Duddits



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    Aziraphale bleeds. Is bleeding. He’s wearing human skin, after all.

    They’re in Crowley’s kitchen. Aziraphale preparing sashimi in paper-thin slices, when he lets out a little “Oh!” of surprise, drops the knife, clattering onto the granite countertop. Crowley looks up, sees the look on his face, shocked, and a little pale, and the ooze of dark red squeezing between the fingers he’s wrapped tightly around his left pointer finger, and he’s on his feet and at his side in less than a heartbeat.

    “Let me see it.”

    “Oh, I’m sure it’s quite fine. Silly me. Not watching what I was doing.”

    “Give it!” Crowley insists.

    “Oh dear me. I think I’m going to…” Aziraphale weaves a little, and Crowley reaches out and grabs him by both arms, reaching behind himself with one foot, to hook chair and yank it toward them.

    “Sit.” He says a little more gently, easing the Angel down. “Show me.”

    Language:
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    24 Sep 2020

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    “Mr. Crowley, I presume?” Aziraphale asked in lieu of an introduction, which was not forthcoming. The guy hadn’t even removed his sunglasses. Oh God, he had a tattoo on his face. Aziraphale wasn’t one to judge, but… what kind of gardener had a snake tattoo on his face?

    Now also available as a podfic from Literarion

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    11/11
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    24 Sep 2020

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    I have lived my whole life with a wrecked heart. Fr. Aziraphale Fell’s present mirrors his past, as long ago roommate, classmate, and former friend Anthony Crowley reappears in his life in an unexpected and disarming way, challenging Aziraphale’s choices, and bringing him back to the breaking point, when he made a decision he couldn’t take back. It isn’t temptation, it’s revelation.

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    11 Sep 2020

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    The house on Neibolt was standing again.

    Bill was talking about going in alone. How?

    “So does somebody want to say something?” Eddie asked, still breathing, still fucking breathing and alive and not dripping his Goddamn organs out of his chest.

    “Richie said it the b-best when we were here last,” Bill said.

    “Holy fuck.”

    Language:
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    21 Aug 2020

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    Versailles, 1769 - Aziraphale has a blessing to perform at a masquerade ball and it's important that he gets this one right. So important, in fact, that he can't seem to leave until he does.
    But with a fancy dress, an attentive demon and an endless supply of champagne, it's a little challenging to stay on mission.

    Language:
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    Chapters:
    5/5
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    27 Jul 2020