#book omens week

[ps1snake]

day 2 of @book-omens-week : book era! in 1981, they would've been keeping an eye on warlock. it's also when james bond: for your eyes only came out, so they've gone to see that on a day off or something.

Transcript under the cut!

Panel 1: 1981. Aziraphale moves a small box, and crowley asks “Aziraphale, when you’re done cleaning do you want to see a film with me?” And in smaller text, “i don’t mind if you bring a book.” Panel 2: aziraphale imagines a dreamy crowley, with a rose in his mouth, saying “we’re all alone… in this dark theatre… anything could happen…” and in smaller text, “like, weird hand stuff probably” panel 3: in the real world, aziraphale says “that sounds lovely my dear!” And drops his box, as crowley pumps his fist and says “super!” before listing off showtimes. Between this and the next panel is a large “LATER…”. panel 4: they stand in front of a ticket booth, and crowley holds up two fingers and says “2 for bond, please” while aziraphale looks off-screen. Panel 5: aziraphale looks at two far-off moviegoers, who are saying “can’t wait to see it!” and “let’s invite everyone we know!” Panel 6: aziraphale imagines the two movie goers, staring bug-eyed at himself and crowley as they kiss cartoonishly in the back row. He says “hmm.” Then “no.” Panel 7: aziraphale waves a hand, and miracle sparkles come out. Panel 8: the two moviegoers skip off, surrounded by miracle sparkles. They say “i’ve just had a sudden urge to become a mennonite!” and the other responds “really? I’ve just decided to become amish!”

Panel 1: 1981. Aziraphale moves a small box, and crowley asks “Aziraphale, when you’re done cleaning do you want to see a film with me?” And in smaller text, “i don’t mind if you bring a book.” Panel 2: aziraphale imagines a dreamy crowley, with a rose in his mouth, saying “we’re all alone… in this dark theatre… anything could happen…” and in smaller text, “like, weird hand stuff probably” panel 3: in the real world, aziraphale says “that sounds lovely my dear!” And drops his box, as crowley pumps his fist and says “super!” before listing off showtimes. Between this and the next panel is a large “LATER…”. panel 4: they stand in front of a ticket booth, and crowley holds up two fingers and says “2 for bond, please” while aziraphale looks off-screen. Panel 5: aziraphale looks at two far-off moviegoers, who are saying “can’t wait to see it!” and “let’s invite everyone we know!” Panel 6: aziraphale imagines the two movie goers, staring bug-eyed at himself and crowley as they kiss cartoonishly in the back row. He says “hmm.” Then “no.” Panel 7: aziraphale waves a hand, and miracle sparkles come out. Panel 8: the two moviegoers skip off, surrounded by miracle sparkles. They say “i’ve just had a sudden urge to become a mennonite!” and the other responds “really? I’ve just decided to become amish!”

Page 2: panel 1: aziraphale blows out a relived breath. panel 2: crowley calls aziraphale over, waving the tickets, saying "angel! come on!" to which aziraphale responds "coming!" panel 3: crowley holds the door for aziraphale, saying "So what book did you bring?" Panel 4: aziraphale looks sideways, and says "so coy! as if I'll need it." panel 5: crowley looks mildly incredulous, and says "You really think you'll enjoy the film?" panel 6: aziraphale says "No. Oh, but isn't this so bold and romantic?" and crowley, who has question marks above his head, says "no?" panel 7: aziraphale dramatically points to the back of the theatre, and says "Look, seats in the back!". panel 8: aziraphale jogs up the stairs daintily. Crowley watches with question marks above his head. panel 9: aziraphale is seated. crowley clearly wants the seat on the other side of him, and stares at him. panel 10: crowley steps awkwardly over aziraphale, limbs akimbo. Aziraphale stares at his butt. there's an footnote indicator on this panel. Panel 11: both now seated, aziraphale looks expectantly at crowley, who is staring dead ahead at the film. panel 12: in the same positions, crowley says "theatre's awfully empty." as aziraphale stares at hi, deadpan. panel 13: in the same positions, aziraphale stares at him intensly. panel 14: while crowley continues to stare straight ahead, aziraphale leans heavily towards him, and stares at him with wide eyes, as if trying to blast him psychically. Panel 15: aziraphale tip-toes his fingers along crowley's arm, and says in a large cursive font "you know..." in the corner is the footnote, showing the same panel as panel 10, with crowley stepping awkwardly over aziraphale, who is staring at his butt. the footnote reads "*psychics HATE them," and their thoughts have been revealed as "nice rump" for aziraphale, and for crowley "this is so embarrassing i'm going to fucking kill myself."

page 3: panel 1: aziraphale leans towards crowley and bats his eyelashes, and says, in a cursive font, "we're alone... in the back of this dark theatre... anything could happen..." crowley looks slightly confused, and says "yes..." panel 2: crowley leans forward in his seat and says "but it's a bond film, so it's probably like all the rest of them." and in smaller text, "I love these." aziraphale's face has gone comedically flat and put-out. panel 4: from behind, we can see them in their seats and the screen in front of them, showing james bond in for your eyes only. Aziraphale says "Crowley. did you invite me here just to watch the photoplay." and crowley responds "Movie! or film." and in smaller text "and yes." even smaller text "why?" panel 5: aziraphale looks incredulously at crowley. crowley looks at the screen, with a big grin on his face. he is shown thinking "he's* just like me for real," with a footnote on "he's" reading "*bond." panel 6: aziraphale snaps his fingers, and a box says "POP!"" panel 7: crowley watches the film with a huge grin on his face, while aziraphale reads his book by the light of a miracle.

[edosianorchids901]

Practically Mandatory

For @book-omens-week Day 7: South Downs

“You’re sure I’m not allowed to curse any of the bastards?” Crowley asked, rubbing his temple as he dropped onto the sofa. “I mean, I am still a demon. Cursing’s practically mandatory.”

“I suppose you may be as profane as you like. It is your cottage too, you know.” Aziraphale beamed at him, eyes sparkling with delight at his own joke.

Crowley pursed his lips and flicked a hand. A glass of wine poured itself, and he reached to grab it. Just that movement made his head throb worse. “I don’t mean profanity. Did anything seriously make you think I meant profanity? Did it?”

Aziraphale only beamed more brightly as he rifled through his collection of records. “No.”

“Also no to music. I’ve got way too much of a headache for that.” The wine didn’t help, and Crowley put it down. He rubbed his temple again. “Can’t believe I’m letting you drag me to all these blessed garden parties with you.”

“You could say it’s practically mandatory, as my partner.” Still smiling, Aziraphale put the Bach record down and came to Crowley’s side. He sat down slowly, careful not to jostle the sofa too much, and brushed a hand against his cheek. “I’m teasing, you know. If the parties make you this miserable…”

Head throbbing, Crowley leaned into the gentle touch. “Eh, they’re not all that bad. All the humans are entertaining, bickering with each other about everything. Besides, I know you enjoy the chance to sample all the foods in the neighborhood. I gotta admit, that apple pie was pretty terrific.” He winked. “Not as good as yours, though.”

“Oh! Thank you, my dear. I’ll get some for you later if you’re not too queasy.” Frowning a little, Aziraphale touched the back of his hand to Crowley’s brow. “You are sweating, though, which I presume means either queasiness or a high level of pain. Or both. A migraine?”

“Ngh.”

“As I thought.” Aziraphale flicked a hand at the coffee table, and two cups of tea materialized, steam twining in the air above them. “That does explain why you’ve been so cranky all day, hmm?”

“Gosh, what gave you that idea?” Crowley had taken his sunglasses off when they got home, but even the warm, gentle light of the living room was like staring into… something excessively bright. He fumbled vaguely on the table beside the sofa for his spare pair of glasses and crammed them on his face.

Aziraphale passed him one of the cups of tea with a little worried noise. Crowley took it, drank it, and then shoved it back on the coffee table. He massaged both his temples, which did absolutely nothing to improve the pain, and hissed in irritation.

“Hmm, let’s see…” Aziraphale ran a light, careful stroke across his hair, then picked up a tartan pillow. “Here, dear boy. Why don’t you lie down and put your head in my lap?”

“You sure?” Crowley asked, already doing it. “Thought you had a book restoration to work on this afternoon.”

“Well, I did, but I rather think it can wait.” Aziraphale fussed with the pillow, making sure it was as comfortable as possible. It was very comfortable, and Crowley groaned with relief. “If attending garden parties and neighborhood meetings and such with me is practically mandatory, then what’s caring for you when you don’t feel well?”

Crowley definitely didn’t feel well, albeit less uncomfortable now, and he didn’t really have the energy to figure out what Aziraphale meant. That was much too long and complicated a sentence for his current processing power. “Hmm?”

“It’s, well. A solemn mission or purpose in life or something noble like that. And certainly both mandatory and an honor.” A gesture, and a cloth appeared in Aziraphale’s plump hand. He carefully laid it across Crowley’s brow, then touched his shoulder. “How’s that, dear chap?”

“Feels good.” It was damp and warm and probably would have felt even better across his eyes, but that would mean taking his sunglasses off. He didn’t feel like taking his sunglasses off. “Maybe shouldn’t have spent so much of the party trying to get the neighborhood to start a war over which day the monthly parties should be held. I woke up with a headache. Guess I probably shoulda just relaxed, eh?”

“Well, to be fair, the neighborhood was already quite divided on that. And I know that causing trouble is still one of your favorite hobbies.” Aziraphale’s voice brimmed with fondness, his hand gentle as he stroked Crowley’s hair. That didn’t exactly help the headache, with everything this sensitive, but it still felt soothing even if slightly painful. Crowley hated to admit it, but Aziraphale’s fussing always made him feel better. “You’d have been very disappointed if you didn’t get to start any arguments today.”

“Mm, yeah. True.” Head still pounding, Crowley closed his eyes. He couldn’t quite stop himself from breathing hard, either, even though he didn’t technically need to breathe. His body seemed to have overruled him. “We don’t have any other social events scheduled for this week, right? Or month? Or ever?”

Aziraphale chuckled softly, quiet enough that it didn’t make the pounding headache any worse. “We shan’t have any scheduled until you’re in the mood for it too. And certainly not on days when you don’t feel up to it. We won’t have any more pretending to be fine and giving yourself a migraine?”

“Would I do that?” Crowley asked in the brightest tone he could manage while feeling like his head was going to explode.

“You did today, and I know you would again. Because I wanted to go, I believe.” Aziraphale somehow sounded simultaneously fond, exasperated, and smug that Crowley loved him enough to deal with neighborhood social events. “I know you, you old serpent. But I shan’t be able to enjoy myself at these silly little parties if I know my dearest friend is harming himself in the process.”

Crowley considered that, and sighed. “Right. Right, okay. Point taken.”

“Good.” A soft, careful kiss pressed to his cheek. “Now, you just rest, my dear. You’re welcome to my lap for as long as you need.”

Aziraphale’s lap was always a terrific place to be, and Crowley surrendered to it with gratitude. With Aziraphale fussing over him and stopping him from running off to garden or something, he’d probably bounce back in no time.

And if he didn’t bounce back in no time… oh well. He’d just have to use Aziraphale as a pillow for a while longer.

[floenz]

Book Omens Week 1/7: character design

I leaned very heavily on the book cover designs for these because i love that Aziraphale wears fucking trainers on those

One day I might do a redesign which is more from my personal vibes than inspired

@book-omens-week

[shabby-illustrations]

happy first day of @book-omens-week ! I've done a small update to their clothes from what I used to draw years ago, but it's still pretty much the same. I love these boys so much. Crowley's hair is a bitch

[aphyxiation]

Written for @book-omens-week day 7: South Downs

And sometimes that is all you can have, thought the angel later while preparing one cup of a very black and very strong coffee and not so strong and definitely not black tea. And sometimes that's enough, he added, while taking the first sip. Sometimes it's more than enough, Aziraphale thought when a hand wrapped around his waist. - Or classic South Downs cottage fic, book omens style

This is my sillly little fic, that I've written instead of studying for my anatomy exam, whoops

Big thanks to @hanshaped for everything

Hope you enjoy!

[quillomens]

Book Omens Week Day 3: Historical

I'm catching up since I thought the week was cancelled. Haha. I THINK I'll have day 4 up today, though! It continues from this one.

Summary: The first time they got married was only a few hundred years after the Garden. It wouldn't be the last.

HERE ON AO3

Over the next few days, watch out for: ancient Sumer! The Round Table! Leo da Vinci! Piracy! Two Very Lazy Immortal Beings! Paperwork!

----

Sixty years and some change after their second unfortunate meeting, Crowley happened upon the angel while prowling a sort of  cave-village puttering along in Mesopotamia.   

He didn’t panic this time.  He’d been sent to the settlement because an angel was there, so he hadn’t been quite so startled this time around.  He also slinked up slowly, watching (and tongue twitching beyond his lips every now and then), which helped his reptile brain report, “This is that Eastern Gate fellow.”   

So instead of panic and discorporation, Crowley was able to slide up, smooth and cool, and say, “How’s it going there, oh, Angel of the Lord?” 

The angel jumped, which was very gratifying.  About time an angel was nervous about him.  

The angel’s currently dark brows drew together before his expression cleared.  “Crawly?” he asked, and then, before Crowley could correct him, “No, it’s Crowley, isn’t it?” 

Crowley was gratified again.  “It is.  And you’re Aziraphale.”  He tried to sound casual.  Maybe he’d asked around.  Maybe he just knew things.   

Aziraphale turned his eyes back to the foul-smelling but good natured mortals as they went about their business.  The two of them were visible, not not…noticeable.  Nothing interesting here, please go on about you pre-historical business.  “It’s been some time.” 

“’Bout 60 years.”  Crowley had spent nine of them doing punishment paperwork and other, less enjoyable, things for so quickly wasting a corporation.  But the last fifty hadn’t been so bad, back on earth.  He was finding Earth highly preferable to hell, and didn’t understand why most demons bellyached about assignments on the first floor (so to speak). “What brings you here?  Spreading a little miracle or three?  Light of grace and all that good stuff?” 

“Observing, mostly.  I’m rather between assignments at the moment.”  The angel glanced over.  “You?” 

“Oh, sent here to kill you, I reckon.” 

One brow rose alone this time.  The gray-blue eyes were a little incongruous with his current coloring, but who was Crowley to point out glass houses?  “Oh?  And how are you planning to do that?  Another epic bout of clumsiness.” 

Crowley probably should have scowled, but found himself grinning instead.  Not bad! Most angels were painfully boring.  ….At that, so were most demons.  “Maybe.  Want to stand near a handy fire for me?”   

The angel made a show of considering it before settling on, “No, I think not.  I don’t need any more paperwork or nasty notes.” 

Crowley would (pretend to) kill for a nasty note.  Bet there were no boils and papercuts in heaven.  

“Ah, well.  Guess I’ll just slink downstairs then.” 

Crowley didn’t move.  They kept standing there, side by side.   

“Did you know,” Aziraphale said after several minutes of oddly comfortable silence, “that they’ve started little pairing ceremonies?” 

Crowley shot him a look.  “What now?” 

“Well, you know how some of the animals pair off for life?  And others don’t?  Humans are similar, yes?  Some pair off, like Adam and Eve, others don’t.” 

“Rrrrright.”  Crowley scratched at a flea trying to set up house in the long fall of his hair.  “Hell’s undecided on that one.  Seems to fit with a sort of heavenly chastity on one side, but the way two people can make each other miserable?  Full marks.” 

The angel gave him a censorious frown.  Crowley spread his hands with demonic innocence, as if to say, “Above my pay grade, good sir.”   

Had the movement been invented and imbued with meaning at the time, Aziraphale would have rolled his eyes.  As it was, he just said, “Well, be that as it may, they’ve created this little ritual for it, and it’s rather sweet.” 

A minor miracle caused every flea in the vicinity to go up in tiny flames.  

“Ritual?  What, skulls and blood and feet of newts?”  Crowley tried to look pleased, though the whole concept actually made him a bit queasy.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that “feather of demon” or “eye of serpent” would one day be popular for these “little rituals” of the humans’.   

“No, no, nothing so disturbing.  Just a sort of speech and a promise.”   

“Oh.”  Crowley wrinkled his nose.  He was fond of a good nose wrinkle these days.  Couldn’t pull that off as a snake.  “Sounds boring.” 

“It’s sweet!” Aziraphale argued.  He looked decidedly put-out, as if the opinion of this semi-random demon was of some importance in his angelic brain.  Then he clearly came to a decision and, without so much as a “Mary may I?” wrapped his hand about Crowley’s wrist and pulled him into the bustle of humanity. 

Crowley should have protested, maybe popped a little hellfire, but he was so surprised by being touched without an intent to cause pain (it had been so long) that he shamedly just let his enemy drag him on.  

They stopped in front of a woman – older, heavy set, stripes on her stomach and gray in her hair.  She wore little in the heat, but she had several necklaces of shell and bone, painted with red clay, that were unique among the humans.  Someone of importance, then?   

She clearly recognized the angel and greeted him with a smile and a fair approximation of his name.   

“Hello,” he said back, his smile warm but his voice officious.  “Lovely to see you again.”   

“It was only this morning,” she said, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes that Crowley wholeheartedly approved of.  “I’m not so old as all that.” 

“Of course not!  You’re a lovely young woman.”  Crowley shot Aziraphale a look.  He thought perhaps the angel was being sincere.  Still figuring out aging, was he?   

The human chuckled warmly. “Now then, young charmer, what do you require my help with?”  

“I would like you to show the pairing ceremony,” Aziraphale motioned to Crowley, “to my,” he stopped a moment, frowning.  Crowley watched with some amusement. My enemy was hardly the way to introduce someone without causing suspicion.  After a beat, he settled on, “companion.” 

The human’s eyebrows rose in a riot of wrinkles.  “The pairing ceremony?” 

“Yes.  I told him it’s quite lovely, but he has his doubts.” 

Dark eyes glanced between them.  “I hardly think it is appropriate to perform the ceremony for someone who isn’t certain.” 

“Oh, I’m certain enough,” Crowley drawled.  Clearly it existed, since they were talking about it. 

The old woman eyed them again, gaze assessing.  Then she raised her shoulders dismissively – he'd seen that a few times now, wasn’t entirely certain what it meant to them – clapped her chapped hands, and said, “Might as well!” in a cheerful voice.  

Aziraphale gave Crowley a smug look.  Crowley stared at him, annoyingly unblinking.   

(Later, Crowley would miss those early days, when his eyes hardly merited comment.  The woman had looked at them, of course, but passed on readily.) 

The woman motioned to a young man, who jogged off to gather a few supplies.  She chatted easily with Aziraphale as they waited, and offered a handful of figs to them both.  Aziraphale took them immediately.  Crowley was more hesitant, but gave in when Aziraphale bit into one with clear enjoyment.   

And here he thought angels didn’t eat. 

They were so delicious (he hadn’t properly had figs; they were sweeter than he  that the boy was painting a stripe of clay on his forehead before he realized they’d started.   

“Wait-” he started to say, but the woman shushed him and Aziraphale sent him a look for interrupting.  He fell silent, listening to the simple words.  The gist was all about support – looking out for the other person, working to keep the other person safe, providing comfort. 

It was lovely, though he was loathe to admit it.  A nice idea, having someone to depend on and spend time with.  He couldn’t remember much about heaven, but hell certainly wasn’t known for its comradery.   Shame it wasn’t real- 

The woman took his hand and placed it on top of the angel’s.   

Crowley jumped as if burned – expecting, really, to be burned, that was the rumor – and saw Aziraphale flinch as well.  But. 

Nothing happened. 

The skin was unusually soft, given angels didn’t work, but beyond that, it was just a hand.   

Their eyes met briefly, yellow to gray. 

“And may you protect each other until the end of your days,” the woman said, taking their two hands in her strong, leathery ones.   

Crowley saw, in Aziraphale’s eyes, the moment the angel realized what he had. 

This was not a demonstration. 

It was a ceremony. 

He couldn’t help it.  Crowley threw his head back and laughed, startling the woman, the demon, and several people in the vicinity with the underlying hiss he hadn’t learned to control yet.  It was an inhuman laugh, and an inhuman smile, and the angel frowned at him, but he couldn’t help it.  It wasn’t real, not truly.  They weren’t human, and human ceremonies didn’t mean anything in heaven or hell, but- 

An angel bound to a demon just to make a point? 

Hilarious! 

Aziraphale sighed deeply, the old woman barked a laugh (“It’s unusual, but some people react like this,” she assured Aziraphale gently as he looked like he might throw up if his corporation would let him), and Crowley grinned, broad and toothy and wild.   

(As long as hell didn’t know, as long as hell never found out, he should be just fine.) 

@book-omens-week

[hansoeii]

crowley!

[maeo-png]

goodbye gay winter. wwdits followed by good omens followed by ofmd and bbc ghosts at the same time was absolute peak. we ate like royalty.

[sixshotsinatumbllr]

After approximately a million hours of op shopping, cutting out feathers, knitting, dyeing and fucking up a glue gun, we are ready for Book Week

Here's our take on Crowley

[maaikeatthefullmoon]

This week I have mostly been reading...

May 20-26th, 2024

Hooray, I’ve managed it for the second week in a row! *If you have written/illustrated one of the works I've mentioned and I've not tagged you, please let me know!*

Completed works I've read this week:

Under Construction by @summerofspock Rated E – Honestly, this one can be summed up by the rather excellent tags ‘there was only one wifi’, ‘weaponized coziness’, ‘erotic woodchopping’ and ‘emotionally significant flannel’ (as in the shirt, not the miniature towel for cleaning one’s self…). It’s cosy, it’s Hallmarkian, it’s disaster puppy Crowley, and Aziraphale has a beard. 10/10 no notes.

Temporal Adjustment by @ukcalico & @vavoom-sorted-art Rated E – Written by Calico to accompany the ever-wonderful vavoom’s art, it’s a Post S1 Ritz scene which plays with time and some *very* spicy scenes. Three chapters of mild D/s content – mind the tags if you’re new to that world.

Sweet Dreams: A Companion Fic by @sixbynine-da & @vavoom-sorted-art Rated E – went down a vavoom rabbit hole, which is truly a delightful hole to go down…pun erm…not intended? But perhaps it was. Anyway. The tags initially had me hesitant to read this one (blood drinking, blood as lube) but it was a much more minor point than I was worried about and it ended up being a beautifully accepting, tender, loving story. I shed a couple of tears at this one.

You Can Stay At My Place, If You Like by AstroGirl Rated T – A lovely, touching piece about the moment A & C switch corporations/bodies and get to experience each other’s thoughts and feelings. Both POVs are written throughout the story, which adds a richness and emotion to it.

If It Looks Like A Duck, And Buzzes Like A Duck, It’s A Sex Toy by @quefish77 Rated M – Look at me bring the tone down after the last recommendation, but ho hum. This one had me weeping with laughter. Once again, the tags tell the story for me: ‘Look if you’re here for medical advice I got bad news for you’, If you don’t say WTF and laugh at least 3 times I’ve failed’, ‘Tags Are Fun’, ‘How many will you read before you roll your eyes and read the fic?, ‘Congratulations! You made it to the end of the tags’, ‘I lied there are more tags’. Yes…there were more tags. I laughed continuously throughout the entire fic, so I’m not sure if that counted as more than three times, and I read all the tags before I started reading, but I can guarantee this does not disappoint, but then none of Quefish’s work ever does if you’re looking for humour.

Aziraphale’s Diaries series by azzfell & @fellshish Rated T – This is a four-part series of humorous, fluffy diary entries written by A. 1. Empirical study on the principles of snake care – A tries to look after C as you would a snake…be ready to cringe and facepalm and giggle 2. Experiments of an angel who has read entirely too much fanfic – A finds fanfic. Tries some of what he’s read on C. Yikes. 3. How to be a demon: a brief history of the Arrangement – I can’t describe it any better than the authors’ description: “The Arrangement: the hard and challenging life of an angel who tries to make a demon do good deeds, and in turn has to perform temptations and wear devilishly sexy outfits.” 4. Adventures of a mystery shopper in the bookshop – this was by far my favourite. A puts C in charge of the bookshop…and then mystery shops. I laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

Lit by @fellshish Rated T – C decides to take a Uni course on literature (for absolutely no reason whatsoever…definitely not because he wants to impress a certain angel with his literary knowledge, nope, nuh uh)…but it turns out to be slightly different to what he was expecting…and they’re discussing Good Omens. Shit.

If You Touch Me You’ll Understand What Happiness Is by locketofyourhair Rated E – It’s no secret I like a bit of angst. You need only read what I write to get smacked round the side of the head with it. This one’s got it in spades. C confesses their love for A – repeatedly – through time. To keep them safe, A erases the memory of the confession each time. But A never forgets. Ouch. It does have a happy ending, though. Phew.

Lace And Gold Braid by @elsajeni Rated M – After rescuing A from the Bastille, C went to bed for 70 years. He never actually said he was sleeping. This fic goes into lots of delicious detail about A’s slutty, slutty outfit. The imagery is really well written and it has a podfic!

WIPs which have updated this week (which I devour as soon as I get the update!)

There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out by @phoen1xr0se Rated M - A is a researcher (puffins!), C is a lighthouse keeper on the island where A has run away to to escape his problems and do his research. The author has recently spent a week studying puffins - which is the ultimate dedication, if you ask me. Ch 9/26 posted this week

Find The Light by @klikandtuna Rated E - Headmaster A and Rockstar C. The story teases out a fraught history between them whilst keeping a tension between them in the modern day. Ch 6/? posted this week.

Terminus by @emotional-support-demon-crowley Rated T - Astronaut A is guided back to Earth by controller C after 92 years in space. There are many difficulties both of them have to face and they develop an amazing rapport. Ch 16/17 posted this week.

Oddity by @tsyvia48 Rated E - Actor C is contracted by (useless) Gabriel to guest curate an exhibition at the museum where A works. After getting off on the wrong foot, can they work together to pull off this show? Ch 23/26 posted this week (note increased chapter count!)

Under The Summer Stars by @pannotbread Rated E - This wonderful fic has taught me more about physics than school ever did (mostly because I never did any physics, but...well). A & C have to share their time at an observatory because there is Only One Telescope. Not only will you learn about astrophysics, astrobiology, and astroecology, you'll also read some of the most poetically, beautifully written masturbation scenes I've ever seen. *ahem* Ch 7/13 posted this week.

Exodus2 by @tismrot Rated E – Human AU set in a dystopian future. The summary says it best, really: Ezra studies programming at the University of ha-Gan. He’s as determined as he is damaged, as fastidious as he is precise, and likes to believe he'll stop at nothing to achieve his goals. His beliefs are challenged when a new student appears late to the first Ethics module lecture - and his life is changed forever. It's the future, it's dystopian, it's cyber and it's punk. It's political, grimy and slick with tears, lube and chemical snot. TW: Sex, drugs, trauma. Ch 28/35 posted this week.

Free by well, me: imposterssyndrome Rated E - A & C meet (again?) in an acute mental health ward after both having had mental health crises. A runs a bookshop but is very much under his parents' control. C has been homeless since childhood and has struggled his entire life. They do not trust each other when they first meet, but feel strangely drawn to one another all the same. Where will this lead them? This is a passion piece for me. There is a lot of lived experience in it, and extensive research from both professionals and peers. It has been a real journey for me to write it, and as I'm coming closer to the end it's becoming very emotional for me. Ch 45/? posted this week

Want more recommendations? This is last week's list.

[kellelkallel]

It's book day at my school, and I went... as a Mormon, duh.

From The Book of Mormon.

White dress shirt, dad's tie, loooong black skirt + badge and covered notebook. It. Was. Awesome.

One of my teachers went as Aziraphale from Good Omens! She was amazing, wings, halo and everything. Sad she and I didn't win any prizes, but oh well.

[ps1snake]

day 1 of @book-omens-week : character design!! commentary transcript is under the cut :)

from top to bottom, left to right, aziraphale's commentary reads as follows: - in the top left, some floating text reads "doesn't change his clothes enough (doesn't need to), so it tends to droop & mold to his body. he's worn his shoes for so long that the lace-ends have fallen off!" - an arrow points to the cartoon aziraphale's sideburns, and reads "cloud poof sideburns" - an arrow points to his fingers, and reads "manicured (duh)" - an arrow pointing to his thighs reads "STAIN CITY!!!!! (he miracles them all away. he knows it's there, but that doesn't stop him)" - an arrow pointing to his shins says "a little baggy" - an arrow pointing to his shoes says "popular with nurses & fast food workers" - an arrow points to the semi-realisitic aziraphale's hair, reading "hair tex based on a man from my local post office!" - an arrow points to his neck, reading "droopy bowtie" - detail drawings of his earrings, rings, finger braces, necklace, and bookshop key are blown up. each is labeled as such. the earrings and necklace are matching pearls. the rings are all simple silver bands, with the exception of the right pointer and middle fingers, which are simple silver finger braces, similar to the style used by people with ehlers-danlos syndrome. the bookshop key is the solo key on a large carabiner, hidden in the drawing by his sweater, but shown in the detail image. an arrow points to the key, and reads "just one key, but he wanted a "ring of keys" sooooo bad (he's not a lesbian* but he believes in their beliefs)." the asterisk on "lesbian" leads to a footnote reading "usually." - an arrow pointing to his shoe reads "woman's orthopedic"

from top to bottom, left to right, crowley's commentary reads as follows: - an arrow points to the semi-realistic crowley's head, and reads "F. mercury shades." the shades are mirrored aviators, similar to the style freddy mercury is known to have worn. - detail images of crowley's sunglasses, rings, and earring are blown up and labeled. the earring is a simple black hoop stud. the rings are a snake that wraps around your finger, and a simple dark band. the sunglasses are at an angle that obscures the style of the lens, but the arms are more visible then in the main drawings, revealing that they bend in a severe up-and-down wave pattern between the lens and the ear rest. - an arrow points to his nails, which are painted black, and reads "manifests pre-chipped" - in between the semi-realistic crowley and the cartoonish crowley's feet is text reading ""white" snakeskin shoes match belt and watch" - an arrow points to the cartoonish crowley's head, reading ""he looks like a bug" shades. the sunglasses this crowley is wearing are large circular lenses. - an arrow points to his left ear, reading "pretend this is the gay ear (i forgot)." forgot is misspelled as "forgor." - an arrow points to his chest, reading "this hot pink bitch is named breakfast" - floating text near his leg reads "magic pockets mean the line of his suit is never ruined (which he never rmbrs to take advantage of) - text below his feet reads "those are his hooves you bitch"

the shared commentary is as follows: - between aziraphale and crowley is a line with a starburst in the middle, showing that they are making eye contact. - above this, they are both thinking in a shared thought bubble "i should send him a spam email.*" the asterisk leads below the eye contact line; to a footnote, also in a shared thought bubble. it reads "*in a sex way" - on each character's detail image of thier rings, one ring for each has a asterisk. this leads to a footnote between them, centered in a large patch of negative space, reading "gay ass wedding rings"

[edosianorchids901]

Bad Life Choices

For @book-omens-week Day 3! Prompt: historical

“Awful,” Crowley announced to the empty tavern. “Bloody, bloody awful.”

He fumbled for his wooden cup, knocked it over, and swore. Fumbled with it again, trying to right it, and failed. The cup rolled off across the table.

Defeated for the moment, he dropped his head to the table. The notion of being defeated sent a prickle of irritation through him. Normally, said prickle would ignite a stubborn refusal to give up.

He was too tired for stubbornness right now. Or too drunk, rather. Possibly getting too drunk to stay on the bench; he was sliding pretty badly.

He blew out a long, shaky breath and tried to right himself, which only hastened his slide off the bench. He fumbled at the table in a last ditch attempt to save himself, then plopped to the floor and laid there in an undignified heap.

At the moment, he was also tired and drunk enough that he didn’t particularly care about being undignified. Oh, it bothered him a little, but not enough to motivate himself to try getting up. It would probably end badly, and the last think he needed was to whack his head on the bench and discorporate himself or something.

“Safety. Safer.” Crowley blinked blearily, the tavern spinning around him. “S’ safe…er? Safer.”

“Whatever are you doing down there?”

Crowley didn’t bother raising his head. He knew that voice. “M’… safer. Yup. That’s me. Being safe.”

“You look as if you’re lying on the floor.” Aziraphale prodded his shoulder. “Why are you doing that, dear boy?”

“Better than a bloody great battlefield, eh? Plenty of… fields.” Crowley tried to remember what he’d been saying. “Battles. Plenty of. And bottles, plenty of those too.”

He let out a snort of laughter, then moaned as a wave of nausea swept through him. He might not have made good life choices today. Bad life choices? Whatever life choices a demon was supposed to make.

“Technically, those are jugs, not bottles.” Aziraphale sighed. “Crowley, you are very drunk.”

“Yup. S’ nothing else t’ do. Bloody boring. Boring century. Nothing to do.” At least, nothing he wanted to do. He could wander around and watch a bunch of humans kill a bunch of other humans, or watch plague kill a bunch of humans, or watch famine—

“You could have come to talk to me.” Aziraphale sounded hurt. “I’m not boring.”

Affection tugged at Crowley’s heart, and he turned just enough to give Aziraphale a wobbly attempt at a smile. “Not boring. World’s boring. I just… drinks. Had too many.”

“Far, far too many from the looks of things.” With a judgmental look at the floor, which immediate rid itself of any puke or spilled wine, Aziraphale sank to his knees and laid his hand on Crowley’s back. It was warm. “You really shouldn’t be down here, you know. It’s not very sanitary.”

“Hngk.” Crowley closed his eyes, head still swimming. He was kinda starting to feel like he might redecorate the floor with some vomit of his own.

“Would you like to go back to your room?”

“Hhh.”

“Are you able to walk?”

“Nuh.”

“May I help?”

Crowley mustered a faint glare before yielding to the wooziness and letting his head fall back to the floor. “Rooms have… room. For staying.”

“Goodness gracious. You are in a state.” Aziraphale petted his head, a few gentle strokes across his dark hair, and then took hold of him. “Up you get.”

Up? Which direction was even up? Crowley couldn’t tell that, although he could definitely tell things were shifting and moving and wobbling. His stomach flipped over, and the contents abruptly figured out which way “up” was.

Aziraphale held him still until he stopped throwing up, then moved him in some direction, hopefully the direction of his room. “You know, you really ought to have sobered up before you got to this point.”

“Right. Right. But then I woulda—whoops.” Crowley tripped over his own feet, but Aziraphale kept him from toppling back to the floor. “Would been, whatsit. Bored again. Bloody boring century.”

“Not precisely the way I’d describe it.” Aziraphale steered him somewhere and then lowered him. Crowley clutched vaguely at Aziraphale’s arm in a blast of confusion, then realized Aziraphale had helped him lie down in a bed that definitely had not been this comfortable when Crowley took a nap in it three days ago. Aziraphale must have expected it to be more comfortable. “In fact, it’s been quite a hectic century, so much going on.”

“Boring sort of hectic,” Crowley said, unable to figure out how to describe it even to Aziraphale. Being drunk did not help with that, but even sober it was hard to put into words just how soul crushing—if he had a soul, couldn’t actually remember right now—the past several decades had been.

“Well, all right. If you say so,” Aziraphale said, sounding unconvinced but apparently unwilling to argue with him right now. Which said something about how damn horrible Crowley must look right now. Aziraphale was always willing to argue with him. It was one of their favorite activities.

Crowley laid there, the room spinning, and then looked down in confusion as plump fingers curled around his hand. “What’re you doing?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks went slightly pink. “Holding your hand.”

More confused, Crowley blinked. “Why?”

The shade of pink in Aziraphale’s cheeks darkened. “Ah. Well. Because.”

That was quite possibly the most unsatisfactory answer ever, and Crowley desperately wanted to shower him with questions. But right now, he was too tired and woozy and entirely too drunk even for much curiosity.

He was definitely less bored though, even with just lying here, holding Aziraphale’s hand. Still felt absolutely awful, mind. But being around Aziraphale always made him feel better, no matter the circumstances.

[nellasbookplanet]

This is so funny I was watching this video on the topic of reylo fanfic-turned-traditionally-published-novels (it's a good video, watch it for a frank yet non-judgemental take on the topic) and in curiosity dug out this fanlore list of fics-turned-novels and found multiple novels on it that I've read, enjoyed (one in the last couple of months!) and fully didn't catch the fanfic roots of.

Really highlights the silliness of people who proudly proclaim their unerring ability to pinpoint whether a story started out as fic or not (and then proceed to point out various books completely unrelated to fandom simply because the author has written fic before, such as the locked tomb series or red white and royal blue), or who loudly state the assumed poor quality of said books despite themselves having read non of them.

[thjslove]

good omens · 1x01 in the beginning We'd be godfathers, sort of, overseeing his upbringing. We do it right, he won't be evil. Or good. He'll just be normal. It might work. Godfathers.

[6h37]

feral

--|-|--

"Skip! Skip, listen to me! Think about what you're doing!"

The raptorial shriek he got in response was not the kid he knew.

Her deep brown irises were narrowed to animalistic slits, teeth bared as she tried to wrestle him out of the sky. She was looking for a meal, and she had found one.

"You're better than this, Skip, snap out of it!"

He couldn't take his eyes off hers; the silver accents of her uniform bottoms and the primal look in her eyes was harrowing. To become feral was like a disease, starting slow until it overtook your mind completely. He had seen many synths succumb; not even the highest-ranking Diamonds were immune to it.

But his kid...

They spiralled towards the dusty grassland below. Not sixteen hours ago they were skipping rocks, the pastime that had borne her name, and now she didn't know him.

She warned him, she warned him days ago, he knew it. He had joked and she did not laugh.

"Skip, please!"