Not Where The Storyline Ends By Foolishlovers (T, 14k, Complete)

passing that single brain cell back and forth between them

I wrote something and it didn't really seem long enough to post on ao3 but like... vaguely adult content I guess? I've still not figured how that works (or doesn't) on Tumblr. so have it under the cut. short ineffable phonecall about wall slams

"are you on your way?" Aziraphale asked cheerfully down the phone by way of hello. 

"oh. er. Angel, look, I've had a really shitty day, I think I'm going to stay in my flat and watch shitty TV until I fall into a shitty sleep. I think there's a new series of Love Island on." 

Aziraphale had no idea what that was but he didn't think it sounded like particularly good viewing. "if you're going to wallow and sulk, you can do it at mine. I've got wine, and you can tell me about your awful day and I can make very sympathetic noises." 

"no. I would be extremely poor company." Crowley made a point of switching on the TV and turning it up loud enough it could be heard through the phone. 

"oh I've been tolerating your moods for thousands of years," Aziraphale replied airily. 

"Angel." Crowley gritted his teeth. "I am trying. to tell you. that I don't WANT. to take my bad mood out. on you." 

the pause that followed was unreasonably long. Crowley felt his layers of irritation grow; he was trying to do a considerate thing, trying to grow as a person. if Aziraphale didn't appreciate his efforts he could go stick it. and if he didn't stop being so difficult he was going to find out exactly where in some graphic detail.

"but..." Aziraphale began awkwardly. "I rather think the angelic thing to do would be to absorb your bad mood for you. if you let it fester out into the world, that would be terrible, wouldn't it? but I, well I am a creature of, of love and such like, you couldn't harm me by being grumpy." 

this was utter bullshit and it made Crowley's teeth itch. what the fuck was he doing now? was he actually angling for Crowley to snap at him? 

"I don't mind. I could leave all the doors ajar so you could slam them. I... I'll stand near the wall so you can pin me up against it." 

there was another intense silence, but this time it was Crowley's doing. oh, he was. he was deliberately goading him into this. why would the angel want to be roughed up? completely unwanted, a voice whispered into Crowley's brain: maybe he's into that. angels aren't into that sort of thing, Crowley hissed back in his thoughts. and definitely, absolutely, neither am I. 

"I think it would make you feel better," Aziraphale added very quietly. 

Crowley remembered the last time he had done that very thing; in Tadfield, in an ex Satanic nunnery. he'd pressed his hips up against Aziraphale, just to hold him in place of course, and he'd briefly thought, and then thought it was ridiculous, that the angel might just have had an erection at the time. angels definitely don't get erections from being roughed up in Satanic nunneries. 

"just to be clear," Crowley said, and he'd already switched off the TV and picked up his car keys, "are you doing this to be self sacrificing or because you're... you're..." oh Jesus Christ, Mary, Joseph and a stable full of donkeys, he was actually going to say this out loud because if he didn't say it out loud he was going to spontaneously discorporate. "because you're... getting off on it?" 

there was a very guilty silence. eventually, Aziraphale replied, "are you judging me?" 

"yes. massively. hugely." 

"only I did rather think that time in Tadfield that you definitely got hard holding me against that wall." 

the sound of the Bentley roaring to life rattled out of Aziraphale's old rotary telephone. Freddie Mercury launched into Tie Your Mother Down. "Angel, I'll see you in five minutes. think of something incredibly irritating to say to me as a greeting." and with that Crowley hung up the phone and put his foot down.

~ sometime during S3, when they finally let themselves be angry at each other about being rejected ~

If you'd asked either of them what had happened, you'd get something along the lines of "a great battle between enemies in which neither could best the other."

And indeed a few, half hearted punches and insults had been thrown, a bit of scuffling that landed some books and feathers scattered. But before long, far less than they'd have you believe, they ended up like this. Every so often one of them might spit a venomless jab or thump their first down lightly.

They didn't move for awhile.

That's it. That's the post.

🥚🐍

The Phantom of the Opera x Good Omens crossover no one needed (but I did, so here it is)✨🌹

• Angel of Music •

I did not sleep last night and got lost in all those ridiculous little details that no one will ever notice, but I'm so proud of this one I could cry😭🩷✨

ps. Yes, that's the Opéra Garnier in Paris~

Bonus:

Couldn't hurt to have company, I suppose...

Part 5/5 (Parts 1-5 are on my page! Please check them out under the tag #hereditary enemies)

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My first angsty Good Omens comic is complete! Thank you all SO much for reading this comic and keep your eyes out for my next one coming soon! 💙

The mysterious Golden Bullet

Or a take on Aziraphale and Crowley’s Wild West Era

And to this day…

Saw a post of Aziraphale and Crowley dancing in 1941 and just really wanted to draw it <3

🥀Bearing Witness 🫂

On the day of the crucifixion, both of them felt a distinct responsibility to bear witness. Holding onto each other, watching. In the end it was Crowley who would be struggling to get back on her feet.

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April's ρατreοn mini print!