paperclipninja

[paperclipninja]

Did you read my Good Omens triathlon AU Coming in First?

Are you wondering what Ezra and Anthony have gotten up to since we last saw them?

If so, I've got good news! Riding out the Storm, a Coming in First sequel, is coming to AO3 in July 2025 (next month!).

Two years have passed, and Ezra and Anthony are doing great! Until life starts creeping in. Anthony is dealing with the stress of a merger at work when Ezra gets injured and is unable to train for the majority of triathlon season. Does their relationship have the foundation to withstand the stress of everyday life? 

OR

What happens when you take two people whose relationship is built on—and most of their free time is spent—working out together, and all of a sudden one of them is on the sidelines?

Subscribe to the Ineffable Triathletes series to be notified when it is posted.

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What I've Learned Writing My First Long Good Omens Fic

(and 2nd fic ever)

Writing is fattening. I've gained 5 pounds just from the increased sitting.

Beta readers are amazing! They give their free time to read early drafts and make them infinitely better.

And yet, as brilliant and helpful as a beta's comments are, it feels like a punch in the gut to see a page full of red marks.

It's far too easy to believe a beta has to take a break from reading because they can't stomach one more word of your awful writing instead of because they have, y'know, a life (school, work, kids, friends, hobbies, pets, community etc.)

Who are those brave writers who don't rely on betas at all? They're the equivalent of free climbers on el Capitan.

I love reading fics even more now that I know how difficult it is to write one.

Writers who post as they go without completing their fic first are fearless! And crazy! And fearless!

What's even crazier is that some of those write-as-they-go writers pull out the most amazing turns of phrase or emotional depths.

And what about writers working in their second (or third) language? They're so impressive.

Writing is lonely. I've become even more committed to leaving comments on WIPs understanding better how it might feel to spend months (or years) writing something while getting little feedback.

It's a fine line between feeling inspired by another writer and intimidated by their craft.

The hours I've enjoyed reading fics is the result of many more times the hours someone spent writing them. And finally, I've learned so much and gained fascinating insights reading fan fics. I hope my writing offers something special as well. Yep, I love a lovely spot of fluff. But even the fluffiest writing offers clever perceptions of people and the world. I'm grateful for the amazing writers, readers, and artists who make up the Good Omens fandom.

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love was the law, religion was taught.

and skin starts to rot.

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Annnnnnd some more mystery jizz! Up to chapter 10 now, it's chugging along!

A zillion thanks to @paperclipninja for beta and cheering, and @goodomensafterdark community for being a bunch of absolute lovelies.

Rating: E

Summary: Aziraphale is looking forward to a bit of peace and quiet at a countryside getaway, until an irritating stranger arrives. And then it all goes to shit.

CW/TW: Check tags - nothing specific for this chapter.

Excerpt under the cut.

“Is that… is that good?” Aziraphale asks. He’s not entirely certain that he’s doing it the way Crowley wants.

“Yeah—yeah, just maybe down a bit. Don’t strangle it, okay?”

“Yes, alright—like this?”

“That’s good. You’re doing wonderfully, angel.”

Aziraphale preens at the praise, although he hasn’t accomplished anything yet. Not really. But it’s a step in the right direction, at least. He tightens his grip a smidge, but tries to keep his wrists relaxed, just as Crowley showed him. And he focuses. He can do this. It’s not even that hard! He’s watched Crowley do it plenty, after all…

[paperclipninja]

The Season of Nightingales 🕊️ [PODFIC] - Chapter 10

Today’s Specials: Fluff and curious kissing adventures, followed by an ominous letter from a witch…

A post S2 plot-with-fluff, in which Aziraphale and Crowley explore ineffable affection while trying to save the world amidst unexpected friends, a guileful Metatron, and a Heavenly floor full of the Blessed Dead.

Rated: T | Playlist length: 5h 26 minutes

🎧Listen Here!

Chapter 10 - The Letters

“Can I… try something?” A nod came, slow but certain, as blue eyes stirred like a pond touched by the gentlest fingertip.  Crowley’s heart skipped a beat. He swallowed, apparently removing all the saliva in his mouth by doing so, and leaned forward again. A slender thumb reached up, taking Aziraphale’s mouth by a low corner, and pulled his lips to a slight part. 

🎧Listen to Chapter 10 Here!

Chapters post every Wednesday—but if you can’t wait, find the finished fic HERE!

Enormous thanks to @paperclipninja for this incredible theme music! (Follow Clip on SoundCloud and AO3!)

Massive hugs to @daneecastle for this masterpiece of a cover! (Support Danee on Patreon | Kofi | Insta!)

Undying love and devotion to my beta listeners, @firstvisittoearth @tansyogg and u/Glittering_Rock1665 from @goodomensafterdark !!

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Ah yes tumblrrr

Tumblr: *exists*

Damn I should feed you some time shouldn't I? 👀

Here, take this adorable fanatical vision of the irrepressible @trebol-negro, rendered by yours truly.

Gravity Omens? Ineffable Falls? Ineffeballs? Yes... Yes, Ineffeballs

Love and kisses,

Crank "I Ate'nt Dead" Shaft xoxo

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doodlin' during break at work, kindergarten pencils are Not easy to use actually

happy pride month!

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Oh my goodness, thank you so so much, ahhh!!!

Thank you for reading and leaving lovely comments and being such a wonderful supporter of writers 💛 Wow this has absolutely made my day/week/month 😊

WIP Wednesday - 6/18/2025 (Still We Know Each Other So Well by @paperclipninja)

This fic asks the provocative question: "what would happen if both Aziraphale and Crowley lost their memories?" And then answers it in the most delightful way. It starts with a meet-cute for our pair who are instantly drawn to each other. They become closer over time. But neither can explain the strange feeling of deja vu they sometimes experience.

I don't want to say too much because the joy of this fic is watching it unfold through the chapters. It's more than halfway posted and updating consistently.

I encourage you to check it out for yourself. Read the writer's summary and tags below. And show the writer (and all fic writers) some love through kudos, comments, and reblogs. We're in a community that needs nourishment to flourish.

Still We Know Each Other So Well (55359 words) by PaperclipNinja Chapters: 13/18 Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Muriel (Good Omens), Saraqael (Good Omens), Mr Brown (Good Omens), Nina (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Memory Loss, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Masturbation, Hand Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, First Time, Mutual Pining, Ineffable Dorks, Bookshop Owner Muriel (Good Omens), Happy Ending, Romantic Fluff, Pining, Intercrural Sex Summary: Before he could dwell any further, an apple appeared in front of Aziraphale’s nose, delicately dangling from a hand that drew Aziraphale’s eyes along an outstretched arm until he was looking up at the tall (he really was very tall) man hovering beside him. “This one nearly got away,” the man offered with a hint of amusement. His brow creased slightly as his mouth opened to say something else, before he apparently changed his mind and brought his lips back together. *** A few months ago, there was a comment on Tumblr that there are ponderings about what would happen if Aziraphale or Crowley's memory was wiped, but what if both their memories were wiped? This is a story of that what if.

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Episode 2 - The Distance That Unites or Divides

Shax has given Crowley the keys to his apartment back.

When he enters the house he smells it and remains for a moment on the threshold.

C: "Too much perfume, Shax. Too much perfume."

A soft red light infests the apartment, the curtains are drawn.

The silence is absolute.

The Bentley parked outside.

Crowley enters, takes off his glasses. His eyes, yellow and tired, stare into the void.

He then speaks to himself, ironically.

C: "Here we are. Free. Finally. Free as a snake in a grassless desert."

He snorts and paces back and forth.

An empty glass in hand.

He can't decide to fill it.

And he speaks as if Aziraphale were there.

C:"You know what, Aziraphale? It's not even that you got on that elevator. It's that you thought you had to do it alone. As if I were something to leave behind."

Crowley laughs bitterly.

C:"Or to protect me. Like a ficus."

He stops.

He puts his glass down on the table violently.

He opens a window and looks out.

Then slams it shut.

C:"I asked for privacy. And now I have it. But if I speak out loud, no one answers. Maybe... maybe a little too much privacy."

He sits on the couch.

He almost throws himself in.

With a snap of his fingers he starts a record, but quickly turns it off. Too cheerful.

He puts another one in. Too sad.

Too much of anything.

He keeps his eyes closed, leaning his head back on the black leather couch.

C:"I want to understand if I still want you. Or if I just want what we were before..."

Sighs.

C:"...before everything changed."

The lights of the city reflect in Crowley's apartment, but it's quiet.

Too quiet.

Crowley remains still, lost in the dangerous vortex of his thoughts.

Meanwhile, in Soho...

A warm, golden light envelops the bookshop. Dust dances in the air. Aziraphale enters, closes the door.

He inhales deeply, smells the paper and ink.

But something is different.

A(quietly):''Welcome home, Aziraphale."

He takes off his coat.

Hangs it up.

Straightens a crooked book, then another.

He looks around.

Everything in order.

Too much.

Time for something hot.

He puts the kettle on.

He picks up a cup.

He looks at it.

It's the one with the corgis.

A smile appears on his face.

Crowley had called it "unbearably English."

A(speaking softly, in the silence):" You told me we have to figure out what we want. I know I want you near. But I don't know if that's...right."

He continues to speak out loud, in the silence of the library, so much so that he loses his train of thought, then he shakes himself, as if to wake up.

A:"Maybe I should learn not to want you as a refuge, too. But as a choice."

Aziraphale remains there, standing, sipping tea, a tea that tastes of nothing, has no flavor.

His words disperse in the air like smoke.

Meanwhile at Crowley's house...

Crowley can't sleep properly, how could he after what happened, not only today, but also in the previous months.

He gets up, takes the keys and gets behind the wheel of the Bentley.

The car radio starts a song, it's sad but appropriate for the type of situation.

The song is Ease my mind.

The demon drives slowly through the deserted streets of London.

The song accompanies him on his aimless journey, the headlights cut through the fog.

Only the noise of the engine and the radio.

Glasses lowered.

The night is red with useless traffic lights.

Crowley remembers.

A thought.

A bitter smile.

A voice that isn't there.

FLASHBACK TO A TERRACE ON THE THAMES, LATE NIGHT...

Aziraphale and Crowley sitting on a low wall, both slightly drunk. Aziraphale is holding a bottle of wine. Crowley is smoking something unlikely and laughing, his head thrown back.

A(speaks, theatrically): "What if we left? We run away. You and me. Away. Somewhere else. No Heaven, no Hell."

C(chuckles): "Oh, angel... and where, excuse me? A castle in Scotland? Or the South of France?"

A(with a vaguely tragic smile): "I've always wanted to open a bookshop in Provence."

C(softly, suddenly serious): "I'd come."

Aziraphale laughs.

But Crowley looks at him for a long time, too long.

He doesn't laugh anymore.

RETURN TO REALITY...

Crowley grips the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles almost white.

The eyes become glossy.

He forces himself to talk to himself.

C: "You said it as a joke, but I... I really wanted it. Even if it was just for a moment. That "let's run away" was true...for me."

He passes by a street lamp where Aziraphale once leaned, drunk, asking for a hot dog from a garbage can.

He laughs.

A little.

But the smile doesn't hold.

Meanwhile, the night passes and a new sun rises.

IN SOHO...

The sunlight comes through the curtains. Aziraphale is in a dressing gown, with a book open in front of him.

He's not reading.

He's remembering.

FLASHBACK - INSIDE THE BOOKSTORE, CLOSING DAY

Aziraphale and Crowley are sitting on the floor between two rows of shelves.

A cup of cocoa for both of them, Crowley has a little whiskey added to his.

They talk a lot and laugh.

Their hands touch as they grab a fallen parchment.

C(smiling): "I admit, you have taste. This place is... bearable."

A(full of affection): "Did you really say that?"

C(slips into sincerity): "Only because you're here."

A: "Okay, no more alcohol in your chocolate from now on."

The hands still touch. But this time no one pretends it's a coincidence. They stay like that, looking at each other.

Aziraphale closes the book.

He runs his fingers over the cover as if it were living skin.

As if he had a memory.

A(quietly): "So many things we've said to each other... amid laughter."

He goes to the kitchen, puts the kettle on.

But he stops suddenly in front of the mug with "You Saucy Minx" written on it, an ironic gift from Crowley. He sighs.

A(smiling a little):"You understood everything before me. Didn't you? And I, like a fool, was left behind. But I'm trying to catch up with you."

CROWLEY'S APARTMENT...

Crowley has come home with the first light of dawn.

He is sitting on the floor, his back against the couch.

He is holding an old bottle with a handwritten label: "No side effects. Maybe."

It is heavenly alcohol, a gift from Aziraphale on a night when they had joked about it.

FLASHBACK - NIGHT, BEHIND THE BOOKSHOP...

It is raining.

But the two of them are there, under an oversized umbrella, completely drunk.

Crowley laughs so hard that he doubles over.

A(holding his back, laughing too):'You're... you're a walking disaster, Crowley."

C(pointing a finger at him, dead serious):'And you're... mine. Friend. Never leave me, angel. At least you."

A(a note of truth in his smile): "Never."

Crowley clutches the bottle.

He rests his forehead on his arms.

C(whispering, almost angrily): "You shouldn't have left me. Not... not really. Not for them."

And without a sound, he slips into tears.

It's not desperate, it's not theatrical.

It's a long, ancient pain.

Silent.

BOOKSHOP - LATE EVENING...

Aziraphale is standing in front of the mirror in the back room.

He's holding a bow tie.

He looks at it as if it were a relic.

It's the same bow tie that Crowley had fixed for him before a "mission" together.

The gesture had been almost funny.

FLASHBACK - INSIDE BOOKSTORE...

Aziraphale is trying to tie his bow tie.

Crowley looks at his watch and huffs, gets up and quickly fixes it.

But then he slows down.

Fingers graze Aziraphale's neck.

Their eyes meet.

C(soft): "Perfect."

A(swallowing nothing): "Thank you."

And then, after a moment, almost like a secret.

A: "I trust you..."

Aziraphale lets himself fall into the chair.

He brings his hands to his face.

The shoulders are shaking.

Tears are falling.

A(to himself): "I never told you how much...how much it meant to me to have you there. Always. With me."

He breathes, dries his eyes.

Look at the phone.

He takes it.

Hesitate.

He puts it down.

Then he picks it up again.

Then he puts it down again.

Crowley does the same.

Almost at the same time, they move.

Crowley picks up his phone.

He types.

Delete.

He types again.

Waits.

Then he types again.

It rings...

It rings...

It rings...

Aziraphale answers.

Crowley makes one of his jokes to break the silence.

C: "You put too much sugar in your tea, didn't you?"

He buries his head in the pillow right after saying it.

Aziraphale laughs softly, his eyes shining.

He answers.

A: "Just a teaspoon. Maybe two. Maybe four."

They both laugh.

The silence begins to break. To become less acute.

The thread is cast.

And on the other side, someone is holding the end.

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Had my tablet around 4 months now and went back to clean up my first sketch of the ineffable husbands I did on it. Always love a bit of intimacy, and Crowley bottoming from the top 😉

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Muriel: Ooooh!! I know what you're doing!! You're attempting to copulate!!! 👿: And, you!! just ruined the moment! Now, get out!! 😇: 😳😳😳😭😭😭 Poor Angel is mortified. 🤣🤣 ----- Clean image, without the speech bubble:

---- I love the idea that, at the end, Muriel decides to stay on Earth with Aziraphale and Crowley and ends up becoming their kind of adopted child, complete with classic childlike shenanigans like this one. 🤣🤣

---- @goodomensafterdark

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I thought it would be fun if i started drawing the ineffable husbands in famous paintings! i'm probably posting it weekly, on sundays (not sure tho)

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🥂As it should be🥂

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the two