#cryptid aziraphale

[aziraphales-library]

can u rec me any fics with aziraphale and/or crowley messing with humans? it could be pranks or stuff like that, but i like fics that write about when the people around them can feel there is something not quite human about them

You'll want to check out our #cryptid aziraphale, #cryptid crowley, and #outsider pov tags for loads more fics with this kind of theme. Here are some that may or may not have been recommended before...

The Resident Nudist of A.Z. Fell and Co. by WritesEveryBlueMoon (T)

PiperIsaNerd Ok I know we've all been distracted by Mr Fell's new nudist paramour but can we talk about the fact that Sunglasses literally got struck by lightning? brokenbibliophile I'm sorry, Mr Fell's what? - As the nude man who wandered through Soho becomes a viral sensation, rare book enthusiasts are fascinated by something far stranger: A.Z. Fell and Co.'s new assistant bookseller who is eager to actually sell books.

Big Spooky Fan by WorseOmens (NR)

A scout troop tells spooky stories around a campfire, and one ex-Londoner has an interesting tale to tell about Soho's most bizarre urban legend: AZ Fell and his antique bookshop. (Or: Aziraphale gets mistaken for a ghost)

Gift Horses by littlesystems (G)

"Mum?" "Yes dear?" "How long has Mr. Fell been coming to the bakery?"

The Sanctuary in Soho by herebewyverns (G)

Look, live in London for long enough, and nothing will faze you. It’s not that you don’t notice, of course you notice, if you went around blatantly ignoring things like this, you’d be dead and thus no longer living in London. You just… you just learn to absorb things like this and move on.

On That Note by theinkwell33 (G)

In which Basil, who has sold theater tickets in London for many years, notes with increasing distress that a certain Mr. Fell has never stayed to the end of a performance of The Sound of Music. And his friend (or perhaps enemy?) Mr. Crowley, seems to be of no help whatsoever in this matter. Or rather, Aziraphale has a long history with evading The Sound of Music, and someone decides it's about time he saw the whole thing.

Soho's Very Own Patron Saint *Cough* Cryptid *Cough* by Watermelonsmellinfellon (M)

Honey and her wife Lemon had become a part of the queer culture of Soho, and in doing so, had become part of the best - or worst, it really depends on who's asking - hidden secret ever. Soho had its very own queer cryptid! A Mr. Ezra Fell who had a spouse just as mysterious as he was, and who had been around for a very long time, inspiring the queer youth just by being himself. Honey has made the choice to digitally record this discovery for future queer people to find comfort in, because it is a story that should be shared, but only with those who will respect it.

- Mod D

[extraaa-30]

whickber street: whoa, mr. brown finally got our local fae to host the shopkeepers meeting? wonder what that'll be like

whickber street: okay so we won't be doing that again

[yourangle-yuordevil]

Crowley bby you did your best and you deserves a gold "you tried" star but a group of two is NOT a clear definition AT ALL

[cuubism]

I have been absolutely loving Bookstore Cryptid Dream! Offline life got rough for a bit there, but this little universe never failed to make my heart happy. Thank you - and I hope you're planning on more!

i've indeed had one in my drafts so i finished it up for you :)

--

Hob has been waiting with equal parts anticipation and trepidation to find out exactly what ideas Dream will pull from his romance novels. He still hasn't figured out why he picked romance novels as his manuals. Maybe he needs his sex positions to have narratives. Maybe he's into roleplay. God.

But Hob doesn't get to find out.

He's been busy for a few days--new term at the local uni starting up means the cafe's suddenly gotten busier--and while Dream's popped in and out a few times, they haven't had the chance to spend much time together. It's probably good, Hob tries to convince himself. Puts the brakes on things, just a little.

But when he finally gets a break, hands the reins over to his staff for an evening, he heads to The Library. Even if Dream is busy with his own tasks, Hob's content to just sit in his space. Listen to his stories. It's not something the busy cafe environment usually allows, but The Library is like an alternate world, cool, quiet, and timeless.

Hob strides up the steps and opens The Library door.

And there's nothing inside.

It takes several moments for his tired brain to comprehend what he's looking at, and several more for him to decide that no, he's not dreaming. He steps through the doorway into a dim, empty room, old wood-paneled walls and dust gathering in the corners, and no infinite winding paths of shelves like in Dream's bookshop. Just a shell.

Hob presses his palm to the wall. It's cool, and smooth, and very much real. Not some mad hallucination of his, this empty room.

Blinking hard, Hob steps back outside, closes the door again, as if that might change things. Opens it again. Same room. Does it again. Same room. He calls out into the empty bowels of the once-Library: "Dream!"

No answer, of course.

Hob had known that The Library had a sort of magic to it. But just vanishing into thin air...

And Dream wouldn't...

...would he?

Hob spins in place on the stoop, looking out on the darkened street which suddenly feels so much more eerie. He steps down to the road in a daze, looking around as if The Library might suddenly appear in another doorway. Resists the urge to yell Dream's name into the darkness.

And then, well, fuck it. "Dream!" he calls. All that echoes back to him is his own voice.

Hob sits down on the stoop, defeated. If he hadn't seen Dream just yesterday, kissed him on his way out of the cafe not twenty-four hours ago, he really might have started to think he'd hallucinated all of this. Invented someone he'd wanted to know.

But he didn't invent Dream, he swears he didn't--so then where is he?

Hob doesn't sleep much that night. He doesn't do much of anything else, either--it's not like Dream left a note to track him down, or any evidence of his existence. It's not like Hob can put up missing person posters: have you seen this bookshop? Or force it to reappear.

He's having a very sleep-deprived, very over-caffeinated morning shift in the cafe, contemplating how long one's not-quite-human not-quite-boyfriend needs to be not-quite-missing before it's reasonable to start finding out which parts of London harbor demons and sorcerers--when a man he's never seen before stops at the counter, hands folded before him, and says, "Excuse me, but do you know if there's a bookshop around here?"

Hob has never seen anyone else ever go into The Library or even acknowledge its existence, and Hob's anxiety is so high that he almost leaps over the counter to grab this man by the collar and demand, what do you know about Dream?! Fortunately he belays that impulse. This stranger really does look almost laughably harmless and definitely not like a demon or sorcerer, not that Hob's seen one--and getting arrested for assault is not going to help anything.

"I tried the door," continues the stranger, as Hob just keeps staring at him, conflicted, "only, well. It seems to have vanished."

Well, at least Hob's not hallucinating. Not that a disappearing bookstore is helpful to his sanity.

After what was surely a conspicuously long silence, though his visitor just waits patiently, Hob says, "Have... you been there before?" He feels weirdly defensive of The Library, even if it's currently AWOL. He doesn't know if he wants random people to be able to find Dream.

Or maybe that's just jealousy.

"Oh, no, this is my first time coming this way," says the man, apologetically. "I'm just looking for a certain book."

Damn odd timing for it.

Hob comes out from behind the counter and waves him over to a table. He should probably get some tea. Proper hospitality and all. But he's too worked up and way too sleep-deprived.

His guest sits down primly at the table as Hob slouches against the back of his own seat. "Sorry," Hob finally says, "if I'm--" he waves a vague hand. "Dream's had trouble before, that's all." He holds out his hand to his guest. "Hob."

The man shakes his hand. "Hm. A pleasure. I am Aziraphale. To any associate of--" he tastes the name, "Dream's, that is."

It's interesting that The Library's reputation carries further than knowledge of Dream himself, despite how deeply Dream seems to be tied to the shop.

"Is it meant to be there, then?" asks Aziraphale hopefully. "I wouldn't blame him for moving around to protect the collection; I certainly wouldn't want all and sundry picking through the shelves!" He shudders. "Though I was hoping to find that book."

Hob doesn't bother asking what book. Whatever it is, Dream will certainly have it. What's more important is--

"'Moving around?' Do you know how?" And then, realizing if he wants a chance at info he's going to need to offer some of his own, adds, "You just missed him, it's only today that The Library's been... gone."

"Oh, dear," says Aziraphale, now looking troubled.

"Not sure what pointed you towards this place, but if you've heard anything..." Hob continues, "Dream is my--" what is Dream, anyway? They haven't established it, "...friend."

Looking contemplative, Aziraphale says, "Well it is odd timing, now that you mention it, because--"

That's when the door to The Library flies open.

A lanky man comes hurtling down the steps, limbs akimbo, yelling something over his shoulder that Hob can't hear from within the cafe. "Oh dear," says Aziraphale again, with a mix of concern and consternation. "Crowley!"

Dream storms out of the doorway next, expression thunderous, his hair sticking up in all directions like he'd been struck by lightning. That has Hob lurching to his feet, which Aziraphale does as well, and they both rush outside, just in time to hear--

"Look, it's just one silly book, okay?" The unfamiliar man--Crowley, presumably--says, stopping in the middle of the road and turning towards Dream. "Don't overreact."

Dream is, in fact, clutching a singular heavy book, and looks like he's just about to hurl it, except that Dream would never do something so undignified as that, Hob thinks.

Dream hurls the book at Crowley.

Or not.

Crowley catches it against his chest, stumbling back with the weight. "I do not accept," spits Dream, each word the strike of a nail, "surreptitious rummaging in my library."

"Oh come on," says Crowley, tossing the book to Aziraphale, who's just caught up to him and who catches it with a surprised little umph! sound. Crowley makes a shooing sort of go on, run gesture to Aziraphale, which he doesn't heed. "It's not like I was going to burn the place down. You're just prejudiced against demons."

"I am prejudiced against thieves," hisses Dream. Hob finally reaches his side before he can throw another book or something, lays a hand on Dream's arm. Though all he's really thinking is, demons?!

"Crowley," Aziraphale admonishes. "Please tell me you did not." He finally looks at the cover of the book, and gasps. "Crowley."

Crowley shrugs. "You wanted it, he had it."

Hob frowns, confused. "You don't need to steal from The Library. It's not a museum. Just go in and buy it." Not that Hob's ever actually paid for any of Dream's books.

Both Crowley and Aziraphale turn to him. "One could not simply give away such an artifact," says Aziraphale, caressing the book's leatherbound cover.

"Least not for a steep price," says Crowley, which evidently justifies his trying to swipe it. "I won't be beholden to the likes of you." He points at Dream.

Dream looks affronted. "Now who is prejudiced?"

"Let's back up," Hob says, unsure how he became the voice of reason here. He still has a hand wrapped around Dream's arm, it's grounding after the way Dream had just vanished on him. "What happened? Dream-- I tried to come over and you were just gone." The empty room past The Library doorway is going to continue to be nightmare fuel.

Dream makes an apologetic little sound. "I apologize. I closed all access to The Library for its protection. As it turned out, my assessment of the threat was overstated." He glares at Crowley and adds, darkly, "I thought you were from the school board. Breaking in in the dead of night like so."

Hob momentarily gets stuck on the fact that Dream considers the local school board a greater threat than an actual demon from hell.

"Which," Dream continues, "was utterly unnecessary. You could have simply come to The Library as a visitor and sought out what you were looking for. It would have been granted."

"Oh, so I was just supposed to know you actually sell your books?"

"The books will find their rightful recipients," Dream says stiffly.

"Crowley, you have been very rude," says Aziraphale, though he hasn't given up the book, "I think you should apologize."

"Eh," says Crowley, waving this off. Hob supposes it wouldn't really be given to demons to apologize for things. "You apologize if you really want to."

Aziraphale turns to Dream with a sigh. "I am sorry for my companion's behavior. And... grateful for the book."

Dream nods solemnly at him. It seems his ire does not extend to Aziraphale.

Crowley leans back on his heels, closer to Aziraphale. "Mayyybee we should go now."

Aziraphale nods. "Quite." He tips his head at Dream, and then at Hob. "Thank you for your hospitality, Hob."

Then he turns and hurries away, Crowley slinking along beside him. As they leave, Hob hears Aziraphale admonish, "Do you know how few booksellers there are with truly rare volumes? We cannot afford to make such enemies."

"Yeah, you're welcome, angel."

"...Thank you."

Hob shakes his head in bemusement and turns back to Dream. He takes both of Dream's arms in his hands now, holding onto him, looking him over. Unable to fully vanish the lingering panic of The Library just being gone. "Are you alright? I was... worried. When you disappeared."

"I am annoyed," Dream huffs, like it's a greater point of suffering than any actual injury. Then he leans in close to Hob, pressing a hand to his chest. "I apologize. I did not intend to cause you distress. I had to shut the doors rather quickly, but I hoped to resolve the issue before you had cause to visit The Library."

"It's alright, love. I'm just glad you're okay." He kisses Dream, tentative for how new this all still is. Tastes lightning on his lips. Dream hums with pleasure.

When they pull apart, Hob wraps an arm around Dream's back, starts leading him back towards the cafe, or perhaps just to Hob's flat above. Tea solves everything. "So. The school board, eh?"

Dream sighs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. "They are enthusiastic about banning books."

Hob pulls him against his side, kisses his temple. "Dream against the world."

Dream grumbles, but leans his head on Hob's shoulder, and despite the many strange things of today Hob is going to have to internalize, he feels all soft inside at the gesture.

"Don't worry," he says, "next time your many enemies come calling, just yell and I'll create a diversion."

"And be waiting with tea after I've dealt with them?"

"Got it in one."

As they reach the door to the cafe, Dream turns his head to kiss Hob's shoulder. "You are good to me, Hob Gadling."

And Hob will keep being so. Even when the next strange thing happens.

[embervoices]

With gratitude to @cuubism for letting me borrow Bookstore Cryptid Dream's Library.

The phone rang.

Once he had determined that it was possible to have a phone only ring at certain times, or for certain people, Aziraphale had seriously considered disconnecting the landline for his bookshop in favor of having the number forwarded automatically to the device Crowley had acquired for him.

This sufficiently worried his vintage phone that it promptly began call filtering for him to prove to the angel its continued worth. Aziraphale hadn't so much noticed, as determined that the landline wasn't really enough of a bother to be worth altering.

Thus, when the landline rang well after the bookshop's (admittedly dubious) business hours when Crowley was already sitting across from him in the back room, Aziraphale nevertheless did not hesitate to answer.

"Aziraphale, I need your help!" Anathema explained in a very slightly (read: incredibly) distressed tone.

"Whatever is the matter?"

"I lost the book."

Aziraphale blinked. Anathema's hands weren't exactly audibly flapping, but Aziraphale had no trouble picturing them nevertheless.

"Well, not lost, exactly. I… burnt it."

"You what!?"

"I burnt it!"

Aziraphale's eyebrows furrowed. "I thought it was already burnt in the fire-that-wasn't? I still have the little slip of loose paper from the final prophecy here in my desk."

"Oh! No, not that one. That one is fine. Yes, singed still, that's true, but I have all the index cards so it's ok." She kindly didn't mention that she'd noticed the missing prophecy. She was a touch relieved to know whose hands it had ended up in. "No, what I mean is, the next day a whole second book arrived, and Newt helped me decide I didn't want to be a professional descendant for the rest of my life. So I burnt it!"

"Oh dear."

"YES 'Oh Dear'! Now everything has gone strange again and I don't have the book!"

Aziraphale nodded to himself, peeking out the windows into Soho. "Things have gone rather strange, haven't they?"

Crowley snorted in the background. Aziraphale waved him away with a hand.

"Hmm. I may know a solution. How soon can you get to my bookshop, Anathema?"

She hummed. "Well, I suppose Newt could drive me. So, what, an hour?"

"That will do nicely. He always did keep late hours."

"Who, Newt?"

"An old friend, of a sort. Or a rival."

"Crowley?"

Aziraphale laughed. "Of course not! Well, perhaps he is a bit like Crowley in some ways, come to think of it, but not in any personal sense, anyway. This is more of a professional rivalry. You'll see."

"Okay, we'll be there soon."

Aziraphale hung up the phone, and turned to his beloved demon.

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

"You're taking her to the Library? At this hour?"

"It's not as if his hours are any more coherent than mine."

Crowley snorted, nodding. "So what's she looking for? An impossible grimoire? You know he won't give those out to just anybody."

"And nor should he, considering what happened last time one of them got out!"

"Right. So you're introducing the known, actually-rather-talented hereditary witch to the Library because…?"

"Oh come now, you know she can be trusted. Besides, this is more a matter of family business."

"Whose family?"

"Hers."

Crowley grinned. "Oh, this should be interesting."

Aziraphale gave him a mischievous smirk. "Indeed!"

[whowouldwininafite]

[doerrferr]

good omens season three but the second coming is the lords in black

[rosyopal-eva]

🌷🌟🪻 BIG ETSY SHOP RESTOCK 🌹💫💐

🔗 link to shop: https://rosyopalart.etsy.com

[lijzeil]

Yes, he doesn't know that plesiosaurs don't drown

[rollforjackass]

did you ever write anything for the good omens cryptid hunting au ?? Im a little obsessed with the concept of a human Aziraphale having a scam name lol

hahaha it's still one of my favorite concepts honestly.

i wrote up a few bits and pieces of it with a friend of mine, but never a full fic!! i think we were considering that crowley was a cryptid (being the snake and all) and aziraphale — who became a(n) cryptid hunter unexplained phenomena researcher in part to prove to his mother that there's plenty of fascinating things down here on earth for free — ran into him quite by accident (crowley lives in a secret garden shielded from the outside world, appropriately named eden, but aziraphale can see right through the shielding) and decided to stay to keep the lonely old snake company.

i do still have the initial paragraph i wrote for it, actually!!

Aziraphale Heart — named after an angel his mother read about in a deeply incorrect pamphlet that advertised a direct line to several high tiers of Heaven for a monthly payment of 9.99, and who has stubbornly refused the use of any and all nicknames that have been proposed since — has been looking for a garden for almost a decade. He never expected to actually find it. He certainly never expected to find it occupied.

[toastedjeans]

It is officially Real Cryptid Hours™

Aka just a small collection of my cryptid au characters from various fandoms :)

First, the one that started it all, Cryptid Omens (originally made 2-3 years ago)

Sketches: old, colors: new

I love them. Aziraphale's design improved quite a bit.

.

Then, my absolutely beloveds, SCC cryptids (+ Spamton cause he's such a creature)

Two above: older, two below: most recent

Only found sketches for Spam. Smh my head can't believe i haven't drawn him properly even once before now

.

And lastly, my most recent addition, Cryptid Narrator

Left: first concept, right: most recent

Why does he look less and less like a creature every time i draw him? Idk, maybe Stanley's domesticating him

.

And now i need to draw them all hanging out

[quoththemaiden]

#no hope of getting his attention he is gone he is in ox rib land.

Crowley left halfway through Aziraphale staring at the Book of Job bc he probably made the mistake of trying to get his attention while Aziraphale was still as a fucking statue blind and deaf to the world re-living the experience of eating that entire ox bite by glorious bite for like a full 30 minutes. Crowley's like "if you're still busy re-reading that Im going to go take a nap. Can you hear me. Hello." and all Aziraphale hears is "go on, have an ox rib" on loop

[cuubism]

I am IN LOVE with Dream and his freaky little bookshop. Mostly bc I would basically move in if it was real, all it's missing is a cat to chill in the window and I'm in heavennnn

Speaking of heaven, how do you think Dream gets on with Aziraphale from GO? Are they besties? Are they (im)mortal enemies bc both of them are battling it out for the rarest books on the planet (and Dream is obviously winning)? They're both my favourite characters ever so if you're into Good Omens at all I'd love to hear your take on it. Personally I think Dream doesn't care bc he wins anyways (except for the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch, I bet holds a grudge about that) meanwhile Aziraphale LOATHS him for taking his books and then, God forbid, SELLING them!!! To the general public!!! Imagine!! And that's how Hob and Dream walk in on Crowley "robbing" The Library on Aziraphale's behalf but he honestly doesn't know what he's looking for and in the end just buys whatever book it is with Dreams help. Sorry for the bit of the ramble but yeah!!! I love your stuff!!

I think your take is probably right that they have a somewhat contentious relationship but only from Aziraphale's end 😂 he's torn between being lowkey obsessed with Dream and wanting to be his friend and HATING him, because first of all A Kindred Spirit the likes of which he's never met, but on the other hand he just gives books away! Just hands them out to any old person! Even more sacrilegious, Dream is delighted when a book comes back with annotations because it's a sign of a story well enjoyed and it adds to the history of that particular copy. Aziraphale is going to faint.

Nevertheless they are hanging out and talking about books quite a lot. Dream will just give Aziraphale any book he wants and Aziraphale still doesn't understand it for the life of him. It haunts him but he still accepts the books.

I feel like Crowley WOULD rob the shop before Dream and Aziraphale properly know each other. Just wants to take some rare book Aziraphale is looking for, not realizing Dream would just give it to him because his whole ~thing~ is uniting people with the books that they need. Dream and Crowley run into each other when Crowley's robbing him and before Dream can even say that he can just borrow whatever he wants Crowley is flinging a dictionary at his head and fleeing the scene. Then Aziraphale makes him go back the next day and apologize because listen we can't afford to make an enemy of this guy who has all the rare books in the city!! Honestly!!

Dream's only reaction was like "yup, normal risks of being a bookstore owner. I face physical violence on the daily." If Hob was there he would not have found it funny though 😂 he might have been /prepared/ with an atlas in Dream's defense. A fistfight might have ensued. Learning that Crowley was a demon would not have put Hob off from the fight in the slightest. While they're hitting each other, Dream and Aziraphale are having tea.

[idanit]

Aziraphale's fashion choices have always been a bit outdated, so Crowley is left reeling when he shows up to their date in something entirely new and different. Or: Aziraphale wears a skirt. Crowley copes.

— "could this be how every day begins?" by theineffableprofessor

A piece I made for @do-it-with-style-events's reverse minibang in collaboration with the lovely @cryptic-queer-cryptid! I took an old sketch I had lying around, and they transformed it into a cozy autumny story full of feelings — check it out on AO3 for the full experience.

[danfrik]

CAN I GET A WA-HOO??

I'm bacK, yes, you can all see that.

I finally finished this silly little drawing of mine and god I love it, and yes I'm going to make more drawings of them 'cause I have no self-control, also

HELLO, LGBTQ+ COMMUNITY

⚠️Spoilers ahead for both series⚠️

So... about those takes that I have about this two (and a few others that I plan on drawing, don't worry, we'll get there), well, you can see that Phoenix is Crowley while Miles is Aziraphale...

It makes sense, I swear-

At first I was thinking of them but reverse (Phoenix as Aziraphale and Miles as Crowley) because, ngl they could fit either role anyway.

But character-wise? I think this is the best, mostly because of interactions the four of them had on their respective series.

To give an example, this dialogue in Ace Attorney:

It feels strangely similar to Aziraphale's "hereditary enemies" dialogue in the first season.

I might need to write some things down or else I will forget, fuck- (I'm writing this without any plan, help)

But hear me out, I'm not crazy-

Just take a look at Aziraphale's and Miles' fashion sense, that old-timey style they both have (and it's even more obvious with Miles' debut suit), that stubborn personality and undying faith about their side (Prosecutor's Office and heaven), etc.

While Phoenix's and Crowley's personality are more care-free, going their own way, their own side, bluffing away their problems and always chasing or following their "best friend" anywhere.

Phoenix getting a law degree just so he can reach Miles and save him, Crowley always being there for Aziraphale when needed and saving him...

Do you see where I'm getting at?

Also, you remember that scene with the bookshop being on fire and Crowley thinking that Aziraphale was dead?

..."Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death."

Yeah... the only difference is that Aziraphale didn't dissapear for a whole year and much less left a cryptid ass note behind and it wasn't really his fault-

But the feeling is quite similar, isn't it?

Now, after all the sad or complex feelings aside, let's see more happy things that I noticed:

Crowley's fondness of children / Phoenix's habit of adopting kids anywhere he goes.

Aziraphale liking yellow because it reminds him of Crowley's eyes / Miles finding a particular shade of blue relaxing once in a while.

Crowley's tendency of following Aziraphale like a dog following its owner / Phoenix's constant chasing after Miles (and also having a dog-like personality.)

Aziraphale not admitting that Crowley is his friend (or that he likes his company) / Miles also not admitting Phoenix is his friend (or that he likes his company.)

Yeah... the pattern is getting more obvious the more you look at it...

But I guess this is enough for one post, if you read it all the way, thank you for indulging my delusional brain!

Any comments, requests or... anything, really, will be much appreciated :DD

(If there are some errors, mispellings or anything of the sort, feel free to correct me because even though I've been learning english since I was like five years old, still isn't my first language so yeah👍)

[tonydaddingham]

100% agreed, plus these humbly offered additions:

My absolute favorite pictures of Aziraphale; imo the most beautiful pics <3