The idea of Aziraphale being a Pirate Captain is so patently absurd that Crowley has no choice but to stowaway on his ship. Which is precisely how Crowley ends up in the brig of a pirate ship, manacled to an angel who is wearing a distracting amount of velvet, lace and silk stockings.

Good Omens. Crowley and Aziraphale pose as husbands for a house party, because Aziraphale is bad at saying no (to anyone but Crowley and anyone trying to buy books). Crowley thinks this is a good chance to prove himself the perfect potential demon husband to a fussy angel. But things get complicated fast. Really complicated. A lot of pining, a lot of shopping and restaurants and party games, some near misses, but no sex until chapter 24 (and all of 25).

Thea Cassidy has been carving out a quiet career as a military archeologist, far from the scandals of her past. It provides a cover for her true role as one of the Eyes of the Empress, a secret police organisation working for the Human Empress. After her latest memory wipe of a mission, Thea expects to resume her official identity for a while. Instead, she finds herself promoted to Captain of an ancient colonial transport ship and given an ill-defined mission. It's her last chance to prove herself, and the consequences for failure are high. Thea is used to lying, to deceiving, to creating and betraying trust. She's not prepared for her strange sense of affinity with her bridge crew, or the resurfacing of memories that are supposed to be forever deleted. If she can't figure out what's going on in time, the consequences will be far worse than her own death. She'll lose everything she has come to care about.

Frustrated by how long Her otp are taking to become canon, God informs the Archangels that the Ineffable Plan is dependent on them falling in love with each other. The Archangels then take it upon themselves to get the pair together. Cue five Archangels attempting to orchestrate a Meet Cute between two people who have been hiding their friendship for thousands of years at this point.

The people of The Land of the Sleeping Bear have many stories, but most prominent in their tales is the Bone Man, a once-warrior-king who in death dwells in their land and watches over them. Compilation of folk stories from the fictional Land of the Sleeping Bear, centering on their folk-hero and custodial-god the Bone Man.

8 oneshots for Ineffable Husbands Week 2019. All Crowley/Aziraphale, all the angel and demon boy in love, you know the drill. Day 1: Music Day 2: Rain/Storm/Downpour Day 3: Falling

"Oh. Yeah." Crowley shuffled his feet, looking surprisingly boyish. "Come to New York with me tomorrow?" Aziraphale blinked. "Why?" "To see how Warlock is doing," Crowley said, as if that was obvious. "Warlock?" He blinked again, and Crowley looked annoyed. Unfortunately what came out of his mouth was, "You were the one who suggested killing the boy." "It wasn't personal." Crowley took off his dark glasses, apparently the better to glare at him. "He's still our kid." "B-but, Crowley, he's not our kid," Aziraphale said helplessly, wondering if Crowley was going insane or if he was. "You're a terrible father for an angel," Crowley said, accusingly. "I'm a demon, and I make a far better mother." --- Aziraphale is almost certain that Crowley is only being perverse. But demons are unaccountable creatures, and Aziraphale finds himself flying to New York with him anyway.

That was no way to think, just because a stupid ex-nun misinterpreted a blamelessly hostile situation. That way lay madness. That way lay an angel with disapprovingly pursed lips and pitying pale eyes and "My dear boy, I'm so *very* sorry, but..." and Armageddon would come as a relief after that, really.

Aziraphale would forgive him, of course. He always did. That had always been the Hell of it. It had been stupid to think things would be any different this time. It was a game they had been playing a long, long time, and he was all kinds of fool and idiot if he was going to suddenly start taking it seriously, even if only a few days ago he had thought Aziraphale was dead. Our side. It would be nice, really nice, if there was an *our side.* To be honest with himself, there was nothing in all the universe he wanted more. "I'll pick you up at eight," he repeated to the closed door, and headed back to the flat to take it out on the plants.