#GGOSO

[mielpetite]

To celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, and his supposed driving all of the snakes from Ireland, I decided to participate in the Great Good Omens Snake-off, calling for works featuring our favorite demonic snek. I was feeling a bit Deco after seeing all the churches in Rekjavik- enjoy this snek with dozing angel. :)

[yamisnuffles]

More snakey fun for the Great Good Omens Snake Off. This time it’s a detailed version of TV Crowley’s tattoo. That or you can think of it as Crowley himself recreating the image.

[combatbuttler]

HAPPY SNEK DAY

[holycatsandrabbits]

                                      Give Me A Kiss

Released as part of the #Great Good Omens Snake-Off event!

ficlet by @holycatsandrabbits (Dannye Chase) based on a comic by @hayamiyuu 

*comic reposted with permission*

Crowley learned that Aziraphale was comfortable with snakes in Crete around 3000 BC. Crowley had been fleeing from something—probably some mob of humans he’d played a trick on. He’d taken his serpentine shape to hide, turning himself small and dark and slithering beneath some stones in a field. It was cold, and the meager autumn grass didn’t offer much protection, but that had seemed the least of all evils at that point. Eventually, he’d become cold enough that he drifted off to sleep. Which was rather a dangerous thing for a snake to do, but again—a lesser evil.

When Crowley woke up, though, he was warm. No scratchy grass surrounded him, no dry dirt. He was somewhere with a heat source, somewhere soft. He opened his eyes to realize that he was curled up in the lap of an angel, who looked delighted to see him awake.

“You missed our lunch date,” Aziraphale said, with obviously false reproach, his blue eyes sparkling sharply as only an angel’s could.

“Sssssorry,” Crowley managed to say.

“Oh, no matter, dear. I was able to track you down. You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you as a serpent since Eden. It’s quite becoming.”

It took a lot of determination, but Crowley slithered off the warm angel’s lap and back onto the cold ground.

Aziraphale’s smile faded. “Oh,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, I’ve upset you.”

Aziraphale got to his feet. He towered over Crowley like this, and Crowley felt almost claustrophobic. He stretched himself back into human form, the right size, right temperature, right face. He shrugged, and they said no more about it.

But he never forgot what it felt like to wake up feeling so warm and—and safe. It was a harsh thing to realize that he could trust an angel.

                                                          oOo

Crowley discovered that Aziraphale was comfortable with giant serpents in 1038 AD in Cappadocia. Hell had ordered Crowley to hang about in a cave, menacing the population of a nearby town, collecting treasure and making some sort of legend of himself. Crowley had thought that sounded like quite a nice assignment for once. Of course, Hell had failed to mention that the presence of an enormous serpent-monster in a cave would attract knights with swords. That part was not fun.

The first few knights ran away at the sight of Crowley, and so he’d relaxed a little. Then had come a braver man who’d held a blessed weapon. When he got past Crowley’s defenses and stabbed him, Crowley had nearly passed out from the pain. He managed to win the fight, sending the knight fleeing for his life, but Crowley wasn’t sure how long it would be until he came back, with more men and more swords forged with priestly aid.

Crowley needed to leave. The problem was, he was too injured to change form, and he could hardly crawl about the countryside hoping no one would notice a dragon. So he’d blocked off the entrance to the cave as best he could and tried to sleep enough to heal.

He woke later to a sharply cold sensation and the sound of someone humming a hymn. He knew who it was without looking. “Angel,” he growled.

Aziraphale stepped into view around one of Crowley’s enormous black coils, looking a little more dusty than he usually did. “Oh, you’re awake,” he said, in an ordinary tone, quite as if he were talking to a person and not a giant snake. “I’m sorry, I had hoped you’d sleep through the healing. It can’t be pleasant.”

Crowley wanted to hiss at him, but in this form he feared he’d terrorize the angel. He pulled in on himself, groaning in pain.

Aziraphale gave him an admonishing look. “I’ve been here a week, my dear. If I was frightened of you like this, I’d have left by now.”

“A week?”

“And without my magic cloaking this cave, you’d have had other visitors by now. So you can be self-conscious later. Right now, you’ve got to let me heal you.” Aziraphale bustled away out of sight again behind a serpentine coil, but he kept chattering. “Bloody irresponsible of you to do this, you know. Become a dragon, fight knights. We just set up our Agreement, and now you’re risking it all without a thought for me. What am I going to do if you get discorporated? I don’t want Hastur or Ligur as an adversary. Disgusting, the both of them.” His voice fell low. “And if someone comes back with another holy weapon, you could be destroyed completely, so—”

“Ssssssorry,” Crowley said, and the sound filled the cave, making it uncomfortably loud.

Aziraphale popped up again, completely unimpressed. “I should say so. Now, hold still, I don’t fancy being knocked about by your tail.”

The healing took another two weeks, during which Crowley mostly slept. Aziraphale didn’t normally sleep, but the work seemed to take a lot out of him. Once Crowley woke up to the startling sight of an angel curled up for a nap with an enormous demonic serpent, tucked among his coils like a little white mouse. As if prey had found itself protected by its predator.

Apparently Aziraphale trusted Crowley as well. This was not good news. In fact, this was really going to put a cramp into the whole falling-out-of-love-with-Aziraphale plan that Crowley had been working on for the last thousand years.

                                                      oOo

It took a lot longer for Crowley to discover that he was comfortable being a snake around Aziraphale.

After the Abotchalypse, when Crowley was free to visit the bookshop as often as he pleased, he found that it was quite fun to lurk among the books as a small snake, scaring away customers (and startling an angel, if he could manage it). One day, Aziraphale made an exasperated noise and shooed him out of the Yeats section and onto a sunny windowsill. Crowley found that it was actually quite pleasant there, even if it was out in the open, and still a great place from which to menace potential customers.

The point of being a snake in the bookshop, Crowley had told himself, was just that it was an age-old instinct to avoid making it obvious that he and Aziraphale were friends. If Gabriel came through the door, Crowley could easily hide. The problem with that was, if Gabriel made one false move toward Aziraphale it was very likely that he’d be met by a giant serpent who definitely was not attempting to be inconspicuous.

The truth was that Crowley still just wasn’t sure how Aziraphale loved him. He knew that Aziraphale did love him. Aziraphale had said so, and looking back, he’d certainly acted like he had for millennia. But Crowley was a demon. Could an angel really love a demon? Could he love someone who didn’t even have a human face?

One night Aziraphale was sitting on the couch by the fire, reading a book with those ridiculous little glasses on his face, and he was simply the most adorable, impossible, beautiful thing Crowley had ever seen. So Crowley, in snake form, slithered down off of a chair and crawled into Aziraphale’s lap.

Aziraphale gave him an absent-minded caress, still reading. Crowley lifted his head up over the top of Aziraphale’s book, getting in the way. They sat there a moment, human and snake, angel and demon. Aziraphale didn’t recoil or pull back. He never had. He just smiled a little, looking patient. Crowley kissed him.

It was a wonderful thing to be a demonic snake who was trusted and loved in all of his forms. But, Crowley discovered, after having given Aziraphale a small snakey kiss, that it really was much nicer to kiss an angel if you had hands to hold him with.

HolyCatsAndRabbits (Dannye Chase) on Ao3. Fic Commissions for OC’s open!

@summerofspock thank you so much for organizing this event!!

[sungmee]

well this started as ‘i wanna draw giant snake crowley for snake day’ but it seems its turned into a potential fantasy au, so idk

[summerofspock]

According to legend, St. Patrick stood atop the cliffs of Ireland in 461 AD and chased all the snakes into the sea. No wild snakes have been seen in Ireland since.

So, in honor of this historical moment, let’s celebrate our favorite snake on March 17 2020 aka this St. Patrick’s Day!

All snake!Crowley (and naga!Crowley) content is welcome: art, drabbles, fics, comics, edits. The more snakes the better!

Use the tags #GGOSO or #Great Good Omens Snake-Off so I can collect all the posts in one place!

[thelittleblackfox]

Thank you to the spectacular @summerofspock for organising this, the first Great Good Omens Snake-Off! As an ardent lover of all things Crowley and Snek, this seemed the time to share my tiny crochet version of him!

If you want a tiny anxious snek of your very own, you can find him on Etsy

[wargoddess9]

My contribution to the Great Good Omens Snake-Off

Happy St. Patrick's Day

[wasleichtesart]

shhh~ let him ssssssleep

available on my redbubble

[sckorches]

Just a simple tattoo inspired design.

Also, dose any one know what the three stars mean? I see it a lot but I couldn't find any thing about it online....

[noordzee]

For the Great Good Omens Snake-Off, I gathered up some sketches of Brother Fell and Crowley, his snakey fae friend, from my Secrets and Omens AU!

[yamisnuffles]

A little loose snondage for the Great Good Omens Snake-Off.

[carriesfanart]

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For #greatgoodomenssnakeoff I have inked and colored my prior animated loop of snek Crowley. From Crowley to Crowley

[anjael]

Tiefling warlock Crowley is neat so here’s lizardfolk druid Crowley

Not only do you get Timeless Body, Wildshape (snake) but also SPEAK WITH PLANTS, babey!

[axomyrhcal]

snek!Crowley at it again with the plant terrorizing

(plant based solely on a fake plant deco lmao)

[chaos-ineffable]

Snakeskin

I’m a tad bit late but here’s some snuddles (snake cuddles) for the Great Good Omens Snake Off. I haven’t written in a bit and forgot how much fun it can be so this was a nice reminder!

Edit: I thought of a better name while posting to AO3 but I still like Snuddle Time

                                                ____________

Aziraphale likes to consider himself a patient man. He has dealt with a lot over the last six millennia and humans, in all their chaotic beauty, have taught him that patience is indeed a virtue. But even he has a limit.

And that limit is currently being poked, prodded, nudged, pushed, and elbowed sharply. By his darling husband, no less.

“Angel, why do we have to go again? I thought we were going to have a bit of a lie-in. Do the whole lazy morning lie-in shtick. Cuddle, snog, get some well-deserved rest. Maybe even fuck, if we felt up to it. Why are we not doing that?” Crowley whines, following Aziraphale out of the bookshop and tossing their overnight bags into the back of the Bentley. He leans against the car and folds his arms over his chest, practically radiating displeasure in Aziraphale’s direction.

“Dear,” Aziraphale sighs. He inhales slowly, reminds himself that he is, in fact, in love with the demon, and releases a calming breath. “We have been over this. Anathema and Newt need someone to watch over their cottage while they are visiting Anathema’s family in America. It is only right that we lend them a hand after everything they did to assist with Armageddon. Now, please, stop asking. We are going, whether you like it or not.”

Crowley’s face pinches in anger and he grumbles something under his breath but he doesn’t try and argue further. He pushes off the Bentley and stomps back into the bookshop.

Aziraphale watches him go and adjusts his waistcoat in annoyance. All day, Crowley has been like this – angry and picking for a fight – and Aziraphale cannot begin to fathom why. Life has been good since the failed Apocalypse. They’re finally free to live how they like, to be in love and completely entwined in each other. They’ve been happy. So Crowley’s sudden bad mood leaves the angel confused and more than a little worried. But he already promised Anathema they would be to Jasmin Cottage by this evening, so there is nothing he can do about it now other than ride out the demon’s horrible mood.  

Crowley returns with the box of pastries Aziraphale had put aside for the trip. He places them in the backseat and glares at them, ensuring they won’t dare to be smashed or go stale during the drive to Tadfield. “That should be everything. Get in, angel.”

Aziraphale chooses to ignore the grumpy tone and does as he’s told, settling in for a long, silent ride.

---

No one is there to greet them when they reach the cute cottage Anathema bought shortly after helping stop the Apocalypse. There is a note on the door written in neat handwriting explaining that Newt and Anathema had had to leave earlier than expected because of a miraculous ticket switch that will get them to America at a far better time than two in the morning.

Aziraphale glares at Crowley’s back as the demon saunters into the cottage before him, bags in hand and scowl still in place. “Really, dear? We at least could have seen them off.”

Crowley rolls his eyes, the movement obvious despite his dark glasses, and sneers at Aziraphale, “Yes, right, of course. Because going out of our way to help with their damned cottage isn’t enough, we should have walked them into the plane as well. Sorry I didn’t realize this was a fulltime babysitting gig.”

“Really, Crowley, what is wrong with you today?” Aziraphale admonishes.

Crowley doesn’t respond. He growls and huffs and grumbles his way out of the cottage, slamming the door hard enough to make Aziraphale wince in sympathy for the poor frame. He shakes his head and turns away from the door, looking over the bags Crowley had dropped in the middle of the kitchen floor. With a wave of his hand, they were in the bedroom, tucked neatly under the foot of the bed.

Crowley will be back, hopefully in a better mood. In the meantime, Aziraphale could really use a cup of tea. It doesn’t take long to find all the necessary parts and he’s lounging on a soft couch with a steaming mug in no time.

He’s working on his second cup when the door opens and closes softly. He waits expectantly for Crowley to wander in, an apology on his tongue and a fine wine between his fingers. But all he gets is the even softer closing of the bedroom door.

He lets out a sigh. He can’t deny he’s worried now. It has been over a year since they broke ties with Heaven and Hell, a year since Crowley has been this upset about anything and unwilling to tell Aziraphale what is wrong. He sighs and takes a sip of tea. He’ll give Crowley a little more time.

Two hours later and Crowley has yet to leave the bedroom. Quietly, Aziraphale puts his mug down and stands. He has given Crowley long enough to address what the matter is. If he won’t come to Aziraphale, then Aziraphale will just have to go to him.

He knocks softly on the bedroom door. “Crowley, darling, can I come in?”

No response.

He knocks again and asks the same question a little bit louder. This time there’s a muffled hiss. It sounds annoyed but Aziraphale learned a long time ago that when it comes to Crowley, annoyed doesn’t necessarily mean no.

“Okay, I’m coming in.” The door swings open easily and Aziraphale stares at the sight before him.

All he sees is black and red. Loops and loops of it fill the room, coiling around the furniture, writhing and shifting constantly. It shines in the low light of the setting sun, glimmering in a way only newly revealed skin can. Around the edges of the room, tucked beneath muscular coils, is a dried-up pile of old skin. A pair of eyes stare unblinking from the mattress, a sheath of white-blue scales covering their true brilliance. A blue-black tongue flicks at the air and Crowley hisses softly. He sounds ashamed.

“Oh, my love. You should have told me you were shedding.”

Crowley hisses again, his tail flicking against Aziraphale’s wrist and wrapping gently around his arm. He shifts his head on the mattress, adjusting his coils, each the width of a small child, and pulls Aziraphale towards the bed.

Aziraphale goes willingly. “Do you need help, dear? Water, perhaps? Although it looks like you’ve got most of it off yourself. And how beautiful you look. Your scales are positively gleaming.”

There is no reaction to his praise. Crowley simply flicks his tongue out again and recoils slightly when it brushes against Aziraphale’s trousers. He recovers quickly and presses his head into Aziraphale’s hand, rubbing his snout against his wrist and working his way up, until he is nosing at Aziraphale’s face. He wraps around the angel’s shoulders and squeezes gently, hissing a soft apology into Aziraphale’s collarbone.

“My heart, there is no need to apologize. I should have asked why you did not want to come here instead of assuming I knew. Let’s both promise to work more on communicating and we can forget any of today ever happened, yes?”

Crowley unwraps himself from Aziraphale and hisses in agreement. He lowers himself back down to the mattress and rests the side of his head against Aziraphale’s fingers. This close Aziraphale gets a better look at the eye caps. They’re cloudy with a tint of blue and completely cover Crowley’s eyes. “Do you need me to pull these off, darling?”

Crowley nudges his hand again.

Aziraphale pulls away enough to inspect the area around the eye, worrying his fingers until he sees a small flap of dried skin still attached to each eye cap. With a mumbled warning and as gentle a touch as he can manage, he grabs hold and pulls each eye cap away, taking his time to ensure he doesn’t cause any harm.

Crowley lets out a hiss of relief when the second eye cap falls to the floor. He raises his head and twists, inspecting the rest of his very long body before turning to Aziraphale. His eyes, back to their full sunflower glory, are enrapturing. He flicks his tongue, waggling it against Aziraphale’s cheek.

“Oh, stop it, you old fiend,” Aziraphale laughs, stroking a hand down one of the coils near his hip. “Now, why don’t you turn back so we can do some of that cuddling you mentioned earlier.”

The last word barely leaves his lips before he finds himself thrown onto the mattress with several pounds of snake wrapped around him. Crowley rests his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder and offers some more snake kisses.

Aziraphale shakes his head fondly and wrestles an arm free, patting Crowley’s snout before miracling a book into his hand. “I suppose this works too, wily serpent,” he mumbles happily before he settles further into the comfortable weight of Crowley’s coils and prepares for a long night of snake cuddles.