in all my life, I have never encountered such an astounding act of trolling as the time I spent an hour and a half downloading what I thought was a Good Omens fanmix and then discovering that it was a Best of Queen album.
whoever did that is my hero
a little story about that fanmix:
for the life of me, I can’t remember who did it, but I was there when it happened and for the first two weeks of that fanmix? If you downloaded it, itwasa fanmix. It had all the proper songs.
After two weeks, the songs turned into Queen songs.
I can’t remember who it was but I still consider that person my god.
Should I read A Diamond in the Sky Above Titanic?
And then I wrote Good Omens and Sherlock.
Part of a longer story that shall be available… sometime.
Anthony J. Crowley smirked and put his feet up on the desk before adjusting The Shades.
“Get your feet off my desk.”
“Mm. Er. No.” He peered at the man over his shades, which were a very integral part of the Ultimate Design. They made a man very mysterious, they did. “This is a very comfortable desk.”
The detective pinched the bridge of his nose. Crowley liked when he made that happen, that and the Scowling and the Frustration. It got him points with Down Below. The demon smirked. The detective grimaced. Everyone won. (More or less.)
“You’re still wrong.” The demon folded his hands in front of his mouth, feet still propped on the desk. “You can’t tell me you really believe this is one of my people.”
Gregory Lestrade crossed his arms. “The signs are all there.” Standing in front of his own desk to talk to his consulting ethereal being did not put Greg in a happy mood. In fact, it made him quite cross. Particularly because he needed the demon. And the demon knew it. Which was particularly inconvenient, because he could have had considerable leverage if the demon didn’t know he needed him.
(Convenient would have been using the demon’s older brother. Just as perfectly good a demon, except unavailable for reasons undisclosed by the official secrets act.
Gregory would have much preferred the good demon Mycroft right about now.)
Jude Law’s hair in Alfie is basically what I picture as Aziraphale’s hair.
At least, the start of it.
Ezra Fell did not know what he was expecting when he came home from the War, the only War, the one that was never won but was really (sometimes) just a bunch of cranky angels discussing politics angrily and (occasionally) shooting at each other.
What Ezra Fell certainly was not expecting was anything. You see, nothing ever happened to Ezra, except being shot.
Go back to earth, the Head Angel Therapist had told him. Go back to Earth and report to us on how you’ve been doing. You’ve been a good soldier, Ezra. I’m sure you’ll have a Fulfilling Life.
But, as you already know, nothing ever happens to Ezra.
I am spending my night writing this, you guys.
Title: A Tigercamel on the Halfshell
Characters: Crowley, Aziraphale
Summary: Once again (drunk) in Aziraphale’s rare book shop, Crowley and Azirphale discuss clams on the half shell, atigercamels, and tartan suitcases.
by imyouraziraphale and masterfromcatering