#good omens big bang

This work is my contribution to the good omens big bang (@goodomensbigbang.) It was painted for the fanfiction, “Name the Sky”, by Nieded.

War of Attrition

Author:@out-there-tmblr
Artist:@bootsssss

“It’s rather lovely.” Aziraphale holds it up, carefully brushing the crumbs off and looking at the bird in flight. “Such delicate work.”

Crowley shrugs. “Keep it.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s hardly my colour scheme,” Crowley replies. The look Aziraphale gives him is far too knowing.

***

Three presents Crowley gave Aziraphale.

My second piece of art for the @goodomensbigbang​.

It’s for the fic Pulling Heaven Downby@mudhorns​ which you should all read. There you can also find the animated version of this picture

My first piece of art for the @goodomensbigbang.

It’s for the fic Pulling Heaven Downby@mudhorns which you should all read

mudhorns:

Title:Pulling Heaven Down

Word Count:17,454

Archive Warnings: N/A

Rating:M

Pairing(s): Crowley x Aziraphale

Character(s): Crowley, Aziraphale, Anathema Device, The Them

Tags: Alternate Universe - Paranormal Investigations, Happy Ending, Human AU (sort of!), Rivals to Friends to Lovers

Summary: Anthony J. Crowley is the best paranormal investigator in London. From minor poltergeist problems to full blown exorcisms, he does it all, satisfaction guaranteed. There’s only one catch: it’s all a con.  At least, that’s what Crowley thinks. A run in with a strange, ethereal competitor threatens to turn Crowley’s world upside down, and before he knows it he finds himself caught up in affairs that might be way, way above his paygrade.

Artist:@flashbastardwithsunglasses who not only created the amazing banner, a hilarious fake 90s website, but also amazing art pieces displayed throughout the fic. I couldn’t be more lucky! I’ll be linking their art back here shortly.

Beta:@unfinishedduet as ever, who I am constantly grateful for.

nivellesart:

Crowley and Aziraphale, drawn for What comes Afterin the Good Omens Big Bang 2019

My piece for @saturniiddae’s excellent fic Everyday, for the @goodomensbigbang! This was so much fun to work on and the fic is full of so many funny moments and so many moments that just ruined me. I’m still not over the Bentley scene from chapter 11. Please, please read it.

Excerpt:

Aziraphale is not a running sort of person. He’ll walk as briskly as possible, perhaps he’ll even jog along for a little bit, but he does not run. Occasionally, Crowley will, and Aziraphale is content to wave him along and huff.

He didn’t even run during the Apocalapse. But he runs now—never-mind that he can just will himself into the garden. As he rushes through the cottage, he grabs the first thing he can put his hands on, desperate for some sort of weapon to use.

He clutches the wooden handle of the old straw broom in his hand, tossing the back door of the cottage open with just a thought.

He skids to a halt, shock immobilizing him as three demons whirl about, their already smug expressions twisting with glee as they take stock of the angel panting in the doorway.

Aziraphale’s breath catches, eyes dropping from their faces—unoriginal, ripped, marred, festering—to their feet. Slumped among the roots of their apple tree is Crowley, his body alarmingly slack and pale.

Aziraphale shouts, and in an instant, he sets upon the demons. With a flick of his wrist, his broom catches fire as he swings it at the first demon. It’s not his sword, but it’ll do.

“Get! Get away from him!” he shouts, beaning one squarely about the shoulders with the broom.

My pieces for @theoldaquarian’s wonderful fic In Mixed Company, for @goodomensbigbang! Working on these panels and getting to read the fic and see @mendacity17’s excellent graphic design work ahead of time was a delight, and I cannot recommend it enough!! (please click to enlarge for quality,)

Excerpt:

An ancient amplifier crackled, then an AC/DC song blared from the front of the room as Crowley sauntered to the podium. He was carrying a clicker and an uncertain smile. A projector screen unscrolled from above, bringing with it several moldering clumps of ceiling. Crowley made a motion to someone in the next room to cut the music, then he pulled out an index card, frowned at it, and shuffled to get a different index card in front.

“Right, er, welcome to Hell.” Crowley clicked once and a slide appeared with WELCOME TO HELL surrounded by multiple low-resolution clip art images of flames.

Someone raised a hand. Crowley nodded.

‘Is this supposed to be a joke?”

“Er, if you wouldn’t mind, let’s hold questions until the end of the presentation,” Crowley said, smoothing the frayed edge of his jacket like he wished he could do to the frayed edge of his nerves. He glanced at the slide. “Right, just to be clear, I’m not the graphic designer.”