The circle in the background doesn’t help at all with my association with The Adventures of Tintin.
And damn that unhealthy looking anatomy.
Even with the city lights bleeding into the clouds, all of London could see the spectacle above. The official order was to remain indoors, but humans are curious, and so many of them stood on rooftops to stare at the falling stars. Not one of them had seen anything like it.
Except for Anthony J. Crowley. Six thousand years ago.
It had felt so slow, floating downward serenely. But the wind whipped at his wings and his hair and he knew it must be a faster fall than he imagined. When he landed, it was feet-first in the dewy grass, and there were silhouettes of his brothers and sisters gathering on a hill nearby. As he walked toward them, he remembered feeling cold. He hadn’t felt cold before. The crowd on the hill grew, with Lucifer shining in the center, and they all turned their faces heavenward and watched their siblings fall. Fire raining down.
But that was before.
Now there were so many more.
And dread laid itself on his shoulders like a heavy shroud.
And when he burst into the shop and shouted for the owner until his throat stung and there was no answer and the lights were dim and cold terror settled in his stomach, he took solace in lifting the oldest text he could find from its shelf and flinging it against the countertop, littering the floor with brittle hand-lettered pages.
Outside, they were still Falling. More by the minute.
What, all the pretty little chickens at one fell swoop?
Then the Terms had changed. There was no Arrangement.
And if there was no opposing side, there was nothing wrong with Crowley helping his—
“Heaven has no Taste”
“My dear boy-“
“You won’t have a choice.”
“Heaven has no taste.”
“And not one single sushi restaurant.”
That was the final straw for Aziraphale and Crowley, who at that point, combined their efforts to save the world. Good Omens is one of my favorite books for many reasons, but most likely for these incredibly contrasting and fabulous characters. If you haven’t read it, you should pick up a copy!
This print will be available at Fanime! I’ll be at Table 38.
Also on AO3. Texts!verse. Mary and John have coffee.
“Thanks for meeting me here,” Mary says.
“No problem.” John pulls out the chair across from her and shrugs out of his jacket. “Sorry I’m late. Vic’s not with you?”
“No, he’s home with a sitter,” Mary replies. She already has a cup of coffee, but it’s barely touched and still steaming. She hasn’t been here long. No, stop doing that. “Girl from the neighborhood. He adores her. They’re probably playing with model trains as we speak.”
“That’s good,” says John, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. “I got held up by my landlady, actually.”
“Yeah, she reprimanded me for going on a date ‘so soon.’”
Mary, who’d been about to take another sip of coffee, sets the cup down on its saucer and beings to protest, “Oh, no, I didn’t mean—this is just—”
“I know you didn’t, I know,” John says. “Just—remember how I told you that Sherlock sort of tended to rub off on people, sometimes?”
She nods. “Yeah, you said something like that in your emails.”
“Right, well, apparently I’m out in my ‘date shoes’ today, so she got a bit confused.”
So, it begins.
My tribute to the Spn S8 Finale. What an amazing episode!
A Valentine I made for my friend Maya this year
Crowley and Aziraphale
El sacrificio de Enjolras