#aziraphale and crowley
Coming...Someday I hope o gawd: Aftermath
One more preview! (Though let me know if you enjoyed these.)
As I was completing “What it Means to Be A Demon” I began working on a Noah’s Ark fic, also part of Sawdust of Words. The idea was that it would be shorter than WIMTBAD and have a more even balance of hurt and comfort (as opposed to a massive hurt fest with about the minimal amount of comfort that still made for a satisfying ending).
At current count, it stands around 25k and is a mess. A mess that has defeated multiple beta readers’ ability to try and get it in order. And tbh I haven’t touched it in a while BUT I still intend to finish it one day!
(Seriously, I even foreshadowed some of it in WIMTBAD, because I do plan things. You don’t even want to know what my brain is like.)
I’ve posted about my issues before, but the main ones are:
1. I started trying to do this in media res/jumping between timelines thing that was really cool in my head. It did not work. I now have a bunch of random scenes with no idea how they’re all supposed to hang together.
2. Shockingly, this is angstier than I expected. The angst also went in an unexpected direction. Specifically, ummm...there’s quite a bit that deals with the psychological trauma of isolation. Hoo boy, did I not expect THAT to resonate so strongly when I started in December 2019!
But! I am determined to finish this, not least because it contains a few puzzle pieces to the larger Sawdust of Words story. And also because we all love our Noah’s Ark Angst.
So in the interest of trying to convince myself, I give you the first two scenes! (Maybe. Depends if I do the in media res thing or not.)
And only the first two. We hit the angst fast in this. If I added the third and DIDN’T have the rest of the fic ready to go you would all hate me forever.
Mesopotamian Floodplain, 3004 BC
It was not exactly the joyful reunion Crawley had been anticipating for a thousand years.
“But they’re drowning everyone else?”
Aziraphale nodded, biting his lips, refusing to meet Crawley’s eyes no matter how they bored into him.
Rain clouds gathered from every direction, boiling in the sky above. Thunderheads miles tall, shading from black to grey to white, stretched from horizon to horizon, looming like a nightmare, while blue-white lightning flashed from one to the next.
It had reminded Crawley of the day they met. As he’d approached the crowd, wondering what the excitement was all about, he’d felt the glowing presence of an angel nearby. He’d been delighted to see Aziraphale again, to find out what he’d been up to for the last three hundred sixty-two thousand five hundred thirty-three days.
That hadn’t lasted long.
The demon glanced down again, taking in the line of animals making their way towards an enormous boat, sat incongruously in the middle of the summer-dry desert. Nearby, a group of children chased each other, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.
“Not the kids. You can’t kill kids.”
And that was it. Aziraphale was going to stand there and watch this happen. Without a word.
He shouldn’t be surprised. He shouldn’t be disappointed. After all, Aziraphale was an angel.
That was what angels did.
“What, precisely, do you think you’re going to do?” Aziraphale demanded, chasing after Crawley, hands waving uselessly at the raging demon. Already the wind was setting their robes to flap wildly, twisting Crawley’s long hair this way and that.
“I don’t know but – I’m not going to just stand there like – like an angel.”
For a moment, he thought that would be enough. He walked away, leaving Aziraphale to glare at him in that superior angelic way, effect only slightly ruined by the way his jaw hung open.
But the next moment, there he was again, clutching at his pristine cream robes and half-running to try and get in front of Crawley. “Look, there’s nothing you can do. The rains will start any moment and then –”
“And then everyone drowns. I hope you have a good seat reserved.”
Crawley spun to pin the angel with his most furious scowl. Aziraphale froze, gulping as if to swallow his own tongue, shrinking back. “I’ll be…I’ve been assigned to stay on the Ark. Watch over Noah’s family.”
“It’s…it’s a great honor.”
Crawley didn’t even know what to say.
“Well. Congratulations, Angel. Good to see you’ve gone up in the world since we last met.” Aziraphale had the audacity to almost-smile at that, and Crawley felt the bile rising in his throat. “So. You’re going to be safe and dry inside that Ark, while all these people die? You’re going to sit there with your head tucked under your wings and pretend it’s not happening?”
“No. I’ll…” Aziraphale was staring at his own clasped hands, as if trying to memorize the way the carefully manicured fingers twisted. “I was…I plan to…to watch.”
“Watch? Watch?” Crawley spun away. “You disgust me, Aziraphale.”
This time the angel made no effort to follow him. But Crawley didn’t get far. Just ahead, he saw a young woman leading a child by the hand, returning to the mudbrick houses in the distance. He spun, pointing at them. “Are you going to tell me these people – this whole village – is so wicked, the Almighty has no choice but to kill them all?”
Aziraphale bit his lips, twisting his head as if trying to find some direction to look. He certainly wasn’t looking where Crawley pointed, or towards the village, or the Ark…
“What? Not just the town?” He could see the angel flinch. “How far?”
“Gabriel…” Aziraphale cleared his throat, re-clasping his hands behind his back. “Gabriel implied…The whole river valley, I should think. All the way back to the mountains.”
“But that’s…that’s thousands of people!”
“Yes, Crawley,” he snapped, finally bringing his cold blue eyes up to meet the demon’s glare. “Thousands of people who are many days’ travel away but it’s…it’s part of the Plan. There’s a Reason for this and there’s…there’s nothing you can do.”
The first drops of rain fell, steaming hot on his shoulders, to be drunk greedily by the parched ground.
“Jusst watch me.”
So uhhhhh yup. Thoughts?
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This is a Good Omens /Hunchback of Notre Dame AU Fic.
Aziraphale is an apprentice/deacon and has been transferred from Tadfield to Notre Dame in Paris. While there he will be under the guidance of Gabriel and Sandalphon the Vicar and the Judge of the cathedral. While touring the cathedral he longs to see the bells, when the suggestion is immediately forbidden Aziraphale becomes curious, but not as curious as he is about the flaming red hair he has seen by the bell tower.
Crowley lives in the bell tower, hidden away from the world. A skin disease called greyscale has turned his skin thick grey and black and scale-like. He is the bellringer for the cathedral, which let's him carve wood and dance in peace away from jeering eyes. It's where his masters Gabriel and Sandalphon keep him, unbeknownst to them the new member of thr church has made him curious.
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Coming Eventually - Perfection
Another upcoming fic!
“Perfection” is a MAJOR angst-fest based on an anonymous prompt that got wildly out of hand, to the tune of 60k and counting. I said I was going to finish the fic before posting anything, due to the level of angst involved and not wanting to leave my readers on a cliffhanger (as I admit I’ve done more often than I’d like the last year). That was when I imagined the story would be 30k at most. This will easily top 100k by the time it’s done. It could be months before I get there, particularly if I work on other projects as I go. :(
I give you a short excerpt, the very first scene of the fic, which is extremely fluffy. Just so damn fluffy. Bed cuddles and ducklings fluffy. How does it turn into angst? Mwahahahaha...
The cottage stood in the middle of a perfect sprawling wilderness.
Every enjoyment one could desire was only a short walk away. A valley, perfect for long quiet hikes with the sun shining overhead. Tangled old woods filled with unusual birds and animals grazing with their young. For days that called for a bit more activity, twisted mountain trails, an exhilarating climb, emerging above the tree line just in time for a glorious sunset and the first stars. Whatever one liked, the cottage had it all.
Then, of course, there were the carefully manicured gardens, impossibly large, with flowers blooming in new combinations every day. Inside, a gazebo dripping in vines that rustled in the wind; a small orchard lining the grassy path leading down to the pond, filled with ducks and swans and brightly colored fish; and a hedge maze that was still only chest-height but would surely be brilliant if they just grew a little taller.
And inside, the most perfectly cozy space one could possibly imagine. Shelves laden with books and old films, works of art hung on the walls, and soft comfortable furniture. There was always music playing, and the smell of freshly baked bread in the oven.
The farthest one would dream of traveling was down to the seaside, a thrilling thirty-eight-minute drive by Bentley, along a road dotted with curious ancient ruins that begged for exploration, or fields where ambling sheep nibbled on grass, watched over by clever dogs that were friendly to kind visitors.
The weather was always perfect: sunny summer days; cool autumn nights around the campfire; merry spring rainfalls tapping on the windows; winter mornings with a fresh blanket of soft, crunchy snow.
And Crowley was there.
Every time Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open, there was Crowley, waking beside him in bed, smiling as if Aziraphale were the most wonderous creature who ever existed. No matter how long they lived together, Crowley never failed to greet him with that joyous expression and a warm kiss, slow and loving, their limbs tangling together under the blankets.
“Good morning, dear,” Aziraphale said when they’d finished. “Did you have another nightmare?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Crowley pressed close, head resting on his chest. “M’here now.” He brought Aziraphale’s hand to his face, gently kissing his palm. “Angel. You’re…so soft…”
“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” Aziraphale laughed, pulling Crowley closer against his round stomach. He glanced down, and for a moment his smile faltered. It wasn’t right for an angel to be soft like that. Body or soul.
“It is.” Crowley kissed his shoulder, then trailed his lips up the curve of his neck. “Soft is good. All the best things are soft.” His mouth hovered near Aziraphale’s. “I’ve had enough of – of hard edges, and coldness, and sharp things and…” He pressed against Aziraphale’s cheek. “I just want this now. Softness. Forever.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your dream?” He never did, but they seemed to come more and more often. Aziraphale found it worrying, to say the least.
“No. Let’s just…enjoy our day.” Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s forehead, and the angel could feel the curve of his smile. “What do you think? Breakfast in bed? Take the path out to the meadow for a picnic? I don’t think we could ever have enough picnics.”
“That does sound lovely. Oh, and we could stop to feed the ducks on the way.”
“Yeah. Found another nest yesterday. Fifteen eggs.”
“Goodness. What were the other two?”
“Ten and thirteen. We’re going to be swarmed with ducklings in a month.”
“A horrifying fate.” Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s shoulder, bared where his pajama top had gone askew. “Breakfast, ducks, picnic. And a nice cup of cocoa by the fire at the end of the day.”
“Mmmmh. Perfect.” Tossing the blankets aside, Crowley sat up and started to swing out of bed. “I’ll get breakfast ready, you can—”
“Oh, no.” Aziraphale grabbed his demon and pulled him back into the cocoon of blankets, pressing him into the bed to keep him from escaping. “You’re not getting away that easily.”
“But you said—”
“I said it sounded lovely. But you said you wanted softness. And that, I think, I can provide.” Aziraphale enveloped Crowley in his arms, trailing kisses up his neck, slowly and patiently. There was no rush; they had all day.
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Mpreg: Aziraphale did the test, no longer look at the result!
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First Lines Tag Game!
Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line, then tag 10 of your favourite authors!
I was tagged by @starryfull13 and I appreciate the tag so much!! This game looks so fun ahrdjrdfgh time to expose my lines!! I’m going from most recent to least recent. Also I have exactly 20 works up right now so this is perfect!! :D
1. It was a crying day for our Aziraphale. - Unalloyed Joy
2. “Crowley? I need your assistance with something, if you have a moment!” - A Valentine’s Day Surprise
3. Soho, London. - Ab Imo Pectore (okay this one is literally two words sjrdjrjsr)
4. Anthony J. Crowley was leaning against the door frame to his classroom, sipping his iced coffee and watching other teachers bustle around the halls of the school. - Across The Hall
5. It was Christmas Eve. - But if you really hold me tight... (this one also has like no substance jshdrhd but perhaps dramatics call for such tactics??)
6. Crowley was on his way back to the bookshop. - Sweetly Scented Splendor (ngl I straight up forgot I wrote this fic)
7. There’s a full moon illuminating the sky, accompanied by brilliant stars. - I Want it All
8. Aziraphale was navigating through the city with ease. - Five Miracles Aziraphale Performed Accidentally and One that was Entirely Intentional (when the title is longer than the first sentence hsheshs)
9. Crowley awoke to an empty bed. - A Sticky Situation
10. Warlock was sitting at the dining room table, playing with his toy cars. - Sunburnt
11. It was a pleasantly warm summer night. - One Sentimental Moment
12. Crowley had seen Aziraphale yesterday. - Eavesdropping
13. “Warlock, dear, it’s almost time for supper! ...” - Once Upon A Time
14. It had been an uneventful two months. - Patience is a Virtue
15. Crowley was taking a walk in St James’s Park. - Is this the real life?
16. Crowley didn’t exactly know why he had driven over to the book shop at 8 pm tonight, but he had. - The Weeping Angel
17. “Oh, Crowley, I’ve frequently visited this shop! ...” - Bubble Tea
18. Crowley burst into Anathema’s cottage, tears streaming down his face. - Morning Porridge
19. “You are so impulsive!!” - An Impulsive Knight In Dark Armour
20. Crowley was with Aziraphale at his bookshop. - More Heavenly Than Heaven
Okayyyyy I am so surprised by how straightforward/simple many of these lines are!! It’s interesting :) I think my favourite is number 7, from I Want it All. I like that I can immediately picture where they are. I also really like the dialogue ones because they get right into the story! :)
I tag... whomever wants to do this challenge and hasn’t been tagged yet!! If that’s you - go for it, I’m tagging you!!!! <3
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Amazon Prime UK still has no chill.
That's okay. We like them that way.
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Coming Soon - Absence of Words
Great news! The new Sawdust of Words fic is finally ready! I’ll be posting it some time this week (likely Friday, but I might manage to swing it sooner if I have a day where I’m not too exhausted after work).
“Absence of Words” will pick up shortly after the ending of “Finding the Words” - with Aziraphale and Crowley having freshly established that yes, they love each other, that can definitely be a thing going forward.
However, Crowley’s difficulties communicating (as discussed in “Finding the Words” and demonstrated in “Three Little Words”) quickly land them in trouble, as the miscommunication rapidly goes from “kind of amusing” to “annnnngst.”
I mean, it’s me. Was it ever going to be not angst?
The full fic will be a little over 13k. Excerpt below (2 scenes, one of which I posted an early version of...dang...more than a year ago?!)! Feel free to leave a comment/ask/private message with your thoughts!
(Note: because some people prefer to know what kind of ending to prepare themselves for, I’ll give a brief description after the excerpt, as well as CWs for the fic as a whole).
They walked for more than half an hour, hands still twined together.
Aziraphale spoke the whole time, more animated with every step, and Crowley drank it all in. He paid no attention to where they were, how far they walked, how late it was getting. All that mattered was they were here, they were together, really together.
They’d done it. They’d done everything.
Stopped the Apocalypse.
Fooled their sides.
Won their freedom.
And then, in the garden…Crowley’s lips still tingled, recalling the brush of Aziraphale’s. He almost couldn’t believe it had happened, couldn’t believe he’d dared. His breath caught in his throat every time he remembered that he now lived in a world where he had kissed Aziraphale. A world where nothing would come between them ever again. Each time Aziraphale’s eyes drifted over to him, Crowley was certain he’d discorporate on the spot.
The angel waved his arms as he talked. He pulled Crowley’s hand along with each gesture – sudden jerks ahead of them, tugs across his chest, complicated circles as if trying to draw what he described. More than once he nearly pulled Crowley off balance; Aziraphale didn’t know his own strength.
It would have been easier to let go.
He probably should let go – his palm was warm where it had been pressed against Aziraphale’s for half an hour, his fingers stiff and itching, longing to move again. The chills running up his arm, almost more than he could bear, were the most exquisite torture he’d ever suffered. Every time their palms shifted, finding a new position against each other, it pierced him like an arrow, tore through his heart, leaving it fluttering and juddering and palpitating like nothing else ever had. Crowley really, really needed to let go.
“Are you all right, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, glancing over.
“M’fine.” He gently squeezed the soft fingers locked through his, starting another wave of bliss that threatened to overwhelm him even before Aziraphale graced him with that smile…
Yeah. He wasn’t letting go any time soon.
Crowley’s hand was in his.
Aziraphale could hardly believe it had happened, hardly believe he’d dared. This seemed, somehow, the most momentous thing to have happened all weekend, though an outside observer would probably disagree. Well. That observer didn’t understand.
They’d started walking, the impulsiveness had come over him again and he – Aziraphale – the angel who dithered over every choice, every action – the angel who likely hadn’t taken the initiative on anything within living memory – he’d run his hand down Crowley’s arm and…
Well. Here they were.
They hadn’t spoken about it. Hadn’t really acknowledged it. But neither had let go.
Once he had his bearings, it shouldn’t have taken long to get back to his shop. But Aziraphale put it off as long as he could. They paused in front of dozens of shop windows, remarking on the pastries or clothing or sports equipment on display, but in truth Aziraphale was just looking at his own reflection, a fussy old angel, anxious and overeager, standing beside an exquisite demon radiating suave confidence. Quite the mismatched pair and yet, that’s what they were: a pair.
Perhaps even a couple.
Oh, dear, that seemed far too bold.
Aziraphale stumbled over whatever nonsense he’d been saying, and quickly turned away from the window. He glanced up to see if Crowley had noticed his distress, and oh, through those black lenses he could just catch a glimpse of golden slit-pupil eyes watching him directly, not just a glance from the corner of an eye. He’d been nodding along to everything Aziraphale said, that smirk hovering on his lips, threatening to turn into an actual smile. Crowley squeezed his hand, gently, as if to make sure it was still there, and it sent Aziraphale’s heart racing again.
Finally, after forty-five minutes, they ran out of detours and excuses and reached the last intersection: Soho to the left, Mayfair to the right.
His footsteps slowed as they approached. Aziraphale didn’t want to let go, not yet, didn’t want to relinquish the warmth, the feeling of the uneven heartbeat against his palm, the tiny shiver he felt whenever Crowley’s thumb brushed the back of his hand.
They paused at the corner, Aziraphale looking left, Crowley glaring straight ahead.
“Well.” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He glanced down at their hands. Oh, dear. He didn’t seem to know how to let go.
“Nh,” Crowley said.
“Come now, dear fellow, you know this is the quickest way home for both of us. Twenty minutes. Fifteen, if you drive like you always do.”
“Nnnnnnh,” Crowley elaborated.
Aziraphale ordered his fingers to let go. Traitorous things, they only held on tighter.
“I could walk you back to the shop,” Crowley pointed out. “Or we could pick up the Bentley together, then drive over. Quicker that way. We can grab whatever you need…”
“What part of it’s a surprise are you having trouble with?” He meant it to be teasing, but Crowley’s lips went tight anyway. Aziraphale put a bit of extra cheer into his voice. “Look, as I understand, it’s proper etiquette for the individual with the car to pick up the other, when two people are…” He trailed off, considering in fascination all the words he could use to complete that sentence. “And…it wouldn’t hurt to have a moment to, I don’t know…”
He honestly didn’t know.
But the longer he stood in Crowley’s gaze, the more certain he was that he needed to step away. A thousand emotions were bubbling up inside him, and he needed space to process them, privately, before they burst out in the most unseemly—
“Aziraphale.” Crowley turned, and his fingers hovered by the angel’s face, as if not sure where to touch. “Do you…want to be alone right now?”
“That’s not…” He swallowed, finding he couldn’t look away from Crowley’s mouth. His lips. Did he want to kiss them again? Or be kissed? Both were terrifying. Both were tempting.
Crowley took his other hand, leaning closer.
“Yes. I do.”
Crowley went very still.
He thought his heart might burst; Aziraphale couldn’t tell one beat from the next. His hands started to tremble, and he stepped back, wiping them anxiously on his waistcoat, tugging it straight. “Don’t be – this isn’t about – it’s nothing like that.” He straightened his tie. “I just – perhaps I could use a few minutes, yes, and there’s nothing – nothing of note about that, I’m sure you could too, but all in all this is the simplest solution, that’s – that’s all there is to it.”
It could be very hard to read Crowley’s expression, but just now his lips twisted, his jaw went tight, and Aziraphale felt his heart begin to ache. The demon circled him, fingers jammed in his pockets, and started towards Mayfair as fast as his long legs would carry him.
“Wait! Crowley, don’t—”
“Fifteen minutes, Angel. Be ready.”
He watched the dark figure until it disappeared around a corner. And only then did Aziraphale realize he’d let go of Crowley’s hand
NOTES AND SPOILERS
CWs: Mentions of past abuse (physical and emotional, very brief/implied); emotional manipulation/gaslighting (from the POV of Aziraphale, still believing what he’d been told); anxiety (low-level but constant, and building across the fic); miscommunication, accidentally hitting another’s triggers. Very brief G-rated discussion of attraction. Swearing.
Ending: This will have a happy ending. Not all communication issues will be resolved in this story, but groundwork will be laid. Future stories will deal with developing healthy communication/trauma coping strategies.
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Shorter fic but initially it was supposed to be a one shot. Impatient me couldn't wait!
Hope you enjoy it!
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Coming soon - De Amore
I’m excited to announce that I have written a fic for the upcoming @aceomenszine! This is my first in-print zine, and I’m super excited :D - follow them for more information about when to order and how!
“De Amore” - in which Aziraphale and Crowley have a very important conversation in Paris, 1793.
“What’s it like to be in love?”
Crowley stumbled to a stop on the Paris street, glaring at the angel beside him. Aziraphale stared straight ahead, walking with his usual expression: calm, poised, slightly arrogant. As if he were talking about the weather.
“Dunno. S’a human thing, isn’t it?” He scowled at a few gawking peasants, hurrying to catch up. “Romance. Lust. Sex. Nothing to do with us.”
“You could say the same of hunger, or exhaustion, or boredom.”
“Yeah, and I’d be right.” Crowley held out an arm to stop Aziraphale from walking directly into a produce cart. “Neither of us gets exhausted. You’re never tired, and I just like a good nap sometimes.”
“Really?” A flicker of that mocking bastard smirk. “How many nights did you sleep this past week?”
“Nrrg. Five or six, but that’s not the point.” They started walking again, Crowley tossing an apple he’d snuck from the cart. “I could stop if I wanted to — I’d miss it, but s’not the same as being tired. Same with you and eating.”
“But if I desire a food, so strongly I can already taste it, surely that’s…if not exactly hunger, a close approximation?”
“Don’t think so.” Crowley offered the apple, but Aziraphale shook his head. “Spend a couple days in the city, you’ll see what hunger looks like. S’not about pleasure or wanting a particular food. It’s need, desperation. And we just don’t experience that.” He tossed the apple towards a group of children, and a girl in a ragged dress caught it. “Boredom I’ll grant you. I’ve definitely been bored.”
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Haaas anyone done a Hunchback of Notre Dame AU? Or am I going to have to write it?
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Good Omens concept/AU
Aziraphale and Crowley are walking around a pride parade when they pass by a group of protestors. They see one protestor holding a sign that says “God Hates You.” Crowley looks him dead in the eye, takes off his sunglasses (revealing his serpent eyes), and says “I know and, you know what? I’m finally okay with that.” Then, he kisses his angel and flips the guy off.
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Mpreg: Crowley listens to the heart of her unborn child. He feels it moving through the flesh of his love too
I am not the only one to draw them while pregnant but I add my style. (You inspire me a lot @ineffableparents 🧡)
My Twitter nsfw:
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Aziraphale comforting Crowley in his magic (?) prison in Heaven just before falling🖤
(Did you really think I forgot my beloveds? Never! This is another snippet of a comic I'm drawing even if I'm too lazy to work on it right now)
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Night light and heat source
No more fear of the dark for the serpent of eden.
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NSFW : My angel, you are so sweet when dominate me 😍
Full version and not cropped here : https://twitter.com/Anthony28863859/status/1379166129281765376?s=19
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Started a new fic based on that sleep induced post I made a few weeks ago
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Happy late transgender day 💙💞🤍💞💙
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Crowley’s Request | Timelapse Charcoal Drawing
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Sticking the Landing
The Television shifted back to Houston and a little flash of light caught Aziraphale's wobbly attention. The bottle, there it was, still in his hand.
He sent it off very slowly through the air with a little puttering sound that his own lips supplied.
Had it orbit him once or twice, a little unsteadily.
The demon swatted the bottle away, eyes still struck to the screen.
"You know, I tell you. This is much harder to do than it was," said an astronaut far away.
"Keep it going," Houston answered.
"You're neglecting. The Chateau Margaux, demon bo- dear boy." Someone sniggered, sounding astonishingly like Aziraphale himself. "Dearmon boy."
I wrote a Softe little first-kiss fic set in 1969 (Ao3 link)
The Ineffables watch humanity land on the Moon.
Aziraphale takes a giant leap.
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Thinking of writting a super duper, dark and gritty Goodomens prequel about the fall, from Crowleys (and Ziras) perspective, Full of my headcanons because wish fulliment... I know it has definately been done before but propably not as dark as I plan too write it, plus I really want to pull apart the theology and the implications of that so it’ll be fun to write and hopefully to read too.
Might make it a comic because i’m keen on character desgins at the momment but my drawing is a tad rusty so who knows.