homesick for familiar trees

I wish I could say that Aziraphale’s appointment will go better, but unfortunately neither of these two have a clue.

thank you @curiouspupsicle and @copperplatebeech for getting the ball rolling on throwback thursdays, and to @quitequaintrelle and @carry-the-sky for further inspiring me to participate!

since this weekend was london pride, i thought it would be a good opportunity to look back on the fic i wrote for the trans omens events minibang back in 2024, with amazing art by @wasleichtesart and a cover by @portraitofalonelydyke (above).

for a long time, i struggled to think of an idea for this fic, as is typical for me when i decide i want to write anything for an event! eventually, i started to think about the dowling years, as i've seen writing before about crowley manifesting a specifically transfeminine form as nanny ashtoreth. i wondered - what if crowley and aziraphale stumbled across one another completely by accident in the london trans scene not long after they had helped to raise warlock together? what if they had both come to realise they enjoyed the community that adopting an unashamedly trans presentation could offer - and what if that helped them connect with each other in turn?

the idea that someone could want to be visibly trans when they have an option not to be is one i think is definitely possible in any universe! we're all on the journey that is life; people who are openly trans and don't equate their happiness with approximation to cisness are honouring the transitive nature of our existence in a special way that i think is really important to celebrate.

this fic made an impact that i couldn't've anticipated. it isn't among my most well-known stories, but those who did read it seemed to enjoy the concept that crowley and aziraphale might only be able to connect sexually once they had figured out their favourite ways to present (something that is true of humans, but isn't often explored with regard to immortal beings like our ineffables).

i was really touched that people connected with this idea because it felt quite vulnerable to write a story like this as a trans person myself. i had written a trans character before, and that had felt vulnerable too (in a different way as it was a human au), but i felt as if i was putting myself out there a little bit more with this one since i knew that, with canon settings, it can be difficult for people to read something out of their gender configuration comfort zone.

i was also really honoured that @outrageousring5655 liked the fic enough to record it as a podfic! it took the fic into a new form and gave it a new life which i loved.

i consider this fic to be a departure from my usual style in various ways, and i'm glad i committed to writing a 5k oneshot with a concrete beginning, middle and end (something i hadn't really done before at the time in that word limit!). it was a challenge i enjoyed. i reread it recently and there's a lot i would do differently if i wrote it now, but that's more with regards to style than story.

it would be amazing to explore more ideas about crowley and aziraphale interacting directly with the distinctly human concept of transness, and the community around that.

here are the details if you're interested in reading:

GO Fan Fiction Writers

Thank you to @curiouspupsicle and @copperplatebeech for spearheading the Throwback Thursdays idea!

The origins for all roads can be traced to my first fic, we shall have the world forever for our own. In that story, I included this anecdote while Aziraphale and Crowley enjoy a picnic:

“Do you recall when we made wine? In Pompeii, sometime shortly after the changeover from BC to AD. Around the first century, I believe. Before all that unfortunate business with the volcano,” says Aziraphale with a nostalgic sigh, bumping his bare shin against Crowley's. “We shared space in the treading area. It was a bit challenging holding the hem of my toga out of the muck. I had to place my hand on your shoulder for balance, remember? I can't say I cared all that much for the squashed grapes underfoot or the stains on my skin but it was jolly good— Crowley! Be careful, you’re going to spill all over your shorts.” Crowley hastily sets the wine bottle aside. His sunglasses slide down his nose—Crowley’s eyes are glassy, not unlike the mosaic tiles in the villa where they’d done the grape-stomping. He plucks the sunglasses off his face, hooking them in the scoop of his vest, causing it to dip even lower. “Remember… sure, yeah, I remember. Was fodder for ages.” “What kind of fod— Oh my, isn't that flattering.” The shade of the ripe strawberry pinched between Aziraphale’s fingers is nothing compared to the pretty blush spreading across his face and neck. 

I kept the idea of sexually charged grape-stomping in ancient Rome tucked away until a few months later, when I participated in a holiday gift exchange. One of my giftee's prompts was "historical references." I opted to dust off the grape-stomping idea and refer to the popularity of dick imagery in ancient Roman art. This remains one of my favourite opening lines from any fic I've written:

There is a bronze phallus in Crowley's eyeline and it's proving to be a distraction.

I did a good deal of research for this fic—not just about metal and mosaic penises! I even spent hours studying 3D models of Roman villa layouts so I could get a better sense of how the characters would move in the environment. It's my first story with historical tidbits in the author's notes.

This fic also contains an instance of a "turning lemons into lemonade" joke. While in draft form, one of my beta readers pointed out that I used two different family names for one of my original characters. I decided to turn that error into a running gag where Crowley keeps getting the character's name wrong in increasingly ridiculous ways (sorry Quintus my man).

Even with all the jokes and silliness, this is actually one of my angstier fics, given all the sad wanking and not-yet-requited yearning. But, since this story technically exists in the wshtwffoo cinematic universe, all roads do eventually lead to domestic bliss 💕.

all roads

3.2K words | Rated E

All the muscles in Crowley’s good-for-nothing, backstabbing corporation are straining with effort— No, not effort, he can't think about efforts, certainly can't think about Aziraphale's— “You know, I think this colour suits me. I really don’t see why the use of Tyrian purple is so restricted,” Aziraphale sulks, balancing on his right foot and wiggling the toes of his left in the air. He does brace himself on Crowley this time, his fingers clamping down on Crowley's shoulder. Leave it to Aziraphale to complain about sumptuary laws when Crowley is having a crisis.

--

Crowley has a very normal time grape-stomping with Aziraphale.