alizaphale

[alizaphale]

The Wall Scene, if I’d had any fuckin’ say in it…

Mlem 😌

I mean, who wouldn’t.

[alizaphale]

Good Omens Ao3 wrapped is here! It's a bit of a long post but it goes quick:)

Drumroll please!!!

Shoutout to @feiandart for all her work on this piece!

But of course, there's more! It's been a long year for the fandom, and we all processed a lot of feelings about things. Here's how we coped:

Reminder that as a reader, your comments often mean the world to writers! Fandom is a community first and foremost<3

You can click here for a more in depth explanation of the math and the raw data! This assessment is pulled by hand from the Good Omens (TV) fandom category on Archive of Our Own.

Image credits: Unsplash free images for the art and Canva stock images. Image credits in order where available:

Photo by Cassi Josh on Unsplash

Photo by Codioful (Formerly Gradienta) on Unsplash

Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash

Photo by Geordanna Cordero on Unsplash

Photo by Tim Arterbury on Unsplash

Photo by Ahmad Dirini on Unsplash

Photo by Maria Orlova on Unsplash

Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

Photo by MontyLov on Unsplash

Average adult reading rate as cited is 240 wpm found on ScienceDirect.

Please reblog rather than repost, but you're welcome to share to other platforms as long as you credit me!

[alizaphale]

I am truly a nobody in the vast fandom that is GO. I stand on the periphery reblogging things with thirsty tags and reading fics. However, I love this book and show with my whole heart.

I am standing here holding both ends of the dialectic: I am sad, devastated that we won’t get our 6 episodes and all the lovely bits that will need to be cut. I am sad we won’t have more than 90 minutes of David and Michael acting out the characters that they and we love so dearly. I am exhausted that another fandom has been hurt by the bad actions of one man. And my heart aches for the victim survivors.

And, too, I am relieved and grateful that those who could fought bts for us to even get those 90 minutes. I am grateful we get to see Terry’s dream ending and David and Michael together on our screens again. I am aware (though realize I don’t know the full details) of how close we came to getting nothing at all. 90 minutes is a short movie but I remember so much can happen in a movie and all the world building has been done.

Outside and beyond this dialectic, I want to express gratitude to the fandom. The bits that I see from where I stand on the edges is a delight. I see people giving others permission to mourn and permission to celebrate and the nuance to recognize both can be true at the same time. I see posts encouraging others to have faith that those bts love this story as much as we do (if not more) and as a result we are not facing total cancellation by Amazon.

I see fans stepping in to provide comfort and reassurance where before we may have turned to the one man who nearly wrecked this all for all of us. Many looked up to him as a type of parent figure, especially queer people who may not have had a supportive parent in their own lives. And I see the fandom as a whole stepping into the void that was left. He didn’t make GO and the fandom the magical place it is, the fans have done that.

And for that, I am endlessly grateful.

[alizaphale]

Hi everyone,

This is basically just a rant, letting out all my thoughts and worries. If you have any helpful words, I'd appreciate it, though I don't expect much since I have like 5 people following me here...

Thoughts and worries under the cut.

I was meaning to go to London on Thursday. It's the school holidays where I am (teacher here) and I've been looking forward to the trip for ages. Seeing friends, feeding my hyperfixation, getting some alone nerd-time etc. It was meant to be great!

For the last few weeks (? Months?) though I've been having breathing problems and dizzy spells, and one night my heart beat did really weird things. So I thought, good thing I have time off coming up. I can relax and recharge in England.

Ever since the holidays started though the problems have gotten worse and have caused panic attacks (or has it been anxiety all along?). I'm constantly overwhelmed by everything, don't know how to make it to London by myself with the way I'm feeling, at the same time I'm terrified to let my British friends down and I'm just curled up at home alternately wheezing and crying.

Am I just failing life because I don't seem to be able to handle a job and household tasks and the amount of me time that I seem to need? How do people squeeze all of that into their days? I'm constantly stressed and constantly feel like I'm failing.

I'm wondering if I might have autistic traits but getting a diagnosis is nearly impossible. Plus, I feel like I'm not struggling enough? And I don't want to "water down" the term neurodiverse by using it for me even though I might not be that at all. I'm worried I'd be laughed at or be like one of those people who self-diagnose to feel special. I just want to know why life is so exhausting for me when other people seem to cope fine with a similar or even higher workload. Am I just weak?

What do I do???

[alizaphale]

Is it possibile not to love him immensely? 😂😂😂

[Michael on X]

[alizaphale]

don’t!!! fake!!!! your!!!! interests!!!! to!!!! make!!!! someone!!!! like!!!!! you!!!!

[alizaphale]

Sometimes I lie in bed or walk my dog and suddenly it hits me how ridiculous the whole concept of money is.

We give away our time to work to earn money, even though it's easy to print money but no-one can print time.

I know it's an old idea but every now and then I think of it and it still boggles my mind...

[alizaphale]

Super lovely and fun commission!!

Ask : Aziraphale and Crowley with my cat and dog who looks like them

[alizaphale]

i hate it when i cant even write a poem about something because its too obvious. like in the airbnb i was at i guess it used to be a kids room cause you could see the imprint of one little glow in the dark star that had been missed and painted over in landlord white. like that's a poem already what's the point

[alizaphale]

“Keep it weird!”

Dude kinda sounds like Scottish Gru there lol

@excellentbirbs

[alizaphale]

Crowley wearing a pronoun pin that changes what pronouns it shows each time someone looks at it and everyone around him wants to be respectful and are understanding of the fact that people can change which pronouns they use/have multiple pronouns but at the same time they could have sworn the pin said she/her like two seconds ago and now it's he/they and a blink later it's he/him. Everyone thinks they are hallucinating. Crowley is a nuisance and he loves it. Aziraphale is fondly exasperated.

[alizaphale]

btw dating sucks as a concept.

[alizaphale]

@ august please be a little gentle with me I’m so tired

[alizaphale]

(JACK HARKNESS; UTOPIA, UNKNOWN, AS LONG AS THERE IS LOVE, THERE WILL BE GRIEF; HEIDI PRIEBE, AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN; ANNE SEXTON, TENTH DOCTOR; UTOPIA)

TENTH DOCTOR + JACK HARKNESS

[alizaphale]

i can’t stop thinking about this so what if the reason we have some really weird food combinations is because of crowley? like he tries to make new stuff for aziraphale but he’s kinda bad at it lol

crowley: here angel i think you’ll like these two things together

aziraphale: watermelon..and mustard?

crowley(proud): yeah!

aziraphale(tearing up because at least he tried): thank you dear

[alizaphale]

So, we just had something that could be classified as a torrential downpour, and since I don't have someone who'd be happy to shelter under an awning with me, I grabbed my dog, went outside and jumped into puddles until I realised my dog gave me the stinkeye whenever I did that.

Completely unrelated, but I could totally see Crowley jumping into puddles while Aziraphale is walking next to him, and the angel gets increasingly indignant...

I would definitely write a little oneshot for it (including Crowley miracleing Aziraphale's clothes dry and clean again) but I feel like this wants a picture. Anyone feeling inspired to draw them in the rain without an awning? 😄

[alizaphale]

Proised oneshot under the cut.

Puddles

The rain clouds had caught him completely off guard.

It was supposed to be a nice day. Well, not nice. Obviously not nice. Nice was a four letter word. Nice wasn't an acceptable description for something Crowley had planned. No. Uh uh.

But it was supposed to be dry. Sunny even. There. Three letters. Five letters. Crisis averted. Breathe. In. And out.

Good.

Good, that was better. 

Now. The interference of the rain with his ni-, bloody picnic plans. 

What was is with humans and their weather forecasts anyway? Had that been him?

Crowley searched his brain for a memory involving atmospheric pressure measuring instruments and a bit of demonic tempering. 

Oh. Well. Okay. Might have been him. 

Not the problem right now, though. 

He briefly considered a tiny miracle just to get rid of the rain, but hell would probably have a few things to say about that. And how would he explain that?

"Sorry, guys. Yeah, no worries. Just had to woo a prim little bitch angel friend of mine. Ciao."

That just didn't seem like a viable option. 

Right. Rain it was then. 

He cast a side glance at his angel, and realised that Aziraphale hadn’t noticed the clouds yet.

„Better pack up, angel. Rain incoming,“ he said, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of the clouds. Aziraphale turned his head and his face went through a number of different motions. Crowley was sure he saw a pinch of annoyance and a teaspoon of disappointment before it settled on something resembling cheerfulness. His angel was gonna try to gloss over the fact that he was disappointed.

Crowley sighed. Always the people-pleaser, his angel. Well. Demon-pleaser. Crowley-pleaser? That left a bunch of other options open, that Crowley didn’t want to contemplate right now.

„Quite right, my dear. Well spotted. Let me just…,“ Aziraphale uttered, leaning forward to empty his glass of wine and carefully picking up a few more strawberries and one of the pastry-things Crowley had brought. He hadn’t bothered to remember what they were. He knew Aziraphale liked them, so he had pointed at them in the bakery. That was all he needed to know or do.

Crowley smiled as he watched Aziraphale chewing a strawberry, eyes closed and relishing the taste despite the clouds. Trust the angel to get wrapped up in food when they had to dodge a potentially torrential downpour.

Crowley looked up at the clouds again (fucking hell, they were dark), and started picking up foods, cuttlery and crockery at random to throw them in the basket. What broke would get mended. What made a mess would get cleaned. He didn’t have time to care about that now.

When everything was inside the basket, Crowley unfolded his legs and pushed himself off the ground as gracefully as he could master (and let’s face it, getting gracefully from a sitting (well, slouching) into a (somewhat) standing position was one of his strengths). He allowed himself a brief moment to stretch his limbs, when the sound of rain hit his ears. He turned around to look.

He could basically see the line of rain approaching them. And some rain it was.

Fuck.

Keeping an eye on the rain, he bend down to get the picnic blanket of the ground, but it didn’t move when he gave it a tug. He looked. And for a moment he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or shout.

„Ngk. Aziraphale. Now’s not the time for savouring the taste of - whatever you have there. We need to move!“, he said through gritted teeth, and Aziraphale must have heard the urgency in his tone because he looked up just as the first raindrops started coming down on him.

His lips formed a perfect little o, as he looked at Crowley and for a split second Crowley was tempted to laugh. But then he saw the angel’s shoulder going up towards his ears and his head being tucked between them to shelter from the rain. The pity for Aziraphale lasted for about a tenth of a second, because then the rain started to hit him as well and he could already feel the damp seeping into his clothes. Bloody hell.

Aziraphale had scrambled off the ground and was standing a couple of feet away from Crowley. The angel had actually picked up the picnic blanket and had wrapped it around his shoulders, protecting his head from getting too wet as well.

Crowley looked at him, and saw the discomfort and disappointment on Aziraphale’s face as he slowly got drenched.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

This was his fault. If it hadn’t been for his stupid idea, Aziraphale would be sitting in the dry comfort of his shop with a cup of tea and a book. But Crowley had to drag him outside for a bloody picnic.

Stupid fucking Crowley. Always making things worse.

He had to make it better somehow. But how?

He wrecked his brain.

Richard Curtis films came to mind with their downpours and awnings and love confessions and wasn’t that a thought?! But of course, there was no bloody awning anywhere near them. Whoever designed this park really hadn’t thought it through. Crowley made a mental note to find that person and glue coins onto the pavement wherever they’d go.

But right now he needed a way to wipe the disappointment off the angel’s face. And he needed it quickly, because Aziraphale would probably start wondering why Crowley hadn’t moved at all for the last ten seconds.

„Come on, angel. No point in standing here,“ he shouted over the rain and started moving towards the general direction of the bookshop.

They hurried down the path, Aziraphale still wrapped up in the picnic blanket, Crowley’s brain still hung up on the problem how he could turn this situation into something special. After all, they had a history with rain. He wouldn’t allow rain to get a bad reputation. After all, it had been rain what had brought him and Aziraphale closer together once again, on the wall of the garden of Eden, after his fall. He had to find someth--.

He stepped around a puddle when it suddenly hit him.

Yeah, rain was wet and disgusting and it would soak through all your clothes, skin, muscles, inner organs and bones to turn you into a miserable ,oving bag of water. If you would let it.

But he had seen humans embrace the rain, turn their faces towards the clouds, spinning around, jumping into puddles.

Jumping into puddles.

Crowley dropped his shoulders and threw his head back, watching raindrops landing on his sunglasses. Then he located the puddle nearest to Aziraphale’s path, quickly calculated how long it would take the angel to get there and charged.

Well. Charged might be too big a word. Plus, charging wouldn’t really get the best splashing results. This was all about the knees and putting your feet flat down on the ground. So that‘s what he did.

Just when Aziraphale reached the puddle, Crowley did his best to take the smallest, flat-footed, forceful steps right into the water, splashing water in all directions: up his trouser leg, into the snakeskin on his feet – and onto Aziraphale.

The angel shot him a piqued look and Crowley answered with a broad grin.

„Come on, angel. You can get all upset and sad about the picnic being cut short, or…“

„Or?“

„Or you can help me find the deepest puddle and the best way to jump into it!“

Aziraphale’s face expressed confusion, incredulity and landed right on bitchy. Crowley grinned. Aziraphale’s eyebrows climbed even further up his forehead.

„Absolutely not, Crowley. My coat. My trousers. It would take a miracle to get them clean again.“

„Guess what?! You’re an angel, angel. Miracles is what your lot does, isn’t it?!“

„Well, yes. But… it’s frivolous.“

Crowley sighed. His hair was sticking to his head, let alone his clothes sticking to his body. And here he was, arguing about miracling clothes clean in the middle of a torrential downpour.

„Alright. I’ll do it then. You find a big puddle and have a good splash, and I’ll miracle your clothes all clean and dry afterwards.“

Crowley’s head followed his eyes as he rolled them at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. Then he saw the soft smile on Aziraphale’s face and didn’t care anymore about how ridiculous it was.

Suddenly, a mischivous streak entered Aziraphale’s eyes, and before Crowley’s brain could compute the change of expression, Aziraphale leaped into the puddle Crowley was already standing in, drenching their trouser legs in even more water.

„Oh, angel, you didn’t,“ Crowley muttered fighting to keep a certain level of threat in his voice, while in truth he was utterly delighted at the angel’s bastard side showing once more.

„But, it seems that I did, my dear,“ Aziraphale replied with a small smirk on his face.

„Just you wait, angel. I’ll find the biggest deepest puddle you have every laid eyes on, and I’ll drench your precious coat in dirty puddle water,“ Crowley hissed.

„I would certainly like to see you try,“ Aziraphale said, tone carefully aloof, before he turned and ran, weaving through the puddles. Crowley let out a noise, half hiss, half laugh, then chased after the angel, doing his best to anticipate Aziraphale’s path to make good on his coat-drenching-prom—THREAT. It was a threat. Definitely a threat.

And it had nothing to do with the way Aziraphale’s drenched clothes clung to his body. No, your honour. Not that at all.

So, we just had something that could be classified as a torrential downpour, and since I don't have someone who'd be happy to shelter under an awning with me, I grabbed my dog, went outside and jumped into puddles until I realised my dog gave me the stinkeye whenever I did that.

Completely unrelated, but I could totally see Crowley jumping into puddles while Aziraphale is walking next to him, and the angel gets increasingly indignant...

I would definitely write a little oneshot for it (including Crowley miracleing Aziraphale's clothes dry and clean again) but I feel like this wants a picture. Anyone feeling inspired to draw them in the rain without an awning? 😄