#moveslikebucky

I need this for a thing. Incoming podfic. Standby...

Very Respectfully,

We appreciate your interest! Unfortunately, we can’t consider writers without a Gallifrey writing sample; we need to see how each applicant writes Gallifrey characters.

We will consider non-Gallifrey fics as part of the application, as an indicator of overall writing quality. So if you wrote a Gallifrey fic (of any length, but something that demonstrates your characterization) in the next few days, we would look at both that sample and other examples of your writing you submit.

It’s a short time frame, I know, but I want to give you options! You wouldn’t have to publish the Gallifrey fic either; writer applicants can upload unpublished fics too.

(And you mentioned series 5, but as a reminder, all writer applicants should pitch for at least three seasons.)

Some art I did for a big collab called Not in the Car!

~“Aziraphale will hold his flaming sword to Crowley’s throat and be his doom.  (Aziraphale is, of course, the only one allowed…when the time comes.  He wouldn’t give his life to any of the others, but he’d give it gladly to his angel.)”~

Fragment of Ao3 “When you look at me like that, my darling (what did you expect?)” By @moveslikebucky ❤️

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26324662?view_adult=true

Hey Bucky!

I already answered number 9, but let's get stuck in to number 5!

5: Share a snippet that you’re proud of from an upcoming fic/chapter.

Okay, so this is from a little fic I'm working on about Aziraphale and Crowley moving in together, and all the awkwardness that comes from two beings who've led separate lives for the last several millennia trying to merge them into one shared space.

---

However, when Aziraphale opened the cupboard above the little nook where he'd housed the kettle, he was met with stacks of plates and bowls instead of shelves full of tea cups and saucers.

"Crowley," he called out. "Where are my mugs?"

Crowley shuffled in from the living room and leaned in the kitchen doorway. "In the corner cupboard to your right."

Aziraphale turned around and smiled at Crowley with every ounce of angelic serenity he could summon. "And why are they in the corner cupboard instead of the one nearest the oven?"

"Because that doesn't make sense! Don't you think it makes more sense to have plates next to where the food is made?"

"I would," Aziraphale said, mouth twitching, "if either of us actually cooked anything."

"What do you need a cupboard full of mugs for, anyway?" Crowley asked. "You only ever use the naff one with the bloody wings on it."

"It's my favourite! And you were the one who got it for me."

"As a joke. I didn't expect you to be so unironically smitten with it."

"The mugs belong next to where I make the tea, Crowley."

For a few moments, Crowley didn't move. Then, with a roll of his eyes and a snap of his fingers, the cupboard was suddenly stocked with one shelf each of plates and mugs. "There, a compromise. Good?"

"Yes, of course," he said, his beatific smile wearing thin. He watched Crowley stagger back into the family room and carefully pondered how best to move the rest of the mugs back to their rightful place.

---

I think I’ve found a few, dear!

Azira Fell and the Apocalypse Scroll by miraworos

The hunt is on for a mysterious and deadly scroll with the power to topple the world into chaos. Will Dr. Azira Fell, professor of Egyptology, find it in time to prevent the impending apocalypse? Or will an evil organization bent on destroying civilization find it first? To have even a chance at saving the world, he'll need to rely on the wily Anthony J. Crowley, professional guide and adventurer. But can Azira trust the inscrutable explorer, or will he lose his heart along with his life?

Anthiana Jones (Crowley) and the Lost Book by EveningStarcatcher

For the Great Good Omens Snake-Off

Inspired by a conversation with a friend and @whiteleyfoster’s amazing art

Crowley and Aziraphale go on an adventure!

It's Not The Years, It's The Mileage by MovesLikeBucky

“Dr. Fell,” says the first, “your specialty is religious artifacts, is it not?”

“More or less,” Aziraphale says, fidgeting with his hands.

“Then you’re just the person we need,” the second agent says as he pulls out a few leaves of paper.  “Our latest field reports put them somewhere called Tanis.  We know from the information we’ve intercepted that they’re searching specifically for religious artifacts, but other than that we haven’t the foggiest idea what it is they’re looking for.”

The first takes a sip from his glass of water, then pointedly stares at Aziraphale.  “Any idea what it might be?”

They stare Aziraphale down like it’s an interrogation.  Like a test he hasn’t studied for.  Like any of his meetings with Gabriel.

Aziraphale freezes in his seat. Centuries - millennia, even - have passed since he last saw the Ark.  Since he had walked with the slaves through all of that pain and suffering; tried to be a helping hand to Moses.  He had been there when it was constructed, when the tablets were laid inside.  He knew its power.  He’d seen it.

He hadn’t been there when it was lost.  Had he known it would be, he would have destroyed it himself.

TWO MORE DAYS to submit to GOMENS PARTY ZINE #0: BLUEPRINTS, a flash zine supporting BLM and related activist organizations!!!

we want your fics that never were, plot bunnies left unexplored, imagined artworks and unfinished sketches– BLUEPRINTS will be offered as a downloadable PDF and will be a collection of illustrations and fic ideas that others are free to adopt, realize, and expand on as they wish. visit this link for more information.