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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna
lineffability

edgy-fluffball asked:

May I ask for a drabble of Aziraphale being introduced to Crowley's plants, please?

“This is… where you live?”

Aziraphale stood in the doorway with absolute horror in his eyes, a kind of horror that not even the Reign of Terror had been able to produce, perhaps because back then the promise of crêpes had cancelled out most of his brain functions. Reluctantly, he took a small step into the flat. Or warehouse. Bunker. Whatever this was. 

“Nope! Never seen this place before, actually. Just broke in for the fun of it; who needs permanent housing anyway? Where’s the fun in that?” When the expression of horror on the angel’s face only deepened, Crowley rolled his eyes behind his dark sunglasses. “Yes, angel, I live here.” 

“But… it’s dreadful!” Aziraphale cried, genuinely scandalized. 

Crowley grinned. “Why, thank you.”

“That’s, that’s not–oh, Crowley.” He sighed. 

Crowley snaked out of Aziraphale’s way as the angel cautiously foraged into the flat, as if treading on unholy ground. In a way he supposed he was, though the aesthetics of the place evoked not Hell, but another unearthly place, one he was all too familiar with. One he had tried very much to shut out of his own living space. 

The style, he believed, was called ‘minimalistic’: minimal furniture, minimal decoration, minimal love. Lots of empty space.

As Aziraphale walked along the narrow, grey corridor, he peeked through a half-open door to his right and caught a glimpse of green: a little houseplant, sitting forlornly on a table. He furrowed his brows, but walked on. 

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aurora-nova-fic gplusbfics

old-type-40 asked:

What if rather than an AU, Bashir had a Good Omens holosuite program? Bashir wants Garak to play as Crowley but Garak objects as to what Julian is implying by this.

tinsnip answered:

I’d enjoy the two of them picking the book apart as well. Garak doesn’t care for the humour but rather likes the message, although he doesn’t understand why it takes so many pages to state the obvious: God doesn’t exist, the whole thing’s a joke, Humans are ridiculous to believe it and should instead focus on improving the lot of other Humans and functioning as a single Union for the good of all.

Julian rubs his eyes. “I’m not quite sure that’s the message.”

“Well, what else could it possibly be?”

gplusbfics

Again: I don’t know much sbout Good Omens, but from what I know, this could be a hit with folks. Also, see my earlier post re who’s the Devil and who’s the angel.

aurora-nova-fic

Ooh, fic rec time!

Omens by PlotDotOh (TheCheerfulPornographer)

Julian and Garak discuss Good Omens.

ds9 fic rec
macpye

July, 1952.
Some islands were lying sleepily in the embrace of two river deltas merging into the North Sea on the West European coast.

Crowley had decided to, very, very slowly, start making his way to the Summer Olympics, but, as he was driving north from Calais, he’d found Aziraphale.

Well, not so much found, as “accidentally” run into him. Really, Crowley was a little bored with July, there wasn’t as much happening, not a lot of fomenting to do, so he thought he might was well find out what Azriaphale was off to do on his own, while he drove to Helsinki.

Two birds, one stone, sort of thing.

One of these things was definitely not an excuse to do the other.

Anyway.

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