can i request suggestions for anathema-centric fic?
Hello!
Here’s a few Anathema-centric fics that you might like:
The Trouble with Being a Professional Descendant by Stackthedeck (G)
Aziraphale and Crowley are getting married! This celebration of love makes Anathema question her own love. Is she staying with Newt because she loves him? Or is she staying with him because that's what Agnes told her to?
this human heart built with this human flaw by rowdyhomo (G)
all anathema has ever been and ever will be is what a dead woman tells her she should be--until she burns the second book.
(a story about freedom, choice, and finding yourself)
Anyway the Wind Blows by BeezandBitches (M)
Anathema Device was born to save the world. She would grow to carry the world on her shoulders. She would be praised by her family as Agnes' chosen great-six-times-over grandchild. When it was all over, after the Apocalypse-that-never-was, Anathema came to the crushing realization that she didn't know who she was.
Therapy's expensive, yelling at your dead ancestors' thanks to magic is free.
If any of our followers have some Anathema recs, please feel free to leave them in the notes!
a combination of @beezandbitches and @animangod’s ficlet ideas on the Discord server: Aziraphale and Crowley making crepes together in a cooking class! thank y’all for the inspo!
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“Pardon me,” Aziraphale called to the instructor, holding up a finger encrusted with batter, his flour-covered face shining with all the angelic patience he could muster, which was not much at the moment.
“Yes?” said the cooking instructor, rushing over from another pupil’s table to Aziraphale’s. As they approached, and saw the extent of the damage, their face fell slightly. “Ah. I see that they’re . . . a bit overcooked.”
“Overcooked? They’re cinders,” said Aziraphale, as the last of his patience fled for the hills. Indeed, the stack of crepes he’d attempted to cook looked like they’d all run a marathon past “lightly browned” and had reached the finish line of “char-broiled.” He’d done his best to follow the recipe, but short of using miracles to cheat Aziraphale wasn’t sure how he’d ever be able to get them to come out right. “I saw less ruination at Pompeii.”
“Now, now, no need to get upset, Mister . . . Fell, was it? We’re all learners here. That’s why I had everyone double the batch of batter, so you can all get plenty of practice to get the timing of the cooking right.”
“Ah, speaking of the batter,” said Aziraphale, grabbing the mixing bowl and showing its contents to the instructor. “Is the batter supposed to be so, erm, lumpy? And grey-ish?”
The instructor’s face strained in a way that people’s faces do when they very badly want to wince but can’t let themselves. “Erm,” they said, “not quite so lumpy and grey-ish, no.”
“Not to worry, Angel, you can borrow some of my batter!”
Aziraphale turned to the table at his left and shot Crowley a dirty look. The old serpent was quite cheerfully pouring a cup of batter onto the hot plates the class was using, spreading it evenly across the circular surface exactly as they’d been instructed to. “Crowley, for the last time, I do not need your help with this! Crepes are my specialty.”
“Eating crepes and making crepes are two entirely different worlds, Angel.”
“Let’s see yours, Mr. Crowley,” said the instructor, secretly glad for the distraction; Mr. Fell’s batter had looked utterly unsalvageable.
“Call me Anthony. Had some trouble with the first few, but I think I’ve got the hang of it.” Crowley presented a stack of wafer-thin, barely-brown, delicious-looking crepes to the instructor. Just the sight of it made Aziraphale’s mouth water.
The instructor tore off a piece of one and sampled it. A grin spread across their face. “Perfect! These are truly very impressive. Are you sure this is your first time making crepes?”
Crowley didn’t bother to hide his proud smile. “First time cooking anything, actually.”
“No kidding?” said the instructor. “Well, it seems I have a natural in my class! Keep up the great work, Anthony, and you may just be taking my job soon!” They and Crowley shared a laugh, before another student called them over and they had to bustle away.
Crowley shot Aziraphale a smug look. “The batter offer still stands,” he said.
Aziraphale only huffed in reply and turned back to his own table. He stirred the batter some more, trying to banish the lumps, to no avail. He looked at his sad, blackened stack of crepes and sighed. How had Crowley managed it, and so quickly? Perhaps he was miracling his way through it. But then again, Aziraphale thought as he looked around at the other students, everyone else’s crepes looked more or less right, so what was he doing wrong?
“Stirring the batter won’t help.” Aziraphale jumped; Crowley had come over from his table and was leaning over Aziraphale’s shoulder.
“And why not?” he said, aiming for indignant, but it came out sounding defeated.
“If it’s stirred, it’s stirred. Those lumps aren’t going anywhere. You probably added the dry ingredients after the wet ones, and that’s why it looks like that,” said Crowley.
Aziraphale turned to look at him curiously. “How do you know so much about cooking?”
Crowley grinned, and held up his smartphone. “Didn’t cheat with miracles. Might’ve cheated with Google.”
Crowley had been trying to explain Google to Aziraphale for decades now, and he was starting to understand parts of it. A little. He was still a bit stuck on what Google Plus was, but he reasoned that once Crowley managed to set up an account for him, as he’d promised he’d do several years ago, then he’d finally get the hang of it. Either way, he understood enough about it to know what Crowley meant about “cheating.” He doubted the instructor would be thrilled that their class was being supplemented by secondary sources.
“Well, I haven’t got any ingredients left, so I’ll just have to make do,” said Aziraphale.
“We-lllll . . .” Crowley started to say.
“No miracles, Crowley.”
“Fine. We’ll make do. Now, to really get an even spread, you’ll have to pour it like this . . .”
By the time the class ended, Aziraphale had a second stack of crepes that at least looked like crepes, and only tasted a little bit like shoe leather. The instructor gave Aziraphale a C.
“Well, it’s better than an F,” said Crowley, as he cleaned up his table.
“Or a G, or an H,” said Aziraphale, who did not understand how grades worked. He took another bite of one of the crepes from Crowley’s stack, which he was steadily making his way through after miraculously cleaning up his table in record time. “These really are delicious, Crowley. You ought to surprise me with a homemade breakfast one of these days,” he said, half-joking.
Crowley looked up from where he was trying to polish the table spotless. “Would you like me to?” he said.
Behind Crowley’s glasses, Aziraphale couldn’t spot a hint of irony in those serpentine eyes of his. “Well--that is, if you want to,” he stammered.
Crowley nodded. “I’ll come by the bookshop sometime soon, with a fresh batch.”
“Ah,” said Aziraphale. Distractedly, he swallowed the piece of crepe he was chewing. “Jolly good, then.”
Crowley made good on his promise a week later, knocking at Aziraphale’s door with a heaping stack of positively stunning crepes. He’d made several batches in preparation to ensure this batch was superior, and unlike any demon before him, Crowley had figured out how to put love into his cooking. Those crepes were, by all accounts, some of the best crepes ever made on Earth, and every last one of them was eaten by an angel who was rather relieved that he’d never have to wander over to Paris just to satisfy a craving ever again.
Hi, i’d like to recommend Eden Arts by BeezandBitches, it’s a really fun au based on the show Victorious
Absolutely, dear!
Eden Arts by BeezandBitches
“Hollywood Hills was a stunningly beautiful city, born of people wanting talent and fame and doing anything in their power to get it. Some people were naturally talented, and those young bright future stars congregated to Eden Arts, school for the performing arts.
It was a famous school, run by ex-movie starlet herself, Miss Elohim. She had once said that anyone with enough dedication could be the next big name in lights, and so she had opened Eden Arts to nurture those talents in young people. All you had to do was prove yourself.
The Fell family had been close friends with Miss Elohim, one of the great aunts being her costume manager during the 70s, and thanks to an owed favor, they got their oldest son Gabriel into Eden Arts despite him not having a whole lot of talent. Which is a shame, because their other son Aziraphale did have talent, he was just a little shy.”
