#and appleseed of course

[xbuster]

They can’t enjoy anything

[inbabylontheywept]

go to the caverns, the kartchner caverns, roughly an hour southeast of tucson

in the throne room you shall encounter the great yuan

you must fight him, for it is your destiny

cross the fields of soda-straws and fried-eggs and shields. unleash your fury upon him. there will be those who try to hold you back. they will speak gibberish about your disruption of the delicate balance of the great yuan's domain. you must pay them no heed. you must destroy the great yuan.

we depend on you.

The first time I traveled to Tucson I was in a car full of zooted children. I would've preferred being one of those children, but alas, any medication that makes me sleep also makes me sleepwalk, and after an incident where I tried to climb out of the car while it was still going sixty (thank God for seatbelts) I was condemned to a childhood of car trip sobriety.

(You may think that's not such a terrible fate, but you've probably never experienced anything else. Ambien, used correctly, is time travel. And time travel is awesome.) 

Still, involuntary consciousness had its perks. It meant I alone got to spend some extra quality time with my dad, which was always something in short supply growing up. Until third grade or so he worked in the ER, which gave him an absolutely hellish amount of hours. He'd mostly just come home and sleep, which meant that I personally did not know him that well, but my mom hyped him up so much that I always really wanted to. 

So days like that were always kind of exciting to me. A chance to meet the myth. 

I can't remember exactly what me and my dad were talking about - something to do with our final destination in Mexico. But at some point, we awoke my little brother. 

(Waking people up when they're on ambien is always trouble.)

I remember starting when I felt one of his small cold hands reach up to grab my shoulder. The dad did the same, and it jerked the car a little bit - startling someone whose hands are on the steering wheel has its risks. We both turned to look at him, but he wasn't even looking at us. He was leaning over the console, staring into the red and purple sunset ahead, watching the rolling skyline of Tucson like it was drowning in dreams. Like he was drowning in dreams. 

We waited for him to speak. It took a while. Normal social conventions don't apply to people when they're unconscious. The fact that he could talk was just some broken line code in the fabric of the world. 

"Wow," he said at long last. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" my dad replied. And my little brother shook his head like he just heard the silliest thing in the world. 

"It's terrible," he said."Awful. Is Mexico always like this?" 

"We're still in America" my dad said back. 

My little brother squinted into the sunset, doubt and derision etched into his face. After a few seconds, both emotions softened, and he nodded in wonder. 

"Eagle feathers," he said, chuckling softly. Like he'd just solved some clever little riddle. Then he fell like an angel into something deeper than sleep. 

---

(There is a word for angels that fall.)

---

The second time I went to Tucson, I hid from the sun. 

You'd be surprised how easy it is to do down there. Society accommodates it in ways you just won't find anywhere else. When it's 109 outside with single digit humidity, of course you stay indoors. Of course the outdoor markets open at 6 pm, and of course they don't close until 11. Of course. You make the sun mean enough, and everyone becomes a vampire. 

So I roamed the streets at night, kicking up red gravel, watching coyotes wander in between the sea of strip malls. Strip malls are such an Arizonan atrocity. Nobody builds up. The reason the city isn't walkable isn't sidewalks. It's the sun. And you can't solve the sun, so you might as well lean into driving. Mash the whole city flat and crawl through the dust like rattlers. 

(I met a man once, by the canals, that said the strip malls were some sort of American curse for our ancestors including Johnny Appleseed. There's one God in this world, he said, and it's the god of don't-eat-apples. But then we invented apple pie and gave it to everyone. So this is our hell.)

Still. It made the days long down there. Lurking at night and hiding all day gives you something like cabin fever. I needed something to do outside. Something that was outside, but also, somehow, inside. What's inside and outside at the same time? What kind of klein-flask ouroboros nonsense fits that bill?

Kartchner caverns. 

---

I wouldn't say the caves were like walking into Dante's hell - more like finishing the journey. At some point in my life, I'd blown past limbo, lust, gluttony, greed, and anger. I'd spent two decades plus change living in the fires of heresy. Every layer past would only get colder. 

And each step into that cave did. 

My tour guide and metaphorical psychopomp guide was a friendly old man. Familiar in the way that all old people feel familiar to me. I view the world more as a pile of metaphors. He viewed it primarily as water-soluble minerals. 

It was a good work dynamic. 

"These here," he said, gesturing to a long, slender series of impossibly frail stalactites, "are called soda straws."

"Hot damn," I said, and he nodded good naturedly. 

"They're pretty fun aren't they?"

I wasn't sure if fun was the word that made the most sense for it. But I was charmed, and we went further, and he pointed out more formations. 

"Behold!" he said. "Fried eggs!" 

And there were fried eggs. 

"Behold!" he said. "A shield!"

And lo, there was a shield. 

We kept walking, deeper, and deeper into the cave. At the surface, it had been hot enough for my sweat to dry into a stinging white powder. Down here it was cold enough to see my breath. The feeling of descending into hell was replaced with the feeling of being swallowed by some ancient, fossilized serpent. 

And then that began to show up in the formations. 

"We call this serpent-stone," he said, gesturing to an expanse of wall. 

And all I could see was the snake that was swallowing me. 

I don't know why or how that broke the spell. But it did. I'd been walking for hours in the dark, following that man. I'd recognized him many times. It just took that moment for that recognition to be allowed. 

"I've met you before," I said. "I met you on the canals once. Johnny Appleseed." 

He looked at me, and I saw what my little brother saw that first time. Something trapped here, in the dark. A feathered serpent ten miles long. Dead and alive, the same way my brother was dreaming but awake. The first apple-eater. Something more afraid of the sun than I was. 

"You are so close," he said. "It's only a few miles further." 

"Close to what?" I said, and he grinned teeth too sharp for a human mouth. 

"To being like us," he said. "To sleepwalking forever." 

Nothing good comes from waking the dreamer once they're asleep. At best, the dream ends. At worst, it doesn't. 

Running away would've required turning my back on it, and I knew - I knew - that my vision was the only thing locking it in place. I made it real by looking. I made it real by seeing. As long as my eyes were open, it was my dream. 

So I did not run. 

I grabbed the man. I looked him in the eyes, and my hands wrapped around his neck, and he fought like a beast. His teeth flashed as somewhere just out of reach, the flashright rolled, and his tongue stuck out, forked like a snakes, and where a normal man would've turned redder, and redder, and redder, he turned greener, and greener and greener. His neck narrowed and he stretched and wound and twisted until the hands beating against my arms were wings, and the man was a snake and I did not blink once until it stopped moving. Then, and only then, did I take my eyes off the thing and run, shivering, back to the light. 

---

I hadn't seen it before. But the cave was a dead thing. Inert. Like the sloughed off skins I'd find on hikes. A memory of something scary, but not the thing itself. I thought I'd be safe when I made it to the top. But the first thing I saw when I stepped into the light, the first thing I saw looking across the long, flat run of desert - was the other half of what I saw in the caves. 

I'd killed the body. But I hadn't killed the soul. That still danced in the sky. The dead part of quetzalcoatl lay in the dark, dreaming it was alive. And the living part flew in the sky, burning and bright and deadly. A fire unending. 

The month after that, I moved to Utah. And I've never looked back. 

[maybe-im-dark]

Feral father

Based on this post

The TVA agent looked entirely too smug for Logan’s liking as she handed him the manila folder, her eyes glinting with amusement. Logan glared at her, already regretting agreeing to this meeting. He didn’t trust the TVA as far as he could throw them, but apparently, they were doing him a "favor."

“This is some kind of joke, right?” Logan grunted, flipping through the documents.

His stomach churned as the contents became clear. Birth certificates, old photographs, addresses.

“No joke, Mr. Howlett,” the agent said smoothly, leaning back in her chair. “These are your children. Or at least, the ones we’ve managed to track down. It seems your...uh… extensive history has had some unforeseen consequences.”

Logan slammed the folder shut, his claws itching to make an appearance. “I didn’t know,” he said through gritted teeth.

The agent shrugged. “We figured as much. But now you do. And you should know that some of them could use your help—particularly the younger ones. You might not be able to change the past, but you can at least try to be part of their futures.”

Logan left the TVA office that day with the folder tucked under his arm and a heavy weight on his chest.

---

Back at the apartment, Wade was sprawled out on the couch, shoveling popcorn into his mask-covered face while Al was berating him for leaving the milk out. Logan walked in, his usual brooding demeanor darker than usual.

“Peanut, you look like someone just told you there’s no beer left in Canada. What’s up?” Wade asked, sitting up and tossing the popcorn aside.

Logan threw the folder onto the coffee table. “Apparently, I’ve got kids.”

Wade froze, then leaned forward, grabbing the folder with both hands. He flipped through it, his eyes widening. “Holy shit, Logan. You’re like a mutant Johnny Appleseed! Spreading little Wolverines everywhere.”

“Shut up, Wade,” Logan growled, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t know.”

Al snorted from the kitchen. “Of course, you didn’t. But every damn bar has a condom machine in the bathroom. You couldn’t spare a quarter?”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly,” Logan snapped.

Wade cackled, leaning back and kicking his feet up onto the table. “Oh, this is rich. Logan Howlett, the universe’s worst Wolverine and deadbeat dad! But hey, at least you’re taking responsibility now. Right, big guy?”

Logan shot him a glare but didn’t argue. “Some of them are mutants,” he said, his voice softening. “The TVA says they can transfer the younger ones to this universe. I can send them to the mansion, make sure they’re looked after.”

“And the older ones?” Wade asked, his tone unusually serious.

Logan shrugged. “I’ll meet with them. Talk to ‘em. But I’m not... I’m not gonna drop this bomb on their lives. They’ve been fine without me. I’ll just... I’ll just listen.”

Wade studied him for a moment before nodding. “Alright, Wolvie. Sounds like a plan. But just so you know, I’m totally buying a ‘World’s Okayest Dad’ mug for you.”

Logan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m too old for this shit.”

---

The first meeting was awkward. A young girl, no older than seven, was brought to the mansion. Her name was Emma, and she had Logan’s piercing hazel eyes but her mother’s delicate features. She was scared, clutching a stuffed rabbit as she stared up at him.

“I’m your dad,” Logan said gruffly, feeling like an idiot.

Emma blinked at him, her lower lip trembling. “You’re... you’re scary.”

Logan’s heart twisted. “Yeah, I get that a lot,” he muttered, crouching down to her level. “But I’m not gonna hurt you, kid. Promise.”

It took time, but slowly, Emma warmed up to him. The other children came too—some shy, some excited, some skeptical. Logan wrote checks, sent cards, and made awkward small talk with the mansion staff to make sure the kids were happy.

---

The older ones were harder. He met them in bars, sitting quietly as they shared their life stories. A middle-aged man named Daniel, who worked as a mechanic. A young woman named Claire, who was a chef in Montreal. Logan listened, biting his tongue as they unknowingly revealed parts of themselves that mirrored him.

He never told them who he was. He didn’t feel he had the right. But when Claire mentioned her strange healing abilities, Logan couldn’t stop the small, bittersweet smile that tugged at his lips.

---

Back at home, Wade teased him endlessly, but there was an undercurrent of pride in his voice. “You’re like Santa Claus, Logan! Except instead of presents, you’re handing out emotional trauma and mutant genes!”

Logan rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile that crept onto his face.

Al muttered from her chair, “At least the idiot’s trying. God help those kids if they end up with Wade’s influence too.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, the folder still heavy in his lap. It wasn’t perfect. Hell, it wasn’t even close. But it was a start.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi, I would like to say that I love your work. I'm looking for a fic that is linked to astronomy, do you have any recommendations???

Hello. Here are some astronomy fics for you...

One Of Us (All It Means Is Hope) by snek_of_eden (G)

“You’ve never seen them before, have you? Stars.” “No,” Muriel whispered, eyes reflecting galaxies. They gripped Crowley’s hand tight. “They don’t tell us.” Around them, snow fell hard and fast. Towards the heavens, everything shon. It felt impossible, but nothing was ever impossible with Crowley, was it? “Hope. That’s what stars are.” ** Muriel is exactly what Aziraphale and Crowley need. Soft December fluff! Hot chocolate, ice skating and Muriel seeing the stars for the very first time.

Sharing the Stars by lyricwritesprose (G)

Wensley has a lot of things to process. Friends with supernatural powers, literal demons hanging around. What he's afraid of. One of the things he thought he was afraid of was Mr. Crowley. But Wensley almost thinks he's getting used to Mr. Crowley. What's more, it almost seems like Mr. Crowley is getting used to him. It's an unlikely friendship—is it a friendship?—but whatever it is, it's getting moreso. Especially once Mr. Crowley figures out that Wensley is interested in astronomy.

Binary Stars by WaitingToBeBroken (T)

Aziraphale has been going to Crowley's astronomy lectures at the local planetarium for a few months now. It is only because he is really interested in space, of course. He loves all the... constellations. And the stars! And then Crowley asks him out for coffee.

A Far Cry From Our Own Sun by quiltedspacemittens (T)

An upcoming eclipse, a telescope, a public garden, and two astronomers weathering the summer along the Hudson River.

The Constancy of Stars by AppleSeeds (T)

Struggling with the fast pace of change in his life and seeking to connect with something more stable and constant, Aziraphale attends an event run by the Tadfield Astronomical Society to learn more about the stars. After meeting captivating astronomer Crowley, Aziraphale realises that the constancy he's been seeking in his life is more about wanting to have someone, rather than something, that he can rely on to always be there, but would it be too much to hope that Crowley might share his feelings?

Clear Skies by twistysoup (M)

Retired bookshop owner Aziraphale decides to join a local astronomy club, where he meets Crowley, a retired astronomy professor. They hit it off immediately and are pretty much inseparable for the rest of time. Three dates later and they find themselves sharing a cottage in the South Downs. What if it all worked out from the very beginning?

- Mod D

[thebarroomortheboy]

Speaking of fabulous characters, England has produced a bumper crop of them. But don't forget, over here in the colonies, we've managed to come up with a few of our own. How about Paul Bunyan, Pecos Bill, Johnny Appleseed, Black Bart, Davy Crockett, Daniel Boone and, of course, the one and only Ichabod Crane. Old Ichy, if you recall, was the country schoolmaster dreamed up by Washington Irving. Oh, he had a way with the yarn, good Mr. Irving.

THE ADVENTURES OF ICHABOD CRANE (1949) | dir. James Alger, Clyde Geronimi and Jack Kinney

[curiouspupsicle]

Good Omens Fan Fiction Friday (1/10/25) - "Mixed" AU Fics

Okay, this is a weird theme. But it occurs to me that some of my fave fics have been tales where one of our ineffable pair is mortal while the other remains a supernatural being. It's a rich starting point for fiction. And it brings some creative results.

Let's start off with The Scarecrow (M) by AppleSeeds in which a lonely Aziraphale inherits a 14th century home. One night, the scarecrow he's been talking to in the field mysteriously appears in his bedroom. It's a little spooky with a sweet ending. Also by AppleSeeds is Ghost (T) in which Crowley finds a posh ghost sharing his flat. Said ghost is apparently worried about him and makes him dinner and draws him relaxing hot baths. Imaginative story with a surprising ending.

I'll admit this next pick gave me pause. I avoided it for a long time before reading thanks to the explicit rating, presence of a sleep paralysis demon, and the dub consent tag. But when I took a chance, Be Still, My Love, Be Still (E) by @entanglednow quickly became a fond favorite. It's amazingly tender. And the writer finds a creative way to incorporate consent into a relationship where one party is paralyzed and unable to speak. I highly recommend this lovely story.

Want some demon/human fluff? Check out Blue Roses (G) by NotEvenCloseToStraight. The demon Crowley owns a flower shop across from a cute bookshop owner. He "talks" the flowers into behaving in a way that will ensure he gets a shot at making the relationship progress.

The monarch of comic asides, @wyvernquill, gives us a crossover with a famous musical in The Serpent of the Opera (T). The wily Phantom, er Serpent, kidnaps Eden Opera House's bookkeeper, Aziraphale. Hilariously oblivious Aziraphale assumes it was so he could play matchmaker for the Serpent with his true love. Loads of laughs. Fun to see the extremes to which denial can go. In 21 Grams (T) by @hakunahistata, Hell gives 7-year-old orphan Anthony the ability to see demons. As you can imagine, he's terrified. But he gets help from angel Aziraphale after praying. So thankful to @addledmongoose for suggesting this. I absolutely love it.

Aziraphale buys a cottage for a great price in @commodorecliche 's in the house we remain (M). But the books authored by a former owner, Anthony Crowley, who died on the property, keep turning up in surprising places. A sweet, ghost love story.

Crowley finds Aziraphale working in a library on earth after losing track of him a year after leaving the bookshop in Among the Stacks (NR) by MeinirRhos. But Aziraphale doesn't remember being an angel. And is apparently mortal? Of course, Crowley has no choice but to love him anyway. The opening line: "What do you wear to mourn when all you ever wear is black?" Yep. lots of angst but a happy ending.

My final choice is a fandom classic beloved by many. So if you haven't read it, I highly recommend the series, Pray for Us, Icarus (G & T) by Atalan. Crowley becomes human and reincarnates over 300 years. Aziraphale tries to restore Crowley to his immortal, demonic status but only ends up hurting them both. It will break your heart. And heal it by the end. I promise.

Did I miss your favorite tale of a mortal/supernatural pairing for our adorable Good Omens characters? Share in the comments. More recommendations each Friday--follow and reblog if you like what you see. Check out my other favorite fics on this pinned post of weekly Good Omens fan fiction recommendations.

[sabine-smitten-obviously]

Good Omens - December reads part #3- fanfics recs 🤓🩷🎄

I ´ve decided to write a short summary each month about the books i read. I need this to let go of the stories, its a nice way of saying good-bye to them and to spread the love to the authors and to you. 🩷

I only read finished stories and rarely one-shots. You will find no WIPs in here, as i really like to dive deep into the plot and i keep losing track of WIPs. Also you will only find happy or at least hopeful endings here - i couldn´t handle anything else.

Also i try to find every author here on tumblr to link-to, but sadly some times i am out of luck. If you happen to know them, please tell them, write to me in the comments or DM me and i will update the post!

Ratings in ()

Multichapter Fanfics

Dark Literature (E) by @unproblematicme

Well this was a first for me. Human AU with our ineffable loves being exes. Ugh. Lucky for me, Aziraphale is hired by Gabriel to work for the same company on a regular basis. But all of this somehow fades into the background as a haunting starts on the 13th floor of the building. Massive ghoststory and halloween-vibes ensues! 🎃

I'd like to think i still know you (T) by @inherently_human

Human AU. Crowley and Aziraphale went to school together, before life took them on separate paths. Crowley actually detests the thought of the 30years reunion, but ... maybe he would meet Aziraphale again?

Biggest laugh: "Age has not done your eloquence any favors, I see." 😂

The ineffable bride (T) by @theravenmuse

Warlock asks Nanny Astoreth to read him a book he got from the gardener. The story is about a prince named Aziraphale, who fell in love with a farm boy that left to make good fortune, but never came back. Now he is supposed to marry Prince Gabriel.

Happiness, more or less (M) by @mllekurtz

Crowley moves into a flat above a bookshop, glad to have found a short lease. If it weren't for the strange noises in the night ... A ghost story, a love story.

Biggest laugh: "i'm not learning the riddle you have for a name." 😅 I love love love this one. It had me laugh, it had me on the edge and it made me cry. Please give this one a try! 🩷

Intermezzo (E) by @feraltuxedo

Crowley is a former Rockstar, whose career as opera-writer was crashed by Aziraphale Fell's official critique. 10 years later Crowley is offered to write a symphony and get a TV documentary on it, but there is a catch: Aziraphale is the one who will be presenting. Human AU, Enemies to lovers, very nice. Also the author has a way of leading up to and describing explicit scenes that had me wish for more. 😋

The accidental understudy (T) by @appleseeds

Human AU. Aziraphale is the stage manager, when he re-meets with famous actor and former school-collegue Crowley for a play of panto. Sweet fluff ensues as both have had their secret crushes for 30 years.

Love Thy Neighbor (E) by @snae-b

Aziraphale runs a successful bakery blog, but recently he is getting more and more delayed with his posts. The new neighbor is simply a nuisance with his construction noises throughout the day and his loud music in the night. One evening his temper gets the best of him and Aziraphale fists on the door. What will he see, when the door opens? You'll never guess. 😉

Oneshots

Naked in Malibu (E) by @cemeteryangel725

Human AU. Crowley is a famous actor, who is home early from his shoot without telling anyone. And naked. Aziraphale is the hired interior designer, who just so happens to be in Crowley´s home to redesign it. The rest is epic seduction and surprises beneath clothes.

Actually a re-read, as the author gifted us a with a sequel for christmas - see next! 🤓

Naked in New York (E) by @cemeteryangel725

Crowley and Aziraphale have been dating secretly for months now. They both have been falling in love and - of course, these are our beloved idiots! - they have NOT been talking about it. But there is this big red carpet-thingy coming up. Oh no, what is Crowley supposed to do? 😉

Hot Blood, Hot thoughts, Hot Deeds (E) by @supergeek21

Aziraphale sorts the books, when shortky before closing time a strange looking man, dressed all in Black and kind of outdated clothes comes in. He has quite some sharp teeth, too ... 🧛‍♂️🦇

The Serpent King (T) by @angela345

After the death of his father, King Gabriel rules the country. But a curse seems to have befallen the former prosperous kingdom. So knights are being sent out to the Serpent King of the neighbouring kingdom. Will they be able to break the spell? A fairytale.

Stocking Stuffers (E) by @cemeteryangel725

Yes, i know - this is the 3rd rec for @cemeteryangel725 in this blog alone. What can i say - she is a glorious (smut)writer. 😁 In this one we meet again with our beloved husbands from the human AU "Of fire and falcons", which you should definitely read, too. In this oneshot Crowley does a little christmas-strip for his Santaziraphale. 🌶️🎅

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boutique (T) by @dragonfire42

Aziraphale goes shopping with Jim to dress him up for the ball ... Sweet!

The Snake Prince (T) by @LTRisback

Aziraphale takes a walk and bumps into a snake - a talking snake. He offers to save him from the cold and takes him to his bookshop.

Sweet, short fairytale i found bc of another artist who made this beautiful Art to it @rocas-are-doing-well

Only Ever Meant For Someone Else (T) by @di-42

Human AU. Every year the night before christmas, Aziraphale drives his passengers for free as an act of charity. This year, when he has finally finished his shift, there is a commotion behind him. Realising the other driver has wrecked his bentley, he offers to take him to the hospital, where his - presumably - wife Anathema is in labour.

Beautiful little christmas story, seasoned with a bit of angst and a happy ending. 🎄

Biggest laugh: “Of course. I can see how this entire predicament is very clearly her fault.” 😅

I loved this story and it stayed with me for several days.

All the pretty girls (T) by @spectrallydistracted

Crowley has made a pact with Ana to date each week for a whole year - or as long as it takes to find a partner. Sadly all the pretty girls never click. Unlike the very male barista Aziraphale ... 😉

So thats 16 stories this time, next year i will start counting for the whole year, just for the fun of it. 🥳

Found something you like? Spread the love with kudos, sharing and loving 😅🩷

Have a wonderfull start to 2025! 🎆

[c-kiddo]

Read annihilation because of you, loved it!

Any more book recommendations?

aw glad you liked it :D

the rest of the series if you liked annihilation of course (tho its not quite as neatly well told they are good and i rly liked them as well. some rly rly good scenes especially the kind of whole run-up to the end of authority and a bunch of stuff in acceptance) . . others:

split tooth - tanya tagaq (heavy but very good, also nice illustration) into thin air & into the wild - jon krakauer (i liked both a lot) jonny appleseed - joshua whitehead (loved this sm) little blue encyclopedia (for vivian) - hazel jane plante (weird and lovely and caring. made me cry) underland - robert macfarlane (i feel like this goes with the weird fascination with abandoned and underground strange places thats in Annihilation but its nonfiction. instead of the tower its salt mines) comet in moominland - tove jansson (moominpappa at sea is one of my other favourites but this is the first novel. first book is technically moomins and the great flood but comet is rly good) the living mountain - nan shepherd (love anything appreciating mountains like this. i love the cairngorms too) our wives under the sea - julia armfield (this is pretty similar in vibes to annihilation, just the domestic came-home-wrong thing instead of travelling into the place that changes you, and the deep sea instead of swampland area x.. i have to assume the author read annihilation bc its v similar energy. i did like it a lot. leah is so me fr)

[addledmongoose]

Good Omens Fanfic Friday (07 Feb 2025)

The Groundskeeper (74K; Rated E) by @fishey-me

Fairy Tale AU.

The Fell family ruled over the town and made it prosperous for generations thanks to a dark bargain they made with the Unseelie fae - binding the mysterious Groundskeeper to their service - but lately, the town has begun to suffer due to the family not upholding their end of the bargain. Aziraphale must return home to settle his father's estate and face the trauma he fled as a boy and the magical forces and people who want him to uphold the bargain… at the cost of his own life. Will Aziraphale sacrifice himself to save the townsfolk, or will there be another way he can satisfy the demands of the fae with his life intact?

***

Once Bitten (88K; Rated E) by @cemeteryangel725

Omegaverse AU. In this modern dystopia, omegas have almost no rights, and lycans (alpha shapeshifters) have even fewer. Crowley is an omega who's been in hiding the last three years after his last relationship went very south, when a blond lycan on the run lands on the roof of his building. Be warned: the flashbacks to Crowley's past life are extremely dark. But his relationship with Aziraphale is almost entirely sweet and lovely.

This Aziraphale is much closer to Sheen's Lucien character in the Underworld series: tall, built like a brick shithouse, and definitely an alpha (of course, being Aziraphale, he's still without all the postering and such).

***

The Thirteenth Apocalypse (12K; Rated M) by @missunderstoodlyrics

A Buffy:TVS crossover fic. Buffy shows up in London to stop another apocalypse and runs into a certain demon and his angel husband. Now if only they'd stop snogging long enough to help her. The author has a great handle on Buffy's voice.

***

The Greasy Pole (4K; Rated T)

Another wonderful AppleSeeds short. Furfur gets promoted to Temptations and asks Crowley for help learning the ropes. Crowley performs a demonstration with Aziraphale, who, it turns out, is a very good actor.

***

Take Me Home (20K; Rated M)

After Crowley interrupts a crossroad demon's attempts to steal the soul of a kid, the demon and his friends attack him, holding him deep in the Appalachian woods and torturing him all night. This is a very dark but very well-written story. Take careful note of the Graphic Descriptions of Violence tag; it's no joke.

***

The ex-antichrist's college guide to coming out, growing up, and passing your midterms (23K; Rated T) by @thehumantrampoline

An adorable romance between Warlock Dowling and Adam Young in their first year at uni. The story is set eight years after the averted apocalypse. I love the way Adam and Warlock are portrayed here.

[marlynnofmany]

Starseed Apples

“Here you go,” I said, putting down the last box. “Uncut fabric, plumbing supplies, and three cases with a fungus biohazard label. Do I even want to know what’s in those?” I cast a curious look at my fellow human as I handed over the signing pad. She was shorter and rounder than I was, dressed in a crisp uniform of a type I didn’t recognize. Big pockets everywhere.

She signed with a wry grin. “Those are dirt.”

“Dirt?” I repeated, looking around the admittedly spotless loading dock of this particular space station. “Dirt warrants a biohazard here?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she said, handing the pad back. “Organic mulch that could contain anything from decomposed animals to fungus to poop? With uncountable amounts of bacterial life and potential germs? We’re lucky they only focused on the mold aspect!”

“Hm, good point,” I said.

Zhee, who was busy moving boxes off the hover sled, muttered something disparaging. I expected him to complain about how gross it all was, since he was always the first to point out when humans did something to offend his bug-alien sensibilities, but it sounded like he was griping about the strict station rules this time.

The human continued. “We have to keep a clean room between the greenhouse area and everything else. Even there, most things are in pots. We’ve got a great crop from Johnny Starseed right now!”

I’d heard that name before. “Oh, was he the one who sells little potted—”

“Apple trees, yeah,” she said. “Tiny and convenient, but they make an impressive number of apples as long as you feed ‘em quality dirt.” She bent down to pat a box.

Zhee finished freeing the sled. “Reasonable business plan,” he said, sounding almost complimentary.

“The guy named himself after Johnny Appleseed,” I told Zhee. “A human from centuries ago who got famous for traveling around and setting up apple orchards on Earth. Everybody likes a guy who brings food wherever he goes. And drink — I think some of those apples were supposed to be the cider variety.”

Zhee flicked his antennae. “Sounds like a very human thing to do,” he said drily.

“Have you tried the Starseed Reds?” the other human asked. “They’re very good.”

“No I haven’t, but I’d like to!” I said. “I’ve heard good things. I was kind of hoping to cross paths with him at some point. I wouldn’t mind a tiny apple tree in my quarters. Of course, the cat might get at it, and I’d probably have to find a grow lamp…”

She opened a boxy hip pocket, and pulled out the shiniest red apple I’d seen in a while. “Here you go.”

“Thank you!” I said, taking it eagerly. “That’s very generous!”

She waved it off. “Like I said, we’ve got a big crop. And I’ve got a different one that I’m saving for when I get off shift.” From another pocket, she produced a red apple with distinct orange stripes. “Which should be as soon as I get the supplies back to base.”

I laughed. “Is that the booze kind? I didn’t think those were real!”

“Oh yes,” she said with relish, putting it back in the pocket. “Starseed Cider Apples, no fermenting required!”

Zhee cocked his head, faceted eyes looking at both of us. “Poisonous apples?”

“Alcoholic apples,” I corrected, knowing full well that he considered that to be the same thing.

Zhee pushed the hover cart back toward the ship with a dramatic head tilt and antennae swirl. “Now that sounds like a human thing to do.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” I said with a smile. I thanked the other human and followed him, taking a bite of my non-alcoholic apple. It really was good.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Hunger

Crowley is delighted when his next assignment as a Teaching Assistant involves helping to run Eco-Lit seminars with the hottest professor on campus, and even more so when Professor Fell seems quite receptive to his flirting. He's literally getting paid to ogle Aziraphale and listen to him read poetry, what could possibly be better than that? Meanwhile, Aziraphale can sense everything young Anthony is feeling and is struggling to resist the greatest temptation he's ever encountered over the course of his long existence.

Length: 87,842 words AO3 Rating: Explicit/ Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥 Best for/Keywords: Mostly Safe in Public, Human AU, Vampire AU, Professor AU Major Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by AppleSeeds

Note: This is a locked work you must be logged in to view it

*Minor Spoilers* Sure hot professors are hot, but what about hot vampire professors? Crowley is a PhD student in botany, and Aziraphale is a Literature Professor who just happens to be immortal. So when Crowley starts as Professor Fell's TA, it becomes a smoldering push and pull of temptation and resistance. An intoxicating flirtation, that will end in blissful satisfaction.

So how does environmental academia mix with a vampire story anyway? Surprisingly well actually. There's a lot of talk and banter about environmental and societal change, and it turns out that climate anxiety is a very fascinating topic to hear a vampires point of view on! This story has some really clever ideas and philosophical questions, and the setting allows it to talk about those ideas in a very engaging accessible way. It's an AU that knows it's jargon, and you may leave learning a thing or two!

For most of this you'll be fine in public. At the start it is certainly suggestive, but not too explicit. Lots and lots of flirting, daydreams, and temptations. Enough to really get your blood flowing. When it finally gets super steamy you'll know, so savour those bits for some privacy. It's deliciously naughty, but so enthusiastically consensual and tender! Overall, such a fascinating story with some really cool world building and characterization. A win for fans of simp Crowley!

Read it here, fic by AppleSeeds

[inbabylontheywept]

Kartchner Caverns

The first time I traveled to Tucson I was in a car full of zooted children. I would've preferred being one of those children, but alas, any medication that makes me sleep also makes me sleepwalk. And after an incident where I tried to climb out of the car while it was still going sixty (thank God for seatbelts), I was condemned to a childhood of car trip sobriety: No more poor-man's time travel. No more ambien. One less morally ambiguawesome parenting decision from my crazy-ass dad.

I was talking with him when it happened.

I can't remember exactly what we were talking about - something to do with our final destination in Mexico. But at some point, we woke up my little brother. 

(Nothing good happens from waking the dreamer. Best case scenario, the dream ends. Worst case, it doesn't.)

I remember starting when I felt one of his small cold hands reach up to grab my shoulder. Our dad did the same, and it jerked the car a little bit - startling someone whose hands are on the steering wheel has its risks. Dad and I both turned to look at him, but he wasn't even looking at us. He was leaning over the console, staring into the red and purple sunset ahead, watching the rolling skyline of Tucson like it was drowning in dreams. Like he was drowning in dreams. 

We waited for him to speak. It took a while. Normal social conventions don't apply to people when they're unconscious. The fact that he could talk was just some broken line code in the fabric of the world. 

"Wow," he said at long last. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" my dad replied. And my little brother shook his head like he just heard the silliest thing in the world. 

"It's terrible," he said. "Awful. Is Mexico always like this?" 

"We're still in America," my dad said back. 

My little brother squinted into the sunset, doubt and derision etched into his face. After a few seconds, both emotions softened, and he nodded in wonder. 

"Eagle feathers," he said, chuckling softly. Like he'd just solved some clever little riddle. Then he fell like an angel into something deeper than sleep. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

(There is a word for angels that fall.)

𓆙𓆙𓆙

The second time I went to Tucson, I hid from the sun. 

You'd be surprised how easy it is to do down there. Society accommodates it in ways you just won't find anywhere else. When it's 109 outside with single digit humidity, of course you stay indoors. Of course the outdoor markets open at 6 pm, and of course they don't close until 11. Of course. You make the sun mean enough, and everyone becomes a vampire. 

So I roamed the streets at night, kicking up red gravel, watching coyotes wander in between the sea of strip malls. Strip malls are such an Arizonan atrocity. Nobody bothers to build up because there’s nothing to be gained from density. The city will never be walkable, because the problem isn’t infrastructure. It's the sun. And you can't solve the sun, so you might as well lean into driving. Mash the whole city flat and crawl through the dust like rattlers. 

(I met a man once, by the canals, that said the strip malls were some sort of American curse upon the inheritors of Johnny Appleseed. There's one God in this world, he said, and it's the god of don't-eat-apples. But then we invented apple pie and gave it to everyone. So this is our hell.)

Still. It made the days long down there. Lurking at night and hiding all day gives you something like cabin fever. I needed something to do outside. Something that was outside, but also, somehow, inside. What's inside and outside at the same time? What kind of klein-flask ouroboros nonsense fits that bill?

Kartchner caverns. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I wouldn't say the caves were like walking into Dante's hell - more like finishing the journey. At some point in my life, I'd blown past limbo, lust, gluttony, greed, and anger. I'd spent two decades plus change living in the fires of heresy. Every layer past would only get colder. 

And each step into that cave did. 

My tour guide and psychopomp was a friendly old man. Familiar in the way that all old people feel familiar to me. I view the world more as a pile of metaphors. He viewed it primarily as water-soluble minerals. 

It was a good work dynamic. 

"These here," he said, gesturing to a long, slender series of impossibly frail stalactites, "are called soda straws."

They were beautiful. I can wax poetic at the keyboard, but in real life, my exclamation of wonder is primarily Hot Damn.

"Hot damn," I said, and he nodded good naturedly. 

"They're pretty fun aren't they? Took a few eons to make 'em but I think it was worth the wait."

I was charmed by the way he talked. I knew it was just a fluke of tenses, but there was something funny about the way he described them - as if he personally oversaw each of the dainty little spires. We went further, and he pointed out more formations as we came across them. 

"Behold!" he said just a few feet further. "Fried eggs!" 

And I had to admit: There were fried eggs. 

"Behold!" he said further still. "A shield!"

And lo, there was a shield. It didn't look terribly shieldlike, but who knows - maybe he made the shields first and got better as he went along. The eggs were beautiful.

We kept walking, deeper, and deeper into the cave. At the surface, it had been hot enough for my sweat to dry into a stinging white powder. Down there it was cold enough to see my breath. The feeling of descending into hell was replaced with the feeling of being swallowed by some ancient, fossilized snake. 

"We call this serpent-stone," he said, gesturing to an expanse of wall. 

And then all I could see was the snake that was swallowing me. 

Now, I want to bring something up right about now. At this point, you might be tempted to write off the unease that I was feeling as claustrophobia. Which would make sense - caves unsettle a lot of people. But not me. I'm borderline claustrophilic. When I was a child, I didn't feel comfortable reading until I was wedged somewhere. Behind a shelf, or in a cabinet, or even underneath the beanbag my parents had intended for sitting. Those were my happy places. I liked being crammed into tight spaces. 

I did not like that cave. 

The section of serpent-stone narrowed the further we went. The room started off maybe six feet wide, but eventually it narrowed down. First to five, then four, then three. Two. And it didn’t stop at one. 

The old man put me in front at that point. Said that if I got stuck, he could just push me forward. Didn't occur to me until I'd gone another hundred feet forward, sideways, that maybe getting dragged out would be better. But I was strangely reluctant to bring it up. I’d already let myself get cornered. There was nothing to be gained from letting him know my thoughts. 

But the only way to keep them secret was by going forward. So I poured myself through the crack, slick as slip.  

There's a grain to the scales of serpent-stone, both in the shape of the formations and in the texture of the individual pieces. They're metamorphic, but there's enough sediment left to ‘em that they have a grain. They bite when you go one way, and slide when you go the other. It felt like I was ratcheting myself in. Even if I could slip forward more, I didn't think I could go back. Not without wearing myself down into something skinless and screaming. 

Water began to pool up in sections. It was cold enough to avoid the stink that still waters normally carry, but things stranger than algae festered in the waters beneath my feet. The puddles felt thick, almost slimy. A dozen steps later I saw little ropes of the stuff trickling down my feet. 

Eventually, it got so narrow I couldn't turn my head. I could still hear the old man behind me, but only through little things - the occasional sharp inhale, or steps just an eighth of a beat off from my own. But never words. I remember stopping at one point, just to get pushed, just to know he was there. And he refused. All I heard for fifteen minutes was his breathing behind me. 

He'd called my bluff. There was nowhere to go but forward. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I don't know why it took so long to get dark down there. I wasn't carrying a flashlight, and if the old man had been carrying one, I'd have seen it bob with his steps. There was a sort of soft glow to everything but that had faded hour by hour. Eventually it didn't matter that I couldn't turn my head sideways - I wouldn't have been able to see the man if he'd been two inches in front of me. I walked, and I walked, and I walked, and just when I was about to get stuck for real - stuck in a way where I wouldn't be able to step forward, where I'd have to be pushed (or dragged back along the sharpness of the scales) - I popped out of the serpent stone crevasse like a cork from a bottle. 

Plunk. 

I can't tell you the relief that I felt at that moment. It didn't matter that I didn't know where I was, or how I got there. I'd never been claustrophobic in my life, but at that moment, I couldn't stand even the proximity of the crevice. I scrambled forward, stumbling over the rough cave floor, desperate and eager to find the next wall. To get some sense of where I was. 

I never did. Even as I calmed down, even as the relief of being free of that infernal vice sat upon me like a crown, I never found another wall. Anywhere. I walked until fear made me crawl, as low and blind as any worm. I crawled until my pants tore and my knees bled and my spine ached. 

And I found nothing. 

When the vastness of the space truly sank in, when I realized that leaving that first wall had been a mistake, I turned back. But some choices can't be unmade. There were no walls. Not anymore. No matter how far I crawled, how hard I tried, there was no end. There was nothing but perfect darkness, broken stone, and endless snaking trickles of cold cavern water. 

I dipped a finger in one of the rivulets. Just to feel it. Just to ground myself in something. I felt the waters slither past, and I found something like sight in their motion. 

Water always goes down. Whatever else I lacked down here in the stone, in that moment, I knew up and down. And for the first time in hours, I had a choice. A real choice. No instinct or panic or too late realizations: Up or down. 

I went down. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I’d visited a rope factory once. Watched the threads dance and spin and weave into something mighty. I got a blind man’s sense of that from my trickle. I felt it meet more of its kind, braiding into them like thread. I liked pretending it was still my rivulet, but eventually, I had to admit it was lost in the mess. Picking out one thread from a rope would be easy, compared to picking out one trickle from a river. 

Funny how water can drown in itself. 

The first contaminant to the water was iron. I could smell it in the air -  strong as blood. It should have unsettled me, but I’d smelled water like that before. My grandpas well-water stained everything it touched rusty red. His sinks, his showers, his fields. Even his teeth. He was wealthy enough that he could've wiped the stains off decades back, but he told me once that he liked the way it made other people uncomfortable. The way it reminded everyone who saw him smile that by sacrament or soil, they too drank of god. 

The next contaminant was the thick water from before. Apparently, the stagnant pools weren’t as still as I’d thought. Somehow, over strange eons, they too could seep through the stone and make their way into this deep river. It was scentless, but I could feel it catch around my ankles on some steps. It seemed like a memory from a different life. I just didn’t feel like the same person that crawled through the serpent-stone crack. I was just some stranger wearing his shed skin. 

Then at long last came a smell of deep sulphur 🜏. It was an odd contrast with the sharply cold air, and the strangely warm waters. It was the least pleasant of the bunch, but I endured it well. I followed until the tears streaming down my cheeks felt as normal as breathing. Until the rush of the river was replaced by the pounding of waves. 

I’d arrived on a beach. I couldn’t see the ocean in front of me, but I could hear how vast it had to be. There was a terrible stench, worse than the sulphur - the smell of some vast death. Godly carrion. A wound in the world long left to fester. 

I sat there on the beach of that ocean. Afraid to let those dark waters touch me. Thinking and waiting and worrying about what would happen next. 

A voice spoke just twenty feet behind me. I recognized it. I never would’ve recognized it before, but there was a knack to the way this place wore me thin. Like a razor getting sharpened instead of a shirt going ratty. 

“You’re very close,” the old man said, and I remembered him from all those years ago - sitting cross-legged in the moonlight by the bank of the canal. Looking up at me, eyes dark, and calling me over to tell me a secret. 

There's one God in this world, he said then. One God. And it's the god of don't-eat-apples. But then we invented apple pie and gave it to everyone. 

So this is our hell.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I turned around. I don’t know why. I shouldn’t have been able to see him. I shouldn’t have been able to see anything. But I could see the outline of where he was on that shoreline. Not as a  bright thing, but as a darker shade of absence. A little hole in the dark. 

I could have run. But that would’ve required taking my eyes off him, and at that moment I couldn’t bear the thought. He was the only thing to see down there. The only reason I had eyes. But somehow, more important than the joy of seeing was the feeling that as long as I kept my eyes on him, he was trapped. Pinned to this world like a butterfly on cork. 

There was a half second pause. The voice was a memory, but seeing through the gaps was new to me. The thing in front of me wasn’t an old man. It wasn’t even good at pretending. I was oddly embarrassed that I’d ever been fooled by it. What I was looking at was something older than this cave. Something trapped down here so long it could not bear the thought of light. The dream of something dead. The sloughed skin of a snake. 

The first apple eater. 

I could see shades of absence. More than the hole in the dark. I could look at the thing and feel the place where its wings should have been. Its first ones, at least. 

It lunged for me. 

I’d forgotten it could do that. 

It slammed into me like the water from the bottom of a dam. The power was nothing compared to the cold. I couldn’t see a thing, but what I could feel made bile climb up my throat. 

It was melting. Running down itself in little streams, like snow melting in the sun. Like the river I followed all the way down here. A hand ran over my face and I could feel it pouring into me, and in my fury I did the only thing I could think of: I reached up, and I wrapped my hands around its neck, and I clenched so hard that I could feel the tendons in my wrist sawing up through my skin, taut as piano wire. 

It was like squeezing wet clay. It deformed under my touch, stretching longer and thinner and smoother even as the muscular length of his impossibly long body wrapped around me. At some point the fists beating on my chest turned into wings. Stolen wings, to replace the ones that were stolen from it, and there was a scream in the cave it was so awful that I prayed it wasn’t mine. 

It was a terrible race. We were killing each other the same way. There was no question about someone dying here in front of the empty throne of god. I just didn’t want it to be me. 

Eventually, it could stretch no more, and my hands could crush more than just nightmare and shadow. The wings beat on me weaker, and weaker, until eventually some cartilage in its great neck snapped under the pressure of my thumbs.

It was like cracking a glow stick. There was a flash of light, brief as thunder, and I could see the waves in front of me. An ocean of rotting meat and bones. The outline of some great, dead serpent, fifty feet tall. And a tower of dead bodies, stretching back to ages that I could not recognize. The only corpses I could recognize were those at the top, with their strange helmets and iconic breastplates. 

Conquistadors. 

When the light went out, the body went with it. Most dreams don’t leave anything behind. Even when they’re made by gods. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I don’t know how I left the cave. 

I followed the river up. At some point, it stopped being the river I followed down. The tributaries feeding into it spread out like a fan, and fool that I am, I kept picking left. It shouldn’t have worked. Part of me wonders if I somehow bent the river to my will. Filled in for the dead thing bobbing in the lake, or the echo that I strangled on that starless shore. 

Or maybe I just got lucky. 

I can remember finally breaching the incline and seeing an exit into the desert. Not the one I stepped in through, but good enough. I can remember getting closer and closer, before stepping out into the burning sun. I thought it was finally over.

I thought wrong.  

I can remember looking into the bright blue sky and seeing exactly what my little brother saw on that drive all those years back. 

I don’t know what I killed down in the cave. Some dead thing in the dark, dreaming it was alive. An altar of blood and bone, designed to hold a fragment. 

But the real thing sat there in the sky. Curled up so tight and so smooth, you could mistake it for a ball. Waiting, and watching, and hating. Alive but dreaming death. The mould that stamped out the form of what lay in the cave. 

Quetzalcoatl, I learned later. The feathered serpent. 

I moved the month after that. Went somewhere north, somewhere cold, somewhere that a snake wouldn’t follow. Most days now, I look up, and I just see the sun. A flaming ball of gas. A little, red, star. 

But only most.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙 𓇳

Thanks to @qsatisfaction and @foldingfittedsheets for being my editors on this piece. And thanks to @dr-robert-chase-apologist for providing the prompt.

[s10127470]

A Magic Kingdom Christmas

It was Christmas Eve, and over in ToonTown, at McDuck Manor, a huge Christmas party was being thrown, all courtesy of Mickey Mouse.

All of Mickey's close friends were all enjoying themselves, doing their own things.

Donald and Daisy were getting ready to sit down on the couch together, all while looking at each other with enamoured looks. But right when they sat down, a loud fart was heard on Donald's side, much to to their shock and Donald's embarrassment, prompting his face to turn red. But upon looking down, Donald would find a whoopie cushion underneath him. After seeing it, he heard what sounded like snickering, and upon turning to the left, he saw Huey, Dewey and Louie.

"Why you little....." Donald angrily muttered as his face started to turn red.

Soon enough, he got up yelling and started chasing his nephews, who were laughing during the whole thing. Meanwhile, Daisy just sighed and rolled her eyes.

Goofy was decorating the Christmas tree, all while standing up on a stool.

But suddenly, the stool toppled over, taking Goofy with him, prompting him to land face-first on the floor.

Roger and Jessica Rabbit were kissing under the mistletoe.

Max was awkwardly flirting with Roxanne.

Chip, Dale, Monterey Jack, Gadget, Zipper, Pete, PJ, Pistol and Bobby were helping themselves at the food table.

Peg was chatting with Clarabelle, Della and Horace.

And Webby was playing with Pluto.

However, there was one person not enjoying himself.

And that was, ironically enough, Mickey himself, who was looking rather worried.

"Oi, Mickey. What's the matter?" Scrooge asked.

"Oh, sorry Scrooge. It's just that the party officially starts in 30 minutes, and I haven't seen any signs of the others." Mickey answered.

"Don't worry, lad. I'm sure they'll be here soon." Scrooge stated.

Over in The Land of Legends, up in the woods of Oregon, Paul Bunyan had just cut down a massive Ponderosa pine.

Soon after, Paul picked up the massive tree and slung it over his right shoulder.

"Well Babe! Looks like we got the perfect tree for the party!" Paul said to his faithful ox, who nodded in agreement, "Now we all gotta do is find a quick way to ToonTown."

"We can help with that!"

Upon hearing this, Paul and Babe instantly looked down at the railroad right below them, where they saw the legendary locomotive, Cannonball, which was being driven by who else? But Casey Jones.

And inside the train were the people of The Lands of Legends (as well all the other realms of Westernland), who were all sticking their heads out the windows.

“Hey fellas! Heading off to the party?” Paul greeted his friends down below.

“You bet we are!” John Henry responded.

“Same here, but I think I’m gonna be late.” Paul stated.

“I don’t think so, big guy.” Pecos Bill remarked as he pointed over towards the end of the train, which had a massive open cart that was huge enough to fit Paul, Babe and the pine, much to their surprise.

“Did you guys make that?” Paul asked.

“Yep! Just for you and Babe!” Johnny Appleseed answered, prompting Paul to smile wide.

"Well then.....what are we waiting for?" Paul said as he and Babe immediately got into their speciality cart, "Let's get this show on the road!"

"Way ahead of you, Paul!" Casey called out.

And with the pull of a lever, The Cannonball instantly took off as fast as a speeding bullet.

High up in the skies of Neverland, the people of the realms of Fantasyland were soaring, thanks to some pixie dust.

While most of the people were doing quite fine, some were struggling.

Like Eugene, who was looking quite uneasy and frequently stumbling in mid-air.

"P-P-Peter, was this really the best way to get to the party?" Eugene asked.

"Of course it is, Eugene! By flying, we'll get to ToonTown in no time!" Peter answered.

"Well, as you can clearly see, some of us are not exactly the best at flying." Eugene stated.

"Don't worry, Fitzherbert! It just takes some time to get used to it. Just keep thinking happy thoughts, and you'll be good!" Peter explained.

"Happy thoughts, huh?" Eeyore questioned in his usual sullen tone.

Just then, he slowly started to descend, much to his and everyone else's shock.

"Oh no...." Eeyore stated with a frightened look.

Luckily, Belle quickly swooped down and grabbed Eeyore.

"Thanks Belle." Eeyore said with a small smile.

"You're welcome, Eeyore!" Belle responded.

Over in London Town, Roger and Anita were getting into their car, which was accompanied by Pongo and Perdita, Casey, his wife Mrs. Casey, and their nine daughters The Caseyettes, Mary Poppins, Lady, Tramp, Jock, Trusty, and The Dapper Dans.

"Alright gang, is everyone ready?" Roger looked back and asked the group.

"YEAH!" everyone cheered.

"Great! Then we're good to go!" Roger exclaimed.

"Now hold on Roger. Aren't we forgetting something?" Anita asked her husband.

Although confused at first, Roger finally realized what she met as a white lightbulb with black spots appeared briefly above him.

And so, Roger proceeded to whistle, much to the confusion of everyone else.

But that confusion would instantly fade when they felt the ground beneath them shake.

Soon enough, the entire was flooded with Pongo and Perdita's 99 puppies.

"Okay! Now we're good to go!" Roger exclaimed as he and Anita were smushed against the window.

And with that, the group finally took off.

Over at Springfield, the main families and friends of the ToonTown realms were all riding in The Simpsons' car, which was expanded (thanks to Phineas and Ferb) in order to fit everyone.

"Okay gang! We should be arriving in ToonTown in no time!" Homer exclaimed.

But suddenly, Penny was hit with a wave of realization.

"Guys! We have to go back to Wizville!" Penny screamed in a panicking tone, startling everyone.

"Why?!" Homer asked.

"We forgot my friends!" Penny answered.

Upon hearing this, everyone's expressions instantly turned to non-caring ones and Homer didn't show any signs of turning around.

"Uh.....guys?" Penny asked, confused.

Over in the vast space of The Galaxy Far, Far Away, The Rebel Alliance were flying in The Millennium Falcon, where in the cockpit, they were listening to a particularly strange song on the radio.

It was obviously sung by Chewbacca, and it sounded like he was singing the melody of Silent Night.

Everyone was absolutely confused, Chewbacca was looking quite proud of himself, and Han just looked annoyed.

"Uh........Han. What the hell is this?" Luke asked.

"This is Chewie's Christmas album." Han answered.

"Chewie has a Christmas album?! But how? He can't even talk!" Luke asked, genuinely stunned.

"Hey, they'll make anyone a star nowadays." Han remarked.

Over in Cosmopolis, the characters of the Tomorrowland realms were all riding in Jumba's ship.

Unfortunately, they were currently stuck in intergalactic traffic.

Everyone was looking rather bored, while Stitch, who was in the driver's seat, was looking quite angry.

After hearing a honk, Stitch proceeded to yell in his alien language, much to everyone's shock.

"Stitch! You can't say that about people's mothers!" Woody stated.

Over in The World of Marvels, the heroes and their close associates were flying in The Quinjet, which was being driven by Spider-Man (P), who was jamming out to the radio.

They were using an old-fashioned map of the realms to find a way to ToonTown.

"Okay, now we gotta go south. No I mean.....uh...." Wolverine was trying to give directions, "I don't know man. Who do I look like, Magellan?"

"Howlett, you couldn't even spell Magellan." Hulk grimly remarked as he was holding and looking at the map.

"Well try giving it to Daredevil." Wolverine suggested, which got him deadpan looks from everyone, including the aforementioned vigilante.

"You're joking right?" Captain America asked, just as Spider-Man (P) decided to take his hands off the wheel and look over at the map.

"Hey it's right here! This way!" Spidey (P) stated.

"Yeah, Spidey's right!" Hulk added.

"Uh Peter......who's currently driving The Quinjet?" Captain America asked.

Soon enough, everyone instantly looked up from the map.

And upon doing so, they found themselves flying right towards a plane.

Everyone started screaming in horror as Spider-Man (P), Captain America and Mr. Fantastic instantly grabbed the wheel and started turning it.

Although it was close, they were luckily able to steer it clear of the plane.

Once they were back on track, everyone was left completely shaken.

"Does this thing come with auto-pilot?" Spider-Man (P) meekly asked.

Over in Tropical Waterways, the characters of the Adventureland realms were riding on The Congo Queen (which was being driven by Frank Wolff) down the Congo River, all while fleeing from a pod of angry hippos.

"Murder water horses, gaining!" Timon called out in a panicking tone as the hippos were indeed gaining on the boat.

"Of all the rivers to go down, why'd it have to be The Congo?!" Moana asked Frank.

"The Congo is the fastest route to the portal out of this realm! The other rivers like The Amazon would've taken us much longer!" Frank explained.

"Well I think we should've taken The Amazon instead. I'd rather deal with caimans, anacondas and piranhas than hippos any day of the week!" Moana remarked.

Back at McDuck Manor, the party had officially started and there were still no signs of the others.

Mickey looked down at his watch and promptly sighed with a saddened look on his face.

But suddenly, a knock on the door was heard, promoting Mickey to get up and answer it.

When he opened the door, Mickey was greeted by a loud.....

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!"

Which came from the characters of all the other realms, much to his joy.

"You guys actually made it! We thought you guys weren't coming!" Mickey cheered.

"Of course we were gonna make it! We wouldn't miss this party for the world!" Cinderella stated.

"We brought presents!" Elsa stated as the characters of Fantasyland and Tomorrowland pulled out several gifts.

"We brought food!" Stan Pines stated as the characters of Westernland and Adventureland pulled out various delicacies from their respective realms.

"And Paul even brought a Christmas tree!" Luz stated.

"Yep!" Paul said as he placed the pine down, much to Mickey's surprise.

"Wow! This is incredible! But.....decorating this tree is gonna take a quite awhile." Mickey stated.

"I don't think so, Mickey." Merlin remarked.

After swishing his cane, the pine was suddenly decorated with all kinds of decorations. Bulbs, ornaments, lights, you name it!

Everyone was left in complete awe by the massive Christmas tree standing before them.

Suddenly, Daisy came outside.

"What's everyone standing around for? The party's inside! C'mon on!" Daisy ecstatically told everyone.

A short while later, everyone was now inside McDuck Manor.

They were chatting, eating, drinking, opening presents, making love, playing games, and dancing.

Over at the food table, Mickey and Genie were having some hot cocoa.

"You know Genie. This may be the best Christmas I've ever had so far. And the best part about it is just being able to spend it with the great people of this universe." Mickey said.

"You can say that again, Mick!" Genie replied as the duo decided to clink their glasses together.

Suddenly, a ring from the doorbell was heard.

"I'll get it!" Genie said as he flew over to the door.

"Welcome to the pa-"

But before he could finish, his eyes widen in shock as he was greeted by the sight of all the villains of the universe.

"Why thank you, Genie." Maleficent said in her usual wicked tone.

"You're welcome......" Genie grimly said as his faced turn into a deep scowl, "You guys mind standing out while I get you guys a welcoming present?"

"With pleasure." Maleficent replied.

And so, Genie went back into the manor, shutting the door behind him.

"So what do you guys think the gift's gonna be?" Maleficent asked her fellow companions.

"Well knowing him, it's probably a gonna be massive plate of baklava, or a collection of scimitars, or....."

But before Jafar could finish, all the villains were crushed by a gigantic piece of coal.

"A giant piece of coal....." Jafar weakly muttered.

Bret Iwan as Mickey Mouse

Tony Anselmo as Donald Duck

Tress MacNeille as Daisy Duck

Bill Farmer as Goofy

Enn Reitel as Scrooge McDuck

Greg Eagles as Paul Bunyan

Gary Anthony Williams as John Henry

Jess Harnell as Pecos Bill

Michael Sinterniklaas as Johnny Appleseed

Dee Bradley Baker as Casey Jones

Matthew Mercer as Eugene Fitzherbert

Blayne Weaver as Peter Pan

Peter Cullen as Eeyore

Julie Nathanson as Belle

Jeff Bennett as Roger Radcliffe and Merlin

Kath Soucie as Anita Radcliffe

Dan Castellaneta as Homer Simpson

Kyla Pratt as Penny Proud

Eric Bauza as Luke Skywalker

Ross Marquand as Han Solo

Chris Sanders as Stitch

Jim Hanks as Woody

Steve Blum as Wolverine

Fred Tatasciore as The Hulk

Josh Keaton as Spider-Man (P)

Roger Craig Smith as Captain America

Nathan Lane as Timon

Auli'i Cravalho as Moana

Andrew Mordago as Frank Wolff

Jennifer Hale as Cinderella

Danielle Bisutti as Elsa

Alex Hirsch as Stan Pines

Sarah-Nicole Robles as Luz Noceda

Jim Meskimen as The Genie

Susanne Blakeslee as Maleficent

Jonathan Freeman as Jafar

[aziraphales-library]

Thank you so much for all the work you do💗

I was wondering if you have any long human au fics with lots of angst and a happy ending? Again thank you!!

You're welcome! We have #long fic, #human au, and #angst tags where there will be plenty of overlap, so do dip into those. Here are more for you...

Lessons in the Humanities by Greenathena (M)

Aziraphale Fell teaches English at Eden Midtown Academy. His new co-worker, Anthony Crowley, is a bit of a wild card, who doesn't mind ruffling a few feathers. Over the course of the school year, their friendship seems to be growing into something more. That is until Aziraphale is offered a high-stakes job, overseeing state testing for the whole of the Massachusetts Department of Education. They're in love, your honor. Possibly. Probably. It's ineffable complicated.

What is forgiveness but the silence after a scream? by Moonstone_Lingo (M)

After being forced to return to the town he once ran away from decades ago when he hears of his mother's death, Aziraphale is confronted with a past he wants to forget, but one that is hauntingly insistent on being relived. When a chance encounter with a stranger reveals that Crowley is not far away at all, Aziraphale must consider which he cares about more: his belief in God or his love for Crowley, and not wanting to choose, he quickly discovers he cannot have both. Unsure whether it is already too late, Aziraphale learns that he has to fight for what he wants before it slips out of his grasp. or "God loves you, Crowley." "not enough to stop hurting me." "I love you, Crowley." "not enough to save me."

As Yet Untitled by badwolfgirlicouldkissyou (E)

Aziraphale Fell is a number one best-selling author, despite his lack of self confidence and desire to hide from the public eye. Whilst fighting off his anxiety disorder at the premiere of his first novel's feature film adaptation, he meets an enigmatic, mysterious photographer who seems to only have eyes for him. Can they navigate their newfound bond? Or will past trauma and current obstacles get in their way?

Adaptive Innovations for a Changing World by amelia_airheart (E)

When Anthony Crowley meets Aziraphale Fell at Aziraphale's library, little do they know that they will turn each other's worlds upside down. After a magical week spent falling in love, they face a hard reality. Will they be able to make the choices they need to make to build a real life together?

And the fire will consume us by Merlarme (M)

Crowley works as a firefighter. One day he rescues Aziraphale, a paramedic, who is trapped in a burning building. Grateful Aziraphale decides to find his rescuer and, after getting to know him a little better, realises that they have a lot in common and are both so lonely that the accident that brought them together turned out to be a true grace.

Sinking Ships by AppleSeeds (E)

The world is practically on fire and it feels like nobody's doing anything about it, but Crowley's outlook brightens considerably when a new member arrives at his local climate action committee. Crowley is immediately smitten, and is thrilled when he and Aziraphale become fast friends, although he can't help but hope they might one day become something more. When all of his wishes come true, Crowley starts to feel like life couldn't possibly get any better. He can picture exactly what his future is going to look like, until something happens that feels like a powerful bolt of lightning has struck and split Crowley's life right down the middle, with everything before that moment on one side, and everything that is to come - scorched, lifeless and devastated - on the other. With the help of a counsellor, Crowley begins the difficult journey of picking up the pieces and working through what's happened. When Aziraphale unexpectedly comes back into his life, Crowley finally has the chance to get some answers, revealing that the truth is very different from what he was led to believe. Now he just needs to figure out whether that changes anything.

- Mod D

[teslacoils-and-hubris]

Man, I really think more people should know about where the water tastes like wine (the video game, not some magic river)

The art direction is absolutely beautiful, and the soundtrack is fucking fantastic! Seriously, if you like songs like big iron, listen to white rider it's SUCH A GOOD COWBOY SONG!!! Not even to mention the beautiful voice acting!

The loose plot is, after loosing a bet with the devil he turns you into the physical manifestation of American folklore (which is a giant skeleton of course), and now you have to wander across America and collect stories. There's two kinds of stories in this game- the more folklore-y ones like your jersey devil, your Johnny Appleseed, and the various kinds of stories that happened to someone-you-knows-first-cousins-sister; and the second kind, which are the life stories of a cast of characters you meet on your travels, you tell these characters your stories so they'll trust you enough to tell you theirs.

The game is nebulous in time period, so you have characters like a soldier struggling after the Vietnam War, an indigenous woman recalling when her family was forced onto a reservation, a coal miner on the run after becoming a head of the union movement, and a black traveling preacher dealing with segregation just to name a few

The vibe of the game is very like... "hey this country was built on human suffering from a system that exploits everything it can get its hands on, but it can be better. We've made it better before, we can do it again. It'll be a hard fought battle but the people here are worth fighting for, even when they fuck you over because they system is fucking them just as hard"

The game kind of flopped because the main game play system is, well, a walking simulator. You walk back and forth across America and its slow going. But I honestly think the story is worth it!! I actually really enjoy the walking parts because it's a chance to just listen to the wonderful soundtrack lol

Anyways check it out if American folklore and history is something you're interested in! Or if you just like creepy, American gothic aesthetics, or cowboys. Every time I play this game I want to make some sort of story with a similar vibe and aesthetic but Can't because this game did it like- perfectly!

[curiouspupsicle]

Good Omens Fan Fiction Friday (1/24/25) - "Animal Shenanigans" Fics - part 2

I had so many lovely fics featuring Aziraphale and Crowley with animal friends, I had to break it into two parts.

Click here to see my first post. And you'll find all my past recommendations here. Once again, I'll start with a puppy story. How could I do anything else? On his lunch break, Crowley sees a beautiful Samoyed off-leash in the park. The dog is beautiful. But his person turns out to be even more so. So Crowley devises a scheme to meet cute with the dog's handsome person by attracting the pup with a ham sandwich. Organically Sourced Serotonin (T) is by KissMyAsthma and leukozyna.

One of the funniest fics I've ever read is You Don't Need a License for That (M) by @waitingtobebroken. Crowley works in the town's licensing bureau. Aziraphale comes in for a business license. Then returns several times for increasingly ridiculous licenses--including one for an exotic animal. It's ridiculously silly and made me laugh out loud throughout.

In the charming meet-cute story by @itsscottiesstark, Love me Good (E), Crowley admires the beautiful cat across the way and leaves a message in the window for their person. This leads to an interesting correspondence and more.

The illustrated tale, Purrchance to Dream (M) by @ukcalico and @vavoom-sorted-art is an angsty account of Crowley being followed by a mysterious, fluffy white cat after Aziraphale returns to heaven. This WIP is currently on hiatus. But the story and beautiful art make it worth checking out. And perhaps leaving a comment for the writer and artist sharing your appreciation for their work so far.

The Grass is Always Greener (M) by @beerok23 has Mr. Brown and Crowley competing for Aziraphale's affections. Alternating POV includes some by Crowley's cat, Comma. Of course, Comma is the one with the brain cell.

Dog lovers, in particular, will adore When Harry met Bentley (T) by @doomed-spectacles. Crowley has a nervous, retired racing greyhound. Aziraphale has a basset hound. They meet at the dog park when Aziraphale offers shelter under an umbrella during a sudden rainstorm. Vavoom. Excellent banter. Fluffy enough that you'll need a pet fur tool to clean up after reading. I loved it!

Azeutrecia tells a silly story in the correspondence between the new Supreme Archangel and Crowley. In The Kids Are All Right (T), Aziraphale is incensed to find that Crowley has moved on without him and is living in the country with all his girls.

In Slinky Snakes (T), my perennial favorite, AppleSeeds, tells the story of the magician Aziraphale who performs a magic show at a caravan campground. Crowley presents reptiles. And he's very attractive. But every week, his snake tattoo is in a different place. It drives Aziraphale insane.

And finally, a new fic just published yesterday that is sweetness itself. In Darling! (G) by @eybefioro, Crowley and Aziraphale move to the South Downs where they are adopted by the town cat, Darling. Charmingly told from Darling's point of view. I'll return next week with more fan fic recs organized by theme. Please reblog. And follow to see other fics I reblog periodically. And don't forget--always thank your favorite fic writers. They're a gift to the fandom.

I'll be back next Friday with more great Good Omens fan fics on a new theme. In the meantime, check out my other favorite fics on this pinned post of weekly Good Omens fan fiction recommendations.