#fanart inspired fic

[createserenity]

Ficlet - A Time of Wanting

I've had some writer's block recently and have been making super slow progress with my wips. Then I saw these lovely kiss drawings by @mrghostrat and ended up being very inspired and writing not one but two new stories. The other is below if you're interested:

Thank you so much Bilvy for making such lovely artwork! (Also their Good Omens AUs are incredible, if you haven't read them I highly recommend them!) This is a ficlet inspired by the fifth kiss in the collage (this one). It's basically Crowley being silly and soft. (Set post an imaginary season 3 where they've saved the world and are talking again.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here on AO3 - or below

A Time of Wanting

Crowley wants.

He wants so badly and he's wanted for so long that it's a physical ache in his chest now.

He wonders how he's not broken in half with the sheer force of his wanting. He wonders how Aziraphale doesn't notice how much he wants. Surely it should be a tangible thing now, this longing that pulses through him every moment of his existence. This urge to reach out, to touch, to take.

But it seems it isn't, because Aziraphale is busy reshelving books, apparently oblivious to the demon sprawled out over the couch. He hasn't even noticed that Crowley has woken from the nap he was taking, hasn't noticed that Crowley feels as if he could shake apart with the sheer force of his emotions.

How has he survived this long without taking this silly fussy angel for his own? How has he survived without knowing his touch, his taste, the way the angel might look at him if he finally dared to do what he longed to do?

His sleep addled brain tries to imagine what those things would be like, it's nothing he hasn't imagined a million times before, again and again over thousands of years. This time though the images his mind conjures are so affecting, so very real, that they draw a whimper from Crowley's throat before he can stifle it, before he can push it down where it belongs so that he can get through another day of wanting.

Aziraphale obviously hears the noise because he turns, despite being atop the small chair ladder he uses to reach the high shelves, balancing precariously with one hand on the shelf as he looks over at Crowley and gives him a soft smile.

It's that smile that does it.

All at once Crowley's entire brain comes back online and suddenly what he thought were his own wild imaginings coalesce into memories. Actual memories. And he realises that he doesn't need to lie here and want without taking anymore. And that ache in his chest isn't his heart about to break apart, but merely where he's fallen asleep with his mobile phone jammed against his ribs.

Fuck he's an idiot.

He flails madly for a moment whilst his brain remembers how to control overly long limbs, and barely hears the clatter as the phone falls to the floor unheeded, but then he's on his feet, bounding across the bookshop.

“Angel.” The word falls from his lips almost reverently as he crosses the space and Aziraphale seems to recognise that there's something amiss, even if he probably doesn't realise just how stupid Crowley can be sometimes.

How could he have forgotten? Six thousand years of longing, and now he can have whenever he wants and his stupid brain can't seem to hold onto that fact.

By the time Crowley has closed the distance between them Aziraphale is on the lowest step of the chair ladder. Crowley slips his arms around his angel's waist, fully intending to bury his head in the softness of Aziraphale's shoulder but instead the movement is arrested by Aziraphale's hands. They come up to rest either side of his jaw, holding him gently, yet firmly in place.

“Crowley. Darling,” says Aziraphale, his tone impossibly fond and yet with that underlying hint of strength, as he searches Crowley’s face with eyes that don't even bother trying to hide their adoration.

And now there is an ache inside Crowley’s chest that's nothing to do with sleeping awkwardly smushed against his phone. This ache is his heart trying to contain too many feelings, too much love. It feels like it's bursting with it.

“Angel.” He breathes out the word softly, as if saying it again might somehow help.

Aziraphale smiles and pulls him closer, one hand slipping from his jaw to wrap around his head, whilst the fingers of the other hand press lightly, tilting his face upwards with a gentle insistence that thrills Crowley to his core. 

“You silly thing,” Aziraphale says, as if he knows exactly how daft Crowley was being a minute ago. Crowley thinks he should probably object to that. Snap back a sarcastic comment to the patronising bastard of an angel that knows him far too well, that sees the vulnerability under his carefully crafted exterior.

But then Aziraphale’s lips are on his and all protests fizzle away before they've even made it to his throat.

This is what he has wanted for so long. This is his now. He can ask for this whenever he wants. 

He shuffles forward, tightening his arms to mould their bodies closer together, mindful not to pull Aziraphale from his precarious perch. The kiss deepens just slightly and he feels Aziraphale's fingers dancing over his cheek as the angel tightens his hold on Crowley’s head.

There's a soft whimper and then an equally soft moan and Crowley is surprised to realise he isn't responsible for either noise. For a second he flutters his eyes open and focuses on the expression that’s crept across Aziraphale's features. It's open and vulnerable, filled with adoration and love and contentment, as if this is the one thing Aziraphale has always longed for and wants to keep forever.

The realisation, that this means as much to Aziraphale as it does to him, makes Crowley’s heart swell with emotion, even as the ache in his chest is dispelled, dissolving away into a warm fuzziness that seems to wrap around them both. 

He lets his eyes drop closed again and leans a little more into the kiss. There’s a hum of contentment and this time he knows it's come from him.

He wanted for so long and now finally he’s exactly where he wants to be.

[minnophee-draws]

Making a multi-part fic about Johnny, based on this drawing I did of him, and decided to attempt a more gender-neutral reader insert. You can also read it if you'd like, I've already posted the first chapter here and on AO3.

My AO3 username is Minnophee_Writes ^^

First chapter has been posted <3

[mossy-box]

I wish gay people were real

[reginalusus]

Ok. *Puts them in a corny, 90s anime romance scene in which Bruce helps Harvey come down from a rough dissociation/derealization episode by using sensory grounding.*

[vavoom-sorted-art]

puttin' on the ritz III

The third installment of J.C. Leyendecker inspired art for @moonyinpisces' amazing 1920's fic puttin' on the ritz.

I hope you guys enjoyed my delve into the Roarin' 20's as much as I did!

Here's links to the other two:

Outfit Designs | Opulent Pillar

[paintedcrows]

Some Fords! (and Martin K Blackwood is also there)

[b1ttersweet-dreams]

Is entropy so terrible now that order never existed? And isn't that realization even more terrifying?

lazy art for my equally shitty mirage fic that i never posted

[rynli]

shut up we’re so fuckin hetero-sexual

[anniilaugh]

”There was cute, like Carrot or Chopper, and then there was cute like a certified killing machine snuggling three babies at once.

Sanji had never in his life wished so hard for a snail, he needed a picture of this more than he had ever needed a picture of anything before. ”

Me: ME! I’LL BE THE SNAIL FOR YOU!🐌✏️📸

Fanart of Thirty Thousand (& Three) Nautical Miles by @brunetta6blog & Springtime4Persephone 💚

[wykonii]

Bracelet making class

[oyabun-draws]

loosely inspired by @emungere 's universe of consenting to dream

[createserenity]

A Day for Magic - fanfiction

This is the first story I wrote inspired by @mrghostrat's collage of kisses. It's based on the first kiss in the set, which I don't think was drawn with the intention of it being on a bench, but it happens on a bench in this fic anyway.

Thank you so much Bilvy for making such lovely artwork that did away with my writers block. Maybe I'll actually be able to make some proper progress with my wips now, at least if I'm not distracted by the ficlet idea I have for the fourth kiss (hello ADHD hyperfixation taking over my brain). Like the other fic, which you can find here, this is set post an imaginary season 3 where they've saved the world and are talking again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Day for Magic

Read on AO3 here (preview below)

It’s a beautiful early autumn day, the warm afternoon sun slants through the trees, sending golden motes of light dancing across the lake as Aziraphale sits on the park bench and contemplates the scene around them.

Just up the pathway he can see the little ice cream cart is making good money from the passing foot traffic, the vendor taking advantage of the unseasonably warm autumn day before the winter sets in and nobody wants ice cream anymore.

Over near the lake crowd of ducks harass the Bulgarian culture attaché over the contents of the plastic bag clutched in his hands. Aziraphale can tell even from here that the bag contains frozen peas, or at least previously-frozen-and-hopefully-now-defrosted peas, and he feels his lips twitch up into a smile. Crowley will be pleased.

He glances over at the former demon sprawling out next to him on the bench, skating his eyes briefly over the sharp lines of his form fitting jacket, up the long neck, partly hidden by the red hair that Crowley has grown out again. He’s got half of it pulled back off his face today and Aziraphale thinks the look rather suits him, not to mention it has the advantage of being an exceptionally convenient length for Aziraphale to run his fingers through when the mood takes him.

They’ve sat like this in this park so many times before, but things are different now. Aziraphale sits closer, no longer confined to his side of the bench, and Crowley has one knee pressed against Aziraphale’s thigh, warm and solid. His arm is draped over the back of the bench and Aziraphale can feel the fingers of Crowley’s hand curled up against his back. The touch is nice – comforting without being intrusive.

Crowley isn’t paying attention to him; he’s gazing across the path and when he gives a sudden smirk Aziraphale turns his head to try and work out what he’s looking at. It’s certainly not the ducks.

He’s just in time to see a man in a sharp looking business suit rising to his feet, glancing around in a way that suggests embarrassment. Had he fallen over? It didn’t look as if he had and surely Aziraphale would have noticed if there had been a commotion.

His eyes drift down to the path itself and he sees something round and shiny, glinting in the soft autumn light.

“Really, my dear,” he murmurs, glancing over at Crowley again.

“What?” Crowley shoots him a grin. They both know he’s feigning the ignorance so Aziraphale just shakes his head and lets the corner of his mouth quirk up into a slight smile. He’s aiming for something that says, “I can’t believe you’re doing this, you incorrigible fiend,” but suspects the expression has taken a detour towards fond somewhere along the way.

Continue on AO3 here

[rubyfunkey]

tweaking my lamb design + some stuff straight out of @bamsara 's TROD AU

[infizero-draws]

got pissed about not having early access to shadow gens so i drew tgirl shadow to cope

[weevilfan2006]

Now I Wanna Be Your Dog

[vavoom-sorted-art]

puttin‘ on the ritz

From the fic puttin‘ on the ritz by @moonyinpisces. Seriously its a crime I didn‘t make art for it sooner give I’ve loved it forever. (Or maybe not because now my art skills are better :P)

Done during the real, real love discord paint‘n‘sip event where all artists drew the same reference.