#ifeelbetterer

you have the most peacock of a man with the most stoic guy (or at least claims to be). like guy making a big scene and mike is just like jfc i can't believe this is the love of my life.

Hello everybody, hope you're doing well in these turbulent times! I figured now would be as good a time as any to compile all my GO fics here, so anyone affected by quarantine/social distancing measures can treat themselves to a bit of Ineffable Goodness if they're so inclined. (All of these are Aziraphale/Crowley, with the occasional side pairing thrown in, and all of them have/will have a happy ending, no matter what!)

So, without further ado:

Good Endings (56k, completed, T): humorous post-canon slow burn with ensemble cast matchmakers, angst, and Pratchettisms abound; book canon, mostly written pre-show, with plenty of illustrations!

Flies and Furniture (<1k, completed, G): Ineffable Bureaucracy gets lost in an IKEA. That's it, that's the fic. More than a bit cracky, obviously.

Marriage and Misery (10k, completed, M): Regency-era marriage of convenience, lots of pining and misunderstandings; human AU, but pointed avoidance of period-typical homophobia - Aziraphale has many struggles to overcome, but being gay ain't one of 'em!

Team Ineffable - A Pokémon GOmens Story (3k, completed, G): humorous meet-cute fluff with a bit of a crack twist, in which Crowley and his one (1) braincell try to pass him off as a Pokémon Go expert to impress Aziraphale; human AU, no real knowledge of Pokémon Go required.

By Any Other Name (12k, completed, T): soulmate names AU with a bit of a twist, full of pining and misunderstandings. Crowley's name reads "Aziraphale", but Aziraphale's doesn't read "Crowley"...; follows canon through the 6000 years of slow burn, part of a Soulmate AU pact with Lurlur and Pearl09 - do read their fantastic fics here and here, too!

All's Fair In Love And Serial Killing (10k, completed, M, graphic violence): serial killer/cop AU that is far cuter and sillier than that premise suggests - apparently I can't write anything without a twist to it; human AU, mind the warnings, minor character death but only bad guys, unreliable-narrator!Crowley.

Yes and Please and Thank You (19k, ongoing, T): lots of angst, Crowley has been under an obedience curse since before meeting Aziraphale and it causes Problems(tm); first two chapters follow canon, everything after is post-canon, some Adam&The Them feels thrown in for flavour.

AN ANTICHRISTMAS CAROL (7k, ongoing, T): retelling of A Christmas Carol but with more of a romance plot; human/Victorian AU, written in the style of Dickensian prose.

Born To Take Care Of You (18k, completed, M): reverse!Omens mutual pining and mistaken identity, featuring Azirafell, Baron of Eternal Torments, and the Archangel Raphael pretending to be merely a demon called Crowley; reverse AU, obviously, follows the 6000 years of slow burn.

Tied Up With String (comic, completed, G): silly little fluff comic for the Christmas season, featuring atrocious self-knitted sweaters.

The Whole Damned World Seemed Upside Down (102k, completed, M): my GOBB fic! Crowley in opposite-world, humour, second apocalypse, lots of angst and pining with a happy ending. Ensemble cast, but, y'know, OPPOSITE ensemble. Main selling points include: Death doting over an adorable kitten, the Not-Them, Notziraphale actually selling his books, and secret library parties!; one-year-post-show canon. Also has beautiful art, and a fantastic mini-sequel by @rosiepaw!

Here's some more fics that I can only take partial credit for, so to speak:

COLLAB WORKS WITH VARIOUS OTHER AUTHORS:

Correction Fluid (16k, completed, E): very very smutty, and very very kinky. Doing your taxes (yes, really) has never been so hot - I was mostly involved in the form of 50+ humorous footnotes, all the wonderful sex is the work of... entirely too many fantastic fellow authors who just went feral in a Google doc.

Correction Fluid [ART] (art, completed, M): see above - sexy collab art for sexy collab fic, coloured by the awesome robynthemagpie!

Līgfāmblāwende (5k, completed, G): St. George and the Dragon, except it's Crowley and he's really just playing along with it for laughs. Light-hearted and fun!

Of Good Books & Black Omens (11k, completed, T): crossover with Black Books - Aziraphale and Bertram strike up a friendship over hating the customers of their respective bookshops, and Crowley feels replaced; Manny, meanwhile, is just along for the ride. Knowledge of Black Books enriches the experience, but possible to read just for Aziraphale and Crowley, as well.

My Fair Angel (14k, completed, G): writing all done by the amazing @handlebarstiedtothestars, I only did the illustrations. Retelling of My Fair Lady, in which Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to pass off the Them as little heirs and an heiress; includes lots of delicious, delicious pining and genderqueer!Crowley in Audrey Hepburn's beautiful dresses.

Miami Ice (3k, ongoing, T): a present for @aughtpunk, built around their prompt of Aziraphale and Crowley being responsible for the Under Pressure sample in Ice Ice Baby - now with extra Florida, alligators, NASA, and space!

And, I only drew for these, but can personally vouch for their fantasticness, so what the Hell, they get included in this list, too!

GOBB FICS I DID ART FOR:

Panem Et Circenses (89k, completed, T), by @thelittleblackfox: Aziraphale and Crowley take part in the Great British Bake-Off. Need I say more? Absolutely brilliantly written and downright delicious, and you'll LOVE Mel and Sue!!! Not a human AU, but canon divergence - slown burn, and lots and lots of mutual pining.

Butterflies In A Bell Jar (31k, completed, T), by @still-not-king:two office workers meet, hit it off, and fall in love, almost as if they've always known each other... but why is the office's non-fraternisation policy so unforgivingly strict, and what's the deal with their odd bosses? An absolutely wonderful office human!AU... or IS IT!?!? ;)

All The World's A Stage (16k, completed, G), by @ifeelbetterer: theatre students Adam and Warlock are matchmaking between their professors Crowley and Aziraphale, and maybe, possibly, perhaps, growing fond of each other in turn... adorable, full of pining, and some big misunderstandings all around!

Tadfield Heat (15k, completed, M), by @vodkertonic: do you like Hot Fuzz? Then you'll love this one! Crowley and Belle (Beelzebub) are detectives in a tiny little village, and their respective crushes, bookshop owner Aziraphale and the strange new American in town may or may not actually be spies... Ineffable Bureaucracy and Ineffable Husbands, an absolute delight!

Roman Holiday (30k, completed, G), by @percyjacksonfan3: beautiful, touching retelling of the movie, featuring genderfluid!Crowley (and a less bittersweet ending than the original, rest assured!)

All of these five are absolutely fantastic fics I am honoured to have had the privilege of drawing for, and I promise you're going to enjoy every single one!!!

That's all of them for now, though rest assured I have more planned - I'll update this list if any of the ongoing fics get completed, or if I start a new one. Please enjoy, and stay safe everyone!

^-^ <3

(And here's some dancing book!Husbands for you, just because!)

*clutches face* simultaneously learning how to use Zoom with staff plus learning how to CONTROL Zoom with students plus relearning how to use iMovie plus realizing where Google Classroom is fundamentally created to let me down PLUS figuring out how to teach long distance PLUS finding good resources online PLUS micromanaging the shit out of 200 bored teenagers who haven’t been able to talk to each other the way they’re used to PLUS their developing brains not understanding/not giving a shit that even though this is a chat box I can still see when they make fun of each other or curse PLUS students ability to reply at any time means theoretically I need to be monitoring them for inappropriate behavior at every waking moment PLUS knowing some parents are going to decide we’re eating bonbons all day

Plus no matter how hard I work some kids are still going to choose to do nothing and fail

Hard same....except I will definitely eat all of this shitty candy if it stays in my home

i specifically got candy that i don’t like but which polls said that trick-or-treat age children really like so that i wouldn’t be tempted to eat it before they all came. and NO ONE CAME

like, y’all don’t understand how fucking bizarro world this is like i feel like i feel into a separate unpopulated dimension and it’s only me, the streets are EMPTY

for context, i live directly next to a church and the kids of that church meet up in the church’s pumpkin patch to go as a group. i am the FIRST STOP for a group of usually at least 100 kids. the past 5 years i’ve lived here i’ve gone through about 200 pieces in a night, maybe 3 or 4 pieces left in the bowl at the end. every year.

200 pieces every year for the past 5 years.

tonight?

fucking NOT A SINGLE PERSON

I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT’S GOING ON?? like, even if the church stopped going as a group what about just regular kids that live in my area?

“Repeat after me, Quill: I am Groot.”

“I am Groot,” Peter said dutifully. He felt like an idiot, but there were only a limited number of ways to while away quiet nights on the ship when neither of them could sleep. If it was him and Gamora, or him and Drax, they could spar, but he’d only tried sparring with Rocket once. It took weeks for the bite marks to heal.

Rocket’s oddly expressive – for a raccoon – face wrinkled in an expression of disgust. “Do you even hear yourself? That is nothing like what I just said.”

“Dude, that is exactly what you just said.”

“No, I said ‘I am Groot’ and you said 'I am Groot’.”

“Which is … the same?”

Rocket stared at him for a long moment, then pointed at his snout. “Read my lips: I am Groot.”

“Was I supposed to repeat that, or …”

Rocket showed some teeth. Peter shut up. There was a moment of silence and Peter was just about to put his earbuds back in and quit with the language lessons when Rocket said suddenly, “Quill, if I say, 'I am Groot,’ just like that, what do you hear?”

“Is this a trick question? Especially the kind of trick question that’s gonna end in you pissing on my bed?”

“That was only once, and you had it coming –”

“Rocket –”

“No, for the love o’ cheese, it’s not a trick question. Just say 'I am Groot’.”

“I am Groot,” Peter said. “I feel like a complete jackass right now, in case that was your intent – hey, where are you going?”

“Jus’ need to get a thing!” Rocket’s voice trailed behind him.

Peter flopped back down in the chair in the mess and put his earbuds in. He was actually getting sleepy, and considering going back to bed, when Rocket jumped up onto the table in front of him with something clutched in his paws.

“What’s that?” Peter asked, sitting up. He palmed off the Zune and took off the earpieces. He had to hand it to Earth tech: the new music player was a lot more convenient to carry around than his late, lamented Walkman.

Rocket’s device was a thin, flat screen about the size of a hardback book; he had it clutched with a paw on each side while readouts rippled quickly across it.

“Okay, now say 'I am Groot’,” Rocket declared, studying the screen.

“Come on, man, do we really have to go through this again?”

“Humor me.”

Peter sighed and slouched in his chair. “I am Groot.”

Rocket’s ears pricked forward. “I am Groot,” he said, and tapped the display with his paw, causing the tiny, scrolling lines and numbers to freeze. “Did that sound the same to you?”

“Well … yeah?”

The flat pads of Rocket’s fingers danced across the display, and he laid the screen on the table between them. “Know what you’re lookin’ at?”

“Squiggly lines,” Peter said automatically.

“Did your mama drop you on the head a lot as a baby, Quill?”

“No, but Yondu did occasionally.” Peter rested his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. As much fun as it was to mess with Rocket, he did actually think he knew what the raccoon was getting at. “That wiggly line is some kind of … uh … noise – wiggle – curve, right?”

“That’s real precise.”

“I was abducted from Earth before we got to algebra in school. Cut me some slack here.”

“Excuses, excuses. I was raised in a cage and my mother had an IQ of 3.” Rocket touched the display, zooming in on it. “Point is, I don’t think it’s just that all a’ you two-legged bunch is too obtuse to understand perfectly clear speech –”

“Thanks.”

“– like I used to think. It’s more like, my ears hear at higher and lower frequencies than yours do, so I get different overtones. Put simply for the simple, I can hear things you can’t.”

Peter leaned forward, intrigued. “So, wait – you mean all this time, all his 'I am Groot’s sound different to you?”

He realized what he’d said as soon as the words left his mouth, and got the flat 'I am dealing with morons’ look from Rocket that he’d instantly realized he had coming. “How am I supposed to understand him if they don’t, Quill, I ask you?”

“Okay – point – but … so why does it sound like 'I am Groot’ to the rest of us?”

“It sounds like 'I am Groot’ to me too.” When Peter glowered at him, Rocket held up a paw. “No, I ain’t messin’ with ya. This time. No, that’s what the translation unit picks up, 'cause it ain’t so smart about some of the less humanoid languages. It’s just, I hear it like …” He hesitated and waggled his paw. “It’s like your music, right? All those up and down tones at the same time. Groot can do that. Your throat, my throat, can’t.”

“Singing?” Peter said after a minute. “Groot’s singing?”

“I refer you back to the part about bein’ dropped on your head.” Rocket pursed his lips and let out a sharp whistle, making Peter jump – there was still some part of him that couldn’t quite hear whistling and not expect a death arrow to follow an instant later. And he might not be the only one, because Rocket stopped abruptly, closed his mouth, and then said, “Quill, do this,” and hummed softly.

It wasn’t really a tune. “You just want me to hum?” Peter asked. “Like, generic humming?”

Rocket curled his lip and the hum became more of a snarl.

“Right, humming,” Peter said hastily.

The funny thing was, the instant his soft hum of response hit the right harmonics with the note Rocket was humming (and the raccoon did have a good sense of pitch; Peter had always suspected so) he understood exactly what Rocket was getting at.

“Ohhhhh. When Groot talks, it’s like a symphony. Is that what you mean? And the 'I am Groot’ part is the part in the human audible range.”

Rocket’s ears and tail went up cheerfully. “Yeah, ezzactly. He’s tryin’ to communicate, it’s just he didn’t get any farther than 'I am Groot’ when he was learning. It’s as hard for him to do the talkin’ part for the translators as it is for you and me to do his kind of talk. He can hear us just fine, though. Actually to him, understanding our talk is dead easy.”

“So how do we understand him?” Peter asked. “Can you, I dunno, juice up the translator so it picks up a higher range of frequencies, or something?”

“I dunno. That’s not a bad idea.” Rocket tapped his claw against his teeth before picking up the screen thing and hopping off the table. “Have to think on it. Don’t wanna explode your heads or anything.”

“Yeah, well, on that lovely note, I’m goin’ to bed.” He actually was tired enough now to fall asleep in spite of the inevitable nightmares (the bitter cold and darkness of space; Ego’s face dissolving in his hands; his friends crushed by rocks or blown apart). The music helped as it always had, a melodic bulwark against the dark, wrapped gently around his heart -- but it could only do so much.

Rocket grunted absently as he trotted off, already engrossed in figuring out the problem.

The thought occurred to Peter as he wandered back to his quarters, thumbing idly through the songs on the Zune, that these sorts of mechanical puzzles served the same purpose for Rocket as his music did for him: something to make his mind go quiet.

The music did that … and so did letting Gamora beat the stuffing out of him in the ship’s small exercise area. Or getting language lessons from Rocket. Or –

“I am Groot?”

Peter jumped as small hands grabbed hold of his pants leg. Groot shimmied quickly up to perch on his shoulder.

“Hey, little buddy.” Peter opened the door to his quarters and left it open so Groot could come and go as he wanted. Or so he could hear if anybody got into a fight or whatever. He flopped wearily on his unmade bed, careful not to dislodge Groot. “You know, I’m not sure how much of this you can understand right now, but Rocket’s teaching me to speak your language.”

“I am Groot?”

“Well, to understand you more than speak it, I guess I should say.” He was lying on his back now and he couldn’t really see Groot except out of the corner of his eye, but he could feel the little tree shifting around in the hollow where the collar of his sweatshirt rested against his neck.

“I am Groot,” Groot said insistently, almost in his ear. Small hands patted at the side of his face and his earlobe.

“Yeah, yeah.” Peter pinched one earbud between two fingers and held it where Groot could get at it. The little hands took it out of his fingers. Peter settled himself comfortably as Groot squirmed somewhat ticklishly against his neck, and sorted through the songs. “How 'bout Elton John tonight, buddy?”

“I am Groot,” came the sleepy answer.

“You know, little guy,” Peter murmured, as the first strains of the music began to play and Groot snuggled comfortably against his neck, “whether or not Rocket can get his new gadget working, I think we understand each other just fine, don’t we?”

wait you're out too???

Yep! After lots of existential crises and tearful conversations with friends (and therapist), I’m leaving being a professor! I got sick and tired of my institution from hell yanking me around and of the utter lack of a work-life balance in academia, so I’ve given my notice and I’ve been interviewing for alt-ac jobs (mainly DH ones). I should still be able to go to conferences in our field, and I might still finish my book, but I haven’t decided yet.

uuuugggghhhhhhh why are people so awful at you when you make so much sense gus