What's with the babyfic?
Never been much for that before.
I blame waxbean, abstractly.
So I wrote this drabble about poor harrassed Crowley and the ickle baby Antichrist, right? And corporal_katz wanted more. But I asked for something in return: Hastur and Ligur babysitting fic. And I got...
this. Oh God. Oh God.
Can't possibly top that. ETA: Friendslocked, darn it. Waiting for her to do something about that!
ETA II: Link fixed - she posted it at lower_tadfield. Brave!
But I promised, so...here we go. One of the most terrifying Good Omens AUs possible, if I do say so myself.
Exodus
Words: 100
Rating: G, I guess.
Characters: Crowley, Aziraphale, Adam.
It wasn’t as if no distraught woman carrying an infant had ever appealed to Aziraphale for help before. It wasn’t even unusual for them to be evasive about it (in one extraordinary case, Aziraphale had to get the real story from Gabriel).
It was unusual for them to ask such a dramatic thing of him, as the brunette in sunglasses with the indecently cute baby boy shoved the fake passports at him.
“I couldn’t hand him over to Americans, Aziraphale,” said the presently woman-shaped but very unmatronly demon. “I’ve got contacts in Argentina. Don’t worry, there are books there.”
I blame waxbean, abstractly.
So I wrote this drabble about poor harrassed Crowley and the ickle baby Antichrist, right? And corporal_katz wanted more. But I asked for something in return: Hastur and Ligur babysitting fic. And I got...
this. Oh God. Oh God.
Can't possibly top that. ETA: Friendslocked, darn it. Waiting for her to do something about that!
ETA II: Link fixed - she posted it at lower_tadfield. Brave!
But I promised, so...here we go. One of the most terrifying Good Omens AUs possible, if I do say so myself.
Exodus
Words: 100
Rating: G, I guess.
Characters: Crowley, Aziraphale, Adam.
It wasn’t as if no distraught woman carrying an infant had ever appealed to Aziraphale for help before. It wasn’t even unusual for them to be evasive about it (in one extraordinary case, Aziraphale had to get the real story from Gabriel).
It was unusual for them to ask such a dramatic thing of him, as the brunette in sunglasses with the indecently cute baby boy shoved the fake passports at him.
“I couldn’t hand him over to Americans, Aziraphale,” said the presently woman-shaped but very unmatronly demon. “I’ve got contacts in Argentina. Don’t worry, there are books there.”