#gahellhimself-blog

[kai-ni]

THEY'RE HEREEE thank you so much @gahellhimself-blog ! Beautiful work, I'm so honored to have these unique pieces ❤️ and the sketch of Crowley is so beautiful as well 😭

[ihasafandom]

;-;

I finally finised!!!!

I let u enjoy it and hope u like it.

Not a ring..

[vavoom-sorted-art]

Okay so

we're having an angst war over on @goodomensafterdark and @gleafer, @gahellhimself-blog and I are having a competition who can spread the most pain and suffering. Here's my contribution. Enjoy

don't worry, this isn't the end yet: here's part two. | Part 3

[emihotaru]

A little tribute of @gahellhimself-blog GO punkCrowley/professorFell AU! I love his comic, and I wanted to draw a tender moment between the two of them^^ I tried to stay a little rought with this one, since I can't do to watery watercolor on this paper, and I think this sketchbook will be quite entirely in this style^^

[angie-words]

Like many of you, I'm still processing the news about Season 3, but focusing on the positives:

- Gaiman is gone

- you can tell a lot of story in 90 minutes

- we're going to see Michael "acting choices" Sheen and David "delighted golden retriever energy" Tennant being Aziraphale & Crowley one more time

- we're getting an ending (and hopefully the cottage)

Yesterday's news was tempered slightly for me as I was able to take part in @gahellhimself-blog's art treasure hunt again and found the most stunning necklace and a Crowley sketch by him in St James's Park. I was also lucky enough to have a quick chat with Gahell by The Bench - he's delightful and very kind. It certainly helped me feel a lot better after the GO news that day 💜

Wishing you all out there in the fandom lots of virtual hugs. And remember: even if it's not the ending we wanted, we can create it ourselves in the beautiful fic and art and other fanworks this community is capable of 💜

last meme dump next meme dump

[daneecastle]

Angst War Page 8 and 9

@goodomensafterdark @vavoom-sorted-art @gahellhimself-blog @gleafer @kotias @lauramoon1987

A little fluff with the angst I did and plan on doing. I’m not done yet! There is more to come. Next week will be three pages. Good luuuuuck!

[bea-n-art]

Prof Fell in the morning!

What a wonderful colab with my dear friend @gahellhimself-blog who asked me if I wanted to colour his AU Prof Fell from the comic "Teach me" a story that I absolutely love.

Gael is one of my favourite artists and being asked to work with him was such a priveledge and pleasure!

❤️ 💙 💜 💖 💗 💘

Gael instagram: https://www.instagram.com/gaelhimself

My coffee tip jar: https://ko-fi.com/beanart

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/beatenossart/

Print shop: https://www.inprnt.com/gallery/beanart/

[llflorence]

Did you just - kiss me?

6k, Inspired by @gahellhimself-blog Ineffible Husbands art HERE. (So, so stunning)

They exited the shop as they had entered, hand in arm. Only this time Aziraphale snuggled in close. This time he held on with both hands. This time Crowley pressed warm lips to the top of his head. And this time, Aziraphale thrilled with the possibilities of it all.

AO3

[kaeraesketches]

✨ Proof that these dingalings will do/say pretty much anything for each other 😆.

.

✨ Welp…here’s my first-ever attempt at an *actual* comic page! IG crops the sh*t out of it, but thankfully it seems to do okay over here 😆. Inspired heavily by the GO shenanigans of @gleafer @gahellhimself-blog and @daneecastle . Figured I’d try my hand at it, hope y’all don’t mind! 😅

[lauramoon1987]

ANGST WAR PG 2 /PG3

Aziraphale in Da House

And eyes...a few eyes...😬

@vavoom-sorted-art @gleafer @gahellhimself-blog @goodomensafterdark @daneecastle

[goodomensafterdark]

so to recap on the r/GoodOmensAfterDark Angst War, we have

Crowley following Azi into hell and using occult holograms of his ass to lure away a hellhound

Crowley straight up getting stabbed

Crowley pulling out his feathers and preparing to save Azi

Inappropriately hot, chained-up Crowley who may or may not be hallucinating the cruelest Azi ever

You’re killing us, @gleafer, @gahellhimself-blog, @daneecastle, @vavoom-sorted-art

[nosferatini]

[🎙️Podfic] Geminids - A “Teach Me” Side Story

By @nosferatini

The lovely NooRose93 and incredibly talented @gahellhimself-blog allowed me to make a podfic of this beautiful story of brotherly love!

Listen to the Geminids Podfic! 🎧

Featuring little Nosling as the voice of baby Crowley 👶🏻

(Note: No babies went underfed or uncuddleld in the making of this podfic!)

Geminids is a side story for GaHell's wonderful "Teach Me" comic, written by NooRose93. Read Geminids - A Teach Me side story on AO3!

Please support GaHell on his Patreon and Instagram!

**Summary:**

Loki and Crowley are there for each other through thick and thin. This is a story of how they met and became brothers.

Special thanks to my beta listeners @kunigun and @outrageousring5655 ♥️ as well as the @goodomensafterdark and @whickberstreetwriters communities for all the love and support in making this podfic.

[gleafer]

Helu!

Can I ask your Crowley from the Teach Me AU how he keeps his mohawk stiff and buoyant while using a helmet??

- A punk who bikes everyday and miss his mohawk 😔

Hello! That’s not mine, that’s @gahellhimself-blog Mohawk Crowley! Mine doesn’t know how to ride a motorcycle and would probably not wear a helmet if he did, much to Aziraphale’s chagrin.

Aziraphale hands Crowley a yellow helmet with daisies painted on it: “I simply must insist!…or no nookie.”

Crowley IMMEDIATELY puts helmet on.

[vavoom-sorted-art]

The third installment of the angst war I‘m fighting over on @goodomensafterdark against @gleafer, @daneecastle and @gahellhimself-blog! I‘m running of ammo…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Next

[actual-changeling]

Uh. Hi! I'm Alex and I love writing pain.

I've seen the angst war going on and I am incredibly tempted to contribute; I'm not quite sure of the rules (if there are any) so feel free to bring me up to speed. Updates will be at whatever pace is fun/doable for me, interactions, asks etc. always very much appreciated 💚

@goodomensafterdark @daneecastle @gleafer @gahellhimself-blog @vavoom-sorted-art @kotias

I will put appropriate content tags on every chapter and make a masterpost once I have a handful of posts. Please keep in mind that this series is going to deal with a heavy dose of unreality, self-injurious behaviour, substance abuse, erratic behaviour/mood swings, and more. There will be a happy ending.

Now, without further ado, the first instalment of what is going to be us following Crowley down the path of (hopefully temporary) insanity.

rest your head \\ chapter 1

(~800 w, no additional warnings)

Sleep deprivation, while usually not fatal, is not the least bit pleasant. Human brains require sleep to function—and not just their minds, either. The entire body breaks down oh so slowly as every system designed to keep it alive deteriorates without the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.

However, the actual cause of death is yet to be identified, and luckily Crowley's corporation functions on the principle of 'what it doesn't know won't kill it'.

Over the centuries, earthly indulgences have become more and more common, pleasures easily sought and found no matter where he went, although nothing ever beat a good night's (or decade's) rest. Sleep calms his mind and allows him to drift through time without a care, surrounded by ever-shifting dream clouds and the occasional vivid interference. In short, it takes away the pain, and Someone knows there is a lot to carry when he returns home for the first time in four years.

No dust had dared to settle on the furniture, and the familiar smell of damp earth welcomes him. Locking the door behind him, Crowley blindly finds his way through the corridors, kicking off his shoes as he goes and throwing his glasses onto the nearest surface. When he pushes into his bedroom, which is just as pristine as he had left it, the anger churning in his gut cools.

Home. Has he ever had a home? Once upon a time, maybe, before time had been born, surrounded by breathing nebulae and void, and then—

Eden. Him. Right, that's done.

A snap of his fingers and his clothes change into a set of silk pyjamas, the fabric brushing over his skin like liquid silver, and the black-out curtains snap shut. Darkvision is one of the advantages of being a demon, but he finds the dark has nothing to offer him today, so he closes his eyes and pulls back the sheets to curl around a pillow.

Images flicker in the pulsating emptiness left behind, piercing blue eyes and fluttering hands, a press of lips against his, words digging into his skull like tadpoles making a home within his brain matter. Electricity crawls over his slowly numbing body, urging him to disappear, to sink into nothingness and waste away until he is a dried stain on the mattress. 

No one will come looking for him, after all.

Maybe the world will be brighter once he wakes, the pain duller, the loneliness less aching and all-consuming. Within his chest bleeds a hollow, jagged wound, dripping black blood and drowning the radiant remnants of Aziraphale's presence; his essence is familiar, it's- home. 

Crowley does not need to sleep, yet somewhere between Rome and the present, he had forgotten about it, his corporation shifting and changing, craving��rest and punishing him for its absence. It will not kill him, it does not even occur to him that it might, but there are countless fates worth than death and he is already living one of them. What's another added to the mess his life has become?

His nails dig into the pillow case, his consciousness choking on the scorched battlefield of the day, but no matter how hard he tries, how desperately he commands his body to bend to his wills, sleep refuses to come. A new, different kind of pain rises, worse than fatigue and infinitely more addictive. Its sting is battery acid on his tongue, infusing him with a restlessness that is scratching on his bones, and when blue irises keep mocking him behind closed lids, he forces his eyes open, turns onto his back, and stares at the ceiling, waiting.

Light wanders and shifts, barely visible through the heavy fabric adorning his windows, and it dips behind the horizon before reappearing on the other side. Crowley stares at white paint and counts the moving dots gradually clouding his vision, absently pressing his knuckles against his sternum over and over—whether to calm himself or to chase away mental pain with physical is beyond his awareness. 

Both, neither, maybe. 

His too-human body protests and whines, and once he begins to see blue shadows in his periphery, Crowley bites his tongue and gets up. Coffee will help, then a hot shower, and yelling his plants back into order is going to occupy most of his afternoon anyway, so what's a night without sleep?

The next one will bring him the rest he needs, and Aziraphale's eyes will stop striking him down whenever he blinks. He is alone now (alone in London, alone on earth, his chest constricts and twists at the thought, stealing his breath) and he will have to get used to it; it'll be fine eventually, right?

—

Three days later Crowley is staring at his bedroom ceiling, impatient, restless, exhausted, and attempting to chase away the bone-white teeth hovering underneath lightning-blue eyes.

"Fine, have it your way," he snaps eventually, his voice too loud in an empty room, and feels the smile breathing down his neck all the way to the kitchen.

[kotias]

An Arrangement in Black (part 1) - angst war contribution

@goodomensafterdark @daneecastle @gleafer @gahellhimself-blog @vavoom-sorted-art

I'm ENTERING THE DANCE

Part 2 - End

Word count: 145 words

Dum.

Thus went the bells of the church in the dead of night, announcing the passing to a new day.

Dum. 

Thus went the path of the demon Crowley, damning the gardens under the holy establishment.

Dum.

Thus went the dark smoke following him from over the moors.

Dum.

Breathing a gas that meant death, the colony of rats trailed his path, critters travelling in a single motion.

Dum.

His plague mask on and hiding under a long, black cloak, he felt like the personification of Death themselves.

Dum.

Patient Zero.

Dum.

Infested house.

Dum.

Coughing. Shivering. Heart burns. Bleeding. Suffocating.

Dum.

The stench of rotting bodies taking the entire village.

Dum.

The new dawn was approaching.

Dum.

His plague mask fell to the ground.

Dum.

Thus went the bells of the church under the midday sun, calling the mournful to rest in its shade.