#racketghost

Oh, this is so unnecessary, but thank you — genuinely. And to be fair, brevity has never really been one of my skills, so absurdly long comments are, I’m afraid, what everyone gets stuck with from me.

Really, thank you for writing and sharing it. I just wanted to show my appreciation for all the work, care, and craft that went into it. I loved reading it, and apparently I had a truly unreasonable number of feelings about it.

Hi!

this is my second fanart for Closed set by @racketghost

Most of this is actually more than a month old and in that timespan i have become more and more terrified of trying to finish it, because i couldn't get Crowley's face right no matter how i tried, to the point where the paper was seriously damaged from drawing and erasing again.

And then i saw your post like.. half an hour ago? And i decided to just fucking do it, because

1. It just feels like similar issues and i want to try to get over it and

2. I love closed set, every new chapter i get so absurdly excited. And i never quite know where the line is between asking to show that i still think about it often and where it becomes stressful for you, as a creator.

Anyway, i did it, it's anything but perfect, or what i wanted it to be because I'm not good enough to achieve that, but also I went "look at this shit!"(affectionate) when i was done so that has to count for something 😂

Having fun with @racketghost ‘s prompt list, which means I do 13 pieces in 3 days, naturally. I wanted to do a bunch of mini AU illustrations and it was a lot of fun!

PART 3

11. Haunt - Eccentric Mansion Owners AU

12. Magic - Magician and Snake AU

Okay just for @racketghost​ I am going to attempt an actual garden update post and not just a message thrown wildly into the abyss of tumblr ask boxes.

It has been cold and rainy lately but we finally got a warm day and I think the tides of spring are turning so I planted my direct-sow seeds today! Lettuce, spinach, dill, radishes, and sugar snap peas are now all in the ground and on their merry ways! The peas got upgraded to a bigger pot than they have used in the past, which I think will help me to arrange their structural supports more effectively (rather than having them all just sort of tip over sadly on a cute-but-unhelpful orchid trellis, which was the previous system).

A few weeks ago I started my tomatoes, peppers, and onions indoors and they are now living in a very nice patch of sunlight on the kitchen table.

Actually there might be a few lettuce in there, for reasons which I do not now remember. I think I was afraid I would end up with too many big tomato plants, (a reasonable fear, given how many of the seeds germinated and given my utter inability to thin them without guilt), so I allocated a few squares to extra lettuce. That may have been a mistake given how leggy they already they look, but the seed packet does claim you can transplant them!

Here is a close up on a tiny pepper friend:

And then!

(This is the biggest news so I have saved it for last.)

Look at the garlic!!!

They’ve made it through the winter and they are nothing short of a triumph! I thought I would have terrible luck with them actually taking hold, but now if anything they are crowded. They don’t get harvested until June so who knows how big they will get! (Not me, because I did not do my research.)

Day one of Racket's 13 Days of Halloween and I'm so excited! The prompt was Moonlight and I just had some fun with another spooky glowy-eyed Aziraphale bc why not! (Might seem a bit boring, but could be considered a companion to Day 3's contribution, so keep an eye out for that.)

All of my art and fic pieces are going to be added on to last year's AO3 compilation, Thirteenth Night (Moonlight located here). Flats below the cut. So excited for this event and can't wait to show you what I've done!

Aziraphale huffed and puffed up the three hundred and thirty three steps to Crowley’s penthouse flat. Technically, he didn’t need to take the stairs. He could have simply appeared at Crowley’s door [1]. But Aziraphale felt that some things were worth doing properly and showing up in breathless indignation when one’s erstwhile friend and sometime lover had been ignoring your calls, texts, and sundry demonic summonings for the better part of six months was one of them. 

The snake knocker knew better than to hiss at Aziraphale. It meekly shuffled aside under his withering celestial glare [2]. The door also knew better than to be locked. Aziraphale burst into the flat and immediately doubled over coughing. Dust. Dust was everywhere. On everything. Even the statue of the demon “wrestling” an angel into submission was covered in a thin layer of grime. For the first time in the past six months, Aziraphale’s throat seized up with true anxiety [3]. What if something truly horrible had befallen Crowley? What if he--no, it was impossible--had died? 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called, a flaming sword flaring to life in his hand. “Crowley are you in here?” 

The plants in the alcove had been too terrified to die for so long that they were now practically immortal. As Aziraphale passed them, their leaves rustled in a non-existent breeze and the hairs on the back of Aziraphale’s neck stood up. 

Aziraphale approached the door of Crowley’s bedroom. Dread formed a ball in his stomach, hard and smooth like the pit of one big avocado. Aziraphale kicked the door in. Crowley was not here either. Aziraphale stood at the foot of the dark bed, flaming sword held aloft, and wondered if it was time to schedule a panic attack. As Aziraphale was rapidly coming to the conclusion that a panic attack might not politely wait to be penciled in for a convenient time in the not-to-distant future, a disgruntled hissing sounded from above him and a voice groaned. “Put the bloody light out would you, demon ssssleeping here.”  

“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped, deciding that panic could be put on hold for a more imminent appointment with ire. “Get down here this minute. I thought you were dead!” 

“‘Ziraphale I don’t want to pick a peck of pickled pepperssss” Crowely murmured, turned over on the ceiling, and went back to sleep. 

With a grim set of his jaw not unlike that of someone about to pull the covers off of a friend in danger of oversleeping, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and exclaimed, “let there be light!” 

***

The facts, it seemed, were these: 

Crowley had decided to sleep when the world shut down due to a pandemic

Crowley who was more of a “big picture thinker” usually let Aziraphale deal with “the details” of various plots and schemes 

The “big picture” in this case was napping through a crisis, while “the details” involved procuring an alarm clock, setting it, and waking up when it went off 

Crowley had expected Aziraphale to wake him up 

“Gosh, it’s already October,” Crowley said, sitting cross-legged on the bed, sipping the hot cider Aziraphale had very begrudgingly [4] miracled up. “Wow, why didn’t you wake me up sooner.” 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, infusing the two syllabus with a surge of exasperation that threatened to overflow into warm protectiveness so intense it would automatically light a cozy fire in every grate in a three block radius. “It’s not the 19th century anymore. I’ve decided you can’t just ghost me any time you're in a strop with the world.” 

Crowley’s mouth opened and closed. “Ghost….you….what?” 

“Ghost,” Aziraphale said intensely irritated with the slow blink of Crowley’s lamp-like eyes, with his assuredly deliberate incomprehension, with the rush of profound and utterly inconvenient relief he felt, seeing Crowley here, safe, sound, just a little sleepy. “Of germanic origin from the Old English gāst meaning “soul,” used here with its 21st century lexicological meaning, id est to cut off all communication without any kind of explanation, leaving the ghostee certain that a horrible fate had befallen the ghoster or worse yet that somehow the ghoster had gotten sick of waiting after six thousand years for the ghostee--

A pair of cool [5] lips pressed against Aziraphale’s, effectively ending the most ambitious crossover event of the century, an Oxford English Dictionary rendition of the jilted lover’s monologue, before it properly began. 

“Who taught you that word?” Crowley asked when he pulled back. “Was it Adam?” 

“It was,” Aziraphale said, a bit bashfully. “And you won't?” 

“Ghost you? No. I would never.” Crowley was serious now. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me angel.” 

Aziraphale hummed deep in his throat. “Well, maybe we ought to move in together. Just in case. What if you forget to set an alarm again?” 

Crowley’s lips curled into a smile. “You know I was having such a lovely dream about a cottage in the South Downs…” 

--

[1] or taken the lift. 

[2] it was a glare that announced “I will smite you with the wrath of the almighty if you stand in my way foul beast,” and then whispered “you haven’t been polished in ages have you? And you work so hard too. You poor dear. I’ll be sure to fix you up as soon as I can.” 

[3] and also, the aforementioned dust 

[4] begrudgingly and not at all devotedly, affectionately, fondly, or adoringly