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onceuponapuffin · 26 days

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Fanatic Intervention Part 7!!!

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It will not surprise you at all, dear Reader, to learn that Aziraphale keeps very little in his kitchen cupboards. There is no stove or oven, and the only thing in the fridge is milk (for his tea no doubt). When you start opening cupboards, you find one pack of custard creams, and a second one of chocolate digestives. Well, it will have to do. You find yourself a small plate and fill it half and half before heading back into the shop just in time to say goodbye to Anathema and Newt.

As they leave, you turn to the supernatural entities in the room.

“So,” You say, “If we’re going to the States, then we have a few problems. First, I don’t have my passport or any ID at all, so airport security is going to be fun. Second, I have no money. Third, I’m gonna need a Walmart or something because I don’t even have a toothbrush, my dudes. Fourth, these,” You indicate the cookies, “are fine for a snack, but overall they’re not gonna cut it.”

“You just leave the airport security to us,” Aziraphale replies. You make a note that he glided right past ‘my dudes,’ they’re getting used to you already. Dammit. “As for the rest of it,” Aziraphale continues, “I suppose a trip to Tesco’s is in order.”

Crowley produces a shiny black credit card from nowhere and hands it to you. “We’ll take the Bentley,” he says. He starts to stand, but you shake your head.

“Nuh-uh, you both stay here,” You say. Crowley raises his eyebrow.

“You realize we can take care of ourselves,” he says, “We’ve been doing it for a few millennia.”

“I’m not talking about that,” You say, “Look, what we’re going into is really dangerous. And I know that your pattern is to just wait to talk about things until you’re in the clear, but that’s not a good idea anymore. I mean, I get that I’m not exactly an expert, but I read just as much as you do and I’ve heard a million stories by this point in my life, and in NONE of them do people ever say ‘I’m so glad I never told them how I feel’ - you know? It’s always ‘I wish I would have’ or ‘I should have told them every day.’ So Muriel and I will go ask Maggie to take us to Tesco, and you two need to talk. Please. While it’s safe, while you have the chance, before things get dangerous and possibly deadly.”

Crowley and Aziraphale are silent. You notice that they aren’t looking at each other. Well, you’ve done your best. Now you need to trust them.

At this point, dear Reader, you are probably thinking to yourself ‘well I would snoop and spy on them while they talk! I want to watch them make out!’ But here is the thing – in this world they are real people, not characters. It’s one thing to say that you would creep on them from the other side of this fiction, but when they’re very real and looking at you in person, things are a little different. For one thing, you realize that real people deserve things like boundaries and privacy, especially for sensitive conversations.

And so, you take Muriel over to Maggie’s shop, where you explain that Mr. Fell has sent the two of you on an errand and you need to stop for dinner somewhere and have no idea where anything is. You flash her the credit card and say ‘It’s all on me,’ and she conveniently agrees with a look on her face that says something like ‘least they could do after all that shit they put us through.’

So the three of you go for dinner at the nearest Weatherspoons, where you and Maggie eat while Muriel watches in morbid fascination. Then you all take the bus to Tesco where you buy yourself a small wardrobe, and manage to coax Muriel into some light blue jeans and an argyle jumper so they look a little less like the Beacon of Gondor. You quickly find out that Muriel has an adorable fascination with fuzzy socks, novelty mugs, and coloured pencils. Of course, you enable their fascinations with a happy heart, and as an afterthought, you grab them a small pot of orange daisies from the flower section. It will give them something alive to tend to while you’re gone. Muriel appreciates the thought. All in all, it’s a long but good time.

You don’t know about the talk, and you’re worried about asking when you get back.

THAT BEING SAID

You and I, dear Reader, not actually being in that world, are allowed certain privileges.

The bookshop is silent for a long time. Both of them are thinking, digesting, processing. Feelings are hard to feel, and harder to put into words. Especially when it has been made clear, twice now in the span of a number of hours, that you absolutely need to put them into words.

It isn’t until after Crowley notices you, Muriel, and Maggie heading down the street that he stands up and begins to pace. A few more minutes pass before he speaks.

“So...uhm...are you going to go first or should I?”

“Are we...are we actually going to do this? Have this talk I mean?” Aziraphale has been shelving books to try and take the edge off. Now he puts down the book in his hands and absent-mindedly fidgets with his ring.

“Well, I mean we don’t have to,” Crowley says, aiming for non-chalance and missing ever-so-slightly, “No one can actually make us.”

“Yes, except it feels very much like everyone is trying to.”

“Trying is the key word there.”

“That’s true enough I suppose.”

The silence returns and stretches. It is anything but comfortable. The air is full of words that they have been told they should say, words that perhaps they want to say, but words that have been dammed up with fear and uncertainty for so long now that they’ve become very hard to un-stick. After a while, Aziraphale clears his throat and speaks.

“I, erm, I suppose you had better go first.”

“Me, right, okay.” Crowley clears his throat now and stops his pacing near the desk. He looks down at the scattered papers and books, the pens and photos and newspaper clippings. The assorted clutter of Aziraphale’s life. Looking away makes it easier to start. He takes a breath. “Um..right...well...we’ve known each other a long time. We’ve been on this planet a long time – you and me, I mean. I’ve always been able to rely on you, and you’ve always relied on me,” another breath, “We’re a team, yeah? A group of the two of us. And...erm...we pretend that we aren’t. Always have. Safer that way I guess.” He looks up at Aziraphale. The angel isn’t looking at him, but he nods anyway to show that he’s listening. Crowley continues. “And I mean...I’ve tried not to think about it much before but...but it would be nice, I mean, UGH” He takes off his sunglasses and rubs a hand over his eyes as though he can massage the words and make them easier to say. “I mean, I would like to spend...mmm….I would like to spend the rest not pretending anymore. Be an us. I mean,” suddenly the dam breaks, and Crowley finds the words come tumbling out, “If Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, we can. We don’t need Heaven or Hell, they’re both toxic. We can be an us, on our side. You and me. What do you say?” He looks at Aziraphale without reservation now. His angel looks back at him, eyes wide. When he does speak, it’s with a smile and a small nod of acknowledgment rather than agreement.

“That was very well done Crowley,” he says. This isn’t an answer.

“Nnyeah, thanks. Your turn though.”

“Right, I suppose it is.” Aziraphale takes a moment to gather himself. After hearing Crowley be so open about this, he feels more resolved himself to do this properly. He faces Crowley and folds his hands to keep himself grounded. “Crowley,” he begins, “I...I wish that this conversation were happening under better circumstances. Although it’s been pointed out that ideal circumstances aren’t a promise that we can wait around for. Well, the thing is that I would like the same thing. Very much in fact. My biggest concern by far is for your safety because, well, frankly I don’t see the point in saving the world again if you’re not around to enjoy it with me. An us, as you said. You and me.” He smiles. Crowley smiles.

“Guess we’d better save the world together then. And try not to die.”

“Yes, quite.”

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, Crowley?”

“You’re my angel. No one else.”

“And you, my wiley serpent. No one else.”

The shop bell dings.

“We’re baaaaaack!” You sing as you waltz through the door, shopping bags in hand. Muriel follows after you, carefully carrying their daisies. “Did you miss us?”

When you eventually get the courage to ask them about their talk later, you get a “ngk” from Crowley, and a “We’ve said all that needs to be said, for now.” from Aziraphale. And that, you suppose, will have to do.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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wellpresseddaisy · 5 months

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The Head of House Therapy Circle and Needlework Club

Severus slipped into the staff room after dinner. He clutched his work bag in cold hands—would he be welcome? He’d refused the invitation for years, preferring to spend the evening with Charity or with his Slytherins. He should make an effort to integrate with the other house heads, he supposed.

But…

Steeling himself, he crossed the room to the circle of chairs around the fire. No matter how strange it felt walking into the Senior Staff Lounge, he had as much a right to be there as anyone else.

“Oh, Severus, you joined us!” Pomona exclaimed, setting down her embroidery and bustling to him. “Come, come and sit. We have a place right be the fire for you—those dungeons are so perishingly cold these days. And Minerva even braved…er, what was it again?”

“Tesco.” McGonagall replied so drily that Severus had to bite his lip.

“Oh yes, such names they have in the non-magical world. Well, she brought several packets of the most interesting biscuits and we have some lovely hot tea. Filius was just telling us about some horrendous editor he’s been forced to work with on his latest monograph.” Pomona prattled him to a comfortable chair.

McGonagall, who sat just across from him, gave him an incredibly droll look from behind Pomona at the ‘most interesting biscuits’ remark. He forgot, sometimes, that she’d lived in the non-magical world. He never wanted to be the sort who forgot where he came from.

He let their conversation wash over him as he sorted out his projects. Da’s would be easy—he could do that kind of cable work in his sleep. Likewise the scarf Da asked him to make for his mate Tom. He’d been a good friend to the family since they met so many years ago. Severus pulled that one out, thick and warm as anything in burgundy wool. It wasn’t a difficult pattern as knitting went.

Nan’s Christmas jumper would have to wait until he returned to his rooms. He’d finally found a pattern for a copy of that ‘I’m a luxury few can afford’ jumper that Nan loved so much on Princess Diana.

“Editors,” Pomona picked up the conversation as if it hadn’t been interrupted. “Are perfect ghouls. Did I tell you about the one that wanted the entire section on the propagation of the Bounding Spike Shrub gone? Said it would only encourage people to try. They should try. The bloody thing is about to disappear from our moors.”

“Er, yes, Pomona. I believe we heard about it at the time,” Filius replied gently. “Mine feels that an entire monograph on Cheering Charms is too limited in scope. They simply won’t understand that that’s the whole point. No one has done work just on Cheering Charms in nearly two hundred years! We’re woefully out of date.”

“Are these freelance editors or with particular houses?” Severus ventured, never looking up from his stitching.

“Mine’s a submissions editor with Draycott House. A shame, really, as they’re so well-regarded in academic publishing and Oxford and Cambridge won’t touch a ‘schoolteacher’s manuscript’,” Filius sighed over the last.

“I was with Halston’s. They do the Herbology journals,” Pomona added.

“Have we ever looked at setting up a publishing house out of Hogwarts?” he asked hesitantly.

“A…Severus, that’s a brilliant idea!” Filius nearly jabbed himself with a tapestry needle.

“It would be doable, I suppose.” McGonagall spoke slowly. “If we work with freelance editors and go about it carefully.”

“There are quite a few researchers I know who haven’t the full credentials who are doing really interesting work. And it might be a good way to introduce that sort of academic work to our NEWT students. A student journal would be just the thing!” Pomona set her embroidery down carefully.

“I thought…” Severus trailed off when he realized everyone had stopped to look at him.

“Yes?” McGonagall prompted.

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while now. We could even publish our own teaching materials. I know most of us set a text and use it mostly as reference.”

“That has long been my own experience,” McGonagall agreed. “The Transfiguration books on the market are useful guides, but they haven’t been updated or weren’t really meant as textbooks. Foundational learning as scattered notes from lectures is not the same as an authoritative text one can reference.”

“It would be lovely to have properly illustrated texts for Herbology. Filius, would you be able to see how much a binding press might cost? I saw one of them at work on holiday last year. We needn’t get a very large one yet. Freelance editing is really quite affordable.” Pomona produced a notebook and scribbled something down. “One of my former Hufflepuffs runs a paper mill. I’ve made a note to inquire about appropriate paper and potential costs.”

Severus stared at the ruthless efficiency of Pomona Sprout.

“I’ll write for a catalog,” Filius promised. “I think I know of a manufacturer. A Ravenclaw with a real passion for mechanical things.”

McGonagall caught Severus’ eye and smiled thinly.

“You get used to them,” she promised, sotto voce. “Organizing everything is how they have fun. Biscuit? I got the chocolate caramel digestives and Hob Nobs.”

Severus took a Hob Nob, still feeling a bit unsettled at how quickly that went.

“Now, we’re all dying to know what Mayhew is after with those pamphlets he’s spreading everywhere.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “He’s trying to bring back the Protectorate and Puritan rule. It has caused no end of disruption in the SCR since he refuses to room with ‘filthy papists’ and ‘heathens’. I’ve had to give him his own room lest he comes to a sticky end. He’s managed to alienate every other student in the House.”

The other three stared at him.

“And here I thought my Ravenclaws’ experiments were difficult to handle!” Filius chuckled.

“At least he has a purpose in life,” McGonagall laughed. “Have another biscuit, Severus. I think you need them more than we do.”

McGonagall, Severus thought, wasn’t so terrible when you were her colleague. He took another biscuit.

“This is why we shouldn’t go about naming children Redemption-in-His-Name. What on earth is the matter with John or Charles or Vikram or something normal?” Pomona shook her head and took up her embroidery again. “You’ll have to keep us updated on his progress.”

“I…er, yes,” Severus answered.

“Who has a galleon on Moore—the Ravenclaw one in fifth year—making it to the end of the year without having a breakdown and who has a galleon on a breakdown?” Pomona asked cheerfully.

Severus looked to his knitting and willed his heart to stop pounding so. He’d done it. He’d had an actually pleasant conversation with the other house heads and no one disagreed with him or behaved rudely.

Perhaps he really could make a place for himself here.

#snolidays2023 #snolidays woolen #severus snape #Severus isn't quite certain he belongs yet #set somewhere in 1985 or 1986

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soup-of-the-daisies · 6 months

Note

Literally Peter in the graveyard voldesoup scene:

KFVDKSBSB PLEASE IM CRYING

More voldesoup for your reading pleasure:

Peter is quite certain that he wouldn’t have voluntarily made soup for those he loves most in the world, like James or Harry, maybe Remus, probably not Sirius. Sirius doesn’t like soup either, anyway — or used to? Honestly, Azkaban probably destroyed Padfoot’s picky eating — so it’s not as though it’s a very rude thing in that regard.

Peter is, however, currently making soup—erm, a potion. A resurrection potion… a resurrection soup, for someone he doesn’t even love: only a mother could love the face of that rather terrifying homunculus the Dark Lord’s soul currently resides in, and Peter’s quite certain the Dark Lord is some sort of orphan (he has the vibe of someone with severe abandonment issues), so there’s that.

The Dark Lord is reclining in a little hammock that Peter fashioned out of a stolen muggle swaddle. He’s hanging somewhat above the cauldron, though a little out of the way, and is giving increasingly unhelpful suggestions. They’re ranging from ‘Add some pepper, Wormtail!’ to ‘It smells like something is missing. Fix it now, Wormtail!’ and he’s kind of killing Peter’s resurrection-potion-soup-making-mood. What a fucking bother—and it’s not like he can quickly pop by Tesco’s for some more root vegetables, can he? He can’t leave the Dark Lord alone, even if he can leave the soup-potion to simmer for a while. It probably won’t be ruined. But then it’s the question of how he’d smuggle the Dark Lord into a Tesco.

The image of wrapping the swaddle around him with Lord Voldemort tucked safely against his masculine bosom just for Peter to purchase some turnips pops up in his head very suddenly, and Peter accidentally shakes a bit too much ground eye-of-newt into the bubbling liquid. The Dark Lord, predictably, starts yelling about ‘flavour balance’ and ‘Your Lord knew we should have gone with exact grams!’, and Peter is tempted to shake even more into the potion. Alas, he’d promptly be murdered, and that’s kind of not what he’s going for.

#voldesoup #peter pettigrew #lord voldemort #ask #influx #harry eventually joins in and it’s HILARIOUS

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limetimo · 8 months

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RAB fics I read (Aug pt2)

Ice Ice Baby by Calypte ICE SCATER REGULUS also trans reg in poly ship with rosekiller AND james (who's with lily, multishippers be winning). Also the Blacks are divorced and reg grew up in France

Watch The Lights Go Wild by HuffleStar for xpandorasbox, definitelynotttheo, vianexa James/Regulus/Barty/Evan

New Beginnings by Azkaban_Jailbird jegulus, and they were roommates

honey honey by aeoneskova it'S about Marlene being a war survivor and Harry's elementary teacher and there's a really neat Regulus subplot (boy's dead) I fucken love it

Love Potion No. 9 by crackspines Regulus drinks alove potion and falls madly in love with James... or does he?

Werewolves of London by crackspines Regulus gets bitten under the Willow, jegulus

Mortal Once More by SheOfTheBookAndSong Regulus survives cave and goes to Dumbledore ect ect v nice

as if I've ever seen the stars align by Zazzander baby regulus is upsetti

the slow corruption and atonement of Regulus BlackLanguage: English Words: 110,036 Chapters: 32/? Comments: 32 Kudos: 89 Bookmarks: 13 Hits: 2,215Last visited: 13 Aug 2023 (Update available.) Visited 32 times

Declared False Start by Wanderingdonut I LOVE THIS SO MUCH regulus is crumbling under the weight of his parent's expectations/abuse and sirius reaches out a helping hand. aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh this one hit so many good spots!!

A Snake in Wolf's Clothing by PortraitofEmpathy regulus gets chomped by moony

mess it up by regulushasanewmomitsme regulus and remus make out a lot but really it's about wolfstar being stupid

So Happy To Serve by KrisKikstorky Omega Regulus gets bonded to Alpha Voldemort. It's not a healthy relationship on so many levels but Regulus is determined to make it work and be happy! So Eager To Please by KrisKikstorky Regulus may be an Omega willingly and happily bonded to a genocidal evil overlord but he has RIGHTS and he will NOT have them abused. I fucking love them your honour

My Jamie by twisted_tales_told jegulus angst comfort

Vows Made Of Wine by twisted_tales_told jegulus if we were villains au

the wrong brother by ThesteralQueen regulus and remus fake date to get their crushes (james and sirius) jealous

A Passing Dream by Elfflame lily accidentally discovers remus/regulus is a thing, sad ending

We All Have Our Kinks and Limits and There Is Nothing to Be Ashamed Of, Right? by KrisKikstorky jegulus kinky times

A (somewhat unconventional) Black Family Getaway by Trex_patronus regulus and sirius, Azkaban escapees, are on a fieldtrip :D

starling by Zazzander baby regulus is not having a good time rn

the art of losing by pangaeaseas Regulus is Dealing with Sirius' ruanay-ness

but I am not resigned by pangaeaseas on the horcrux hunt, hermione encounters a ghost

For The Greater Good by Anna_Bell_Bri jegulily, jily survies halloween

All That Remains by CelesteMagnolia for Artemisia_Black_95, MerlinsSequinedHotPants regulus is a dumbass i want to beat him up in tesco parking lot

and I Looked Back on a Broken World by raziella harry and hermione time travel to marauders era

carpe diem by els31 :D :D modern muggle au jegulus doctor regulus

Twins Potter and The Goblet Of Fire by BeastlyRose023 regulus was reborn as harry's twin

Infested feast by Jsp_Jsp prank goes wrong, sad regulus, eating disorder

The Dawn of a Star by vini213 sirius and regulus scramble around to hide that regulus is trans from their parents

tides of the sun by kissyshima for sapphistic jegulus trans regulus

Swipe Left for Safety by Remy_Writes5 cute wolfstar, regulus is also there

From Fire to Fire by greyeyedmonster18 Sirius gets sorted to Slytherin to protect Regulus, took the mark, dropped out of hogwarts, spied, survived. Now he's back in London and Regulus signed him up for evening classes so that he can take his NEWTS. and the evening classes professor? No other than Remus Lupin!

ten reasons (to go to michigan) by greyeyedmonster18 writer remus meets artist sirius, Regulus is a good bro

Listening to your heartbeat (if only you knew how much I love it) by thestarsforus bartylus! also evan and regulus are vampires

L'Astre Noir by Calypte sirius wants to protect regulus, regulus can protect himself thank you very much, it'S fun

my pussy tastes like pepsi cola (my eyes are wide like cherry pies) by PsychiatristGirl underage animagus blackcest

Tiny Hands (or, Heg loo) by featherprongs jegulus raising harry

#fic rec #regulus black

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the-fiction-witch · 2 years

Text

Home P2

MOVIE MAZE RUNNER AU COUPLE: NEWT X READER RATING: SWEET AF

I had to get out.

I couldn't stay in this little room, in this little house for a moment longer.

I couldn't avoid my memories in this place so I grabbed my handbag shoving everything I needed into it. and I headed downstairs seeing my mother perched on the sofa watching a game show of some sort I wasn't sure, her coffee in her hand.

"Y/n. where are you going?" she sat up muting the tv

"Ohh just popping to the shop. Newt invited me over to catch up so I thought |I'd grab some pop and snacks like I use to"

"Ohhh" she smiled "all right then darling" she smiled "Here. grab yourself a few good chocolate bars" she smiled handing me a couple more notes

"I will" I nodded taking the money she gave me and heading for the door with my old keys

"Oh darling"

"Yeah?"

"Don't bother going to left dear the old spars' closed now. but if you go right there's a new little Tescos"

"Ahh thanks" I nodded realizing yeah I have been gone a while I don't know what's still here and what isn't, I walked right and soon enough reached the little Tescos I filled a bag with snacks and pop, and chocolate all the stuff we used to by in abundance I paid and headed out back down the street again, I noticed his bike here but the car was not so I wandered up the path somehow in my routine I still skipped over the large crack in the path the old battered crack made me smile, that it was still there. I went and knocked at the door and I saw the light behind the glass window turn on and soon enough the door opened

"Hey" Newt smiled leaning on the doorframe in a tattered old white hoodie

"hey, I brought Cherryaid"

"Ooooh then Come in young lady" he smiled happily ushering me in I smiled at his house seeing it much the same as I remembered even the patch on his hall wall painted red over the blue where his mother and father had planned to repaint the hall so they had swatched it on the wall, that was when me and newt were children. "Shall we go to the Oasis?"

"Sure" I sighed with a slight giggle, we always used to hang out in his 'oasis' as he called it, in truth, it was a little metal frame gazebo with a blue fabric over it, he pitched the little gazebo when he was young mostly because he shares a bedroom with his little sister and really she had taken over, so he wanted the private space we headed though his house and I giggled

"what?"

"It's all the same"

"You weren't gone that long" He smiled "Ohh but somewhere has had an upgrade" he smirked covering my eyes as we wondered out his patio

"Newt what's going on?" I giggled

"and... ta da!" He smiled moving his hands away revealing the old mouldy gazebo was gone replaced now with a large shed at the bottom of the garden with windows, lights, electricity, and even a sofa

"an Update indeed" I smiled going over and looking at the place, he had a Tv gaming stuff, a sofa, a rug, lights, a mini-fridge and a microwave, hell if life was bad other than the bathroom you could live out here. "Impressive" I smiled sitting on the sofa as he shut the doors behind us

"Yeah well, Sonya took over up there wanted vanities and extra wardrobe space so, I all but moved out here. If the garden was big enough I'd have bought a caravan bloody moved into it completely" he explained getting two cups so I grabbed a bottle of drink and filling them up

"Oohhh, makes sense" I nodded

"but come on nothing has happened to me since you left except the upgrade of the Oasis, so come on tell me about everything!"

"Oh. Well not much to tell" I said having a sip of my drink as he sorted the other snacks

"Not much to tell?" he laughs "accepted into the highly regarded St Layton Institute in Sydney as an underage training to help with all the sweet sick and hurt animals in the beautiful views all year"

"Well you know it wasn't as glamorous"

"How did you do with the giant spiders?"

"I didn't see any"

"Hu. lucky then. did you get to hug a koala?"

"well Uhhh"

"fine, keep your secrets. I guess after the long trip you just wanna relax?"

"Yeah"

"Alright then, I'll update you on all the gossip," he says having a drink before he began telling me everything that I had missed with everyone, we had our snacks watched the sky grow darker talking about everything and nothing like I had been gone two days "I really missed you, when you were away"

"Yeah, I missed you too newt"

"You wanna know something?"

"sure" I smiled

"I bought this old shed not long after you left, at that point I didn't know where you were. I tried knocking but given your mum went over with you for a while I guess she wasn't there either. and when she finally got back I asked about where you were and she explained everything to me how you got accepted and you were so happy but such short notice you couldn't tell me. I tried leaving messages and emails and everything else but you were so busy and your mum said the signal was bad out there so, I haven't spoken to you or seen you in so long and...."

"And what?"

"And I was saving up"

"Saving up? for what?"

"A trip, down to Syndey to come to see you"

"You were?"

"Yeah, I almost got enough saved up I know I should have asked but I missed you so badly I wanted to go down there and surprise you we could hang out and all" He smiled "But luckily you came back."

"Newt that's so sweet" I smiled giving him a cuddle

"well your my best mate, have been since I was born, I had to go see you"

"what will you do with the money now?"

"I don't know, Guess I could save it up in case you're going back so I can come visit"

I felt awful, and honestly, I couldn't keep up with this.

"Newt. I have to tell you something"

"what is it?" he asks sounding worried "is it bad?"

"it's a lot."

"You're going back aren't you? soon?" he asks and I didn't answer "and there's someone waiting for you isn't there?"

"No. there isn't newt," I told him "Please it's complicated

"Course, I'm all ears"

"I. I never went to Australia"

"What?"

"Never. there was no program. No trip. nothing."

"Okay... then as nicely as I can ask this but, where the bloody hell have you been?"

"had you noticed, how distant I had become before I left"

"Kinda, I asked your mum about it she said you were just always studying"

"I wasn't. I was in therapy pretty intense therapy."

"Therapy?"

"Yeah, and it well... wasn't working so I started to isolate myself."

"So, what happened the night you left then?"

"I had done something, that I now regret. and I had to be taken to hospital"

"The hospital!" He said in shock "You've... you've been in the hospital all this time?"

"Yes."

"why- why would she lie. I would have wanted to come to see you, hell I would have come to see you once a week if I'd have known you were just up the road in the hospital"

"I wasn't in that hospital newt"

"Y/n. No?"

"I was in the mental hospital. I was taken to hospital initially to deal with the issue that happened that night that's while my mum was away, and then they said I had to stay and get treatment until... I wasn't a danger to myself anymore and, Here I am. Out today" I explain "They took my phone, I couldn't have computer access or even a phone call, my mother was allowed to see me once every two weeks proving my state was at a five or above any lower I wasn't allowed to see people, friends were not allowed as visitors at all" I explained "I didn't want everyone to know what happened to me, what I did. where I was. so I told her to just lie. just lie till I come back I didn't want anyone to know. I guess outback in a animal shelter is what she came up with"

"Ohh y/n" He says pulling me into a hug and kissing me a hundred times "why didn't you tell me? why didn't you tell me how sick you were? why didn't you tell me you were feeling like this? I could have helped you. I would have ridden my bike all the way to your hospital window just to leave you notes if I knew, I would have helped you, your my best friend, I love you. please if you ever feel that sick again, don't shut me out"

"I won't newt. I just... I didn't want to bother you"

"Its no bother, I like to help, I can't bare the thought of... whatever you did. just to think how sick you were and I didn't help you"

"it's okay, you didn't know"

"well, I know now. thank you very much for telling me. I know that can't be easy, but if you like, its our little secret"

"I would like that"

"okay, our little secret." he smiled "You promise that you'll let me know if you feel this bad again?"

"I will I promise Newt, thank you"

"did you need a ride to your next therapy session?"

"On Thursday, if you don't mind"

"No problem, at all. and after we'll get ice cream" He smiled

"That sounds nice" I smiled

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course newt" I smiled

he was nervous but pulled back his hoodie to reveal his arm, and the scars he had there now slowly healing

"what-"

"I was in therapy a while too"

"why didn't you tell me?"

"I tried, you were gone"

"This... was while I was gone"

"Yeah, I kinda... struggled without my best friend around. we all have scars y/n but we have to take care of each other, knowones scars will heal on their own"

"Your right" I nodded

"Can I- see yours?"

"Another day newt."

"Okay, whenever you're ready" He smiled kissing my head

"What's with all the kisses?"

"I know they always use to make you feel better. and... I really have missed you. I take it then you didn't get any of my messages?"

"No, I haven't checked everything since being back a little afraid too"

He nodded and got his phone opening something up and handing it to me I read through the hundreds of messages he had sent to me, none of which I had seen, about stuff going on, how much he missed me, the struggles he faced, and I found one train that intrigued me

'I know this is gonna sound crazy and I know you might not be able to read this but, after everything that's happened I- I can't stop thinking about what makes me happy and, it's you. you make me happy. all this time I thought it was just that we've been friends since we were little kids but, that's not it. I.... I love you. and I don't know how you feel about me but I just have to tell you. I love you. I've had a crush on you for as long as I can remember, I miss you terribly, I'd sell my bike just to come out and see you, I... I love you. and I wish you'd come home'

"You-"

"I did. well... do still" he smiled "I realized not long after you left, that I had a crush on you. and I've only fallen deeper the longer we've been apart. how uhh how do you feel about that?"

I didn't know how else to respond I wanted to cry I jumped on him hugging him tightly and kissing him, and he happily kissed back wrapping his arms around me tightly till I pulled back

"Yeah I uhhh had a crush on you too" I blushed

"I waited so long for that answer"

"and?"

"I'm happy I waited" He smiled

"why?"

"Because if you had answered me then, hospital or Sydney I would have dropped everything and came to kiss you" he cooes between kisses "did you wanna stay here tonight? in my little oasis?"

"I would love too" I smiled

"Okay, I will grab a blanket, did you wanna go grab your nightie from home?"

"Its fine, I'm sure I can borrow your shirt for one night"

"yeah? alright. one minuet my darling" He smiles giving me a kiss before he got up and headed inside.

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 3 years

Text

List of proper nouns that they say in the UK but not in North America, or at least not in the part of Canada where I live, next to how they translate in Canada (these are all terms I’ve learned since March 2020, it leaves out anything I knew before that):

- Tannoy system – intercom - Fairy liquid – dishwashing soap - Chutes and Ladders – Snakes and Ladders - Where’s Wally – Where’s Waldo - Cluedo – Clue - Nike (pronounced to rhyme with “Mike”) – Nike (pronounced to rhyme with “Mike-ee”) - Waitrose – fancy grocery store - Tesco, Asda, Iceland, Lidl, Morrison’s, Sainsbury’s – less fancy grocery stories - Gregg’s – pastry shop, I get the impression that it’s a shitty one - Asda – a store that I get the impression is rather like Wal-Mart - Weatherspoons – pub that opens in the morning, as far as I understand it’s known for being nice on the outside but ugly on the inside and generally full of despair - Waterstones – bookstore - John Lewis – department store that does famous advertisements at Christmas - Specsavers – glasses store that did advertisements clearly that got very popular, given how often they’re referenced - Marks & Spencer – store where you can buy anything - Jaffa Cakes – some sort of dessert that different people think are either cakes or cookies - ASBO – warning on your record from the police - GCSEs – exams high school kids take - O-levels and A-levels – more advanced exams that kids take, I’m sorry to say that I do basically understand the meanings of these as GCSEs are like OWLs from Harry Potter and O-levels/A-levels are like NEWTs from Harry Potter

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dietraumerei · 3 years

Text

Femslash February 3: Book

AO3 Collection | Thank you to @ineffable-wives-central for the prompt list!

Crowley is finally writing Aziraphale into one of her books.

Rated G, mention of minor injury.

Set in my Bike Girls human AU, but all you need to really know for this story is:

- Crowley is a (among other things) romance novelist - Aziraphale is autistic - They are both just complete lesbian disasters. (I came up with the AU for whumptober after all...)

Anna ducked her head, hiding her face from the others, for she was sure she was blushing a deep red. She fussed with the edge of her apron, and forced her hands to be still; it wouldn't do to fidget so obviously.

William Yoder! Oh, he was kind and handsome, a good man. His harnesses were the best in the state, and his business was secure, something for them to build a life on. And he was kind. To everyone, but especially to her, she sometimes thought.

“Tea's up,” came Aziraphale's call from the kitchen. “Shall I bring you a mug?”

Crowley smiled at her screen, pleased with the last few hours' work. “Nah, I need to move around.” She pushed her office chair back and hoiked herself out of it. An unfortunate incident in a friend's garden involving mud, a chicken, and a copy of Luther's 95 theses had resulted in her wrenching her ankle something awful. Keeping it tightly wrapped up and generally taking it easy was all that seemed to be needed, at least. And, from time to time, actually walking on it – well, limping.

(The rest of the time Crowley cheerfully scooted around in her office chair until Aziraphale rolled her eyes.)

“Good work?” Aziraphale asked, greeting her with a kiss and a fragrant mug.

“Very good,” Crowley said, leaning against the counter. “Anna's pretty well in love by now, just got to artificially separate them based on the thinnest of excuses, and bring them back together with a convenient carriage accident.”

Aziraphale gloated, for she was finally getting her dearest wish – Crowley was writing her into one of her Amish romance novels. Anna, in addition to sharing initials, had some of Aziraphale's looks, her stims and – eventually – the broken wrist that had lead to her and Crowley meeting and falling in love.

“Good girl,” she approved.

“Me or Anna?” Crowley asked, bemused.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, and sipped her tea, going over to sit at the table. “Oh, Anathema asked me to cover for her at the shop tomorrow, she and Newt got given tickets to a matinee in London. Want me to pick up tea from the chippy on the way home?”

“Mmm, probably for the best,” Crowley said. “I'll have the leftover pad thai for lunch, not like there's really enough for two.” She stretched a little, and scratched her leg thoughtfully. “Can you pick up a little cream too, please? I want to make scones.”

“I'll swing by the Tesco,” Aziraphale promised, and smiled at her. “Ankle all right?”

“Still attached,” Crowley said cheerfully. “It really is, though.” She stretched her leg out, foot up on a spare chair, and smiled in satisfaction. “We should go for a walk later.”

“You just want to show off your cane,” Aziraphale said dryly. “But all right, darling, a short one.”

Plans settled, Aziraphale enjoyed her tea, and the homey conversation. The homey everything, wonderfully intimate. She'd spent last night in her flat, revelling in solitude – to say nothing of tidying her bedroom a bit – and would spend tonight with Crowley in her bed. Perhaps making love, perhaps not; they'd see how the wind blew. And tomorrow Crowley would write more of her book, and Aziraphale would get to read it first and try to catch all the references – flattering and otherwise – to herself, and it would be lovely.

Their evening was all Aziraphale could have wanted and more. She made a quick tea; her spag bol wasn't exactly going to win prizes, but it was hearty and good and filling. They went for a walk together around their pretty little neighbourhood, Crowley showing off her snake-headed cane and Aziraphale pausing to chat with one of the bookshop regulars. Then back home to cuddle in the living room, Crowley with her phone and Aziraphale with her book.

She helped re-wrap Crowley's ankle after a shower (goodness knew they had enough medical gear on hand to outfit a small field hospital at this point), and they snuggled down for some lazy kissing and caressing. Not quite sex, but – intimacy, Aziraphale decided, as she traced a fingertip around Crowley's nipple and watched it harden. Simple, lovely intimacy.

“Do you like your Amish avatar?” Crowley asked, for Aziraphale had read over what she'd written that day.

“Yes! I can't wait to read more. Will it be very thrilling?”

“Incredibly so,” Crowley promised, and kissed the tip of her nose. “Did I get your stims and stuff right?”

“Oh, love. Yes, of course. You know my tells as well as I do now,” Aziraphale assured her, rubbing Crowley's belly. “I wonder if anyone else will figure out that she's autistic?”

“I need to write some straight romance. I mean, not-Amish,” Crowley grumbled. “Write an autistic heroine for real, you know?” She nosed Aziraphale's collarbone. “Write how she's interesting and funny and cute, and how she falls in love, and how someone falls in love with her?”

“Oh, honey. That would be amazing.” Aziraphale gave her a little hug. “Have you ever written lesbian romance?”

Crowley shook her head. “There's not as much market,” she admitted. “And I don't know...I like having that be personal, y'know? If I got the right idea, I guess I'd pitch it, but taking a step away from my real life...I feel freer?”

“I don't know exactly, but I think I understand,” Aziraphale said after a moment of thinking. “And anyway, you're the one writing, you should do as you like.” She grinned and tapped the edge of the bandage where it wrapped around Crowley's calf. “Although I have noticed that your characters are a bit disaster-y.”

“Well, yeah. Gotta put all that first-hand medical knowledge to use!” Crowley said cheerfully, and Aziraphale laughed and snuggled closer, and Crowley pulled the duvet up to cover them, and turned the lights off, and they kissed in the warm darkness, happy, ordinary, impossibly content and in love.

#good omens #ineffable femslash february #ineffable wives #my fic

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moveslikebuckywrites · 5 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Anathema Device, Sergeant Shadwell (Good Omens), Newton Pulsifer Additional Tags: Established Relationship, witchfinder army, still not finding any witches Summary:

“So, the situation is, the angel, my angel, has somehow misplaced his halo,” the demon takes in the confused looks on the faces of present company, “He’s quite clever but he can be a bit of a ditz at times. He’s asked me to find it for him, somewhere we’ve been in the last week. We’re going to split up and canvas the neighborhood and find his halo. Simple enough, yeah?”

Crowley stops pacing and stares straight at them as Newt raises a very shaky hand. Crowley ignores it.

“I said,” he glares, “Simple. Enough. Yeah?”

---

It’s another prompt fill for the Ineffable Outliers discord channel! This one was a real treat to write! Click through to AO3 or read the whole thing under the cut!

Edit: Helps if I remember to put the cut in the post; this is why you don’t post fic when you’re at work kids!

---

The year after the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t had been very good to Crowley.

Hell was no longer breathing down his neck, he was free to do as he pleased. So was his angel.

Yes, his angel. It had taken all of five minutes after leaving the Ritz the day after the world almost ended for things to start rolling, and once they started, they just didn’t stop.

Walking to the bookshop that day, Aziraphale had reached for his hand. That alone had been near enough to discorporate him on the spot. Aziraphale had lingered with him outside the bookshop, rocking back and forth on his heels while Crowley tried to get his face to stop being such a bright shade of tomato-red. Aziraphale had finally huffed and said I think, dear boy, this is the part where you’re supposed to kiss me.

Crowley had finally found his footing and lurched forward to kiss him and they stumbled backwards into the bookshop together.

They didn’t come back out for a week. (A lot to catch up on, one might say).

Things might have been too fast back in the sixties, but now they were going at a breakneck pace. Crowley was almost afraid it was too fast for him.

Once Aziraphale was free to love as much and in every way that he wanted to, it was almost overwhelming. Every day a new pet name, every night the softest kisses to the demon’s temple or wrist or palm or lips (most of the time, all of these). There were long walks in St. James Park, holding hands like it was something they'd done forever. Lingering kisses whenever they could get away with it. Long evenings in the bookshop led to long nights sleeping in the flat upstairs, and after six months Crowley had realized he only visited his flat once a week at most to water scream at the plants. The whole flat seemed a bit superfluous after that.

Within a few days of that realization, the plants had all been relocated to the bookshop. Some were in the shop itself; most were in the upstairs flat (unused for the better part of two centuries, but now in use almost all of the time) collecting sunlight from the skylights in the bedroom or the bay windows in the kitchen.

The Mona Lisa sketch was in the living room, as was the lectern from the church. The wrestling statue was nowhere to be found, but Crowley knew exactly where it was. He’d sneak it into the décor at some point.

He had tangible mornings now. Mornings waking up next to Aziraphale, or mornings where he’d wander blearily into the kitchen only to be handed a cup of coffee made exactly the way he loved it. There were dinners and dates and oh so much life to live. One would think, having been around for 6000 years, that one would’ve seen it all.

It turns out there’s much more to see when you get to see it with someone you love.

Paris was different. Venice was different. Hell, the entirety of London was different. Crowley no longer had to hide the affection he had for his angel, and all of that time spent pining when they’d visited places before could now be spent holding his angel’s hand and stealing kisses at opportune moments.

Go- Sat- Somebody, Crowley was happy. He couldn’t think of anything that could possibly be better than what he had right here with his angel.

He’d do anything for Aziraphale (which, in itself, wasn’t a change at all), so when his angel came to him with a problem, all he could do was try to solve it.

---

“Alright, you lot,” Crowley addressed the group assembled in the main area of the bookshop in much the same way he would address an unruly rhododendron, “We have a very important job to do, and as I want it done quickly, I decided to call you in. You are still on my payroll after all.”

The assembled group consisted of the entirety of the Witchfinder Army.

One Sergeant Shadwell, who was not currently voicing his disgust in working with a demon, but it was painted clearly on his face, nonetheless.

And one Newton Pulsifer, currently promoted to the rank of Lance Corporal. This was almost fully against his will and had only happened because he and Anathema had run into Shadwell and Madame Tracy in Tesco’s a few months previous. The conversation meandered to the promotion when Newt tried to distract Shadwell from asking about Anathema’s nipples.

Neither of them particularly wanted to be there, but neither of them particularly had anything better to do.

Plus, the demon was right, they were on the payroll.

Crowley paced back and forth in front of them, not unlike a general getting ready to deploy his troops and no less intimidating.

Crowley stops pacing and stares straight at them as Newt raises a very shaky hand. Crowley ignores it.

“I said ,” he glares, “Simple. Enough. Yeah?”

“Well, um,” Newt manages to stammer, hand still shakily raised in the air in much the same way the shy third grader from the back of the class might, “It’s just, Mr. Crowley, sir, um. Wouldn’t someone have noticed a glowing disk? Or maybe not, maybe that’s silly, but um, the better question is, um, what exactly are we looking for?”

“Nae, laddie,” Shadwell said with a huff, “The question is why we’re doin’ this in the first place. We’re the Witchfinder Army, not some kinda detectives.” He looked to Newt, still with his hand in the air, and yanked his arm back down by his sleeve.

“Can’t really call yourself an army though, can you?” Crowley asked, lifting an eyebrow higher than should be humanly possible, taking on an air of condescension, “I mean, Major Milkbottle? Really? ”

“Cannae say too much about it, laddie,” he said with a smug grin, “The southern pansy thought the Major was a fine fellow.”

“Unlike Aziraphale, Sergeant ,” Crowley pulled his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose, showing off his snake pupils, “I’m not so easily fooled.” He stared Shadwell down for a few seconds for good measure. He didn’t like that there were humans that knew the truth, he liked it even less when those humans had been playing their own game for quite some time.

“Anyway, Lance Corporal Pulsifer,” Crowley continued, “to answer your question, it’s a signet ring. Gold, looks like angel wings. Dunno where the featherbrain might’ve taken it off at, but he definitely lost it and that makes him worry. When he’s worried, he gets tetchy, and when he gets tetchy, I don’t get sleep.”

The demon paused to stare down his army, if one could even call it that. But surely even these two could handle something simple.

“So I suggest you each take one of these lists, and start looking and asking questionssss,” he handed them each a sheet of paper, “Like the good little detectivessss you are.”

Newt and Shadwell crowded out of the door, each heading a separate way to start on their lists. Crowley had a list of his own, and he was determined that the halo would be found by this evening.

He had a date with his angel, after all, and he wouldn’t be late.

---

“Angel, why are you so fidgety?”

Crowley had watched Aziraphale flutter and pace around his bookshop for the better part of the day, and now that they were in bed, supposedly relaxing the angel couldn’t seem to sit still.

“It’s nothing, dear,” he had that look on his face. The one that said he popped over the channel for crepes. The one where he was hiding something.

“Well, probably nothing. More than likely nothing. Of course it’s nothing.” The angel was now wringing his hands together.

“Aziraphale, I haven’t seen you this wound up in months, it’s obviously not nothing,” Crowley had taken the angels hands in his, “What’s bothering you, Angel?”

Aziraphale sighed, “It’s just, I seem to have lost my ring.”

“Don’t see why you’d get so worked up about a ring, but we can find you another one, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Oh no, Crowley,” Aziraphale stuttered, “You don’t understand! It’s not just a ring, it’s the manifestation of my halo!”

Crowley stared at him, stunned. “So you’re telling me, somewhere along in the last day or so, you lost your entire bloody halo?”

Aziraphale looked at him sheepishly, “Yes, it would seem so. Oh, I do worry about it. I know I’m not on Heaven’s side anymore, but an angel without a halo that’s just silly, and I did rather like it.”

There it is, the puppy dog eyes. The most powerful weapon in Aziraphale’s considerable arsenal of weapons he could deploy to get Crowley to do absolutely anything he wanted. Oh sure, the angel had a lot of new weapons for that. Sweet fond smiles and softly spoken pet names had been quickly becoming a favorite, as had kisses of all kinds. But it was always that sad yet hopeful pout that the demon was powerless to resist any time it was aimed in his direction.

Just enough of a bastard, indeed.

“Angel, would you like me to look for it tomorrow?”

Aziraphale brightened instantly, eyes sparkling, “Oh, would you, dearest? I have to meet with that rare book dealer about an original copy of William Blake and I’d hate to miss it.”

“Of course, Angel, I’ll find your halo.”

“Oh, thank you, darling,” Aziraphale said and kissed Crowley so quickly that the demon didn’t even have time to be annoyed at the task in front of him.

---

There were two mugs on the little coffee table, one of cocoa and one of a nice earl grey tea.

“Does he suspect anything yet?” asked the first voice, dark and feminine with more than a little mischief of its own. One might even say witchy.

“Oh, you know how he is,” this voice was posh and southern, “Once he gets started on something, he’ll be at it until the end. He doesn’t suspect anything.” Both the tea and cocoa had been, miraculously, the perfect temperature for going on an hour now.

A cup of something warm and friendly company were always a good thing, after all. Especially when you were plotting.

“Yes, well, from what I’ve heard the search has been entertaining so far.”

“Ah, yes,” said the posh accent, “Your man on the inside, as it were. I do hope mine isn’t being too cruel to them.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” said the witchy voice, “Now, you mentioned wanting my help picking out your outfit?”

“Ah, yes of course my dear, I don’t want to be late after all.”

---

This was an impossible task.

Crowley was starting to lose the faith he’d always had in humanity. Who didn’t turn things into lost and founds anymore? He was sure whoever had found the ring had taken it to a pawnbroker by now.

Though it would be kind of funny to know how much a place like that would think a ring made of pure holy matter was worth. Could be quite a laugh.

Newt had checked Kew Gardens and St. James Park, among other places, with no luck whatsoever.

Shadwell had, likewise, been to the British Museum and the opera house and anywhere else Crowley had been able to think of. Likewise, he’d come up with nothing.

Crowley had been left with the extensive list of restaurants he and the angel had visited in the past week. (“Seriously, Angel, it’s been missing a week?” “Well I didn’t want to worry you, dear.”)

This list included, but was not limited to, three different Italian bistros, the little sushi place down the street from the bookshop, two tapas bars, a hole-in-the-wall Greek restaurant, and the Ritz. Always the Ritz.

That had been his best bet, and he’d come up short. Now he had less than thirty minutes until his date with Aziraphale and nothing to show for it.

He’d been so distracted about it he hadn’t even been able to properly yell at Newt and Shadwell, he’d just sent them on their way. Shadwell had still been grumbling, Newt was just happy to leave.

Now Crowley was back in the bookshop, in the backroom draped across his favorite chair with his head in his hands. Headaches were so terribly human, yet he was pretty sure that’s what was happening now.

Nothing for it, he’d turned up empty handed. They could check the pawnbrokers tomorrow and go from there.

Even though Aziraphale had wholeheartedly detached from his former employer, he was still an angel at the end of the day. His halo would be the last thing he had of Heaven, and, even if Heaven wasn’t as good a place as it had ever been1, Crowley was sure the angel would be very sad without this one little reminder.

“Might as well face the music, then,” the demon said to no one in particular, because no one was in the bookshop with him.

Aziraphale had told him to meet at St. James at six o’clock on the dot. No time to sit and brood.

---

He found Aziraphale with a full picnic spread out under one of the apple trees.

“Crowley, my dear! There you are,” Aziraphale’s entire face lit up as soon as he saw the demon, Crowley didn’t think he’d ever get tired of that. Something was different though.

Aziraphale was actually wearing modern clothes.

Not super modern, nor even vaguely modern by most standards. He was wearing sensible khakis and a tartan sweater vest over a light blue button-up. He’d forgone the bow tie, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

If it had been a year ago, Crowley might have thought it obscene .

“Y’look nice, Angel,” Crowley said as he caught up, giving the angel a quick kiss, “Finally decided to catch up with the times?”

“Oh, oh thank you,” Aziraphale said with a bit of a wiggle, “Just for today, thought I’d give it a go. It’s a special occasion after all.” Crowley noticed the angel’s ears turning a very lovely shade of pink.

If he weren’t a demon, he might say it was cute.

“What’s all this then? Evening picnic in the park is a bit different for us, yea?” Not that he minded, Aziraphale was constantly surprising him.

“Well,” the angel started, the pink creeping in on his face now, “I promised you a picnic, back in 1967, I figured I should make good on it eventually.”

Crowley felt the blush rising in his own cheeks as Aziraphale smiled at him fondly. He’d never forgotten that night, his world had been reeling and it had been the first time he’d truly let himself hope that Aziraphale might truly love him back.

“After all,” the angel continued, starting to wring his hands together like he always did when he was anxious, “We’ve been to the Ritz so often, but never on a picnic, silly thing that.”

“You’re more nervous than usual,” Crowley said, raising an eyebrow, “’S just a picnic, Angel.”

“Yes, of course, just a picnic,” Aziraphale said quickly, taking a seat on the tartan blanket, “Any luck today finding my halo?”

Crowley felt a lump form in his throat as he leaned against the apple tree next to where Aziraphale was sitting, “Ah, about that, Angel. We looked everywhere and checked in at all the places we’d been.” He couldn’t even look at Azirphale, he didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face. Didn’t think he could handle it.

“Tore the bookshop apart even – don’t even start, everything is in its proper place, perfectly disorganized just the way you left it – if anyone found it, they likely took it to the pawnbroker’s so we’ll have to start there tomorrow. I’m sorry, Angel, I really tried to find it.”

It was at this point Crowley heard what sounded like snickering. He chanced a look at the angel who was very, very clearly trying to hold in a bout of laughter.

“What’s so funny, Angel?”

Aziraphale stopped his giggling almost immediately and swallowed hard, “Well, dearest, truth be told I’m more than a bit nervous.”

“Nervous? What the heaven have you got to be nervous about?”

“Well, my love, if you must know,” the angel took a deep breath, “I never actually lost my halo.”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale open mouthed, his glasses sliding almost imperceptibly down the bridge of his nose.

“You what.”

“I never actually lost it. I just had to do something with it, and I didn’t want you to ask where it was and-”

“So, you sent me on a wild goose chase?! I called the Witchfinders! I had to spend an entire day with those two lunatics!” Crowley was now stalking back and forth, gesticulating wildly. So much so he didn’t notice Aziraphale moving from sitting on the blanket to being on one knee.

“Crowley-“

“And then I had to go to all of those restaurants,” he did not see the angel pull out a ring box from his pocket, as he was too busy stomping about, “Do you know how many bloody bistros there are near Soho? Don’t even know if they were the right ones!”

“Dearest-“

“Not to mention I had to go to that Greek place,” nor did Crowley notice a very peculiar witch hiding in the bushes about 10 yards away with a video camera, “You know the one! You know Yaya won’t let me leave without eating and I can’t disappoint her.2

“Crowley for Heaven’s sake will you just turn around and look at me?”

Crowley turned to the angel and his entire being stopped. He couldn’t form any more words, nor could he move at all.

Aziraphale was on one knee with a ring box in his hand; and, despite the fact that they were immortal celestial beings who definitely didn’t need to go in for that sort of thing, the very human implications were 100% clear.

“Dearest, I wanted it to be a surprise, but I worried you might suspect something was amiss if you noticed it missing, and it took a lot to disintegrate and reintegrate it in such a way. So, I sent you on a bit of a red herring to buy time to get everything absolutely perfect.”

“Ngk,” was all Crowley could manage to say. A bush about 10 yards away laughed.

“Crowley, my dear, I know it took me a long time to finally catch up to you, and the fact that it took the near end of the world was absolutely preposterous of me. This past year has been, without a doubt, the happiest of my entire existence. If I had ever gotten my wits about me, I’d have known that on our own side, together, was right where we were supposed to be the entire time.”

Aziraphale opened the box, and inside were two gold rings. One of them was a golden Ouroboros with a tiny red stone for the eye. The other looked very similar to Aziraphale’s signet ring, two angel wings, but much thinner and more modern. Crowley was still working on getting his brain moving again. Aziraphale was here, for all intents and purposes proposing to him. With his bloody halo.

Just enough of a bastard, indeed.

If he’d been in disbelief at the state of his life for the past year, that was nothing compared to the state of disbelief he was in now.

“This is the last piece of me that was still a part of Heaven. I’m not on their side anymore, I’m on yours, forever if you’ll let me be.” Aziraphale paused, clearly waiting for some kind of answer, while all Crowley could do was open his mouth and then close it again.

“While I know that it’s not in any traditional sense, and as celestial beings there’s no real need for it,” Aziraphale started to stammer, which meant he was backtracking, and that just wouldn’t do, “I still wanted to have some kind of symbol of all of this. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine as well, I just-”

Having finally gotten his brain back online Crowley had answered in the only way he could think of, and had lunged full force into the angel, crashing their lips together desperately, knocking them both to the ground.

The bush 10 yards away heaved a sigh, stopped filming, and the occupant got up and walked away3

After what could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours (time is relative, even more so to an immortal celestial being), they finally broke apart.

“Does that answer your question, Angel?”

“Quite,” Aziraphale said, beaming at him.

Crowley was sure that the dopey grin on his face was most unbecoming of a demon, but as they sat on the tartan blanket drinking champagne, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He glanced down at his hand, gold angel wings glinting in the fading light of the sunset, and sighed contentedly.

As he laced his fingers with Aziraphale’s and kissed the snake ring on his angel’s finger, he knew in that moment there was nowhere in any universe either one of them would rather be.

After all, they were on their own side now, and they always would be.

---

1 - As far as Crowley was concerned, Heaven had never been worth the capital letter that always got bestowed upon it. One group of pricks that you could only trade for a different, smellier group of pricks. In the end, it didn’t matter, they were all a bunch of bastards.

2 - The little hole-in-the-wall Greek restaurant was owned and operated by a small Greek family, who’d been running the restaurant for generations at this point. ‘Yaya’, as Crowley (and most of the regulars) called her, was the family matriarch. She took one look at his skinny frame and immediately decided that no one had fed the poor boy a decent meal in his life, and therefore he was never allowed to leave without eating as much as she put in front of him. Aziraphale always found this hilarious.

3 - It is a known trait of witches that they always know the precise moment to arrive and the precise moment to leave. Whether or not this particular witch had any intervention on this conclusion from a different, much more particular witch from the 1600s was neither here nor there.

#good omens #fic #my fic #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #shadwell #newt pulsifer #anathema device #ineffable outliers weekly prompts

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seaselkie · 5 years

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You should get a chance to discuss writers and writing that you love, because a) you're wonderful and b) you enjoy talking about writing ❤ So, R and U also? :))

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

oh boy. okay. Maggie Stiefvater is one of the earliest writers I remember really being influenced by. I remember picking up Shiver years ago and being blown away by the incredibly beautiful, delicate way she weaves words into stories. She is still my favourite author. I read Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series years ago, too, and that astounded me; how incredibly hilarious he could make something even as stakes were high and situations were dire; all through the blackly comedic and darkly sarcastic outlook of his narrator. And then there is a book that I think is quite little known - Heaven by Christoph Marzi, that I found on a discount shelf in Tesco a long time ago and I devoured it. It is such a unique story and told in such a visceral way that I have never picked it up again but it has stayed with me.Over the years there have been many unpublished authors who I’ve loved the styles of. I’ve been through a lot of fandoms as I’ve grown up, and in each there have been some truly talented writers. I think that your own style is something that you just find over time. You stumble into it with trial and error, find what works for you, and I think that the more you read and write the more you discover about yourself. That in mind….I can’t really name many people I’ve consciously thought of as having influenced me. more often than not its not a single person’s style or outlook that I’ve decided I want to aspire to; its usually tiny things; how they used a word, the way exactly the right sentence was placed in just the right moment in the right story…I can’t begin to remember them specifically. not the stories, the words or the people who wrote them, but its that tiny moment of ‘wow I like that’ that ends up making me want to be capable of something nearly on the same level.

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

um. so. this is a cop out but….I can’t. I really don’t tend to think about writers themselves in any specific way - its the stories they create that are the things I love, favour and hold onto. Just because the same person writes a dozen fics doesn’t mean I will love all of them so I just really don’t thin about ‘favourite fic writers’ themselves. I have favourite stories and sometimes, more than one of those are written by the same person.

Bia - @comebacknow wrote TMH, which I feel like most of the fandom knows. And they should. But one of my favourites of hers is a little Newt Day oneshot called In Search of Crescendo. Its so so beautifully, poignantly written and I love it, but it was a very different reading experience to any of TMH.

Periapsis by Jamie - @00250 I read recently and loved enough that I wrote four paragraphs of it onto my wall. Its such delicate, beautiful prose that evokes such rich textures in the world and characters.

After by Gel - @singt0me was recommended to me and I fell in love with the grounded, visceral narration of it and the unique ideas and perspective it brought. The story is one of the most touching and emotional ones I’ve read in the fandom.

Tisaniere wrote The Glade Airport Boys which is one of my favourite fics in the whole Maze Runner Fandom. It has things I don’t like, and flaws, but I remember the way just the very first paragraphs made me feel the first time I read it and its a bone deep kind of feeling that’s stayed through three years.

Inthesea wrote a fic for AFTG called Light Fires at Night (to push back the void) and it was one of the earliest ones I read in the fandom but also so quietly real and painstakingly crafted that it felt like I was still reading the original books.

Laughingsenselessly - @wellsjahasghost has written many many fics in two fandoms I’m a quiet part of but one of hers that stands out most to me is Voluntary Apnea which is a delicately unfolding story that treads a path of deep pain, love and grief. Its such a thought-provoking story and I love how it was executed.

It’s longer since I’ve been in other fandoms now so I don’t remember as many fics individually from them. but I know there are a few I once loved from Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Once Upon a Time and others. The reasons I loved them varied a lot, both for their own qualities and as I grew up, but again - it came back to the individual stories rather than an overall feeling about who wrote them.

Sorry this got so long :/ And sorry that its not really about the authors. I just…don’t really think of fics that way I guess? Which isn’t to say I don’t think much of the authors - I clearly do.

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