#good omens horror
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ain't no cure for love - chapter 3
Or, the haunted bookshop story:
Everythingâs gone to shit. Aziraphaleâs fucked off back to Heaven, and Crowleyâs stuck down on Earth with a new angel who asks the most annoying questions, like theyâre some kind of divine punishment. Then thereâs all the weird dream heâs been having, the same one, over and over. Oh, yeah, and the bookshopâs haunted.
Crowley reads Aziraphale and Memory, because heâs a nosy little git, and besides, heâs trying to help Aziraphale, isnât he? Thereâs so much in there that Aziraphaleâs forgotten; thereâs the Garden, sunny and warm up on the wall, and Crowley, whoâd spent all his time skulking in the deep shade to avoid getting stepped on by Adam, revels in it, closing his eyes a minute as he holds the book in front of him, feels the sun on his face, smells the Garden, sweet and green and alive. Theyâre not all like that, though: when he turns to Uz, he is struck suddenly with a hunger so strong he feels faint, a hunger heâs never, ever felt before, something sick and raw in the pit of his stomach, a great, sucking emptiness, and Satan, no wonder Aziraphale eats like he does, if thatâs how he feels. If thatâs what Crowleyâs awakened in him. Crowley swallows. He lingers on Greece again, and Egypt, those long lazy years spent in the Nile, and, oh, bless it, hereâs Babylon, and heâs, heâs seeing from Aziraphaleâs perspective, sees the courtyard of the palace below him, smells the bathwater, fragrant sandalwood, the water warm, the air almost cool in the moonlight on his wet skin, and something catches his eye, looking down, he sees something slinking, farther into the shadows; he squints. A glint of torchlight on a pair of dark glasses gives it away. Crowley, even as Aziraphale-in-memory, flushes, because bless it, he thought heâd been subtle, slinking, a creature of the night, how many times had Aziraphale seen him there, watching Aziraphale bathe, and oh, Christ, from up here, Aziraphale could clearly see the look on Crowleyâs face, as he stood there, looking up, dog-like, sick, devoted. Crowley throws the book down and storms off.
He comes back a few hours later, because he canât stop, canât not keep going. 125 There are more. Almost every memory has Crowley in it: thereâs one where heâs kneeling in front of some river, somewhere - he canât tell - the sight of his back, his hair, long, spilling down into the water as he washes something. Thereâs that castle in Wales and that ball in Moscow and every miserable little watering hole between here and Persia. Itâs all there, not their entire history, but a lot of it, and Crowley canât help but wonder why these memories, why here, why him.
The next time Aziraphale comes down from Heaven, Crowleyâs in the shop, listening to Shostakovichâs Rumours. He tosses Aziraphale the book; Aziraphale drops it, then bends over to pick it up, giving Crowley a reproachful look. He startles at the cover, then opens it up. âCrowley, where did you get this?â he says.
âL-space,â Crowley says. âNight that - thing was here.â
âThat - Crowley, what thing?â Aziraphale says.
Crowley frowns. âI told you,â he says. âSomeone was in L-space.â Aziraphaleâs shaking his head. âWhy are you shaking your head?â
âCrowley, I havenât spoken to you in three weeks,â he says, slowly. This is it. Crowleyâs going mad. Heâs gone mad. They always said demons who played with time went mad, and now here he is. Mad.
âYou were here last week. The night someone was in L-space.â Crowley springs up, stalks closer. âTheyâre taking your memories again. Aziraphale, listen to me, you canât go back to Heaven.â
âNo, theyâre not. Theyâre not taking my memories, Crowley. Youâre - imagining things.â They stare at each other. Aziraphaleâs chest is heaving. Heâs clutching the book.
âMuriel!â Crowley yells, without turning around. Thereâs a pause, then the clatter of Murielâs footsteps. âYes - oh! Archangel - I mean, Aziraphale!â
âMuriel,â says Aziraphale, stiffly.
âTell him,â Crowley says, pointing wildly. âTell him he was here that night there was something in L-space!â
âWell,â says Muriel, slowly, and Crowleyâs heart sinks in his chest. âI heard you talking to someone, Mr. Crowley, and it sounded like Aziraphale? But I didnât see him.â
Read the final chapter on AO3.
@goodomensafterdark
#good omens#good omens fic#my fic#good omens horror#spooky season#aziracrow#aziraphale/crowley#ineffable husbands
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I love middle age gays
#queer#lgbtq#loki#mobius#lokius#ofmd#ed x stede#blackbeard x stede#american horror story#misty day#cordelia goode#misty x cordelia#killing eve#eve x villanelle#hannibal#will graham#hannigram#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#wow i did not expect all this like i guess we all have a thing for middle age gays
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The First Omen (2024) dir. Arkasha Stevenson
#the first omen#horror#horroredit#filmedit#cinemapix#cinematicsource#dailyflicks#filmgifs#fyeahmovies#moviegifs#userfilm#useroptional#userbrittany#useranimusvox#useraurore#*#the imagery in this was so good#definitely seated for whatever arkasha stevenson does next
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neil gaiman and RTD are absolute legends for being the showrunners of 2 mainstream shows funded by large production companies in the year 2023, and proceeding to make the most queer positive episodes ever seen by man
meanwhile david tennant is just vibrating with joy because he gets more opportunities to wear his one-thousand-and-twenty-four pride pins
#neil gaiman#rtd#good omens#doctor who#rtd looking over at the loki showrunners and calling them cowards#i mean that actually did happen#i'm just imagining rtd taking disney money and neil taking amazon money and chucking it in at a queer generator#oh we got more money? great let's throw in another lesbian#while all those execs look on in horror#David tennant frantically signing the contracts#nobody doing allyship like dt being the common denominator for both these#good omens eason 2#doctor who 60th anniversary#the star beast#david tennant#lgbtq+#queer representation#trans rights#nonbinary rights#anthony j crowley#aziraphale#there are too many queer characters in GO to tag#the doctor#14th doctor#rose noble#beep the meep#yes lol im tagging beep here too#meme?#our flag means death#not in this but it's also queer positive media released this year
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UHOH! Itâs spooky season and who doesnât love a nice ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW crossover??
Because I have Good Omens brain rot, I present you with this lovely abomination.
Enjoy!
(I really like how Hastur turned out!)
#rocky horror picture show#rhps#rocky horror fanart#spooktober#good omens crowley#good omens fanart#good omens art#good omens aziraphale#crowley#aziraphel#azicrow#ineffable husbands#good omens comic#illustrator#illustration#halloween#horror show#funny fanfic#sorry not really sorry
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Iâm stuck in a loop of David tennant, horror movies, and metal bands
#takin over the asylum#horror movies#memes#david tennant#doctor who#tenth doctor#fright night#my posts#good omens#crowley#campbell bain#tennant verse
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I watched Little Shop of Horrors yesterday and instantly thought of Crowley finding Audrey II.
Azi tried to feed it homemade cake but it refused and Crowley got mad
#good omens#fanart#good omens fanart#crowley#aziraphale#david tennant#michael sheen#azicrow#little shop of horrors#audrey 2
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I canât wait to meet other queer Neil Gaiman fans so we can make a group chat called âGaimenâ
#queer#neil gaiman#good omens#coraline#neverwhere#I really love horror comedy#I need to read more of his books#I need to read american gods dont I
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I was chasing Crowley through the TARDIS and we kept running into human Daleks that said âjust deduce itâ whenever I asked why they were human.
Eventually, Aziraphale rescued Crowley and the human Daleks ate me.
#dream#text#April 6th 2024#doctor who#good omens#crowley#chase#tardis#dalek#aziraphale#horror#nightmare#queueueueueueueueueueueueueue
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I put them in the Rocky Horror Picture Show fits đ
#good omens#aziraphale#good omens fanart#aziracrow#ineffable husbands#crowley#aziraphale fanart#crowley fanart#ineffable gays#the rocky horror picture show#the rocky horror show#the rocky horror picture show x good omens#nar0 art
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ain't no cure for love - chapter 1
It's spooky season, y'all!
Or, the haunted bookshop story:
Everythingâs gone to shit. Aziraphaleâs fucked off back to Heaven, and Crowleyâs stuck down on Earth with a new angel who asks the most annoying questions, like theyâre some kind of divine punishment. Then thereâs all the weird dream heâs been having, the same one, over and over. Oh, yeah, and the bookshopâs haunted. Or, The shopâs always been able to do what it wants, within reason. Thereâd been that time in 1973 when it had manifested an extra room to hold Aziraphaleâs unexpected stock of National Geographic magazines. Or the time Aziraphale brought in a new copy of Alice in Wonderland and theyâd each had to answer a riddle to go down into the wine cellar. But Crowleyâs never come across a single locked door in this bookshop in two hundred twenty-four years. Itâs just - itâs not done. Somethingâs up with the shop. Thereâd been the thing with the jazz music from Crowleyâs dream. Crowleyâd figured it was just another one of the bookshopâs quirks, although the bookshopâs musical taste tends largely towards classical, naturally enough, with, of course, the exception that any Shostakovich left in the shop too long turns into a copy of Fleetwood Macâs Rumours.
Crowley goes back to the bookshop. Thereâs nowhere else to go. Not really. The bookshop is it for them, itâs everything and everywhere, the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end. Itâs the one place theyâve ever really felt free, the one place theyâd been able to be - them. It was what he meant when heâd told Aziraphale he couldnât leave the bookshop. Heâd known it ever since the first day, opening day, when heâd come in with his flowers and his chocolates and Aziraphale had made an elaborate show of inviting him in. Crowleyâd only realized what the whole pantomime was for when heâd stepped across the threshold and felt the wards shiver across his skin and through it, sinking through his scales to the bone, all the way down to the other plane, where he felt it sinking into his very atoms, and disseminating, becoming a part of him, forever, or, at least, until Aziraphale took it back.
Crowley imagines thatâs what humans mean when they call something home.
He expects to be turned away at the door when he goes back three weeks after Aziraphaleâs gone back to Heaven. New management, and all. And, sure, he can probably trick the Inspector Constable into letting him in, but - why bother. It doesnât seem sporting. Maybe, if heâs honest, he half-hopes the bookshop wonât let him in. Then he can say thatâs that and fuck off to, say, the Marquesas Islands or something. Nice. California. Siberia. It would be a clean break. But. No such luck.
He steps up on the stoop and puts his hand out, about to touch the door in the same spot heâs touched it for centuries, where his hand would have worn the paint, if Aziraphale had let it, and the door swings open before heâs even touched it. He swears the lamps brighten, just a little, as if inviting him in. He turns around to look back at the Bentley, but itâs already sidling around the corner to its usual spot.
Well. Nothing for it, then. He goes in. Thereâs a nice bottle of Talisker waiting on the coffee table for him, right in his usual spot. His favorite. A welcome home of sorts, he guesses, from the bookshop itself. It was - it was nice, okay, if demons did nice. It was like an old friend, one that had been around for a long time.1 The bookshop was like the Bentley; after spending enough time around ethereal - er - occult beings, it had developed a personality, of sorts. Like the way itâd trip you up at the step out the door if youâd upset Aziraphale.2 Or the time heâd rearranged the books to spell something crude, and then he and Aziraphale had gone out for dinner, and when theyâd come back, the books had spelled up yours, Crowley instead. Crowley had accused Aziraphale of doing it. Aziraphale had denied it, of course, the little bastard, all disapproving eyebrows and a twitch at the corner of his mouth. âMust be the shop,â heâd said, and patted the wainscoting when he thought Crowley wasnât looking.
Or the way the shop always seemed to make sure it was the right temperature for Crowley. Or the way the blinds always seemed to be perfectly adjusted so they covered the sun - which, during the hours of three and four in the summer, and one and two in the winter, was always right in his eyes, if he napped in his preferred position on the sofa.3 Or the way the latest Fleming novel would always be in whatever bookshelf he was facing, even if the section was something completely unsuitable, like, say, French Cookery, or Experimental Oceanography.
So. Crowley stays. It makes him feel a little less lonely. The bookshop doesnât seem to mind. Neither does Muriel. Besides, he wants to see the look on Aziraphaleâs face when he comes crawling back - and he will, nothing lasts forever Crowleyâs snakey arse - and sees that Crowley took such good care of the bookshop. That Crowley could take care of something, given the chance. Just look at his plants. Theyâre great, thriving specimens. The most beautiful, lushest plants in all of London.4
Thereâs room for the two of them, him and Muriel, because the bookshop always has been big enough for two, and they stay out of each otherâs way, mostly. Murielâs taken over Jimâs old room, got it piled up with rocks, and books pilfered from downstairs, and an incredible assortment of stationery and office supplies. Also, embroidered vests. Theyâve discovered thrift shops.5 Itâs like him and Aziraphale, discovering Earth all over again, except with a great deal less guilt and hand-wringing and a great deal less consumption, too.
Crowley tells himself itâs fine.
Crowley haunts the downstairs like a ghost....
Continue reading on AO3.
@goodomensafterdark
#good omens#good omens fanfic#good omens horror#aziraphale/crowley#aziracrow#ineffable husbands#my fic
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I can't stop drawing them hugging. Even if it's sad art, it heals my heart.
#art#digital illustration#illustration#fanart#artists on tumblr#horror art#good omens 2#gomens#good omens art#go2#good omens#crowly x aziraphale#crowley#azicrow#aziraphale
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HEHHEHE!! caught it
#thank you so much for the support!!! đĽşâ¤ď¸#this will always be my favourite social media site despite the horrors so I'm really happy you are all here#good omens#for the lil snake doodle
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Ok, hear me out. Rocky Horror Picture Show stage revival. David Tennant as Frankenfurter.
David! *grab David by lapels and forces him to stare into my eyes* David look at me, LOOK AT ME! You have one chance, ONE CHANCE, to literally kill every single person in this fandom. Donât waste it!
*hears Michael Sheen slipping in Rocky costume*
ALSO! Where is the Good Omens Rocky Horror crossover fanart?! If it exists, point me in that direction. Please and thank you! (God damn I wish I could draw!)
#good omens#David Tennant#Michael Sheen#rocky horror picture show#Rocky horror#fanart#good omens fanart#good omens fandom#i can dream canât i#Yes I know I am a depraved individual what of it?!
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heâs smitten, i believeâŚ
commission for @sightkeeper of the lads from their comic Chosen Faces which you can read here đ
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A recap and continuation of ANGSTAGEDDON!
Crowley Falls Again
TW:GORE
#illustrator#illustration#digital artist#crowley#good omens#artist on tumblr#good omens art#aziraphale#good omens aziraphale#good omens crowley#good omens au#goodomens fanfic#good omens comic#gore#horror fan#comic art#angsty art#bamf aziraphale#bamf#good omens after dark#gleafer art#gleafer
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