An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 9/?
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Additional Tags: Pre-Fall (Good Omens), Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Post-Season/Series 02, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Guilt, 6000 Years of Repression (Good Omens), Arguing, Crying, Rejection, Getting Back Together, First Time, Angst with a Happy Ending
Summary:
“And we’ve spent our existence pretending that we aren’t,” Crowley’s voice cracked.
There was a forceful, anxious kick in Aziraphale’s chest. Oh, God, he was actually going to talk about it. Neither of them dared to for 6,000 years.
Crowley tossed his head to the side. “I mean…The last few years, not really. And I know why we’ve had to pretend, of course. That’s obvious.” His eyes lowered to the floor. “Can’t ever forget about that, can I?” he said under his breath.
~~
After being punished in Heaven for being in love as angels, Aziraphale and Crowley spend the next 6,000 years pretending their relationship never happened.
~~~
We’re finally at my take on the Final Fifteen 👀
"Love, especially when it defies expectations, often frightens those who cannot understand it. But love, Stolas, is also your greatest strength. You’ve chosen a path few dare to walk—one of authenticity and courage. If Blitzo sees the real you, then trust in that bond. The world may strip titles and cast judgment, but it cannot take away the love you and Blitzo share. Let their whispers fade into the background. Focus instead on the truth of who you are and what you hold dear and find peace."
-Yogirt (Kandi)
(Just a thought I had while thinking about this little guy. :)
“Same thing” shrugged Yang “anyway” she said after a while “thanks for helping me out with the Ursa, I could have taken it down but still thanks. And I must say I love your style of entry”
And all through the IMP office... A truly festive Ny ficlet for Jude. :)
Stolas approached the IMP office with his usual flourish, his taloned fingers adjusting the lapels of his regal coat. His visit was unannounced, of course—he always preferred to surprise his Blitzy. The thrill of catching his special Imp off guard was worth the effort.
But something was… off.
The front door creaked ominously as he pushed it open, the sound echoing in the unsettling stillness. The usual cacophony of yelling, paperwork being shuffled, or Loona's snide remarks was replaced by an eerie silence. Even the faint hum of the office appliances seemed to have died away.
“Blitzy?” Stolas called, his voice cutting through the still air. No response.
His crimson eyes swept the room, and his heart skipped a beat. The reception area was in shambles. Chairs were overturned, bullet holes riddled the walls, and spent shell casings littered the floor like confetti after a violent celebration. A sharp, acrid smell of gunpowder lingered in the air, mixed with something alien, something organic yet repulsive.
With cautious steps, Stolas moved deeper into the office, his concern mounting. His gaze landed on a familiar figure slumped over the conference table. Moxxie.
“Moxxie, dear?” Stolas said softly, approaching him. But as he drew closer, his stomach churned. Moxxie’s chest rose and fell in slow, shallow breaths, but his face was obscured by a grotesque creature—a leathery, spider-like abomination with long, sinewy legs wrapped around his head.
Stolas recoiled instinctively, his feathers puffing up in alarm. “Oh, dear Lucifer…”
Nearby, a familiar, larger figure lay sprawled against a wall. Blitz. He, too, bore the same horrifying parasite latched onto his face, its tail coiled tightly around his neck. His beloved Blitzy, usually so lively and irreverent, was disturbingly still, hand twitching slightly as a spent gun rested beside him.
Stolas knelt beside Blitz, his elegant fingers trembling as he hesitated to touch the alien creature. He glanced around the room, noticing more signs of a desperate struggle. A broken shotgun lay discarded by Blitz’s side, its barrel bent and useless. Blood—not their own, thankfully—spattered the walls and floor in thick, dark streaks.
“What on earth happened here?” Stolas whispered to himself.
His keen eyes scanned the room, searching for clues. A strange greenish slime trailed across the floor, leading toward the shadows in the corner. A low, chittering noise emanated from the darkness, sending a chill down his spine.
Summoning his courage, Stolas extended his hand, conjuring a glowing sigil in the air. The light illuminated the corner, revealing a clutch of slimy, leathery pods. Several were split open, their contents already unleashed.
“Facehuggers,” Stolas muttered, recognition dawning. He’d read about these creatures in Hell’s archives—a species from another realm, parasitic and insidious. Their purpose was horrifyingly clear.
In the serene corridors of Air Temple Island, mischief was afoot. Meelo and Ikki, the mischievous duo of the Air Nation, had decided to embark on their most audacious adventure yet: driving their father, Tenzin, the esteemed Air Nomad master, absolutely bonkers.
It all began one crisp morning when Tenzin was deep in meditation, seeking spiritual enlightenment. Meelo, with his wild hair and mischievous grin, tiptoed into the meditation chamber, closely followed by Ikki, whose eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Shh, Ikki, we have to be very quiet," Meelo whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "We're going to give Dad a little surprise."
Ikki nodded eagerly, barely containing her giggles as they approached their father, who sat in a state of deep concentration.
With a sly grin, Meelo produced a small, intricately crafted whistle from his pocket. He handed one to Ikki, and together they raised the whistles to their lips.
Just as Tenzin was on the verge of achieving perfect tranquility, the shrill sound of the whistles pierced the air. His eyes flew open in surprise, his meditation disrupted.
"Meelo! Ikki!" Tenzin exclaimed, trying to maintain his composure despite the interruption. "What is the meaning of this?"
But the mischievous siblings were already dashing away, their laughter echoing through the halls of the temple.
From that moment on, Meelo and Ikki made it their mission to keep Tenzin on his toes. They unleashed a barrage of pranks and antics, each one more elaborate than the last.
They filled Tenzin's chambers with flying bison feathers, turned his prized meditation cushions into makeshift forts, and even convinced the temple's sky bison to serenade him with off-key melodies during his lessons.
Despite his best efforts to maintain discipline and order, Tenzin found himself continually thwarted by his playful offspring. Yet, amidst the chaos, there was a spark of joy in his eyes, a hidden delight in the antics of his spirited children.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
A little fic I did while based up north, inspired by my fun with @soraofdestinyislands. It’s yaoi with Roxas x Sora, so don’t read if you don’t like. :)
