Megor
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Summary
„Hey, Sam. What's the longest a normal human being's gone without sleep? Eleven days. Hey, you always wanted to be normal, Sam. If you are, you'll be dead in a week!"
What if Sam had talked to Lucifer after he said those words? (Instead of getting hit by a car)
A Hallucifer-Story, in which Sam makes a deal with the devil to get some sleep. Starts during "The Born-Again Identity" and goes off track from there.
Bookmarked by Megor
02 Aug 2024
Bookmarker's Notes
The best. 1000000/10 omfg. Reread for the 2838483939 x time
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'“I’ve been falling for some time, through darkness, and pain, and fire. And then I saw you, shining through the shadows, and I knew you would catch me one day. But you didn’t, I fell right past you, further than I ever imagined I could, and now I wonder if I’ve finally hit the ground.”'
When a spell goes wrong Sam ends up stranded in the north Canadian wilderness with nothing to do but bunker down and wait for rescue, which wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the broken angel he's accidentally brought along for the ride.
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“Honestly? I say lean into it.” Anathema leaned forward, twirling her straw around in her iced latte. "Who knows. Sometimes stuff is just weird or inexplicable. Ineffable! Like you said. If it really is that out of the ordinary, there's gotta be a reason, right?"
"Hey, maybe the two of you knew each other in a past life or something," Newt said blithely, his eyes once again glued to the page in front of him, red pen to paper, scratching down notes in his nigh illegible shorthand. Anthony had always wondered how his students managed to decipher it. He scoffed.
"Ha ha," he uttered dryly, reaching back into his messenger bag to finally pull out the stack of neglected exams. "Come on, Newt, I'm a scientist. You know I don't believe in any of that stuff."
Newt looked up from his work a final time, staring at Anthony in a manner that made him feel strangely exposed.
"Doesn't mean you can't be wrong, mate."
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Rolan finds himself a secret admirer. Well, secret would be a blessing. This admirer, this damn bard, did anything but keep it a secret. Nirvana. Quite the opposite of what Nirvana actually means. Yet at every turn, she still seems to show up. Fawning over him. Caring. Godsdammit.
And if the world was perfect, you would be gone without a trace
But since the world could never be that great
I'll just hate your stupid face -
Petrichor & Parchment by MrsNoggin
Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)
20 Dec 2019
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Summary
“Mr. Crowley, I presume?” Aziraphale asked in lieu of an introduction, which was not forthcoming. The guy hadn’t even removed his sunglasses. Oh God, he had a tattoo on his face. Aziraphale wasn’t one to judge, but… what kind of gardener had a snake tattoo on his face?
Now also available as a podfic from Literarion
Series
- Part 1 of Petrichor & Parchment