#Aziraphale & Beethoven

[lost-soul-in-time]

Aziraphale, my beloved

[meanwhile-at-the-cottage]

Today Aziraphale and Crowley attended an orchestral performance of some of their favourite composers at the Royal Albert Hall, including Beethoven, Schubert, and all of the Bachs. Thankfully, there were no celestial harmonies.

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Wild Hearts

In the idyllic English countryside, far from the hustle and bustle of the big city, two teachers at Willowbrook Hall set out to transform their students’ lives through the world of theatre. But for Mr. Crowley, the challenge of navigating his long hidden feelings and dear friendship with Mr. Fell may prove to be the greatest drama of all.

Length: 145,589 Words

AO3 Rating: Explicit/ Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, Human AU, Romance, Slow Burn

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by foolishlovers

*Minor Spoilers* Welcome to Willowbrook Hall, or as I like to call it, The Gay and Trans School for Gay and Trans Teens. Come meet professors Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley, and their colorful cast of teens as they spend the school year getting ready for the performance of a lifetime in the school play. This place has it all: hijinks, dances, costumes, drama, and best of all a cat.

What I really loved about this story was how cinematic it felt. Sure, some scenes intentionally reference a movie (Wild Child, so fun and camp!), but that's not what I mean. The whole thing plays out like a movie or its own TV show. We get big dramatic moments of romance and heartbreak, plus fun ones like a mini makeover, the school dance, and the play. And there is tons of subtle foreshadowing along the way that will make you jump up and down when things come to fruition. It's thrilling and engaging, and waiting for updates when this was a WIP was excruciating because I wanted to know what was going to happen next so badly!

The side characters especially are so much fun! I loved the kids and their side plots. Even though we don’t follow their story directly, we see enough to get hooked. Adam and Warlock are standouts, but they aren't the only ones I enjoyed! Honestly, I'd read a standalone from the kids perspective! The teachers are excellent too. I have a soft spot for Newt, who pops in now and then, always a sweetheart. Crowley could be in the depths of heartbreak and still manage a smile for Newt. All the teachers (plus Nina) don't feel like they're just there. I was interested in them, and you really get a sense of how much of a family they all are. It's a real skill to make side characters as interesting as the main duo.

Of course, the main attraction is Crowley and Aziraphale. They’ll make you fall in love with them all over again. They’re the perfect domestic couple well before they admit anything. So many lovely details about them, from note passing and bets, to their shared bond with Beethoven the cat (aka the best character ever). You'll experience everything with them: the highs of gender discovery and euphoria, and the lows of miscommunication and misunderstandings. What drama is complete without that? Yes, they’re a bit thick headed, and yes, a single conversation could have fixed everything. But where's the fun in that? I'm here for the drama! The pang of heartbreak and yearning makes the reunion so much sweeter! They are wonderfully characterized, and yet still have an air and life of their own. Unique to this story, but true to their characters.

You’ll be mostly safe reading this in public. There are a handful of explicit scenes but you should have enough notice to get away from prying eyes. The sex here is delicious and heart pounding! Plus the way that Crowley's gender fluidity plays into those scenes was very beautiful. There are so many reasons to love this story. It's engaging, cinematic, dramatic, funny, and romantic. This was an incredible achievement and I hope you have just as much fun and I did!

Read it here, fic by foolishlovers

[youryurigoddess]

Aziraphale’s wine

It is a truth universally acknowledged in the Good Omens fandom that an angel in need of a drink turns to his secret stash of Châteauneuf-du-Pape in the back room. He picked up a dozen cases in 1921, and a whole century later there's still some left… for special occasions.

Just to put things in perspective, a standard case contains 12 750ml bottles, for a total of 9 liters of wine. A dozen cases equals 144 bottles, or 108 liters of wine. That’s quite a lot for a single purchase, so Aziraphale — the established sherry and sweet drinks connoisseur — must have had a good reason for it.

One potential explanation is the aura of grandeur around this particular wine. The papal connection, rich history of the region, and recognition of high quality products give Châteauneuf-du-Pape wines a very luxurious status, considerably influencing their price tags. And Aziraphale is known to have standards.

Another one is the way in which their taste differs from Aziraphale’s usual choices: Châteauneuf-du-Pape reds are often described as earthy with gamey flavors that have hints of tar and leather. The wines are considered tough and tannic in their youth, but maintain their rich spiciness as they age.

Since everything in Good Omens has a meaning, it never hurts to run through a quick Strong’s Concordance search whenever a date pops up in a dialogue or, even more importantly, somewhere on screen. More often than not the result seems to match the researched topic, as it’s the case here:

1921: to know exactly, to recognize.

Provided examples: I come to know by directing my attention to him or it, I perceive, discern, recognize; I found out. The general usage of the word usually refers to knowing someone aptly, properly, thoroughly, even biblically. Which might be either a wishful thinking on Aziraphale’s part or just another layer of subtext in this already romantically charged scene. The table dressing, multiple candles, and focus on the lamps with Auguste Moreau’s Young Lovers statues in the background seem to successfully communicate what the angel left unsaid.

Too bad that Crowley remained so adorably oblivious for the next eighty years. At least when he finally came to the realization, he responded with an attempted temptation to another vintage red wine @vidavalor already analyzed.

But back to Aziraphale’s wine. To be exact, it’s a 1921 Châteauneuf-du-Pape from the domaine de Baban. An actual French vineyard from the Rhône region that still exists to this day, even though a few decades ago it got merged with another estate into what is now known as domaine Riché-Baban. According to the local guides, the 11 hectares on the estate are located in the Châteauneuf-du-Pape designation area in the Bois Lauzon and Mourre de Baud districts. At the moment 90% of the wines produced there are sent to wine dealers.

1920s were quite an interesting time for this region, but not because of the flapper cabarets or drag shows usually associated with the era on the Old Continent. To the horror of European oenophiles, right after World War I the whole of France found itself awash with fake wine. One of the worst outrages was the use of lead that magically transformed cheap, acid wine into something deceptively rich and sweet on the outside and one of the most powerful neurotoxins on the inside. People were already well aware of its effects — the poisoning from drinking sweetened wine probably made Handel go blind and Beethoven go deaf, but it shows how desperate for sweetness they were before sugar became available to the masses.

Admittably, it wasn’t a new practice. Far from it — the Romans liked it so much that they even advised to pack lead pans on travels to boil local wine in them to make it sweeter, especially in colder provinces like Britannia. But Aziraphale didn’t buy twelve cases of counterfeit wine for the sake of some good memories of Rome and its many health hazards. No, the fussy angel made sure to get the actually good stuff from the other side of the English Channel.

Henry Tacussel, whose name is mentioned on his wine label, was a French viticulturalist and a close friend of Baron Pierre Le Roy of the Chateau Fortia nearby, a trained lawyer and fellow winegrower from Châteauneuf-du-Pape who established the Winegrowers' Union of the Rhône Valley. Together with the Baron he became one of the founders of Appellation d'origine contrôlée (AOC), a labeling system intended to protect regional products and technologies that is still in use in France and serves as an inspiration to similar solutions worldwide. Their efforts were deliberately centred on Châteauneuf-du-Pape because with such a beguiling name even in comparison to other labels it seemed to attract an undue share of fraudsters at the time.

Soon after Aziraphale’s shopping spree, the local wine producers led by Le Roy and Tacussel began a very long campaign to establish legal protection for the wine from their commune. The delimited area and the method of wine production were finally awarded legal recognition after a decade, in 1933, but it wasn’t the end of the criminal activities on this front. An undercover investigation by The Sunday Times discovered that most of the “Châteauneuf” in the 1960s Britain was actually blended and bottled in Ipswich.

One question remains: was it a purely human affair, or maybe one requiring a demonic or angelic intervention?

[dalliancekay]

AFTER pt. 2

I posted yesterday's thoughts on Twitter too which resulted in thinking about what might happen after after, to humans and Heaven and Hell.... so in addition to After pt. 1: I don't think Aziraphale and Crowley will become humans or that they will change who they are (Aziraphale Falling or Crowley not being a demon anymore). They will stay the same but the definitions of who angels and demons are might change somewhat. We don't know what dead humans do in Heaven currently but I bet they are not exactly having fun. At a best guess they are incredibly bored. At worst... I'm not sure. They are mostly isolated like the angels are? And most humans in Hell don’t really belong there either. I mean, like why all the Bachs? Beethoven was a drunk curmudgeon who mismanaged his family affairs badly, but does that deserve eternal punishment? The man was beaten as a kid and kept losing his hearing most of his adulthood - and still is the best composer ever (fight me). So what if that changed. The places got connected. Humans cooperated to make it all better. We ... can be good at that. And you know what Hell needs? Angels. Angels like Muriel. What if angels went to Hell to speak to and/or heal those who did bad things. Why did they do that? Biology? Brain tumour? Terrible childhood? Wrong neighbourhood? And what if humans from Heaven had chats with demons. How did they cope with awful times? How to find joy when the world keeps throwing tragedies at you. What gave them hope. Etc. And the Husbands would help set this up and then they’d semi-retire but still get plenty visits from friends on both sides and regularly help out as they know so much about Earth. And its humans.

[goodomensafterdark]

Writers Guild Cock Fight - Give Ourselves One More Chance by niknak90 on Reddit

Summary:

Written by niknak90; find them on Reddit and AO3!

Pressed against the wall by a very not-nice demon three days before the world is scheduled to end, Aziraphale makes a bold move.

Word count: 4283 words

Content: angst and smut, unresolved romantic tension, pining while fucking, porn with some plot, porn with feelings, anal sex, first time, top Crowley/bottom Aziraphale, wall slam, mandatory Queen lyrics, food porn mentioned

Excerpt:

The Apocalypse was scheduled in three short days, and if they didn’t locate the Antichrist in time, they would be separated forever, fighting on opposite sides. Heaven would win, and he’d lose something more dear to him than sushi and Beethoven and even Wilde first editions. How could he endure an eternity of celestial harmonies and The Sound of Music knowing he’d thrown away his last chance to be with the one he’d loved for almost eighty years, probably far longer? This was their last dance, figuratively speaking, and now Crowley’s hips were pressed against his, their noses touching. If not now, when?

Aziraphale leaned into Crowley’s lips, interrupting the rant he hadn’t been listening to. Calling it a kiss seemed generous—it was more a clumsy collision of lips and teeth and noses. It might have even appeared accidental, a natural consequence of startling an angel and knocking him off balance. Crowley stepped back in shock, letting go of his lapels. Aziraphale grabbed his necktie and pulled him back in, making it clear this was no accident. This second attempt felt more like a real kiss, simple and chaste but with years of unspoken desire beneath the surface.

“Angel…” Crowley gasped as he pressed him back against the wall, deepening the kiss. One hand went behind Aziraphale’s head, protecting it from the wall, while the other went to his waist, pressing their hips back together. As Crowley’s tongue slid into his mouth, Aziraphale was briefly startled by the intrusion, but his lips acted of their own accord, letting him in further. Soon enough, his own tongue joined the desperate dance. He had never done this before, but his body seemed to be running on instinct, filled with a desire to draw Crowley closer and feel this electric rush through his whole body. He ran his fingers through Crowley’s fire-red hair with one hand, the other tracing down his back until it reached the arse he had spent more time than was angelically prudent admiring over the centuries. The part of him that said he was moving far too fast was drowned out by more urgent voices reminding him there was no time for propriety.

Read more on AO3!

[ezra-fell-and-co]

Aziraphale & Shostakovich

The moment in the record shop when Aziraphale said he was picking up a Shostakovich record I had So Many Thoughts.

The symphony he's listening to is Symphony No.5 in D Minor, Op. 47, composed in 1937 and premiered in Leningrad to a thirty+ minute long standing ovation. Prior to this piece, Dimitri S. spent many nights sleeping in the hallway outside of his apartment so that his family wouldn't see if the government police in charge of enforcing Stalin's brutal rule came for him in the middle of the night. His last pieces had been received harshly by critics and called unpatriotic, which was just about the worst thing a composer living during The Great Terror (1936-1938) could do. Those who were not loyal to the regime and explicitly portrayed it in their art were branded as traitors and sent to gulags or were straight up executed.

The San Francisco Symphony describes the 5th symphony as "the story of a fall from grace and redemption.". Shostakovitch has gone from being a golden example to being eyed as a traitor almost overnight, the 5th Symphony becoming his redemption back into good graces.

So basically Dimitri S. was a man with contrasting ideologies to the powers that be, so to say, who was living under the threat of death, torture, or excommunication from his homeland. Haha, so weird that Aziraphale would want to listen to his music specifically.

(If you've never listened to Symphony No. 5, I highly encourage you to go listen!)

To set the scene-

From The Houston Symphony's 2018 Fighting the Barbarian Artist article on Symph. 5:

"In January 1934, Dmitri Shostakovich scored one of the biggest triumphs of his career with the premiere of Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District, a work official critics hailed as the first great Soviet opera. Based on a nineteenth-century novella by Leskov, it follows the misadventures of Katerina, the illiterate wife of a well-to-do country merchant who is driven to murder in order to be with her handsome but unworthy lover, the laborer Sergei. By turns satirical and tragic, Lady Macbeth explored themes of oppression with a potent combination of sex, violence and some truly beautiful music that played to full houses for two years. Then on January 26, 1936, Stalin went to see it. Two days later, on page 3 of Pravda (“Truth”—the newspaper that continues to serve as the official mouthpiece of the Russian Communist Party to this day), Shostakovich found an anonymous review of Lady Macbeth headlined “Muddle Instead of Music.” One representative quote declared that the opera “tickles the perverted tastes of the bourgeoisie with its fidgety, screaming, neurotic music…”" ...

There is debate about if Stalin himself wrote the review to make a point, or if he just signed off on it being printed. It's also unclear if Shostakovitch was being targeted specifically, or just because of his notoriety to prove that no matter how big a name you are you're not safe if you don't fall in line, or if he was just being used as a pawn in the ongoing power struggles of the day.

Either way, he was very aware that he was in danger. A friend of Stalin's was vanished when he wrote to Stalin in defense of Shostakovitch's work after the fateful review.

The 5th was a result of Dimitri knowing he needed to get back into good graces, so he had to give them something that they wanted. Or at least something that sounded like what they wanted.

Symphony No. 5 is very sneaky in how it subverts the expectations and requirements of Stalin's Russia.

For one, it's form- a symphony is a very structured form and very Western, popularized by Beethoven and co. It's also instrumental, which allowed Shostakovitch to hide a lot of references, subversions, and musical sarcasm/critiques without the untrained critics and government officials being any the wiser.

D minor, the main tonality of the symphony, has been described by various music theorists about what kind of emotional experience it portrays. John Mattheson in 1713 described it as "Serious, Pious, Ruminating. Melancholy, feminine, brooding worries, contemplation of negativity."

However, for our purposes, Aziraphale is listening to the fourth movement, which is also the most political. (More excellent write ups about the entire work can be read here, here, here, and here. There is a PBS documentary about it here.) ((It also shifts to an ironic D Major as one point, which Mattheson describes as "Triumphant, Victorious War-Cries. Screaming hallelujah’s, rejoicing in conquering obstacles. War marches, holiday songs, invitations to join the winning team."))

The fourth movement is bombastic, letting the brass section loose right at the start. The main theme in this section is from an unpublished song that Shostakovitch had written as a setting for a Pushkin poem. The piece as a whole and specifically this movement is a direct critique of Stalin himself.

The poem?

With sleepy brush the barbarian artist The master’s painting blackens; And thoughtlessly his wicked drawing Over it he is daubing. But in years the foreign colors Peal off, an aged layer: The work of genius is ‘gain before us, With former beauty out it comes. Thus my failings vanish too From my wearied soul, And again within it visions rise, Of my early purer days.

Which I think speaks for itself in what kind of mentality Aziraphale might have listening to the symphony.

I'm not sure which recording he listens to, but in the record shop we are shown that it's a record with a blue label on the disk. There are several recordings that have blue labels including the 1972 Moscow Philharmonic with Kiril Kondrashin and the 1989 Scottish National Orchestra with Neeme Jarvi. Leonard Bernstein and the NY Philharmonic have a very famous recording as well.

But I think the most likely is the 1962 Vienna Philharmonic with Constantin Silvestri. Why? Well, here's the record:

[maidenimage]

Ineffable May 2024: 16/31 → Day 16: "1827"

Summary: In 1827, Crowley and Aziraphale go to Edinburgh and encounter grave-digger Elspeth McKinnon. But a few months before this, they spend an evening honoring the life, legacy, and recent passing of Ludwig van Beethoven.

Rated: G

Word count: 321

[onbearfeet]

Queerwolf By Night: Queercoding, Media Literacy, and Werewolf By Night (part 3)

Lovely to have you back for this, the final part of our examination of WBN being queer as fuck. If you missed the earlier presentations in Media Studies and Writing Hacks With Kat, Part 1 is here and Part 2 is here.

We've gone through the Hays Code AND the AIDS crisis so far, and that's a lot, so could I interest you in a cup of coffee brewed over a campfire?

Thanks, Ted. You're a peach.

So let's look at the final scene of WBN through a queer lens. There's a needle drop, color is restored to the world, and we see Jack waking up in the woods to drink coffee, grunt at Ted, and eventually decide that sushi should happen.

(Side note: I have a whole rant about queercoding and sushi, but I cut it, so here's a gif of Aziraphale gayly eating sushi in Good Omens, which you should watch.)

Okay, enough queer angels. Time for more queer monsters.

First things first: this scene is SO DOMESTIC, y'all. They're literally playing house in the woods, in that Ted has built Jack an adorable little house and brewed his morning coffee. The camp is littered with little domestic touches like the French press and the guitar. It's a homey, if slightly eclectic, vibe. (Where did Ted find a payphone?)

There is no explanation for these objects being there, afaik; Ted and Jack both have presumably come from some distance away, involuntarily in Ted's case, so there's no reason Ted would know the location of a well-stocked camp to put an unconscious Jack down in if Jack even set one up. Presumably the camp is Ted's work, but there's never an explanation for where he got any items other than the robe and the phonograph. (I'm particularly curious about the flower mug, personally.) Yet the objects are not remarked upon, and the entire scene is played as if this is a relatively normal morning for the two of them.

In fact, most of the mechanics of the scene are effectively those of a morning-after scene, perhaps a morning after characters fall into bed for the first time. Jack wakes up groaning, crawls out of bed to see where he is, and finds his partner has laid out something like breakfast for him and is prepared to discuss the events of the night before whenever Jack is ready.

And speaking of that discussion, we once again have displays of queercoded masculinity: Jack and Ted being physically affectionate, playful banter, and emotional vulnerability when Jack asks about Elsa. You know the drill by now. The camera pans up as "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" swells and fades out.

Wait.

Rainbow?

Let's talk about music in this film.

Michael Giacchino is primarily known as a composer of film music. WBN is his directorial debut. I guarantee you've heard his music before, because it's basically in every summer blockbuster franchise. If you can't get John Williams, Danny Elfman, or Hans Zimmer (all of whom are getting long in the tooth), you get Giacchino and he turns in a fucking SCORE.

Now, I am not a music person. Not at all. But even my musically illiterate ass knows that traditional film scoring derives a lot from classical music, especially Romantic composers like Beethoven. And that means LEITMOTIFS, baby!

(I learned about leitmotifs from Bugs Bunny and Star Wars. Do not be impressed.)

A leitmotif is a short musical phrase that can be used to signify a character, object, or theme in a larger work of music. For a very basic example of this, look up the Force theme from Star Wars and watch a supercut of all the times it was used to indicate that someone was using the Force. Or just watch this Sideways video about why the music in Rise of Skywalker was ass:

Anyhoo. The point of leitmotifs is to give an audience a feeling without necessarily tipping them off to exactly WHY they're having that feeling. And Giacchino LOVES his leitmotifs.

So when he uses someone else's music, he's extremely aware of the emotions that can come attached to that music. It's literally what he does.

There are two pieces of music used in WBN that Giacchino didn't write: a late 1930s recording of Vera Lynn singing "Wishing Will Make It So" and Judy Garland singing "Over The Rainbow" from The Wizard of Oz. Let's start with Vera Lynn.

Vera Lynn was an English singer most associated with big band music before and during WWII. During the war, she was known as "the Forces' sweetheart", both for her efforts to entertain the troops and for the fact that she was kind of every British fighting man's waifu. What Betty Grable's legs were to American GIs, Vera Lynn's voice was to British servicemen. She's best known for the song "We'll Meet Again", which is about exactly what it sounds like. She was a nice lady, by all accounts, and there is a ferry boat named after her now.

A Vera Lynn song about childhood and wishing is what Verussa plays in the labyrinth, apparently to annoy Elsa, who switches it off (even though that's going to inform everyone of where she is). For the purposes of queercoding, Vera Lynn is mom and apple pie, or possibly mum and fish and chips, and above all she is safe, compulsory heterosexuality. The Forces' sweetheart.

Judy Garland, on the other hand, is a queer icon.

I can't overstate what a Big Deal Judy Garland and Dorothy Gale from The Wizard of Oz are in queer culture. The themes of the story, including acceptance of the unusual and embrace of a found family (along with the sapphic elements of some of the books), resonated so deeply with queer people that for several decades, "are you a friend of Dorothy?" was code for "are you gay?" The US Navy actually launched an investigation to find the mysterious "Dorothy" who was supposedly the ringleader of all the gay sailors.

And then there's the song itself, with its theme of longing for a faraway, more colorful place where those who don't fit in at home are loved for who they are. It's, uh, pretty resonant with the queer experience.

So I now draw your attention to the phonograph. Gramophone. Record player. Whatever it's called.

In WBN, we first see the player set up in the labyrinth, presumably by Verussa or at her orders. It's playing a Vera Lynn song about childhood and wishing, which apparently annoys Elsa so much that she switches it off, thus alerting Jack to her location.

The next appearance of the player is in the camp, where it's now playing "Over the Rainbow" beside Jack as he wakes up. Ted has presumably stolen it; there's no other candidate for that, and we already saw him swipe a murder robe for Jack, so why not a record player too?

In other words, Verussa Enthusiastic Heterosexuality Bloodstone sets up the Compulsory Heterosexuality Machine, after which Elsa Ally-Coded Bloodstone turns it off in disgust, and Ted swipes it and turns it gay for Jack's benefit.

That's the coding. That's BARELY subtext. I really don't know what else to tell you. This essay started with my making an offhand joke to bluemoonperegrine about Ted and Jack being "literally friends of Dorothy" and then realizing nobody else in the conversation had noticed this stuff.

So what do we do about all this? Is WBN queer? Does all the Wolfstone stuff pale in comparison to the glory of Russallis? Am I trying to start a ship war in a fandom so small it probably wouldn't fill up Vera Lynn's namesake ferry boat?

Jack, you can answer this for me.

Nope. Not trying to start anything. I happily read Wolfstone, and technically have written some. I love all three WBN leads and am happy to enjoy them in any configuration (although my personal preference is group napping in a puppy pile, because these characters deserve naps).

I just figured it was worth documenting all this so people who haven't had the benefit of my very strange education would be better equipped to recognize (and ideally enjoy) old-style queercoding when they see it.

Wait a minute. You promised writing hacks. It's in the series title and everything.

Shit, you caught me.

Obviously, queercoding isn't a universal tool. There are plenty of storytelling contexts in which it's much better to make characters explicitly queer. Representation matters, and all that.

But sometimes you won't have time for explicit confirmation (like when your story takes place overnight and nobody really has time to play tonsil hockey). Sometimes you won't be able to include it due to outside constraints (like Disney being Disney).

And sometimes, you'll remember that there are plenty of people who can't or won't pick up explicitly queer media. Homophobic parents who won't let their kids watch Love, Simon ... but who WILL let them read your YA novel about unicorns or whatever where there are two female unicorns who are, uh, life partners. Grumpy uncles who refuse to acknowledge their nephew's boyfriend until they notice that, hey, they kinda act like Finn and Poe from that Star War. And so on. Sometimes, coded rep is the best rep you can get ... and so it's useful to have. A good toolbox has ALL the tools.

So if you're building characters for your story and don't or can't have specific queer goals, throw in a little coding. Put a rainbow T-shirt on a kid. Let two boys hold hands or have literally any feelings. Let a girl say a girl is pretty. Look up some of the older symbols for queer love and have someone growing lavender in their garden, or use newer queer symbols and have a character crack an egg in a key scene. Have a character who's content without a romantic or sexual relationship, and has an arc about something else, because aces and aros exist too.

There's a whole universe of coding out there. Go add some layers to your work.

Or better yet--see if they're there already. You might surprise yourself.

Sometimes the monster has a familiar face.

[potatowithahat]

The theater

An Aziracrow fic and day one of Fictober!

“Hey Crowley?” Aziraphale called from where he was lounging on the couch in there apartment above the bookshop 

“Yes Angel?” Crowley looked up lazily from where he was beside the record player , currently playing one of Aziraphale’s ‘new age’ vinyls 

It was a recording of beethoven's 5th

“Do you remember that little man we helped out back in London? That playwright?” Aziraphale asked as he set down his book 

“Hmm.. yes, yes right. The Shakespeare guy. Tell you what, his plays were awfully boring but the man certainly knew how to Wright insults. That was good work,  I'll tell you, writing insults like that” His husband nodded 

“Well” Aziraphale starts as he sits up “that theater troupe my ‘grandfather’ helped set up” He gave him a suspiciously cheeky wink “is holding some sort of festival for him”

“Ahh” Crowley could see where this was going,  and already had his phone out to buy the tickets “When?”

“This weekend” Aziraphale sets his book down on the end table “I thought you and i might-”

“Look at that. There performing Romeo and Juliet too” Crowley cuts him off “a modern twist on the classic tale” He reads off his phone “Featuring songs by Queen”

Of course, Aziraphale already knew that. It had been his idea to have the event in the first place. All he had to do was plant a few seeds in a directors brain and bing- Anniversary date planned.

“I suppose it doesn't sound too bad” Crowley says, trying to sound as if he wasn’t all that interested, though he had already bought the tickets and was currently picking out his outfit in his head

“It’s a date then” Aziraphale said, giggling inside at the thought, despite the two of them having been married for years now

“It's just not where i thought it would be, that's all” crowley muttered as he opened the car door for his better half.

When Aziraphale had mentioned helping found a theater troupe some time ago he had imagined a little hole in the wall place with charm and a dedicated few members. What Crowley was not expecting was the elegant theater that stood before them. The Building was grandiose, at least two floors with a faux-Marble exterior and large steps leading up to the ticket boxes.

There were crowds of people lined up at the doors, their conversation buzzing quietly from the queue.

“They have done quite well, Haven’t they?” Aziraphale Practically beams as they walk across the street towards the theater. “The building is new, of course. When i was directing we were still performing in parks and outdoor stages”

Crowley knew that, of course. Though he’d never admit it when asked, he had gone to every one of those early shows. He just Adored the look on Aziraphale’s face when he saw all his hard work pay off. 

He just didn’t expect them to doThis well 

“Course, Angel” He nods, placing a hand gently on his husbands back as he guides him to the box office, reaching to pull his phone out of his pocket to show the man 

“Oh we don't need that dear” Aziraphale waved his hand away “I have a box”

“Oh” Crowley shuffles behind him awkwardly as the two pass through the doors, the Box office attendant smiling and nodding as Aziraphale passes “I thought you hadn’t been here recently”

Aziraphale smiles sheepishly as he leads Crowley up the stairs “Well, yes, but I like to support the place. Half the time i just send my people out to attend for me”

It was true. Shadwell had been to quite a few plays now with Tracy on their ‘date nights’. It was one of the perks of working for that Southern Pansy.

“Ahh” Crowley nods “I suppose that's nice. Good thing, supporting the locals” He gives Aziraphale a smile as the two of them start up a curtained staircase to a small private box with four seats

“Yes well I try” Aziraphale smiles as he sits down, looking down at the stage happily “Oh doesn’t the set look lovely? Much better then anything i’ve put together 

“Yes yes” Crowley nodded, more focused on his angel then the stage “It is lovely”

He slid into the seat beside Aziraphale, taking his hand in his gently

“It’s quite romantic” Aziraphale smiles and looked over at the Demon

“Thank you for coming” Aziraphale says softly

“Anything for you Angel” crowley mutters, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

Thank you for reading!!!!

I hope you enjoyed

If you'd like to read more of my stories, feel free to visit my Ao3, or check out my masterlist here on tumblr!!!

As always I'm a little gremlin when it comes to writing so if you have any fic ideas please feel free to drop an ask!!!!

[prettysquishygirl]

Chapter 4 of Murder at Gallows Hall is now up. And I have gone for the smut because it was both necessary to the plot and funny and made me grin. I can't think of a better reason. Anyway, my favourite bits are below the cut. If it interests you, it's over on AO3:

"When it's happened before, I've been alone," said Aziraphale and wondered if any of this would be considered oversharing. He wasn't quite sure about the etiquette in these situations and felt he was navigating it blindly. It didn't hurt that Crowley's fingers were still stroking the skin just below his waistband and Aziraphale decided that they were very much venturing to what could definitely be considered to be his buttocks. One cheek anyway.

"And what did you do, when you were all alone?" asked Crowley. He kissed the angel and drew back slowly, his teeth catching briefly in Aziraphale's bottom lip before he released it. "What terrible sins did you get up to?"

"I don't sin," said Aziraphale, who wasn't quite sure if this counted and didn't really care if it did. "I took care of it."

"Uh, interesting," said Crowley as his fingers spread wider under the close fabric of Aziraphale's trousers. "What did this taking care of entail?"

"You know what it entails," said Aziraphale.

"I'm interested to know what that means for you," said Crowley. "For instance, do you find a good book and use your free hand?"

"I don't read books while I'm dealing with that," said Aziraphale.

"Films?" said Crowley and tilted his head as he seemed to seriously consider it. "You listen to music. Chopin? Beethoven? Glenn Miller?"

"Gershwin," said Aziraphale and Crowley laughed. "What now?"

"You've got rhythm," said Crowley and squeezed his fingers. "That's amazing, angel. I'm impressed."

[smua70]

Chapter 21, Uptown Funk and Amadeus, of The War of the Hs is up!

The dance-off and rescue wind down, but the situation in Hell is about to freeze over.

A chant of “Amadeus, Amadeus!” draws his attention. Sure enough, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, still wearing his distinctive white wig and red coat, emerges. By his side is the Austrian rock singer Falco, encouraging everyone to sing along to his biggest hit. Wolfgang seems to enjoy the attention, for he grins and waves at the crowd of souls. Behind him, Beethoven sings “Ode to Joy.” After him come even more composers and performers and singers from every genre of music: jazz, rock, country, gospel, and many more. John Lennon passes by with Roy Orbison; George Harrison, with Ravi Shankar.

“There goes Dame Vera Lynn,” Aziraphale breathes in an awed voice. “She sang our song, Crowley!”

“I remember.” A quick miracle sends her to the front of the line climbing up the staircase. Another miracle helps him find Freddie Mercury. The rock legend appears as he did at the height of his career, in a sleeveless white shirt and blue jeans.

Crowley cups his hands around his mouth and bellows, “Freddie! Over here!”

“Anthony, darling!” he calls back. “I should’ve known you were behind this!”

[sensitivesiren]

"Now, you can behave while I finish my work, or I will have you removed."

found myself nostalgic for the days before GOs2, where we had all of those cheesy, fluffy oneshots from their time post armageddidn't. So I wrote one! Enjoy.

-------

[NIGHT - Int. Bookshop]

"Angelllllll, you are killing me. You know Beethoven is still one of Hell's right?"

Aziraphale does not smile, eyes trained studiously on the original Brandenburg Concerto scores he is restoring.

Well, attempting to restore.

He now has all six of them! He couldn't be more delighted. Worn down by time, but with just a touch of angelic love the pages illuminate and breathe beneath his gentle gloved fingers, the music rising to meet him sweetly as he lovingly mends its pages.

The music halts with a clang as an off-key groan sounds from the sofa. "Angel, when I agreed to come over I didn't think I was going to have to literally watch paint dry." Crowley is immaculately sprawled across the length of the sofa with one foot on the floor, a pilfered glass of Aziraphale's private reserve scotch hanging lazily from his fingertips. He tips the liquid into his mouth, miraculously spilling none of it on his tailored suit.

Aziraphale clears his throat primly. "If you remember, it was you that invited yourself over." Aziraphale deliberately turns a page, earning another groan from Crowley. "Now, you can behave while I finish my work or I will have you removed."

"Please, I would love to see you try." A sharp burst of laughter nearly upends the inkwell on Aziraphale's desk, the precious scores spared an oily demise only by the grace of a hasty miracle. Aziraphale takes a deep breath, rolling his neck, a small smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

"Goodnight, Crowley." Aziraphale says in a clipped tone, peeking at Crowley from the corner of his eye. He just barely sees Crowley's smug grin shatter.

Millennia of self control will not fail Aziraphale now. He lets Crowley squirm.

Crowley swallows, his throat bobbing with the movement. "What?" His voice is achingly small. "Angel I'm - Fine. If that's what you want. I'll go." He hears Crowley's glass hit the table with a sharp clink.

Aziraphale slowly turns to face Crowley then, one eyebrow raised, pressing his lips together to hide his triumphant smile.

Understanding and terror dawn on the demon's face.

"You!" Betrayal and relief fight a bloody battle on Crowley's expressive face, ending in a draw as Crowley drops his head back against the arm rest with a long, drawn-out hiss, his eyes slipping shut. He drains the rest of his whiskey in one go. "That'sss wicked, Angel."

"Ah, but you asked so nicely. It would have been rude to refuse the challenge." Aziraphale smiles fully then, ignoring Crowley's grumbling, removing his gloves and setting them gently on his desk. He rises, moving quietly across the floor until he can gaze down at his demon, the silly, silly serpent.

He lowers himself and climbs over the wiry body beneath him, earning him a small yelp of surprise as Aziraphale settles between his legs and wraps his arms around Crowley's middle, resting his chin in the middle of Crowley's chest.

"Is this what you wanted, my love?" Aziraphale says in a low voice, blinking innocently up at his big, tough, very scary demon.

Crowley scoffs, turning bright red to the tips of his ears, and Aziraphale could swear he saw the tiny snake tattoo squirm. "S'not funny." He growls, his fingers already carding gently through Aziraphale's curls, a soft smile forming at the corners of his mouth.

Aziraphale drops a chaste kiss on Crowley's sternum before nuzzling his cheek against his chest.

"I proved my point, though, didn't I? That's what you get for interrupting me while I'm working." Aziraphale sighs, breathing in the familiar tang of smoke and brandy, pulling it deep into his lungs, surrounding himself in Crowley.

"This is what I get, eh? I should never let you work again." Aziraphale can feel the smirk in his tone as Crowley's lips brush his hairline.

"I would love to see you try." Aziraphale challenges, a smile pulling at his lips.

Crowley huffs a quiet laugh, wrapping his arms around his Angel before planting a soft kiss on his forehead, lingering like a single violin note, the music sweet in Aziraphale's ears.

Perhaps the Brandenburg Concertos can wait.

[cloud-angel-chaser]

y'know that genre of crowley where he tricks aziraphale into thinking he's listening to classical music but in reality, he was listening to queen?

Tchaikovsky's "Another One Bites the Dust"

William Byrd's "We Are the Champions"

Beethoven's "I Want To Break Free"

Vaughan William's "Fat Bottomed Girls"

J. S. Bach's Mass in B Minor, vocals by F. Mercury

(they really said fat bottomed girls supremacy #exactly)

edit: so, i was made aware that crowley doesn't zimzalabim vavoom his way into making aziraphale into listening to queen but it's still fun to see.

[gallifreyshawkeye]

Chapter 8 of Reclaimed. I actually wrote an almost 11K chapter in a week, y'all! Boom! 😄

Summary:

Aziraphale accidentally discovers inconsistencies with the A(a)rchangel rosters and that there are potentially multiple archangels that have simply vanished. He also gets a message from Furfur who wants to meet, and the message is brought by an unknown angel who reminds Aziraphale so much of a certain red-haired angel that it can't be coincidence. Meanwhile, Crowley is pushed beyond his limits to the absolute brink by Satan and remembers a secret experiment he had worked on shortly after the Fall and that he had kept hidden in case he ever needed it. He hadn't for so long he had completely forgotten about it. Until now. And it might save his life.

Excerpt:

“Supreme Archangel! Sir!” 

Aziraphale turned around to see a breathless angel dressed in… khaki trousers with a black belt, a button-up sea-foam green shirt with rolled up shirt sleeves, a black tie, and dark grey shoes?! waving his hand to get Aziraphale’s attention while finishing jogging up to him from the opposite end of the long corridor. The angel leaned over as he reached Azirapale and rested his hands on his knees, catching his breath before standing back up and arching his shoulders back while taking a deep breath and finally settling into a normal posture.

“Whoo I should probably run more,” the angel said, “Hate running though. Frightfully boring. And so awful . I do not understand the humans and angels who do it on purpose. I mean, the idea sounds nice, especially the endurance running stuff. You know what I’m talking about? It’s where humans go for, like, 50, 100, 200 miles on purpose through, like, deserts and wilderness? Now that would be an accomplishment and super cool. But the training for that?! No. Couldn’t do it. Not in a million years. I bet demons don’t run on purpose. Ever. Or maybe they do because it’s awful. No, wait! I bet it’s, like, something they’d wager for the loser in a bet like, ‘I bet you 50 laps around the Infernal Pit that….’ uh, I’m not sure what demons would bet on. Maybe that one of them didn’t know that Beethoven actually did write a 10th symphony? He did, you know. Did you know that? But you get the idea. That’s how terrible running is.” The angel grimaced and took another deep breath like he needed to fill the very bottom of his lungs. “Whooo, that’s better!”

Aziraphale was staring in utter, boggled astonishment. Never in his existence had he met another angel like this one. Well, aside from Crowley-ish. When the demon was devoid of carrying the fate of the universe, this was not remarkably dissimilar to how Crowley could get on those rare occasions when he felt safe and uninhibited and got going on a subject he was passionate about whether it was passionately negative or positive. Who was this angel?! 

“Can I help you?” Aziraphale asked at last when the unknown angel in front of him didn’t say anything further and simply stood there, rocking back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels while absent mindedly swinging his arms and… humming? something under his breath.

“What? OH! Right! Yes!” The angel’s eyes jumped back from wandering around the large corridor to focused on Aziraphale’s vicinity like he’d completely forgotten that he’d been the one to grab Aziraphale’s attention in the first place.

[phantomram-b00]

So I’m planning a To hell with you sequel, (or maybe a comic version-). But I wanted to write a filler like episode in between. It could be read by itself, but I thought it be a filler. Hope you enjoy!

Just memories

“No way angel, you still have that Walkman I gave you?” Crowley snorted when he put his glasses on Aziraphale’s desk as he reads listening to his Walkman. “They stop making them back in two-thousand ten.”

“Well it ah more convenient” Aziraphale said shrugging. “I mean, I can listen to my musics while I’m on the go, can you imagine me carrying my Gramophone everywhere where just to hear my favorites down SoHo or by St. James park? Truly Crowley that would be terrible troublesome” Aziraphale chortled even thinking of such bizarre imagination.

“I’m just saying, you should invest in a mobile. That twice as convenient as a Walkman angel.” Crowley said picking it up a little. “What song are you even playing on this anyway?”

“Well. I change time to time. From Nina Simone, Elton John, ABBA, and more.”

“Elton John? You surprise me Angel. Would’ve thought you listen to instrumentals or snooze-fest all your life.”

“You Wily Serpent!” Aziraphale snickered as he’d lightly nudged Crowley. “You don’t hear me talking down about your uh bebops now do I?”

“Bastard” Crowley snickered. “But, I’m happy my uh gift from that day hold up.” He smiles putting the Walkman down. “Would’ve thought you stop using it.”

“Why would I? It was a gracious gifts. Also, it remind me of that night you know.” Aziraphale smiled looking at the Walkman. “I mean granted everything you have ever given me is delightful no matter how much you have how much I dote on it. I just, happy to have something to remind me of that wonderful night.”

They couldn’t have prevented their face from turning any redder. That night at the concert was indeed a night to remember even if it was back in the eighties. That night was filled with surprises, starting with aziraphale actually wanting to go with him to a rock concert all the way to when they kissed each other on the cheeks. Even more surprising is Aziraphale actually liking music that wasn’t from Mozart or Beethoven. Now, Aziraphale doesn’t go to all due to how loud they are and the setting can be overstimulating for him even with his Walkman; and Crowley would never ask him to go out of his comfort zone. Then again he wouldn’t dare to put him in a situation that would leave him in distress. So to him, it made him appreciate Aziraphale holding onto treasure memories.

“F-funny, I got you something.” Crowley said pulling something out of his pocket. It was wrapped in yellow wrapping. “Thought you might like them. Some are similar or some you might wanna try.”

“I thought you said-“

“Just a demonic miracle, angel” Crowley smirked as he (Aziraphale) opens up the gift. “I-if you don’t like it, I can uh always make them disappear.”

Aziraphale look at some of them. One of them called “I’ll follow you into the dark” by Death Cab for Cutie. Aziraphale tilted his head and softly snicker at the name. He then flip one over to the other small cassette this one called, “Just the two of us” by Grover Washington Jr. Aziraphale technically does have a record disc for his gramophone, would play it whenever he read his romances novels just picturing him and Crowley. Just the two of them. He smiled longingly. He then flip again to another cassette, “Your Song” by Elton John. He own two other cassette, one was “don’t go breaking my heart” and “goodbye yellow-brick road”. But your song he never exactly heart.

“Oh Crowley, thank you. Thank you.” Aziraphale said smiling. “However I’m not familiar with Death Cab for Cuties or even your song by Elton John.”

“Well, I try to pick songs that might be similar to songs you usually pick. But since you that picky I just choose these three to be safe.” Crowley said rubbing his head as his glasses was suddenly back on.

“Silly, why didn’t you just ask me” Aziraphale chuckled. “It could’ve help out-“

“Well maybe I wanted to surprise you. You usually like surprises.” Crowley said as he rolled his eyes behind his shades.

“Oh come on now, you don’t need to hide yourself” aziraphale scoffed as he toke off his glasses to see his favorite sunny eyes. “Thank you Anthony. I greatly appreciate it.” He then leaned over to press a soft kiss in the cheek. How crowley didn’t melt was a mystery even for himself.

“S-shush you!” Crowley said trying to turn away.

“Never” Aziraphale said as he giggled. Crowley couldn’t help but join in on his laughing. Hearing this contagious laughter was always his highlight of his day; his joyfulness was what he look forward too whenever they met again amongst other things. Then again, seeing him smile overall was what brighten his day.

“Well then” Crowley said as he wiped his tears. “Why don’t we head over to that restaurant you wanted to try, heard a table of two is miraculously opened for us.”

“Oh that’s delightful. Imma start bringing my Walkman! Maybe I can listen to the new songs! Come on.” Azirpahale said as he grabbed on some cassette and his Walkman as they head out the door. Laughter still filled the memories.

Right. Only just memories now.

how he wished he can relive that moment. Right now, he’s laying his head on his desk looking at his Walkman, tears streamed down his face yet no wails can be heard. Aziraphale can’t muster anything. He just feel numbed.

He look to his right and saw one cassette he never got to play. “I’ll follow you into the dark” by death cab for cutie.

“Right.” He said as he wiped his golden tears. “Never got to tell him I….” He gulped to push down more that’s coming up. “Well.. it wouldn’t matter regardless I suppose. But a listen won’t hurt right?”

So he proceeds to open up the Walkman and remove the song “don’t go breaking my heart” by Elton John and Kiki Dee. He scoffs as he hide the cassette inside his cluttered desk and place inside the new cassette. He put on his headphones and pressed play, and this time he couldn’t hold back as the song plays.

Reference to where the Walkman came from.