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

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna
marveliciousfanace

Anonymous asked:

Crowley and Zira either having too much pda or bickering as a tactic to scare away a potential book buyer

I fried my brain doing this and the other prompt I was sent, so they’re not edited and I apologize if it’s garbage, but I actually had a ton of fun with this, so thank you. I went with the pda option, so people may want to skip this one if they don’t want to read slightly mature content (but not very mature. Crowley certainly isn’t).

—

“He won’t go away!”

“Well, hello to you too, angel,” Crowley said, his grin audible even over the phone.

Aziraphale peered over his counter, where he’d been pretending to rummage for something, and glared at the offending man, who was currently eyeing a shelf of very expensive – and more importantly very rare – first edition playscripts with the air of someone who is looking for a price tag because they don’t want to seem caught out by the number when they purchase it. “He’s been here ages already,” Aziraphale hissed into the receiver. “Normally they would have given up by now, but he won’t go away.”

“Have you tried that thing you do where you breathe down his neck looking like a stern librarian?”

“Naturally,” Aziraphale sniffed. He knew how to run his own bookshop. “He just started asking me questions about different manuscripts! I’ve resorted to hidin- er, tactically surveying from behind the counter so he doesn’t keep trying to speak to me. He’s after the Wilde, I know he is.”

“You have plenty of Wilde,” Crowley said, with only a trace of bitterness. Oscar was a still a bit of a sore subject between the two of them. “Anyway, what are you suggesting I do?”

“I don’t know!” Aziraphale huffed. He peeked over the counter again. The would-be customer was running a finger along the shelves, like he had any right to touch them. Aziraphale resisted the very un-angelic temptation to snarl. “Just…come over and help me! Please!”

There was a pause as Crowley contemplated. Aziraphale prepared to resort to begging. He didn’t usually have to with Crowley, but needs must. In this case, however, needs didn’t, and Crowley finally said, “I’ll be over in a few.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale sighed in relief, even as the receiver went dead. He snaked a hand up onto the counter to replace it, and decided the next few minutes – it wouldn’t take Crowley long to get there, no matter where he was in London, what with the way he drove – would be best spent under the counter. If Aziraphale made eye contact with the potential customer, he knew it would all be over.

He popped up when he heard the tinkle of the bell, relief flooding through his body as Crowley strolled into the shop, the door swinging shut behind him. He looked around leisurely, gaze pausing momentarily on the man, who stared back at him nervously, likely put out by Crowley’s dark glasses and general “no-good” vibe. Then Crowley’s gaze fell, very naturally, on Aziraphale. He brightened so realistically that even Aziraphale was impressed with his acting abilities. “Angel!” he exclaimed. “God, it’s been ages!”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, a slight crease furrowing his brow. What he meant to say was, “What do you mean, it’s been ages? I just saw you last week for dinner. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already. And it’s not like we don’t speak regularly on the phone. Unless you’re trying to make a scene, which I suppose is the more likely option, in which case ignore all that and I’ll play along, so long as it gets rid of him.”

What he actually said was, “Wha-mphf!”

Crowley had made it to the counter in two strides, hopped up over it in one bound, landed solidly on his feet on the other side, pushed the angel back against the wall with the skilful application of a hand on either hip, and crashed their lips together. That accounted for the initial sound Aziraphale made. The rather embarrassing moan that followed was caused by a very long, very flexible tongue sliding itself into Aziraphale’s open mouth and doing that thing, which he had once told Crowley, with no small amount of blushing, made making an effort redundant. In this particular moment, had Crowley not been holding him up, Aziraphale would have slid bonelessly to the floor. As it was, he was abruptly very weak in the knees.

Crowley moaned theatrically, sliding his hands a little farther back. “Fuck, I missed you, angel,” he said, loud enough that the man in the shop, who’d been pretending he hadn’t noticed what was going on behind the counter, couldn’t help but turn and look. Crowley pressed himself more firmly to Aziraphale’s front, sliding a knee between the angel’s legs and biting a careful row of kisses down his neck. “Did you miss me?”

“I- uh- oh-“ Aziraphale stuttered, his fingers clutching at a fistful of Crowley’s hair. His head fell back against the shelf behind him with a loud thunk.

“Mmm,” Crowley purred. “I think you did. I think you’re happy to see me. Unless that’s something else you’ve got in your pocket. Naughty, angel.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale managed to form the word, and it even manged to almost sound scolding.

“That’s right,” Crowley nipped at an earlobe. “Say my name, angel. Bet I can make you scream it right here, bend you over the counter and-“

“Crowley!” Aziraphale said again, this time with much less difficultly and a good deal more shock. “We are not alone!”

Crowley pulled back just far enough to grin at him. “Aren’t we, though?”

Aziraphale blinked. He looked around the bookshop. It was empty. The bell, which he hadn’t heard go off, was swinging to a silent stop above the door. “Oh,” he said.

“You asked for help,” Crowley said. “I provided.”

“Yes, but…” Aziraphale trailed off. “Er, Crowley?”

“Yes, angel?”

“Your hands…if you could kindly remove them from my trousers-“

Crowley gave Aziraphale’s arse another squeeze. “You sure you want me to? I mean, he is gone and all.”

“Er…”

“And I did save your precious Wilde, didn’t I?”

“Yes, I suppose you did…”

“So,” Crowley wiggled his eyebrows. “What do you say you lock the door, and I do that other thing with my tongue that you like so much, hmm?”

Across the room, the lock clicked shut, and with a laugh, Crowley dropped to his knees.

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marveliciousfanace

Anonymous asked:

for the az/Crowley fic thing, a situation where Crowley stays in snake form and it annoys Aziraphale for a while but then has Crowley scare people out of his bookshop or something. idk. good luck with your main writing thing too by the way :-)

Thank you :). I apologize if this ficlet got a little messy; it’s late here and my brain stopped functioning properly. I hope you like it, because I had a good time working with it. Hope it’s not too ooc.

—

He had turned up that morning, quite out of the blue, and stationed himself on one of the tables (the one with the small but surprisingly bright reading lamp). He had also, in spite of Aziraphale’s continued cajoling, pleading, and eventually begging, refused to leave. This was new territory for Aziraphale. Prior to the Apocalypse, he didn’t think he’d ever had to even ask Crowley to let him be, other than hinting at it passively. But this was a new world, after all, and after the fire in the bookshop and the terror and upset Crowley had grudgingly admitted to feeling when he’d thought Aziraphale might be dead, the angel was a little more willing to cut the demon some slack when it came to hanging about.

Of course, when Crowley usually decided to hang about, he chose to do it in human form.

A long black snake lay coiled on Aziraphale’s table. It appeared to be sleeping, although every so often it would open one yellow eye to watch Aziraphale’s movements around the shop. Crowley could be all sizes, when he wanted to, and on the occasions when Aziraphale had interacted with Crowley in this form, he was more used to dealing with the garden-snake variety. A little thing, the right size to drape around your shoulders, if he promised not to be a nuisance. This was not that. Today, for whatever reason, Crowley had decided to be on the upper end of boa constrictor. As an angel, Aziraphale was strong, but he was also a bit uncoordinated, and scooping up that much snake and depositing him elsewhere would have been decidedly difficult. So Aziraphale worked around him.

It was irritating. Crowley’s bulk spilled over the edges of the table, his tail stretching out to trip Aziraphale when he walked past. He kept squirming, and had several times knocked over the lamp, forcing Aziraphale to catch it before it hit the floor, and had with a flick of his tail threatened teasingly to do it to whatever bookshelves he could reach as well. He kept yawning and grinning at Aziraphale, happy to be in his way and a bother.

Aziraphale was not happy. He didn’t always mind Crowley’s little tricks – they got on each other’s nerves occasionally, sure, but that was what friends (lovers? Six-thousand-year-old-romantic-partners?) did. They never really meant it. It was all in jest. But Aziraphale wasn’t in a teasing mood this morning. Heaven had tried to get into contact with him, and he was resolutely trying to ignore their increasingly insistent ploys. He was in no mood to deal with anyone, much less the serpent.

When Crowley nearly tripped him for the fifth time that morning, Aziraphale lost his temper. He did not shout. Shouting was not in his nature. But his voice got very cold and very low, and his eyes grew very hard. “Get out, now.”

Crowley blinked. Then he blinked again. Aziraphale glared at him. “I have been patient with you, but I cannot take it anymore. I had a truly awful night and I do not need you getting in my way and making…making a mess out of things. If all you’re going to do is cause trouble for me, then you can get out of my shop.”

The snake curled in on himself. Coiled tightly, he surveyed Aziraphale from behind his mass, as if trying to decide if he was serious or not. Aziraphale’s eyes narrowed further, and Crowley decided he was. He slunk from the table, sliding down onto the floor like a tear rolling down a cheek and spilling onto the ground. He glanced up at Aziraphale, who forced his expression not to waver. He pointed towards the door.

When Crowley did not leave, but curled himself up in a tight ball under a table in the farthest back corner of Aziraphale’s shop, the angel decided that was fair. Reptiles, as a general rule, are not the most expressive of animals, but whether because Crowley was not actually a snake or simply because Aziraphale had know him for six millennia, Aziraphale could feel the guilt dripping off the demon. He went back to shelving and did his best not to look in that direction.

He almost managed to forget about the whole thing until a young couple wandered in. Aziraphale liked young couples anywhere but inside his bookshop. Outside it, he smiled fondly at shy new lovers sharing looks over dessert plates or holding hands. Inside it, he glared. They had a tendency to wander in, thinking exploring an antique bookshop made a charming date activity, and generally getting very put out – and on occasion even angry - when Aziraphale told them the price for whatever particular rare poetry book they happened to have selected.

This particular couple did not need so much as a haughty cough to be encouraged to leave. They headed back, giggling, towards the poetry section. Then the giggling turned into a shriek of horror, morphing itself into the word “Snake!” And they were gone, bolting from the bookshop.

Aziraphale flipped the sign to closed and approached the back corner. Crowley gave him a shy smile, still lodged under the table but now a bit puffed up, like he’d been posturing to strike.

“Did you do that on purpose?” Aziraphale asked. “Because you know I don’t like couples in here?”

The snake winked.

Aziraphale got down onto the floor, folding himself into a sitting position. “I’m sorry,” he said, “about earlier. I was upset. Admittedly, you were being a nuisance, but I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

Crowley slithered out from under the table and draped himself, to the best of his ability, over Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale stroked his scales. “It’s Heaven,” he said with a sigh. “They have me in a right state. I expect they’ll be trying to recall me back from earth soon.”

Crowley shuddered. Aziraphale’s hand stopped stroking and rested there. “Is that why you’re here?” he asked tentatively. “Has Hell been trying to call you back too?”

A nod.

Aziraphale resumed the petting motion, and Crowley relaxed again. “It’ll be alright,” the angel said. “For both of us.”

He didn’t know if he believed that. But believing it was a lot better than the alternative.

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riddleblack246

Aziraphale is a fan of shelled nuts and Crowley is catering to the point that he removes the shells from them for his angel boyfriend because he doesn’t want to mess up his manicure until one day, in the year of our lord 2019, Crowley just freezes and screams “THEY SELL THEM WITHOUT THE FUCKING SHELLS” and Aziraphale just starts snort laughing - not only because it took him so long to realize, but also because they’re ethereal fucking entities and could just make the nuts appear in whatever manner they want.

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fuckyeahgoodomens
youtube.com

Neil Gaiman on how he will remember Terry Pratchett

Neil Gaiman recalls one of his favorite moments with Terry Pratchett. To watch the full conversation: https://youtu.be/oeyjn3EaHAM Join the conversation on T...

The Good Omens bit :):

… and the interviewer had not actually read the book, he was just trying interview us having read the press stuff, so when we started telling him about Agnes Nutter - he said the book’s called Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, who’s Agness Nutter? We started explaining that there was this seventeenth century witch who all of her predictions were true, you know, that her prediction for 1981 was ‘Do not buy Betamax’. He did not realize that this was fictional. And we were talking to him and we realized that he had not read the book so we were talking about that, and the engineers in the control room behind the glass panel who we could see ‘cause we were facing them and he could not were lying on their backs kicking their legs…

The whole thing is brilliant. Listen :). I really hope this interview is recorded somewhere and will someday become available to hear! ❤ 

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queensabriel

Michael Sheen: “It was easier for me because I decided that early on that Aziraphale just loves Crowley. And that’s difficult for him because they’re on opposite sides and he doesn’t agree with him on stuff. But it does really help as an actor to go, ‘My objective in this scene is to not show you how much I love you. And just gaze longingly at you all the time.’ That really does happen.”

David Tennant: “But then Crowley absolutely loves Aziraphale. He hates that he loves him. It’s really annoying for him. So, they’re both going through that.”


Michael Sheen: “There is a sort of wonderful love story in this. I think a lot of the fans of the book kind of like that when they think about the characters, there’s an interesting love story going on. It’s never explicit in this, but it’s there. It is there.”

Showbiz Junkies: ‘Good Omens’ – Michael Sheen and David Tennant Interview on Starring in the Adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s Book

There are no words for how happy this makes me. Michael and David get it. 

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