Helm-Puppet

Hey, guess what I finally finished (a month later like a slacker)!

fake dating

SECRET dating

being locked in a room or trapped in a small space

huDDLING FOR WARMTH

BEING ON THE BRINK OF ADMITTING THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER BUT THEN GETTING INTERRUPTED

finishing each other’s sentences, KNOWING WHAT THE OTHER IS ABOUT TO SAY

tou chi NG!!!! FOr eheA DS!!!!!!11!!

wearing each other’s clothes

doing that thing where they accidentally get real close and, like, stare meaningfully at each other for a few seconds too long

channeling the inner romcom and having an epiphany about how much they care about each other and RACING TO CONFESS THEIR LOVE

fucking. Now or Never Kiss

HEIGHT DIFFERENCES

defending each other to scathing tertiary or otherwise minor characters but ONLY WHEN THE OTHER ISN’T AROUND

reincarnation or time loop or OOOOH TIME TRAVEL SCENARIOS

dramatically saving each other from certain death or barely surviving something that almost makes the other break down and just smirking wearily and mumbling flippant smartass remarks to HIDE THE DEPTH OF THEIR FEELINGS

undercover as lovers, the classic

ALMOST KISSING. like getting so close that they start to close their eyes and hold their breath and then SOMETHING HAPPENS and they jump apart, that is MORE VALUABLE THAN ANY ACTUAL KISSING

casually sitting on each other’s laps during ensemble cast conversations or scenes

Me, the author, who has been winging this plot since chapter one:

Neil Gaiman’s 8 Rules of Writing, a remake of this post. Source.

WIP! Will color this soon, maybe this week if I find time.

only it never works because of that whole pesky free will malarkey

hotel receptionist: mister crowley, mister aziraphale, there appears to have been an error with your booking. you’ve somehow been booked into the same room - and there’s only one bed.

god: oh no

god: only one bed

god: what will they do?

god: hee hee hee

aziraphale: not to worry old boy, you take the bed while I read all night in the hotel lounge so as not to make you feel uncomfortable. angels don’t need sleep anyway, you know.

Hawkeye's daughter!

Yep. I absolutely did a character sketch for a character that does not even technically exsist yet because in the 264 words I actually wrote to this fic she is still a fetus. Nevermind that I have 11k of plot points which make it up to her being 24, that doesn't count.

Still getting way ahead of myself.

FFFUUUUUUUUUU

(It’ll be a while before the full thing is posted but I’m so delighted with this little bit I had to share it.)

“Delightful,” Aziraphale breathed, in the same tone of voice he might use to describe a good meal. He reached for Crowley’s belt buckle and Crowley had to immediately put a hand on his to stop him, wincing.

“Those don’t come off,” he said. 

Aziraphale blinked at him. “I beg your pardon.”

“Well, I mean. Obviously the trousers come off, they will, but you can’t take them off.” Crowley sighed. “They’re too tight. You’ve got to…”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, looking appalled. “Do you magic your trousers on in the morning?”