Finished My Good Omens Halloween Animation Thingy! In Time! I’ve Never Done Anything As Complex As

One of my favourite GO fic series. A demon and angel professor AU. Full of mischief. And full of heart. Most fics can be read alone and there are little story arcs with recurring characters. Nuanced and varied representation within the series.

Later, at home, they laugh openly about it, and lay bets on how long it will be before this year’s undergraduates catch on that they are married.

“Your turn to drop a clue next, angel,” Crowley drawls from where he sprawls with his feet on Aziraphale’s lap.

It's been a long time since I posted something here

Again. Crowley and Aziraphale.

would you put a discarded fruit sticker on my forehead in whimsical jest yes or no

I've seen a lot of fics disappear from my bookmarks, some 10+ years old, because they were added to an unrevealed collection. It makes me wonder if people realize what your fic being added to a collection actually means and if the authors approved it automatically without realizing what would happen.

If someone adds your fic to their collection, they can hide it! They can mark the collection as unrevealed and your fic will be unreadable to anyone other than them! If you're writing works for a surprise event, like a Secret Santa, this is really nice.

But if you're just writing and someone adds your fic to a collection for their own personal use and marks it as unrevealed, that. . . really sucks.

I bookmarked this fic in 2017, almost 5 years ago. Knowing me, the fic itself was probably at least a couple years old at the time I bookmarked it.

This is a 5+ year old fic that is completely inaccessible now because it was added to a collection that, as far as I can tell, is literally just for the collection owner's own reference. There's almost 30 fics in the collection, all of them unrevealed.

Please don't blindly accept collection requests and if your works ARE in a collection, make sure that they aren't being hidden without your knowledge or consent.

WIP TAG GAME

I was tagged by @anatomic-girl to share a sentence or excerpt from my WIP(s) that start with the letters POSH. I had to really delve in for the O but I found one in the end yeay! All in good omens wips.

No pressure to do anything but if you want to play … tag along! Maybe @copperplatebeech @foolishlovers @sapphosewrites @di-42 Listen well, the next word is HARK. 😉

P. WIP ficlet from the bookshop years between s1 and s2. Gentle domestic fluff. The plants seem to be taking over my writing.

O. WIP loose retelling of Diana Wynne Jones fantasy story. Tanacrow and his family of travelling entertainers sometimes smuggle things to the North. This time the packet is a posh blonde.

S. WIP short story set in early 1800s, or a bit later possibly. Regency era! Aziraphale is sold off to lord Crowley for a gambling debt.

H. WIP short story. Crowley is pressured into giving a lift to a friend of a friend, who turns out to be an irritating fribble.

………

P. Prowling around the bookshop muttering to himself Crowley finally settles the plant in the corner of a well-lit reading nook in front of a north facing window. The brugmansia waits expectantly (this day was progressing far differently than he had assumed, in as far as it had had expectations. Less doomfull for sure). The demon shakes a finger at him and splutters. "Look. You-. Hmph." He angry-walks a small circle. "You keep on growing and blooming okay! No spots, no mold. For him", he hisses.

………

O. One could not say certain things in the South, you had to be careful in choosing your words. People were always watching. And listening. And reporting.

He stood up at the exact moment when Shax opened her mouth to admonish him for dreaming yet again. She let out an irritated hiss and he felt her mild glower following him into the wagon. Bee chuckled from the driving seat as they softly murmured to the horse pulling their home towards the next village, their next show.

………

S. Swinging their hands gently to and fro the redhead smiled winningly up at him. “I’m quite drunk y..know.” For the first time since the angel had entered the room his face softened infinitisemally as he spoke in a soft yet clear voice. “Yes, I can see that.” Crowley’s smile grew.

Ignoring the rest of the intoxicated company around the gaming table the blonde spoke without ever taking his eyes off the slightly swaying man in front of him. “I will go and pack my things, Gabriel, since you’ve apparently sold me to Lord Crowley. We will be off to Gretna Green I suppose.”

………

H. He stared. Surely this was not the same ill-clothed, rude, boring, irritating person that had stepped in his car? These clothes fitted him, flattered him, suited him. The clothes did not suit the time perhaps but they certainly fitted Aziraphale. The velvet waistcoat delectably fastened around his sturdy middle, just waiting to be… (no. Nope. Not going there. ) The angelic vision gave him a coquettish smile when he strutted out into the street and loosened the bowtie around his neck. Crowley swallowed, repressed the urge to help him loosen his bowtie (nope, stoppit, not going there either you dimwit) and stared some more. His elbow slid of the roof of his Bentley and he staggered slightly. The angel, observing the effect he had, widened his smile a fraction. “Well, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, “now I think I am ready for this trip as well.”

………

You can find me on AO3 as thechangelingsea. If you’re excited by any of these projects let me know. I’ve been on a forced digital detox bc of concussion. Now I am slowly getting back to writing more than scattered sentences in notebooks and I am dithering between all of these projects, which to continue first?!?!

Crowley found out that Aziraphale had put an extra bookshelf in the backroom of the bookshop on a measly Monday morning. When Muriel took him to the back and showed him the hidden cd collection behind a collection of books about dowdy fabric patterns they asked him whether he knew what the bookshelf was for. His breath hitched for a moment. Behind his glasses he blinked a couple of times. And he growled how the fuck should I know Muriel. He stalked off - looking his worst* murdery murderous look - slamming the bookshop door behind him, and hating the cheerful jingling with all his heart. Around the corner he relieved some of his feelings by shouting at some quivering nettles**.

It turned out that Aziraphale had co-opted Maggie's help in finding 'bebop' music. While Aziraphale did not really listen to that sort of music, he did have an extraordinary good memory. He had memorised many of the cd's Crowley had listened to. And collected them for some inexplicable reason. Crowley didn't get it. He didn't know why Aziraphale hadn't told him about this. He didn't get it. But he knew why of course.

Later that day he returned to the bookshop and slipped quietly into the backroom. He closed the door softly and took a deep breath. Smelling the dusty musty books always made him feel close to... He slowly ran a finger over the albums. Thinking back to those moments in the bentley listening together. Listening alone. Wondering. How long it would take for his angel to come back to him.

*so that means best depending how you look at it.

**The nettle, very confused and not having experienced demonic energies before, promptly grew a bright blue flower in between its pink ones. When Crowley saw that he stopped shouting and caressed the flower softly.

My latest Guardian Books cartoon. Inspired by this news story.

happy pride to everyone in the community!! happy pride to those who are out, those who are not, those who aren’t sure of their identity yet, those who don’t use labels, those who don’t feel seen, etc, etc. stay safe and don’t be ashamed to be yourself.

A little snake container I repainted to look like a beady eyed Crowley.