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ineffablegame · 5 years

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“It’s over. They’re not going to hurt you again.” :3c

I’m sorry this got so long! Also at my Ao3.

Aziraphale is not, as a general rule, overly fond of children.

Oh, they’re wonderful, of course. They’re wonderful as a concept. Aziraphale may not be in Heaven’s best books, so to speak, but he still subscribes to their beliefs regarding children. ‘For the kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these children,’ ‘you are all children of God,’ ‘the riches inherited by God’s children,’ et cetera. Gabriel may have called Adam Young a brat, but Above is – at least officially – in favor of kids.

Broadly speaking, Aziraphale loves children. He’s an angel, after all. He loves everyone, and that includes children.

Less broadly – in the narrow confines of his beloved bookshop, for example – Aziraphale is happy to keep them at a distance. So, when the Them show up at the front door on a cool, crisp day in late October, the angel is understandably alarmed.

“Hullo,” says Adam Young. He holds the lead for Dog, who stands stock-still beside him, eyes flashing incarnadine. Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale flank him.

Aziraphale fends off a full-body shudder with every scrap of angelic willpower he can muster. Adam Young may be a normal boy at heart, but the rest of him remains very much the occult equivalent of ten million nuclear warheads. The intensity of his focus is unsettling.

“A-ah,” the angel stammers. “Adam Young. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Is that him?” Pepper demands. She eyes Aziraphale, lip curling. “He doesn’t look like a demon.”

“I never said he was the demon,” Adam replies. “He’s the demon’s friend.”

“Actually, I don’t think demons can have friends,” says Wensleydale. “Because they’re evil.”

“Yeah.” Brian wipes a mud stain – the origin of which is a mystery – on his shirt. His eyes widen and he grins. “Maybe he’s possessed by the demon?”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s quite the case,” Aziraphale fumbles. He does wish the children would quiet down a little. If Crowley hears them speculating about who’s possessing who, he’ll never let Aziraphale hear the end of it. “You’re… looking for Crowley?”

“Uh-huh.” Adam angles his gaze past Aziraphale, into the near-empty bookshop. “He’s here, right? We need to ask him for advice.”

“Whatever could you need—” Aziraphale begins, only to fall silent as a familiar demonic presence crowds his senses. He turns and sees Crowley sauntering toward him.

“Angel, there’re a pair of tourists looking quite keen about the Ian Fleming books,” he says. “I’d get them to clear out if I were you. I keep telling you, move the Bond books to storage. You might think they’re drivel, but they have some serious—”

Crowley looks back toward Aziraphale and catches sight of the Them. He draws up short. “Oh! Uh. Hey, um, kids.”

Pepper looks even less impressed than before. “This is him? Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Adam strolls past Aziraphale into the bookshop with Dog and the Them in tow. Aziraphale watches the procession pass in bewilderment.

Pepper cuts straight to the point. “We need you to teach us how to be devils.”

Crowley darts his eyes from the Them to Aziraphale and back. “Um. What?”

“For Halloween,” Adam clarifies. “We’re going as devils. But we don’t know how to act properly evil, so I thought, why not ask a real-life devil?”

“M’a demon, actually,” Crowley mumbles, apparently immune to the irony of Adam’s statement. He considers the Them, head cocked. Then, much to Aziraphale’s horror, he nods. “Yeah, all right. Why not.”

“Why not?” Aziraphale echoes. “My dear, surely you can’t be—” He freezes when Adam turns and pins him with a speculative look. Mellowing, the angel stammers, “W-well, perhaps if you took your… er, tutelage outside…”

Adam shrugs. “I dunno. I think right here is fine.” He looks around the shop. “Seems to me that you spend a lot of time here. Might help you teach us better in your nat’ral environment, right?”

Aziraphale directs a withering look at Crowley, who averts his gaze. “Uh. I guess.”

“I really think…” Aziraphale trails off; he knows when a battle is lost. He threads his fingers together, knuckles white. “Please be careful of the books. They are quite valuable.”

He spins around and stalks toward the counter, intent on taking his wrath out on the first customer to cross him.

The next hour is an exercise in tolerance. Crowley gets right down to the business of teaching the Them how to be proper demons, his gusto belying the apologetic glances he keeps shooting Aziraphale’s way. From what the angel can gather in his covert eavesdropping, demonic work mostly amounts to being a nuisance.

“Another good—er, bad act of evil is never replacing the loo roll,” Crowley says. “That one’s a sure-fire win. Never fails to drive the humans mad.”

“I do that already,” Brian says proudly. “And I never flush.”

Crowley winces. “Yeah, you’re a proper demon, all right.”

“This is boring,” Pepper says. “Don’t you do real evil stuff? Like, killing people and all that?”

“There’s more to being evil than killing people,” Crowley says with startling patience.

“I don’t see why you want to celebrate Halloween at all,” Aziraphale says, stopping by their gathering with an armful of books – a clever pretext on his part, if he may be so bold. “It’s only a new-fangled American holiday.”

“Actually, you can’t own a holiday,” says Wensleydale. “America doesn't own Halloween. Holidays are for everyone. As long as they’re not religious.”

Aziraphale is sorely tempted to tell the little know-it-all to shove it, but Adam Young’s focus hones in on him with hawkish intensity, so he restrains himself. “Of course,” he says coldly.

Brian plucks a book off the shelf and leafs through the pages. “Is folding the corners demonic? My parents hate it when I do that.”

“Ye—no,” Crowley says, catching Aziraphale’s warning glare. “Nah, s’not really evil. Nope.”

Adam glances between the angel and demon. “Sounds right.”

Pepper looks at the book in Brian’s hand with disdain. “Ugh. Peter Pan is so sexist.”

Aziraphale’s temper slips its bonds. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a children’s book.”

“It is!” Pepper counters. “It’s all boys doing the fun stuff and Wendy has to be like their mum! And Tiger Lily—”

“What about this?” Brian says, clearly still stuck on demonic acts against literature. He jams one finger up his nose and pulls it out, a yellow-green gobbet clinging to the dirty nail. Then, much to Aziraphale’s horror, he smears the bogie on the inside cover of a first-edition Peter Pan.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale chokes. He’s never fainted in his entire existence, but there’s a first time for everything.

Crowley, much to his credit, keeps a flimsy veneer of composure as he swipes the book from Brian’s hands. “Books really aren’t the way to go,” he says. Aziraphale feels the fabric of the universe pop a stitch and re-knit as the bogie dissolves into nothingness. “Not enough people care about them. The effect isn’t widespread.”

“Not enough—” Aziraphale sputters, indignant, only to stop dead when he sees Dog sniffing a shelf with Intent. “Adam, dear boy, if you could please take, ah, Poochie outside, I would appreciate it ever so much…”

Adam considers the former hellhound. “Think I’ll keep him with me, thanks. He’s not used to the big city.”

“There’s a fenced-in yard outside,” Aziraphale says, a trifle desperately. There wasn’t one a moment ago, and miracling around the logistics of Soho was a trial, but the angel is growing more and more desperate. “Surely it needs to relieve itself?”

“Nah,” says Adam. “He’s properly trained. He won’t make a mess.”

In a feat of truly miraculous timing, Dog cocks a leg and wees on the shelf. Aziraphale’s heartbeat slams in his temples. Dumping his books on the nearest open shelf, he hurries over to the little beast, waving his hands at it. “Oh, for pity’s sake!”

“Got it,” Crowley says quickly. He miracles the puddle out of existence with a snap of his fingers. “See? Not a stain, angel.”

“Cor!” Brian is amazed. “Can you show us how to do that?”

“Actually, I don’t think we can,” says Wensleydale. “On account of we’re not real demons.”

“Shoo!” Aziraphale hisses at Dog. “Shoo, you—you little mongrel!”

“Hey,” Adam says, and while his tone is mild, the rumble of irritation that sweeps through the bookshop is not. Aziraphale should heed it, really he should, but he can’t stand idly by while children run riot and infernal dogs eject fluids in his shop. He waves his hands closer at Dog, intent on fending him off. Dog’s lips peel back in a snarl.

Crowley’s voice is strained. “Angel—”

Too late. Aziraphale shrieks as Dog’s teeth sink into his hand, flowering fires of pain. He yanks his hand back and clutches it to his chest. Dog growls, eyes glittering red.

“I’m sorry,” Adam hastens to say. “I didn’t think he’d do that.”

“Actually, Mr. Fell,” says Wensleydale, “it was a defense mechanism. Little dogs like Dog have a high prey drive and you got into his space. Actually, you should have known not to do that, because growling is a warning that…”

“Ugh!” On the other side of the shop, Pepper tosses a book to the floor in disdain. “The Iliad is even worse than Peter Pan! My mum says…”

“Look at this, Mr. Crowley!” Brian calls. “See that book, with the fancy cover? I bet I can hit it from all the way across the room!” He hawks deep in his throat.

Aziraphale has never killed anything before, but, frantic, furious, and helpless, he suddenly sees the appeal of cold-blooded murder. “That’s quite enough of that!”

The Them ignore him, and several things happen in swift succession. Dog squats on the floorboards. Pepper pulls a copy of The Odyssey from the shelf. Wensleydale keeps talking. Brian spits a wad of saliva and phlegm.

The few remaining customers vanish, dispatched outside the shop with no memory of the past few minutes. A blazing white light erupts from Aziraphale and floods the room to press, incandescent, against the dust-coated windows. The dowdy, bookish angel suddenly looms, menacing and full of holy wrath, flaming sword raised to strike. His eyes glow with the searing heat of Heavenly justice. Crowley cowers behind the nearest shelf; Dog cowers behind Adam’s legs; the Them stare, spellbound. Brian’s loogie evaporates with a hiss like grease on hot metal.

“THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH OF THAT,” Aziraphale says. His voice resonates, multiplied and overlayed like a screaming horde of berserkers. “STEP AWAY FROM THE BOOKS, PLEASE.”

The Them obey. They cluster around Adam, eyes wide, mouths ajar.

“NOW.” Aziraphale sweeps the flaming sword toward the door, which obediently flies open. “GET. OUT. OF MY BOOKSHOP.”

The Them look to Adam, who nods. “Yeah. C’mon, I think we learned enough.” He leads them to the open door, ushers them out. He gives the angel and the demon a thoughtful look. “Sorry. I’ll leave you two alone now.”

He leaves. The door snaps shut behind them, locks clanking into place. Aziraphale sags as the holy wrath leaves him, his sword – a mere illusion – melting into the air. He feels ready to burst into tears. Or to smite something. He hasn’t decided which.

“Angel.” Crowley’s voice is gentle, the tone one might use to soothe a wild creature. “They’re gone. It’s over. They’re not going to hurt you again.”

Aziraphale wraps his arms around himself. “Don’t tease.”

“Sorry.” Crowley slinks closer, still wary. “Gosh. I thought your lot were all for suffering the little children.”

Aziraphale sniffles. “Well, my dear, I c-could only suffer so much.”

“Ah, angel. There, there.” Crowley’s tone is sneering, but the concern in his eyes is genuine. “Let me see.”

“Wh-what?”

“Your hand. That little beast got you good, didn’t he?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale holds out his trembling hand. “I-I suppose it did.”

Crowley’s fingers enfold him, delicate but sure. Aziraphale stares at the floorboards as his vision swims and the demon presses gentle touches to the bite marks. “Didn’t break the skin, but might as well…”

Aziraphale swallows thickly. The pain evaporates in prickling warmth. “Thank you.”

“Nnh. No problem.” A beat. “I’m sorry. For letting them stay in the shop.”

“We didn’t have a choice, really,” the angel mutters.

“I don’t know. Adam Young’s not all bad.”

Aziraphale mangles a laugh. “I suppose not. For an Antichrist.”

“Aziraphale…”

“I hate them, Crowley.”

“You’re an angel. You don’t hate anything.”

“But they’re so loud! And messy! And annoying!”

“They’re kids. Trust me, adults are loads worse.”

Aziraphale sighs and wipes his eyes with one hand. Despite having healed the bite, Crowley still holds his other hand, and he is reluctant to take it back. “Oh, I know, dear boy. Please don’t think less of me for it, my nerves are just so…”

“Don’t worry,” Crowley says. “Tell you what. Let’s close up shop and open up that Talisker you’ve got squirreled away, yeah? The eighteen-year one.”

Aziraphale gives him a watery smile. “My dear, that would be wonderful.”

They close the shop. As Aziraphale locks the front door, another miracle sings through the air, a plucked harp string vibrating through reality. He blinks, unlocks the door, and opens it. A new sign has appeared.

‘No dogs allowed.’

The angel closes the door and locks it again. He turns, beaming. Crowley smiles back.

That Halloween, the Them go trick-or-treating as angels.

#flipwizardmcgay #good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens fanfic #word prompt #long post

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gideonthefirst · 4 years

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So I am racing to catch up on naddpod and. The amount I love for the band of boobs only grows. And I miss my wife apple scrumper

I LOVE that for you what episode are you on!!

#asks #flipwizardmcgay #naddpod blogging

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cloudmancy · 4 years

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*persona knowlege awakens* fig is the Tower: Sudden change, upheaval, chaos, revelation, awakening. Adaine is the high priestess: Intuition, sacred knowledge, divine feminine, the subconscious mind. Gorgug is the chariot: Control, willpower, success, action, determination and Riz is justice: Justice, fairness, truth, cause and effect, law

Really interesting, thank you! I’ll take a look into these tomorrow.

#asks #tarot #flipwizardmcgay

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elveny · 5 years

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Fic or Treat 2019

This is my Fic or Treat story for @flipwizardmcgay featuring her Warden Alex Cousland 🎃 I do hope you like it! Have a GREAT Halloween! ♥

“No, stop.”

The group came to a halt, and Alex threw Morrigan a confused look. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as far as the Warden could see, and judging from the looks the others exchanged, neither could they. The trees stretched on both sides of the small road they had followed for the last three days already, the autumn air crisp and silent leaves falling. It was late afternoon already and the evening stretched foggy fingers through the woods that crawled over the ground towards them. Through the trees, they could see a few rocks covered by moss; all that remained of what looked like a collapsed structure.

Alistair rolled his eyes and scoffed as he saw Morrigan take her staff and look around cautiously.

“What now? Another feeling that you— ouch!” He jerked back as the witch zapped him slightly, her golden eyes throwing daggers at him.

“’Tis not a mere feeling, Alistair,” she said stiffly. “There has been a great evil here, and its echo linger still. Something is out there.”

For a moment, the group fell silent, Alistair rubbing at his elbow with an offended look where her electric spark had hit him. Only the wind could be heard as it picked up, sending a gush of coldness through them. The leaves rustled ominously, and a strange clattering made them look up.

“Wind chimes,” Wynne said softly. A sense of relief spread through them, and Leliana let out an audible breath.

“What’re wind chimes?” Oghren asked, drawing his eyebrows together in confusion.

It was Leliana who answered. “Oh, of course, you wouldn’t have them below,” she smiled. “They’re a sort of musical instrument, in a sense. Hung outside where the wind can play them.”

Oghren grunted and squinted at the chimes hung in the trees above that clattered ominously. “Doesn’t sound like music to me,” he grumbled.

“Hm, yes,” Zevran agreed, tilting his head as he followed the dwarf’s eyes. “But then, they’re not normally made from bones, no?”

Leliana and Wynne both drew in a sharp breath, and even Sten shifted his weight with a look of discomfort as he eyed the thin, bleached bone chimes above.

Morrigan ignored the chatter and took another few steps away from the group. Alex followed her, one hand on a dagger and looked around. The twilight beneath the trees had deepened, but apart from the falling leaves, nothing moved in the deepening shadows.

“I don’t see anything, Morrigan,” she said after a moment of tense silence, “and I don’t sense any darkspawn either. Are you sure there is—“

She was interrupted by a little squeal as Leliana nearly jumped a step forward. Immediately, the whole group drew their weapons, the shimmer of a barrier springing into life around them at a gesture by Wynne.

Leliana had a hand on her neck as she swirled around with wide eyes. “Something touched me!” she hissed, reaching for her bow, but before she could string an arrow, Oghren let out a loud laugh.

“You should have seen your face! Got you good, this time.”

A collective groan made its way through them as they put their weapons away. Alistair gave Oghren a cuff on the back of his head as he walked by him to come and stand next to Alex with a shake of his head.

“So, what you say, camp over by the rocks?” he asked, standing just a little bit too close for it to be casual.

Morrigan rolled her eyes at the way Alex’s smile softened slightly, but then a thought came to her, and suddenly, she was tense again.

“I remember now,” she said, looking over to the moss-covered fallen-in cairn. “We can’t stay here.”

“Why, because of the chimes?” Alistair asked, looking up into the trees with a frown. “I admit, they sound creepy, but don’t tell me you’re afraid of them.” A teasing grin came onto his lips. “Don’t worry, Morrigan. I can cut them down for you.” He leaned forward with a conspiratorial look. “I won’t even tell the others, promise.”

Alex elbowed him into the side with a chiding look, but he didn’t seem bothered.

But for once, Morrigan paid him no heed and shook her head. “’Tis not the chimes, Alistair. But my mother told me about this place.” Her voice took on a dark note, and she conjured a flame in her hand against the deepening darkness that had started to fall. “A long time ago, ’tis was a holy place for the Chasind — until the Chantry, in a try to convert them, slaughtered hundreds of shamans and holy women at this place.” She looked at the rocks with a strained expression on her face. “Their spirits still haunt this place, and the wind carries their screams still. We cannot linger here.”

As if to underline her words, the wind picked up, and the clattering of the chimes above intensified. Leliana had come to stand next to Morrigan, and a shiver went over her. “Those poor souls,” she said softly, looking towards the rocks.

Behind her, Wynne let out an annoyed sound. “Oghren, stop it. Once was quite enough!”

They turned to look at her and saw her rub a hand over her neck, just like Leliana had done. Her eyebrows were drawn together as she searched for Oghren.

“I didn’t do nothing,” the dwarf grunted from the other side of their group, and Wynne’s eyes widened. Zevran, who stood next to Wynne, held up both hands.

“Don’t look at me,” he said, shaking his head. “I would never.”

Leliana and Alistair exchanged a look that held more alarm than either of them would admit to, then Alistair straightened. “Right,” he said, nodding vigorously, one hand on his sword as he looked at his Grey Warden companion. “Alex. Shall we move on?”

Morrigan gave him a look, and the corner of her lip curled slightly. “Who’s afraid now, Alistair? Want me to cut those chimes for you?”

Alistair bristled immediately. “Hey, I’m —“

Alex sighed, then she interrupted them before they started to squabble — again. “Let’s move on,” she said in the voice that everybody knew and that didn’t allow for disagreement. “And nobody touches those chimes, alright?”

As the night deepened and the shine of the torches flickered over the trees, the clattering of the chimes disappeared behind them, but the feeling of being watched lingered even as the wind stopped. She did not tell the others about the feeling of a cold hand touching her neck as they went past the rocks.

#fic or treat 2019 #fic or treat #flipwizardmcgay #dao #elveny writes #dragon age #halloween #ghost stories #this was inspired by a local haunted place where such a massacre took place #enjoy ;)

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crybabyjustice · 4 years

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@fitofpaige17 replied to your post “I am currently writing a certain scene in the narumitsu hunter fic...”

When in doubt.... BONE XD

@flipwizardmcgay replied to your post “I am currently writing a certain scene in the narumitsu hunter fic...”

BOOOONE

Yeah, you’re probably right!!

@takes-one-to-no-one-cares replied to your post “I am currently writing a certain scene in the narumitsu hunter fic...”

Big fan of the slow burn, but that’s just me. Whatever you write is going to be amazing!!

Typically so am I, but in this fic they’re kinda already together(ish? You’ll see what I mean when it goes up), so I figured might as well, y'know? Also, awwww shucks! Thank you ;;;;;;

#fitofpaige17 #flipwizardmcgay #takes-one-to-no-one-cares #Hunter AU #ITWWEYCHR #Things involving Phoenix

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bigdickmadej · 5 years

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You guys have such a Thing for other demons and spooky beings riling up Demon Shane to the point he wants to mark his territory while Ryan is just like, ???? “alright, let’s fuck”, and I love it.

So, like-- Ryan has known what Shane is for a while, maybe even longer than they have been together, and he knows Shane would never let something happening to him and yet, the second he feels pretty much a hand on his side, he jumps and yells.

They are in their solo time and he doesn’t want to be so whiny, even though he knows Shane heard him, 100% sure of that. Still, he tries his best to keep it together, but when the thing keeps touching him, he just wishes his time was up.

Overall, he did kinda good in hiding his fear, but not to Shane. When the demon looks at him after calling his time up, Ryan knows he’s gonna hear a rant later that night. It doesn’t truly matter when the big guy just hugs him a little, is the most they do in front of the camaras.

“Something’s here isn’t it?” Ryan asks later when they are alone.

Shane only smiles a thim and shakes his head, which means something is there in the shadows and Ryan feels like if he’s gonna pee his pants. His boyfriend helds him in the dark, and Ryan knows tomorrow will be another, “who knows what happened at night! the cameras went off by themselves or something!” kind of day.

It’s fine, though. As long as he can keep this feeling of not being alone, of being protected, he is okay with it.

When Shane starts kissing his neck and tickle him slightly, he doesn’t think much of it but smiles as the demon keeps kissing his skin, telling how brave he was today and how much he loves him, and wants him safe and okay. It’s nice, and when it turns into something else, well Ryan is def not complaining.

Getting well fucked on location is not as common as one may think, and that day Ryan was totally in the mood for it, kissing back, biting and pulling, just as desperate to take off Shane’s clothes and fuck each other silly.

It’s only until Shane is fucking onto him with so much force, when he feels like if he’s being splitted in half, that Ryan listens to Shane’s dirty talk and realizes he’s being marked.

And hey, who told his dick this was hot? But like many times before, Ryan stops questioning his own kinks and just enjoys the way he’s being claimed Shane’s, the way the man keeps kissing and marking his skin with please of MineMineMineMineMine with eyes that have changed color and nature, body that keps becoming something else, voice that sounds so different from time to time.

When Ryan comes, Shane’s big smile makes him shiver. His response to Shane’s want and possessivenes finally makes it for him and Shane comes all over his stomach. It’s a different kind of marking, but holy shit, getting this dirty in a place that should make him feel like daying, knowing well his boyfriend won’t let anything happen to him? Shit.

Shane cuddles him to sleep, and keeps saying sweet nothings all the while he falls asleep, and damn-- Ryan has never slept this well in a place like this.

His demon boy just smiles and kisses his forehead the next morning after Ryan tells him, not knowing the kind of show they gave the fucking incubus Shane keeps eying from time to time. And hey, dating Ryan must be making him softer, because in another time he would had just killed them for even glancing at his human.

#shyan #skeptic believer #buzzfeed unclean #demon shane #flipwizardmcgay #nini got mail #au time with nonnies #aus #possessive shane #my aus #mine

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