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[gleafer]

ANNOUNCEMENT!

I am UNLEASHING my “MAKE BEAUTIFUL MUSIC TOGETHER” comic.

THAT’S RIGHT!

*giant inhale*

You get to read my insane Mr. Brown makes the moves on an oblivious Aziraphale while a panicked Crowley attempts to save the day and he’s just so bad at it comic FOR FREEEEEEEEEClick on my Patreon link and search the above title and BRACE YOURSELF for utter chaos. Udder chaos? No. There are no cows. UTTER CHAOS, I say!

18+ only. Enjoy responsibly. Do not operate heavy machinery for at least 12 hours after reading. Talk to your doctor about any possible side effects when using Gleafer’s terrible, no good, very bad content.

*exhales*

I’m sorry, mom.*

*No I’m not.

[gleafer]

Puffin is doing this amazing interactive Choose your own adventure type story and y’all should go play!

What a fun idea!

Fanatic Intervention Part 7!!!

Beginning|| Previous || Next

It will not surprise you at all, dear Reader, to learn that Aziraphale keeps very little in his kitchen cupboards. There is no stove or oven, and the only thing in the fridge is milk (for his tea no doubt). When you start opening cupboards, you find one pack of custard creams, and a second one of chocolate digestives. Well, it will have to do. You find yourself a small plate and fill it half and half before heading back into the shop just in time to say goodbye to Anathema and Newt.

As they leave, you turn to the supernatural entities in the room.

“So,” You say, “If we’re going to the States, then we have a few problems. First, I don’t have my passport or any ID at all, so airport security is going to be fun. Second, I have no money. Third, I’m gonna need a Walmart or something because I don’t even have a toothbrush, my dudes. Fourth, these,” You indicate the cookies, “are fine for a snack, but overall they’re not gonna cut it.”

“You just leave the airport security to us,” Aziraphale replies. You make a note that he glided right past ‘my dudes,’ they’re getting used to you already. Dammit. “As for the rest of it,” Aziraphale continues, “I suppose a trip to Tesco’s is in order.”

Crowley produces a shiny black credit card from nowhere and hands it to you. “We’ll take the Bentley,” he says. He starts to stand, but you shake your head.

“Nuh-uh, you both stay here,” You say. Crowley raises his eyebrow.

“You realize we can take care of ourselves,” he says, “We’ve been doing it for a few millennia.”

“I’m not talking about that,” You say, “Look, what we’re going into is really dangerous. And I know that your pattern is to just wait to talk about things until you’re in the clear, but that’s not a good idea anymore. I mean, I get that I’m not exactly an expert, but I read just as much as you do and I’ve heard a million stories by this point in my life, and in NONE of them do people ever say ‘I’m so glad I never told them how I feel’ - you know? It’s always ‘I wish I would have’ or ‘I should have told them every day.’ So Muriel and I will go ask Maggie to take us to Tesco, and you two need to talk. Please. While it’s safe, while you have the chance, before things get dangerous and possibly deadly.”

Crowley and Aziraphale are silent. You notice that they aren’t looking at each other. Well, you’ve done your best. Now you need to trust them.

At this point, dear Reader, you are probably thinking to yourself ‘well I would snoop and spy on them while they talk! I want to watch them make out!’ But here is the thing – in this world they are real people, not characters. It’s one thing to say that you would creep on them from the other side of this fiction, but when they’re very real and looking at you in person, things are a little different. For one thing, you realize that real people deserve things like boundaries and privacy, especially for sensitive conversations.

And so, you take Muriel over to Maggie’s shop, where you explain that Mr. Fell has sent the two of you on an errand and you need to stop for dinner somewhere and have no idea where anything is. You flash her the credit card and say ‘It’s all on me,’ and she conveniently agrees with a look on her face that says something like ‘least they could do after all that shit they put us through.’

So the three of you go for dinner at the nearest Weatherspoons, where you and Maggie eat while Muriel watches in morbid fascination. Then you all take the bus to Tesco where you buy yourself a small wardrobe, and manage to coax Muriel into some light blue jeans and an argyle jumper so they look a little less like the Beacon of Gondor. You quickly find out that Muriel has an adorable fascination with fuzzy socks, novelty mugs, and coloured pencils. Of course, you enable their fascinations with a happy heart, and as an afterthought, you grab them a small pot of orange daisies from the flower section. It will give them something alive to tend to while you’re gone. Muriel appreciates the thought. All in all, it’s a long but good time.

You don’t know about the talk, and you’re worried about asking when you get back.

THAT BEING SAID

You and I, dear Reader, not actually being in that world, are allowed certain privileges.

The bookshop is silent for a long time. Both of them are thinking, digesting, processing. Feelings are hard to feel, and harder to put into words. Especially when it has been made clear, twice now in the span of a number of hours, that you absolutely need to put them into words.

It isn’t until after Crowley notices you, Muriel, and Maggie heading down the street that he stands up and begins to pace. A few more minutes pass before he speaks.

“So...uhm...are you going to go first or should I?”

“Are we...are we actually going to do this? Have this talk I mean?” Aziraphale has been shelving books to try and take the edge off. Now he puts down the book in his hands and absent-mindedly fidgets with his ring.

“Well, I mean we don’t have to,” Crowley says, aiming for non-chalance and missing ever-so-slightly, “No one can actually make us.”

“Yes, except it feels very much like everyone is trying to.”

“Trying is the key word there.”

“That’s true enough I suppose.”

The silence returns and stretches. It is anything but comfortable. The air is full of words that they have been told they should say, words that perhaps they want to say, but words that have been dammed up with fear and uncertainty for so long now that they’ve become very hard to un-stick. After a while, Aziraphale clears his throat and speaks.

“I, erm, I suppose you had better go first.”

“Me, right, okay.” Crowley clears his throat now and stops his pacing near the desk. He looks down at the scattered papers and books, the pens and photos and newspaper clippings. The assorted clutter of Aziraphale’s life. Looking away makes it easier to start. He takes a breath. “Um..right...well...we’ve known each other a long time. We’ve been on this planet a long time – you and me, I mean. I’ve always been able to rely on you, and you’ve always relied on me,” another breath, “We’re a team, yeah? A group of the two of us. And...erm...we pretend that we aren’t. Always have. Safer that way I guess.” He looks up at Aziraphale. The angel isn’t looking at him, but he nods anyway to show that he’s listening. Crowley continues. “And I mean...I’ve tried not to think about it much before but...but it would be nice, I mean, UGH” He takes off his sunglasses and rubs a hand over his eyes as though he can massage the words and make them easier to say. “I mean, I would like to spend...mmm….I would like to spend the rest not pretending anymore. Be an us. I mean,” suddenly the dam breaks, and Crowley finds the words come tumbling out, “If Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, we can. We don’t need Heaven or Hell, they’re both toxic. We can be an us, on our side. You and me. What do you say?” He looks at Aziraphale without reservation now. His angel looks back at him, eyes wide. When he does speak, it’s with a smile and a small nod of acknowledgment rather than agreement.

“That was very well done Crowley,” he says. This isn’t an answer.

“Nnyeah, thanks. Your turn though.”

“Right, I suppose it is.” Aziraphale takes a moment to gather himself. After hearing Crowley be so open about this, he feels more resolved himself to do this properly. He faces Crowley and folds his hands to keep himself grounded. “Crowley,” he begins, “I...I wish that this conversation were happening under better circumstances. Although it’s been pointed out that ideal circumstances aren’t a promise that we can wait around for. Well, the thing is that I would like the same thing. Very much in fact. My biggest concern by far is for your safety because, well, frankly I don’t see the point in saving the world again if you’re not around to enjoy it with me. An us, as you said. You and me.” He smiles. Crowley smiles.

“Guess we’d better save the world together then. And try not to die.”

“Yes, quite.”

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, Crowley?”

“You’re my angel. No one else.”

“And you, my wiley serpent. No one else.”

The shop bell dings.

“We’re baaaaaack!” You sing as you waltz through the door, shopping bags in hand. Muriel follows after you, carefully carrying their daisies. “Did you miss us?”

When you eventually get the courage to ask them about their talk later, you get a “ngk” from Crowley, and a “We’ve said all that needs to be said, for now.” from Aziraphale. And that, you suppose, will have to do.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

[gleafer]

I mean… HONESTLY.

[gleafer]

Read this and feel ALL THE THINGS!

Writers Guild Presents - Tethered - Ch 7 - Memories

Big thank you to @gleafer for accepting to let me use this piece as illustration to this chapter! Go support her on Patreon -we promise that your loins will catch on FIRE ;)

Written by NegotiationReal6508 on our subreddit!

Chapter 7 of work in progress

TW/CW: Angst, Discussion of attempted suicide, implied character death, panic attack, some light smut.

Summary:

Crowley wakes up in a mental hospital with no memory of how he got there. Without his demonic powers, neither the doctors, nor the people who claim to be his family will believe he is who he says he is. With the evidence against him mounting, his only lifeline to the real world is a cryptic note left by an unseen messenger. The longer he stays in this hospital, the harder it becomes to recall for sure, is Crowley really a demon of Hell? Or has his entire existence been nothing more than a delusion conjured by a grieving mind?

Excerpt:

Crowley stood in a noisy airport at the arrivals gate holding a bouquet of red roses, fidgeting nervously. All of his usual laidback swagger was buried under a blanket of anxiety, his spine was a solid metal rod. He was always a little bouncy when Aziraphale came to visit, but this time was different. Crowley hopped his feet up and down like the floor was burning hot sand. He juggled the little box in his jacket pocket as he stared at the sliding glass doors, willing the familiar head of blond hair to appear through them. Were the roses too cliché? Maybe he should have gotten the peonies instead. Too late now.

“There, I see him.” Crowley turned to the young man beside him. “Are you recording?”

“Yeah, it's on,” said Adam.

“Right, here he comes.” Crowley shook out his shoulders and trilled his lips. He knew he looked ridiculous, but it was an airport; no one ever looked their best at an airport. He moved towards the beacon that was Aziraphale’s gleaming smile. His heart thudded like hoofbeats in his chest. Breathe, he reminded himself. Breathing and walking, those were the two main requirements at the moment. He had no idea what his facial expression was, he just hoped he was smiling too. God, Aziraphale was so gorgeous, even after eight hours on a plane. How was that even possible?

“Hello, my darling!” Aziraphale greeted him.

“Hi,” said Crowley, because that was about as eloquent as he could manage. He unceremoniously handed the bouquet to Aziraphale.

“Oh my!” Aziraphale chuckled. “Flowers? What's the occasion?”

And there was Crowley’s opening. Aziraphale was reaching out his arms for an embrace but Crowley needed to do what he came to do first. He bent down on one knee, and pulled the little box from his pocket.

Continue reading on AO3

Or start from chapter 1 - Dies Lunae

Special thanks to my beautiful betas: u/KotiasCamorra, u/Paperclip_Ninja

[gleafer]

Reddit’s @goodomensafterdark is having an ineffable wives week! Go enjoy fan fics, art, gifs/memes and more all celebrating the 8008 (heh heh boob) followers!

[gleafer]

Have a Reddit account?

Like Good Omens?

Like SAUCY entertainment and a community of supportive fellow goblins who will gleefully share the best of such fics, art, memes, interactive challenges, SONGS and ENDLESS GIFS???

WELLLLLLLLLL why don’t you mosey on over to Reddit’s @goodomensafterdark and join the rabble on the best sub that every subbed. Soobed? Sibbed? Subbed.

It’s a great time and I adore their warm, somewhat handsy, embrace in this fandom we love so!

VOICE OF GOD: ADULTS ONLY. 18+ *THUNDER AND LIGHTNING*

Go on then! Hop on over! Quick like a bunny! Atta goblin!

[gleafer]

What WHAT??? 14,000 followers?!!!

Aw! You make this small potato feel all Au gratin!😘

Enjoy these pages from my Patreon 80s romcom “Come With Me If You Want To Live!”

I cram in as much 80s nostalgia as I can dig out of my childhood memories!

[gleafer]

MISTAKES WERE MADE!

Crowley loves Aziraphale because he is batshit insane. Ángel LOCO. Always full ham. No half measures. Will lick the plate and probably yours too. All the while with a pinky up.

Long live Aziraferal.

[gleafer]

When you’ve lost your corporation so had to put a rush order in for next day delivery.

A page from my Come With Me If You Want To Live comic!

He’s Kenough.

[gleafer]

A close shave😍❤️

Sometimes demons need maintenance.

[gleafer]

A page from my 80s retro comic “COME WITH ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE”

Next chapter dropping soooooon!

[gleafer]

Warmups are just as important to artists as they are to athletes! Get loose and go nuts to prep your hand and brain before diving in on a project.

Here are some of my warmups! Prepping for a two day draw-a-thon!

[gleafer]

Helu!

Can I ask your Crowley from the Teach Me AU how he keeps his mohawk stiff and buoyant while using a helmet??

- A punk who bikes everyday and miss his mohawk 😔

Hello! That’s not mine, that’s @gahellhimself-blog Mohawk Crowley! Mine doesn’t know how to ride a motorcycle and would probably not wear a helmet if he did, much to Aziraphale’s chagrin.

Aziraphale hands Crowley a yellow helmet with daisies painted on it: “I simply must insist!…or no nookie.”

Crowley IMMEDIATELY puts helmet on.

[gleafer]

THIS IS A HOOT! Go play!

You know what we're gonna do, folks? We're going to write a self-insert fanfiction together with the Power of Polls. Just because it sounds like a fun time to me.

Do I have any Outline or Plan? No. Do I have any idea what I'm doing with this? No. Any clue what I'm unleashing here? No. What do I have? Heart?? And...the power of friendship probably.

Whatever. Let's do this.

*******(***

Dear Reader,

Whatever you, yes YOU, are doing in your life right now, is suddenly interrupted. The ground begins to rumble and the walls begin to melt. Are you sick? Are you dehydrated? Who knows. The ground groans and drops beneath your feet and you fall before you can do so much as scream.

You land arse-first, in a way that you really hope no one saw. Quick as you can, you scramble to your feet only to find...that you did, in fact, have an audience.

You are in Aziraphale's bookshop. A quick glance around tells you the situation. Four sets of dumbstruck eyes stare at you in surprise. Muriel from the bookshelves, Crowley from the chair at the desk, Aziraphale to your immediate left, and the Metatron to your immediate right. Metatron is holding the someone-forsaken coffee cup.

Right now, you are the only one with even the faintest idea what's going on, but it won't last.

[gleafer]

Helloooooo! *hello hello hello*

Anyone else not getting a lot of interaction lately? Is…is it me? *huffs in hand to check breath* Where’d everyone go? It can’t be me…I’ve been considerably less obnoxious. *sniffs armpit*

Hmmmmm. Imma post sumfin and see how far it gets. Did I get 🎶DUNDUNDUN🎶

SHADOWBANNED???????

IM JUST TRYING TO DO MY JOB HERE! -Beetlejuice, probably

Punk rock 80s Crowley says Hi

[gleafer]

HERE HE IS! THE CAN-CAN SNEK BOI!

I freaking LOVE the community at Reddit/GoodOmensAfterDark.

(The first is a gif but I just posted a screen grab because I’m bad at this.)

@ineffablecrankshaft

[gleafer]

I freaking LOVE the community at Reddit/GoodOmensAfterDark.

(The first is a gif but I just posted a screen grab because I’m bad at this.)

@ineffablecrankshaft