Welcome To The End Times!

Cover art by @and-his-hands-were-24-crows Thank you so much, Crows! Please show them some support by checking out their work on Instagram and ao3!

And a huge thank you to my beta harem, who have been with me on this journey for over a year now: @totheendtimes, @Nightshiftcaffeine, @ineffable-xenanigans, @nosferatini, @moderndayklutz, @Savyl and @TansyOggAdditional in story art by Demented_DeMeown, @avadoingart-imus and @divinitydemon

CW for this chapter: Genderfluid Crowley, changing pronouns for Crowley

Summary:

After long months of touring, Crowley finally comes home.

Aziraphale is waiting for him, and finally there is no audience to impress. Exhausted from the weight of performance and the burden of being who everyone expects him to be, Crowley makes a choice to set aside his armour and return to a shape he reserves for the person he trusts most.

In the safety of home, Crowley allows himself to be vulnerable, and Aziraphale responds as he always has: with unwavering love, acceptance and understanding.

Excerpt:

By the time the last flightcase was latched shut and loaded away, Crowley was vibrating with impatience.

He didn’t linger. He couldn’t.

Newt and Silvia talked about logistics: when the crew could be expected to return their equipment to them, hotel reservations, the sensible unwinding talk of a triumphant finale, but Crowley barely heard them. His goodbyes were abrupt, but still warm. He proudly squeezed Silvia’s shoulder, smiled at Newt, and promised to call after he’d rested and the ringing in his ears had stopped.

Then, he was gone, racing to the Bentley, shrugging his coat into place as he went.

London was awake and glittering behind him, but he didn’t look back.

The Bentley readily roared awake as if she’d been waiting for this exact moment.

Crowley drove as though he could outrun time, the streetlights blurring into molten lines of gold, the engine responding not just to pressure on the pedal but to want. The car would always take him where he intended to go. They cut through the night together, fast enough that thought and driver input fell away, leaving only instinct and yearning in its wake.

He should have been exhausted. Two months of performances, of crowds and noise. And then tonight, fully giving himself over to the audience, and all the emotional upheaval that involved. His body and soul ached with it, in a surprisingly cathartic way. But beneath the fatigue was a spark of excitement that wouldn’t be extinguished.

He was going home.

Read the rest here on ao3!

Want somewhere to discuss the chapter? Join The Braincell Discord

In memory, always, of Xenanigans.

CW/TW: Noncon

Tags:

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omegaverse, Omega Crowley, Alpha Aziraphale, Knotting, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, Morning Sickness, Childbirth, Established Relationship, Oral Sex, Science Fiction, Astronaut Aziraphale, Crowley Whump, Angst, Stalking, Sexual Assault, Near Drowning, Dreams and Nightmares, Happy Ending

Fic summary:

Alpha Aziraphale Engel is an astronaut being sent to plant a set of nuclear warheads in a small asteroid that is threatening Earth, as part of Operation Flaming Sword. Omega Anthony Crowley is his clandestine lover and assigned to communications for the mission. The journey will be long, lonely, and perilous, but our two heroes soon find that space is not the only source of danger for them.

Chapter summary:

Keraunos-1 takes flight at long last, and Aziraphale's long journey begins.

Excerpt:

"Keraunos-1, starting up." "Keraunos-1, startup confirmed." "T minus 30 seconds. T minus 15 seconds. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and… ignition." Keraunos-1 rose gracefully from the launch pad and into the bright blue sky. Crowley thought of Aziraphale's beautiful blue eyes and how terribly far away Ligur-666 was, and tried to maintain his composure as the team cheered. "Godspeed, Commander," Crowley managed, in an awful, croaky rasp, a massive lump seeming to fill his throat.

Thanks again to my betas @totheendtimes and @littleweezel for your help and support in getting this fic "off the ground", as it were.

Read the latest chapter here, or start from the beginning.

CW/TW: Noncon

Tags:

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omegaverse, Omega Crowley, Alpha Aziraphale, Knotting, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, Morning Sickness, Childbirth, Established Relationship, Oral Sex, Science Fiction, Astronaut Aziraphale, Crowley Whump, Angst, Stalking, Sexual Assault, Near Drowning, Dreams and Nightmares, Happy Ending

Fic summary:

Alpha Aziraphale Engel is an astronaut being sent to plant a set of nuclear warheads in a small asteroid that is threatening Earth, as part of Operation Flaming Sword. Omega Anthony Crowley is his clandestine lover and assigned to communications for the mission. The journey will be long, lonely, and perilous, but our two heroes soon find that space is not the only source of danger for them.

Chapter summary:

As preparations for the launch continue, Aziraphale and Crowley try to make the most of their waning time together.

Excerpt:

At last, the launch day arrived, bright and clear — perfect weather, really. He ought to have been grateful that the conditions would help guarantee a safe launch, but Crowley still wanted to curse the sun and the sky for conspiring to help tear Aziraphale away from him. Couldn't they have given him just one more day?

It was no use, and now Aziraphale was suited up and seated aboard Keraunos-1 as she sat, tanked up and steaming, on the launch pad.

Crowley's mouth was dry as he robotically relayed the checklists over the comms and heard Aziraphale's dear voice responding. He held on to that voice desperately, like a shipwreck survivor clinging to a bit of flotsam in a turbulent and hostile sea.

The countdown began, and he rasped the numbers and tried to keep from crying as his stomach twisted. In the massive viewport in the front of the room, the rocket appeared from many angles as the ignition sequence continued. Finally, the engines roared to life, the scaffolding came away, and Keraunos-1 lifted off.

Crowley's heart was in his throat, and he could barely manage to relay information from Aziraphale to the rest of the team. He wasn't sure how he was going to survive months of this.

Thanks again to @totheendtimes and @littleweezel for your support and guidance! It means a lot.

Read the latest chapter here, or start from the beginning.

Cover art by @and-his-hands-were-24-crows Thank you so much, Crows! Please show them some support by checking out their work on Instagram and ao3!

And a huge thank you to my beta harem, who have been with me on this journey for over a year now: @totheendtimes, @Nightshiftcaffeine, @ineffable-xenanigans, @nosferatini, @moderndayklutz, @Savyl and @TansyOgg

Additional in story art by Demented_DeMeown, @avadoingart-imus and @divinitydemon And an extra treat from DeMeown this chapter too...

CW for this chapter: Explicit, metaphysical sex, monsterfucking, angst, grief, injury

Summary:

After sacrificing himself to save the world, Crowley wakes up broken and alone on the Welsh coast, only to discover the world has changed in his absence. Guided by the lingering warmth of Aziraphale’s divinity woven through every living thing, he follows the scar he carved across the world back towards the angel he misses so much, it physically hurts.

As he journeys through a wounded Earth remade by devotion, he begins to understand that the world was not saved by him alone, but by the fierce, impossible love they have always carried for one another.

And he is going to find Aziraphale again.

No matter what.

Excerpt:

The ocean carried him.

Not gently — nothing about his return to his body had been gentle — but steadily, as if some ancient current had been instructed to deliver him somewhere he could survive. He drifted in and out of consciousness, kept afloat by his wings. Awareness would resurface whenever a harsh slap of cold water hit his face, before receding again.

He was floating awkwardly, listing to one side, lying on top of one wing. Every swell of waves pressed at his broken ribs, sending sickening pulses through his chest when he became lucid enough to feel. He didn’t know how long he’d been drifting. Hours. Days. The concept of time refused to solidify as he never truly awoke.

But, at some point, something changed.

The rhythm of the ocean transformed. It shifted from the deep and rolling pull of open water to the uneven push of waves breaking against something solid. His legs scraped over sand. Seaweed tangled around his feathers. The water grew shallower.

Crowley groaned weakly, the sound barely audible over the crash of waves.

Read the rest here on ao3. 

Want somewhere to discuss the chapter? Join the Braincell discord. 

@goodomensafterdark

In memory, always, of xenanigans.

CW/TW: Noncon

Tags:

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omegaverse, Omega Crowley, Alpha Aziraphale, Knotting, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, Morning Sickness, Childbirth, Established Relationship, Oral Sex, Science Fiction, Astronaut Aziraphale, Crowley Whump, Angst, Stalking, Sexual Assault, Near Drowning, Dreams and Nightmares, Happy Ending

Fic summary:

Alpha Aziraphale Engel is an astronaut being sent to plant a set of nuclear warheads in a small asteroid that is threatening Earth, as part of Operation Flaming Sword. Omega Anthony Crowley is his clandestine lover and assigned to communications for the mission. The journey will be long, lonely, and perilous, but our two heroes soon find that space is not the only source of danger for them.

Chapter summary:

When Gabriel forces their hand, Aziraphale and Crowley find help in some unexpected places.

Excerpt:

Gabriel cleared his throat and began. "You know you're an individual of great interest to the public thanks to this mission." Aziraphale, rising from his seat with his half-eaten lunch in hand, tore his gaze away from Crowley's slinkily departing figure and tried to figure out where this was going. "I suppose that is understandable," he managed, feeling a bit on the wrong foot. "People have been putting explorers on something of a romantic pedestal since time immemorial, really." "Exactly!" said Gabriel. "'Romantic pedestal', that's really it in a nutshell, isn't it? And well, it's been noted that you are a very eligible bachelor!" "Not quite what I meant by 'romantic' there," Aziraphale managed, taken aback. His stomach twisted uncomfortably at the implication. Somehow word of his relationship with Crowley had not made it to the highest levels of the centre's leadership, and he really wanted to keep it that way. "My private life is nobody's business but my own, Gabriel." "Oh, certainly," Gabriel allowed. "But we could play up your single status. Maybe you can do a couple of interviews where you talk about how much easier it is for you to risk your life because there's no one you'd be leaving behind. How you're married to your career, and that the life of a space explorer leaves you no time to date and you have to come home to an empty house night after night. You'll have omegas all over the world weeping over you, the brave, lonely alpha who is prepared to sacrifice everything to save humanity."

Thank you SO MUCH to @totheendtimes and @littleweezel for helping me whip this thing into shape!

Read the latest chapter here, or start from the beginning.

Cover art by @and-his-hands-were-24-crows Thank you so much, Crows! Please show them some support by checking out their work on Instagram and ao3!

And a huge thank you to my beta harem, who have been with me on this journey for over a year now: @totheendtimes, @Nightshiftcaffeine, @ineffable-xenanigans, @nosferatini, @moderndayklutz, @Savyl and @TansyOgg

Additional in story art by Demented_DeMeown, @avadoingart-imus and @divinitydemon

CW for this chapter: Some depiction of injury, nothing graphic.

Summary: Crowley slips out of time. Excerpt:

The world swirled around him, blurring at the edges, until the shape that was Crowley began to unravel. The body he’d worn for almost sixty years — the skin, the bones, the last of his humanity — split along invisible seams as his soul leaked through the cracks. His flesh came apart, shredding into ribbons that danced away on the wind to be swallowed by the sea below.

His consciousness flared outward — expanding, stretching, becoming all encompassing. Every note he’d ever played, every lyric, every fragment of sound that had ever passed through his hands now thundered through him, resonating in infinite chords. There was no body left now, only music and memory burning through the wreckage of his soul. The sea roared in harmony below, the stars above adding an onomatopoeic twinkle no one but him could hear. And then he was everywhere.

Read the rest here on ao3. Want somewhere to discuss the chapter? Join the Braincell discord. And if you'd like to read chapter 15 early, it is available now to members of my Patreon. @goodomensafterdark

In memory, always, of xenanigans.

CW/TW: Noncon

Tags:

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omegaverse, Omega Crowley, Alpha Aziraphale, Knotting, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, Morning Sickness, Childbirth, Established Relationship, Oral Sex, Science Fiction, Astronaut Aziraphale, Crowley Whump, Angst, Stalking, Sexual Assault, Near Drowning, Dreams and Nightmares, Happy Ending

Fic summary:

Alpha Aziraphale Engel is an astronaut being sent to plant a set of nuclear warheads in a small asteroid that is threatening Earth, as part of Operation Flaming Sword. Omega Anthony Crowley is his clandestine lover and assigned to communications for the mission. The journey will be long, lonely, and perilous, but our two heroes soon find that space is not the only source of danger for them.

Chapter summary:

Aziraphale and Crowley try to come to an arrangement.

Excerpt:

"Crowley, before you begin," Aziraphale said, "I— just want to say that I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you." Crowley looked down at his feet. "Thank you," he said. Then he seemed to gather himself, looked up, and spoke. "Look, Angel, I don't want to pressure you. We both know what's at stake, and I have to accept that. So I guess—" "...we should take a break," said Aziraphale. "...I am going to offer my resignation," said Crowley, at the same time. "What?" they said to each other, simultaneously.

Many thanks to @totheendtimes and @littleweezel for beta reading! Y'all's gentle guidance and encouragement were so incredibly helpful.

Read the latest chapter here, or start from the beginning.

Cover art by @and-his-hands-were-24-crows Thank you so much, Crows! Please show them some support by checking out their work on Instagram and ao3!

And a huge thank you to my beta harem, who have been with me on this journey for over six months now: @totheendtimes, @Nightshiftcaffeine, @ineffable-xenanigans, @nosferatini, @moderndayklutz, @Savyl and @TansyOgg

Additional in story art by Demented_DeMeown and @avadoingart-imus

CW/TW for this chapter: Major character death, grief, depression

Summary:

In the wake of Crowley’s sacrifice, Aziraphale is left behind with a grief so vast it hollows him out and diminishes his divinity. In the aching silence of loneliness, he clings to the remnants of the life they once had: the Bentley faithfully navigating them around the great scars carved into the Earth, memories shared with Newt and Anathema, and Crowley’s music drifting softly through empty rooms.

Crowley doesn’t just remain present in memory however. He has left a permanent mark. The world is now scarred; continents split open by the terrible effort of his final song, humanity forever changed by the sound of his suffering. As society struggles to rebuild, something unexpected begins to emerge from the wreckage: compassion, reverence for the Earth, and the fragile hope that from destruction there can be rebirth.

Excerpt: The Bentley waited for him, parked outside the bookshop exactly where Crowley used to leave her. Her black paint gleamed faintly under the amber glow, and condensation beaded along her windows like tears. The headlights flickered once as he approached, in quiet acknowledgement.

“Hello, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, pressing an unsteady hand to her bonnet. The metal was warm and comforting under his palm. “Thank you for staying up for me.”

The Bentley responded with a low, gentle rumble. It reminded Aziraphale of the throat noises Crowley used to make when he was thinking, or when he was swallowing back words he couldn’t bring himself to say. The sound reverberated through Aziraphale’s fingers, up his arms, and into the hollow ache in his chest.

“I know,” he whispered. “The city feels emptier without him.”

The Bentley revved her engine once, and her radio crackled for a moment. Aziraphale half expected to hear Crowley’s voice, or at least one of his songs, but there was no melody to be found. Just static followed by silence.

Aziraphale’s throat tightened. He leaned against the driver's side door, half embracing the car, as absurd as it was. “I’ll look after you,” he promised.

The Bentley gave one final rumble, a low, tender sound, before her lights dimmed.

Aziraphale straightened up and looked towards the bookshop. It seemed unfamiliar now, too dark beyond the windows, too empty. Inside, the smell of paper and beeswax engulfed him like a shroud. 

He hung up his damp coat, stood in the centre of the shop, and listened. Rain pattered on the windows. Somewhere far off, a siren wailed and faded.

Crowley was gone.

He tried to read. He tried to eat. He tried to find some comfort in the familiar clutter of his bookshelves, but every gesture felt hollow. The world had slipped off its axis, and no miracle could set it right.

When he finally clambered upstairs to bed, he didn’t bother undressing. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the city outside: the hiss of tyres on wet pavement, the occasional murmur of late night voices. Life went on. Humanity went on.

But Crowley did not.

Aziraphale waited for sleep, but none came. Each time he closed his eyes, he heard the echo of that final scream. 

The sound of music itself tearing apart.

CW/TW: Noncon

Tags:

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omegaverse, Omega Crowley, Alpha Aziraphale, Knotting, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, Morning Sickness, Childbirth, Established Relationship, Oral Sex, Science Fiction, Astronaut Aziraphale, Crowley Whump, Angst, Stalking, Sexual Assault, Near Drowning, Dreams and Nightmares, Happy Ending

Summary:

Alpha Aziraphale Engel is an astronaut being sent to plant a set of nuclear warheads in a small asteroid that is threatening Earth, as part of Operation Flaming Sword. Omega Anthony Crowley is his clandestine lover and assigned to communications for the mission. The journey will be long, lonely, and perilous, but our two heroes soon find that space is not the only source of danger for them.

Excerpt:

"Crowley, love," asked Aziraphale earnestly, "what's all this about? About pups and claiming? Are you afraid I won't come back? Because I will. I swear it." "You can't know that," Crowley snapped. "Don't swear something like that, because there's no way you can know for sure." "I do know it," Aziraphale tried to reassure him. "I don't know how I know, I just do. I will come back, Crowley. And then I will mate you, give you my pups, anything you like. But we will do it properly, not in a rush, just because you're afraid—" "Of course I'm afraid!" exclaimed Crowley. "Why aren't you? You're going to fly out to where I can't reach you, no one can. And you're going to have a, a fucking great nuke and it has to go off. It has to explode, Angel. A fucking great nuclear bomb! And your life depends on having a perfect landing and having everything still working well enough that you can take off again! And then you have to fly back and land again! And I am going to have to watch you—" He broke off, sat up, and buried his face in his hands.

Huge thanks go to @totheendtimes and @littleweezel for all your help with beta-reading this beast! Your gentle suggestions and encouragement were a huge help, and I learned a lot from both of you.

This work is completely drafted and will have 26 chapters plus a very short epilogue.

Read it on AO3.

By LaudaddySmitten

Rating: G

Word count: 1616

Tags: Crack treated seriously, meta, No S3 spoilers, No S3 trailer spoilers

Summary

Does the fandom in general have a little bit of PTSD in response to the bandstand? Therapy is needed!

Read on AO3

Thanks as always to my fave go-to beta @totheendtimes for taking a lightning fast look at this silly little thing I wrote. 🥰

Cover art by @and-his-hands-were-24-crows Thank you so much, Crows! Please show them some support by checking out their work on Instagram and ao3!

And a huge thank you to my beta harem, who have been with me on this journey for over six months now: @totheendtimes, @Nightshiftcaffeine, @ineffable-xenanigans, @nosferatini, @moderndayklutz, @Savyl and @TansyOgg Additional in story art by Demented_DeMeown and @avadoingart-imus And a gorgeous new illustation this week, courtesy of @divinitydemon Thank you so much! CW/TW for this chapter: Explicit, suicidal ideation

Summary:

For a brief stretch of time, Crowley and Aziraphale allow themselves a fragile happiness. There are mornings spent in each other's arms, shared laughter and the comfort of loving each other without distance once again. But on their return to London, they find reality waiting for them: the world is dying, and they’re the only beings trying to stop it.

As Crowley spirals back into obsession and sleeplessness in his quest to save everyone, he begins to see an answer: vast, terrifying and likely irreversible. He knows it will break Aziraphale’s heart, but the choice is already made. To save the world, Crowley may have to destroy the peace they’ve only just found together.

Excerpt: Not wishing to keep inflicting his bad mood on Aziraphale, Crowley did the one thing he least wanted to do, but felt he ought to.

He asked for space.

Aziraphale took it gracefully, putting on a brave face and saying he understood. But the sad little smile he gave over his shoulder, just before the front door closed, stuck in Crowley’s mind, making him feel like the world’s worst bastard. Still, better he sulk alone than wear the angel’s shine down anymore than he already had. 

So, Crowley retreated to the sanctuary of his music room, asking not to be disturbed, and telling Aziraphale he’d compose for a few days, maybe crawl out the other side feeling like himself again. And if not, at least it would be productive.

He started by recording fragments of the songs he’d created while Satan had kept hold of his mind. It felt good to get them out, but even so, he hesitated, unsure where his words ended and Hell’s began. He sang until his throat was raw, chasing the manic, anguished laughter he remembered from the stage. It wasn’t pretty, but after a long session, after hours of hammering his inner darkness into melody, he found he could sleep a little easier when night fell.

The song that reminded him to breathe was different — cathartic, somehow. It pulled him back to Aziraphale holding him close, breathing with him, the angel’s light chasing the corruption from his veins as music poured from them both.

The day came when the rough demo was finished and he sat cross legged in the middle of the music room, letting the sound crash around him from every speaker. The chords built and broke and built again, rising and flaring in Crowley’s mind like a kind of cleansing fire. It wasn’t peaceful, exactly. But it was the closest thing Crowley could manage.

He didn’t notice when the line between inspiration and obsession blurred. He never did. But inevitably he stopped being so consciously aware of tinkering with beats and samples, instead simply letting music guide his movements, no longer paying attention to outside distractions like his phone or the need to rest as the days began to blur. He was possessed, in a way. Not by Hell, but by the desperate conviction this would be another chance to save the world. Read the rest here on ao3

Want somewhere to discuss the chapter? Join the braincell discord. And if you would like to read chapter 13 early, it is available now to members of my patreon.

Cover art by @and-his-hands-were-24-crows Thank you so much, Crows! Please show them some support by checking out their work on Instagram and ao3!

And a huge thank you to my beta harem, who have been with me on this journey for over six months now: @totheendtimes, @Nightshiftcaffeine, @ineffable-xenanigans, @nosferatini, @moderndayklutz, @Savyl and @TansyOgg Additional in story art by Demented_DeMeown and @avadoingart-imus CW/TW for this chapter: Gender dysmorphia, loss of virginity, pronoun change.

Summary:

Forcibly remade into a form that feels like a violation, Crowley struggles with dysphoria, shame and a deep sense of loss as he slowly recovers from his ordeal with Satan. Every sensation feels alien, his voice no longer his own, and he is too afraid to touch his instruments.

However, with Aziraphale by his side holding him steady, something begins to shift. Under all his grief, curiosity blooms, and Crowley begins to reclaim himself, discovering that what was meant as mockery may be something he can define on his own terms.

Excerpt: Crowley groaned, levering himself upright, as every bone in his body ached. He pushed his hair back from his face and muttered something incoherent before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Avoiding Aziraphale’s eyes, he staggered towards the bathroom. 

The mirror met him first.

For a long moment he only stared. His reflection stared back, both familiar and utterly alien. His jaw was softer now, his features slightly less pronounced, framed by much longer hair. The same serpentine eyes, but set into a body Satan had twisted for mockery. A body that was his now, whether he liked it or not.

It wasn’t the first time he’d blurred the lines, of course. He’d dabbled in androgyny before as a younger man: smudged eyeliner, lurid lipstick, fishnets beneath torn denim. He’d intended it as a provocation, and it had felt brave at the time — all part of a performance he could slip into when he pleased.

But this…

This wasn’t chosen. It wasn’t a look, or a mood, or a carefully constructed stage persona strutting beneath stage lights. This was flesh and bone.

Not to mention permanent.

He undressed with slow, reluctant movements, his now oversized clothes slipping from his new form. Naked before the mirror, there was nothing left to shield him from the truth. He looked away, jaw clenched, and turned on the shower. Steam fogged the glass and water ran over skin that didn’t feel like his. He pressed his palms against the tiled wall, head bowed in grief.

What have I done?

Read the rest here on ao3 Want somewhere to talk about the chapter? Join The Braincell Discord here. And if you'd like to read chapter 12 a fortnight early, it is available now to members of my Patreon.