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[aidaran-alha]

Actually, all artists will go insane if you draw art of their art. The same goes for fic writers. It could be a stick figure and we'd still love it. We're also kissing you on the lips

[aidaran-alha]

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Summary:

God was watching when Aziraphale ate the ox rib. When he conspired against Her and tricked her angels. When he lied to Heaven.

And falling should be bad, the worst thing to ever happen to him. Except that it's not. Crawley seems to want nothing but to protect him from Hell, to keep him close as he learns the ropes of being a demon assigned to Earth.

Maybe a side of their own is not such a bad and lonely thing after all.

-----

“... yes, I know it’s highly irregular— Can we have this discussion face to face, Hastur? It hurts when you go directly into my brain— Yes, I know we’re supposed to enjoy pain, I’m just saying I— No, no, I know and it’s not —”

Crawley’s teeth were gritted, and he had his sunglasses on, even if his interlocutor wasn't there. His stance was tense, and it was clear he was about to have the headache of his life.

“Oh, I know it’s my best job yet! When they realise they’re down one ang— yes, they haven’t come for him yet. Wha—? Yes, just a bit of a temptation and— oh, no, I assure you, it wasn’t easy, but now we have one more demon than we did before, and he needs to learn how to—”

Aziraphale froze in place as his face drained of all colour. They were talking about him. And Crawley was bragging about it, a fake smile plastered on his face. As the redhead’s head turned to look at the house, their eyes met, and even through the sunglasses, Aziraphale saw the other demon’s eyes widen, pupils shrinking as he realised he was being spied on.

Crawley carried on with his conversation as if nothing had happened, even if his hands twitched and his eyes purposely avoided Aziraphale’s.

“... yes, I know, and I understand but— no, I’m not arguing, Hastur, I just— he’s not trained, you see. Won’t be useful down there. And humans are a lot of troub— no, I’m not saying I need a different assignment. I can deal with this fine. I’m just saying, he’ll be a good addition to— Yes, I can train him. He’s already well versed on humans and— Yes, he can tempt them, trust me. Already brought us some souls— No, they’re still alive, give them some years to hit it. Lots of souls ‘bout to come to us, I tell ya. And the angels are starting to come here for souls too, so I need— yes, there were lots of angels there and— just let me have him around, alright? I can train him for a few centuries, give him to you if this doesn’t work out and— yes, thank you Hastur. Yes, hail Satan, I’ll submit those reports I owe you and— yes, I know I said I would do it two hundred years ago and— yeah. Bye.”

Continue reading:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54816064/chapters/140632675

@goodomensafterdark​

[aidaran-alha]

Reblog for larger sample size. Feel free to indicate in the comments your generation, approximate region of residence, your length of experience with fan fiction, or when/where you first encountered these terms.

[aidaran-alha]

Why is a woman's worth decided by her relationship to a man?

[aidaran-alha]

A fic based on one of Gleafer’s amazing drawings! Follow her here: https://www.tumblr.com/gleafer and in her Patreon!

Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Summary:

The Second Coming has been averted. Everything is perfect, Crowley and Aziraphale living together, a silent agreement not to talk about what happened in Heaven, what happened after they parted ways in the bookshop. Except that the angel keeps forgetting who he is, thinking time and again he’s human.

And this time Crowley decides he’s had enough.

—— “I… I know you. But I can’t remember your name. Why can’t I?” Crowley just waited patiently as the angel bit a cake. The first times he’d jumped in to fill in the blanks, to provide all the information. He knew better now, even if he was desperately gulping his espresso, trying to stop his leg from drumming on the floor. “I… I left you. I didn’t want to. I had to — I had to do something. A kiss. I remember a kiss.”

“Yes.”

“There was coffee involved,” the angel opened his eyes at that, and looked at the tea and cakes in front of him. “Why was there coffee? I don’t like coffee. You know I don’t like coffee, you ordered me tea. Why? Help me. Help me remember.”

“That’s what I’m doing, angel. This is me helping.”

“My head is empty.”

“Just tell me all you know.”

[aidaran-alha]

I feel like many people have a fundamental misconception of what unreliable narrator means. It's simply a narrative vehicle not a character flaw, a sign that the character is a bad person. There are also many different types of unreliable narrators in fiction. Being an unreliable narrator doesn't necessarily mean that the character is 'wrong', it definitely doesn't mean that they're wrong about everything even if some aspects in their story are inaccurate, and only some unreliable narrators actively and consciously lie. Stories that have unreliable narrators also tend to deal with perception and memory and they often don't even have one objective truth, just different versions. It reflects real life where we know human memory is highly unreliable and vague and people can interpret same events very differently

[aidaran-alha]

Heaven is so high up that once you’re there, Aziraphale realizes the only way out is to fall.

In an attempt to stop the apocalypse once more, he steals the Book of Life and Jesus’s soul, placing him back on Earth as Adam’s brother. Now suspended somewhere between falling and fallen, Aziraphale needs help from the only one he can trust to navigate his new life. The same demon he rejected a lifetime ago.

Despite how they parted, Crowley can't turn his back on the aching angel, working through his pain and heartache as they slowly inch towards one another, acting on millennia of bottled-up feelings and desire.

The only problem? Adam’s powers are still alive, and he wants everybody to have their “happy ever after” in his town.

Or else.

---------------

The little shreds of sanity they still had at that point were crushed by the fear of never being able to modify reality again, of never stopping hurting. And it was effective; it had taken those who were still strong and defiant over the edge, drove them to their knees asking for forgiveness.

Not Crowley, though.

He hadn’t begged.

He knew at that point that someone willing to destroy the one who had created the stars and wanted life to thrive wouldn’t listen to a plea coming from the darkest pit.

So Crowley hadn’t begged, instead pointing at the Heavens with his animal snoot, daring them to give him an answer. He hadn't broken down and asked for mercy.

He wouldn’t start doing it now. And he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing his angel do that. This Fall wouldn't be a punishment, wouldn’t make either of them break. He’d make sure of that, he’d protect Aziraphale.

Continue reading here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53075170/chapters/141028111

@goodomensafterdark​

[aidaran-alha]

[aidaran-alha]

[aidaran-alha]

Knowledge is empowering

[aidaran-alha]

Metaphysical selves.

Crowley & Aziraphale

(Making these into foil prints!)

[aidaran-alha]

anyway the actual point of fandom is to inspire each other. reading each other's fics and admiring each other's art and saying wow i love this and i feel something and i want to invoke this in other people, i want to write a sentence that feels like a meteor shower, i want to paint a kiss with such tenderness it makes you ache, i want to create something that someone else somewhere will see it and think oh, i need to do that too, right now. i am embracing being a corny cunt on main to say inspiring each other is one of the things humanity is best at and one of the things fandom is built for and i think that's beautiful

[aidaran-alha]

occasional posts from users

[aidaran-alha]

Chloé Zhao, who just won an Oscar for best director, writes fanfiction.

That's the kind of validation I needed in my life. Thank you, ma'am.

[aidaran-alha]

Guest comments back on!

Guest comments have now been turned back on! We'll continue to keep an eye out for any spam issues and make further adjustments as needed. (22:08 UTC April 23, 2024)

[aidaran-alha]

Chapters: 17/42 Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Summary:

Heaven is so high up that once you’re there, Aziraphale realizes the only way out is to fall.

In an attempt to stop the apocalypse once more, he steals the Book of Life and Jesus’s soul, placing him back on Earth as Adam’s brother. Now suspended somewhere between falling and fallen, Aziraphale needs help from the only one he can trust to navigate his new life. The same demon he rejected a lifetime ago.

Despite how they parted, Crowley can't turn his back on the aching angel, working through his pain and heartache as they slowly inch towards one another, acting on millennia of bottled-up feelings and desire.

The only problem? Adam’s powers are still alive, and he wants everybody to have their “happy ever after” in his town.

Or else.

------

Aziraphale was burning.

Melting.

Crushing.

Freezing.

Exploding.

Every possible sensation invaded him at the same time. He couldn’t see, he couldn't breathe. He wanted to sink into oblivion to stop feeling his body breaking in all imaginable ways. No amount of explaining how the Fall felt like from Crowley had prepared him for it.

He blindly clung to Crowley, crying and shouting, a panic he'd never felt in his life invading him.

“It hurts. I can't see. It hurts so much,” he was crying, but the tears were blood. His eyes were closed but all he could see was red.

“I know. You'll be alright, love. It's the Fall. You won't hurt forever,” Crowley was pulling him close, shivering uncontrollably as he tried to comfort the angel in the one moment no comfort was ever possible. He knew that pain. It had driven  fallen angels into madness, it had almost driven Crowley himself mad.

It was the pain that had broken him.

Continue reading:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53075170/chapters/140696887

@goodomensafterdark​

[aidaran-alha]

"The Stoppables"