkuu Shinpan]) and it was very interesting how to stay ambiguous on the gender, because French loved to gender every stupid thing in the world. I loved to subvert it. Fuck gender. Incredibly surprise and “disappointed” of the popularity they get tho. Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing people enjoying my writing! But I’m disappointed because it’s not something I’m particular proud of and I wish other stuffs I made was this popular. But, it can’t be help! That’s just how it is. Once I would finish Anges [Dé]chus saga, I don’t think I’ll come back to “x reader” again.

Speaking of gender, I started Autumn’s naps [March comes in Like a Lion] which features my very first nonbinary protagonist OC, Kotone. It’s not apparent yet, but’ll be more explicit later on. Poor Kotone, they’s lost in the city for months now; I promise they’ll find their way at one point and second chapter will be fully publish. I also need to update the link on my tumblr, I swear I think of it each time I open the app ufeziutg It’s supposed to be short multi-chapter fics, and everything is written for the red line. Just need to put some form. Light hearted kid fic with terminal illness, family, friends to lover and growing up thematic. I try to stay close to the MCLL spirit. And in case you miss it, it’s in ✨English✨

Which leads to the others works I publish this year.

Terre-à-Terre : Ash’s Planet for the anniversary of Pokémon Diamond & Pearl and the remake (who completely sucks if you didn’t know btw, I’m crying bitter tears but at least I didn’t buy it) who promise to be a goddamn long fic (three parts of ~30 chapters). My goal here is to write a believable and not too much annoying love triangle between an OC/Commander Saturn/Mars, after the fall of Team Galactic. Saturn thinks everyone is an idiot, but he knows deep down he is the biggest fool. Curse, nobody take the Team Galactic seriously except when they do, atonement, rehabilitation and of course romance themes. Mostly canon-compliant and a bunch of OC grunts.

Noces Funèbres [Angels of Death] is suppose to be short (2 or 3 chapters), but it was taking dust in my pc so I need to work on it. I’m honestly very surprise of the warm received it gets, especially for something written in French. So I better not letting it died (ahah). A deviation if Rachel escapes from Danny without the help of Zack and meets Eddie. Canon dark themes, ambiguous relationship between Eddie and Rachel.

Sans peur et sans reproche is a parody/pastiche of fantasy and shonen genre with the settle of Pokémon. I have other thing to write right now so I’m not currently working on it, but I wanted to see what people would think about it. For now, nothing much but hey, who knows in the futur? Medium fic, I hope. Family, friendship and epic battles are excepted. Featuring talking Pokémon.

A fic “p/rn with plot” also that is not finish yet, but I won’t go in the detail. Honestly, it’s not really easy to write sm/ut, I can’t help myself but find it stupidly narm. Shouldn’t be long either — 6 chapters max.

A character study with Balles Perdues [Forgotton Anne]. I’m thinking about making a translation when I’ll have time. Magnum is a very interesting character and I’m a little sadden there is just me who had make something for him. Angst, mourning, death themes. Heavy spoilers too, and inspired by my own let’s play.

Still ongoing but didn’t really write for them this year:

* Le Dragon de Cristal [Eldarya]: I’m stuck at the chapter where Leiftan is supposed to met Erika and Ashkore; I’ve no idea how to make it right yet. * La princesse et le Sorcier de la forteresse [Hetalia]: Each year, I said I’ll finish it. Each year, I open the document of the fic, read it, and forget about it. Maybe next year? * True Self or Trust Yourself [Pokémon]: I really love this fic, but I need to read it and correct it. And I should make a real red line — like written on a doc and not mental note that I’ll without a doubt forget. * Le Baron Rouge : Autodafé [Pokémon]: This fic is so dark and depressing that I couldn’t work on it this year without feeling super awful. I hope I’ll be in better mood next year, because I think it’s one of the best thing I have ever write. (Also thinking about changing the title?)

Thinking to deleted:

* Deux fleurs jaunes [Hetalia & Ib]: I have said long ago I’ve gave it up, but I’m thinking about making definitely gone. I really dislike having unfinished stuff on my profile... * Anima : le Souffle [Harry Potter & Hetalia]: Between my growing disinterest in Hetalia and JK being unquestionably a TERF, I no longer want to write for it anymore. Which is a shame, I have think about this fic for years... but well. I’ll probably deleted it soon.

Coming Soon (if it’s not out already):

* Spider Lilies (crawling in our skulls) [Tenkuu Shinpan]: Basically, canon deviation where Kuon meets Yoshida and Rika prioritizes rejoining his sister instead of helping people. Will your faves survive? Make your debt! Will maybe have a sequel, and it’s in ✨English✨ (probably followed by a French translation)

Also, I have a memoire to do this year so I don’t know how much present I’ll be in 2022. We’ll see!

#hana talks #fanfiction #Writing Commentary 2021

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legobiwan · 5 years

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Whumptober #8 (stab wound)

TW: minor gore; power dynamics; Crowley swears a lot (but so do I)

Fandom: Good Omens (Crowley, Aziraphale, (references to Crowley/Aziraphale), Gabriel)

Notes: Honestly the stab wound bit is really an excuse to get to the rest of this, which is self-indulgent twaddle. Also, I am not Catholic nor did I really grow up religious, so excuse any inaccuracies.

—–

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Aziraphale moans again, writhing in Crowley’s arms, golden ichor seeping from the wound in his abdomen, spilling onto the demon’s hands. It burns, Crowley’s skin smoldering with the holy lifeblood, but he pays it no mind.

He can feel Aziraphale slipping away, can see him dying, creamy skin turning to water, the embers of his once-rosy cheeks fading to a pathetic sizzle as Crowley grasps for a hand unable to return his desperate touch.

(He’s seen death before, has killed angels with his own hands. The knife was familiar, too familiar - the way his hand curled around the silver hilt, wrenching the blade from Aziraphale’s body. The First War, the Rebellion, he and Lucifer and all the others, spilling gold at every turn, sparing a single cold eye to the spirits they had laid to waste.)

(Self-defense, he would tell himself later, long limbs curled to his chest, acid creeping up the edges of his metaphysical form as each felled angel stared back at him, accusing, every visage melting into that familiar mop of blond-white curls and plump cheeks.)

(Hell’s tortures had evolved beyond the physical. Even the Serpent of Eden wasn’t above the mandated re-education sessions of the Damned. Physical torture could be endured. This, however had been something else, his greatest asset - his imagination - turned against him. Hell had finally figured out how to bring the snake to heel.)

Now, he would give anything to be back in the Pit, Beezlebub looming over him, Hastur grinning at their side. If this were punishment, again, for depriving the Lord of Hell of another soul, a demonic miracle he couldn’t talk his way out of, a fudged compliance report damning him a second, third, a hundredth time - he would endure it for eternity if meant the angel was safe.

Crowley pulls Aziraphale to his chest, long arms encircling the angel’s stout belly, thin fingers caressing the soft, woolen layer of sweater. He swallows the rising sob in his throat whole, like the serpent he is, burying his nose in Aziraphale’s shoulder.

It smells of pine and sulfur.

Please, I’ll do anything. Crowley trembles, his eyes squeezed shut against the inevitable onslaught of tears. He casts his pleas upwards, contravening every demonic instinct branded into his damned soul. She doesn’t listen. She never has.

But just this once…

Save him.

Desperation curdles in his chest. Aziraphale remains motionless, the sheen of sweat glistening in the reflection of the damned blade. Crowley lays a hand on the angel’s shoulder, digging into skin and muscle.

Nothing.

Crowley dips his head, trembling, fanged teeth finding that delicate patch between his own thumb and forefinger. He bites, hard, drawing blood from his own flesh, a sacrifice made willingly, even though he knows he can offer nothing that had not already been taken.

Answer me, please.

Only the dagger responds from its discarded spot on the ground, crackling with Hellfire, taunting him, laughing in return.

Damn you.

Crowley’s fist clenches against Aziraphale’s shirt. The fabric wrinkles, tight in his grasp, as if he can keep Aziraphale on this plane of existence by his own sheer determination, by dragging him bodily from the greedy arms obliteration.

“Do you hear me, God?” Yellow eyes snap open. “I said, DAMN YOU!”

Once again, Crowley draws on his occult power, pouring every bit of desperation, will, and imagination into the spell. Aziraphale’s wound remains unchanged, his waistcoast still slashed open at the third button, jacket peppered with golden stains.

“Gotta say, that’s not the strategy I would have gone with. Then again, you’re a demon. Heaven’s SoPs - Standard Operating Prayers - are probably out of your jurisdiction.”

Crowley goes rigid, almost preternaturally still save his tears, which succumb to gravity, winding down the sharp angles of his face.

Nononono. This wasn’t happening. Not now, not when he had offered the last part of himself up to an uncaring God, to a dispassionate universe, not when Aziraphale -

The leather shoes step forward, a quiet shuffle. The material gleams in the dying light, untouched by ash, by demonic brimstone, by the haze of sulfur. Crowley’s eyes travel up the perfectly pressed pants, just this side of grey, the soft, cashmere jacket, the violet scarf, matching those penetrating, condescending eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Crowley growls.

A smile, all the more insincere for how wide it is. Gabriel looks as if he has walked straight out of a stock photo session extolling the virtues of corporate synergy.

(Crowley would know. He received a minor commendation for that effort.)

Not that the archangel would have any idea. He looked down on Earth, on humanity, on any being who dared care for Her creations (creations She so easily cast aside).

Arms spread wide, hands, fingers all in alignment, Gabriel stands perfectly straight, chest forward, feet spread the ideal width.

(That had been another one of Crowley’s creations, Power Postures and You: How to Succeed in the Modern Workplace. The ideal width had not, in fact, ever been delineated and yet somehow Gabriel stood there, the utter wanker, unbothered by Hellflame, by the dying Angel in Crowley’s arms, feet spread the perfect amount.)

“I heard your prayer,” Gabriel shrugged. “Obviously.”

“I didn’t ask…you, anyone, I mean - “ Crowley spluttered, shaking his head back and forth in denial.

Gabriel’s smile widens.

“Went straight to our call center. Priority. Don’t get many of those these days, especially from such a…” Gabriel cocks his head. “Unique source. Obviously, my team had it directed to my office.”

“Obviously,” Crowley breaths, hugging Aziraphale, protective, as a child would hold their favorite stuffed animal. (Remember when you and Aziraphale raised Warlock). The thought threatens new tears, and Crowley swallows over the urge to sob.

Gabriel looks from Crowley to Aziraphale and back, disgust flitting across his face as the demon brushes a stray curl from the angel’s face, soft and more gentle than any agent of Hell had a right to be. There’s no point in hiding his affection, in denying what is before Gabriel’s very eyes.

The archangel clears his throat. ”I’m here to make a deal.”

Crowley’s hand stills, fingers caught partway through Aziraphale’s hair. “A…a deal?” he asks, the question wound with suspicion.

“Don’t look so offended, Crowley.”

It’s the first time Gabriel has uttered his name. Hell, Crowley didn’t even know the Archangel knew his name. It doesn’t hurt, to have Gabriel say it (names hold power, but not that much power), but still, it tickles at his inner organs, a strange discomfort, a crack his the edifice of his boundaries.

Gabriel looks pointedly at the fading angel in his arms.

“The Almighty made a deal with humanity - at the beginning. Well, close to the beginning. Your people had been…reassigned at that point.”

Crowley nods, not understanding. Was this supposed to be a bedtime story, a sermon, let us now read from the Gospel? He swallows his barbed commentary.

“She,” Gabriel points upwards, enunciating his words slow and sure, as if Crowley were a child, “offers humanity the chance at redemption. And in return they give Her their worship and obedience.”

Gabriel folds his hands to his front, eyebrows raised as if to say, you dumbass, aren’t you following?

That wasn’t what it was supposed to be, was it? Crowley frowns. God wasn’t hawking indulgences on the street, didn’t promise absolution in the form of quid pro quo. It was supposed to be based in faith, except faith came very certain terms and conditions, mostly don’t ask questions, obey and don’t think hard about it and how far a leap is from there to -

“All beings offering prayer are given the same options.”

Crowley hisses at the accusation. “I wasn’t - “

“Please, save him,” Gabriel mocks, his face a grotesque parody of Crowley’s pain, his desperation.

A mockery of his love.

(Demons don’t love.)

(Demons can’t love.)

Crowley runs a gentle hand through Aziraphale’s curls. This demon loves this angel. “Can you?” Nearly inaudible, a faint whisper stolen from his inner mind. “Can you save him?”

Gabriel laughs, full and hearty. It’s as pleasant a sound as a fork dragged across a ceramic plate and the hand laid on the angel’s stomach curls, fingers digging into Aziraphale’s wound. The angel whispers a blood-curdling moan, more golden lifeblood spilling onto Crowley’s digits.

“Of course we can save him! That’s what angels do!” Gabriel peers at Crowley through folded, disapproving brows, his hands flitting in a spastic, jazzy motion.

Crowley doubts Gabriel knows anything about jazz. (Aziraphale likes jazz, the smooth hiss of a brush dragged over a snare, the deep thrum of the pizzicato bass, the yearning of the saxophone under dim lights, a wordless confession as limbs slide dangerously close, a glissando of desire, a rim shot of lust and Crowley wraps a long arm around the angel’s shoulder and - )

“I mean, what do you think our purpose is?” Gabriel’s bright tenor shatters the memory. The angel slaps his own forehead with his palm. “Duh, Crowley!”

Crowley scowls, again burying his nose in Aziraphale’s neck. The angel’s skin has paled a few more shades, now nearly translucent.

“Thing thing is, I would just need….” Gabriel lets the sentence linger, angling his head towards Crowley, whose hand has now traveled clear through Aziarphale’s shoulder.

The angel doesn’t have much more time.

Crowley grits his teeth, despising himself for what he says next.

“What do you need?”

He doesn’t like this. Scratch that, he hates this, hates this stupid archangel who had condemned Aziraphale to death without a trial, who is now his only hope, this soldier, this messenger of Her, a God who can’t even be bothered to check her own damned voicemail.

“A deal. Well, The Deal.”

Crowley catches his meaning immediately. “What, worship?” The demon almost laughs. This situation, if it weren’t so heartbreaking, is absurd. “Hate to break it to you, Gabe, but demons aren’t exactly equipped for that type of thing.”

(A lie, he’s worshipped Aziraphale for 6,000 years.)

“To be honest, Crowley, the worshipping part comes later. Humanity requires fear, fear of loss. Or punishment. Doubt that last one would do much to you, having spent so much time in Hell. Except…”

Makes a pointed look towards Aziraphale.

“The thing is, you need to give them incentive. Change the behavior first. Later, they’ll come to understand the why, come to embrace the meaning of it all, to truly believe.”

“You want - “

“Serve me. Serve Heaven. No, not like that,” Gabriel rolls his eyes at Crowley’s undisguised horror. “Just a few errands here and there, a little bit of corporate espionage to get the ol’ one-up on Beezy.”

Lies. Sweet lies - Heaven had never known any other kind (and isn’t that why Aziraphale stayed loyal for so long? For a gluttonous angel who indulged in eclairs and crepes and devil’s food cake, it seems a natural predisposition). But no matter how much honey Gabriel pours on top of his shit sundae, it’s still a shit sundae, and Crowley has never shared the angel’s sweet tooth.

Aziraphale goes an impossible shade paler, twitching in Crowley’s arms. It should have been over, minutes, perhaps hours ago. No death of an ethereal being should take this long (Crowley would know), but this is somehow different, a long heat of the universe, cooling degree by degree, the end inevitable, writ in the cosmos, but the journey -

This is a damned test. Crowley sucks in air between clenched teeth. Gabriel is doing something, something he is supposed to notice, supposed to take as a gesture of good faith (but what is faith to the faithless?), as a promise, as bait.

He can save Aziraphale when Crowley (damned as he is) - can’t.

There are no other options. Say no and he loses the angel and inevitably himself. Sure, he’d try to raze Heaven on his way out, would march right up God’s front door and set fire to the whole place before succumbing happily to his own obliteration.

But here - he can make a deal, The Deal. The will angel live. And an alive Aziraphale, no matter what price Crowley has to pay - is a far more acceptable than a dead Aziraphale.

“Fine.” Crowley mutters, his face still turned downwards.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite hear that.”

You fucking prick, you know exactly what I said.

The demon somehow manages to lift his gaze, looking straight into Gabriel’s fucking condescending twat-face.

“Fine!” He doesn’t mean for it to come out like that, petulant and desperate.

“Uhuhuh,” the archangel wags a finger, and just like that, Crowley wants to kill him. “Not like that.”

“Not like what, you fuck-bucket? I agreed to your stupid terms now save him!”

He’s yelling, losing control and fuck it he has no pride left, here on the floor, Gabriel towering over him in his weakest moment, all of Crowley’s vulnerabilities laid out like a sodding picnic (don’t think about those outings with Aziraphale, don’t think about sharing champagne and little sandwiches on the beach, hands linked together, sitting side by side on a tartan blanket - )

“You’re familiar with the Catholic Mass?”

“What kind of stupid question - “

“The host,” Gabriel interrupts, paying no heed to the demon’s outburst. “The chalice, the Communion?”

Crowley’s stomach drops.

Fuck.

Fuck this fucking archangel.

(Crowley bows to no one. He’ll pretend, he’ll ingratiate himself, give due deference with a smirk and an ironic gesture. After a few rounds in Hell, he may, on occasion, even be halfway genuine in those gestures.)

But this -

He can’t do this.

“Time’s running out, demon.”

The angel in his arms is a cloud. It’s wrong, so wrong - Aziraphale is gravlax in dill sauce, Châteauneuf-du-Pape, he is old books and older knowledge, he is weighty and thick and everything Crowley adores about him is drained away to practically nothing, a shadow of a shadow.

He has to do this.

Swallowing the last of his pride, never letting go of what was left of Aziraphale’s metaphysical form, Crowley pulls his shins beneath him, gently resting the angel’s head above his knees, his back and shoulders flush with his thighs. He bows in supplication, his hands folded over Aziraphale’s forehead, a reminder of why he was about to do this.

(Genuflection, they called it. Adoration, respect. Crowley feels none of these emotions, only a sickness balled in his lower abdomen. He somehow manages not vomit as he submits himself to the archangel.)

“Please. Save him.”

Gabriel grins, wide and feral.

legobiwan does whumptober

#erg #yeah this happened #whumptober #whumptober 8 #trying to catch up guys #i'm actually having a really busy week at work and i have some DEADLINES for music shit coming up #crowley #aziraphale #gabriel #good omens #good omens spam #writing #gaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

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tryingtofindthestories · 7 years

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Watching the World Burn

Prompt: There are people who try to avoid any kind of conflict. And then there are people who just want to watch the world burn. - @creativepromptsforwriting

In this world, there are people who try to avoid any type of conflict. An then of course, there are the people who just want to watch the whole world burn. Likely with an over priced bag of popcorn in hand.

And I swear to God, my best friend is one of the latter.

“I mean, isn’t Star Wars and Star Trek the same thing?” As the words tumbled with feigned innocence from Tanvi, I felt my eyes widen with shock and my muscles tense in preparation for the battle to come. We were both dead and it was all her fault.

“Well, of course not. Have you been living under a rock or something?” a man with a Skywalker tee-shirt questioned. “Star Wars is an original masterpiece of the epic battle between good versus evil. Not a cheap almost B rated film like Star Trek!”

“Excuse you,” a female Captain Kirk exclaimed, “Star Trek is a parody designed at addressing stereotypes and tropes established by ‘masterpieces’ like your previous Star Wars. It’s satire dumb butt.” As fans from both sides scrambled to answer the call to arms and defend their preferred fandom, I grabbed Tanvi’s arm. She grudgingly followed along with athletic grace, even in her five inch ankle boots that raised her equal to my 5 foot 5 inch frame. Her dark hair bounced in a perky ponytail behind her as she pouted at me like a child dragged from a candy shop. When we were far enough to reassure me that we were not followed by some avid fan who refused to release us from the ensuing melee, I stopped tugging my best friend along. Leaning against one of the buildings walls, I slowly slid to the floor as I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, you take all the fun out of things, Olivia.” I tossed Tanvi a disbelieving look as I clutched my over sized sweater tighter to my lanky frame for comfort. She looked the picture of innocence with her head slightly tipped down and hands clasped politely in front of her. Even the crystal nose stud refracted the ceiling light as if to say, how can you really be mad at this? I put my head in my hands and let out a mirthless laugh.

“You are going to get us killed. We will be the first people ever murdered at comic con by enraged fans.”

“Stop being so dramatic, Olive. We probably won’t be the first.” My only answer was a breathless huff. “Come now, it really wasn’t that bad. All I did was ask a question.” I glared back up at her, taking in every inch from her dark ankle boots, up to the ripped jeans and retro t-shirt that lovingly hugged her thick body and complemented her deep brown skin tone, all the way to her wide eyed gaze.

“A question?” Eyeing her I tried to find... something. What it was, I have no clue. A sign of remorse? An acknowledgement of the evil she had just released? Any sense of self preservation, perhaps? Taking in the contrite posturing, some other ignorant victim would have believed she truly meant no harm. That she had no understanding of the vicious war she had just unleased in this sacred place of tentative truces. But I had been conditions through years of practice to see through the false veneer, to see the mischievous glint in her warm brown eyes and the little smirk coloring her lips that gave lie to everything else. A groan wheezed out of me like leaky bellows. I curled in more on myself, knobby knees shoved into my chest and my forehead pressed into my knees. My introverted self could only handle so much, and comic con itself was plenty, thank you very much. Tanvi was the outgoing one, the doer of us two. She was the reason we were here no matter how much she didn’t want to be. Had it been up to me I would have kept waffling over buying the ticket. If I progressed that far and actually booked a hotel, I probably would have holed up in my room too terrified to go to the convention. No matter how much I wanted to go.

Tanvi bought the tickets for my birthday and she dragged me out of my room to the convention. She was the one who pushed me toward the booths with my favorite comic artists and publishers and asked my questions for me when I refused to speak up during panel audience Q and A.

“Hey,” Here I felt slim hands gently touch my knees, “You ok?”

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to look up. A concerned gaze met mine when I did and a twinge of guilt stung in my chest. Tanvi didn’t like comics and superheroes, yet here she was for me, and what was I doing? Hiding behind my hands. Tanvi gave me a stern look, almost like she could read my mind. “None, of that now. No reason to feel bad about how you react, remember?”

“Yeah,” The word came out a little weak so I repeated myself, “Yeah, I remember.” Tanvi smiled and squeezed my knees.

“So, you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” A sigh followed. “Why do you have to harass all the fans?” A wider smile was my first answer.

“It’s so fun and way too easy, don’t you know?” I rolled my eyes at her before dropping my hands to my sides. Tanvi moved to my side, crouching easily with no sign of discomfort. I stretched out my legs while shooting her an envious look.

“Showoff,” I grumbled at the athlete. Tanvi just laughed in response. “But really, do you have to harass them?” She offered a tired smiled and arched brow at that.

“Did I really though? I just asked the difference, they were the ones who turned to insults.” I hesitated a moment, before shrugging.

“I guess.”

“No guess, they did. I didn’t. What if I really didn’t have any friends into it, and was asking so I could learn more about them, genuinely?”

“You probably wouldn’t have joined either one.”

“Yeah, and someone would have missed out on something they could enjoy just because some people can’t let others love something that isn’t what they love. Even I can laugh at good natured jokes about softball, and not only do I love it, I’m getting a scholarship from it as well.” We both paused a moment at that, my gaze held by my shoes as I tapped them firmly against the floor. Letting the conversation roll over me and consider it thoroughly. Tanvi lost in her own consideration of something else. “So really what harm is there in my enjoying the chaos that comes from their own ridiculousness? Why shouldn’t some good come of it?”

I hesitated in answering this, my gut instinct being to reject the idea. That any kind of provoked fan war could be a good thing or the instigated excused for it. Yet, she made a strong point. She had asked a genuine question, it was the fans who had taken it too far. And truly, I knew she would have enjoyed a true discussion on the differences just as much. Would have loved to see their passion for their chosen fandom the same way she loved listening to Jackie and I talk about our fan theories and love of this or that comic, despite the fact it never tempted her to go and pick up the comic herself. Was it really bad to enjoy the battle that ensued then?

“I guess not.” Tanvi hummed at that, before shrugging. With that, she quickly stood to her full height and smiled down at me, something about it all a firm statement that she was done with the conversation. At least for now.

“Are you feeling ok enough to keep going, or do you want to head back to the hotel. I don’t care either way, before you ask. I have a wicked murder mystery back in the room waiting for me or this fun here, so I’m good either way.” Taking a deep breath, I studied her. Warm, brown eyes and bright smile, strong shoulders and a friendly hand held out to help me up. My symbol of safety and comfort. Smiling back, I told myself to be just a little braver today and reached up to the outstretched hand.

“Let’s keep going. I’ll let you know if I need to bail.” Tanvi nodded as she firmly gripped me.

“Ok.” Smoothly she pulled me to my feet. As I awkwardly regained my footing, Tanvi tucked my arm under hers so we looked like two girls from an Anne of Green Gables novel meandering along, arm in arm. Not two seconds in and Tanvi was pointing something else out to me.

“Oh look, the Marvel fandom is right over there.” Turning to me she flashed her charismatic grin, “Why don’t we see what fun we can stir up over there.” Then she dragged me along to act as witness to her dangerous games, because everyone knows that you have only yourself to blame if you get hurt during a fan war, especially if you started it.

“Wait, wasn’t there a story line about a Civil War, between Ironman and Captain America? Who was the good guy in that?”

Remember what I said about watching the world burn?

#writing prompt #original writing #originalwriting #creativepromptsforwriting

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