#SNAKE. i know it was the m25

[frappe-the-peppermint]

your tagging system is absolutely maniac…………….how can you remember all thos eemojis. i can barely remember my ao3 bookmarking system…

um. i kind of just hope they autofill ngl ... at SOME point im going 2 remember them. probably.

[sonkitty]

God Narration Name Finding (Good Omens)

For a project idea I have, I wanted to double-check that Crowley never says the word "game" in season 1 of Good Omens.

So, I transcribed all of season 1 for my own reference. If there is a transcription out there somewhere by someone else, I don't know where it is.

In any case, this project idea is not the only reason I wanted this transcription.

I regularly check the GO2 transcripts when I want to see how many times a given word is said across the whole season or a given episode. In turn, something like that would be useful for season 1.

So, with that in mind, along with other posts I've read since watching Good Omens 2, some questions came to mind. Specifically, I wanted to know the number of times God said certain names.

For example, I suspected God says Adam's name the most out of anyone. I wondered if there was a difference between how often she says Crowley's name and Aziraphale's. On the surface, it seems like Crowley's name is used more, but I wanted to check. Among past posts I've read in mind, and that I can't find easily at the moment, was that God doesn't narrate Madame Tracy's scenes. So, what else does She not say or not narrate?

Here are some answers...hoping that I haven't made glaring errors in this venture. I will make corrections if I ever find a mistake, and I do make mistakes, as a general reminder.

Of all the speaking characters in the Good Omens season 1 storyline, God says Crowley's name the most. She says "Crowley" 16 times.

Second to that is Adam. God says Adam's name...11 times. That alerts me that yes, the writing anticipated a curious reader just might check these things. Adam gets the 11 because he turns 11 years old during the story.

Aziraphale's number is interesting. God says "Aziraphale" 7 times, but 2 of those times are not Her narration. She addresses Aziraphale directly by name twice at the start of episode 3, Hard Times. That is the only time we see Her speak directly to any character during season 1. However, there is a little bonus if you take the time to double-check the name-finding you're doing, or have a really good memory for this sort of thing. I was double-checking for other names in general when I noticed this one. God says, "Azerafel," in describing Nostradamus signing a book for Aziraphale. With the bonus, the name is said 8 times.

God says the word "demon" 7 times and the word "angel" 7 times. Of those times that "angel" is said, one of them is not during the narration. It's when she addresses Aziraphale in episode 3, as the Angel of the Eastern Gate.

For place names, there is a bit of a countdown from 7 to 3. "London" is said the most at 7 times. "Hell" is next for 6 times. "Tadfield" is said 5 times. "Earth" is said 4 times. Which places gets the 3? "Heaven".

Speaking of Heaven, God does not narrate in Heaven. God also does not name the other angels. She does not narrate any of Aziraphale's scene with the Metatron in the bookshop either. God narrates Hell when explaining Crowley's role in designing the M25. She does use Hastur's name three times but not any other demons.

When it comes to the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, she says Death, as a name, twice, then each of the others is named once (War, Famine, Pollution).

The naming of the Them, who are not Adam, does not match this pattern. The names "Pepper" and "Wensleydale" are said 3 times. The name "Brian" is only said 2 times.

Both these groups have an association with the number 4 and Armageddon. God says "Armageddon" and "Horsemen" 4 times.

Among things unsaid is that God never says "Crawley," "snake" or "serpent." She never says "Anthony". As for any input on me from the "16" itself for Crowley's name, the first thing that occurs to me is that 16 is 8×2. Otherwise, visually "1" for "season 1" and "6" because that number is strongly associated with Crowley, from me, in watching season 2. His coffee is six shots of espresso. He has six Threshold Tricks.

God references who Newt is once, as the great-great-great-great-great grandson of Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery Pulsifer. She never says the name "Newt". That's also the only time She says "Pulsifer".

She never says "Madame Tracy". As stated earlier, she does not narrate Madame Tracy's scenes at all. Edit, new part added here: Or rather, she does not narrate any scenes focused on Madame Tracy. Madame Tracy is present during one of the bigger ensemble scenes that God narrates. It's the one that starts with, "It was time to decide who your friends were." (end new part)

The very last time God references Crowley by name is when She explains to us that he has something no other demons have: an imagination.

In keeping with the story's love for the Rule of Three, I'll now give you the remaining found "3"s for names in God's narration of season 1.

Remember, I've already remarked on these:

Pepper: 3 Wensleydale: 3 Hastur: 3 Heaven: 3

Here are some more:

Deirdre: 3 God: 3 Shadwell: 3 Sister Mary: 3 Young: 3 Antichrist: 3 M25: 3 Sunday: 3

And if you want the full list of all the name counts I've logged, all you gotta do is ask.

[fatestitcherr]

what are key symbols/ items/ things you associate with each of aziraphale and crowley?

i’m planning a crocheted sweater vest, with each square holding something that reminds me of good omens. the current plan is to have 6 squares for aziraphale, 6 for crowley, 6 for them together, and 5 for everyone else.

as such, i want to make a list of things to put on the vest!

current ideas:

halo (az)

white wings (az)

stack of books (both)

snake eyes (crowley)

black wings (crowley)

bentley (crowley)

apple (crowley; not sure about this tho)

spaceship (general)

flask of holy water (both)

m25 road sign (crowley)

dick turpin car (general)

sushi (az)

let me know if you think i’ve missed anything!!!

(this is the pattern im basing my ideas off)

[mightstaywhoknows]

I have ADHD so every now and then I would forgot what I'm doing and have to ask myself how did I got myself here.

And today was Good omens

I've been in love with Good omens for i think about a year or two now. But how? when did it all start? I didn't read book, no one told me about the book or film. I didn't saw any fanarts. I knew nothing about the actors and the writers. No ads, no news, nothing informed me about its existance.

Strange huh.

So how? Did someone wiped my memory and made me watch this?

No. It was some dumbest and most beautiful revelation.

It all started with The umbrella academy as vines and crack videos

So

After watching those videos I clicked on a Good Omens as Vines video (great job from youtube algorithm). At that time I was clueless i didn't know who adam or anathema or sister mary loquacious or the Them was. All I remember was that adam was a demonic crazy little shit and crowley was a gay snake and there was Death, Pollution and the Nazis and Satan and the M25???

Loved the chaotic vibe from it so I kept watching what ever was on the list that youtube could throw at me. And at some point of it I stared to see memes about Good omens on Pinterest as well (they were definitely selling my info).

Good omens memes and screenshot of tumblr post about good omens started flooding my board. So i've been reading all kinds of brilliant jokes and cinematic/character analysis and lores about the bible, god, heaven and hell. I knew everything about it before I even watch it, or at least ... I think so.

I remember reading heart wrenching analysis of crowley's emotional and character arch and seeing memes about how god was setting an angel and a demon up for eachother for 6000 years and they are both so dumb and that's me not knowing a single thing about the actual plot or the faces of the characters.

Ofc soon pinterest also show their faces but in forms of memes. I didn't know who was who? Most likely I didn't care. Till one day I've cared enough to go and watch the movie.

And that all happen before I got to tumblr.

[meltingpenguins]

hi, maybe its time to step back and take a breath. its ok if u hate good omens! its ur opinion and ur free to do whatever with it! but u cant control whether gaiman wrote another season, or whether other people like it or make art of it. maybe its time to just filter and block good omens tag and move on with ur life. there are still so many other art and stuff for u to discover, and u might find something u actually like!

This will be a long answer:

I don't hate Good Omens. I *love* Good Omens. The book is a constant source of joy and inspiration.

The radio play was a bit weird to me, but it's nevertheless immensely enjoyable.

I can't say anything about the graphic novel yet, but so far it looks good and solid. The only criticism for that I can give so far is that imo it's a little disappointing we got Crowley and Aziraphale in human-shapes in Eden again, when a drawn medium opened up a lot of possibilities for going wild with 'biblically accurate angel' and giant demonic snake. it's a case of YMMV.

No, I love Good Omens. What I hate is that show on amazon with the same name, because that is not Good Omens. Sure, the names are the same and Neil Gaiman is writing the script, but it still is not Good Omens. Because the core of it is missing, the heart.

That is what's making me so angry.

Of course, when you adapt any given story from page to a different medium, there will be changes. Take a moment very early on in the radioplay, when they gave Hastur a mobile phone so he could call up Crowley, leading to Crowley expositioning about the M25. Is it a little clunky? Sure, but for the medium it works.

The show, however, seems to make changes that make no sense for the story or medium.

Now, I give you this: It is unfair of me to lash out at Mr Gaiman like this, for which I apologise. I do not know what made him make these changes. It could, of course and in the worst case, be ignorance and malice. But malicious demands from amazon (after all, the book is very, very, very anti-establishment, if you want, and book!Crowley has no love for people like bezos) could very well be the reason just like being simply at a loss and throwing in whatever's deemed 'will make fans happy'.

We don't know. So, for the lashing out, I do apologize.

But for the criticism, that stands. Because the show is going in directions that are very much the polar opposite of the book.

The book is about humanity, about choice, and how we ALL matter. How there are no chosen ones, how we all have a part in shaping history. Names that go down in history do so because of the actions of many, not because they were predestined to do so.

Which is an amazing, refreshing and, most importantly, hopeful message, that's especially these days needed more than ever it would seem. Look around, how many people think that their actions don't matter because of, amongst others, people like bezos.

But look what the WGA strike accomplished. It was the actions of many, not just those at the picket line, but the support from fans, from all around the world.

But the show? The show is the opposite. Not only does it constantly demean the working class (Crowley likening Lucifer's rebellion to workers' unions so thinly veiled it's fishnet, or now the whole declaring demons (who in the book were akin to the working class while Heaven was posh upper class, and the book very much sided with the working class) especially too dumb to deserve to live (this very much reeks of meddling from amazon, unless Mr Gaiman really is that much of a pretentious, aloof asshole and it's been done on purpose... and seeing how he talks 'bout demons now...)) it also makes Crowley out to be the chosen one type who cannot do wrong. Even when this Crowley messes up, it's always exactly the right thing. Because Crowley did it. With Aziraphale it's the opposite. He can't do right. He has been reduced down to the bumbling, dim sidekick with a crush on the amazing genius chosen one (sound familiar?)

Why? There is nothing in the medium that would have required these changes.

But it gets worse. Both seasons, I give you that, have their good ideas:

Having Crowley and Az return to the bookshop after the birthday party, showing the two throughout history, Muriel, expanding the denizens of Heaven and Hell, yes, those are great ideas. But they are all not used as well as they could.

It's just baffling. The whole show has this bizarre vibe of hating the fans. As if we are (like demons) too dumb to deserve to live. It's what I ramble about. When the show's cinematography decides to frame scenes so supposed eastereggs cannot be missed, when the pacing is off and the editing makes little sense.

What I can give you (and Mr Gaiman) and will do so, is that the script-book for s1 (never checked if there's one for s2) is doing much better. The pacing is more even, the characters are better fleshed out, the flow of the story makes a lot more sense. So what happened?

As said initially, it might be a lot of things, none of them good.

And then we get crass changes to personality and all with characters like beelzebub and the explanation isn't just flimsy, it's frightening. Beelzebub has been stepford-wifed. Suddenly, supposedly by 'the power of love' they're submissive, cozy-wozy, caring, etc.

Love doesn't do that. people don't do a complete 180 just cause they're 'in love' especially when there's been almost no common ground

Beelzebub and Gabriel had their position in their respective companies, and an air of 'wanting to bite people's heads off', but what we have on the show now is nothing that builds up on that. It's really just catering to the fans that were the loudest. The people that are now so eager pairing off demons and angels to 'fix' demons.

Which is simply frightening. Especially looking at how they justify it, what they declare romantic in a distinct 'this is romantic in fiction AND IRL' way.

And then there's everything else of s2: Nothing. There's no plot, there's actions to pad out 5 3/4 episodes, but everything feels very 'throw everything and the kitchen sink at the wall, but don't wait what sticks'. Which, yes, could absolutely be amazon's fault again.

It really feels as if the whole season was only there to have the '6-6-8' pattern in the end.

And it makes me angry.

It's great that the WGA won with flying colours, but no matter what you, anon, or I may think about what s3 might bring, you have to admit that what we have right now isn't much of a solid foundation, even if there can now be proper rewrites, more input (so better sounding boards etc)

It makes me sad, it makes me furious, because it is such a great book, and I'm one of those people I want to understand why things happen.

Anon, you can message me again if you want to talk further (this goes for everyone), but to conclude:

I love Good Omens the book, I'd LOVE to see it adapted to screen proper, I love the creativity of the fandom, but so much of that is now found outside of the the show fans. Which... shouldn't be. We were a weird and creative bunch, even after s1. People began looking into mythology and history to produce amazing works, but now? Now it feels as if people and show try to snuff out every glimmer of creativity, any given bit that isn't 100% the shows canon. When the show itself can't even stick to continuity.

So, as said, you want to talk, my ask box is open. If not, as snarky as this may sound, I'd say practice what you preach and simply block the 'good omens critical' tag, that's what I tag my rambling for.

In any case, stay safe, stay healthy, don't lick the walls (see, told you there's stuff I like)

PS: I do my own stuff, both fanfic and original wise, don't worry.

[soupandtissues]

Behold My Stuff

An ongoing collection of my writings about making various characters miserable for my own amusement enjoy!

Good Omens

A Demon Suffers an Angel Helps - Aziraphale is nice to Crowley when he’s sick Crowley likes that 

Art Inspired - Crowley gets sick after the failed apocalypse.

Art Inspired -  Crowley sneeze dials Aziraphale

Art Inspired - 70s Crowley works on the M25

A Yellow Wood - Crowley with fall allergies

Aziraphale has an old fashioned footbath to help his cold

Aziraphale runs into Crowley at an Inn

Aziraphale and Crowley argue, but then Crowley doesn’t come back to apologize

Aziraphale needs a favour

Blankets and Warm Drinks

Chicken Soup for the Bureaucratic Soul

Crowley and Aziraphale meet at a Roman bath and Part 2

Crowley catches Aziraphale’s cold and tries not to wake him 

Crowley doesn’t like to sneeze but he likes it when Aziraphale does

Crowley gets sick while living in his car

Crowley has a cute sneeze

Crowley has to cancel plans with Aziraphale

Crowley is sick and needs a hug

Crowley is sick on an important date

Early to Bed - Crowley gets the flu the world fails to care 

Fragile - Crowley isn’t quite sure how to be vulnerable around his angel anymore

Going Too Fast - Crowley wakes up on the second third day of his holiday in Paris with Aziraphale and isn’t feeling well

Harsh Crowley and Aziraphale return from the Ritz 

Hiss or Lack There of - Crowley has a cough Aziraphale doesn’t believe him

Indulgent Inducing

More Inducing

Listless - Aziraphale tends to snake Crowley

Naga Crowley

No Rest for the Wicked - Crowley is having a rough day and seeks shelter at the bookshop  

Our Bookshop - Only Aziraphale is allowed to hear Crowley sneeze unstifled

Tissues

Titanic AU - Female Crowley and Aziraphale with sneezing while hiding

Two by Two - Crawly brings a cold virus on the ark

Saint Aziraphale Slaying the Dragon - Sir Aziraphale is sent to fight a dragon who turns out to be an ailing Crowley  

Scotland did not agree with Aziraphale

Sick in an Inconvenient Place Gabriel and Beelzebub meet at the pub 

Sniffles and Reading in Bed

Speechless - Crowley loses his voice and needs another way to tell Aziraphale he’s been under the weather

Sore Throat

Wessex - Sir Aziraphale fights the black knight.  Crowley forgets to mention he’s sick 

When it Rains it Pours - Crowley and Aziraphale get caught in a rainstorm

Whoever Invented Christmas Trees Should be Drug Out into the Street and Shot - Crowley and Aziraphale decorate a Christmas tree

Legend of Korra

Solitude - Lin Beifong

Loki

Aftershocks - Loki loses control of his magic when he’s sick

A Cold for Three - Loki/Mobius/Sylvie -  The trio share a cold and get small comforts to help with the misery

Am I Good Enough - Loki/Mobius/Sylvie - Loki has a cold and his lovers find that frustrating Part 2

Fireplace - Thor AU Thor is a good brother to King Loki Part 2 Part 3

Falling Asleep by accident in a Warm Place - Loki/Mobius/Sylvie

Favourite - Loki and Sylvie are sick and trying not to wake Mobius

Injury - Loki in the woods

Support Systems - Time slipping countless times is bound to leave a body a mess afterwards as Loki finds out

Star Trek TOS

Indulgences - a collection of fics loosely tied together under the same tag starting here mostly Kirk/Spock focused 

McSpirk Drabbles

Embarrassment

Headache

Lonely

Itch

Warmth

Rain

Star Trek AOS

Caring for the Caregiver - Kirk/McCoy McCoy is a doctor taking care of a ship full of idiot children they aren’t supposed to take care of him

Spock knows what to do when one is sick: work anyway

McSpirk Drabbles

Memories

Jealous

Handkerchief

Relationship

Confess

Dinner for Three

Hold Back

Affection

Hoarse

Shower

Stress

Bed

Control

Apologize

Immune

Caught in the Act

Exhausted

Headcold

[bonnie-bug]

okay so. good omens ratatouille theory. it being of course that the demons are not just wearing animal aspects but that they ARE the animal aspects which are piloting the corporations beneath them a’la remy ratatouille. and crowley, famously, does Not have a snake riding around on his head, but rather one as a tattoo on his face. which we know can move around as he/it pleases

we also know of course that when crowley gets stressed he loses control of his corporation a bit, namely his eyes lose their white sclera and go full snakey

headcanon/you-cant-tell-me-it’s-not-canon-you-have-no-proof-it-isnt: crowley, with his extreme skill in harnessing his imagination for a demon, has shoved his aspect down into a simple tattoo to blend in better with humanity. but, if sufficiently stressed, crowley would also lose control of his snake aspect in the same way he loses control of his eyes, and it would return to a three-dimensional snake writhing around on his head

of course given that he survived aziraphale’s death-or-rather-discorporation, the trip thru the burning m25, and facing down Literal Actual Satan without losing control more than just letting his eyes go a little snaked out I have no fucking clue what would stress him out to that degree and frankly I dont want to bc it’d likely have to be a fair amount beyond my usual boundaries for angst and that makes me too sad kdbdvdkd

more of a hurt/comfort fluff alternative I guess? post-apocalypse aziraphale and he get together and aziraphale is VERY tactile in his affection and crowley is so touch starved he doesnt know how to handle it and gets so flustered his snake pops out. which then prompts aziraphale to compliment how pretty the little snake looks curled up at crowley’s ear which flusters him more bc that’s HIM that’s Proper Him aziraphale is complementing which makes him lose even more control over his snake self which makes it more noticeable which makes him flustered which makes it harder to control which makes him flustered which makes it harder to control which makes him flustered whi

by the time crowley gets the vicious cycle stopped he’s fully manifested as a four foot snake wrapped around his corporation’s head and he didnt revert to his full snake form only bc he’s holding aziraphale’s hand during this and if he was a snake he couldnt do that. but aziraphale’s continued compliments on the subtle rainbow sheen of his scales is making it a near thing

[gentlemancrow]

36 for jon and melanie friendship

OH THIS ONE WAS FUN THANK YOU! Snarky friendship banter my beloved ; w ; I HOPE YOU ENJOY! <3

“Need a ride?”

A war waged inside Jon on three fronts, turbulent and bloody behind tortured brown eyes and lips pressed into a thin, scandalized line. On one side, he did, as a matter of fact, need a ride. He had uncovered a rather tantalizing lead on a statement he had been working on, but it just so happened to be too far to walk and a veritable nightmare on the tube that time of day. On the second front, the one who had asked, all smug snake-bite piercing grin behind fading cyan bangs and way too much kohl inked onto her hooded eyelids, was Melanie King. Though she still looked at him like she’d rather be flaying his face off with her teeth, a certain upperhanded smugness crept across those painted black lips. On the last front, not only was it Melanie, but it was Melanie astride a rumbling, sputtering motorcycle, battered red helmet with its visor up on her head and wearing a well-loved leather jacket about three sizes too big in the spiked shoulders that read ‘If you can read this, the bitch fell off’ on the back, unzipped and loose.

Jon’s lips parted, about a thousand different questions, criticisms, and quips ready to flow off his tongue at once. Melanie’s hand shot up in the air between them.

“Wait, hold it. I know exactly what you’re about to say.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Jon snapped irritably, “Have you developed some sort of extrasensory perception by proxy since joining the institute or no wait, let me guess… you’re about to make some crack about me being so predictable you don’t actually need ESP to know what I’m going to say?”

“Hah! By George he’s got it! And you didn’t even need your creepy little powers for that one,” Melanie cackled, “So let me spare us both your predictably predictable tight-assed whingeing about it. Yes, it’s mine. I bought it off a friend, all above board. No, I don’t actually have a class A license or whatever, but who cares? I am patently not interested in hearing whatever gruesome traffic fatality statistic for motorbikes you just so happen to have for whatever horrific reason off the top of your head, and the jacket is funny, lighten up.”

Jon opened and closed his mouth a few times, feeling rather like a fish out of water, gulping for answers in an atmosphere he knew full well he had no use for.

“Well, you missed one,” he sniffed finally, crossing his arms over his chest, “I was also going to ask how many CCs?”

Melanie patted the side of the bike like a loyal steed.

“About 500! 6-speed transmission, two cylinders, hardly any miles on it, purrs like a kitten.”

“Nice, so zero to sixty in about…?”

“About three seconds flat! Decent torque for a bike this size, or at least that’s what my friend told me. Not going to sweep at the Isle of Man or anything, but it’ll get you where you want to go without mucking up that gammy leg of yours,” Melanie sneered, though her eyes flicked just briefly down at the limb in question.

Jon shifted his weight onto it, then off again as he cleared his throat.

“Alright, alright Top Gear. You do at least have a spare helmet for me, right?” he groused, flourishing a hand.

“First of all, how do you even know what Top Gear is? Secondly, if you say anything that even slightly resembles ‘safety first’ I’m chucking you off on the M25,” Melanie snickered viciously as she chucked the spare helmet into Jon’s chest.

He caught it with a thud and a grunt against his sternum, scowling and scrunching up his nose.

“Seriously? Why does everyone always assume I live under a rock or something? You’d have to be dead for 100 years to not know what Top Gear is, and even then I wouldn’t be shocked in the least if there’s a statement in there somewhere about someone’s dearly departed granddad rising from the dead just to catch the new series.”

Melanie only laughed.

“It’s a well-known fact sweater vests and neckties suppress and or invalidate any pop culture references, Jon. Get with the program.”

“I- What?” he spluttered.

“Just shut up and get on and tell me where we’re going and what my budget is for dinner,” urged Melanie exasperatedly, “And before we both die of exhaust inhalation.”

“Wait what? Dinner? Who said anything about dinner? I didn’t say anything about dinner,” Jon protested as he donned his helmet and picked his way daintily onto the back of the bike.

“Petrol or dinner, you’re paying for one. You pick.”

The engine revved as Jon’s arms snaked timidly around Melanie’s sturdy waist in preparation to hold on for dear life.

“Fine, I’m pretty sure there’s a decent kebab place around there.”

“Cheapskate,” Melanie teased as she handed over her phone with the GPS app already open.

Jon grunted as he punched in the address, hit navigate, and handed the device back to Melanie over her shoulder.

“You don’t know what any of those motorbike words you just said actually mean, do you?”

“Nope, haven’t the foggiest. How’d you know to ask about the CCs?”

“Top Gear,” Jon answered with a smirk.

“Nerd,” Melanie snorted, flipping down her visor.

“Shut up and drive.”

[puffinsional]

hey! so in honor of good omens’ 30th anniversary and the drama’s 1st anniversary, here’s something i’ve been working on and off for about a year now...

presenting our side, a good omens story playlist!

i was inspired after coming across so many fantastic songs that work for aziraphale and crowley (many from listening to other peoples’ playlists, actually) and i thought it would be interesting to recount their entire journey through those songs. my goal was to make it feel like you were listening to the story just by listening to the playlist.

you can listen to the playlist on spotify or youtube! track list, lyric links, and story markers are under the cut.

special thanks to @rcmclachlan, @askazicro, and other good omens playlist makers for helping me discover many of these songs. i’m also including their playlists/tags under the cut if you wanna check out even more songs! also thank you to thomas ginnona for some classic rock consultation.

extra special thanks to my fantastic friend @humananalytica for helping me this entire time i’ve been working on this, sending me songs to listen to, helping bounce off ideas and give a second opinion every time i pester her, beta-ing, and for just in general being someone i can share my love of good omens with.

i’ve worked really hard on it so i’d be delighted if y’all can give it a listen! thank you very much!! m(_ _)m

TRACK LIST:

OVERTURE: A Tale of an Angel and a Demon

“Come With Me” - Chxrlotte

“A Rainy Night in Soho” - The Pogues

“I'll See Your Heart and I'll Raise You Mine” - BellX1

ACT I: The History of the World, Before the Armageddon

It Starts With a Garden

“From Eden” - Hozier 

"I'm With You" - Vance Joy

“An Act of Kindness” - Bastille

Hereditary Enemies

“Iris” - Goo Goo Dolls

"Losing Battles" - Josh Ritter

Policy Decisions

"The Garden" - The Crane Wives

“A Thousand Years” - Sting

"The Only Way (Hymn)" - Emerson, Lake, & Palmer

"Antichrist" - The 1975

Invitations

"Valentine" - Hope Tala

"Sit Next to Me" - Foster the People

"Try to Be" - Bonny Doon

The Arrangement

"Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)" - Kate Bush

"Heads/tails" - Hotspur

"Walk Across the Water" - The Black Keys

Fraternizing

"How Does a Duck Know?" - Crash Test Dummies

"Monster" - Pomplamoose & dodie

“Chasing Twisters” - Delta Rae

Sorry, Consecrated Ground

“Do I Wanna Know?” - Arctic Monkeys

"What Kind of Man" - Florence + The Machine

A Bag of Prophecy Books

"The Thief" - Brooke Fraser

“Who Is In Your Heart Now?” - Studio Killers

“I Can't Behave” - Caravan of Thieves

“Devil's Backbone” - The Civil Wars

A Thermos Full of Holy Water

"Pick U Up" - Foster the People

“Holy Water” - Tommy Newport

“Waiting for the Miracle” - Leonard Cohen

Slowing Down

“How Long” - Matchbox Twenty

Delivering the Antichrist

"So Desperate" - The Mountain Goats

"The Things We Do For Love" - 10cc

“Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” - Queen

Purely Social

“Drink!” - They Might Be Giants

"Heroes" - David Bowie

The Gardener and the Nanny

"Keep Her Closer" - Swimming Tapes

"Snakes and Lovers" - Spandau Ballet

"Five Years" - David Bowie

Harry the Rabbit

“Just Like Heaven” - The Cure

"1999" - Prince

"Someone's Missing" - MGMT

The Naming

"Apocalypse Please" - Muse

"London Calling" - The Clash

INTERLUDE: Crowley Yells at Some Plants

“Music to Soothe the Savage Snake Plant” - Mort Garson

ACT II: The World Has Started to End

To a Little Village in Oxfordshire

“Absolutely No Decorum” - The Ark

“Ride” - Clans

Tip-Top Shape

“Damn Your Eyes” - Etta James

Four Letter Words

"I Am Not a Robot" - Marina and the Diamonds

"When You Die" - MGMT

Velocipede

"Pedal Your Blues Away" - R. Crumb and the Cheap Suit Serenaders

Foolish Principalitie

"Put Down the Duckie" - Sesame Street

"Baby Blue Eyes" - Peter the Human Boy

"666 Conducer" - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

The Third Alternative Rendezvous

"Just Between You and Me" - Lou Gramm

“End Love” - OK Go

"Allies or Enemies" - The Crane Wives

“Stomach It” - Crywolf

“December” - Collective Soul

It's Over

"Leaves" - Gregory and the Hawk

“Silence & Sirens” - The Narrative

"Drowning Shadows" - Sam Smith

A Plea (If She's Listening)

“Bad Blood” - Sleeping At Last

The Lords of Hell

"Warrant" - Foster the People

“What If the Storm Ends? (The Lightning Strike, Part I)” - Snow Patrol

Alpha Centauri

“Something Happened on the Way to Heaven” - Phil Collins

“Origin of Love” - Mika

"Eternally Missed" - Muse

“Flowers for a Ghost” - Thriving Ivory

God's Spokesperson

“The Truth” - Foster the People

"All These Things I've Done" - The Killers

How to Navigate

“Gravity” - The fin.

"Dear Wormwood" - The Oh Hellos

“Hold the Line” - Toto

No Longer Keeping Score

“Hurts Like Hell” - Fleurie

"Can't Smile Without You" - Sleeping At Last (cover of Carpenters)

“Never” - Seira Kagami*

Aziraphale's Plan

“The Sunlight Through the Flags (The Lightning Strike, Part II)” - Snow Patrol*

“Sure as Hell Not Jesus” - Cosmo Jarvis

Crowley Drives Through the Flaming M25

"Get Yourself Together" - The Black Keys

“Burnin' For You” - Blue Oyster Cult

"Dreams and Disasters" - Owl City

Things That R.P. Tyler Would Like to Say (But Can't)

“You're On Fire” - They Might Be Giants

Aziraphale and Crowley Watch the Others Stop the Apocalypse

“Dream Sweet in Sea Major” - Miracle Musical

Adam's Satanic Father

"Hells Bells" - AC/DC

“Get It Together” - Mystery Skulls

Beside You

“The One Moment” - OK Go

“Daybreak (The Lightning Strike, Part III)” – Snow Patrol*

Agnes Nutter's Last Prophecy

"Butterflies and Hurricanes" - Muse

If You'd Like

"Breakfast Square" - Hana Vu

"Landscapes" - Gregory and the Hawk

The Swap

“Heaven or Hell” - Digital Daggers

Holy Water and Hellfire

"Crossfire" - Brandon Flowers

“Sinners” - Lauren Aquilina

Temptation Accomplished

“In Our Bedroom After the War” - Stars

"Heaven Is a Place on Earth" - Belinda Carlisle

CONCLUSION: The Very First Day of the Rest of Their Lives

“First Day of My Life” - Bright Eyes (covered by Jesse Daniel Smith)

“Nobody” - Hozier

"Our House" - Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young

“A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” - Vera Lynn

* indicates a song that’s only included in the YouTube playlist

Sources: rc’s music tag/playlist, askazicro music tag/community playlist, michael sheen’s hardcore gomens playlist, other referenced playlists (x x x). also my local cvs. yes really

[nemesisadraste]

Good Omens : What if Shadwell had never enter the bookshop that day?

This is a little OS fanfic im which Shadwell has accepted Madame Tracy's money and even went to Newt rescue with her. Therephore, he never went to Aziraphale bookshop resulting his entrance in the portal and the fire. So how does thing goes in this setting?

Aziraphale had just tells the Metatron he was on his way and called Crowley. He was really suprise about how Crowley ended the call saying "Not a good time I have a friend over." ... What did that mean? Why would he had friends over at a time like this when the world was ending in a few hours and he had planned to go to Alpha Century?... Were they really a friend? Was it a way to tell him he wasn't his friend anymore after the bandstand fight and his multiple refusal to go off with him? Was he in danger?... All those questions were running around his head and he needed an awnser... The only way to have them is to go check himself.

So he tooks Agnes book and he was on his way... But just as he was opening the door he reminds of the portal... It was still open. The angel couldn't possibly leave it that way unsupervise it could be dangerous. The only way for it to close was that someone or something with enough power went inside it and as there was no way he ever goes back to Heaven, he add to think of something else... Something like... Yes exactly this!

He took a piece of old paper and write something on it with an as old ink. Then he trows the paper in the portal. The energy of the portal shatter it in thousend of pieces but the message on it rest intact and arrive perfectly at it's destination :

Count me out.

Three little words. Probably he scariest he had ever write but it was a relief to finally express them. He was now on his own but that didn't matter. Cause for the first time he was free and for the first time he aknowledge he wasn't alone. Well... If Crowley could forgive him this time.

A few minutes later he was at the Demon's flat and he catch him on his way out. He didn't had the time to knock that the door opened to revels a familiar face

Crowley : Angel!

Aziraphale : Hello dear! Everything is allright? our last call was a bit strange to me... Hope I'm not actually disrupting a friends reunion...

Crowley : Oh that? No don't worry it was just Ligur and Hastur being their usual assholes selves I took care of them.

Aziraphale : What?! Hell sended them to get you?! Did they hurt you?! Hownyou allright?!

Crowley : Relax Angel everything is just fine. Ligur got a taste of the Holy water you gave me in 1967 and Hastur is having a blast in my message recorder tape.

Aziraphale : Oh... Ok... anyway I wanted to apologies, I lied to you about the Antechrist, I know where it is and it was so foolish of me cause you were absolutly there is no one to reach out to up there. She didn't even take my call I only had the Metatron and he is as pro armageddon than all the others Archangels, nothing else never mattered to them, not the humans, nor the earth, nor anything else in the whole creation... Nor even me, but thats not really a shocker.

Crowley : I'm sorry to hear that. All of that really matter to me though youvknow that right?

Aziraphale : Really? Even me? After all I did to you?

Crowley : Espetially you angel. You have nothing to apologise for I swear. In fact I'm the one who own you an apologie. I should have been more comprehensive of what you were getting trough... I putted you in probably the biggest loyalty conflict ever and then harass you to choose me and give up when I know how much this world mean to you... You're a guardian afterall... Very sorry for that.

Aziraphale : Well everything is tickety-boo now! After my chat with the Metatron I message Heaven to count me out so there is no conflict anymore. In fact I think that in my heart there never was. (He smile after the last line. It is the sweetest, the purest and the quickest smile to ever exist).

There is a pause after that as they both need to fully realise was that mean. What this whole conversation means.

Crowley : Does that mean you changed your mind for Alpha Century?

Aziraphale : Well no. At least not before we try something to stop all that!

Crowley : Ok... What do you suggest? He got his full powers now he won't be that easy to stop.

Aziraphale : I know someone who might have just what we need.

Crowley : Really who?

Aziraphale : Sergent Shadwell, he is the commander of the humans I told you about the...

Crowley : The witchfinder army?

Aziraphale : Yes you know them?

Crowley : Well yeah those are my guys too!

Aziraphale : Seriously?! What an odd coïncidence... Anyway let go see him. We have to be quick tough if we wanna be able to get out of London.

Crowley : What do you mean?

Aziraphale take Agnes book and opens it to prophecy 4781 and show it to Crowley. The prophecy says :

Prophecy 4781 On the final day when the home of the Big Ben will be 3 hours late of their noon appointements, a ring of evil fire will trap the old smoke in it's center. Thou can all thank the snake for that (ok the last sentence I'm not sure Agnes would actually write that I just wanted to add it for the fun lol 🤣)

Crowley : Shit, shit, shit I had totally forgot about the M25 thing... Shit!

Aziraphale : Well no time to stop this part now so we gotta hurry. We only have half an hour to go search for a weapon and go out of London.

Crowley : A weapon you mean...

Aziraphale : Exactly. We don't have other options now. Not if he decide to go on with it.

Crowley : Ok.

Aziraphale : What?

Crowley : Nothing I'm just suprise this comes from you.

Aziraphale : Yeah me too.

They take the Bentley (of curse) and go too Shadwell apartment but find it empty of it's occupant. They enter regardless (no time to wait) and take the weapon (the same they tok on the show I don't remember the name). When they are out they only got 10 minutes left before the M25 cast in fire so Aziraphale doesn't mind Crowley speed at all. He does miracle the Bentley to be gost like so he doesn't hit anything on the way. Crowley finds it funny and take advantage of it to show his angel how fast the Bentley can really go and he is extremly happy about it. When they finnaly go out he break as a reflex after all the adrenaline and thats when the fire rings light up. Crowley looks back and say :

Crowley : Wow... It worked! Shit... You imagine being stuck in this like an idiot? 🤣🤣🤣

Crowley starts driving again and they arrive in Taddefield american airbase in advance for Armageddon despite having to ask directions to a nice old man. The Horsepeople are already there, but not the Them. Not the Antechrist.

Aziraphale was going to talk to the security guard who was waithing for their explanations when suddently the Bentley cast in fire and explode to ashes and everyone turns to look at the pile of burning metals.

Crowley : MY CAR!!!!!... 90 years without a single crash and now this!!! How?! What?! Who?!

An evil form gets out of the shadow smiling better than it never had. With it's hidious dark grey-green raincoat and a literraly frog on his head he was immediatly recognisable.

Crowley : Hastur. How was your time in my message tape?

Hastur : Not fun. But not as not fun as will be the rest of your existance. (He add this while smiling even better, eviler) Hell will...

Security guard (shacking, affraid and unconfident just like in the show) : Ok all of you stay right where you are and put your hands in the air! I will call backups and they'll take care of you! In the mean time if you dare move I swear I'll shoot you! Starting by you red hair guy with the explosive car!

Hastur had no time for humans bullshit and cast the human to a painfull instant combustion in the horrored eyes of the angel and the other demon. The frog then return to the matter that had him here to begin with.

Hastur : I hate to be interrupted... Now where was I... Oh yeah! Hell will not forgive, Hell will not forget and you know it Crawly. The great war and our victory won't clear your record. From now on the only being to interact with you will be me and trust me it won't be the pleasent kind of interractions for you I'll make sure of that.

Crowley : Oh I trust you on that all right... Come get me then.

He had said that provocativly and was now slowly stepping back has Hastur was slowly stepping foward, his eyes lock with his preys'' waiting for the moment to strike. Aziraphale was between them and he steps in the way to block Hastur's path.

Hastur : Stay out of this sunshine this is an Hellish matter. Your time will come soon enough.

Aziraphale : Is it really? An Hellish matter Inkean cause I am very suprise that your boss sended two of their dukes to catch a renegate so close to armageddon... Aren't you suppose to get your plattons ready for the fight right now?

Hastur : Well,... Yes but Michaël called Ligur to tell us about Crowley not being trustworthy and we never liked the guy so we took the initiative to go catch him before he do more damage. It was a buissness initiative but now he destroyed Ligur wih Holy water right in front of me, trap me in his stupid machine and nownI'm seeing him with you, an angel! So this is personnal.

Aziraphale : A secret personnal initiative?... Oh dear.. I don't know how things work down there but if an angel had did that kind of initiative so close to armageddon they would be in a lot of trouble... Espetially if that said initiative had cause the lost of one of their greatest warrior... I don't think they could ever leave that unpunished... But if Hell is cool with that...

Hastur (laughing badly) : You think you can scare me that way? 🤣 I'm not stupid! Inknow hownHell work sweetie. And the is that if I don't even get this traitor snake back as an apologie present that things will be bad for me. So good try, but now move!

Aziraphale : Or what?

Hastur cast a fireball in his hand and show it to the angel as a reminder : What he did to the human, he could do it to the angel.

Aziraphale : Oh please, thats all you got?

Aziraphale open his wings and "power up" (hope I am clear here 😅) resulting in the extinction of Hastur Fireball. This time it was Hastur who back away as Aziraphale step foward.

Aziraphale : My previous logic wasn't scary enough, ok... How about this one : (his voice was deeper, stronger, but always stays clam) If you back in Hell right now without Crowley and take your position as you should have never leave it to begin with, you migth not be that badly hurt. I mean Before Heaven cruchs you all of curse. Am I clear?

Hastur (Terrified but tried to hide it) : I guess this can wait after the war... I'll go now but Crowley, don't think it mean you'll get out of it cause when we'll won, you'll see that the Universe is not that big compare to the eternity I'll have to find you treat you has you deserve!

On those enlighting words, Hastur sink down to Hell and Aziraphale release a relief breath. Not that he had been scare of Hastur, no. He was releave that he didn't had to actually hurt him for him to go. He hated display of violence and would never do any unless extreme necessity.

Crowley (he had run to his angel sides) : Angel you're allright?

Aziraphale : Of curse dear. I'm a Principality and he a Duke of Hell. In a one/one combat based on brut power he didn't stand a chance against me. He is not stupid he knows it too thats why he left when he saw he couldn't scare me.

Crowley : Sure thing. He's right though, I can't get out of it... If your lot win they gonna chase me down cause they want to destroy all demons, if we stop armageddon for happening Hastur and probably other demons will also chase me down to punish me and if my lot win, they will alo chase you for being an angel. There is no alternative where I'm left alone.

Aziraphale : Yes thats true. But either way I'll be with you. We'll be together. I won't let you alone in this. And I know you won't leave me alone either. So let go in there and see how things turns out cause I'm extremly tire to play "guess what will happen if..." all the time.

Crowley : Angel... Sorry but I can't help it...

Crowley rushs into Aziraphales' arms and hug him for the first time ever. Aziraphale was shock for a second but then he took his wings that was still out and cover his dearest demon in it as a shelter and a promise : He will always be there for him.

The hug was interrupted by the arrival of the Them who enter in the airbase. After that everything that happened is exactly as the show... Or is it?

[goodm-omen-ts]

Blind Crowley, anyone??

I looove the blind Aziraphale comic, so now I’m thinking: Blind Crowley with massively cool sunglasses, accidentally-on-purpose clipping people’s ankles with his cane. 

Blind Crowley who can’t drive but enjoys being in the car. It is Aziraphale who drives, keeps the same car forever bc it’s on-brand for him, and Crowley especially likes the sensation of the older car and the vibrations from it and Aziraphale is a sensible driver who occasionally,,,,,is not so sensible and speeds (for good reason), but he’s always (ok, usually) mindful of other cars and pedestrians. Crowley likes to go fast. The sensation of inertia? Exquisite. 

Crowley likes having new clothes with new textures and cuts, and he keeps the colors the same for ease. Black goes with everything and he knows he looks cool. He feels cool.

Aziraphale has purchased braille books for Crowley and sneakily left them for Crowley to discover when he’s touching his way through the shop (mindful to have his hands clean lest he dirty a book and get a lecture about it).

He knows the bookshop (and of course his own flat) incredibly well and the clutter has been the same for years, so nothing phases him and he walks through it perfectly sans cane, to the bafflement of sighted customers. (A blind man walking into a bookshop is enough to startle, but said blind man walking around like he owns the place?)

Crowley using miracles to make the world more accessible to him, imagining clear paths and braille signs in places that make sense (and are actually in braille…)

He gets to hold Aziraphale’s arm a lot, which is a good time, and listen to Aziraphale point things out while he makes snide comments, and who’s to say if Crowley knew whether those people were within earshot when he insulted them?

He sleeps whenever. (Circadian rhythm? who is she?)

Blind Crowley who created the stars based on how they felt to him, the heat of them in his hands and around his body. He wasn’t afraid of the vastness of space because it was his territory. It just sucks that he can’t see them from where he lives now, but sometimes he recreates constellations, scales them down to fit in his flat.

The echo in the halls of Heaven were either a blessing or a curse; there is no in-between.

Earth isn’t always terribly accessible, but Hell is worse. Crowded, no space to move around, all the dripping water from the ceiling and the odor, and you’re never more than an elbow away from everybody. Any light/color perception he’s retained is immediately regretted due to flickering lights, and he’s glad for his dark lenses. He’s not down there enough to know where anything is, and the “braille” signs are a) not raised and/or b) full of misspellings or mislabeling.

Satan gave the Antichrist to a blind man and he wasn’t even the one who accidentally swapped the babies? Poetic cinema.

He uses his other senses a lot (”No I know what you smell like”), which is also on-brand with his snake traits, as is low vision.

He sees for the first time using Aziraphale’s eyes in the bodyswap, which is super disorienting. Mimicking Aziraphale’s tone of voice was so much easier than trying to mirror his facial expressions. Somehow Heaven looks even worse than it smells, sounds, or feels???

The M25 was absolutely planned and totally not a result of him miscalculating where he placed the last thirty cones………

feel free to reblog ♡

[ourownsideimagines]

Here We Go Again (Crowley x short!Fem!Reader)

Characters: Crowley, Fem!Reader, Hastur, Aziraphale.

Requested: Yes

Requested by: @throw-some-music-my-way

Point of View:  Second Person

Warnings: None?

Words: 2060

A/N: Okay tbh I’m not very confident in this one? I feel like it may stray a bit too far from the prompt but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

---

The towering wall of flames that surrounded the while of London were preventing your previous plan of escape. Something fishy had been going on for a while, you knew that, and your gut told you that leaving today would be the best idea.

You guessed you just weren’t fast enough.

You had just been starting to get onto the M25 when you saw the flames in the distance starting. It was a miracle you were able to get out of your car before the flames overtook, devouring it and other cars (and people) whole. The only thing you had was your phone, which had miraculously made home in your back pocket before you’d got into your car.

Other people near you had begun to abandon their cars, the fear that maybe the flames would expand. But you stood there, alone in the rain, watching it with… wonder.

It was only a few minutes later, or so it seemed, that a vaguely familiar vintage black car pulled up beside you, and a very familiar red-headed man stepped out. Your eyes widened upon recognition, but before you could say anything be started.

“Who the hell are you?” He says. “Why is it, at every turn, you’re there, huh? Why do I keep running into you!” He throws his hands up, in anger and frustration. Under normal circumstances you would have run away. But there were two things keeping you there. One, even if you were to try to you, you were certain this man would be able to catch you, what with his damn long legs. Second, there was something odd itching in the back of your mind. Something that told you, that despite the way things seemed, you were perfectly safe with this man.

You’d run into him on many occasions now - typically, he was accompanied by a blond man in a tan coat and tartan bow tie. And on each occasion, they had saved your life - more accurately, this angry ginger man had saved your life.

The first time had been rather tame, in your opinion. You’d been bird watching, from your usual tree at the park, out of view of the cops, since they’d warned you against your tree-climbing many times. Usually you would have listened. It wasn’t in your nature to go against a higher authority, but bird watching was one of the few pleasures in life you had, as it required little to no human interaction and could be done from a lot of places.

Your favorite spot, though, was the park. Specifically, the one with the dinosaurs. You couldn’t remember the name for the life of you - you didn’t need to know it. All you needed to know was that someone didn’t cut down your usual tree, and that there were no cops around. Otherwise an afternoon of bird watching would be ruined before it even started.

You were scribbling something down in your journal when the pencil fumbled from your hand, and in the heat of the moment you had fumbled backwards to try and catch it, only to fall from the tree yourself.

It hadn’t been the first time, and you were certain it wouldn’t be the last, but it was the first time you were actually caught. You’d been rather surprised. It seemed as if the person had been expecting your fall. You thought, for a moment, that it might have been Officer Harrison, whom had warned you against tree-climbing on many occasions. But you didn’t recognize the man at all. It was the red-headed man. He’d set you down rather roughly, handed you your pencil before stomping off with a blond gentlemen, who gave you a nervous smile before following his companion.

It only got more extreme from there.

The next time you saw the man, you were making a visit to your Aunt Mary Hodges.

You weren’t related to your Aunt Mary by blood. Your mum had known her as a child, and they’d been rather close, practically sisters. They’d fallen out of contact when you were younger, and in that time Mary had become a nun, then after the order was dissolved, had become a successful business woman. It was around that time she got back in contact with your mom, and by default, back in contact with you.

You loved your Aunt Mary. She was a bit odd, you would admit. Sometimes she would forget she was no longer a part of the chattering order, and would tell you everything on her mind. Some things were questionable, others were just plain silly. You’d learned not to take everything she said to heart.

Was she a bit scatterbrained? Yes

Did you still love her? Absolutely.

Which is why you decided to visit her at her place of work. You’d forgotten to call ahead, which you quickly realized was a mistake. There were a good dozen cars parked out front, including a quite beautiful vintage Bentley.

That meant that another paintball session was happening. Usually when you came to visit during one of those, Mary would leave the back door unlocked for you. Now you were staring to wish you’d called her. You knew she didn’t answer her cell during work hours, especially not when there was a session happening. You would have to risk getting pelted with paint balls if you really wanted to get inside.

So, you tossed off your jacket, sighing in contempt before you began to walk. It was silent. Deadly silent. You were certain some must have spotted you already, and were bracing yourself for impact.

You heard the pop of the trigger being pulled, and your eyes widened as a real, metal bullet whizzed past your head.

Not safe. Definitely not safe. You lurched forward with a short scream, dashing towards the entryway of the building.

More gunfire rang through the air, and to your luck none of them came close to you. You didn’t bother to slow down, your feet carrying you in the direction of Mary’s office.

“Aunt Mary!” You shouted. “Aunt Mary!”

As you were about to turn the corner, you came face to face with a man - the same man, from the park. You froze, eyes wide. You opened your mouth to say something but he lurched forward, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards him as a few stray bullets flew through the window, shattering the glass and impacting the wall beside where you once stood.

You opened your mouth to say something, but it all became blank. The man stood before you a few moments longer before retreating, leaving you confused and alone. You didn’t know why you didn’t follow him, or why you didn’t say anything. A part of you wanted to, but something else was telling you to just… forget about it. And you did. Even when the police arrived to investigate, you could hardly say much about the interaction. It somehow just felt unimportant.

And you kept bumping into him. And he kept saving you, sometimes from himself and his own antics.

You couldn’t find the words to express your confusion, or your upset. You just stood there, in the rain as this man shouted at you. A part of you wanted to break down and cry, but all you did was stand there. He calmed down slowly, and turned to you. You blood ran cold as he removed his glasses, revealing a pair of golden snake eyes. But you weren’t afraid.

“Who are you.” He demanded again. You quickly stuttered out your name. “Why the hell do I keep meeting you, (name)?”

“I don’t know!” You cried out, arms wrapped around yourself to try and save your warmth. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He glanced over your shoulder and his eyes widened in surprise. You braced yourself. Anything could happen.

“Get in the car.” He said suddenly.

“E-excuse me?”

“Get in the car. Now.” He didn’t look away from whatever might be behind you. He lifted his hand, and with a snap of his fingers the passenger side door flew open.

“I, uh, I don’t think that’s a very good, uh, idea-” You went to turn around, but the man stopped you.

“You have to trust me.” He said suddenly. “Please.” You did. You against your better judgement, you trusted him. Despite this you stood there, staring him down.

“I don’t even know you.” You repeated.

“What? You want a name? Will that make you feel better?” You said nothing. “Crowley. The name is Crowley, now please get in the car.”

Feeling as if you didn’t have a choice, you entered the vintage car. Crowley followed quickly after, getting in the driver's seat. He hands you a singed book. “Open that, see if there’s anything.” He instructed.

You did as you were told. There were many, small, numbered paragraphs littered on the pages. You read the first one that caught your eye.

“3334. Drive. Hold her close, demon. For the fire will burn but yee can protect her.” You looked up at the towering flames. “What the fuck does this even mean?”

“It means we’re going for a drive, (name).”

“Are you crazy!”

“He must be.” You wanted to scream, the sudden appearance of a man in the back seat sending you into a panic. He was deathly pale, with warts covering his cheeks, and a slimy frog fused to the top of his head. He was horrifying, but he paid you no mind. His dark, murky eyes were turned to Crowley.

“Ah, Hastur, how was your time in voicemail?” Crowley grinned to himself. You yelped as he pulled you into his side, arm thrown over your shoulder.

“Funny ha-ha, joke all you like, Crowley.” The man, Hastur, grumbled. “There’s nowhere to run.”

“Aren’t you to be lining up, ready for battle around now?” All you could do was stare forward into the fire. Was he really going to drive you into that?

You didn’t doubt it.

“Hell will not forget.” Hastur sneered from behind you. “Hell will not forgive. You know where the real Antichrist is, don’t you.” Antichrist? Hell? What the fuck was going on with these men, you wondered. They couldn’t really be… demons. Right? “You’ll never reach him. You’re done Crowley. You think you’re going to get the both of you across that?” The flames before the car seemed to grow at the demons words. It took you a moment to realize Crowley was busy selecting a CD to play. “There’s nowhere to go.”

“Let’s find out.” Crowley slipped the CD into the player. The car began to roll forward, and your heart started to race.

“What- wh- why are you driving.” Hastur demanded.

“What the hell are you doing,” You said. “You’re mad!”

“Trust me on this,” He muttered, pulling you closer. Everything told you to pull away, but instead you squished closer, clutching his coat tightly as the fire came closer, and closer.

“That’s- what- Stop this thing!” Hastur demanded, and you wanted to agree. There was no way you’d make it across, you were certain of it.

“You know the thing I like best about time?” Crowley drawled. “It’s that every day it takes us further away from the 14th century.” Crowley kept an arm around you, and one hand firmly on the wheel. You began to shake. “I really didn’t like the 14th century. You’d have loved it then, Hastur. They didn’t have any cars back in the 14th century.” As Crowley spoke, you sped closer and closer to the flames. You let out a small scream as the car plunged into the fire, and Crowley gave you a tight squeeze.

You’re surprised to find that, you’re barely even warm. It was like a soft blanket was wrapped around you, protecting you from the flames that licked at the outside of the vehicle. Behind you, Hastur howled in pain. These howls dies out with one last ‘I hate you’ before all you could hear was the music on the radio and Crowley’s shouts at his car telling it that it ‘will not burn’.

Despite everything, despite the fear coursing through your veins, despite the voices in your head telling you that this is it, you found yourself snuggling just a bit closer to Crowley.

For protection, of course.

[10yrsyart]

I feel Crowley in the books it seems like he was in the worst places at the worst time (ex Spanish Inquisition) like hell didn’t have to ask much bc Crowley was usually in the wrong place where humans were being evil any time he actually did evil it was extremely low grade evil or things that were design related (m25 or the roads to hell or Manchester I think??) like let the snake boy design it obviously was his favorite of evils but Az usually found him where bad things happened just drinking

oh yeah, he’s the creative design type above anything else. and he enjoys the resulting level of irritation and frustration his creations cause. 

i was always under the impression he actually never even has to go through the motions of claiming to do the big horrible evils; Hell just assumes he’s responsible and commends him. wasn’t it the Spanish Inquisition that he didn’t even know was happening until Hell congratulated him on it? and then he got drunk for weeks to cope with how awful it was. (it’s been a year since i read the book, but i think that’s right..)

[ermwhatsup]

favourite lines from Good Omens

- Crowley: My point is-my point is...dolphins, that’s my point

- Crowley: You’re supposed to thwart the wiles of the Evil One at every turn, aren’t you?

Aziraphale: Well...

Crowley: See a wile, you thwart. Am I right?

- Aziraphale: Well I’ll be damned.

Crowley: It’s not that bad once you get used to it.

- Gabriel: As the almighty likes to say, “climb every mountain”

- Sign in Hell: Please do not lick the walls

- Crowley: The Hell Hound will be the key. It shows up at 3:00 on Wednesday.

Aziraphale: Right. You’ve never actually mentioned a Hell Hound before.

Crowley: Oh, yeah. They’re sending him a Hell Hound.

- Aziraphale, about Warlock: He’s over there writing a rude word on a description of a dinosaur.

- Crowley: Yeah, just checking in about the Hell Hound.

Dagon: He should be with you by now. Why? Has something gone wrong, Crowley?

Crowley: Wrong? No, no. Nothing’s wrong. What could be wrong? Oh, no I see him now, yes. What a lovely big helly Hell Hound. Yes, okay, great talking to you.

- Crowley: Why did the powers of Hell have to drag me into this anyway?

Aziraphale: Well, don’t quote me on this, but I’m pretty sure it’s because of all those memos you kept sending them, saying how amazingly well you were doing.

Crowley: Is it my fault they never check-up? I’m to blame they never check-up? Everyone stretches the truth a bit in memos to head office, you know that.

Aziraphale: Yes, but you told them you invented the Spanish Inquisition and started the Second World War.

- Aziraphale: Can I help you?

Gabriel: I would like to purchase one of your material objects.

Sandalphon: Books

Gabriel: Books. Let us discuss my purchase in a private place because I am buying uh-

Sandalphon: Pornography.

Gabriel: Pornography.

- Gabriel, loudly: Thank you for my pornography!

- God, about War: She’s been killing time for so long now. Time, and sometimes people.

- Janice: Just so that you know, Norman, I’ve registered a complaint with HR about this whole training initiative nonsense.

Nigel: It’s a team-building exercise, Janice. And, um, just so as you know, there’s no “I” in “team”, yeah?

Office guy: But there’s two “I”s in “building”, Nigel. And an “I” in “exercise”.

- Shadwell: You have your own teeth?

Newton: Yes.

Shadwell: How many nipples have you got?

- God: He had heard about talking to plants in the early 70s and thought it an excellent idea. Although “talking” is perhaps the wrong word for what Crowley does.

Crowley: *yelling at and threatening plants*

- Madame Tracy: Are you not here for intimate personal relaxation and stress relief for the discerning gentleman?

Newton: No. I’m here to join the Witchfinder Army.

- Aziraphale: Watch out for that pedestrian!

Crowley: She’s on the street. She knows the risk she’s taking.

- Aziraphale: Crowley, you can’t do 90 miles per hour in Central London!

Crowley: Why not?

Aziraphale: You’ll get us killed. Well, inconveniently discorporated.

- God: Wensleydale’s first name is Jeremy but nobody’s ever used it, not even his parents who call him “Youngster”. All that stands between Wensleydale and chartered accountancy is time.

- God: Every gang needs a Brian. Always grimy, always supportive of anything Adam invents or needs.

- Adam: Get off the torturing swing and let someone else have a turn.

- Aziraphale: Um, are you sure this is the right place? This-this doesn’t look like a hospital and...it feels loved.

Crowley: No, it’s definitely the place. What do you mean “loved”?

Aziraphale: Well, I mean the opposite of when you say, “I don’t like this place. It feels spooky”.

Crowley: I don’t ever say that. I like spooky. Big spooky fan, me. Let’s go talk to some nuns.

- Aziraphale: You know, Crowley, I’ve always said that deep down, you really are quite a nice-

Crowley: Shut it! I’m a demon, I’m not nice. I’m never nice!

- Crowley: He won’t even know it but his powers will keep him hidden from prying occult forces.

Aziraphale: Occult forces?

Crowley: You and me.

Aziraphale: I’m not occult

Crowley: Oh.

Aziraphale: Angels aren’t occult, we’re ethereal.

- Aziraphale, after Anathema and the car collide: You hit someone.

Crowley: I didn’t. Someone hit me.

- Aziraphale: Just a perfectly normal velocipede.

Crowley: Bicycle.

- Aziraphale, about the Flood: When it’s done, uh, the Almighty’s going to put up a new thing called a “rain bow”, as a promise not to drown everyone again.

Crowley: How kind.

- Crowley: Oh, I’ve changed it.

Aziraphale: Changed what?

Crowley: My name. “Crawley” just wasn’t doing it for me. It’s a bit too...squirming-at-your-feet-ish.

Aziraphale: Well you were a snake.

- Crowley: What was it he said that got everyone so upset?

Aziraphale: “Be kind to each other.”

Crowley: Oh, yeah, that’ll do it.

- Aziraphale: Still a demon, then?

Crowley: What kind of stupid question is that, “Still a demon”? What else am I gonna be? An aardvark?

- Aziraphale: We may have both started off as angels, but you are fallen.

Crowley: I didn’t really fall. I just, you know, sauntered vaguely downward.

- Crowley: I wrote it down, walls have ears. Well, not walls, trees have ears. Ducks have ears. Do ducks have ears? Must do. That’s how they hear other ducks.

- Crowley, walking painfully down the church aisle: Sorry, consecrated ground. It’s like being on a beach in bare feet.

- Aziraphale: That was very kind of you.

Crowley: Shut up.

- Shadwell: You are not yourself a witch, warlock, or someone who calls your cat funny names?

- Anathema: I’m fine!

Adam: But you were crying.

Anathema: I know!

- Adam: Look, excuse me for asking. If it’s not a personal question, but are you a witch?

Anathema: No, I’m an...occultist.

Adam: Oh, well, that’s alright then.

- Adam: Nuclear power stations are rubbish.

Anathema: Yes! Yes they are!

Adam: We went to one on a school trip and there was nothing bubbling and there wasn’t any green smoke and there weren’t anyone in those space suits. And it was so dull.

Anathema: Well, yes, but we need to get rid of them.

Adam: Serves them right for not bubbling.

- Adam: Obviously the aliens used to do that. Now they give messages of global peace and cosmic harmony and the government hushes it all up.

Wensleydale: Why?

Adam: It’s what they do. They hush up aliens and nuclear reactors and the people from Tibet who have secret tunnels and are listening to everything we say.

- Lesley the delivery dude: Ours is not to reason why. Ours is to deliver packages.

- Brian: We don’t take sweets from...

Pepper: Witches.

Wensleydale: I do.

- Harriet: Is this because I said the President’s wife looked like a floozy? Because I never said that.

- Shadwell: You are possessed by a demon, and I will exorcise you with bell, book, and candle!

Aziraphale: Yes, uh, fine.

- Fireman: Are you the owner of this establishment?

Crowley: Do I look like I run a bookshop?

- Crowley: Aziraphale! For God’s- For Satan’s- Ah! For somebody’s sake, where are you?!

- Crowley, about to drop his sunglasses on the ground: I shouldn’t litter, should I? I mean, I probably should litter, I’m a demon, after all.

- Newscaster: Motorists are being advised to avoid the M25 London orbital motorway because, in the words of a Transportation Department spokesman, “it’s on fire or something.” What does that even mean?

- Shadwell: This Antichrist of yours, how many nipples does he have?

Aziraphale: Uh, oodles of them. Pots of nipples. Nipples everywhere.

Shadwell: Then I’m your man.

- Crowley: You know the thing I like best about time, is that every day it takes us further away from the 14th century.

- After Crowley drives past in his flaming car and waves

Officer 1: What was-

Officer 2: Right now that’s someone else’s problem.

- USA military dude 1: What the heck?

USA military dude 2: Did you really just say “what the heck”?

- Beelzebub: We built this place for you specially. It shall be your place of trial and it shall be your place of destruction.

“Crowley”: Guys, you shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble.

- Aziraphale: Crowley, he’s got a gun. He’s pointing it. Do something!

Crowley, looking at the burning wreckage of his car: I am having a moment here.

- Aziraphale: We are here to lick some serious butt.

Crowley: “Kick”, Aziraphale. It’s “kick butt”. For Heaven’s sake! Oh, I can’t believe I just said that.

- Pepper, after Anathema says Newt is her boyfriend: Another deluded victim of the patriarchy.

- Beelzebub: Crowley, the traitor.

Crowley: That is not a nice word.

- Gabriel: God does not play games with the universe.

Crowley: Where have you been?

- Aziraphale: Come up with something! Or...or I’ll never talk to you again.

- Uriel: Renegade angels all tied up with strings.

Sandalphon: These are a few of our favourite things.

- “Aziraphale”: Well. Lovely knowing you all. May we meet on a better occasion.

Gabriel: Shut your stupid mouth and die already.

- “Crowley”: I don’t suppose that anywhere in the nine circles of Hell there’s such thing as a rubber duck?

- Wensleydale: How long until they let you out?

Adam: Years. Years and years, I expect.

Pepper: What about tomorrow?

Adam: Tomorrow will be alright. They’ll have forgotten about it by then.

Feel free to add!!! :)

[femvimes]

Notes from the Script Book (episodes 1-3)

I got the Nice and Accurate Script Book and proceeded to take copious notes of things that weren’t in the show, or illuminating ways that Neil wrote things. It’s SUPER interesting but I took a lot of notes, so see them under the cut:

Introduction:

In a 1991 movie script for GO that Terry and Neil wrote, the producers pressured them into writing that Aziraphale worked at the British Museum and that Crowley OWNED A NIGHT CLUB. How’s that for an AU

Neil knew from the start that he wanted Aziraphale and Crowley to be the main characters

“I think it’s fair to assume that if, at any time in the last 6,000 years, anything interesting happened anywhere on Earth, Crowley and Aziraphale were probably there, not doing whatever it is they were actually sent there to do” (It is a gift, a gift to the foes of Mordor fanfiction writers)

Episode One:

Crowley originally hisses the “lead balloon” line unintelligibly while in snake form

Crowley’s wings are grey (why? this is super interesting to me)

Aziraphale “thinks tartan is nifty, and would use the word nifty with pride”

Aziraphale and Crowley originally had extra introduction scenes. In his, Crowley uses an army of rats to bring down the London mobile network. Then he tells them to, and I quote, “stay cool”.

Crowley runs from police in the script (like in the book) and uses RATS to sabotage their engine

One thing I was confused about in the show - Satan interrupts the radio to tell Crowley his work on the M25 was a stroke of genius, but it doesn’t sound like Ben. I think it’s actually a Freddie Mercury impersonator to make it sound like Satan is talking to him through Freddie Mercury (which is also in the book)

Crowley’s M25 Powerpoint originally happens in episode one, and in the script when he says his fateful “Can I hear a wahoo” everyone mumbles “Hail the Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds”, which is imo not nearly as funny as the non-reaction in the show

Thaddeus Dowling is a “presidential hopeful”

THE PRESIDENT IS LITERALLY BUSH IN THE SCRIPT

Like in the book, Crowley kills a duck at St. James’s Park, Aziraphale gives him the “really, my dear” line and Crowley brings the duck back to life. (I would sacrifice, like, the tip of a finger to hear Aziraphale call him “my dear” just ONCE)

Although the show never explains why Pestilence was replaced by Pollution, Crowley and Aziraphale discuss it in the park. All the Four Horsemen also have longer introductory scenes, but I’m glad they were cut because they don’t add a lot

Before Crowley and Aziraphale get drunk, they have “spent a very pleasant day together”

Aziraphale’s regency silver snuff box obsession was in the script, but dropped from the show

When Aziraphale starts to agree with Crowley, he’s described as “coming over to the dark side”, starting a trend of hinting at Aziraphale’s Fall and personally killing me, Tumblr user femvimes

Nanny!Crowley is “sexy and domineering”. Snerk.

Crowley and Aziraphale sit next to each other on the bus in 2012

The part that everyone says David and Michael improvised with the magic trick is in the script. So I’m not sure what part of the scene was improvised. Maybe the blocking?

Crowley appears to be “in charge” of the caterers at the birthday party

There’s an extended sequence at the party where Warlock fires a gun (like in the book) that got cut in favor of the food fight

Crowley brings the dove back to life by snapping his fingers

Aziraphale swears by saying “sugar” which was probably an amazing running gag which culminated in him losing his cool and dropping the f-bomb

Crowley told Hell he invented the CIA torture practices (woof)

Episode Two:

Stage direction: “the plants are terrified. No, I don’t know how we show this on television either.” I like to think that behind each plant in that shot is a production assistant shaking it.

Aziraphale brings shortbread on their trip to Tadfield

Crowley and Aziraphale both ask each other if the other side will give them asylum. (This foreshadowing is comin’ in hot, folks)

The scene where Aziraphale and Crowley get shot by paint balls was meant to be “shot like a war film”. WE WERE ROBBED

Crowley “gestures” to make the paint go away. Yeah, huh, he, uh, sure “gestures” in the gayest way possible

The full wall body slam is in the stage direction (Neil I REALLY want to know ur reasoning here)

“Aziraphale is rather enjoying having the upper hand in the ideas department”

Crowley tells Aziraphale at one point “Dude. Chill.”

Episode Three:

In Rome, there’s a few lines that get cut where Crowley buys Aziraphale his glass of wine

When Aziraphale agrees to the coin toss in the Globe, he “falls”. (I just can’t. I can’t anymore)

When Aziraphale sees Crowley in the Nazi Church scene, he’s “realizing they are still friends”. KILL ME

This seemed relevant, because I’ve watched the scene so many times: In 1967, Aziraphale opens the car door, delivers his “don’t look so disappointed” line and presumably exits the car after the “you go too fast for me” line. I prefer the blocking they kept (obviously) because it makes him seem more reluctant to leave

ALSO: after Aziraphale leaves the Bentley, a neon halo flashes on and off above his head. (WHY? did they cut all the references to Aziraphale Falling? This is all I want!)

More that got cut: some not-great jokes about Mme. Tracy’s sex work (thank God someone reined Neil in, ‘cause yikes)

We have one (1) Dear Boy: Aziraphale calls Shadwell that in their phone conversation

[mostweakhamlets]

Fic prompt: Warlock tracks down Aziraphale’s bookshop and swings by.

Thank you so much! This was much longer than I expected it to be, and it took a turn I wasn’t expecting. 

Warlock was always curious about what happened to his nanny and the family’s gardener. They had left only a week apart--first, the gardener and then Nanny Ashtoreth--and had always seemed… close. 

It took a year after they left for him to realize that they were weird. It took a year’s worth of odd looks by his parents when he mentioned “sister slug” or when he casually brought up nanny’s lullaby. It took a year’s worth of therapist appointments his mother made him go to. 

They were weird. 

But he still remembered them fondly. 

By the time he was 15, he was too curious to not do anything about it anymore. He searched high and low for Nanny Ashtoreth’s presence anywhere online. There was no resume, no LinkedIn, no business number, not even any social media. He moved on to sneaking into his father’s office in the middle of the night, rifling through drawers and filing cabinets to try to find any shred of evidence that Nanny Ashtoreth or Brother Francis even worked there. But there was nothing. No contracts, no business cards, nothing. 

Warlock had began to wonder if he had hallucinated the entire thing. But how could he make up Nanny rocking him to sleep and tucking him into bed? Or Brother Francis showing him a deer that had wandered into the garden early one morning, both of them holding their breath so as not to startle it? 

How could he make up the morning Nanny left? When she hugged him and told him to be whomever he wanted to be? She had wiped his tears by the front door because he cried so hard. She was never necessarily tender, but that morning she was cupping his face and whispering to him. She had also promised, though it turned out to be a lie as far as he knew, that she would see him again.

Warlock grew from being curious to bitter. His teenage angst increased with the mystery and the feeling of abandonment. 

Most of his childhood, he realized after more thought, was weird. His eleventh birthday was weird, though he enjoyed it. And not long after that there was the weird weather and news stories coming from England while his family was abroad. And what was with that weird guy that smelled like poo? No one talked about the summer of 2018 often. It was something that most people wanted to put behind them because it was… weird. 

Warlock decided to start embracing weird to find weird and fell down a deep rabbit hole. 

There was a magazine. New Aquarian. It had gone out of business for a few years but began publishing new issues online in 2018. Warlock read through the conspiracy theories of the 2018 apocalypse, the reports of people seeing aliens, the articles detailing the M25’s fire. There were interviews from people who claimed that their homes had been destroyed but suddenly repaired themselves when they woke up one Sunday morning. Everyone talked about that one Sunday morning. 

There were two interviews from Soho that Warlock poured over. The first was of a woman who seemed fairly normal for being in that magazine, but Warlock thought that maybe the reporters were the only ones who would listen to her. 

She worked across from an old bookshop--a very old bookshop, she specified. It had caught on fire, which was a tragedy since it had been there for over two hundred years, and she had watched as it burned down. The owner wasn’t there, fortunately. But then a man appeared in sunglasses (which didn’t appear out of the ordinary at first) and walked right in despite the firemen telling him to stay out. When he came back out, she swore his eyes were different. She swore they were yellow with slits instead of pupils. No one else seemed to notice but her. He drove away so fast there was no time for anyone to. Maybe it was contacts, she had pointed out, maybe it was part of a costume. 

The next day, the bookshop was fine. It looked just as it had for the past two centuries. She watched the owner stop outside in the street, looking up at it. She had described him as a polite man that always wore a pale suit with white hair, though he didn’t seem to be quite old enough to have such white hair. She had met him only a few times. She had wanted to see him that Sunday. She almost walked out to meet him in the street, but she thought better of it. 

“This poor man lost his entire shop--his entire home--and then it was there again with no explanation. I thought maybe he needed some time alone. Heavens know I would.” 

She said that everything went back to normal after that. The bookshop returned to its normal hours (as normal as they had been, she supposed). Business went on as usual. 

The second interview was about the same bookshop. The interviewee seemed more appropriate for the magazine. He talked about how he had been in the shop before, how the owner was polite but somehow not pleasant, how he seemed old and had worked there for years but never seemed to age past his mid-to-late 40s. 

The man fixated on the 0wner for a while. Warlock didn’t care. A lot of people aged well. A lot of people were eccentric. Then, he fixated on this man that was always in the shop. He always wore sunglasses. Looked the same age as the owner and didn’t age, either. Dressed equally eccentrically but in black with flaming red hair. 

But the man started talking about the fire as well. How he came by after the fire was out, looked at the charred sign that had read “A.Z Fell & Co.,” stood by the crowd who shook their heads in sympathy. The owner wasn’t anywhere to be found. Rumors were beginning to go around. There were other fires through London that no one could explain, but some people wondered if the owner had burned the shop himself for the insurance money. Since the owner came back the next day when it was magically repaired, the interviewee doubted it was an insurance scheme. 

He blamed supernatural beings. Warlock ignored that part. 

Warlock printed out the articles. He felt like a conspiracy theorist himself, underlining and highlighting anything that he thought looked important. He made notes and found the address and phone number of the shop. This was, to be fair, done mostly out of procrastination. He had a mountain of homework to do that weekend, but his research was more fun. And he supposed that any research would lead him somewhere--maybe not to find his nanny, but to put together some sort of logic for what happened four years ago. 

It was approaching early morning. His eyes itched. He thought about calling it a night and curling into bed. There wasn’t much left for him to do besides hang up his notes on the wall and connect them with red string. 

He used blue highlighter for the descriptions of the shop owner and his friend. He circled the line about yellow eyes and made a note: “what does this mean?” Were his irises yellow? Did he just have jaundice? Maybe he had light eyes, and the flames were just reflecting off of them. Maybe he had green eyes and the lady was colorblind. And the slits could be anything. Warlock had a friend who had a pupil that dipped into her iris. David Bowie had one large pupil. 

Warlock used his colored pencils to doodle in the margins of the paper after he listed every possibility. He drew eyes with pupils that slipped down to the bottom of the iris. He drew irises that were pale green, very light hazel, and green with flecks of hazel. He drew little martians in the corner that were beaming cows up into the spaceships. 

After his martian break, he went back to his laptop. He closed out the directions to the bookshop and pulled up a new window for fresh research. He typed in: “slit pupils.” There had to be a medical condition for it. 

Warlock scrolled through a page of pictures of cats and the burst pupils he had seen in his friend. Then, he froze. 

Among the pictures from medical websites and cat blogs, there was one of a snake with a bright yellow eye and a long, thin pupil. 

He had seen snakes before. Obviously. But none with yellow eyes (snakes at the zoo always had muddy brown or red eyes) and not when he was trying to imagine them on a person. 

He leaned back in his chair. He could perfectly imagine the snake’s eyes on a human face, framed by red hair. Red curls, specifically. It seemed almost familiar. 

Whatever. He was just tired. 

Turning off the lights and shutting his laptop, he crawled into bed. It was silly. The interviewees probably just missed renovations. The fire probably wasn’t as bad as they thought. If it was an old shop, it must have some sort of recognition and protection by the city. They probably had people come by as soon it was over to start replacing the sign and windows and door. The inside could still be burned for all anyone knew. Maybe that was why the owner came back the very next day. 

The familiarity of the eyes had to have a logical explanation as well. There was probably a movie with an actor with red hair that had snake eyes. A horror movie or something. That had to be it because the more Warlock thought about it as he began to fall asleep, the more he could make out a woman’s face. Her jaw was square. Her cheekbones were sharp. Her hair was styled and perfect, curls resting across her forehead. She was middle-aged, and Warlock could only imagine her in a modest black outfit. 

Warlock’s chest tightened. He sat up, turned the lights back on, sat back down at his desk. 

He could remember, somewhere deep in the farthest reaches of his memory, being five and sitting on Nanny’s lap in the garden. They were roughhousing, as they often did. He had squirmed too much as she grabbed him in a ticklish spot. He was laughing when she fell back into the grass, taking him with her. Her hat fell off. And so did her sunglasses. They slid down her nose and one stem fell off her ear. 

He had stared at her eyes for the brief few seconds she was too flustered to compose herself. They were yellow and here pupils belonged to an animal, not a human. She quickly closed her eyes and righted her glasses. 

“Nanny--”

“I think it’s time to go inside now.” 

He had never brought it up again. He had forgotten about it by that evening, his childish mind moving on to something more exciting. 

Warlock wrote a note to his parents: “Ground me when I get back. I’m going to Soho.”

He called an Uber and ate a couple handfuls of cereal as the sun was rising, too shaken (and perhaps excited) to be tired at 7 am. He gave the driver the address and five stars 20 minutes later when he stepped out of the car. 

He read the sign on the front door, shaking his head at the absurd description of hours. It seemed the only way to know if they were open was to check if the door was locked. 

“Young man, I’m terribly sorry, but we’re not quite ready for customers yet--”

The owner stood behind the front counter. He was everything the articles described him as. White hair, maybe in his 40s, pale suit. But he stared at Warlock, then, he smiled. 

“Actually, I suppose it might be time to open,” he said. “How can I help you?” 

Warlock walked forward, running a nervous hand through his long hair. “I don’t know.”

He looked so familiar. 

“I think I’m looking for someone,” Warlock said. “Or maybe a couple people.”

The owner wrung his hands together and looked ready to speak before a voice cut him off. 

“Is someone actually here at 8 in the bloody morning?” 

The man in sunglasses stepped out from the back room. His hands were shoved in his black jacket--not the only black item of his ensemble. When he looked at Warlock, he didn’t react for a few seconds. Then, he stopped and stared just as the owner had. 

“He’s looking for someone,” the owner said with a tight smile. “He appears to be lost.” 

The man in the sunglasses didn’t say anything. The owner recovered. 

“We can call your parents, young man,” he said, picking up the receiver of vintage phone. “Tell them they can meet you here.”

“I’m not looking for my parents,” Warlock said. He made eye contact with the sunglasses. He nearly shivered thinking about what could be behind the dark lenses. “I’m actually looking for… my nanny.”

“Well, we can call her. It makes no difference.”

Warlock didn’t say anything. The owner sighed and put the receiver down. 

“What’s your name, kid?” Sunglasses asked. 

“Warlock Dowling.” 

The owner shook his head at Sunglasses. 

Sunglasses took a few more steps forward. He was tall, but Warlock had grown to reach his chin--his square chin that was a painful giveaway with the sharp cheekbones. 

“I can’t imagine your parents are happy that you’re here on your own,” he said. “Soho isn’t the place for kids to run around by themselves.”

That wasn’t true by any means. The parents part, maybe. But Soho was perfectly safe. 

Warlock stood his ground. “I’m just looking for my nanny. Their name is Ashtoreth. Or that was at least their name.”

Sunglasses smirked. He looked back to the owner who gave him a disapproving look. 

Warlock’s heart pounded. 

“I heard weird things have happened here a few years ago,” he said, trying to soldier on. 

“Weird things happened everywhere a few years ago,” Sunglasses said. 

“But… weirder things happened here. And I had a weird nanny.” Warlock took a deep breath. “And I read this article that there was a man here that some lady saw with yellow eyes.”

Sunglasses paled. The owner stepped out from behind the counter. 

“And I think that my nanny also had yellow eyes,” Warlock said. “And I think you might have been my nanny. I just want to know what’s going on.”

“I really think it might be time to call someone to collect you,” the owner said. 

“Stop it, Aziraphale,” Sunglasses snapped. 

Sunglasses took Warlock by the shoulder and lead him to the back room. Aziraphale trailed behind them. 

“Have a seat,” Sunglasses said. 

Warlock sat on the only sofa there. Sunglasses paced. 

“Alright,” Sunglasses said. He turned to Aziraphale. “Can we wipe his memories?” 

“Wipe his memories, Crowley?”

“Yeah.”

“No! Not from 10 years ago! You should have distracted him when it happened. And who is this other person?” 

“Look, I won’t tell anyone,” Warlock said, beginning to think that he had made a mistake because maybe people with snake eyes and snake face tattoos that went by Crowley weren’t the nicest. “You don’t have to fight about it. It’s not a big deal.”

“We’re not fighting, my dear,” Crowley said. 

My dear. Warlock hadn’t heard that since he was a kid. 

“And this is a big deal,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley sat next to Warlock. 

“Here’s the deal.” He made a face. “I was your nanny when you were a boy--”

“Crowley.”

“And I was there when you turned 11. It’s a very, very long story. We dragged you into something you didn’t need to be involved in, and as soon as we could we got you out. You wouldn’t understand any of it.” 

“But I can try.” 

Crowley sighed. “There are things that you shouldn’t be involved with. It’s better to not know anything.”

Warlock shook his head. “I want to know. Something happened when I was a kid and something happened in 2018. I think I deserve to know about it all.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale. Warlock crossed his arms. 

“I know that this shop burned down one day, and I know that you were here, and I know that someone saw that you have snake eyes, and I know that the next day everything was fine. I also know that when I was five, I saw you without your dumb sunglasses on and you--”

Crowley pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. Warlock felt like ice water had been dumped over him. 

“We can talk,” Crowley said, “as long as you swear none of this gets repeated.”

Warlock nodded. 

“And as long as you don’t call my sunglasses dumb again.”