Aziraphale: I love you.
Crowley: Disgusting.
Crowley:...Say it again.
trying on a metaphor
No title available

Origami Around
Cosmic Funnies
Peter Solarz
h

pixel skylines

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

JVL

izzy's playlists!

Love Begins
Keni

blake kathryn

roma★
tumblr dot com
ojovivo
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

No title available

Kiana Khansmith
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

seen from United States
seen from Netherlands

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Argentina
seen from Argentina
seen from Argentina

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Portugal
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Indonesia

seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands

seen from Finland
@tybalttrouble
Aziraphale: I love you.
Crowley: Disgusting.
Crowley:...Say it again.
Julie Andrews, promoting her return to Broadway, in the stage adaptation of Victor Victoria! New York, 1995.
I—I’m sorry—I—what did you say? I couldn’t hear over the sound of HOTTT
Figuring it Out
Soooo...is it really a Levs fic if the chapter updates aren't horrendously late, approaching 10k, and come with a ch count bump? LOLLLL
I think there needs to be a fandom beta day where we celebrate fic betas because gaiaseyes and TybaltTrouble are my heroes. xoxo Also, you lot in the feral little gremlin server, The Serpent and the Saint, mean the world to me, thank you for all of your encouragements and kind words.
Seriously, thank you for still reading. These silly prunes finally have their date, and put the 'E' in Explicit while they're at it ; )
.
.
.
A moment later the club lights dim even further, the volume of what apparently passes as music increasing as Shem—the club’s resident disc jockey—selects some bass-heavy electronic sound-soup to appease the younger crowd pressing onto the dance floor. Aziraphale looks around as the haze of a fog machine clouds the air, that faint but familiar sick-sweet scent filling his nose. A collection of Kinta lights blazes to life, throwing flickering multi-coloured beams into the smoky air.
His twenty-year younger self would have looked forward to this part of the evening; losing himself in the smoke, the humid heat, the alcohol-steeped haze, the shared experience of swaying and moving. He would’ve hardly qualified it as dancing, but it was invigorating nonetheless; that bold and rebellious form of expression shared only within the mosh of his happily inebriated fellows. It was about the camaraderie of it—the carefree confidence and celebration of the invincibility of youth.
These days, he prefers to make his way home after performances; to his comfortable wingback where a glass of wine and a good book are his welcome party. Occasionally, he’ll linger at the club for the length of a drink and pleasant conversation with the other entertainers, or allow himself to be shuttled to a smaller pub or food establishment by Anathema if he has the energy.
A quick squeeze of fingers reminds him that there’s still a hand in his. A warm whisper of air next to his ear sends a shiver spiraling over his shoulders and down his spine as Crowley leans close to be heard. A whiff of citrus, spice and cedar wood infuses his nose and he inhales deeper, breathes it into his bones.
“D’you, uhm…can I get you another drink? Or—” The words are tentative; an accommodation in the upward inflection should Aziraphale wish to stay. But he thinks he detects a bit of his own mind in them: Old, tired, and desirous of someplace quieter…perhaps more intimate.
Aziraphale turns, eyes finding Crowley’s; glittering like tiger’s eyes in the low light. He’s so very close. “—Or would I like to get out of here? Go somewhere quiet where we can enjoy our evening together?”
Summer, 1138, and the Civil War has come to Shrewsbury.
When Shrewsbury Castle falls to King Stephen Lucifer, ninety-four defenders loyal to Empress Michael are hung as traitors. With a heavy heart, Brother Azirafael agrees to bury the dead–and discovers a ninety-fifth body among the lawfully executed.
The only other person who seems to care about this extra victim is the enigmatic Lord Crowley. However, Crowley is King Lucifer's man, and while he could make an attractive ally, Brother Azirafael isn’t sure how far he can be trusted.
One Omen Too Many is a Brother Cadfael AU @joyandotherstories have been working on and are posting now in celebration of Sean Pertwee (aka sexy Sheriff Hugh Beringer in the original TV series) being cast in GO Season 3. Hopefully, he and Derek Jacobi will have some scenes together as their chemistry pretty much inspired this fic.
Cover art by Kingstoken.
THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE
SECOND ROUND: 35th Tilt
Hugh Beringar, Cadfael (1994-1998) VS. Sandor “The Hound” Clegane, Game of Thrones (2011-2019)
Propaganda
Hugh Beringar, Cadfael (1994-1998) Portrayed by: Sean Pertwee Defeated Opponents: - Prince John [Claude Rains], The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) - Father Beocca [Ian Hart], The Last Kingdom (2015-2022)
“The One True Hugh! He deserves much support. I love Sean Pertwee's portrayal of the saturnine, intelligent Hugh, and the way he captures the character's warmth and humor and the frequency with which he is just Done. Also those cheekbones could cut glass, good LORD.”
Sandor “The Hound” Clegane, Game of Thrones (2011-2019) Portrayed by: Rory McCann Defeated Opponents: - Sir Lancelot [Nicholas Clay], Excalibur (1981) - The Sheriff of Nottingham [Peter Cushing], The Sword of Sherwood Forest (1960)
“Sandor Clegane is a very handsome man, dark, mysterious, and badly scarred which makes him way more attractive and desirable. His sense of humor is very dark, yet hilarious, and the way he protects those he cares for is heartening. He also loves a good chicken or two!”
Additional Propaganda Under the Cut
Who is the Hottest Medieval Man?
Hugh Beringar [Sean Pertwee] (Left)
Sandor Clegane [Rory McCann] (Right)
@tawnyontumblr @tybalttrouble It’s our boy Hugh!
Hugh my beloved!
Plumage - rated T, ~690 words
Post-Apocanot, an angel and a demon come together at last. Only...
---------------------------
“Bloody hell, angel, what’s that?”
“What’s what?”
“Dunno, just – stings all over, started when you got your wings out, and – feelin’ panicky – stop lookin’ at me like that –”
“Like what, dear?”
“Like – with all those –” Crowley squinted and made a hand-flapping gesture that took in the glorious arches of Aziraphale’s wings and the multitude of eyes that peeped from them, not unlke the spots on the fanned tail of a peacock. Aziraphale glanced from side to side, took his meaning, and collapsed his pinions in a vacuum-seal poof that left the room feeling rather empty and the moment rather spoilt.
It had been going so well. The halting confession. The upswell of joy as it was returned. The tentative touch of lips, the exultation mingled with a thump of desire that had waited sixty centuries.
He had wanted to give Crowley of his best.
But here was his demon, half-attired and sagging with relief. Also, just sagging. Everything had looked so promising a moment ago.
“Dear – is that better?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Just – wasn’t expecting – dunno why it felt that way – like you were gonna smite me, like I wanted to creep off and – it’s you, angel, never been afraid of you –” Crowley blew out a long, shuddering sigh. Aziraphale reached for his hand.
“It’s been a lot, these last few days, dear. Ought I to make some tea?” At Crowley’s uncomprehending glare he revised that: “The malt whisky’s right here.”
“Mmp. Helps,” said Crowley after a robust swallow.
“Was I going too fast?”
“Not that. Everything was fine. Just when you opened those out – seen your wings out, but not like that – staring –”
“Staring – oh. I think begin to see.”
“Bloody well should think so, with all those – ulp.”
Aziraphale poured again. “I wanted to – to court you with the full splendour of an angel, my dear. And – erm – the eyes are meant to, well, daunt evil – except you know I don’t think you personally evil, but I suppose it’s built into the design – you know, to convey that the Divine is always watching and your misdeeds are not concealed – well. She gave it to us after the Fall, for protection from your um, former side, and it worked so well that She built something like it into animals, moths for instance, and certain fowl, you’ve seen the display they make when they’re courting. It’s meant to repel predators, not a good moment for the creatures to have to deal with that sort of thing. Though I think we needn't worry about your former associates just at the moment.”
“Your wings have a built-in demon deflector?”
“I’d quite forgot that aspect of them in the heat of the moment. The eyes tend to come out when I’m excited, and quite honestly I’ve never been this excited before, not even at Tadfield -- and nor I’ve ever felt I needed to stop it before – oh dear. This is a predicament, isn’t it?”
Crowley finished the second glass, looking steadier.
“Might try – maybe kinda sidle up to it? Open one at a time?”
“Er. All right.”
Aziraphale flicked his wings into being again. One eye peeped coyly out from under a flight feather.
“Okay. Can take that. Just tingles a little.”
Another opened, twinkling in the soft down.
“Urghh – feels kinda swoopy. Not so bad. You know, like when you go on one’ve those fairground rides? An’ it’s scary but – makes you want to grab onto someone?”. Not so bad. You know, like when you go on one’ve those fairground rides? An’ it’s scary but – makes you want to grab onto someone?”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know. I have never seen the amusement in – “
“I’ll show you, angel. Some other time. Just – try another one – ‘kay, that’s enough –”
“My goodness. That seems to have revived your flagging, er, instinct.”
“Little closer.”
“Like – oof!“
“Yeah. Just like that. Big bad predator, me. Gonna show me a threat display?”
“I really don’t think – “
“Ah, I do.”
“You could be – a little evil, I suppose –”
“See, just took me by surprise is all. C’mere, threaten me some more.”
“Hm. Well, Virtue is ever vigilant.”
“And evil never – well, not sleepin’ right at the moment, any road. But. Hm. Do think I’m ready to get my head down.”
Comment On AO3
This happened because of a Tumblr reblog by @kedreeva (which I’m still trying to re-find), explaining how the “eyes” in a peacock’s spread tail help to discourage predators that might happen along during a courtship dance, because an attack would be inconvenient “when you’re asking the ladies for a smash.”
Tagging my readers as usual, drop a reply if you want on or off the list!
Well, my good Good Omens folk, that was a freaking week.
I had this fic rec post essentially in the can a few hours before we found out about the production pause on season 3. We’ve been nervously expecting something like that. Meanwhile, people throughout the fandom are hurting from the stain that the increasingly persuasive allegations leave on a book and show we love; angry both on behalf of the people making those allegations, and for the people already engaged on the project, who stand to lose the most if it folds.
But.
Whether you want season 3 on any terms, or can’t stomach the idea of supporting it if Neil remains connected to it at all;
-- whether we even get a third season or not;
-- whether it truly restores Sir Terry's voice to the narrative, or whether it turns out Neil's just gassing about that "sequel outline" and delivers more of the (IMHO) uneven weirdness that was season 2 –
-- whatever happens, we have enough Good Omens content to beguile our hours or glad our eyes indefinitely, and it isn’t going to stop coming any time soon. We did that – by writing and producing artwork, by cheering on creators, by sharing our enthusiasm and excitement with each other. The fandom, and the worlds we built around Good Omens, are ours to keep and curate and revisit.
But I do miss the unalloyed joy and exhilaration of those first months, when fics that ranged from tender to comic to horny (often all of the above) came flooding out of us because there had never been anything quite like that before. The headiness of “I can't wait to tell a story about all these delicious characters! And another! And another!” is only accessible to me in fits and starts at present.
So this Throwback Thursday features some restorative dainties that bring that post-season-01 euphoria welling back up in my heart; that make me remember Eliot’s lines
to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Here's a summer 2019 fic that charmed me on first reading and still does: Like Lovers (E), in which Adam's preteen angst precipitates a blizzard, and Aziraphale and a half-frozen Crowley take shelter in Anathema’s vacant cottage (boy, is she going to need to settle the vibes). It’s also, possibly, the debut iteration of a highly recognizable phrase:
"I think the world is safe for today. And neither of us is getting smited, er, smote? Smitten?"
“You just got... smited... right out a window, angel!”
That made them both laugh, and all of a sudden Aziraphale pulled him into a tight hug.
(Hard side eye at Certain Parties who claim never to read fanfiction.)
Sensuous, graceful and tender writing.
@charlottemadison42 's long-form fics Shotgun Wedding and Or Be Nice are hugely popular, but I'd like to recommend a less-read brief gem from 2020, in which Crowley's ability to insert himself into a mobile phone becomes a vexation for Aziraphale and a source of consternation for a couple of Internet mavens with a call-in show.
Alex: What, uh, what led you to the conclusion that your phone is demonically possessed?
A.Z.: Well, my friend rang me up three nights ago, and he's a demon, and we had a disagreement, and now he's inside my phone, and he refuses to come out. If you ask me, he's sulking. It's juvenile.
Read it here: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a demon in possession of a mobile phone, must be in want of attention (G)
In January 2020, fandom got its hot little hands on the never-filmed 1992 Good Omens movie script penned solo by NG – sometimes affectionately referred to as the “shitscript,” since excerpts in circulation made the Crowley-Aziraphale relationship look outright toxic. However, @kanna-ophelia, not a fan to tolerate an abusive depiction of the husbands, describes it in this post (where you can access the script) as “fricking adorable,” though lacking “Terry Pratchett's grace, complex humanity and way with words (see also: GO S2).” Fic writers fell upon the script, and here's my own favorite among the results:
The Tadfield Secondary Players (G) Adam tells his schoolmates how the world almost ended. No less than Greasy Johnson insists he can write a better Apocalypse, and mounts a play recognizably based on the script – which is attended by not only the denizens of Tadfield Secondary, but all three alternate pairs of husbands (Book, Radio and Show).
Adam gritted his teeth. “Fine. Fine, I’ll help you put on your stupid play.”
Colin grinned triumphantly. “Knew you’d come around. You’ll see, I’ll—”
He put up a hand. “ But ,” he added, “there’s going to be judges. To see if it holds a candle to the real thing. And, I get to pick them.”
More script-inspired fics in this collection.
Finally, for those anticipating the tidbits that have been dropped about the events of season 3, here's @sew-birb 's O Little Town Of Swindon (T) -- Featuring special guest Jesus Christ in his first public appearance in almost two thousand years!!! Be there or be sorry!!!
Or, Aziraphale gets an annoying invitation to Heaven's post-Armageddon Christmas party, held in a budget hotel in Swindon. The other angels aren't happy about his plus-one, but they need him to explain things like Christmas dinner, Secret Santa gifts and how to pull crackers. On the upside... there's only one bed. And Crowley's old friends with the guest of honor.
"Well. Been doing charity work, have you? Building houses for the needy with all those carpentry skills?"
"More or less. It turns out there are a lot of jobs that need doing where nobody questions a man named 'Hay-soos' turning up to help out."
Do you have a consolation fic that's getting you through? Drop it in the replies or a reblog!
Tagging folk in the replies as per usual -- lmk if you want on or off the tag list.
Is Crowley really a good old fashioned lover boy, though?
I think Crowley said it best himself, actually...
He's both modern and old-fashioned in only all the best ways of each, isn't he? 🔥💘🐍😉
@vidavalor In Aziraphale's eyes, Crowley is irresistible!
This is very true.
Does Aziraphale normally wear this much mascara?
darn pda
One of the most dangerous things in the world is not being able to say no to people because you don't want to upset them or dissapoint them. This will completely ruin your life in every way possible, at work, in your private life, your sex life and your friendships. It's a way of removing your own consent in your own decisions and go against your wishes, it is always a crime against yourself. Let yourself have a say. Upsetting people is better than traumatizing yourself.
Also way fewer people than your jerkbrain predicts will actually be upset or disappointed.
This was a fun challenge
"The Ineffable Kiss" by @manueljiniesta_art
"The Ineffable Kiss" by @manueljiniesta_art Digital art with @procreate #fanart of #Crowley and #Aziraphale from #GoodOmens
https://manueljiniesta.artstation.com/ http://iniestailustraciones.blogspot.com https://www.facebook.com/iniestailustraciones/ https://www.instagram.com/manueljiniesta_art/
#manueljiniesta #art #arte #drawing #Draw #draws #concept #conceptart #conceptartist #digital #illustration #digitalillustration #digitalart #digitalartist #cine #cinema #cinemaart #buenospresagios #neilgaiman #terrypratchett
This is glorious.
Stunning
How does this have less than 500 notes? This is incredible!!!!!!!!
Amazing
Temptation accomplished.
Aziraphale thinks he’s subtle but mostly Crowley is just stupid.
(Please do not edit, trace, repost, steal. Reblogs appreciated!)
Hi
I would love to see the Ineffable Husbands represented as POC. Fem would be perfect, but either Fem or Male presenting would make my heart sore TBH. Don't know if this is a prompt you'd consider? Thank you.
This was a fun challenge! I hope you like it @neurolady!
smmmooooooch
The Kiss™️ really does hit differently without the music.
So much more personal and stark. Hearing all the small noises they make, the sighs, words catching, and the soft noise as they break apart.
And the _ache_ of hearing people laughing and going about their lives on the street outside, while the world stutters and shatters inside the bookshop.
298 likes, 26 comments - crowleyluvbot on April 3, 2024: "if you haven't seen every without the background music here you go, imo it's even