#also i feel like Aziraphale COULD like the Velvet Underground?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

finleycannotdraw · 4 years

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Guess what? I’m re-binge-reading Good Omens. And here are some Obervations that I forgot about and some things I might put in fics. Also things I found funny. Basically my dumb commentary on the book.

Crowley actually flees Sister Mary. He doesn’t saunter vaguely away. He flees.

Ligur is rather more thoughtful than he’s portrayed in the show

Anathema likes to read about herself, and her teachers are confused because she spells words like Agnes Nutter

Crowley apologizes

By page 41, it is mentioned at least twice that Aziraphale and Crowley Do Not choose each other’s company for any reason other than that they are constants, that they have an Arrangement, and that they are Friends because being Enemies got boring.

Aziraphale blushes!!!!!!

The Drunk Scene is fuckin hilarious and it’s actually a lot longer than it is in the show, and really you ought to read it. (Book pages 47-50)

My mom (who has a PhD in human development) would probably like to talk to Crowley about upbringing because they seem to agree on how important it is

War has always looked 25, and had a vulture that died of fatty degeneration

Pollution is very cleverly compared to actual pollution

Warlock has Kermit the frog overalls, and Nanny Ashtoreth is described as someone who “advertises unspecified but strangely explicit services in certain magazines”. The tutors are present for about four paragraphs. Warlock is good at math and likes banana flavored bubblegum.

Crowley has a slice of angel cake. Aziraphale eats it. Aziraphale also eats deviled eggs. Hm.

Crowley calls Aziraphale angel casually enough to suggest he’s been doing it for a long time

Some girl at Warlock’s party calls Aziraphale a f*ggot

Crowley glares suspiciously at a gerbil. It is suggested that Hell has, in the past, sent hell-gerbils in place of hellhounds.

“Oh dear,” muttered Aziraphale, not swearing with the practiced ease of one who has spent six thousand years not swearing, and who wasn’t going to start now.

Adam and his friends play in a place called The Pit, where shopping carts go to die, apparently

Crowley is the first one to mention sides in the book!??!? Also Crowley goes on about how humans are more evil than Hell (but he calls himself evil—is he calling himself human already?)

Aziraphale yells “get off the road, you clown!”

“What’s a velvet underground?” *love confession???* “you wouldn’t like it”

Aziraphale is a bit rude to Crowley in the “flashes of love” scene and Crowley is less panicked about it

Crowley glares at the Bentley and it fixes itself

Anathema’s bike is called Phaeton

COULD THEY ACT ANY MORE MARRIED OH MY GOD

Aziraphale speaks like. Like ugh. “FlOUndeR on tHe rOcKS of inEquiTY”

“Thirty seconds later someone shot both of them. With incredible accuracy.” *cuts to a random pleasant story about Mary Hodges* *cuts back to where Aziraphale has fallen into a rhododendron and Crowley licks the paint before he knows it’s paint* dumbasses

Crowley does not slam Aziraphale into the wall

Crowley is actually pretty impatient and doesn’t argue with Aziraphale when he’s worried

“Nothing but dust and fundamentalists” “that was nasty” “sorry, couldn’t help it”

When the radio sings “Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me,” Crowley sings “for me” and then screams

Crowley asks Aziraphale if he’ll keep in touch, and Aziraphale doesn’t say tickety-boo, and then Crowley says “right” and feels very alone

the international express man is small and has glasses, and wears green woolen socks

The sword, which turns out to be Aziraphale’s, is described as having an aura of hatred and menace, which makes me think of how it could’ve gotten that aura from Heaven or from humanity or from War...

In the book Pepper has red hair and freckles, which makes it a cool comparison to War’s appearance and the defeat of War

Adam is excellent at slouching, apparently

Occasionally, as Aziraphale reads the book, he would very nearly swear

“He wouldn’t have said ‘that’s weird’ if a flock of sheep had cycled past playing violins.”

“If you had told him there were children starving in Africa he would’ve been flattered that you’d noticed.”

“...that he was English, that he was intelligent, and that he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide.” (151)

Wensleydale watches David Attenborough programs

Shadwell’s voice is described as “the color of an old raincoat” and seems to fake smoking cigarettes

Aziraphales cocoa is moldy and solidified by the time he calls Arthur Young, and has a thin layer of dust on himself too

Newt says that the walls look like nicotine and the floor looks like cigarette ash, and he suspects both are, actually, coated with these substances

Newt looks a bit like Clark Kent, and people seem to like Shadwell for some reason, much to his annoyance.

Aziraphale calls Shadwell “dear boy” on the phone

Agnes Nutter called God a daft old fool #goals

Adam is wayyyy too good at video games

Smelling Anathema’s perfume makes Newt uncomfortable

Adam suggests that Pepper ought to have Russia cause of her red hair (huh)

Anathema and Newt actually have decent conversations?? Like?? Show??? C’mon, man. The show kinda butchered their relationship.

Trees, apparently, make a ‘vvrooooommm’ sound when they grow very fast

“He suspected that Crowley was from the Mafia, or the underworld, although he would have been surprised how right he nearly was.” Shadwell also thought Aziraphale was a Russian spy. Wow, Shadwell.

Aziraphale calls Crowley and actually says “shut up” to him, and then when the answering machine beeps, he tells Crowley to “stop making noises” and then he swears for the first time ever.

The fuckin’ footnote on page 227

“A sleek computer was the sort of thing Crowley felt that the sort of human he tried to be would have.” I like the word choice here. He’s not pretending to be a human, he’s trying to be one. That’s a really important distinction.

It never actually says what Crowley does to his plants.

Crowley’s flat is very white. Wow, Crowley. It just looks dark because of the lighting. Heaven imagery and symbolism out my ears, goddammit.

Why does Hell say Crowley’s name so much when talking to him?? Honestly, I think that’s an intentional dig at his chosen name, using it in their speech to scare him. Wow, Hell. (And wow, Finn, excellent sentence)

Whenever the book says something is shaped like something, it definitely isn’t that thing. “man-shaped” “dog-shaped” “car-shaped”... makes it pretty obvious they aren’t men, dogs, or cars, huh.

The code to Crowley’s safe is 4004. The year he “slithered onto this stupid, marvelous planet”... and the year he met Aziraphale, of course. Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, Crowley, my dude.

Crowley consideres sticking Hastur into his car until he turns into Freddie Mercury but then decides even he isn’t that cruel

Actual text that I feel like nobody really agrees with: “Madame Tracy was by many yardsticks quite stupid”

“Do I look like I run a bookshop?” “...imagine me out of uniform, sir, and what kind of man would you see before you? Honestly?” “A prat.”

I’m crying. The fucking bookshop fire scene made me fucking cry. I’m literally crying.

“...on all fours in the blazing bookshop, Crowley cursed Aziraphale, and the ineffable plan, and Above, and Below.” “The police and firemen looked at him, saw the expression on his face, and stayed exactly where they were.” “...a crack of thunder so loud it hurt....” *the sound of Finley sobbing into their cat*

The shortest biker in the cafe thing is 6′2, what the fuck

War, Famine, Pollution, and Pop Trivia 1962-1979

“Pollution removed his helmet and shook out his long white hair. He had taken over when Pestilence, muttering about penicillin, had retired in 1936. If only the old boy had known what opportunities the future had held.” HMMMMMMMMMMM

“There were no bitches in Hell either.” I know it’s talking about female dogs, but I rather thought Hell was full of bitches.

“Why are you talking like a poofter?” “Ah. Australia.”

“gOsh, aM i on teLEviSiON?” (Basically Aziraphale gets passionate about stuff and likes to talk).

Crowley is actually an optimist and doesn’t dwell too much on how sucky the world is. He doesn’t go get smashed in a bar. He just finds Aziraphale’s notes in the book and heads to Tadfield. And also, his new pair of sunglasses just... materializes out of his eyes. And he likes to whistle.

“Death and Famine and War and Pollution continued biking to Tadfield. And Grievous Bodily Harm, Cruelty to Animals, Things Not Working Properly Even After You’ve Given Them A Good Thumping But Secretly No Alcohol Lager, and Really Cool People traveled with them.”

“on top of the pile a rather large octopus waved a languid tentacle at them. The sergeant resisted the temptation to wave back.” Honestly dude, if an octopus waved at me I’d wave back.

Wait Agnes was apparently talking to Shadwell and not God when she said yowe daft old foole. I dunno

Madame Tracy: You old silly. Shadwell:

Aziraphale does not know how to get rid of demons. Canonically. “Had never done other to get rid of demons than to hint to them very strongly that he, Aziraphale, had some work to be getting on with, and wasn’t it getting late? And Crowley always got the hint.”

The road to Hell is paved with frozen door to door salesmen, apparently. The question is where it is, because the demons always seem to just stem out of the ground.

“Heigh ho,” said Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway. I love this sentence during that scene.

I bet Hastur gets really mad whenever he hears Aziraphale’s voice from now on

Crowley isn’t breathing the entire burning Bentley scene

ADAM. SAID. “But I reckon you can make your own side” AND WE FUCKIN IGNORED IT?

The temperature above the M25 was simultaneously 700ºC and -140ºC which makes me think of something I read about magenta not being real. The M25 is magenta.

I feel like “Agnes” is just going to become an inside joke between Anathema and Newt at this point, and it will drive Crowley insane because he knows who she is but somehow still doesn’t get the joke.

I’m six inches taller than R.P. Tyler, and apparently according to the back sleeve of the book jacket, I’m very similar in height to Neil Gaiman

R.P. Tyler thought Shadwell was a ventriloquist’s dummy, and then sees cows doing somersaults

“That’s terrific. Much obliged,” said Crowley. — “Funny weather we’re having, isn’t it?” “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.” “Probably because your car is on fire.” .... Also the fact that Crowley looks like a young man which I find interesting.

“The Four Button-Pressers of the Apocalypse”

“Where is Armageddon, anyway?” “I’ve always meant to look that up.” “There’s an Armageddon, Pennsylvania”

Famine is the one that says “that’s one big avocado”, and also, I find it interesting that War, more than once, talks about love. (All is fair in love and war much?)

Anathema threatens the guard with a stick, pretending it’s a gun

Aziraphale, of course, asks Crowley to sort it out because he, Aziraphale, is “the nice one” and then proceeds to sort it out himself. Because of course he does. Because what else could he possibly do.

I just ADORE THIS BOOK OKAY

I’M PROBABLY GOING TO READ IT AGAIN IN A MONTH

Aziraphale and Crowley are so fuckin married I can’t

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angelite-and-serpentine · 4 years

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for the prompt thing: what about a post armageddon sick fic in the south downs? crowley is miserable with a cold and aziraphale fusses over him

Thank you so much for the prompt @ivory-line! I kept going back and forth about if I wanted this to be a full fledged fic or just a little ficlet. Which is to say, there’s room for this to grow, if you (or others) really like it and want me to continue it. But here you are! I hope you enjoy it!

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

The first sneeze came mid-morning, while Crowley watered the plants in his garden. It was the beginning of autumn, and his first year’s harvest was coming to a close. The plants weren’t as vibrant now as they were a few weeks ago. The plump tomatoes had been picked, and the last of the strawberries harvested. Above him the sky was bright, and the fields of South Downs seemed to roll beyond the horizon. He chalked up the sneeze to some insignificant irritation, a grain of dust or a bit of stray pollen.

A second sneeze followed, and then third. Crowley sniffed and rubbed at his nose. When was the last time he’d even sneezed? Maybe three years ago, when he was sifting through a particularly dusty box of records, in the back corner of a store, for The Velvet Underground’s first album. He bought the original in 1967, but it’d worn through from repeated listening.

Crowley sneezed again.

“Dear, is that you?” Aziraphale called from the open kitchen window.

“Yeah,” Crowley called back. He sniffed and could feel phlegm drip down the back of his throat.

Whatever noise Aziraphale was making in the kitchen stopped. He poked his head out of the room. “Are you sneezing?”

“ ‘Spose so.” Crowley shrugged.

“Are you getting sick?”

“I’m not sure I can get sick, Angel.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “You’ve gotten sick in the past.”

“That was one time.” Crowley sauntered over to the window ledge and leaned against it to be close to Aziraphale. “And it was the Black Plague. Hardly my fault I got it. All I as trying to do was team up with some rats to cause some mischief, and suddenly Hastur showed and the rats started infecting everyone, me included.” Crowley paused. “You know rats have never recovered from that. Public-image-wise, I mean. It’s been 700 years and the humans still give them a bad rap. There’s been one movie, one— where there’s a lead character that’s a rat, and the whole thing is based around how being a rat is so gross that it’s in conflict with his desire to be a chef.”

“You’re not immune to catching a cold my dear.” Aziraphale leaned across the window frame and put the back of his hand against Crowley’s forehead.

“You would have liked that little rat’s restaurant, angel.”

“I’m sure I would dear, but I rather think we need to get you inside. You’re burning up.”

“I’m a demon. That’s what we’re supposed to do,” Crowley said. He shifted from facing the windowsill to facing the door that Aziraphale was walking through.

“You’ve always run cold, though.” Aziraphlae reminded him, stepping out into the garden.

He placed an arm around Crowley’s waist. It was a light touch with just enough pressure to tell Crowley that he wasn’t to argue. Crowley leaned into the touch and placed his head on his partner’s shoulder.

“I’ve always liked rats, you know. Smart creatures, them.” Crowley said as he was led inside.

“Mmhmm.” Nodded Aziraphale. He was already flipping through memories of treating human colds. Nasty viruses really. It was hard to do much besides relieve the symptoms.

As they walked inside, Crowley glanced at the apple tree on the edge of their yard. Most of them were still green, but a few were started to turn red. In a few weeks he planned to pick them, peel them, and make a pie for Aziraphale. Maybe he’d decorate the edge of the crust with a little version of himself as a snake. That’d probably get a laugh out of Aziraphale.

“Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale paused his thoughts of tea-based remedies he might give to Crowley to focus in on his face, yellow eyes staring up at him. “Yes?”

“If I made a snake—well, me. Snake-me— out of pastry, would you want to eat my head or my tail first?”

“If you… would I??” Aziraphale squinted his eyes at Crowley, and all he saw was an easy, sincereness. His gaze softened. “I would probably eat your head first. Put you out of your misery quickly.”

“Is that why you always eat gingerbread men head first?”

Aziraphale held the door open for the two of them and walked into the air conditioned cottage. Crowley shivered, and Aziraphale wrapped his arm a little tighter around him.

“Also gummy bears and animal crackers,” he said after a beat.

“Huh.” Crowley slouched into him, trying to drink up more of his warmth. A wave of tiredness, that hadn’t been there before, hit him. “I think I might go lie down, angel.”

“I should hope so.” Aziraphale said. He placed a kiss on Crowley’s forehead. “I’ll have some tea for when you wake up.”

#ask #ask box prompt #good omens ficlet #good omens #aziraphale/crowley #my writing

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wholesome-revelry · 5 years

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fic: “Long-Term,” Aziraphale/Crowley, outsider POV | 1.6K, G

(Nominally a sequel to this)

Officiating weddings has got to be one of Dr. Blackwell’s favorite parts of ministry, and although she’s probably not supposed to have preferences, if she looks deep into her jaded lesbian heart with any degree of honesty, queer weddings are by far the best.

Take, for instance, the couple she’s consulting with this afternoon, for their upcoming October ceremony. Seemingly mismatched in every respect. The plump, fair-haired one looks like a parody of an absent-minded professor, as sketched by someone who didn’t bother to do much actual research; his clothes are so outdated it teeters on costume. He’s wearing a bowtie, and not in that reinvented hipster way. This is a bowtie unacquainted with the cycles of fashion, a bowtie that has never heard the word irony.

His partner is a rangy, black-clad ginger in snakeskin boots. He has the look of a hungover rocker about him, and would somehow, even without the sunglasses he has fully committed to wearing indoors on a cloudy afternoon. He’s sprawled almost defiantly in his chair and keeps throwing dubious glances around Dr. Blackwell’s office, as though expecting a lightning bolt to strike him down for merely daring to be within spitting distance of a church.

Everything about his posture screams ‘Extremely complicated feelings about religion ahoy!’

Ex-Catholic, Dr. Blackwell thinks sagely.

Something funny about their names, too. Their names are--

They’re--

(She knows they both gave her their names, but as she looks at their faces, there is a curiously name-shaped hole where the sounds should go. Every time she approaches the edges of this thought, it ripples and changes shapes, and whispers, ‘Don’t worry now, it’s really of no consequence, is it?’

Dr. Blackwell didn’t get a degree in Unitarian Universalist theology by looking away from paradoxes. ‘Curiosity is earthly and holy and wonderful,’ she tries to tell the thought, pushing forward, ‘even to question truly is an answer--’

‘Ah yes,’ the thought says after her third attempt, ‘very nice, but in this particular case--’ and the absence where their names should be yawns, stretches, and swallows down all of her related concerns with a shrug.)

She blinks. She watches as Bowtie casually takes Sunglasses’ hand, as Sunglasses responds with a look so gooey and sweet and private that she feels a bit weird for intruding. How, she thinks, the fuck did you two meet?

The only thing they seem to have in common, beyond their feelings for each other, is a certain aura of personal disaster. Still, let she whose outfit doesn’t heavily feature Birkenstocks and cat hair throw the first stone. So to speak.

“So,” says Dr. Blackwell, “anything in particular I should know first? Any thoughts, or concerns?”

“The hymns,” says Bowtie, “or. Uh. The songs, I suppose?” He coughs. “Any chance we could stick with ones that don’t, you know, prominently feature--?” He pointedly casts his eyes towards the ceiling and almost seems to mutter, “No point in asking for trouble.”

“Oh, of course,” she says, shaking off the flash of weirdness like an errant cobweb. “We have plenty of non-denominational hymns.”

“About what,” Sunglasses says with a slight sneer. “Tax forms? Penguins? Automotive repair?”

Oof. Definitely an ex-Catholic, she thinks. You can smell the baggage from here.

“Mostly about the inherent holiness in doing good, or the beauty of nature?” says Dr. Blackwell. “Sometimes, someone will sort of retrofit a classical melody to Transcendentalist poetry, but those tend not to scan so well, in my opinion.”

Somehow, without any eye contact, Sunglasses manages to give her a wary look.

“You can borrow a hymnal if you’d like,” she continues. “We tend to edit out the G-word anyway. Makes the atheists and the agnostics a bit jumpy, me included.” Bowtie starts.

“You don’t,” says Sunglasses, “believe in--?”

“Not really,” says Dr. Blackwell. “Suppose I’ll allow for the possibility, but in my mind, the existence of some divine Heavenly will is just not as important as other questions. Like ‘How do I do what’s right for the planet and everything on it?’”

“How do I avert the apocalypse,” Sunglasses murmurs.

“Exactly,” she says with a laugh, “although I’d settle for doing something about Brexit.”

Neither of them laugh, and after an awkward pause, she adds,

“As far as music goes, for the ceremony. If you’ve got a song that really resonates with you, no matter what it is, let me know and we can work that in.”

“No Queen,” says Sunglasses immediately.

It feels like there should be a story here, but Bowtie only turns to him and says, “What was that band you liked? Velveteen--”

“We’re not playing Velvet Underground at our wedding,” Sunglasses says.

“Same thing goes for readings, too,” says Dr. Blackwell. “If there’s a text that holds special meaning--”

“Hm,” says Bowtie, “yes, about that--” He reaches to his side and heaves an antique leather briefcase onto her desk. “May I?”

“Of course.”

Bowtie fiddles with the latch, which clicks open to reveal a mountain of papers: wine-stained cocktail napkins and looseleaf notebook pages, parchment-looking stuff, and everything in between. It’s a veritable avalanche of love poems, as well as quotations from various plays and books, all laboriously hand-copied in the same tidy penmanship.

“Angel,” says Sunglasses slowly. “What is this.”

Pink-cheeked, Bowtie flutters his hands. “Just--some things I’d been setting aside!”

“For how long,” Sunglasses says, leaning forward. He sounds delighted but also deeply confused.

“So sorry,” Bowtie tells Dr. Blackwell, “I really should’ve organized these better! Even a rudimentary system--”

“It’s fine,” she says, blankly. She really hopes it isn’t going to be her job to narrow down the options. There are literally hundreds.

“How long,” Sunglasses repeats.

“You know how long!” hisses Bowtie.

Sunglasses plucks a sheet off the pile, rubs it between his thumb and finger. “They stopped making paper like this in the nineteenth century,” he says, sounding strangely triumphant about it.

Dr. Blackwell furrows her forehead, where a number of facts are colliding uncomfortably inside, like how some of these specimens are clearly very new, some are so old she’d be uncomfortable touching them with her bare hands, and the handwriting on every one of them is identical.

“Oh!” she says with sudden bright clarity. “Are you two vintage paper enthusiasts?”

“Yes,” says Bowtie. “Love it, love the stuff, simply cannot get enough.” And then, to Sunglasses, with a pointed look in Dr. Blackwell’s direction, “We’ll talk about it later.”

Maybe they met at a convention, she thinks. That’s nice.

“How about you pick out your top five first?” she suggests. “Or ten.” She glances down at the mound of text. “Also, we might need to get some volunteer readers for some of these, because my French isn’t exactly up to par. Or my--is that Middle English?”

“Haha, how did that get in there, couldn’t even begin to guess,” Bowtie babbles. He has to brace most of his weight on the briefcase lid to wrench it closed again. Sunglasses watches with interest, chin resting in his hands. “Yes, I will, I will absolutely weed some of these out, not to worry--”

The rest of the conversation is standard, for the most part. It’s going to be a relatively small ceremony, no child ring bearers and thankfully no animal ones either. (They have a whiff of eccentricity that had made Dr. Blackwell nervous one of them might suddenly produce a cat on a leash, insisting it was trained. In her experience, granting your beloved calico or tabby custodianship of the rings was a quick recipe for a ringless, catless wedding.) Only a shared stricken look at the possibility of involving any parents in the proceedings.

This, sadly, is also quite standard with older queer couples.

“Between you and me,” says Dr. Blackwell, “and I know this isn’t very ministerial of me. But if the people who raised you don’t support what you have together, which is clearly a wonderful and beautiful and life-affirming thing, I say to Hell with ‘em, you know?”

Bowtie chuckles unsteadily. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

“How long have you two been together?” she asks.

Bowtie and Sunglasses stare at each other. There is a long beat of silence. This is normally, she thinks, not a very hard question.

“How long have we been together?” says Sunglasses at last. The shades may hide his eyes but every molecule of his being is oriented at his fiance. “Hm?”

“Six thousand--” Bowtie starts, resolute.

“What,” says Dr. Blackwell.

“Days!” Bowtie finishes. “Six thousand days!”

“So,” she does some fast mental math, “about sixteen years, then?”

“Yes,” says Bowtie decisively.

“That’s great,” says Dr. Blackwell. “I’ve been with my wife for almost six years, I hope we’re still this much in love a decade from now.” There’s just something so reassuring about meeting older queer couples, she thinks. Bowtie and Sunglasses must be at least forty. Maybe fifty?

(It’s odd; they’re clearly solid, clearly sitting in front of her, but every time she tries to clue into any specific detail about either of them, her mind sort of skitters away from it--

Her head hurts.)

“Guessing you want a short service,” she says, rubbing at her forehead. “I’ll just write out a few remarks for you two to look over first, if that’s alright? I can email something to you by the end of the week.”

“Sounds perfect!” says Bowtie.

They shake hands. She watches them leave, watches Sunglasses mutter something in Bowtie’s ear that makes him smile on the way out the door.

Pair of oddballs, but in a nice way, she thinks. You can’t always tell, as a minster, which couples are going to make it in the long run, but she hopes this all works out for them. Maybe it will. They’ve already stood the test of time, it seems.

Sixteen years--they’ve been together since early 2000.

Imagine, she thinks. Just imagine.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #codename pending #sort of a pre-marriage fic #99% fluff and 1% soft eldritch horror #not sure about ao3ing this one bc it's just so self-indulgent

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ourownsideimagines · 5 years

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Daily Doodles (Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley Soulmate AU)

Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley, Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: @ellenatyler

Point of View: Second Person, Crowley

Warnings: None

Words: 877

A/N: The Soulmate AU I chose for this one is the one where whatever you draw on your skin appears on the skin of your soulmate. Also, this is a fem!reader, but again, gendered terms aren’t easy to use when doing second person POV

---

A neon pink heart, right on his wrist.

God, Crowley could just kill you sometimes. Not that he didn’t enjoy getting your little drawings and messages while you were in class, but sometimes it absolutely ruined his aesthetic. Like that one time you decided to use a purple glitter pen to draw little snails on your hands. Though, truth be told, he still wasn’t sure if that was actually you, or if it was Aziraphale.

The only reason he knew this was you, was because of the messy handwriting beneath it that reminded him to take the new Velvet Underground CD out of the Bentley, followed by a few more hearts.

Crowley could remember the first time any kind of note or drawing appeared on his skin. It had been a couple thousand years ago, when Aziraphale was penning a document of some sort when he spilled ink all over his hand, subsequently staining Crowley's skin as well. The two spent years trying to deny it. In fact, they avoided each other for two centuries before they would admit it. And for the last few thousand years they had happily been together in secret.

The two of them never imagined they would have a second soulmate.

The first sign was when they would get little squiggles they would get all over their arms. Then, the little happy faces and half-legible letters and numbers.

The first note they ever got from you said ‘Hullo, i am (name) an i don no who u r but i luv u anyway’. The older you got, the more clear messages became. The boys avoided writing back, unsure what they would even tell you. Crowley would never admit it out loud, but he fell in love when you went into your poetry phase. Sometimes, he would wake up with multiple stanzas covering his legs, or simple little lines on his forearm.

Crowley could remember the last line you wrote them before they eventually sought you out.

I will follow you to pluto and back, I feel your hearts, I see you in my dreams, my angel and demon, I wait for thee.

It was very rare for someone to see their soulmates in their dreams - rare, but not impossible. Less than 1 percent of the population, Crowley assumed. Then again, not everyone had two soul mates either, let alone an Angel and a demon. You were bound to be lucky - you were bound to be special.

The sound of his name being called snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Crowley.” the barista called out again. “Mr. Anthony Crowley.” She placed the drink tray on the counter. Crowley gave her a small nod before taking the drinks and walking out. He got into the Bentley, drinks balanced magically onto the seat beside him, because lord knew if they spilled not only would he be furious, but his soul mates would be rather upset. He grabbed a pen from the glove compartment, hidden among his sunglasses, and quickly scribbled down that he’d be at the book shop in five minutes.

There was an almost instant reply in the same pink color saying that you’d just arrived and would be awaiting his arrival. There were a few added hearts, in black pen, that he assumed to be from Aziraphale. He smiled.

When he entered the bookshop, he set down the drinks and opened his arms. He let out a small grunt from the impact of your hug, but gladly wrapped his arms around you. Aziraphale approached much more calm, a smile on his perfect, angelic face. Crowley leaned over, giving the angel a small kiss before pressing another to the top of your head.

“I got the usual,” Crowley said as you let go of him. He handed you your drink, and he handed Aziraphale his tea.

“Thank you, my dear.” Aziraphale smiled. He placed a kiss on Crowley’s cheek, then another on your temple before moving back to his desk.

“How was class today, darling?” Crowley asked you.

“Boring.” You sighed. “I knew pretty much everything the professor was telling us. I have a feeling the rest of this week is going to be a total drag because it’s all we’re gonna be talking about.”

“Better to know the content than to learn it at the last minute, my love.” Aziraphale reminded you. Crowley hummed gently in agreement before remembering your note.

“And pink pen? Really?” You grinned at him, taking a long sip of your drink.

“Maybe,” You said, dragging out the last syllable. “Why? Did you not like my hearts?”

“Doesn’t exactly match my style darling.” He said, taking off his sunglasses. He set them on the table before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a soft kiss. You giggled softly as he pulled away, eyes closed.

“Did you grab the CD?” You asked. His eyes snapped open, staring down at you intently before he removed an arm from around your waist, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the case.

“What would I do without you?” He joked.

“You’d have only the Best of Queen to listen to.” You laughed. Then, you gave him another soft kiss. “And you wouldn’t have any pink notes on your skin.”

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years

Text

Pale Blue Eyes (Rated T)

Summary:

Caught between the rest of their lives and the end of their lives, Crowley and Aziraphale take the bus back to Crowley's flat to wait out the night. But while innocently picking around Crowley's office, Aziraphale literally presses the button that reveals Crowley's longest held secret. (1438 words)

Notes: Inspired by this tumblr ask from Neil Gaiman. Also, do me a favor - if you can, go to YouTube, pull up the song Pale Blue Eyes, and start listening when Aziraphale presses play.

(AO3)

“Make yourself at home, angel,” Crowley says, removing his glasses and tossing them to his right. Only there’s nothing to catch them, and Aziraphale doesn’t hear them fall. He wonders if Crowley miracled them somewhere. Or do they just know their place in his home and go there on their own? Either way, they’re gone, and Aziraphale is glad about that.

He doesn’t know how to let on, but he’s rather fond of Crowley’s eyes.

“Mi casa es su … oh …”

“Oh?” Aziraphale yelps, nearly running into Crowley when he stops short. “What do you mean oh?”

“Oh,” Crowley says, preceding slowly into the living room, sweeping his eyes suspiciously around, “as in, it was a bit more of a mess when I left. Looks like someone tidied up. Weren’t me, though.”

“More of a mess?” Aziraphale follows, looking for himself, his brow crinkling at the immaculate room, not a spot he can see; unlike his bookshop, which is neat in his opinion, but with organized clutter and carefully curated stacks instead of open spaces, the way a museum storage room might be considered neat as long as the janitor sweeps the sawdust off the floor. “This is a mess to you?”

“Mmm … ngh … well, yes.” Crowley stops sneaking and strolls, more relaxed, through to his office, when he’s satisfied nothing strange or demonic is afoot. “I haven’t polished the floors in weeks.”

“Well, all right.” Aziraphale peers down and sees a perfect reflection looking back at him. “I see your point then.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Another one?” Aziraphale jokes, even though, after sharing a bottle of red wine, he still feels quite sober. Depressingly so. “Don’t you think we’ve had enough?”

He roams the perimeter of Crowley’s office, examining the few things he keeps in there – an ornate desk, a disgustingly elaborate chair to match, an answering machine, a large reference book on the universe (strange for a demon who claims not to read), and off in a far corner, a relatively small stereo seated on a white pedestal. To Aziraphale’s eyes, it doesn’t look like it’s attached to any speakers.

He doesn’t even think it’s plugged in.

“That was wine, angel. I’m talking about something stronger, something more suitable for toasting the Not-end-of-the-world.”

“What did you have in mind?” Aziraphale pushes what looks to be an on button, and then another that brings up an abbreviated menu on a narrow screen. “Velvet Underground,” he mumbles to himself when the name scrolls. Hmm. Didn’t Crowley say he wouldn’t like it?

Time to find out.

“Absinthe,” Crowley replies, turning as Aziraphale presses play. “Angel?” He puts the bottle of green alcohol down and hurries over, hoping he can get to him before the music starts to play.

A slow guitar rhythm and tambourine beat solidifies the fact that he didn’t. A single male vocalist joins, singing wistful words to the two of them alone in the room.

Sometimes I feel so happy

Sometimes I feel so sad

Sometimes I feel so happy

But mostly you just make me mad

Baby you just make me mad

“What is this?” Aziraphale asks.

“It’s … uh … the last song I listened to.”

Aziraphale eyes the screen, searching for a title, but it doesn’t indicate one. It only shows the number of the track - 4. There’s a strange symbol next to it, a circle with an arrow that he swears he’s seen before. If he’s correct, that symbol means repeat.

This song is on repeat.

“Do you listen to it a lot?”

“You might say that.”

“It’s nice. Is this song on that album in your car?”

Crowley doesn’t want to answer. One word, yes or no, could reveal too much. But he owes Aziraphale an answer after all the trust he’s put in him throughout the years.

“Yes.”

Linger on your pale blue eyes

Aziraphale tilts his head at the chorus. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever asked what color your eyes were. I’m so used to them looking the way they are. Were they blue before …?” He gestures awkwardly to the ceiling, snatching his hand back quickly before he has the chance to offend. Crowley shakes his head.

“No. They weren’t.” He takes a step towards the stereo, trying to devise a subtle way to turn the song off. If he snaps his fingers, Aziraphale might figure him out.

He might get a clue to what he’s hidden for so long.

Thought of you as my mountain top

Thought of you as my peak

Thought of you as everything

I've had but couldn't keep

“Why haven’t you played this for me before?”

Crowley sighs heavily, his head hanging as he regards his reflection in the floor, trying to think his way out of this. But he can’t.

And maybe he shouldn’t.

They stared down death too many times to count today, including Satan himself, and survived.

They got a second chance and not just at life here on Earth.

Tomorrow, that chance might be snatched away from them.

This isn’t the time to be keeping secrets.

Crowley extends a hand to Aziraphale, lifts his gaze to look into the angel’s eyes.

“Dance with me?”

“I …” Aziraphale looks from Crowley’s hand to his face, golden eyes glowing softly in the dark, “it’s been a long time since I’ve danced to anything. I’ll look ridiculous.”

“Nobody’s here to see.”

“You’re here.”

“That’s the point.” Crowley walks toward him, taking his hand from where it hangs at his side. “We’re here together … and I’ve wanted to dance with you for so long …”

“Just so you know, I’ve never slow danced before,” Aziraphale confesses, letting Crowley pull him into his arms. “There’s a 90% chance I’ll go left when I should go right and trample all over your feet.”

“You’re an angel.” Crowley puts a hand to the small of Aziraphale’s back. “I don’t think you can do the wrong thing.”

Aziraphale chuckles nervously. “Cheeky.”

If I could make the world as pure

And strange as what I see

I’d put you in the mirror

I put in front of me

Aziraphale barely moves his feet, terrified that he’s going to trip Crowley up, but as it turns out, he doesn’t need to. Crowley leads and Aziraphale floats, hovering an inch above the ground. But whose magic is doing it, he can’t tell. With Crowley holding him like this, he can no more feel the demon in him than he can feel the angel in himself.

Their magic feels so similar, it might as well be one.

It was good what we did yesterday

And I'll do it once again

The fact that you are married

Only proves you’re my best friend

But it’s truly, truly a sin

They drift towards the windows that line Crowley’s office. Aziraphale glimpses the city outside, asleep beneath an indigo sky and silver moon. They pass beyond the reach of the moonlight, moving into a space so inky black all he can see in the final window is their reflection.

He catches his own, his face staring back at him.

And his eyes. His blue eyes.

Linger on your pale blue eyes

Aziraphale’s eyes grow wider.

‘Oh dear …’

“Crowley?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you listen to this song so much?”

“Because …” Crowley swallows hard “… it reminds me of something important … something that I’ve wanted for a long time, but I don’t think I’ll ever have.”

“And what’s that?”

Crowley sighs again, his answer coming at the tail end, scattered to the cracks forming in his voice: “My best friend.”

“O-oh.”

The song ends, the final chord bleeding into the silence and leaving them there, swaying to the memory of the music. Aziraphale feels Crowley slow, feels his feet touch the ground. That re-connect with Earth, with reality, fills Aziraphale with a cold creeping dread.

They can only guess what might happen tomorrow – what might happen tonight if Heaven and Hell get their forces together and decide not to wait.

Standing here, a tension wrapped around them that he could cut with a knife …

… it feels too much like a prelude to an ending.

“Do we … do we have to stop dancing?” Aziraphale asks. “Because I would rather not stop … if it’s all the same to you.”

“No, we don’t have to stop,” Crowley says, his breath catching when Aziraphale rests his head on his shoulder, taking a step in so Crowley will hold him tighter. “If we give it a moment, it’ll start over again.”

#good omens #ineffable idiots #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #frankie writes

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moveslikebuckywrites · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub (Good Omens), Dagon (Good Omens), Hastur (Good Omens), Gabriel (Good Omens), Uriel (Good Omens), Disposable Demon (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Fluff, Bodyswap, Episode: s01e06 The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives, Aziraphale loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens) ---

Back at it again with the Gift Fics! this one for @apple-duty whom I love so very much, I hope you like it <3

The song prompt Apple gave me was I’ll Be Your Mirror by The Velvet Underground, so of course I wrote a body swap fic xD

You can read it on AO3 or the full fic is under the cut (but you’ll miss the very lovely poster; that's only on AO3)

---

The first thing Aziraphale is aware of is the stench. Like rotting eggs mixed with bile mixed with month old trash with just a hint of lilac. As if someone decided to pin all of their hopes and dreams on a multipack of Poundland air fresheners.

Also it’s wet. The air feels damp; his clothes feel damp. He can hear dripping coming from somewhere. That constant trickle of a faucet drip, but one that never quite keeps to a pattern. The kind where you expect the drip, but then it’s just a millisecond off course and grates on your nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard.

It’s a veritable assault on his senses. After all, Aziraphale has standards. He also has a throbbing pain in his head that he doesn’t quite remember where it came from. He keeps his eyes screwed shut, trying to will the pain out of his head.

Think back, try to remember. He’d been in the park with Crowley. He’d had ice cream. He liked ice cream. No, focus back. Angels; a kidnapping. The Sound of Music? Still sick of that one. Then a crowbar. Tickety-boo. But it’s all backwards because…

Aziraphale finally opens his eyes. Everything is dark, impossibly dark. Sunglasses, of course. Oh dear, that’s right, they’ve swapped faces. He’s in Hell wearing Crowley’s face; laid out on a concrete slab in what appears to be a prison cell.

He sits up and takes stock of his surroundings: four concrete walls with no visible door, the concrete slab, and a poster on the wall. The poster has a kitten hanging from a tree branch, it says “Hang in There!” at the top. Underneath, in a scrawl, it says “The Worst Is Yet to Come” with a crude approximation of a smiley face1. It’s unsettling at best, completely idiotic at worst.

He lies back down on the slab. It’s uncomfortable, but far from the worst place he’s ever rested. There’s nothing for it now, all he can do is wait. Whatever denizens of Hell have been charged with capturing him will come back for him soon enough.

After all, “the worst is yet to come”.

He has to focus, he has to become Crowley. This won’t be difficult, he’s known Crowley so long. Aziraphale has memorized nearly everything there is to know about the demon - for thwarting purposes, obviously.

He knows the kinds of quips Crowley would make in the face of adversity. How he carries himself around perceived authority. How he walks like he’s not sure what exactly ‘hip bones’ are supposed to be.

But he also knows Crowley’s kind heart and his clever mind. He knows Crowley’s loyalty. And it is loyalty, isn’t it? He never went to Alpha-Centauri. He never would have, not without Aziraphale along for the ride.

He knows how the lines around Crowley’s eyes crinkle differently when a smile is genuine. How he stammers when he’s overwhelmed or embarrassed. How when he’s had just a bit too much red he starts to hiss at the end of his words. How he can captivate a room, hold it in the palm of his hand like an apple on offering. How when he laughs, he laughs deep and full and melodic.

He knows so much about Crowley; the being in the world he holds most dear in this life.

He’ll have to channel all of that to keep Crowley safe, and he knows that right now Crowley is doing the same for him in Heaven. They’ll survive this, they have to. Aziraphale can reflect everything Crowley is right at them and win Crowley his freedom.

Aziraphale closes his eyes and a razor sharp memory comes back to him unbidden. A church in 1941, the burning remains of a house of God that signalled the beginning of Aziraphale’s own awareness. He’d been falling for a long time, but not from Grace.

He’d seen it, in Crowley’s flat the night before. The eagle lectern from the church. Sentimental old serpent.

When this is over, if they survive, there’s no need to hide any longer. Their sides are perfectly aware of their “fraternizing”.

If they get out of this, Aziraphale resolves to tell Crowley what he’s known for so long, in the deepest recesses of his angel’s heart. He loves Crowley, with every fiber of his being that shouldn’t. And when this is over, he’s going to tell him just that.

---

Ozone. Overwhelming, nostril burning, ozone. Like an overactive air conditioner. And pine, but that particular artificial pine. Cleaning solution. Hovering over the surface like someone dumped an undiluted jug of it on the floor and just walked away.

And the light, it’s so harsh. Hell is supposed to be harsh, but this is on another level. He can’t see anything else for how bright the light is, these eyes that are not his are taking their sweet time adjusting. He strains his wrists against the rope restraining him. It’s rough and itchy, obviously imbued with some kind of celestial energy since he can’t will it away.

The room feels cold, like an unbearable chill. But he can still feel himself sweating. Like the worst waiting room in the known universe. No temperature regulation to be had. It’s ironic, he thinks, if this is supposed to be where you want to end up. The chair that creaks every time he moves is not helping. It’s so uncomfortable he wants to scream.

He can’t, of course. He’s bound and gagged. By angels, of all things. Figured his lot would go in for that before Heaven did. Hell has several agents with those kinds of things as their purview (for pain and for pleasure, and for that weird place they intersect.)

Ah well, focus on something else.

The windows are a nice touch - floor to ceiling polished glass. He can see all the wonders of the world from here, and even Crowley has to admit the view from the top is nice. But it’s so empty. A vast hall with no life in it whatsoever. Where are they keeping all those alleged pure souls? Not here, obviously.

It’s lonely, he realizes, with a twinge of affection for a certain ineffable being. One that he’s currently wearing the face of.

No wonder the angel surrounds himself with books and food and the finer things. There’s nothing here. Nothing but overly bright and overly clean.

Aziraphale belongs in a dusty bookshop. He belongs on Earth with the humdrum monotony of human life and the ever-changing majesty of human invention. Not in this place.

This place that belittles him, makes fun of his hobbies, of his corporation, of his soft heart, of his do-gooder nature. Everything that makes Aziraphale, well, Aziraphale.

This place never deserved him. Never deserved an angel that cared about every being he came across, even so much as to cover a lowly demon with his wing in the rain; or who cares so much about humanity he’ll swan dive away and straight back down to Earth for an infinitesimal chance to save them all.

They’ve never deserved the one angel who truly is a being of pure love. They were never his angel’s home. Home doesn’t treat you like that; home is supposed to be a place of love.

He shakes his head. Gotta play the part, he thinks. He knows Aziraphale better than he knows himself. Aziraphale has a few nervous tics, but underneath is a soldier. A guardian charged with protecting the first of humanity. A protector who has watched over the Earth and its inhabitants for longer than anyone or anything else (save for two).

A being of so much immeasurable ethereal power that a mortal being could never comprehend his true form. A being of so much love that it overwhelms even a demon who shouldn’t be able to sense that anymore. A being who cares about things like crepes and Shakespeare and nonsense first editions of books no one even remembers anymore.

A being who cares about him. Who cares about Crowley. And is right now in Hell wearing his face and being strong for him.

Crowley can do the same. He can be a mirror image of Aziraphale, in every way. He has to.

And when he gets out of here, the first thing he’s gonna do is finally, finally kiss his angel senseless. Let him know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that he is wanted, that he is loved, and that he is home. Crowley will be there - for as long as Aziraphale would have him - to show him how wonderful he is, how beautiful he is, and how absolutely loved he is.

Even love from something wretched is better than the falsehood of this place. Crowley had learned that the hard way in the early days.

But when this is over, he’ll be there to hold Aziraphale together, to be the light on the door that leads him home.

---

“Demon Crowley,” Beelzebub sneered, “I sentence you to extinction via holy water. Have you anything to say?”

This trial had been a farce at best. Just evidence and an execution sentence. But they had been prepared for this.

“Well, yes,” ‘Crowley’ says after a bit of contemplation. “This is a new jacket and I’d hate to ruin it. Would you mind if I took it off?”

Beelzebub rolls their eyes and Dagon groans. He hears Hastur mutter something about “flash bastards” under his breath. Aziraphale turns and takes off the jacket, folding it neatly over a metal chair in the corner.

He spares a couple of passing glances to the tub full of holy water next to him, saying a silent prayer to no one that this works. He can feel the residual energy radiating off of the water and he suppresses a shudder as he strips down to just Crowley’s socks and underwear.

He’s wearing his demon’s face and facing down the very thing he’s feared for so long would be Crowley’s undoing. How long has he been terrified of this? Ever since that horrid argument in 1862 he’s feared for the demon where holy water is concerned.

The lengths Crowley had gone to to get it has scared him, but it had been worth it in the end. Aziraphale can’t imagine a life without Crowley in it, and hopefully after this he won’t have to.

He moves to the tub, stands staring into the water. It feels a bit like things coming full circle, at this point. “Any time now, traitor,” Hastur calls to him, “We don’t have all day.”

He turns around, takes a deep breath, and falls in backwards with a dramatic splash. Aziraphale is gripped by a momentary panic as he hears the tell tale pops and sizzles of holy water-induced destruction. It soon becomes apparent that this is just the residual demonic energy on the floors and walls, sizzling away into the ether when it mingles with the splashed water.

Oh, that means this is going to be fun. He can’t resist, tossing a bit of water towards the window of the demons staring at him. Watching them scream and recoil. He smirks in a way that he hopes fits on Crowley’s face.

“I don’t suppose that anywhere in the nine circles of Hell there’s such a thing as a rubber duck?” Aziraphale asks to the room in general, finally turning to his supposed ‘jury of peers’. He has to suppress a laugh. Dagon is cowering behind Beelzebub, who looks like they just witnessed Gabriel trying to dance the salsa.

“No?” he asks with an obvious lilt to his voice. When they don’t answer he goes back to his humming and splashing, being as ‘flash’ as he can possibly be.

“He’s gone native,” Beelzebub croaks out while Dagon cowers behind them, “He isn’t one of us anymore.”

“So you’re probably thinking,” Aziraphale says with a flourish, draping himself over the edge of the tub as though he doesn’t know what bones are, “‘If he can do this, I wonder what else he can do?’”

He watches their faces, sees the fear underneath. Angels can sense love, that’s true. But they can sense other things, too. Fear, in particular. They’re meant to assuage fears, to calm and reassure. But Aziraphale has been playing both sides for long enough in the Arrangement that he knows how to nurture that fear as well.

He stares Beelzebub right in their beady eyes, “And very, very soon, you’re all going to get the chance to find out.”

“He’s bluffing, we can take him,” Hastur says, a bit too quickly to be casual, “One demon against the rest of Hell? What’s he going to do?” Aziraphale pays him no mind, Dukes of Hell are beneath Principalities anyway. And none of the demons in Hell are fit to even look at Crowley’s face, as far as he’s concerned.

“Shut it! Get him out of here, this’ll cause a riot,” Beelzebub shouts while rushing to block the window to the peanut gallery; Aziraphale honest-to-someone giggles. Beelzebub keeps shouting, “What are you all looking at? Nothing to see! Nothing to see here!”

There are footsteps and a flickering of fluorescent lighting, and Aziraphale turns to see Michael, prim and proper as always, strolling down the hallway without a care.

“I came to bring back the - oh, Lord.”

Aziraphale almost wishes he had a camera phone, just so he could preserve the shocked look on the archangel’s face. For days when he needs a good laugh

“Michael! Dude. Do us a quick miracle, will you?” He says, hand outstretched, not wanting to waste an opportunity and feeling emboldened by wearing Crowley’s face, “I need a bath towel.”

Michael hands him one in an instant, still looking shocked as anything. The confidence that comes from being Crowley is exhilarating. The more he gets away with, the bolder he is. Aziraphale decides right then and there, he’s going to make sure they never, ever threaten Crowley again.

“I think it would be better for everyone,” he puts on his best angelic fury voice, preying further on that seeping feeling of fear, “if I were to be left alone in the future. Don’t you?”

He stares each of them down in turn, holding eye contact and glaring into their very souls. He waits for each to nod in turn before deciding he’s satisfied.

“Right,” he says with a smirk and a wiggle (he is still him after all, even wearing Crowley’s face), before getting out of the tub and doing his best saunter towards the exit.

He heads for the elevator, stands still as a statue as he waits for it. He’s in such a hurry to leave he nearly runs into one of the Erics on his way in. As soon as the doors close, he sinks against the elevator wall and sobs. Aziraphale cries as he feels the worry wash away from him, the worry that’s plagued him for centuries now. Crowley is finally free, and Aziraphale couldn’t be more relieved.

---

“Can I hit him? I’ve always wanted to hit an angel.”

Of course Eric would want to take advantage of an opportunity. Idiot that he is,

Sandalphon grins, gold tooth glinting in the harsh lighting. “Go for it,” he says with contempt. Aziraphale had told Crowley about earlier the day before, when the Archangels had cornered him in an alleyway. Now it seemed they didn’t want to get their hands dirtier than necessary.

Eric stands in front of him, reeling his fist back like he’s gonna be able to do anything. Lowly disposable demons, always wanna be above their station. Crowley can’t break character, but he isn’t gonna let this asshole get a punch in.

He stares coldly into Eric’s face, pouring every but of contempt he can without breaking the facade. He can’t let them see him crack. He can’t let them see Aziraphale crack.

He screws his angel’s face into what he knows Aziraphale to be. Brave and steadfast, even in the face of adversity. Never truly backing down when he’s up against the wall. And he lets out one, teeny, tiny little smirk. Just enough that only Eric would be able to see it.

“I...should be getting back,” Eric stammers, fear radiating in waves,”I’ll come and pick up the Hellfire in, what, an hour?”

“Barbecue will be over by then,” Uriel says with all of the enthusiasm of a uni student with a 5 AM math class.

Uriel makes her way over to him and unties the ropes on his wrists in one movement, “Up.”

And he does jump up, because that’s what Aziraphale would do. He adjusts his clothing - waistcoat, bowtie, cuffs - same way Aziraphale has always done. The nervous tic that’s been his calling card for millennia.

“I don’t suppose I could persuade you to reconsider?” Crowley knows the angel would make one last attempt, one last gesture to give them the opportunity to do the right thing. “We’re meant to be the good guys, for Heaven’s sake.”

“Well for Heaven’s sake,” Gabriel says with his corporate smile, “we make an example out of traitors. So...into the flame.”

Crowley stares at the pillar of hellfire for a beat, more than a little concerned with if their plan will work or not. He thinks of his angel, burning in hellfire, burning out of existence.

He thinks of a bookshop. Of a Queen record melting to a gramophone. Of linen pages and leather binding going up in smoke. Of himself, on the floor, soaked to the bone, screaming to no one and nothing. Of an angel shaped hole in his life.

Crowley thinks of how relieved he was, sitting there drunk on Taliskers, when Aziraphale had materialized in front of him. Not himself again, not yet, but safe. Where are you, wherever it is, I’ll come find you. He’d meant it, and Crowley had found his angel again at the end of the world.

He’d screamed through fire, he’d drove through fire, and now he’d walk through fire. All for his angel.

“Right, well, lovely knowing you all,” Crowley says, knowing Aziraphale would be kind, even to the last. “May we meet again on a better occasion.”

“Shut your stupid mouth and die already,” the smile that Gabriel gives him now makes him want to vomit; it’s so callous and fake. He stares Gabriel right in the eyes as he steps forward. The heat from the pillar is warm and comforting; he’s a demon, after all, he was born anew in Hellfire after the fall.

Crowley takes a deep breath and walks in, letting his body adjust to the heat. It’s comforting, in a twisted sort of way. Like a nice screaming hot bath at the end of a particularly difficult day.

Crowley sighs and rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck a couple times for good measure. Hellfire is surprisingly good for the joints, when it doesn’t kill you instantly. Gabriel and the other archangels are staring at him, stupid gaping looks on their faces.

What’s a field trip to heaven without a little bit of fun at the expense of some right bastards?

He breathes Hellfire right in their faces, laughing as they scamper back liked spooked rats. He thinks to himself that it’s a shame that the Hellfire didn’t hit any of them.

Sandalphon looks like he’s about to jump out of his skin. Uriel is shivering. Gabriel is wearing his fake corporate smile again, trying to find a way to salvage the situation.

“It may be worse than we thought,” he stammers out, Sandalphon hiding behind him like a scared little kid.

“What...is he?” Uriel asks, the only one with a level head in this situation.

“You see,” Crowley says in a multi-layered version of Aziraphale’s voice, “I don’t think you want to know what I am. Because the less you know, the less danger you’ll be in.”

Crowley weaves his hand in front of him, almost like an orchestral conductor, swirling the Hellfire between his fingers. Shaping it into little spheres and then banishing them back to the rest of it, acting for all the world like he doesn’t care.

“Gabriel, we need to go to damage control,” Uriel says, tugging on Gabriel’s sleeve, “If word gets out about this.”

“You’re right, yes, of course,” Gabriel stammers, rubbing his temples with one hand, “It’ll start riots, I know. Fine, Aziraphale, just...get out of the fire.”

“Oh are you sure? I’m just working on my tan a bit, it’s ever so dreary in my bookshop, I don’t get much sun you know.”

“Just leave, Aziraphale!” Gabriel shouts, face red and perfectly done hair falling out of place. That alone was worth the trip, to break the composure of the Archangel Fucking Gabriel (what a prick).

“Ah, right then, I’ll just…” he steps gingerly out of the fire, adjusts his clothing again (waistcoat, bowtie, cuffs - every single time), and worries his hands together as he heads for the exit.

He gets in the elevator that will take him back to the lobby, where he’ll hurry to the prearranged rendezvous point as fast as he can. As soon as the door closes, he collapses against the wall and laughs. Big, full, gargantuan laughs. Soon enough his sides is hurting and he hadn’t even known their corporations were capable of that.

Aziraphale is free now, and Crowley has never been happier.

---

Aziraphale fidgets anxiously on the park bench. Crowley should’ve been back by now, he’s sure of it. He’d been half expecting to meet him in the elevator or the lobby, if he’s honest. Then again, Heaven does like to drag things out.

It’s all he can do to keep from jumping from the bench when he sees his own usual corporeal form heading towards him. They did it, they survived. They averted the apocalypse and tricked both Heaven and Hell. And now they can spend the rest of their days on their own side; together.

A place that Aziraphale has wanted to be for a very long time. He settles himself as Crowley sits next to him on the bench.

“So,” Crowley says in the angel’s voice, but sounding so very much like himself anyway, “D’you think they’ll leave us alone now?”

“At a guess, they’ll pretend it never happened.” Aziraphale is practically vibrating off the park bench. He’d made his promise to himself, he’s going to tell him. Just, not while he’s wearing his dear demon’s face. “Anyone looking?”

Crowley presses fingers to his temples and scans the area, Aziraphale fidgets with a ring that doesn’t exist and shoots a look skyward despite knowing he doesn’t need to any longer.

“No,” Crowley says, sounding a little distracted in his own right, as he extends a hand, “swap back then?”

They link hands and Aziraphale feels the atoms on the outer edges of his corporeal form rearrange themselves back to his usual soft and stuffy self. He shakes out the kinks just a little while Crowley cracks his neck next to him.

Aziraphale looks over at him, noting that he seems stiffer than usual. Must be the swap. Even if it was just outward appearances, it’s still rather taxing. Crowley catches him staring and reaches up to change the collar on his jacket back to red.

“A tartan collar, really?”

“Tartan is stylish!”

Crowley just rolls his eyes at him, and Aziraphale decides it’s now or never.

“Crowley, I have something I really must tell you,” he’s glad to have his own visage back, if only so the ring exists again for him to fidget with. This should be easy, but what if he’s wrong?

“Whatsit then, angel?” Crowley says, raising an eyebrow, and oh suddenly it is so very, very easy.

“I’m sure you must already know, I don’t see how you wouldn’t, I’ve never been good at hiding it, but Crowley,” Aziraphale can feel the sting of tears in the corners of his eyes. He’s heard of happy crying before, but never experienced it himself, but this feeling of release so close to saying those three simple words must be what that’s like. “Crowley, I lo-”

He doesn’t get to finish.

---

Crowley is, at best of times, a bundle of anxiety and nerves. Today was no exception.

He hadn’t been sure when the time would be to make his move, but then Aziraphale had looked at him like that and every bit of resolve he might’ve had holding him back faded away.

Aziraphale had been saying something, Crowley hadn’t really been paying attention, but suddenly it didn’t matter. All that mattered were those lips and his lips and the tears in the corners of his angel’s eyes and making them go away.

His hands were on Aziraphale’s face before he could tell them not to be, and their lips were crashing together soon after.

So now here they sit - on a park bench, lips locked together. Aziraphale is frozen stiff as a statue and suddenly Crowley has a very sharp and very real fear that he’s gone to fast again.

He breaks off and hides his face in his hands, sunglasses pushed up into his hairline, “Christ, fuck, ‘m sorry angel, shouldn’t have done that.”

“Crowley, my dear-”

“Won’t happen again, promise you that,” he just can’t stop stammering. “I mean, now you know, so if you want time or something or for me to fuck off just say the word.”

“Crowley,” Azirpahale says louder this time, gingerly touching Crowley’s wrists, “dear would you please put down your hands.”

Aziraphale wraps his fingers around Crowley’s wrists, tugging his hands away from his face. Everything is a bit blurry and Crowley realizes he’s crying.

He blinks the tears away and sees Aziraphale, smiling that bright and wonderful smile that Crowley doesn’t always get to see.

“There you are,” Aziraphale says, running a thumb along Crowley’s cheek to wipe away a tear that dared to escape it’s confines.

“Stop it,” Crowley says, trying to look away but finding himself unable, “don’t give me that look.”

“What look would that be?”

“You’re looking at me like you...you…”

“Love you?” Aziraphale asks and Crowley could swear the angel’s eyes sparkle.

“Yeah, that,” Crowley says softly as Aziraphale continues stroking his cheek, “you can’t love me. I’m a demon, twisted and unkind that’s me.”

“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale says cupping the demon’s cheek, “you couldn’t be more wrong about that if you tried.”

And then, miracle of miracles, Aziraphale leans in and kisses him. Aziraphale is actually kissing him. And he’s kissing Aziraphale back. And Aziraphale is kissing him back again and what a revelation that is.

There’s no telling how long they sit there, it’s not like either of them have to breathe. When they finally break apart, Aziraphale’s voice is barely a breath against his lips.

“I love you, Crowley, I’ve loved you for so very, very long.” Aziraphale tilts his forehead against Crowley’s and for some reason the intimacy of that is more overwhelming than the kiss they just shared. “Wily old serpent, light to my darkness, my darling, my dearest.”.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says reverently and wistfully, drunk on love and belonging, “Aziraphale, you never belonged there, you’re so much better than them. I’ll spend the rest of my days proving that to you, if you’ll let me.”

“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale says, kissing him again, “I’d like nothing better.”

“Love you, angel,” Crowley says, peppering kisses all over Aziraphale’s face, getting to hear that laugh that sounds like daybreak, “let me tempt you to lunch.”

Aziraphale laughs, full of hope and full of love, the way Crowley thinks he should always be able to laugh. “I do believe, my darling,” he says as he kisses Crowley on the nose, and it should not be as adorable or endearing as it is, “a table for two at the Ritz has just miraculously opened up.”

As they stroll through the park, hand in hand for all the world and Heaven and Hell to see, Aziraphale feels like he’s home for the first time. Here, with Crowley, finally allowing himself to bask in the glow of a love unconditional and patient. And finally Crowley can feel the love that’s been his all along; the unyielding adoration of his angel. Faintly in the distance, they can hear a nightingale singing in Berkley Square.

#link #good omens #my fic #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #hope you like it Apple!

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queerdraws · 5 years

Text

Ineffable Husbands playlist

For anyone looking for an ungodly long playlist that is probably going to be under construction forever: Here You Go

I also want to plug this playlist while im at it because I absorbed a lot of songs from it & it’s very good. much more concise FULL CURRENT TRACKLIST, 41 songs (as of 7.6.19) UNDER THE CUT Including: tally hall (an absurd amount), hozier (of course), frank sinatra, the mountain goats, sufjan stevens, queen, elbow, velvet underground, mitski...etc.

Frank Sinatra - The Best is Yet to Come

Out of the tree of life I just picked me a plum You came along and everything started in to hum Still it's a real good bet The best is yet to come

Best is yet to come and babe won't that be fine You think you've seen the sun But you ain't seen it shine

A wait til the warm up's under way Wait til our lips have met And wait til you see that sunshine day You ain't seen nothing yet ... Wait til your charms are right for these arms, to surround You think you've flown before But baby you ain't left the ground

Hozier - From Eden (obligatory)

Babe, there's something wretched about this Something so precious about this Oh what a sin

To the strand a picnic plan for you and me A rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago

Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on it's sword Innocents died screaming, honey ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

Tally Hall - You & Me

Off again we go Another seed to sow Another part to keep in proper order

What have I begun? Get away undone I have seen the signs and I ignored them

Now it's you And me Divine A circular design (do do-do do-doo) Time, and place, and mind Points along the line (do do-do do-doo)

Sitting in the park Carefully remark Everything is better when you're learning

You were in the dark And I was in the dark Everything is made to keep on turning

Barenaked Ladies - It’s All Been Done

I met you before the fall of Rome And I begged you to let me take you home You were wrong, I was right You said goodbye, I said goodnight

It's all been done It's all been done It's all been done before

I knew you before the west was won And I heard you say the past Was much more fun You go your way, I go mine But I'll see you next time

It's all been done It's all been done It's all been done before

The Strokes - Under Cover of Darkness (the times between meetings)

We got the right to live, fight to use it Got everything but you can just choose it I won't just be a puppet on a string

Don't go that way I'll wait for you

And I'm tired of all your friends Listening at your door I want what's better for you

So long, my friend and adversary But I'll wait for you

Conor Oberst - To All the Lights in the Windows (Crowley POV, Aziraphale not quite meeting him half way wrt The Arrangement. Talks about various biblical events throughout time, like they’re meeting up there)

Jesus off in the water, standing on His feet Yeah, that's the thing about charisma it makes everyone believe But there is nothing impossible When I'm with you and when you're with me I got a sad sinking feeling that, that can never be

But I'm going to do what I can for you, I will make a plea To all the lights in the windows, the puddles in the streets And all the lovers that you've been teasing from your balcony May they carry you far from my memory

Light a Roman Candle with Me (Crowley POV)

Light a roman candle with me Just a roman candle, you can wear your sandals And I'll pour you just one cup of tea. Then you can go and rest You haven't seen my best, so

Just spend an evening with me Just a lazy evening, then you could be leaving Or we could stay and talk until three. I will think it's magic and I'll hope you'll agree, so

Light a roman candle with me. Just a roman candle. Just a perfect apple.

If we were honest and both wrote a sonnet together A sandwich with everything on it, At least we would know that the sparks didn't glow But we owe it to ourselves to try, So we aim and ignite! So often I call and I plead with you: "Give me a chance!" It's not often that I understand The ins and the outs of what's wrong and what's right So don't think of tomorrow tonight.

Oh, I know, it goes on, it gets old But for now we're young, we smell good, we're alone

You look for a legend, I'm looking for common ground. Your heart isn't breaking, And mine isn't making a sound.

Oh I know, it goes on, it gets old Oh I know, it goes on, it gets old

Light a roman candle with me. Just a roman candle. Just a perfect apple.

Tears for Fears - Head Over Heels (mmm pining)

You keep your distance with a system of touch And gentle persuasion I'm lost in admiration, could I need you this much? Oh, you're wasting my time You're just, just, just wasting time

Something happens and I'm head over heels I never find out till I'm head over heels Something happens and I'm head over heels Ah, don't take my heart, don't break my heart Don't, don't, don't throw it away

Throw it away Throw it away

Mother Mother - Problems

You and me, we're not the same I am a sinner, you are a saint When we get to the pearly gates You'll get the green light I'll get the old door in the face

Doo, doo, doo I'm a loser, a disgrace, yeah

I've found love in the strangest place Tied up and branded, locked in a cage I say I'm gonna stage a great escape Let loose and love all But baby we're out of place

Doo, doo, doo I'm a loser, a disgrace You're a beauty A luminary, in my face

I got it all, and not a lot, I got a lot less than a lot I've got problems, not just the ones that are little It's those people problems, it's something to consider When you come for dinner at my place

The Mountain Goats - New Zion (sort of a flashback to the garden, i don’t like to put really mellow songs at the very beginning of playlists so this was the best place i could fit this one in)

There were signs up in the sky When we gathered by the garden wall Everybody on his best behavior Listening for the altar call

High priest of Salem in his robes Ranting of the coming of the day Ravens at the gates Frightening all the visitors away

I lay down by the water Dreamed a dream of where I come from Old things made new Waiting for you

There were wooden wind chimes rustling In the trees above the anthills on the dunes On the high winds, we could hear them Old familiar tunes

The little bit of faith we had once Like the memory of a movie They got burned up in the great fire Reassembling itself slowly by surely

I lay down by the water Dreamed a dream of where I come from Old things made new Waiting for you

Tally Hall - Who You Are (Aziraphale POV)

Maybe there's something to being the one who you are Holding the thoughts in as you pull away in your car I get to thinking a little too often & All that I want is a little aloft & Maybe it's all too much thinking and not enough heart

How is it all of the people can know who you are? Off in the distance emitting a glow in the dark All of it subtle and all of it very bizarre How is it all of the people can know who you are? I see you Not too far

Armed to the teeth You will sit at the fireside We are the ones who have chosen the other side It was easy to see You were ready to be And it all falls down

You rose up and rode away underground Alone us finding our way to found

Catfish and the Bottlemen - Longshot

Go, ahead and tell me you got all you want Fiver says you're wrong And I suppose you've come down to help me Move things along ... Listen, the distance between us, could've took a while Once we closed that difference, you turned up like a friend of mine Every once in a while, the little things make me smile As if one of our longshots paid off One of our longshots paid off

So yeah, go, ahead and tell me something real Come on, how'd you feel? And I suppose you've come down to help me Answer to the riddle To the riddle

Why we laughed it off and we're wise enough, who knows?

Queen - You’re My Best Friend (obligatory)

Oh, you're the best friend that I ever had I've been with you such a long time You're my sunshine and I want you to know That my feelings are true I really love you Oh, you're my best friend

Ooh, you make me live

Ooh, I've been wandering 'round But I still come back to you In rain or shine

Apples in Stereo - Baroque

In the moonlight I see my memories In a new light, they seem so real to me I remember You know I remember And the starlight tripping in the sky Come on, we can still go there tonight I remember You know I remember We haven't changed We just feel a little strange We haven't changed We're just a little bit deranged

Umphrey’s McGee - Made to Measure (Crowley POV, “’you go too fast for me???’ what’s that supposed to mean??”)

Please excuse this I know it's rude But I was just trying to satisfy someone who requested mine You're hard to please And no one knows just what you need If you won't ever ask for help then how am I to tell? Uncomfortable You wear it well The sooner that you come around, the offer's waited to be found Anytime you need it I am already there and waiting What's yours is mine but you’re inclined to hesitate to try Don't get me wrong here I just want to make my intentions clear There's no room for reading into deep, if things aren't written down As soon as I've been told That you will not be sold Then we could all move forward here, and find our endings well You need a break It's hard to take the time When things will just move faster and we're never ever slowing down Anytime you need it I'm already there and waiting What's yours is mine but you’re inclined to hesitate to try And after all the bullshit shuffled, piles up inside There's only room for you and me And what we've left to try

Hayley Kiyoko - What I Need (”I’m going to alpha centauri and I won’t even THINK about you!”)

All the back and forth getting complicated Running me around got me frustrated No, that's why I been laying low If you wanna make it work, baby, gotta say it Need a little more than participation Oh, I could go be on my own ... What I need, what I need, what I need Is for you to be sure

The Mountain Goats - San Bernardino (Az POV, unsure of timeline placement on this one but it’s very tender)

We got in your car and we hit the highway Eastern sun was rising over the mountains Yellow and blood-red bits Like a kaleidoscope

And flaming swords may guard the garden of Eden But we consulted maps from earlier days Dead languages on our tongues Holding onto our last hope

And the day was bright and fine And the highway sign Said "San Bernardino Welcomes you!"

I checked us into our motel and filled the bathtub And you got in the warm, warm water I pulled petals from my pocket I loved you so much just then

Sufjan Stevens - To Be Alone with You (another tender, possibly Az POV song)

I'd swim across Lake Michigan I'd sell my shoes I'd give my body to be back again In the rest of the room

To be alone with you To be alone with you To be alone with you To be alone with you

You gave your body to the lonely They took your clothes You gave up a wife and a family You gave your goals

To be alone with me To be alone with me To be alone with me You went up on a tree

To be alone with me you went up on the tree

I've never known a man who loved me

Elbow - Starlings (Crowley POV)

How dare the premier ignore my invitations? He'll have to go So too the bunch he luncheons with It's second on my list of things to do

At the top I'm stopping by Your place of work and acting like I haven't dreamed of you and I And marriage in an orange grove

You are the only thing In any room you're ever in I'm stubborn, selfish and too old

I sat you down and told you how The truest love that's ever found is for oneself You pulled apart my theory With a weary and disinterested sigh

So yes, I guess I'm asking you To back a horse that's good for glue and nothing else But find a man that's truer than Find a man that needs you more than I

Sit with me a while And let me listen to you talk about Your dreams and your obsessions I'll be quiet and confessional

The violets explode inside me When I meet your eyes Then I'm spinning and I'm diving Like a cloud of starlings Darling, is this love?

The Cure - Why Can’t I Be You?

You're so gorgeous I'll do anything I'll kiss you from your feet to where your head begins You're so perfect you're so right as rain You make me Make me, make me, make me hungry again

Everything you do is irresistible Everything you do is simply kissable Why can't I be you? ... Everything you do is simply delicate Everything you do is quite angelicate Why can't I be you? Why can't I be you?

Hozier - It Will Come Back (Crowley POV, don’t be kind to me i’ll get attached oh shit oh shit it already happened aughh)

I know who I am when I'm alone Something else when I see you You don't understand, you should never know How easy you are to need

Don't let me in with with no intention to keep me Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me Honey don't feed me I will come back

Can't be unlearned I've known the warmth of your doorways Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you Oh please, give me mercy no more That's a kindness you can't avoid! I want you baby tonight, as sure as you're born

You'll hear me howling outside your door Don't you hear me howling babe?

The Mountain Goats - So Desperate (Az POV)

We were parked in your car In our neutral meeting place, the Episcopalian churchyard I had things I'd been meaning to say But in the dazzling winter sun that late, I could feel them melt away

And through the warm radio static I couldn't hear my stage directions And the fog on the windshield Obscured our sad reflections

I felt so desperate In your arms I felt so desperate In your arms

We were parked near some trees And the moonlight soaked the branches in ever deepening degrees Had my hand in your hair Trying to keep my cool until it became too much to bear

When we cracked the windows open Well, the air was just so sweet We could hear the cars ten feet away Out there in the street

I felt so desperate In your arms I felt so desperate In your arms

Velvet Underground - I’ll Be Your Mirror

When you think the night has seen your mind That inside you're twisted and unkind Let me stand to show that you are blind Please put down your hands 'Cause I see you

Mitski - Strawberry Blonde (pining)

I love everybody Because I love you I don't need the city, and I Don't need proof All I need, darling Is a life in your shape I picture it, soft And I ache

Ok Go - Last Leaf (Crowley POV, i will go as slow as you need me to)

If you should be the last Autumn leaf hanging from the tree I'll still be here waiting on the breeze to bring you down to me

And if it takes forever Forever it'll be And if it takes forever Forever it'll be

And if you should be the last seed in Spring to venture forth a leaf I'll still be here waiting on the rain to warm your heart for me

And if it takes forever Forever it'll be And if it takes forever Forever it'll be

Coldplay - Til Kingdom Come

Hold my head inside your hands I need someone who understands I need someone, someone who hears For you, I've waited all these years

For you I'd wait 'til kingdom come Until my day, my day is done And say you'll come and set me free Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me

In your tears and in your blood In your fire and in your flood I hear you laugh, I heard you sing I wouldn't change a single thing

And the wheels just keep on turning The drummers begin to drum I don't know which way I'm going I don't know what I'll become

White Lies - A Place to Hide (mixed POV, apocalypse starts)

I've been searching through my books to try and find some truth Perhaps disguised as a mysterious way And if I made a promise Could I stay by your side? Would you guarantee my safety And say that I'd be all right?

But if Judgment Day started tonight at least I'd know I was right And I'd be laughing at the end of the world Take my hand tonight I'll think we'll be alright, girl

And I can see it on the TV, there's an air attack People of the mountains screaming I'll be back And I'm banging on your door so come on and let me in Need a place to hide, I need a place to hide before the storm begins

If I told you all the times when I'd done wrong Could you bathe my soul and wash it all away? I can't forgive the things that I can still remember So I think my friendly sins are here to stay

New Pornographers - Adventures in Solitude (Somebody killed my best friend)

Balancing on one wounded wing Circling the edge of the never ending The best of the vanished marvels Have gathered inside your door

More than begin but less than forget But spirits born from the not happened yet Gathering there to pay off a debt Brought back from the wars

We thought, we lost you We thought, we lost you We thought, we lost you Welcome back ... I know you want to run far away From one more and that it's comin' at a bad time Some cold place heartless ways for all we know

I know you need to breathe through Come back, come too but it's comin' at a bad time Tangled day, for all we know

I know you want to run far away from one more And that's comin' at a bad time Some cold race heartless ways for all we know

I know you want to breathe through Come back, come too but it's comin' at a bad time Old scarred face survivor's guilt, for all we know

Snow Patrol - The Lightning Strike (What if This Storm Ends?) (Crowley POV, you’re back! oh god i could’ve lost you forever.)

What if this storm ends? And I don't see you As you are now Ever again

The perfect halo Of gold hair and lightning Sets you off against The planet's last dance

Just for a minute The silver forked sky Lit you up like a star That I will follow

Now it's found us Like I have found you I don't want to run Just overwhelm me

What if this storm ends? And leaves us nothing Except a memory A distant echo

I want pinned down I want unsettled Rattle cage after cage Until my blood boils

I want to see you As you are now Every single day That I am living

Painted in flames All peeling thunder Be the lightning in me That strikes relentless

Grandaddy - A.M. 180 (the apocalypse is over. please still hang out with me? we can do anything, no need for serious plans. whatever together.)

Don't change your name Keep it the same For fear I may lose you again I know you won't It's just that I am unorganized And I want to find you when Something good happens

If you come down We'll go to town I haven't been there for years But I'd be fine Wasting our time Not doing anything here Just doing nothing

We'll sit for days And talk about things Important to us like whatever We'll defuse bombs Walk marathons And take home whatever together

Whatever together

My Chemical Romance - The Only Hope for Me is You (okay maybe we have a little trauma abt the apocalypse, anyway i love you?)

Where were you when All of the embers fell I still remember there Covered in ash Covered in glass Covered in all my friends I still Think of the bombs they built

If that's the best that I could be? Than I'd be another memory Can I be the only hope for you? Because you're the only hope for me And if we can't find where we belong, We'll have to make it on our own Face all the pain and take it on Because the only hope for me is you alone

How it should you be Many years after the disasters that we've seen What we have learned Other than people burn in purifying flame

I say it's okay I know you can tell And though you can see me smile I still Think of the guns they sell

Delta Spirit - Yamaha (Az POV, I’m sorry about the wait, I love you too)

I've been alone too many nights Too proud to tell you when you're right A little patience would have helped me then A lot like the break has been the common standard All the angels above the earth I prayed Said this message right into her head There's certain things in life I cannot take And I will wait

I hope you know I care I hope you know I care

So cold, I know you can't believe it Sometimes you gotta face the feelin' You don't care if you don't get up again There's a thousand things I will not understand (I hope you know I care) Now you're dealin' with the hell I put you through If I had my way I would be right there next to you There's certain things in life you cannot change There's certain things

I hope you know I care

Tally Hall - The Whole World and You (Crowley POV?)

There's lots of pretty people here Sharing soltries and passing letters and

There's lots of questions answered and Metaphysical astronomical songs

Words printed all on papers That seemed too mystical It's so magical

People that dance and compute that No one's better then you ... I hope you're happy now I've revealed the truth I've even written this whole song about you And not about me And not about me

Please don't just laugh and clap right now This is serious I'm not delirious

I've waited very patiently Just to let you know Who should run the show

Cause we all know these are the facts Nothing to retract Nothing too abstract

Concluding in the song I'll say No one's better than you

Ashley Eriksson - Island Song (South Downs cottage)

Come along with me To a town beside the sea We can wander through the forest And do so as we please Come along with me To a cliff under a tree Where we'll gaze upon the water As an everlasting dream All of my affections I give them all to you Maybe by next summer We won't have changed our tune I still want to be In this town beside the sea Making up new numbers And living so merrily All of my affections I give them all to you I'll be here for you always And always be for you Come along with me To a town beside the sea We can wander through the forest And do so as we please Living so merrily

The Mountain Goats - Genesis 30:3

I remember seeing you, my tongue struck dumb When you first came here from wherever it was you came from The power in your voice, your rough touch You keeping care of me, keeping watch ... For several hours we lay there, last ones of our kind Harder days coming, maybe I don't mind Sounds kind of dumb when I say it, but it's true I would do anything for you

Open up the promise of the day Drive the dark things away I will do what you ask me to do Because of how I feel about you

The Civil Wars - C’est La Mort (stay with me forever?)

Swan dive down eleven stories high Hold your breath until you see the light You can sink to the bottom of the sea Just don't go without me

Go get lost where no one can be found Drink so long and deep until you drown Say your goodbyes but darling if you please Don't go without me

C'est la vie C'est la mort You and me Forevermore

Let's walk down the road that has no end Steal away where only angels tread Heaven or hell or somewhere in between Cross your heart to take me when you leave Don't go, please don't go Don't go without me

The Magnetic Fields - When my Boy Walks Down the Street

Grand pianos crash together when my boy walks down the street There are whole new kinds of weather when he walks with his new beat Everyone sings hallelujah when my boy walks down the street Life just kind of dances through ya from your smile down to your feet

Amazing he's a whole new form of life Blue eyes blazing and he's going to be my wife

Sufjan Stevens - With My Whole Heart

And you're all I want (I fell in love, I fell in love the moment that I met you) And you're all I need (I give my life, I give my love, promise I will protect you) And you're all I've got (I will not rest until I know the best is always with you) And I still believe (I confess the world's a mess but I will always love you)

Tally Hall (edu) - Nowhere Else

There’s nowhere else I’d rather be Than in this moment you and me No place else I’d rather go No one else I’d rather know ... When the daylight turns to dusk Our energy a cosmic dust Trust with that in which you feel Love til the end ... love the lost and love the loved live below and love above love the earth and love the trees love those who give their lives for peace love all you call your family love you found a place to be love the ones with whom you fight love the ones who spend the night love the rich and love the poor love for want and want for more love the smile and simple things like those who want to live to sing love the ghost of what has passed love the trying till the last love the sick and love the strong love all who'll learn to get along

Frank Sinatra - I’ve Got a Crush on You

I'm your big and brave and handsome Romeo How I won you I shall never never know It's not that you're attractive But, oh, my heart grew active When you came into view I've got a crush on you, sweetie pie All the day and night-time hear me sigh I never had the least notion that I could fall with so much emotion

Could you coo, could you care For a cunning cottage we could share The world will pardon my mush 'Cause I have got a crush on you

Miracle Musical - Dream Sweet in Sea Major

Children born of one emotion Our devotion's deepest ocean No division reasoned we'll be Free

To know We are beyond a bow And lo, the hues arrange to show It's perfectly clear

You look quite divine tonight Here among these vibrant lights Pure delights surround us as we sail Signed, yours truly, the whale

Joy mirage's kingdom come No one left at stake Now that existence is on the wake Let's see what we can make

Apart is wholly ending A line in any final song So long so far

We will be atoning At last eternal through the past Above a blinding star

#playlist #ineffable husbands #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #i listen to it while drawing and reading fic so the goal is for it to be as long as possible #ive already added more songs to this as of 7.17.2019 #don't expect this to be a stable playlist lol

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incorrigible-groupie · 5 years

Text

why the "I lost my best friend" scene in Good Omens is the worst

(For four reasons)

Number one ! Someone on Twitter said that the last time Aziraphale was on the phone with Crowley, Crow said that he was with an old friend. So Az thought Crow was talking about someone else when he said « best friend ». Dumbass.

Number two ! That’s something I realized on my own, but when Az is in front of Crow - and let’s not talk about the fact that the only place, THE ONLY PLACE where he materialize is next to Crow, you know, like this is where he belongs… - when he is in front of Crow, he actually can’t see him. He is totally blind, go watch it again if you don’t believe me. So not only he doesn’t know Crow thinks he is his best friend. But even if one day he finds out, he will never know how much devastated Crow was, because he didn’t see him. AH.

Number three ! Does Crow see him, or does he just feel him ? Actually ? Like, Az can’t see Crow and Crow can’t see Az too ? It could make sense, that Crowley can’t see how Aziraphale was disappointed by the fact that he wasn’t his best friend, I mean he would have say something otherwise ! You know, being the annoying demon he is.

Also, Crow seemed surprised when Az stopped to talk to him, like he didn’t expect him to disappear, while we saw clearly that Az was dissolving… like Peter Parker after the Snap!

The fact that we could see it doesn’t mean that THEY could see it.

I have a theory that, we see Crowley as David Tennant and Aziraphale as Michael Sheen because we want to see them that way. The same reason why we hear them speaking english… why would they speak english, of all languages, is God British too? That would also explain why in 6000 years no one in the universe said « hey, they looked like someone I saw on a painting, or an old photograph ! » I mean technically Az and Crow don’t have faces they’re an angel and a demon, you really want to know how they looked like in the Bible ? Don’t. It’s actually terrifying. So maybe some people see them as women, some people see them as men or women of color. The only thing that never disappear is their… mark that represent them, you know like the snake or the golden stripes like… I wonder what is Aziraphale’s mark. Could be his blue eyes (you know like the Velvet Underground song) or his white hair, I mean he never change his haircut !

He never change his haircut... I think that’s most because, well angels and demons are not supposed to look like humans. The best thing about humanity, the thing that Aziraphale and Crowley adore, is this capacity to evolve. But when you’re an angel or a demon you can’t evolve, you have one job to do, one place to go, one thing to deal with for all eternityyyyyyy. BUT Crowley doesn’t give a damn about it, so you can clearly see that he evolves with the humans by watching his haircut, and Aziraphale is WAY to scared to do that. Because the angels are bitches with him, pushing him on the wall, probably even strangling him with his bow tie. (Let’s not talk about the fact that when it’s Crowley he trusts him so much that he’s not even scared, not even if he’s traumatized. OH MY GOSH.)

Anyway, about their appearance, Crowley and Aziraphale recognized themselves maybe because they just feel each other ? How would Aziraphale know Crowley was still demon otherwise ? You know, before the oysters thingy. Az knew Crow was still a demon but the other demons didn’t realize during the trial that it wasn’t Crowley, WHAT KIND OF COLLEGUES ARE THEY ???

(((By the way, the whole swapping moment, unbelievable. Every details the actors put on their way to play those character, with such love it’s… DAMN. Thank you so much whoever had the idea to put David and Michael together. I knew David thanks to Doctor Who and Jessica Jones (great season 1 and loved season 3), but I discovered Michael thanks to Good Omens. He is such a great actor and… I’m actually watching Masters Of Sex, a nice show by the way it’s like Sex Education but much mature, and way sadder. Like Michael Sheen is Otis, and Lizzy Caplan is Maeve, kinda. I watch Masters Of Sex, and I’m ace ! WHAT THE HECK ?? What was I talking about again ?)))

Number four ! I really, truly believe that Az and Crow think they are friends, BUT. That’s because they didn’t experience love the same way as we, humans, does.

What is love ? Baby don’t hurt me SORRY

But seriously who was the first one who loved Az and Crow « unconditionally » ? Yeah I’m talking about the Big One. Which I think is gender fluid, you can’t mess up that much while being a woman. Also Big One Almighty have a «woman» voice but it’s okay to call Them Lord ? Also okay to say They are Jesus’ Father ?

Oh yeah and let’s talk about Jesus, because it was a big deal for the angel and the demon. So the Almighty, their Creator, their Dad/Mum, Who should forgive everyone, smashed angels into the ground so they became demons, drown an entire civilization because They weren’t happy about it, let Their own son, Their own son, die ! If this is really the definition of love, then love is an abusive bullshit. Aziraphale is with the angels, who are supposed to be good so probably full of love, a love they like to demonstrate while choking him. And Crowley, Crowley… I really think he is sad about Jesus’ death like, it pushed him on his limits. After Jesus died, he cut his gorgeous hair for the first time, he began to be bitter with Aziraphale, he didn’t even search for Aziraphale ! I’m sure Crowley adored Jesus and it was like « well if even a demon can melt for that little fellow the Almighty must be so full of love for him » and then he was nailed on a cross ! I’m sure J stands for Jesus, and like do you know what are the initials of Anthony J Crowley ? AJC ! Like After Jesus Christ ! Am I going to far ! YES OBVIOUSLY !

All I’m saying is… Letting your son to suffer ? And to die ? Is that love ? Is that what Crowley is supposed to feel for Aziraphale ? Is that what Aziraphale think about Crowley ? Heck no. So they definitely are not lovers. Soul mate ? I saw that some people think Aziraphale and Crowley were one single soul before the fall, which is kinda true because in the first version of the Book by Pratchett and Gaiman there was only one demon. And after the fall their soul might have been split in two, one being Crowley and the other being Aziraphale and… they’re always together because they only feel complete when they have each other. Which is cute. But I don’t really like the fact that they aren’t their own soul, I don’t know. I don’t like the fact that they aren’t their own individuals. Also it doesn’t explain why Az didn’t even know what was Crow’s name while Crowley knew that Aziraphale had the flaming sword AHA.

(((Oh! Some people think that Az is War’s dad, because he gave the first weapon to humanity and I’m like… YES ! And Crow gave people knowledge and free will and to have free will is to have the right to not fight, so to make peace so in a way Crowley created Peace ? Does that make sense ?)))

My point is Az and Crow are really bad at their job because that’s all it is, begin a demon or an angel at the end, it’s a job. Gabriel, Belzebuth, they’re not doing it by conviction, they’re doing it because they think they were told to do so. Well, they have the conviction that they are following a Plan but you know, like okay so we’re on this side, the enemy is on the other side but it’s just like chess there are black pawns and there are white pawns. You just have to win.

And they all follow God’s Plan ? Which is weird because demons shouldn’t follow God’s Plan right ???? Does Lucifer was like « oh yeah let’s please the Big One by creating the being who can provoke the Apocalypse what do you mean I’m a rebel ? ». Lucifer didn’t look like Tom Ellis either, by the way. Maybe, you know, in American Gods way, the fact that we believe so much that Lucifer is a monster he became one, just like the fact that Adam believe Lucifer isn’t his dad made him… not his dad.

The power of Faith humans have.

I don’t think that it was a test for humans, like yeah the Antechrist who was raised by humans decided that Earth was worth saving kinda mean we won because there is still hope for us can i hear a yahoo…

But actually I think that God, as messed up as They may be, is the biggest shipper of us all.

I think the all Apocalypse thing was a test for Aziraphale and Crowley. To show their true nature.

Like I said before, they sucked at their job. Which is what make them lovable. God probably knew and God probably wanted them to be free, free of Heaven and Hell because the Apocalypse was their limit. All the other missions they did on Earth were obsolete compare to that, so all they could do was to raise their voice this time like « no freaking way we don’t want to do this mission ». If God didn’t mess with the delivery of the baby, you know the exchange and all that stuff, none of this would have happened. Az and Crow had been together for 6000 years but this mission ? This mission showed them how much they want to stay on earth, and why, and yes of course one of the reasons is so they could be together pffff…

You know, if they didn’t have the opportunity to scare the angels and the demons so they should leave them alone (during the trial), their relationship surely wouldn’t have grown that much. Having lunch to the Ritz was a big step. They wanted SO MUCH to be together, and only their status was keeping them appart. I read a theory that the main reason why Crow hated to be called «nice», when it didn’t bother him before, was because being nice is something Az love about Crow. He doesn’t care that he shouldn’t be nice, clearly he doesn’t care what the demons think of him, he’s even prepared in case they try to kill him. (YOU KNOW THE KIND OF THINGS YOU DO BETWEEN COLLEGUES !) But Az does care about what his colleagues think because he is scared of them and so he can’t love a demon, even if that demon is nice. So, when Az calls Crowley «nice», it reminds of Crowley that not only Aziraphale likes him, but also that he shouldn’t be and that’s the reason why Aziraphale can’t be with him.

But now that they’re both free, Aziraphale can call Crowley « kind » and Crowley can imagine a future with Aziraphale, they can have a relationship. They can kiss, or not, if that’s not what they are into. Aziraphale could have a beard and no bow tie to be choke with. Crowley could have his snake eyes less obvious, his snake tattoo smaller.

With a bookshop full of plants.

And maybe one day they will realize that love isn’t something that should be abusive or maybe they will find another human word that describe their relationship. But until then there’s no word to describe how much they are connected to each other.

It’s simply… ineffable.

#good omens #theories #aziraphale #crowley #oh dang this text is so long i'm sorry guys

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enchantedchocolatebars · 5 years

Text

Good Omens Chibi Headcanons Part 2

Headcanons for if Crowley had his own little chibi. (Got inspired by cute chibi fanarts I saw on here made by artists with the usernames asunnydisposish and kimmigawa.) THANK YOU TO @luna-sheep FOR READING THIS FOR ME!👍

Part1: https://enchantedchocolatebars.tumblr.com/post/186828312632/good-omens-chibi-headcanons-part-1

Part3: https://enchantedchocolatebars.tumblr.com/post/187062920297/good-omens-chibi-headcanons-part-3

Chibi Crowley:

• Okay, so imagine Crowley, right? Only he's alot smaller, cuter, a bit mischievous and hyper, oh and is 10 times more dramatic. That's basically Chibi Crowley in a nutshell.

• Chibi Crowley thinks Crowley is the greatest and coolest thing ever!

• He looks up to him almost as a role model figure.

• Because he sees him as a role model, Chibi Crowley will try and emulate almost everything Crowley does. (Yes, that includes his walk.)

• Likes that he's allowed to sit in the front of the Bentley whenever he and Crowley go somewhere so as long as he agrees to buckle up.

• Speaking of the black car, Chibi Crowley sees and treats the Bentley as a person and friend. It was just such a great car to him! He loves how Bent (yes he gave it the nickname Bent) is able to take him and Crowley wherever they need to go with style and speed!

• When it's parked, Chibi Crowley likes to hop on top of the hood of the car and pretends as though he's really driving it, making car driving sound affects and all.

• Is an excited, squealing happy laughing mess when Crowley does 90 miles per hour in Central London. The little guy just LOVES it when his big counterpart goes fast! He also loves it when Crowley speeds past other cars because he always thought that he and Crowley were in some sort a race and they were the ones who were winning! He'd go up to the window and make silly faces at drivers as if saying "Na-na na boo-boo! You can't beat us!"

• If Crowley is in the mood, I can see the two of them going on alot of small little road trips together.

• Probably one of Chibi Crowley's favorite things to do with Crowley when they're driving around in the Bentley is lip sync to his best of Queen tape. It's a fun, goofy platonic bonding experience for the both of them. And trust me, when they lip sync together in the car to Queen, they are so EXTRA about it. They even go as far as making up their own little choreographed dance for some songs. Is the dancing good? Not really, it's actually quite dorky, but hey they're having fun being dorks so it doesn't really matter.

• Their drama queen meters rise up incredibly high when Bohemian Rhapsody starts playing. The passion and extraness they put into the lip syncing is too funny.

• When the music ends, the two can't help but laugh at themselves. Crowley will ask Chibi Crowley if he would like to do it again for a 12th time, to which he replies by shaking his head yes.

• The tiny demon really likes it when Crowley shows off his more fun side in the car. He's glad to have a goofy, cool snake friend like him.

•Their little road trips would usually end the same way, Crowley would be driving at night heading back to his apartment and Chibi Crowley would be in the passenger seat sleeping. On the radio, the song that would be playing is "Pale Blue Eyes" by Velvet Underground. (https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=KisHhIRihMY) It was one of Crowley's favorites, and the slow, calming music was used as a way to keep Chibi Crowley asleep until they got back to the flat.

• Chibi Crowley loves being roommates with Crowley!

• As soon as Crowley would arrive home, you'll see Chibi Crowley in his snake form quickly slither over to the other demon in an excited manner as Crowley opens up his hand for the little snake to crawl on and the chibi would go straight to biting his finger. He'd be all like "om nom nom!" It was his strange way of saying 'hello, hi, yes, I missed you, welcome back home.' Since the biting didn't really hurt him due to Chibi Crowley being the size of a tiny baby snake, Crowley didn't mind. He found it to be endearing in a way.

• Chibi Crowley absolutely adores gummy snakes candy! He loved the sweet, chewy taste they had! His favorite part had to be their heads. He just loved biting their little heads right off! Crowley got a kick out of tempting and enticing his chibi with them. The serpant shaped gummies were also a great way to keep Chibi Crowley occupied while he was away.

• When the houseplants heard the news that there was another demon living in the flat, they were beyond terrified! One demon was already a challenge, BUT TWO?! Just the thought made them shiver in fear. As the plants prepared themselves to meet the EVIL, TERRIFYING, fiend, they see him and...oh. He...wasn't as they imagined him to be. He was...rather small. Tiny even. And...REALLY CUTE! The plants all thought that Chibi Crowley was the cutest, wittle munchkin ever! The little demon had a problem with that though. He didn't want the plants to find him cute, he wanted them to fear him just like they did Crowley. Time to put the fear of Crowley - or rather the fear of Chibi Crowley - into them. And that meant being mean. He'd constantly glare and hiss at them and even yelled at them in chibi gibberish to 'grow better!' But, despite all that, the plants only found him to be even more cute, which irritated him.

• Him and Crowley visit a reptile museum together! (Mainly to observe and check out all the cool looking snakes there.)

•While there, Chibi Crowley somehow finds a way inside one of the big snake vivariums and is amazed by all the different types of snakes he sees in there!

• The snakes don't really react to seeing Chibi Crowley. They just continue doing what they usually do. The reason for their lack of response is because in their brains they're saying 'it's just another snake but...with legs, hair, and sunglasses??? Huh...odd.'

• Chibi Crowley starts happily petting the snakes. Wow, they feel smoooth~

• He's having a sticking out your tongue contest with a brown snake.

• The chibi demon even decides to sit on top of the back of a green emerald tree boa. He gives the snake a loving hug but it doesn't react to the affection at all. It instead slithers about, giving Chibi Crowley a sorta piggyback ride.

• Chibi Crowley goes full serpent and is at one with the snakes. Aaa he loves them all! The tiny red head wishes Crowley would allow him to take the snakes back home to the apartment with them so that the snakes could become his new pets.

• Him and Crowley both have fun scaring annoying people using their shape shifting powers.

• Crowley gets for him a tiny miniature wine glass so that he had something to drink wine out of.🍷

• Crowley also gets a remote controlled 1934 black Bentley toy car for his chibi as a little demonic gift. The car looked almost identical to his. Chibi Crowley's reaction to it is that of a young child who had just received the present they've been asking for all year on Christmas, which meant lots of over-the-top excited squealing and constantly saying thank you really fast. Finally, Chibi Crowley will get to sit in the driver's seat and drive for once! He gets inside the vehicle and Crowley uses the controller to accelerate the car. It began zooming around all over the place! Chibi Crowley loved his sweet new ride!

• Chibi Crowley plans on taking Chibi Aziraphale on a drive with him someday in the toy car.

• Chibi Crowley and Crowley's relationship is a mix of a cute close friendship and a sorta almost father and son dynamic/bond.

• Just like Chibi Aziraphale's feelings towards Aziraphale, Chibi Crowley liked Crowley alot and was glad that the both of them were friends, but he too was slightly envious of his bigger counterpart as well. Crowley didn't have to worry about getting stepped on, he could have all the wine he wanted, he's able to hold the green plastic plant mister and mist the plants, and best of all he got to drive the Bentley wherever he wanted whenever he wanted. It wasn't fair! How dare that snake be big enough to do all those cool things! (Again, it's meant to be a cute jealously. Chibi Crowley still loves him!)

#good omens #crowley #chibi au #live action shows #headcanons #writing #my writing #not a cartoon

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goblin-gardens · 5 years

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okay so teddy I have a Question that I was wondering if you could weigh in on- do you think Crowley and Aziraphale were out of character in the show when compared with the book? I’ve been quite distressed over the portrayal of Crowley in particular for reasons I cannot discern, and I was wondering if it’s maybe just me? Blease grace me with your wisdom.

I definitely agree that they were a little bit different in the show, and while there were choices that I wasn’t thrilled with, I also think the difference was unavoidable for a few reasons:

1 reason is it’s a modern adaptation of a book that’s almost 30 years old. Good Omens the book is old enough to have its own children, and that’s sort of what the show is in a way? It’s a descendant, not a clone. And it’s specifically a descendant filtered through Neil Gaiman’s lens. As much as he might honor PTerry’s memory and the book they wrote together, he was the only one of them working on this show.

but 2, so were a fuckton of other people. Creating a show requires cooperation from roughly a billion more separate moving parts than writing a book, even a book with two authors. There were script editors making the dialogue flow better when spoken and principle photographers making the calls on how scenes could or couldn’t be filmed, and there were producers to appease, and the entire team of hardworking professionals doing their best, and of course....

3, the reason I (and I’ll project and say you) found Crowley just a liiiitle bit different from the book: Mr. David John McDonald Tennant. (a/n: I’m not saying he did a bad job) There’s a post out there about how DT takes all his characters and makes them a little bit slutty? Exactly that but really they’re all a little bit him. He’s achieved icon status, and it shows. A less-criminal version of the Johnny Depp Character Syndrome. Crowley had a little bit of Ten in him, and Ten had a little bit Benedick from that great version of Much Ado he did in 2011 with Catherine Tate (WATCH THAT SHIT). Is it the hips? Is it the way he can’t wear a wig to save his life? Whatever it is, it’s undeniably a Davy T Character, and while I enjoyed his performance, book Crowley was not that.

This is the danger of remakes. They get remade. And 2019 Omens has the extra little side effect of Neil Gaiman making it and then talking about it on Tumblr to fans who message him and give me heart attacks because have they never? Heard? Of Interview??

Anyways, this might not be much of a consolation, Nonny, but it’s what I’ve got. I think Crowley’s too Tennanty. For that matter, Aziraphale is a little too Sheeny. This would have happened with any actors cast, but Sheen’s more of a chameleon (and better at depicting queer characters). Tennat’s TENant-ness stands out-- not like a sore thumb, but like one of those rubber finger condoms you put over a cut when you’re working food service (I swear to gd that’s what they’re called). Like a just-barely-off wig. Like his hipbones.

He is different, you’re not alone in thinking that, and you’re not alone in being distressed. And, not to be trite, but your feelings are valid!! This book has meant a lot to a lot of people, and we all build our own visions of the text. When someone else’s vision-- even the original author’s-- clashes with that, it’s tough! But that’s never stopped us before. We are fandom! We laugh in the face of canon! But seriously Nonny, know this: Your Crowley is just as real as Neil’s, and just as real as David’s. Art doesn’t exist without an audience to interact with it. The differences stand out to you because they matter to you, and that’s a good thing.

Put the Velvet Underground cd of the show into the Bentley of your fandom, and wait a couple weeks-- it won’t be bebop forever. Track down some fic recs, listen to some playlists, and choose the parts that make you happy. <3

#Anonymous #good omens #it's 12:28 and i'm verbose and sappy #goodnight #i also posted this partway through writing it so sorry to anyone who read the unfinished version #this is all of it now #long post

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ciaosucker-a · 5 years

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You know which ship

thank u for my life, personals don’t reblog. reblog and i’ll stomp you to death with my fucking hooves.

WHO HOGS THE DUVET

crowley. crowley is always cold and even when they’re cuddled up to aziraphale, they’re still freezing. ( i don’t think azi would mind much, though. )

WHO TEXTS/RINGS TO CHECK HOW THEIR DAY IS GOING

i feel like they both would. esp. after the stopped apocalypse and their meetings with heaven and hell. they would just check in with each other, make sure the other is doing okay.

WHO’S THE MOST CREATIVE WHEN IT COMES TO GIFTS

crowley would be the worst, they’d just wrap it and shove it into aziraphale’s hands, turn away and blush. aziraphale would definitely take the time to wrap it neatly, write a card and surprise crowley with it.

WHO GETS UP FIRST IN THE MORNING

crowley, they just look at aziraphale and think about how lucky they are to have finally gotten the chance.

WHO SUGGESTS NEW THINGS IN BED

aziraphale. aziraphale would definitely be like “would you like to be pegged tonight, my dear?” and crowley would spit out their coffee, leaving azi to smirk.

WHO CRIES AT MOVIES

aziraphale. definitely.

WHO GIVES UNPROMPTED MASSAGES

crowley, they’d see aziraphale having a hard day and would sneak up behind them, and start rubbing their neck to get the kinks out.

WHO FUSSES OVER THE OTHER WHEN THEY’RE SICK

aziraphale. no questions asked.

WHO GETS JEALOUS EASIEST

crowley. when he found out about oscar wilde, they went so red in the face, azi had to come over and give them a big old kiss on the cheek and remind them that it was just a fling. crowley would still overthink it, though.

WHO HAS THE MOST EMBARRASSING TASTE IN MUSIC

if aziraphale calls velvet underground bebop, it leads me to believe they would listen to people like jus.tin timb.er.lake and be like “absolutely delightful!”

WHO COLLECTS SOMETHING UNUSUAL

aziraphale!

WHO TAKES THE LONGEST TO GET READY

they both do, have you seen their outfits? crowley has to make sure their hair looks good, and aziraphale struggles with outfits before just picking their regular outfit.

WHO IS THE MOST TIDY AND ORGANISED

crowley. their flat is very tidy and organized!

WHO GETS MOST EXCITED ABOUT THE HOLIDAYS

aziraphale used to before the apocalypse. they still do, and they try to contain the excitement but crowley has to remind them that its a reason why they love them so much.

WHO IS THE BIG SPOON/LITTLE SPOON

crowley is the little spoon and you can pry that from my cold, dead hands.

WHO GETS MOST COMPETITIVE WHEN PLAYING GAMES AND/OR SPORTS

crowley, really. don’t get him in front of a wii or give him mario kart.

WHO STARTS THE MOST ARGUMENTS

crowley.

WHO SUGGESTS THAT THEY BUY A PET

aziraphale! i believe they would be like “i’d like to get a dog” and they have this argument as a couple whether they get a cat or a dog before deciding that both is good, and they also get a cockatoo as well and name it winston.

WHAT COUPLE TRADITIONS THEY HAVE

dining at the ritz, every week. they also feed the ducks, go on picnics and just do small things for each other. they go stargazing on clear nights.

WHAT TV SHOWS THEY WATCH TOGETHER

i feel like they’d both really enjoy like breaking bad, parks and recreation and orphan black as well as like spaced.

WHAT OTHER COUPLE THEY HANG OUT WITH

they spend a lot of time with anathema and newt as well as tracy and shadwell.

HOW THEY SPEND TIME TOGETHER AS A COUPLE

crowley just likes spending time with aziraphale, so they’ll spend all day in the shop as a snake and freak out customers just to see aziraphale smile and chide them.

WHO MADE THE FIRST MOVE

aziraphale. at least, i think it was them in our threads. i could be mistaken?

WHO BRINGS FLOWERS HOME

crowley.

WHO IS THE BEST COOK

aziraphale can’t cook in my opinion and so that leaves crowley to do most of the cooking.

#lostsvvord #disasterpaladin #❛ 🐍 › 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠? ( answered )#❛ 📚 › 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. ( meta )#❛ 👨‍❤️‍👨 › 𝐢 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. ( husbands )

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ourownsideimagines · 5 years

Text

Personal Affairs (Aziraphale x genderqueer!Reader x Crowley pre-relationship)

Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley, Genderqueer!Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: @lordbeezyprinceofhell

Point of View: Second Person

Summary: While looking over the shop for Aziraphale, the mafia decide they’re going to pay a visit. Little do they know, you have Crowley on the phone.

Warnings: Guns, shooting, blood, angst

Words: 1476

A/N: I was writing this along with a fem!reader so if I messed up on pronouns please let me know!!!

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Watching over the bookshop was one of the greater pleasures in (name)’s life. They’d known the angel for a number of years now, having stopped by in the midst of a rainstorm in hope the kind shop owner would allow them to wait it out. The two of them had got to know each other that night, and (name) found themself coming back, even if they didn’t browse the shelves.

It took a few years for (name) to figure out that Aziraphale and his companion Crowley weren’t quite human. The two looked human, and they sounded human, but there was no way those two men were human. It hadn’t been nearly as hard to work out what they were, in the end. Especially when it seemed almost every time he opened his mouth Crowley addressed Aziraphale as ‘Angel’. At first (name) had assumed it was a term of endearment - in the end, maybe it still was. They weren’t about to judge.

It took a few months of back and forth arguing before the two finally admitted it. (Name) apologized with a new Velvet Underground CD for Crowley and a angel-wing mug for Aziraphale. And after a few more months, and some not-so-great times, Aziraphale offered them a job at the bookshop - to watch over it while he was away, and reorganize if anything needed reorganizing. It was the best paying job (name) had ever had, and they absolutely loved it. They hadn’t sold a single book, at Aziraphale’s request. He’d quickly taught them the art of turning people down, which was both anxiety inducing and very relieving at the same time.

On nights like this, alone in the shop, (name) liked to think about many things. Sometimes, it was about the books. Aziraphale allowed (name) to read them as long as they remained in pristine condition. Other times, (name) would think about how they could better organize a display. They knew the clutter was more to drive off potential customers, but it bothered them. They didn’t want to end up being stuck under a mountain of books they’d accidentally knocked over while trying to reach whatever it is that Aziraphale had asked them to grab.

Oh, and they also tended to think about their angelic boss and his demonic partner. A lot.

(Name) had had a crush on the two of them way before ever finding out what they were. There wasn’t anything they wouldn’t give just to know if the two liked them back - maybe not their arms. They liked their arms very much.

Sometimes, they thought about telling the boys. What was the worst that could happen, after all?

Rejection?

Sure, they could reject them. But they wouldn’t stop being friends, would they? Aziraphale and Crowley didn’t seem like the type to do that, but nerves kept (name) from saying it anyway. They really wanted to stay their friend, even if that meant pinning for the rest of their life.

Tonight, the shop was empty. (Name) hadn’t bothered to lock the front door just yet, they were happily sorting through a few of the newer books deciding the best places to put them, where no one but themself and Aziraphale would find them. A sigh left their lips as they heard the bell above the front door ring. They snatched their phone off a nearby shelf, pausing their music before making their way out to the front.

“Hey, Mis-ter Fell,” the sing-song voice made (name)’s blood run cold. They stopped before entering the main part of the shop. Quickly, they unlocked their phone, and dialed up the only number that came to mind - Crowley’s. He told them to only use it in emergencies, since he didn’t like his phone being clogged up, so (name) hadn’t used it yet. They hoped to someone that Crowley would pick up. After muting their phone, (name) wedged it between a couple of books before taking in a deep breath and resuming their greeting.

“Hello, welcome,” They said coolly. It was a group of three men, dressed in black slacks, dark shirts and fancy shoes. (Name) was positive that at least one of them had a gun, they could see the bulge in on his side. “Is there anything I can do for you gentlemen?”

“Where’s Mr. Fell?” Asked the man with the gun. He was the largest of the three, and his fingers were decorated with many different rings.

“He’s not in right now,” If Crowley had answered the phone, they would be listening in by now, (name) was certain of it. Wherever they were, (name) hoped that if things got out of hand they would reach the shop soon. “If you need him, perhaps you can come back at a later date?”

“You here that,” The man turned to his friends. “Mr. Fell isn’t in right now.” The men began knocking over piles of books, much to (name)’s dismay. They had just finished organizing the clutter and now the men were making it worse.

“What the hell are you doing,” They said, taking a few steps in the men’s direction. “Stop that-” (Name) squeaked a bit as the big man drew his gun, pointing it at them almost carelessly.

“Look, love, this isn’t anything personal,” He said. “It’s between us and Mr. Fell.” The click of the hammer being pulled back made their whole body go stiff. “So, why don’t you take your pretty little face and get the hell out of here?”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” The man’s grip on the gun tightened.

“I said no. I asked you to come back later.”

“And I don’t think you heard me correctly.” The man sneered. “It is between us and Mr. Fell. Nothing personal.”

“It feels pretty personal.” (Name) took a step back as the man took a step forward. “I think it’s time you left.”

“I don’t think you understand our situation,” The man growled. “I’ve got the gun. I’m in charge now.”

“Seeing as you don’t work here, I can’t see why you’d be in charge.” (Name) was stalling now, praying to whoever might be listening that it wouldn’t be much longer.

“I’m gonna count to three. If you aren’t out of this bloody shop, I’m gonna shoot you.”

“Now, I really don’t believe that’s necessary.” (name) rushed out.

“One,”

“Please, I’m sure we can settle this-”

“Two,”

“Oh, god, please tell me you picked up the phone-”

“Three.” (Name) took in a sharp gasp as the gun went off, crying out as the bullet tore through her shoulder, splattering blood back onto the nearby bookcase. The lights flickered momentarily, and as if in a scene from a horror movie, something appeared. Then men didn’t get out a scream before the shop went dark. (Name) had sunk to the floor, holding a hand over the bleeding wound. When the lights came back on, they could have cried in relief. Crowley and Aziraphale stood in the middle of the shop, stone faced. Aziraphale adjusted his bow-tie while Crowley’s gaze snapped in your direction. The first thing (name) noticed was that he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. The second thing they noticed was the light blood splatter on the ground at their feet, which disappeared with the snap of Aziraphale’s fingers.

Crowley rushed to (name)’s side.

“Let me see,” He said. He gently grabbed (name)’s wrist, and dragged their hand away from the wound. Crowley didn’t have much of a reaction to the sight. He placed a hand over the wound and (name) took in another sharp breath as a sense of relief courses through them. When Crowley pulled his hand back, the wound was gone, as was the blood and even the hole in their shirt. “Come on. Up you get.” Crowley hauled them to their feet.

“I’m so sorry, I know you two were busy.” (Name) said.

“Why in Heaven’s name are you apologizing, my dear?” Aziraphale gaped. “You were in trouble, there’s nothing you could do about that.”

“I could have handled it better. Probably could have avoided getting shot.”

“If you hadn’t called, you could have wound up dead, (name).” Crowley said. “Don’t apologize.”

“Okay.” (Name) murmured.

“Now,” Crowley straightened his jacket. “How about we take you out to dinner. Something nice. After all that, I don’t imagine you want to spend the rest of your night in here.”

“I believe that’s a swell idea.” Aziraphale agreed. “What do you say, (name)?” (Name) glanced around the shop. The books that had been knocked over where still there, but the men who had done the knocking over were nowhere to be seen. The man with the gun was nowhere to be seen. Their blood, which had decorated the shelved not even five minutes ago was nowhere to be seen.

A miracle, they decided.

“Yes.” They said. “I think I’d like that.”

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