My latest contribution to this fandom that absolutely no one asked for: ineffable lock screens!
i want y’all to know i just yelled at my plants because he’s being a little bitch
Gabriel:”Just found out there are two bones in my shin and two shins in my body.That’s four bones!Fuck this shit!”
Aziraphale:”That’s not even the worst part.Go look up what your ribs are made of”
Gabriel:”Ok,i will but i’m warning you,if it’s bones.I’m gonna be so pissed off”
Christians: We’re petitioning Netflix to stop filming Good Omens because it’s blasphemy.
Me: Look, this show got me, a devout Pagan, to read the Bible again. What more could you want?
Christians: Maybe for you to stop turning our holy book into equally blasphemous, smutty fanfic.
Me: …… yeah that’s not going to happen.
HC: snek!Crowley likes to curl up and sleep in Aziraphale’s big comfy chairs. Sometimes Aziraphale doesn’t notice him and accidentally almost sits on him.
I’m sorta wanting to do some writing prompts so if anyone wants any for any of my fandoms (sorta obvious) then hit me up! I have written anything in a while and I think this is a good idea to start up again!
“You’re awfully quiet tonight angel,” Crowley said between bites of food. He sat across from Aziraphale who was barely eating himself. “It’s not like you to let a delicious chicken piccata go cold.”
The angel tried a smile, but it was frail and failed to reach his eyes. He had pushed his food around the plate more than anything.
“Angels don’t get sick, s’ what’s the problem?”
His friend’s mouth parted, an answer on the tip of his tongue, then closed once more. As a demon, Crowley was sensitive to feelings as Aziraphale was. When the pair went to Tadfield and Aziraphale exclaimed about the atmosphere being filled with love…well, Crowley could sense feelings as well. Aziraphale was typically a fine blend of righteousness, love, more love, and a touch of guilt.
Being a demon, Crowley was highly attuned to picking up guilt. Aziraphale usually experienced the emotion as a result of his…relationship…with Crowley. Beneath the guilt was always a touch of fear. Fear of being found out by heaven and hell and the both of them being destroyed.
After the apocalypse was averted, Crowley expected the guilt and fear to swirl down the drain along with the holy water in the bathtub they had tried to murder him with. But it only amplified. By a lot.
Crowley had not yet broached the subject with his friend, but he was becoming concerned. Aziraphale looked torn and guilt poured from him like an overpowering cologne.
“Could we discuss it back at the book shop?”
“Of course,” Crowley waved a hand and asked for the check.
The ride to the bookshop felt long and suffocating. He was itching to ask more questions, but had to wait for the safe haven of the book shop. Finally, after a silent ride, they arrived at their destination.
Crowley followed his friend inside silently and Aziraphale locked the door after him. Then, they both walked farther into the space. “Would you like some wine dear?” Aziraphale asked. “I certainly think it would be a good idea.”
Dread settled in the pit of Crowley’s stomach, he gulped. “Sure, yea, why not.”
They ended up on the sofa at the back of the store, wine glasses in hand. Crowley watched as his friend’s soft pink lips wrapped around the glass and downed the contents fairly quickly.
He wasn’t sure who was supposed to broach the subject, but he was growing impatient. “I’m worried about you angel,” he ventured.
Aziraphale poured himself more wine and began drinking once again. “You needn’t worry about me,” the angel replied rather unconvincingly. The guilt dripping from him was enough to nearly suffocate Crowley and he didn’t like the taste of it.
“What on earth do you have to feel guilty about?” he said suddenly, the words leaving the enamel prison bars of his teeth before he could lock the cell of his lips.
Aziraphale looked rather striken and surprised. “I…uh…you can tell I’m feeling guilt?”
“Yes, and I don like it. Look, angel, you have nothing to feel guilty about.”
The angel huffed a laugh, hollow and bitter. “You don’t know that.”
“Then tell me,” Crowley leaned forward, eyes intent on his friend. “Tell me why you feel so guilty?”
The angel enjoys being bound in submission by his demon on a regular basis.
“You can’t help.” Famine says tiredly. “I just have to stop being such a bitch about this.”
“None of your business.” Famine says quietly. He is hugging one of the pillows on the bed.
suggestion: Crowley wears sunglasses all the time, but they look like this
I’m gonna call Gabriel’s lightning power “Smitning Bolts”
Me: its about the pining. The yearning. They can’t be together, but they want to, and that is a huge plot point.
Also me: but, what if, (and I’m just spitballing here) they fucked
I can’t believe that the wiggleverse (where Crowley pranks Aziraphale into adopting some baby snakes) has 29 bits of fanfic. Like, you guys? You are the best and I’m so moved that my little HC has grown to this. I love you all!
childcare does make you talk about yourself in the third person. i regularly call myself “miss nicole” both in my head and out loud. anyway what i’m saying is crowley accidentally says “nanny ashtoreth needs a drink.” out loud to aziraphale and he makes fun of him for it forever.
Adam blinked a few times. “I’m sorry, what plan?” he questioned. “I assume you mean the Armageddon… In which case, I’m really glad I didn’t follow it. I quite like all the things that have happened since the world didn’t end.”