sonnetsterlingwritesstuff

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

Stop this is so wholesome-

Random Good Omens, Crowley, nebula... thoughts!

We know Crowley created a nebula, and was quite upset at the idea that his beauty would serve only as a "wallpaper" for humankind.

So I wonder if magazines, scientific studies about stars, planets etc...is like reading fanfictions for Crowley ? A show of appreciation, fasination mostly from human for his work, unknown to human of course. I know he didn't create the whole stars system buttt still.

I can imagine him grumbling about every inacuracies, but also I would imagine he would be happy. Happy, maybe, that there are such magazines or studies about stars systems and planets he didn't think humans would ever be gazing upon but found a way to eventually.

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

An Odyssey Of Blurred Lines- Chapter One

You guys spoke, and I listened! I'm going to be publishing my long-form fic on Ao3. Now, I'm not going to post the full chapters here because I still plan on posting oneshots and I don't want it to get too jumbled and confusing. BUT I will post links! So... here goes nothing!

Chapter One

Words: 4338

Teaser:

The first impression Aziraphale got of the thing huddling in the corner of the enclosure was that it seemed distinctly young - certainly younger than him. It was young and weak . The grey robe that it wore was a stark contrast to a palored skin- the type that one could just tell hadn’t seen the light of day (or of Heaven) in a very long time. A dishevelled display of mousy brown locks grew to just about halfway down its neck. If he looked closely, he could see its eyes, glossy with tears. Its irises were an array of green, blue and grey flecks. But most notably, it was sheltering itself with wings- wings in the same midpoint shade of grey that enveloped the entire room. The wings looked so… unused . This thing , or person , mirrored that. It didn’t look frail, but it did look… almost like something that was left unopened on a shelf. Like a collector’s item. It also looked absolutely miserable. Aziraphale felt a slight pang in his chest that only intensified the longer he stared at it, something growing in the pit of his stomach.

“Is it an angel?” He asked breathily, truly unsure of what to make of it. 

“It is not.” The Metatron shook his head. “Nor is it a demon, nor a human, nor any variety of creature one might find elsewhere from the heights of the heavens to the depths of hell. It is The Grey.”

“The Grey…” Aziraphale muttered softly. 

“The spawn of a demon and an angel.” The Metatron hummed. “That which was never meant to be.”

Summary: With every bit of information Aziraphale is recieving re: The Second Coming, he is liking it less and less. But this might just be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

What Should I Post Next?

So I have multiple ideas buttttttt I am indecisive. These are Good Omens related because hyperfixation I don't make the rules

Flashback Inspired Oneshot is Wild West inspired and will feature a femme-presenting Crowley, sneks, cowboy shenanigans, Aziraphale thinking they've got another quirky talent (they're not actually very good at it, hilarity ensues) and every bit of crackness you'd expect from those two being plunked into the Wild West.

Long form fic features lots of queerness, a plot-relevant OC that has just been a blorbo for years since I watched season one (but like fits into the ensemble scheme of things, it's not an OC-centric piece necessarily), and a shit ton of much-needed character development (looks at Aziraphale). I've already written like six chapters of it but I'm hoarding it rn-

Both are fun! I just don't know which to post first lmao.

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

One of the truths any Good Omens fic writer must acknowledge is that Michael Sheen may read any of our fics at any time and we will probably never know it

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

My favorite kind of email to get ❤️❤️❤️

Link here to the much-loved fic in question

Also yes, gays, we’re winning.

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

I See Stars (Good Omens)

I sobbed while writing this y’all are so welcome-

Ao3 here (remember if you like the fic, support on both platforms by liking/ reblogging here and giving kudos on Ao3 😁)

Genre: Angst/ Fluff

Words: 3,823

TL;DR: Heaven has officially robbed Crowley of every beautiful thing he’s ever had. But as he’s woken from his slumber unexpectedly, perhaps he might find that all is not lost.

Crowley groaned, his vision swimming and his head pounding. He dared to pull the covers down slightly from over his head for a moment, the light flooding in and overwhelming his senses. What was he doing awake? He’d promised himself that he’d sleep for a century or two, now that he was back in his apartment. He’d take a nice, long nap, and allow himself some time for the pain to go away. Then, he’d wake up, force himself to forget about it, and go on about his life. Although at the moment it didn’t feel like there was much of a life for him to get on with.

It hadn’t hit him until he was three bottles of wine down on the floor of his apartment how intertwined their lives had been. Even if they hadn’t always been working together, if they hadn’t always seen each other, they knew the other one was there. They knew that they weren’t alone. In a sense, they’d relied on each other- sometimes as an escape route out of situations that would have gotten them into some serious trouble, sometimes just as someone who understood. But knowing that he could make his way to the Ritz and find Aziraphale waiting at a table to talk to him, to share all they’d learned… it had made existence much less miserable.

I forgive you. Out of all the things the angel could have said to him, that had to have been the cruelest. As though Crowley confessing how he really felt about something, being honest, was some form of cardinal sin. Actually, that was the way he’d always been treated for expressing his truth. First, it had gotten him booted out of Heaven, thrown into the scalding, sulphuric pits. His entire essence had been rewritten in fire, his form cast into an animal. It had robbed him of the ability to see his life’s work- the beauty of his own creation. He hadn’t thought about it for a while, but now the wound felt fresher than ever. His eyes-his snake eyes… He couldn’t see further than a few feet in front of him, much less up to the sky to see stars. She’d robbed him of his stars… and now she’d robbed him of the only other beauty in his life.

Aziraphale was much more human than he’d ever care to admit. Crowley had seen it, though. It hadn’t been very hard at all to ‘corrupt’ the angel- to talk him into partaking in the more human pleasures of life, like food and wine and music. Once he’d opened himself up to those, he’d become a very different person- a friend, almost. They didn’t dare label it that, though. They couldn’t. Once Aziraphale had, wittingly or not, put some trust into Crowley… life had become easier. Days had become brighter, music sweeter, and books all the more interesting (although they were scrolls back in those days). Crowley might even venture to say that he’d felt some genuine joy in the times he’d shared with Aziraphale. But now… it was like the angel had gone all the way back to square one.

He really should have seen it coming. Angels just didn’t get it. It was like they were programmed. No matter when or how the Almighty called, in spite of anything She’d done to them… any angel would run back into Her arms. For Crowley to think that Aziraphale would be any different was foolish. Aziraphale might have pushed some limits as to what angels were and weren’t capable of, but if he’d really been all Crowley had thought him to be he would have been shown the shaft years ago. Maybe Crowley had known that. Maybe it was why he’d liked the angel so much.

He had to stop. He had to get a grip on himself and get back to sleep. He pulled the covers back over himself, allowing the darkness to envelope him again and letting out a sigh in relief. It can’t have been very long since he crashed into the bed- he was fairly sure he was still hung over. Although maybe he was just groggy. He could never tell anymore- it was almost like he was feeling old, even though he knew that ought to be impossible. He rolled around a little bit to find a comfortable position and let the bed sink around him, shaping itself to his form. Once he was settled, he let out a soft hum, closing his eyes and starting to lull into sleep… which was immediately disturbed by a light rapping on his door.

His brows furrowed and he let out a groan. Who in the world was that? He grumbled, fumbling for his glasses and putting them on before lowering his covers and getting out of the bed. Whoever this was had better have one hell of a reason to be disturbing him during his nap. He would have missed it entirely had he been a couple more minutes into his slumber, and a part of him wished that he had. He wasn’t actually sure why he had responded- he shouldn’t have. Perhaps he was still riling for a fight- some way to get all the anger pent up within him out. Whatever the case, he was up now, sauntering sloppily towards the door and summoning a quick miracle to straighten himself up. There was no need for him to look as awful as he felt. As he opened the door, his heart stopped.

“No.” The demon sighed, before immediately moving to slam the door shut.

“Crowley, wait!” The guest on the other side of the door pleaded, catching it.

“Fuck off, Angel.” The demon growled with what could almost be identified as a threat in his tone, pushing it. “I’don’ wanna see you.”

“No… I’d imagine you wouldn’t.” Aziraphale grunted lightly, having to put quite a lot of force into keeping the door open. “I’ve come to apologize.”

“A little late for that, don’t you think?” Crowley scoffed.

The angel had some nerve, showing up on his doorstep and expecting to be welcomed. Had Aziraphale learned nothing of Crowley’s nature in their time together? Crowley had given the angel his trust- something that he did not give to anyone. Not demons, not humans, and especially not angels. He’d thought he was safe with Aziraphale, but… just as he should have anticipated, the rug was inevitably yanked out from under him right at the least opportune time. And now… now the angel thought it was appropriate to just show up to his flat with no warning. Did he really expect to be let in? Welcomed with open arms? If he’d known Crowley at all, he would know that he should have just let the demon be. It would have been so much easier if he’d just let Crowley fucking be.

“I suppose it is…” Aziraphale sighed. “But I figure… better late than never, right?”

“Not in my books.” Crowley grumbled. “Go away, Aziraphale. I’m not an angel anymore. I don’t do the forgiveness thing.”

“Please hear me out.” Aziraphale begged. “I promise I won’t be long, and then… then I’ll be right out of your hair. You’ll never see me again if you don’t want to.”

“I shouldn’t be seeing you now.” Crowley huffed, seeming to trail off into a sigh. He waited for a moment, noting Aziraphale’s unwavering effort. “You’re not gonna leave, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” Aziraphale hummed.

Crowley wavered for a moment, before letting the door open. Aziraphale nearly stumbled, catching himself quickly. A light blush spread upon his face as he looked at the demon, before it melted into the very last thing Crowley wanted to see- concern. Actually, that look in his eyes was bordering on pity, which Crowley absolutely loathed. The angel then looked past Crowley and into his flat, his breath hitching. Crowley knew what he was looking at- he hadn’t bothered to clean up the bottles yet. Aziraphale walked past him, picking the bottles up and putting them onto the nearest table. It wasn’t where they went, but Crowley would put them away later.

“So… go on then.” Crowley prompted. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Crowley, I’m so sorry for the way that we left things.” Aziraphale sighed, his voice sounding… weird. It was a little higher pitched than usual, like he was choking the words out. When he turned to face Crowley again, there were tears streaming down his face… which was awakening instincts in Crowley that really ought to stay asleep. “I really hurt you, didn’t I?”

“You think?” Crowley scoffed, before starting to laugh incredulously. “It’s not like I confessed my love for you or anything.”

“I’m… I’m ashamed of myself, Crowley.” Aziraphale looked at his feet. “There’s no excuse I could give that would make any of this alright…”

“Right… so why are you really here then?” Crowley hummed, unimpressed.

“What?” Aziraphale blinked, looking up.

“Why are you really here?” Crowley shrugged. “Is there gonna be another Armageddon? You want me to help you go behind Heaven’s back without them noticing?”

“I’m down here to apologize.” Aziraphale frowned. “I truly regret what happened, Crowley.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Crowley scoffed. “You couldn’t care less about that- you couldn’t care less about me! You made that very clear, angel.”

“I do care, Crowley!” Aziraphale protested. “More than you could possibly know!”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.” Crowley glared at him.

“I just- I thought-” Aziraphale stammered.

“That I could be ‘fixed’?” Crowley rolled his eyes. “I’ve never been broken to begin with.”

“I love you, Crowley!” Aziraphale blurted out, his voice shaky. Crowley let out a half-hearted scoff at that. He wanted to believe him so badly. “I love you… and I thought that was the only way we would be safe.”

“Gabriel and Beelzebub ran off to Alpha Centauri.” Crowley pointed out in a low grumble. “They were perfectly fine.”

“We have no clue what happened after that- what Heaven might have done to them once they were out of sight.” Aziraphale countered. “I’d also love to believe that they had a happy ending, but you of all people should understand that the odds of that are slim.”

“Heaven let them go.” Crowley insisted, though he knew what Aziraphale was saying had merit. “They all agreed on it ‘n everything.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale sighed. “If there’s anything Heaven knows how to do, it’s loopholes. I’m afraid seeing what I’ve seen I wouldn’t trust anything without a signed contract.”

“Whatever…” Crowley grumbled, hating that Aziraphale was right. He knew all too well what the Angel was talking about- he’d been a seraphim once too.

“I thought… when the Metatron offered for us to work together, I thought it was the only way we could guarantee… us.” Aziraphale tried to explain. “I know I didn’t word it right at first…”

“Understatement of the millennia.” Crowley hummed.

“But… I really think this… well it’s not all a misunderstanding, but… it's just a mess. I had no ill intentions.” Aziraphale tried. “I had nothing to forgive you for- if anything, I should be asking you to forgive me.”

“Mhm?” Crowley looked the angel over, looking for any of his tells- anything that told Crowley he might be sugaring his words. He found nothing.

“Will you, then?” Aziraphale gave a small bounce on his heels. “Forgive me, I mean. Sorry, I seem to be a little jumbled. Will you forgive me please?”

“I’ll consider it… once I get an apology.” The demon hummed, his resolve weakening.

“But I’ve-” Aziraphale’s brows furrowed in protestation before his face fell. “Oh no…”

“The dance.” Crowley demanded. “Now.”

“Must I?” Aziraphale pleaded. “We- I am not really supposed to dance…”

“Are you sorry or not?” Crowley raised a brow.

“I…” Aziraphale flushed red before sighing, sheepishly getting into position to do the dance. “You were right, you were right, I was wrong and you were right…”

“You’re getting rusty.” Crowley noted.

“Yes, well… I had hoped that you’d consider the gravity of this situation a bit much for the dance.” Aziraphale admitted.

“Nothing is too much for the dance.” Crowley stated. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Aziraphale’s eyes lit up with hope.

“I’ll consider forgiving you.” Crowley hummed.

“Well… I suppose that’s all I can ask for.” The angel sighed.

“Is that all, then?” Crowley prompted, one hand already on the door.

“Not quite…” Aziraphale admitted. “I was wondering if we might take a walk.”

“What kind of walk?” Crowley raised a brow.

“Just a stroll, among… more-than-friends, perhaps.” Aziraphale chuckled nervously. “Outside. It’s lovely outside tonight.”

“Are you asking me on a date, Angel?” The demon’s face fell into a scowl. “Do you not think it’s a little soon for that?”

“I… I miss you, Crowley.” Aziraphale admitted. “I would like to catch up- see how you’ve been since… everything.”

“I got drunk ‘n then I took a nap.” Crowley told him bluntly. “I’ve been asleep ever since.”

“Oh…” Aziraphale blinked, saddening a little. “Well, erm… I’ve news to share.”

“You did come down here because you needed my help, didn’t you?” Crowley sighed disappointedly.

“Oh no- nothing of the sort.” Aziraphale assured him. “Please, Crowley. Just come with me.”

“Fine.” Crowley relented. “But when I come back here, everything had better be as it was.”

“It will be. I promise.” Aziraphale assured him.

Crowley didn’t know why the angel was so insistent on him leaving. Perhaps it was for his own good, though- getting out and about. He never much cared for his own good, and it seemed to be catching up to him. As he walked outside, he noted a much brisker temperature, and changing colors. In fact, quite a few leaves had fallen, if the crunching under his feet were any indication on the matter. He had, it seemed, been asleep for a few months at the very least. So he wasn’t hungover anymore- just very groggy.

He couldn’t actually see all too much, especially in the darkness of the night. Just blobs of orange that crisped ever so slightly to form trees as he walked by, illuminated by the streetlights. As he took everything in, he felt something brush against his hand. He pulled it away on instinct… before finding himself confronted with Zira’s pouting face. He sighed, lowering his hand again and allowing the angel to take it. He shouldn’t have- he should have stayed angry. But, as he was learning, the heart could be complicated that way.

“I’ve always thought the fall was so lovely… God’s little effort to romanticize the concept of change.” Aziraphale considered. “I wish change were always so beautiful.”

“That’d be nice…” Crowley hummed. “So… what’ve they got you doing in Heaven?”

“Oh… right now, we’re preparing for the second coming.” Aziraphale sighed. “Absolutely dreadful business- I have to work with Jesus directly.”

“Is it coming soon then?” Crowley quirked a brow. “Is everything we did for nothing?”

“Oh no, it’s going to take at least another millennia to set everything into motion.” Aziraphale assured him. “And… and I’m putting as many cogs in the wheel as I can.”

“Are you now?” Crowley couldn’t help but smirk amusedly.

“Well… I have to, don’t I?” Aziraphale flushed red. “I can’t let this go through- I can’t be a part of… that.”

“You could leave.” Crowley suggested. “We could still run.”

“Oh Crowley… you would still do that?” Aziraphale lit up.

“Course I would!” Crowley scoffed. “I may be pissed as all get out at you, but it doesn’t change the fact that I love you.”

“I love you too.” Aziraphale beamed.

“Then let’s do it.” Crowley suggested. “We could go to Alpha Centauri, see how Gabriel and Beelzebub are holding up.”

“Oh… I’d love to, Crowley… but I can’t.” Aziraphale blushed, his eyes as genuine as Crowley had ever seen them. “I’m afraid… I’m afraid they’ve backed me into a corner, so to speak.”

“Backed you into a corner?” Crowley’s face fell, a brow quirking.

“They’ve brought the book of life into it.” Aziraphale winced.

“The Book of Life…” Crowley whistled. “You’re that dangerous, eh? That they’ll erase you from existence if you don’t play their games?”

“I wouldn’t mind so much if it was my existence being threatened.” Aziraphale shook his head gravely.

“Whose name are they…” Crowley furrowed his brows before a realization hit him and his face fell. “Oh…”

“If I were gone… well, I’m replaceable in the grand scheme of things.” Aziraphale told him. “But without you, I fear the very world which we walk upon might cease to exist. No one else could have swayed me to save this place. No one else could have protected this place as you have. And… and I shudder to think about what I’d be without you in my life. I wouldn’t want to live in that world.”

“Right…” Crowley whistled. “This is gonna be one hell of a long-distance relationship then.”

“You’d be interested in that?” Aziraphale blinked.

“Well you’re keeping my name in the book of life.” Crowley scoffed. “I can’t very well hold that against you, can I?”

“Yes, but… everything else I did…” Aziraphale reasoned. “Even I might find it hard to fully forgive me.”

“You’re right. Forgiving you isn’t gonna be easy.” Crowley sighed. What he was about to say went against every fiber of his better judgment. “But if you’re putting in so much effort ‘n all to keep me alive I suppose I could try. I’ve always had a bit of a weak spot for you anyway.”

“Oh Crowley… Thank you!” Aziraphale sighed in relief. It was amazing how expressive his angel’s eyes were. He’d never seen such profound gratitude so clearly on display. “You know… there is a reason I wanted to bring you out here.”

“What?” Crowley’s face fell.

“I have a bit of a gift for you.” Aziraphale told him. “Nothing angelic- don’t worry. I’m… I’m through with making those kinds of mistakes.”

“A gift?” Crowley repeated, his tone justifiably wary.

“I, erm… I’ve come across a few things since stepping into my position.” Aziraphale but his lip before stopping in his tracks and looking over at Crowley. “Why did you never tell me about your eyes?”

Crowley froze, his full body tensing. What business did Aziraphale have bringing that up? His jaw clenched, and his hand tightened around the angel’s. He had to take a breath to calm himself. He knew Aziraphale probably meant nothing by it. He likely didn’t even know how deeply that entire situation ran. He’d just seen something in one of silly little files Heaven had, and he had felt bad. Was Crowley shaking? He hoped not. He didn’t need Aziraphale to see that. It was bad enough he was already probably cutting off the circulation in the angel’s hand.

“What?” Was all he could manage to get out.

“Your eyes… she was so vindictive with you...” Aziraphale frowned. Maybe he did know. “All these years I was experiencing such beauty, and… I’d assumed you were seeing it with me. You of all people deserve to have been able to marvel at the night sky, but… you can’t.”

“It’s nothing.” Crowley’s voice came out in a low rumble, almost like a warning. “‘N besides, there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Was nothing I could do.” Aziraphale corrected, clearing his throat. “I’ve gotten a good bit more powerful since we last met- perks of my new position.”

“Right…” Crowley muttered, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Aziraphale turned Crowley to face him, cupping the demon’s face with the hand that wasn’t already laced in his. Instinctively, Crowley’s head keened into the touch, his cheeks flushing crimson when he realized what he’d done. Aziraphale gave him a soft, bittersweet smile, and Crowley felt walls start to crash that he hadn’t even realized were up. It was an overwhelming, almost warm sensation. Aziraphale’s eyes were so full of love. That’s all he could really see- those eyes. They held everything that Crowley had ever dreamt about finding in them. Finally he was catching a break.

“Let me do this for you.” The angel whispered softly.

“What?” Crowley blinked half-heartedly, head still reeling a little. He didn’t even flinch as Aziraphale took off his glasses.

“Crowley… look up.” Aziraphale’s face morphed into a giddy, excited grin. Crowley’s brows furrowed, but he obliged.

As Crowley looked up, he found that the sky was no longer one blurry black void. Rather, it was lit up with tiny, beautiful lights, crisp as could be. Stars, Crowley realized. Those were his stars. That was what they looked like way down here. His eyes welled with tears and he started to choke up, completely overwhelmed. Part of him was embarrassed- he didn’t want to be making a scene on the streets like this. But it was just so gorgeous. So awe-inspiring. He could barely tear his eyes away from it for fear of them going away.

He had to, though- there was something else deserving of his attention. His angel. Now, he’d been able to see Aziraphale just fine most of the time- Crowley had made a habit of keeping Aziraphale within his range. But there was something crisper about the angel as well- something that only added to his beauty. Then he looked past Aziraphale, noting that he could see the trees clearly now. He could see the whole street clearly.

“Oh angel…” He breathed.

“I can’t change their monstrous form. I’m afraid that’s a must for all demons.” Aziraphale admitted. “But… I could change what they’re capable of seeing- so I did. It’s the very least I can do after everything I put you through.”

“Angel… I could kiss you!” Crowley giggled with excitement. He giggled. Dear God.

“Then why don’t you?” Aziraphale prompted playfully, evidently satisfied with himself.

“Can I?” Crowley checked. “Or is Heaven watching?”

“Oh no- they don’t even know I’m here. I’m given some freedoms, so long as my job is done.” Aziraphale assured him. “Go on, Crowley. If you want to kiss me… there’s not a single thing stopping you.”

And so that’s exactly what he did. He took his turn cupping his angel’s face in his hands, pulling it close and then slowly, gently pressing a kiss on his lips. A part of him was terrified that those lips would remain as stiff as they had the last time he’d attempted this- but they were quickly quelled as Aziraphale’s lips moved against his own, cue into a smile and kissing him back. The two of them kissed under a starlight they could finally both witness, sharing a moment of joy that was long overdue. If only for a moment, it seemed as though peace were restored. One could not say how long that moment would last before it inevitably ended, but for now… it was good.

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

Am I going to write a oneshot based on this now? Probably

“I did the ‘I was wrong’ dance in 1650, in 1793, 1941…”

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

The Female Experience (Good Omens)

Aka My Take On The Scrapped 60s American Femme Flashback. Thanks Neil, I’ve had no peace since discovering this existed :)

Ao3 Here

Genre: Angst/ Fluff/ A Good Dose Of Social Commentary

Words: 5421

TL;DR: Heaven wants to know why the Pearly Gates are opening to more women than men. Hell is almost certain that God is playing favorites. So they send their representatives on a bit of an undercover mission to figure out what *exactly* is going on- what are women doing so much better than men?

It was the year 1965. Aziraphale found herself seated in a booth at a diner in New York, New York. She smoothed the skirt of her dress before folding her arms onto the table in front of her. It was odd , she thought, to have her legs so exposed. Normally, she’d wear trousers- but then she wasn’t normally in America, and she wasn’t normally presenting as a female. It wasn’t that she didn’t like women- it was just that the form she’d initially chosen for Earth leaned more towards presenting male, and she’d been very comfortable in it. She sort of liked this form too, though- it was so elegant . So graceful. There was an absolutely enthralling feeling that came with looking into a mirror and seeing something so beautiful . It was almost making her vain .

She’d put a good lot of research into her appearance- she needed to get a real feel for what it was to be a woman nowadays. She’d read lots of magazines, and looked at many pictures. She’d even been to the picture shows to see how it was women were presenting. From that, she had gleaned an appearance that she thought blended in rather splendidly. She was not as trim as the women in the films, but she made up for it with what she thought were some stunning curves… that were unfortunately masked by the dress she was wearing. It was such a pretty dress though. The dress itself was a milk-chocolate brown, with a straight skirt and a high neckline. It almost appeared to be made of a suede material. It cut off at the shoulders, so underneath she’d worn a sky-blue blouse with a lovely rounded collar that fell over the neck of the dress, and she’d tied a matching sky-blue bow. On her feet, she wore white mary-jane pumps, and she’d styled her peroxide-blonde hair in the beehive style that was so fashionable. She’d even changed her face to one that was a bit softer and more traditionally feminine, and she’d dabbled with makeup (taking Audrey Hepburn as a muse). She thought, at the very least, that she was very a-la-mode.

It had taken some deal of effort to get there, but she was here now- out on the town, in a lovely little diner. This was, she’d heard, the very heart of Americana. All she was missing was a ‘shake’ and some french fries- which weren’t actually french at all. They were Belgian. Aziraphale would know- she’d had some of the first back in the 1600s. But that was besides the point now. Now what she needed was to get a server to notice her so that she could order her shake and fries. It was odd- she’d been sitting here for some time now, and yet all the men and families that had walked in since she’d arrive had already been served. Perhaps the waitresses simply hadn’t seen her. She tried to get eye contact, giving a polite little wave. If the waitress thought she was rude she might continue to ignore her. Though it still didn’t seem to be doing her any good- it was almost like she wasn’t there at all.

Still, she persisted… until she saw a face that was somehow familiar . Aziraphale didn’t even need to think twice about who it was, even though she probably should. She was really getting a bit too familiar with Crowley. She blinked at the demon’s appearance- this was different for them- or, she supposed, her for the time being. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Crowley present as female, but this was the first time Crowley had changed faces to do so in… well, ever , to Aziraphale’s recollection. It seemed that they’d gotten the same idea. Crowley sported a black turtleneck with black pants with a yellow grid-like pattern on them and black flats, her red hair curled out on the ends and held back by a headband that matched her pants. Of course, she still wore her signature glasses- it would have taken an awful lot of effort for her to change her eyes, and she’d already put in enough. She was slight, with a rather beautiful face- such soft features with beautifully high cheekbones. The rouge she wore made her lips stand out, and Aziraphale’s eyes were not the only ones lingering on them. She was stunning, and her outfit was very fashionable… but it was also so brazen . Men around the restaurant stared, some whistling… much to the dismay of their wives.

Crowley seemed to catch Aziraphale’s eye, smirking before making her way to her and sitting down across from her. What was Crowley doing here ? Aziraphale’s mission from Heaven was simple- figure out why so many more women were gaining access to Heaven than men. Given America’s cultural influence, Heaven had asked Aziraphale to do her observing there as opposed to England- which was inconvenient and a little unpleasant, but unfortunately doable. All that was to say that there was a simple explanation for why she was there. But Crowley… well, Hell must have some sort of a plan that required him to be there. She couldn’t have just followed Aziraphale, could she? Aziraphale cleared her throat for a few moments as Crowley sat down before addressing her.

“Crowley?” She checked.

“Angel.” Crowley smirked softly. “What has Heaven got you doing hanging around here ?”

“I’m on a mission.” Aziraphale lowered her voice.

“What kind of mission?” Crowley raised an amused brow.

“I really shouldn’t be disclosing that…” Aziraphale sighed, but speaking from experience she knew there was no use trying to hide anything. Crowley was good with words- she always got the answers she was after. “Heaven has me looking into why there’s so many more women than men coming through the Pearly Gates.”

“That’s funny.” Crowley chortled. “Hell’s got me here for the exact same reason.”

“Do they?” Aziraphale lit up a little. “Isn’t that a fun coincidence!”

“Did they send you here because of the ‘cultural significance’?” Crowley hummed.

“They did !” Aziraphale confirmed. “Which I think is outrageous !”

“It’s like they’ve never heard of the British Invasion!” Crowley scoffed. “America’s crawling all over anything British right now- but sure, America’s the influential continent.”

“I was thinking that precisely !” Aziraphale nodded. “I tried to tell them.”

“What’s the point?” Crowley rolled her eyes. “They don’t listen.”

“No… no, they don’t.” Aziraphale gulped lightly, more than evidently nervous to voice any dissatisfaction with Heaven. You never knew when or where they were listening. Crowley wasn’t stupid- she could see how uncomfortable her counterpart was. So she did her the mercy of changing the subject.

“So, what’ve you ordered?” Crowley asked, picking up a menu. “Anything I should try?”

“Oh, I haven’t ordered yet.” Aziraphale admitted. “It seems… well, I really am trying not to make a fuss, but it seems that the waitress hasn’t even seen me.”

“What?” Crowley blinked.

“Well… she’s been serving all the families, and the men who walk in, but… she hasn’t even looked my way.” Aziraphale explained.

“Oh, that’s not going to fly.” Crowley grumbled before standing up and grabbing her place setting. She banged the cutlery on he table, sending a pointed glare to the waitress. One could feel the intensity of it, even if her eyes were masked.

“Oh, you don’t have to-” Aziraphale blushed.

“Excuse me!” Crowley called out to the waitress. “My friend here has been waiting for service for… how long’s it been?”

“Just around forty-five minutes.” Aziraphale croaked out, a dark shade of crimson in embarrassment.

“ Forty-five minutes?!” Crowley scoffed, looking at the waitress again. “What kind of service is that ?”

“I’m…” The waitress stammered.

“You’re going to come over here and take her order, or I’m gonna tell your boss how unprofessional you’re being.” Crowley threatened her. “You think he wants someone on staff who’s ignoring patrons?”

“What seems to be the problem out here?” A man in a soda-jerk’s uniform and an apron popped his head out of the kitchen.

“Oh, it’s nothing Mr. Kennedy.” The waitress flushed red. “These ladies were just voicing some concerns.”

“Your waitress has not served my companion here in forty-five minutes.” Crowley told him.

“Well… the place is fairly full, ma’am.” Mr. Kennedy reasoned.

“She’s serving everyone but us!” Crowley countered. “There are families that have just walked in, and they’re getting their orders taken!”

“This is a family diner- we’re in the business of serving families.” The man stated levelly.

“And what of the business men? Hm?” Crowley pointed out. “They’re not families.”

“They’re very busy working men.” Mr. Kennedy nodded. “Listen, ladies… Thanks for stopping in. But I think it’s time you got home and started making supper for your husbands, isn’t it?”

“Our husbands ?” Crowley fumed.

“You can make yourself a snack while you’re at it if you’re really hungry.” Mr. Kennedy hummed.

“This is ridiculous !” Crowley scoffed. “We’re willing to pay you, and you won’t have us?”

“That’s right.” Mr. Kennedy sighed before his eyes darkened and his tone took on more of an edge. “You can take your liberal feminism elsewhere, ma’am. This is a family establishment.”

“I think we will.” Crowley huffed, quickly getting onto her feet and taking Aziraphale’s wrist, dragging her along. “Come on, Angel.”

Crowley was brisk- so brisk, in fact, that Aziraphale nearly stumbled and fell. It was amazing how quickly the demon could move when she was upset. Aziraphale gave an apologizing glance at the waitress on her way out, who looked mortified by the entire situation. Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley had to look around to feel the eyes trained on them. They’d ‘caused a scene’, as some might say. But… even Aziraphale had to admit that it was a scene worth causing. Whilst Crowley had jumped straight to anger, Aziraphale found herself more confused than anything. Why in the world was that man so against them? Had Americans forgotten the importance of showing kindness to strangers? God herself could have been in that restaurant today and Aziraphale got the distinct feeling that ‘Mr. Kennedy’ would have reacted in precisely the same way.

“Thank you for standing up for me.” Aziraphale muttered, holding close now to her colleague.

“Absolutely ridiculous.” Crowley grumbled. “I’ve seen a lot, but this is an all-time low…”

“How has it come to this ?” Aziraphale asked tiredly.

“It’s humanity, Angel- they’re always finding new lows to sink to.” Crowley sighed. “I guess I can tell Hell that they were wrong- this isn’t all just God favoring the women.”

“Is that what Hell thought?” Aziraphale blinked.

“Yup.” Crowley sighed, popping the ‘p’. “Told ‘em that wasn’t the case, but they don’t listen.”

“God doesn’t play favorites- not since Job.” Aziraphale hummed.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Crowley rolled her eyes. “But this is one problem we can’t pin on her- this one is all humanity.”

“The audacity on that man, to refuse us service!” Aziraphale huffed in agreement.

“We don’t need him.” Crowley sighed. “We’ll find somewhere else to eat- perhaps spend the night out somewhere.”

“Where?” Aziraphale asked.

“The pictures might be nice.” Crowley mused. “I think I saw a poster for a special anniversary screening of Psycho at the theater a few blocks down.”

“Oh no- I read that book. Scared the living daylights out of me.” Aziraphale shuddered. “But… they have made an adaptation of The Sound of Music, and it’s in theaters now…”

“I am not going to watch The Sound of Music.” Crowley deadpanned.

“Well then perhaps we could-” Aziraphale started, before she heard a sharp whistle from across the street. She blinked, her eyes following it.

“ Don’t look .” Crowley warned under her breath.

“Why not?” Aziraphale muttered, looking in the direction of the whistle.

Across the street stood a cluster of four young men, wolfish grins on their faces as they seemed to scan every inch of her and Crowley with their eyes. There was a fear that crashed over Aziraphale like a wave, overwhelming every one of her senses. She wasn’t sure why- it was just a group of boys. If they were armed, Aziraphale didn’t know about it. They were just standing there… Standing there and eyeing her hungrily like she was a piece of meat. The fear seemed innate - instinctual , almost. Like it was programmed into her. She found that that kind of fear was usually very warranted.

“Hey good-lookin’, why don’t you come over here and let us show you a good time?” One of the men called over. She froze, shivers running down her spine.

“I beg your pardon?” She flushed red.

“No no no, angel, don’t let it get to you.” Crowley muttered, tugging on her wrist to keep her pardon.

“Oh, they’re British !” Another one of the men grinned even wider (if that was possible) before letting out a loud whoop. The other men joined, whooping and hollering across the street at her and Crowley. “Come on, let us show you the American way sweetheart!”

“Fuck off!” Crowley growled, glaring at them from across the street.

“Feisty!” Another man seemed to cheer. “I like a feisty girl!”

“Give us a chance, and we’ll teach you some manners.” A man smirked.

“You’re all sick !” Aziraphale exclaimed, finally finding some strength. She couldn’t let them talk about Crowley that way. “She is not an animal to be tamed, and if you don’t stop it right now, I’ll… I’ll…”

“Angel…” Crowley warned under her breath.

“You’ll what, little lady?” One of the boys quirked a challenging brow.

“I’ll call the police!” Aziraphale proclaimed. “This is harassment!”

“Nah… we’re just being friendly is all.” The boy chuckled softly. “Geez, you women can’t take a compliment!”

“I-” Aziraphale started.

“ Leave it , angel.” Crowley warned under her breath. “Just keep moving, or it will only get worse.”

“But we really ought to call the police!” Aziraphale protested quietly. “This isn’t right!”

“Who do you think the police are going to side with?” Crowley asked rhetorically.

“You’re not saying…” Aziraphale’s eyes widened in shock. “But that’s outrageous!”

“It’s society.” Crowley shrugged. “So I’d suggest moving, or they’ll just keep at it.”

“Fine.” Aziraphale muttered shortly, her pace picking up to be rather brisk. Crowley matched it, keeping her head held high.

“We’ll be here waiting when you change your minds!” A man called after them.

Aziraphale could not shake the overwhelming disgust that those men had given her. Did they honestly think that any of that was acceptable? Was that what humanity considered to be ‘normal’? If Aziraphale were an actual woman, she was fairly sure that she would lock herself away from the fear of it all. How courageous must a woman be to even dare to walk the streets when it apparently warranted that kind of attention? Or, a better question still- how had they all not snapped and eliminated the male race entirely? Having to go through that day by day… Aziraphale would think it would drive someone to madness. And yet the women she knew were some of the sweetest, gentlest and most caring individuals to walk the earth. They didn’t just overcome their circumstances- they thrived in spite of them.

She wondered, though, how Crowley knew what was going to happen. Aziraphale knew that her demonic companion had taken on a feminine form more often than she had, but in her experience Crowley hadn’t encountered anything like that … had she? She dreaded to think that perhaps it had , right under her nose, and from her cushy position in a safer masculine form she had failed to notice. Perhaps, even, she had unwittingly supported it. She shuddered to think of that. It was remarkable how stepping into someone else’s shoes could change one’s perspective. Crowley hadn’t even flinched through all of that. Aziraphale very much wished that she had .

“Ridiculous what men think they’re entitled to.” Crowley grumbled as she walked.

“Indeed…” Aziraphale bit her lip, still troubled. “Erm… Crowley?”

“Something on your mind, Angel?” Crowley asked, her tone still short. “Just spit it out- you don’t always have to be so polite.”

“You didn’t seem to be phased by any of that.” Aziraphale blushed. “Why?”

“Oh, Angel… that’s all existed since the dawn of time- since Adam and Eve, or Abraham and Sarah.” Crowley sighed, softening. “Did you really never see it?”

“No.” Aziraphale admitted, a bright crimson. “ I haven’t acted that way unwittingly, have I?”

“How should I know?” Crowley scoffed, before seeing Aziraphale wince. She sighed, toning herself down. “Well… I’m not with you all the time. But from what I’ve seen, you’re a more than decent man, Aziraphale. I don’t think it’s even in your capacity to do anything like that.”

“And I haven’t supported it?” Aziraphale checked.

“Not that I’ve seen.” Crowley assured her.

“Oh good.” Aziraphale sighed in relief.

“Do you really want to see the worst of what men have to offer?” Crowley asked.

“I don’t know… do I?” Aziraphale winced.

“You ought to- for the reports to Heaven and such.” Crowley pointed out.

“I suppose…” Aziraphale sighed. “Where are we going, then?”

“A bar.” Crowley hummed. “Any will do, as long as it’s not gay.”

“Why not the gay ones?” Aziraphale furrowed her brows, following Crowley.

“You’re really asking that?” Crowley raised her brows, unimpressed. Aziraphale blushed again, and she sighed. “This isn’t just a fatal design flaw on the part of all men- it’s a mix of lust and the patriarchy. God did woman no favors making her from man. The way men see it, ‘man was made in God’s image, woman was made for man’. They feel superior to them- like they’re a link higher on the food chain. Mix that with lust, and they begin to feel entitled to them.”

“But God is a woman.” Aziraphale furrowed his brows. “Or… or at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Don’t go about trying to tell that to men .” Crowley chuckled.

“I’m sorry, but how does this all relate to your point about gay bars?” Aziraphale checked.

“Gay men don’t lust for women- they don’t even have an interest in them.” Crowley clarified. “It takes out the entitlement factor. So gay men are much better to women. And gay women- the sapphics- well… they know better than to put each other through that.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale blinked, processing that.

“So no gay bars.” Crowley sighed. “We can go to one a little later once we’ve taken enough of a beating from the regular bars.”

“Alright.” Aziraphale sighed.

She let Crowley take the lead. She figured she probably should have known about the entire gay thing- it made complete sense. Perhaps that was why people always assumed Aziraphale was queer- because he treated women so well. How sad was it that that might be indicative of someone’s sexual preferences? That was how little self-control the straight men had over themselves. Now, mind you, Aziraphale knew that was likely a harmful generalization. She was sure that not all straight men treated women this poorly. Most of them probably weren’t so obvious about how they felt about women- they discriminated more quietly, like Mr. Kennedy had. In retrospect, though, Aziraphale wasn’t sure which form of discrimination was worse- the louder and more obviously wrong one, or the one so quiet that society had deemed it ‘normal’.

She followed Crowley in the doors of a dingy looking establishment- though Aziraphale had tended to find all the bars she had been to a little dingy. It was lively inside- lots of men chatting and drinking, making merry. For the first time, Aziraphale noticed the staggering lack of a female presence within a bar. If Crowley’s word was anything to go on, perhaps none of the bars she’d been to had had a strong female presence. She gulped as eyes trained on her much faster than she’d anticipated, smirks starting to grow on the faces of some of her spectators. It was like she’d just walked straight into the lion’s den. She felt Crowley lean into her, and she held closely to her.

“You’ll get the best experience by playing along with them.” The demon muttered.

“Must we?” Aziraphale winced.

“It’ll be worth it.” Crowley promised. She sighed, relenting and following Crowley to sit on a barstool. “Two White Russians.”

“Coming right up, sweetheart.” The bartender winked at the would-be ladies. Wonderful. They were already being patronized.

“What’s a White Russian?” Aziraphale whispered.

“You’ll like it.” Crowley assured her.

The hairs on Aziraphale’s neck raised as some sort of sixth sense activated. Two men approached her and Crowley from behind, situating themselves on either side of the would-be ‘ladies’. You could tell that they weren’t there for drinks- their focus was trained on the ‘girls’, like a predator to its prey. They reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Aziraphale had a pit in her stomach- she knew that this was going to be torture. Why had she let Crowley convince her to do this?

“Evening ladies.” The man beside Aziraphale winked. It took everything in her not to cringe. “How’s about I buy you a few drinks?”

“Sure thing, big guy.” Crowley giggled. Inwardly, Aziraphale was groaning. Outwardly, she forced herself to giggle as well, as though she found any joy in the prospect of this slimey man’s company.

“Hey buddy, next few rounds are on me.” The man told the barkeep, slurring his words slightly.

“Name’s Tom, ‘n my buddy is Dylan.” The other man introduced. “What can we call you fine ladies?”

“ Mrs . Fell and Mrs . Crowley.” Aziraphale introduced, with an emphasis on the prefixes.

“You related to an A.Z. Fell and an Anthony Crowley?” Dylan asked.

“I- we are .” Aziraphale stammered, shocked. “Those are… they’re our husbands. ”

“Visited their bookstore on my last trip overseas.” Dylan hummed. “I thought they were queer. ”

“Well, they can be rather strange .” Crowley teased.

“Mmmm… let’s leave the husbands out of this then.” Tom flashed her a wolfish grin. “What’re your names?”

“I-” Aziraphale began to protest.

“I’m Sadie, and my prudish friend is Dottie.” Crowley introduced, offering him a hand to shake. Instead, he yanked it up and kissed it sloppily up her arm. Crowley giggled along with it- but this time the laughter was more obviously fake.

Aziraphale shot Crowley a small frown- they hadn’t discussed new cover names. Then again, they also hadn’t discussed new cover wives . So they were about even, she supposed.

“Yes… Dottie Fell and Sadie Crowley.” Aziraphale confirmed warily.

“I’m Tom, and this is Dylan.” Tom introduced again.

“You’d mentioned that.” Aziraphale, aka Dottie, hummed softly. These men were both drunk as a skunk, which Aziraphale feared meant nothing good.

“What brings two lovely ladies like you into a place like this?” Tom asked.

“Just a night out on the town, exploring.” Crowley- or Sadie , for now- mused playfully.

“Must be so different from England.” Dylan hummed, running a hand down Aziraphale’s arm until it hooked around her side. She felt her breath hitch.

“Erm… yes, it is. Quite.” Aziraphale muttered softly before taking a healthy sip of her drink.

“It’s an awfully long way from home.” Crowley played along, not even flinching as Tom’s arm smoothed down her back and rested just above the danger zone. Instead, Crowley’s eyes were trained on the hands on Aziraphale’s waist. She looked as though she might strike at the slightest wrong move. “Everything here is so exciting !”

“I’m sure it is.” Tom hummed. “You know, if you ladies really want something exciting… we can show you the American Dream .”

“The American Dream ?” Aziraphale tried not to wince, praying with every ounce of strength that she had that he didn’t mean what she thought he meant.

“Mhm, all you gotta do is follow us over to our rooms at The Plaza.” Tom winked. It sent the entirely wrong kind of shiver down Aziraphale’s spine.

“But we just told you we were married !” Aziraphale gasped. “Shame on you!”

“Oh, it’s fine , Dottie- what would two women be doing in a bar if they didn’t want to wind up in someone else’s bed?” Crowley hummed, her tone now laced with more venom. “If we’re here, we can’t just be two girls having fun- we ought to be unhappy in our marriages and seeking a helping hand. Right, boys?”

“See, she gets it.” Dylan smirked, snaking his hand around her waist and to her front to pull her closer. Aziraphale’s eyes widened with more than just discomfort- with a bonafide sense of horror. “C’mon, darlin’. Relax. Get comfortable. I can feel how tense you are .”

“See, the thing is… we just came for a nice night out. ” Crowley sighed, the act dropped. She snapped, and the men both sported handcuffs, and then again and they were all outside. “A night in the cells for public intoxication won’t teach ‘em a lesson, but it ought to do some good.”

“At the very least it will ensure that they don’t get their hands on anyone else.” Aziraphale nodded, before taking Crowley’s hand and starting to walk away.

“Hey… wait…” One of the men protested. “Dottie… Sadie… I’ll love ya truly!”

“I’ll see you in hell, boys!” Crowley called back, a devilish smirk on her face. “We’re going to have a lot of fun.”

As they walked away from the bar, Aziraphale’s stomach tossed and turned. It lost none of the knots it had acquired through the night. The inequality he’d seen earlier was bad, but that… that confirmed a very scary truth for him: women were seen as objects here. Objects . Things a man could own- whether it be for pleasure, or housework, or cooking. They were possessions. And as possessions, men assumed they were capable of being stolen. It clearly didn’t matter how the woman felt about the matter- they only pretended to give the woman a say, but there were expectations. Aziraphale knew there ought to be a reason that Crowley pulled them back out before the men had gotten angry, and she decidedly did not want to know what that reason was. She feared , based on how touchy they’d gotten at the bars, that it might be violent.

“Oh Crowley… this is awful !” Aziraphale’s eyes started to well with tears. “It’s truly, truly awful.”

“I know, Angel.”Crowley soothed.

“And you knew all of this existed?” Aziraphale sniffed, tears running down her face, smudging her makeup in the process but she didn’t much care.

“Yeah… this entire mission is a formality for me.” Crowley admitted. “I had to do something for the paperwork.”

“How could you stand to be a man after knowing all of this?” Aziraphale choked out through a sob. “It makes me sick !”

“It’s terrible, Aziraphale.” Crowley hummed. “But the best way to make the world better for women is to be a good man, yeah? One that lifts a woman’s voice.”

“I suppose…” Aziraphale considered.

“The issue is, they aren’t being heard- the men won’t hear them.” Crowley sighed. “They’re refusing to change. But if some of us do listen, then… then maybe more will too. It can change.”

“You really think so?” Aziraphale sighed.

“I do.” Crowley hummed. “But you didn’t hear that from me, naturally- I wouldn’t want the world to get better, would I?”

“No… no, of course you wouldn’t.” Aziraphale chuckled softly under her breath.

Aziraphale never wanted to go through anything like that again. There were times in that bar when she had genuinely felt scared for her safety. She’d genuinely worried that those men might try to harm her if she refused them, or force themselves on her. Men were terrifying when you weren’t one of them. How had she never seen this side of Man before? She supposed they were civil with those they saw as equal. To this point, Aziraphale could have been counted in those ranks. This was her first experience outside of that, and for the first time she saw clearly the Beast inside of Man. This had all gone far too far, and the one question on loop in Aziraphale’s mind was whether she could have avoided all of this if she’d seen the signs and reported them to Heaven. She supposed not- she wasn’t sure Heaven would have deemed this issue ‘important’ enough to intervene. This world was in a sad, sad state. She only hoped that it wasn’t too late to turn things around.

————

“No no, I’m not saying there’s an error on God’s part- I would never!” Aziraphale corrected themself in a nervous chuckle. “I’m just saying that… that we may not have properly assessed the risks of allowing the patriarchy to flourish.”

Aziraphale stood in front of a council of Archangels. They way the angels pored into them, it almost felt like they were on trial. They were used to it, though, after so many years of working with them. After an amply eventful night, they were presenting their findings- trying to make the Archangels understand why exactly it was that women made up such a sizeable chunk of Heaven’s human population. The issue with Archangels is that they took everything as criticism - and they didn’t like to be criticized. Needless to say that this was becoming an unnecessarily painful experience.

“The basis of the patriarchy isn’t entirely unfounded, Aziraphale.” Uriel noted. “We made Woman as a companion to Man.”

“Yes- and again, I’m certainly not saying it’s our fault that this happened.” Aziraphale sighed. “But Man… Man has gotten a bit confused . Man isn’t just seeing Woman as unequal. They’re seeing her as something akin to a dog that can also cook, do the housework and bear children.”

“But that’s ridiculous- women clearly aren’t dogs!” Gabriel scoffed.

“I know.” Aziraphale bit their cheek softly ti try and suppress their frustration. “I don’t mean that that’s how they see them with their eyes. I mean that it’s how they perceive women in concept. Man thinks that Woman is able to be possessed, and that she should always be expected to give him exactly what he wants, when he wants it.”

“Oh.” Gabriel finally seemed to understand. “And that’s not good for Woman?”

“ No ! It’s not !” Aziraphale huffed, unable to restrain themself any further. “It puts them in an incredible amount of danger! Woman has next to no rights, no respect! They are being raised to measure their worth in how capable they are if cooking a good dinner! A fulfilling career is rarely an option for Woman, nor is a fulfilling education. And if all that isn’t bad enough, every time Woman walks out the door she is liable to be manhandled, tossed around or worse . So no, when I called Earth a ‘living hell’ for them in my report it was not an exaggeration !”

“Mind your tone, Aziraphale.” Michael warned, one of four cool glares that had trained on the Angelic Ambassador.

“Apologies.” Aziraphale sighed, trying to cool themself off before continuing. “A woman is a terribly frightening thing to be on Earth- and yet the majority take all of their blows in silence. They handle themselves with grace and poise. They do what they’re told with no complaint, when they ought to want to eliminate Man entirely . The fortitude of spirit they must exercise to not simply snap has to be worthy of a high commendation. I’ve no doubt that every woman who walks through the Pearly Gates deserves it.”

“Interesting.” Gabriel nodded shortly. “Well, thanks for filling us in, Aziraphale. Anything we can do for you in the meantime? Anything you need down there?”

“Can Heaven… Can Heaven give Man a nudge in the right direction?” Aziraphale asked timidly. “This can’t keep happening this way. Man has pinned these perceptions on God . Perhaps if we intervened, even in the smallest way…”

“We shall see, Aziraphale.” Uriel hummed, before following as Gabriel, Michael, and an Angel whose name slipped Aziraphale’s mind left the room.

We shall see . That was always what they said when nothing was going to happen. Humanity was going to have to rely on itself to fix the damage that had been done, and from what Aziraphale could gather… that was going to go slowly, if it even happened at all. Maybe there would be a momentary lull in the discrimination, but if Aziraphale had learned one thing from their time on Earth it was that history had the unfortunate habit of repeating itself. They feared that this was all just doomed to happen over and over again. Earth was stuck in a cycle that would never end.

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

That feeling as a writer (both fanfiction and general) when you’re emotionally devastated for your characters to the point of tears but there’s also a little imp doing a happy dance inside you saying ‘that’ll hurt the readers/ watchers so gooooodddd!’

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Crowley could have easily rented another flat but like the dramatic bitch he is he lives in his car with his little plants waiting for aziraphale to ask him to move in. Meanwhile aziraphale is living on another planet mentally where he is too busy creating Situations in which he gets to casually touch crowley. 6,000 years 1 brain cell bouncing around between these two

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

aziraphale with the funniest career trajectory in history: cherub -> FUCKS UP FIRST ASSIGNMENT SO SO BAD -> DEMOTED TO PRINCIPALITY -> dishonorable discharge -> FAILED EXECUTION -> retirement -> PROMOTED TO SUPREME ARCHANGEL

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

Please return us to a world where Notp and squick are used for a ship you don’t like instead of just making up a load of bullshit about how immoral it is or w/e lol 

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

Our Own World- An Ineffable Lovers Oneshot

Thanks to my friend Sophie for the inspiration!

MAJOR GOOD OMENS 2 SPOILERS

Ao3 Here

Genre: Fluff/ Angst

Words: 2414

TL;DR: What if Aziraphale gave into Crowley’s kiss? Could he really just let himself be in love?

“You idiot! We could have been us!”

Aziraphale looked away, unable to look Crowley in the eyes even if they were obscured by glasses. Crowley was, of course, right- if Aziraphale went up to Heaven, he would never get to be himself again. He would never have the time to sit back and read a good book, nor would there be any relevance for books in his life. He would not drink another coffee, no matter what The Metatron promised. He would not get to witness the everyday beauty of humanity that he had become so very fond of. But worst of all, he wouldn’t see Crowley anymore. He’d come to rely on the demon so fiercely that he barely knew what he’d be without Crowley around.

Before he even had a chance to think about how he was going to respond he heard brisk footsteps, and within a few moments he’d been grabbed roughly, a pair of lips forced onto his own. It felt like his heart stopped beating, the world slowing almost to a standstill. What in the world was Crowley doing?

Aziraphale tried to be a ‘good’ angel. A good angel wouldn’t even consider tolerating what Crowley was doing to him. So Aziraphale tried to stop Crowley, to work up the willpower to push the demon away, to do anything to make it all stop, but… he couldn’t. It had been foolish to think that he could- Aziraphale hadn’t been a ‘good’ angel for a very long time. Flailing arms eventually calmed, clinging to the demon, pulling him closer rather than pushing him away. Wave after wave of guilt washed over Aziraphale, but in the ebb he found himself in a state of pure euphoria, desperate to hold onto this moment forever. It did eventually have to end though- everything did.

Or did it? Did he really have to go with the Metatron? He certainly felt like he did, but… there was something eerie about that feeling like it was pre-programmed into him. It didn’t take into account anything that he’d ever been through- anything about the person he’d become since becoming Heaven’s representative on Earth. Everything about this place had changed him. He’d stood directly against Heaven multiple times in the past few years, and yet now… now he was so eager to play their games that he’d abandon everything he held dear? For whose sake? It certainly wasn’t his own- Aziraphale was rarely that selfish. He’d thought it was for Crowley’s sake- that he could restore him to his former glory, take away some of the pain- but to see him beg like he had made Aziraphale acutely aware that that pain was Heaven’s doing in the first place. Crowley wasn’t coming with him, so what was the point? Why was he so keen to betray the only person who had always been there when he needed them?

He relished in the kiss for a few moments longer before he was released from it just as roughly as he had been pulled into it. He stared at Crowley for a moment, feeling like he was looking into the eyes of an entirely new person. It was like something had clicked and he finally understood. Even with the veil of Crowley’s shades between them, it felt like the windows to the demon’s soul had finally been opened to him, and what was inside was tragically beautiful. He let out a shuddering sigh, his stomach turning. He wrung his hands, trying to do anything to relieve the stress that seemed to overtake him.

“Okay.” He croaked out.

“Okay what?” Crowley blinked.

“Okay… I’ll stay.” Aziraphale told him.

“You’ll stay…” Crowley muttered.

“I’ll stay.” Aziraphale nodded.

“You’ll stay.” A smirk started to form on Crowley’s face.

A moment passed before Aziraphale’s collar was grabbed again, this time much more gently. Nothing about this time was forced. Lips met willingly, melting into each other. Hands found their places. Aziraphale’s looped around Crowley’s back, pulling him closer, and Crowley’s found their way to Aziraphale’s hair, tangling and pulling gently. There was no haste- no need for an end. There was simply enjoyment, and closeness that filled a void Aziraphale hadn’t known existed within himself. He hadn’t known how incomplete he was until this moment, holding Crowley in his arms and allowing himself the simple luxury of living in that moment. When they did pull away, that didn’t feel forced either. It just happened naturally. Crowley’s hands slipped out of Aziraphale’s hair, trailing down from his shoulders to his arms until he eventually took Aziraphale’s hand in his own.

“Are we really staying though?” Crowley checked, picking up as though the conversation had never stopped. “Or should we go?”

“Go where?” Aziraphale asked.

“Well… Alpha Centauri is lovely this time of year.” Crowley considered. “And it should be at its prime. All the best stars are shining right now.”

“I don’t think I can leave this place, Crowley.” Aziraphale admitted.

“If we don’t they’ll never stop bothering us.” Crowley warned him. “We’ll never get a break- we’re always going to have to fight just for the right to exist.”

“Then the fight will be worth it.” Aziraphale sighed. “Think of this place, Crowley- think of how it’s treated up. Think of every beautiful thing we’ve seen, or been a part of. We fought for this place for a reason- this place has made us into what we are. We would never be standing where we are without the influence that humanity has had in our life. If we leave… We'll miss out on so much, Crowley. We still have so much to learn.”

“You really can’t leave this bookshop, can you Angel?” Crowley teased, a soft chuckle escaping him.

“It’s our home, Crowley.” Aziraphale blushed softly.

“Our home?” Crowley quirked a playful brow.

“Do you not agree?” Aziraphale pointed out. “This is our home, just like the Bentley is our car.”

“It’s not.” Crowley gave him a playful glare.

“Say what you will. The Bentley knows whose it is.” Aziraphale hummed teasingly. “Maybe… maybe we could get a real home, Crowley.”

“I thought you said this was our home.” Crowley raised a brow.

“In spirit, but… perhaps we could buy a house.” Aziraphale blushed lightly. “Make a space of our own. We could decorate it as we please, and fill it with as many plants as we can. We could have a beautiful garden, and a living room with a fireplace and a television and a record player. We’d have a place to get away from work and just be, should we need to. And we’d be able to host such wonderful parties, without having to fuss up all of the books in the shop. The Bentley could even have a garage of its own.”

“It would like that.” Crowley considered.

“Wouldn’t it be lovely to have a home in the countryside?” Aziraphale gushed. “With rolling hills in our own backyard… we could walk less than a minute and be in a field, entirely on our own. Imagine the picnics…”

“I’ve always been more of a city person.” Crowley told him.

“Somewhere in-between, then.” Aziraphale compromised. ��Close enough to the city, but with all the luxury of the country.”

“Perhaps…” Crowley smirked softly, evidently amused.

Of course, these thoughts weren’t spontaneous. Like most readers, Aziraphale was a daydreamer, and with all the romance novels he’d read he’d had many a daydream about the life he and his lover could share. He’d pictured it all so vividly, and without fault every time the lover he saw was Crowley. It had all felt so forbidden before, but… now that he knew Crowley felt the same way and he could express those feelings openly, they felt so right. It felt as though every word he spoke brought him closer to living out the fantasies constantly playing out in his head- like he was manifesting it.

“We could have a family Crowley.” Aziraphale mused.

“Could we?” The demon let out a small chuckle.

“We could adopt a dog… and perhaps, should the opportunity arise, a child.” Aziraphale sighed contentedly.

“A child?” Crowley’s face fell.

“Well, yes.” Aziraphale blinked. “We both like children.”

“If you want a child, we’ve got Muriel.” Crowley chuckled nervously. “They’re basically a child, and I’ve a feeling they’re not going anywhere.”

“Muriel isn’t a child, Crowley- they’re just naive.” Aziraphale tutted.

“Then what about a dog? Or a cat?” Crowley suggested. “Or, if you’re really keen, both.”

“Animals are lovely, but… I think we’d make great parents.” Aziraphale sighed. “Don’t you?”

“Angel… we’d watch that child live and die.” Crowley warned.

“Wouldn’t that be beautiful?” Aziraphale hummed.

“The living part, sure.” Crowley pointed out. “The dying part… that’s not going to be fun, angel. And what are we gonna tell them when we go through all his life without changing? Humans aren’t supposed to know about us.”

“Heaven and Hell don’t need to know about the child or what it knows.” Aziraphale countered

“But they will.” Crowley scoffed incredulously.

“Then… then perhaps we can try the growing old thing.” Aziraphale told him. “Together.”

“We don’t do that.” Crowley blinked.

“Our appearance is entirely up to us, Crowley.” Aziraphale considered. “We could age whenever and however we’d like- wouldn’t it be beautiful to watch each other grow?”

“You read too many books, Angel.” Crowley shook his head, chuckling faintly.

“But you have to admit… it all sounds good, doesn’t it?” Aziraphale asked, an urgency in his tone. Crowley wasn’t one for enthusiasm, and he knew that, but… the reactions he was giving still made Aziraphale a little nervous.

“Maybe.” Crowley smirked.

There was a brief beat of silence. Not an uncomfortable silence, though- the kind of silence that spoke. They both needed the moment to process everything that had been said. The spark in Crowley’s eyes told Aziraphale that he was just as excited about the future as he was. He hadn’t expected Crowley to be the one to make the first move. Aziraphale had planned many opportunities to confess his love… and as each came, Aziraphale lost his courage. But finally, finally, he had confirmation that the way he felt was mutual. The fantasies he’d had were mutual.

“I… I think I’m in love with you, Crowley- and I think that I have been for a very, very long time.” Aziraphale admitted.

“Really?” Crowley droned sarcastically. “Truly, Angel, I’d never have guessed.”

“Oh shut up.” Aziraphale flushed red.

“Is that any way to speak to the love of your life?” Crowley teased. Aziraphale was too flustered to come up with a good retort to that. “For the record, I love you too, Angel.”

“You do?” Aziraphale’s eyes lit up a little.

“I do.” Crowley assured him, taking Aziraphale’s hands and holding them to his chest. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“I suppose we’re a little stubborn.” Aziraphale considered.

“Understatement of the millennia.” Crowley scoffed before starting to chuckle.

“That, and… well, it’s going to be complicated.” Aziraphale considered. “Heaven and Hell aren’t going to like this. I mean, look at Beelzebub and Gabriel.”

“We don’t really need them, do we?” Crowley sighed softly. “We have each other. We’ve had each other from the beginning of time- from when I watched you ‘lose’ your sword… When I watched you defy Heaven to save Job’s children… When you watched me save Elspeth’s life. We aren’t theirs, Aziraphale, and we haven’t been for a very long time. We’re our own team- and quite frankly I think we’re the best team.”

“So do I.” Aziraphale agreed.

“We’ll work it out, Angel.” Crowley assured him. “It might take some time, but we’ll do it- I promise you that.”

“We’ll work it out…” Aziraphale repeated softly, nodding.

For some reason, he truly believed that they would.

Of course, he would. One can work anything out within their own mind- in their fantasies. But in the end, that’s all that they were- fantasies. Daydreams. Ideas that had raced into Aziraphale’s mind the minute Crowley’s lips had crashed against his own. In reality, the angel had neither held his demon close nor given him much of a kiss back. He’d frozen, arms never ceasing to flail, until he’d been tossed out of the kiss just as quickly as he’d been pulled into it. As he looked into the demon’s eyes, his own filled with tears, and be sputtered in an attempt to say something.

Fantasies were lovely, but they always tended to be just out of reach. The unfortunate thing was that Aziraphale may not have been the best angel, but… he was a good one- even if he didn’t want to be. He wanted so badly to stay here forever- to keep the dream alive- but… Heaven needed him. As long as Heaven needed him, he would be at its beck and call. No matter what he wanted, he would always go where they needed him. Crowley knew that better than anyone else because Crowley knew him better than anyone else.

It was exceptionally cruel, then, that Crowley had done this to him. That he’d known how hard this already was for Aziraphale- how hard Crowley himself had already made this by refusing to accept his offer- and yet still he’d kissed him. This was torture. It wasn’t done for love, as much as it might seem like it was to the unknowing viewer. It was, at best, a last-ditch attempt to stop Aziraphale. If that’s what it was, Crowley had to have known the odds of it working were slim to none… but he’d done it anyway. If it wasn’t… then this was done out of spite. Aziraphale wasn’t sure which hurt him more. He tried to find the words to respond- the words to tear a strip out of Crowley, to let him know what he’d done. But the eye-for-an-eye thing wasn’t in the angel’s nature. All that came out was this:

“I… I forgive you.”

“Don’t bother.” The demon grumbled, walking out of the shop and slamming the door shut.

Aziraphale felt a hand raise to his lips on instinct, tears starting to roll down his face. He had a very distinct feeling that a page was turning. No matter how he tried to push back, it was going to fall, and this chapter would close. This wonderful era of his life was finally at its end, and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it.

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

Btw if y’all have oneshot requests for Good Omens the Good Omens brain is currently going brrrrrr so feel free to send them in my asks!

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

they made their own stupid hell on earth.

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

You ever rewatch your canon material for a long form fic and do a little mwehehe when you find snippets and details that you hadn’t noticed before but tie in perfectly to the canon of your fic?

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

While my brain is on the matter I’ve not seen/ heard anyone talk about the fact that angels don’t dance and yet not only has Aziraphale danced the Apology Dance multiple times for Crowley, but he asks to dance specifically with Crowley in an environment he has specifically crafted to be romantic based on his own perception of what romance is.

In other words, our Angel is down bad.