My contribution to the @coldomenszine is now up on Ao3! This zine was a fascinating experience, seeing what everyone brought to the table and how they interpreted the scenes of the cold open!
I was lucky enough to have astral_gravy as an art collaborator for this fic, and their art is linked. Caution, both the fic and the art are extremely NSFW!
So the exclusivity period for the @coldomenszine has ended and now I can share this piece of work with all of you. This is a company piece for a fanfic by the wonderful @freyjawriter24. The idea came from how beautiful Aziraphale was dressed at the globe so we came with the plot that he had a tailor who did the attire while our angel talked and daydremed about how his demon always looked stunning. And this is the art resulting for that. Hope you like it as much as I did while drawing it.
This was such a fun collaboration to do - thank you @afhyer for working with me, thank you to the @coldomenszine team for putting this all together, and thank you to our fellow creators for being such inspiring people to work alongside!
Written for the @coldomenszine for the Mesopotamia scene of the episode 3 Cold Open, feat. The saving of Many Animals, and Crowley-typical thwarting!
Summary: Really, what is Crowley supposed to do? Let the world fill with rain, while that giant boat just drifts off?Any demon worth his salt ought to try and thwart that Plan, and hide away as many animals as possible on the Ark. Obviously.
Read it under the read more, or right here on Ao3! Let me know what you think– Comments and kudos are much appreciated wherever you read this 💙
Today is quite possibly the longest day Crowley remembers living.
It was hard to tell whether a new day might be dawning any time soon, between the heaving waves and the pouring rain.
Most everyone appears to be taking shelter inside the Ark when Crowley lands on the ship, knees folding at the harder-than-intended landing. He releases from the folds of his clothes two tiny humans, and a family of squirrels, and several snakes in different colours, and for a moment he can only sit there, exhausted, weary down to the very bones of his corporation. All he can think is ‘where do I go next’.
He barely notices the two small kids being taken from him, until a hand rests on top of his head, and a voice, distant as sunshine but just as bright, says to him: “You’ve done enough, dear.”
He knows the voice, appreciates their help, but he cannot stop now, he must return, must go out and look for other– survivors. His mind stumbles over the word. Because these are the survivors. He’s seen few enough of them and fewer each trip out there. Still, he cannot simply give up on the few more that might be out there.
Crowley has been sneaking more creatures aboard the ship every change he’s had, from the very start. He led several different kinds of horses, and goats, and sheep aboard, simply by convincing one of Noah’s sons that no, these weren’t horses, or sheep, or goats, these were a different species, see here, look at this or that part of the creature? Very different isn’t it? Definitely not a sheep/goat/horse. He snuck in a bunch of snakes disguised as rope coils, and put some birds with nests in the very back of the firewood taken onboard for cooking. By the time anyone would get that far back into the woodpile the eggs would have hatched, and the birds could live on the roof instead. He even hid half a colony of bats in the rafters, where they wouldn’t be discovered until the rains had started and the boat had left on it’s… journey.
It could hardly be called a journey, he had complained to Aziraphale, just as the rains were starting. They had nowhere to go, there was no destination besides “up, afloat, away”. Their only goal was survival, which –yes, true, he agreed that that was a worthy goal in itself– but none of this would have happened if not for Her. Wasn’t this a little too drastic? Or a lot? Crowley had so many questions, and there was so little time.
“Crowley?”
The distant voice of Aziraphale calls his thoughts back to reality.
///
Aziraphale can see Crowley coming from miles away. If one has the ability to See it is very hard to miss him. His wings are dark, and glitter like starlit skies, and anyone with the metaphysical sight to see them would notice him against the storm-dark sky. The only visible stars tonight are Crowley’s.
His wings are also in tatters, leaking feathers of starlight and night sky where they fly against the clouds, dodging lightning, stumbling with every clap of thunder. That Crowley is still flying is almost– well... A miracle.
Certainly not one Aziraphale had anything to do with, mind you. The true miracle here is Crowley’s perseverance, or perhaps the simple inability to give up. Aziraphale has seen Crowley leave and return several times now, while the waters around them have risen higher and higher. First the trees disappeared from view, then the boat had temporarily been moored halfway up a steep hill, caught in the sand there. And then, finally, anything that called itself a hill had disappeared from view. Only the mountains remain visible now. Barely, that is, for the storm makes visibility truly terrible, and makes it nigh impossible to even tell whether it is day or night, and how many days and nights have preceded this one.
Aziraphale takes the two children from Crowley’s flagging arms, and swiftly hides them below deck, in the stables where the cows will keep them warm until one of the humans will find them in the time-that-passes-for-morning during this stormy dark.
When he returns Crowley is still seated where Aziraphale left him, kneeling on the deck, and looking utterly exhausted. Up close his wings look less like starlight, but they’re still in an awful state.
“Crowley?” Aziraphale asks, concerned. Crowley barely responds, blinking his reptile eyes slowly, as though waking from a dream.
“Angel? What’re y’doing here?”
“I was sent to keep an eye on the boat, and those on it, my dear.”
“Huh,” is all Crowley replies to that, as he puts a steadying hand on the deck and unsuccessfully attempts to stand. “You better look after all of them, Angel, even the– the newest additions, yeah?” It’s not a question, not really. It’s more of a plea.
Aziraphale takes Crowley’s elbow then, helps him stand, and nods. A promise. A vow. “I will. Every last one.”
“Alright. ‘Kay. That’s– that’s good,” Crowley pauses, standing there, on the windswept deck, supported by Aziraphale.
///
“I should–“ Crowley waves a vague hand. He should go, should find more creatures to save, should get going and should not wish to stay here, standing so close to Aziraphale. He unfurls his wings, but doesn’t step away. Aziraphale still holds onto his arm.
“My dear,” The angel sounds sad. Resigned even. “You’ve done enough. Please, stay.”
“Aren’t I supposed to be the one tempting others, Angel?” The question is silly, but he cannot stop it from escaping. Aziraphale just looks at Crowley with big, sad eyes.
“‘M sorry, Angel, I have to save– err gotta thwart the plans made Upstairs. ‘S what we demons do.” Aziraphale still hasn’t let go of Crowley’s arm. His other hand reaches behind Crowley, and he feels a rustling energy pass through the night-feathers that have carried him through the endless storm, and a pent-up energy he didn’t even realise he was holding onto flows and floods away.
Crowley sways, and leans his weight against Aziraphale. “What was–“
“My dear– Crowley,” Aziraphale must have something serious to say, he sounds sterner than the tallest mountain, or the unshakeable earth. “I will not let you leave again, you’ll get hurt–“
“Aziraphale, I have to, there could be other creatures out there–“ Crowley starts to protest, but Aziraphale interrupts him by softly cupping a hand around his cheek. His eyes are alight in the storm, resolute and fierce.
“Your corporation will not be able to cope with another flight out into this Damned storm!” Aziraphale draws a deep breath, reigning in his anger. “Dear Crowley, I told you I was sent to take care of those on this boat. That includes you, you silly demon. And I will not let you come to harm as long as you are on this boat.”
“That’s alright, Angel, I can leave–“
“No.” Immovable and unshakeable, Aziraphale gently holds onto Crowley as he tries to step back. “I am to make sure no one on this boat is hurt, and heal those who are. If you leave you will be hurt, and so I cannot let you go.”
They stand there for a long moment, staring, as Crowley is torn between the Angel who asked him to stay, the Angel who gave away his sword for Humanity’s survival, and venturing back out into the storm. He should, he really should go, but when has he ever been good at doing the things he should be doing?
Lightning flashes in the distance, and then again right over the boat, and thunder rolls in right after. Crowley feels his knees give way, and then nothing.
///
When he wakes, he is lying on his stomach on top of a blanket, though he can feel the rough wooden deck underneath it. The ship creaks, and groans, and the storm still moans outside. Crowley doesn’t remember moving below decks. He also doesn’t remember when he last rested, or had a chance to relax with his wings out like this.
Two soft, impossibly warm hands are passing through the feathers of his wings. They leave a trail of heat behind that seeps through his skin and into his muscles, up his shoulders and down to the very tips of his wings.
Which really should be impossible. His wings aren’t even visible to humans, unless they have the bad luck to be born with the Sight. And even if one of those humans was on board the ship, their hands shouldn’t feel this warm, or this lovely, or–
Crowley almost drifts back to sleep. He can feel his corporation calling him to rest more, to stop worrying and let go. But his mind doesn’t let him. He needs to know who is trying to help him, needs to know who would touch his wings so very, very gently. Because he cannot think of anyone who would.
Crowley twists to his side, and lifts a wing to peek underneath it at– at the angel. At Aziraphale. Aziraphale, who pulls his hands back quickly, a blush spreading across his cheeks at finding Crowley awake.
“Crowley! You’re awake!” Crowley doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not sure he really is awake at this point, he might be dreaming. To let anyone close enough to see his wings, nevermind touch them? It’s not something Crowley can imagine doing. And yet, here he is. And here Aziraphale is. Looking after a demon. Surely he must be dreaming.
“I– yeah. ‘M awake. What’re you– I mean, why are you…?” Crowley isn’t even sure what he is asking. Why would an angel, why would you, who have no reason to care for me, a demon, try to help me, soothe me, heal me?
“Because you’re hurt, Crowley,” Aziraphale says softly, speaking as though he’s afraid he’ll scare Crowley away. “You’ve done so much for those on this ship, and now you’re hurt, and I– I’m here, so I thought…”
“But I’m a demon!”
Aziraphale huffs at the words, and levels a glance at him that reminds Crowley why this angel was the Guardian of the Eastern Gate: “I told you, I was sent to look after all those aboard this ship. And so I will.” He pauses for a moment. “If you’ll let me?”
They stare at each other for several long heartbeats. It occurs to Crowley that here, on this blasted ship, they can do whatever they like. They’re stuck here, unless they want to risk losing their corporation altogether. He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep, but the last tops of the mountains must now be submerged. There’s nowhere to go.
Crowley nods.
A smile as bright as sunlight dawns on Aziraphale’s face. He gestures for Crowley to lay down, but Crowley sits up instead, folding his knees underneath him and extending one wing to his side, towards Aziraphale. If they’re doing this, he wants to watch.
And he does.
He might call it magical, except Crowley knows that magic doesn't exist, not like this. An angel (a friend) runs his fingers ever so tenderly through the feathers of his wings. They really were in a bad shape, Crowley now sees. Starlit midnight feathers askew or even loose in places. But as he watches this angel (his friend) run his hands through them they are fixed, their silky sheen returning, and their stars growing bright oce more. He doesn’t know how Aziraphale is doing this (it must be a Miracle, Crowley thinks– it certainly feels miraculous), but with every pass through his feathers a warm glow spreads.
Crowley doesn’t know how long they sit there, below decks in a very full boat, yet completely undisturbed. At some point he turns around at Aziraphale’s direction, so that he can work on Crowley’s other wing. It feels just as good, maybe even better, and Crowley feels his whole body relax.
He doesn’t know how long they sit there, but if it were up to Crowley they would stay this way forever.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
New work posted! **E-rated fic with NSFW art**
Written for the Globe scene in the @coldomenszine, with art by @fledglingdoodles and fic by Dannye.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)
Additional Tags: Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Scene: Globe Theatre 1601 (Good Omens), Wall Sex, Sweet Sex, Stolen Moments, angelic gratitude, Art, Illustrated Fic, NSFW Art
Series: Part 18 of Dannye’s Zine Fics
Summary:
Aziraphale opened Crowley right up with her nimble fingers, moving the doublet aside to reveal what Crowley kept close to her heart: an undershirt of bright angelic white. As if it were some sort of favor from Aziraphale, her colors kept secret beneath the dark clothing Crowley showed to the world.
Hello Everyone! Physical and Digital copies have been distributed to customers who ordered in the pre sale. WE have extras and are having a left over sale over in our shop! Check it out before we sell out!
Merch only option is now available in the store! Bookmarks, stickers, and post cards, examples of which are below. We also now have a SFW edition of the zine! Check them out!
As we go about getting the zine ready for processing, we've had a few piques of ideas pop up. This is an interest check to see how many people would be interested in some of the additional material.
We had some new opportunities regarding merch bundles and a SFW only option. IF you are interested please fill this out!
