WIP ask game: Good Omens (part 2)
@curiouspupsicle tagged me for an ask game where you have to produce snippets from your WIPS
As Tumblr was giving me issues, I split it into different posts for people to have a look at and, if they leave a comment, then I will share another snippet from the story.
Without further ado, here are some snippets from my Good Omens fanfictions.
Then, reality slapped him across the face as the man pulled out the letter that he wrote at Maggie’s Christmas workshop. The one where he’d asked for a magical Christmas.
His face heated as the man’s smirk widened.
“That wasn’t meant to be taken seriously,” Aziraphale muttered.
“Doesn’t matter. That’s the way it works. You send the letter and Santa makes things happen.”
Aziraphale looked the man up and down. “Forgive me for saying this, dear boy, but you don’t really look like Santa.”
“Oh. Oh dear.” Dr Pulisifer’s breathing became rapid. “That’s not good. I’m not good at this.”
“Maybe take some deep breaths?” Aziraphale suggested. “Or, could I get you some tea?”
Aziraphale stood up and left the doctor’s office. He’d barely taken two steps into the waiting room when Sabine handed him a strong-looking black tea.
“He always needs these when he ha to give bad news to patients.”
Her sympathetic smile made dread oil in Aziraphale’s stomach.
The group walked into the forest, and Crowley began struggling almost immediately. The uneven terrain made the shackles cut worse into his legs and he fell often, only for the guards to haul him up and shove him onwards. More than once, the guards forced him through thorny bushes that tore his skin open and added to the blood dripping onto the ground. There was no sign of stopping or slowing as the day wore on and the heat intensified. The thick canopy of branches above provided shade, but had the unfortunate effect of trapping the hot air beneath it.
Crowley felt himself relax as Dorothy appeared on screen—and suddenly the laptop went black.
“What the hell?” Crowley muttered as he pressed the “on” button again.
Frowning, Crowley set aside the laptop and went back up the stairs to grab the power cable. Then, he headed back to the lounge, plugged it in and waited for the laptop to start.
Aziraphale went over to his chair and sat down. He sighed and then picked up his tea. Bookshop saw his hands were shaking and the cup kept rattling against the saucer. Crowley ignored the sound and prowled from one side of the circle to the other, hissing under his breath whenever he slammed into the barrier. This went on for several long minutes until Bentely eventually asked
Do you think they’ll ever talk to each other?
They will. We just have to be patient.
If they don’t get a move on, Anathema’s going to come down and make them speak with those truth spells of hers . . . and that’s not going to be pretty.
I know. But, they’ll talk. You’ll see. They just need some time.
Bentley sighed, a sound that reminded Bookshop of an engine winding down. I hope you’re right.
Crowley paused and looked out of the window. There was a young person standing outside of his house. He was tempted to gender them, until he noticed the non-binary flag pin on their lapel. They had a tartan skirt, dark, curled hair and mocha skin. They peered curiously at the house, as though trying to see who was inside.
He immediately let the curtain fall back into place.
Still, the person didn’t look deterred; instead, they pulled a notebook out of their pocket and started jotting down notes.
“All right then.” Adam tilted his head. “Are you almost done for the day?”
Crowley glanced around. With Adam and Pepper helping, the trash compacting had gone a lot faster and he’d been able to stack a lot more neat cylinders in the “sorted” columns. But now the shadows had started lengthening and the temperature was about to plummet. Crowley always found it weird how the days could get so baking hot and yet it could be freezing at night.
“Yep. It’s time for all of us to go inside.”
The eggs were nestled amongst the leaves and straw at the very top for the pile. Every few moments, Crowley would adjust a leaf here, or a fluffy bundle there, or just add a bit more fabric or feathers, until it was absolutely perfect. Something warmed inside Crowley’s chest as he looked down at them. Then, he carefully looped his coils around the eggs, tucking them in like a parent would a child.
There you go. All safe and sound.
Dr Device peered at the snake, who hissed angrily.
“Easy, easy,” Aziraphale murmured as he tightened his grip on the back of the snake’s head.
The last thing he wanted was for the snake to get free and bite the vet.
She looked up and said, “it’s a serious injury, but the axe didn’t hit above the cloaca, so he should survive. We just need to stitch him up and you can take him home.”
