#go fic

[goodomensao3tagoftheday]

[ihamtmus]

He knew what was behind him. An urge to leave quickly rushed over him, but curiosity won out. He turned around. The bookshop door. An image of his own hand closing it behind him that last time he left this place flashed before his eyes. His fingers found their way under his glasses and pressed hard at the corners of his eyes.

He left. Fine. Who cares.

The echo of footsteps dominated the space again. There was no point in turning around to check. That's how it worked. No instructions. No rebellion. Just a little temptation.

Crowley would have approved–the thought came uninvited and lingered longer than was comfortable.

He kept walking.

Sharing my sister's artwork (with permission) – with two snippets from her wonderful fanfic Echoes in Parallel, go check it out! It's her version of season 3 and it's beautiful.

[rogue-bard]

And who forgot again that it's Thursday? 't's meeee. But I have a weird one for you today. I hope you'll like it; it's more a fic than it is a game. This was written before s3 was out, so it's not compliant with s3.

⛓️ Slay the Principality 🗡️

Interactive Fanfic/Game 🎮 Canon Divergent 🐦‍⬛ Angst & Happy Ending

“You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a Principality. You’re here to slay him. If you don’t, it will be the end of the world.” ~ ~ ~ Crowley doesn't remember how he got here or who this Principality is, but he has a funny feeling that they've met before - 6000 years ago, again and again and again. The question is: Will he save the world or will he save the love of his life? Or will he find a way to save both? It's up to you. (An interactive fanfic.)

This is not a fanfic. This is not a videogame (yet). It's something in between. It's my first Choose Your Own Adventure fic, it has only one path and one ending - so it's more of a regular fanfic with gamified elements. (You CAN get lost and "lose", but I made it in a way that it doesn't give you an unhappy ending. Can't say more because spoilers!)

The premise is that you play Crowley and decide what he does when faced with the Almighty ordering him to slay a principality.

I made a flow-chart instead of an outline. It's mental. There's several paths and endings already outlined, and I will add them as soon as The Yelp Chronicles are finished.

My personal story behind this fic

One of all our favourite Good Omens fanartists, @sightkeeper, mentioned on bluesky that someone should write a Good Omens Slay the Princess AU. And... well, now that I think about it, this is not that lmao. Uuuh, it was supposed to be but I almost always fall back to canon-compliance when the opportunity arises. (Sorry!)

There's no need to know anything about Slay the Princess to read this. In fact, it won't help you at all in solving if you do.

Anyway, I was planning on playing Slay the Princess anyway, and after I did, I thought: Okay, yeah... I have ideas! Unfortunately, I was in between other writing duties. And that's why I only wrote one ending yet. But I have never forgotten, I promise! They're coming! Even though I don't think anybody still waits for them haha

I was afraid that a bad ending would depress someone, so while there is currently a way to... uh... well, fuck it up for Crowley, it's not permanent even in the context of fic. The problem is, that I may have hidden the clues to what you need to say or do a little too well, and a lot of people ran along the "bad" path at first before arriving at the happy end. Maybe I will also come back to that finished path and make it a little more obvious?

All that is to say: I am very much looking forward to writing the other paths and endings for this, to give you more choices. There are some that I'm looking forward to for *evil tehehe* reasons and others I'm looking forward to for *silly tehehe* reasons.

Each story-path is supposed to be a different genre. We'll see how well I'll manage!

The best part of it...

It's not a very popular fic. Maybe people don't like interactive fics? Maybe people are afraid they need to know Slay the Princess (it really wouldn't even help if you did know it)? Maybe I made a bad job of making people read that they need to click a choice and not "next chapter" for it to make any sense?

Or maybe it's just bad. I don't know. I hope not. I had a lot of fun writing it. And of all my fics, reading the comments to this one is by far the most entertaining.

My favourite one was one lovely person commenting on a choice early on something along the lines of: "Damn, I wish choice X wasn't blocked off..." (because I haven't written that ending yet and I don't want anyone to get stuck, so those choices are blocked off for now) "... not that I would ever done X, but it sounds fun." Then, later, you do get choice X again, and they, who would "not ever do X", wrote "Haha, I think I will do X now." One chapter later: "OH MY GOD, CROWLEY REALLY DID X! I DID NOT THINK YOU WOULD LET ME DO THAT". 😂 I think that was my favourite chain of comments I ever received.

Obligatory Link

You can read / play Slay the Principality here, on ao3! Please read the instructions first. They are very short but important.

[fremulon]

Crowley was rather proud of the Employee Hellpline. There had been a contest, about twenty years back, to create the most confusing phone structure possible, and Crowley had won. (He'd got inspired by calling up a telecom company to cancel service. Despite the fact that he'd made the call without an account, he'd left having agreed to a phone/television/Internet bundle and two magazine subscriptions.)

What he’d forgotten was the fact that he was an Employee, and thus had to navigate the labyrinthine obscurity of the Hellpline every time he needed to put in a request for a little extra power or office supplies. Fortunately, he didn't tend to make many calls; unfortunately, this meant that any insight he gained into the pattern had generally evaporated by the next time he had to face it.

Which was how he came to be sitting in his car, twenty minutes late for lunch, being informed in a monotone that he’d better listen carefully to the following menu, as options might have changed.

“For complaints about colleagues, press 1. For complaints colleagues made about you, press 2. For accounts payable, press 3, then 8, then turn the phone around and repeat. For accounts receivable, enter your ID in reverse. For all other financial requests, spell the first 10 pages of the Bee Movie script using your keypad. For—”

There was a knock at the window. “Are you quite all right?” Aziraphale said.

Crowley rolled the window down, half-listening to the phone menu. “Sorry I’m late—”

“You weren’t late. You drove up twenty-five minutes ago and took the ‘Reserved for Customers of AZ Fell & Co’ spot. So no actual customers have been able to park here this entire time. Which is dreadful,” Aziraphale added happily. 

“This concludes the menu. Make your selection in the next four seconds or this call will be terminated. Four…three…” Crowley racked his brains attempting to remember whether accounts payable was 8, then 3, or— “Good-bye,” the voice said, with gloomy satisfaction, and hung up.

“Ahhh, sanctify it.”

“What?”

“I’m trying to get this reimbursement through. I had to buy eighty live bats for this work thing, and apparently that kind of order can’t go through the normal process. So I’m on the Hellpline. But this consecrated phone—”

“Didn’t you design the system?”

“Might’ve done.”

“May I?” 

Crowley hit Redial and placed the phone in Aziraphale’s outstretched hand.

Aziraphale listened thoughtfully to the first list of menu options, then tapped the phone. He listened a bit longer, tapped twice more, said, “Mammal, not otherwise specified,” and handed it back. 

A voice crackled in Crowley's ear. “Accounts payable, living creatures from twoscore to nine dozen. How can I hinder you today?”

“One sec,” Crowley said, and moved the phone away. “How’d you do that?”

“It was yours, wasn’t it?” 

“Yeah.”

“I suppose I simply know how to thwart you,” said Aziraphale smugly. “Go on,” he said, nodding at the phone as he got in the car. “We’re late.”

[ineffablelunatics]

Idea for a fic where the apocalypse happens a year after S2, because Aziraphale says no to the Metatron after the kiss and Michael takes over instead. The pair make a bucket list. It contains things like “kiss under the Eiffel Tower,” written by Aziraphale, which Crowley thinks is corny, but he sneakily books a hotel by a restaurant known for their crepes anyway. Their last few months are set in a lovely garden. When they both are watching the night sky and their ears start to ring, they hold each other close. Both saying, “I love you,” before they’re standing in Heaven and Hell. They are forced to fight for opposing sides of the Eternal War that will rampage across the entirety of the universe.

The angels and demons fight in their corporeal forms. Bodies being sliced apart to be put right back together again. There are no places to hide. There is nowhere to run or speak to each other without someone listening in. They’re watched like hawks after Adam’s ‘failure.’ Upper management yearning to use them as examples. In the end, there is only two options: fight or truly die. Crowley isn’t going to let that happen to his angel, and Aziraphale isn’t letting it happen to his demon. This starts a new Arrangement.

It starts with the pair fighting like their angelic or demonic counterparts, but still protecting the other. Crowley moving a fight farther away from Aziraphale’s team. Aziraphale killing a group of demons planning Crowley’s death. When Crowley dies for the first time, the angel can’t help the enraged scream that claws its way from his throat. In his distress, a demon is able to drive a sword into his back. Both of their bodies fighting to rebuild. With their non-corporeal forms waiting in the in between, they attempt to talk. There’s still other beings milling about rebuilding themselves, but for the first time, in centuries, they can speak. After such a long time, going without speaking to the other was the torture which is why they started kill one another.

It started as a demon and angel changing their minds and fighting for what they really ‘believed’ in after rebelling for so long. Instead of staying away from fights, they start sparking them. Instead of following, they’re leading. They want to be at the center of the worst battles. The more gruesome the death, the longer their bodies need to regenerate.

One fateful night, a battle rages on and on. Aziraphale has been brutally cut down. Crowley has slowed in his own fighting, trying to take in more damage. He’s timing their deaths so that they die at the same moment. His head swings to the right when he hears his angel’s choking on his own blood. Aziraphale had been successful in loosing to the demons before him. Crowley’s hit hard in the side and takes an arrow to the back. On the ground, waiting for death, he hears his angel call out.

“Please. I can’t do it myself.”

Even with his eyes bleary from tears, Crowley can see the knife held in Aziraphale’s hand. He can’t be asking what he thinks he’s asking. The demon hears his pleas. There are many impossible things. This morning, Crowley would’ve sworn that killing Aziraphale himself was one of those impossible things, but now, as he hears his pained gasps; he forces his body to crawl.

When he sees his eyes, his real eyes, up close after so long, time stands still. Later, they’d wonder if he had actually stopped it. The angel’s barely has a voice left, but he uses it to apologize. Apologize for asking his lover to kill him. If it’s a mercy to oneself, but not to another, then is it really mercy at all? Crowley shakes his head hard. No, this wasn’t killing his lover. This was releasing him from his pain. They’d see each other soon. This he says to convince himself before reaching for Aziraphale’s hand that’s holding his blade.

A second arrow hits him in the top of his back. He falls forwards onto Aziraphale’s chest. The demon chokes out a gasp of surprise. He had forgotten what it was like to touch and be touched without malice. He had forgotten the warmth of the angel who always seemed to run hot around the serpent. He would’ve basked in it, but he could hear the crackling in Aziraphale’s lungs more clearly now. Crowley replaces his hand for the blade. With an apology on his lips, he made sure to slice into the angel’s heart with one determined push. It may as well had been his own, he thought. His corporation didn’t want to last much longer after that.

Millennia had passed since that night. After that, they willingly slide their blades into each other’s chests, because it is the only time in existence where they can touch each other. It hurts to kill each other, but when Crowley snarls adorations into his ear as he dies, he can bear it. The stray red curl that tickles his face before the final blow really makes it all worth it, Aziraphale thinks

[shirleycarlton]

Good Omens fix-it fic series everyone should read:

Might as well get comfortable

My friend @beccibarnes is writing a series where Crowley and Aziraphale have regularly been physically intimate since Job's cellar, and she's still continuing to finish the whole timeline, up to and including fixing the crazy ending of S3 in the process!

I, for one, can't wait!

Please click and subscribe to this wonderful fic!

[dcocca]

Hello! Just here to announce that Painted in the Margins (E) is finally online!

Find it at the following link:

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

(Please, mind the tags of this fic)

I hope you’ll embark on this new journey with me, and I hope you will love Anthony ad Ezra half as much as I love them. ☺️

Updates will be every Monday! So stay tuned and see you next week!

Find the synopsis below 👇

Anthony runs The Serpent’s Spine, a radical bookshop tucked into a corner of Dalston—a haven for anarchists, queer kids, and anyone who still believes in fighting back. Locals call him “the Serpent of Dalston”: sharp-tongued, fiercely independent, and just dangerous enough to be left alone.

Ezra paints in the quiet hours of the night under the name “Aziraphale”—an anonymous street artist known for breathtaking murals of angels and half-remembered Edens. His work has gone viral more than once, but no one knows his face. He plans to keep it that way.

One speaks in sharp truths, the other in silence and brushstrokes. Neither of them is looking for connection—but their two worlds collide when Ezra enters The Serpent’s Spine looking for books about art.

A story about resistance, hidden identities, and falling in love in a world that keeps trying to tear you apart.

Tagging @goodomensafterdark 💙❤️