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denaliwrites · 1 year ago

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Free as My Hair

Crowley x F!Reader x Aziraphale

Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale love your hair, but Crowley's also a little shit.

Soundtrack: Hair by Lady Gaga

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Bad Hair Day.

Your hair was your greatest source of pride.

It tumbled in loose, graceful loops all the way down to your hips. It shined like molten gold in sunlight. It shimmered like polished silver in moonlight. To put it plainly, it was fucking gorgeous, if you did say so yourself.

It was also, you were pretty sure, Aziraphale's and Crowley's favorite feature of yours.

Understandably, you felt. You spent countless time grooming it, styling it, caring for it. It had better rank high on their list, for all the effort, time, and money you poured into it. You were sure, though, that there were other benefits, of course. Aziraphale loved brushing it, and Crowley loved playing with it.

Among other, naughtier things.

You'd never once considered cutting it. Plenty of people asked, and it always seemed to boil down to the maintenance. For some reason, very few people could understand the love and pride you had in your hair, or the enjoyment you got out of caring for it.

Only your partners seemed to really get it, but maybe that was because they lived with you and got to see firsthand the dedication you put into it.

Well.

To say you'd never considered cutting it was a bit of a fib.

Crowley loved his Bentley the way you loved your hair.

And he loved taking you for rides. Loved the fear and thrill and adrenaline flit over your face one after the other in an endless cycle as he drove through London at speeds that should've been impossible and were definitely illegal.

He didn't usually have the windows down for these rides. He knew how utterly out of control your hair would be, how it'd ruin the hours you'd put into grooming that day, how devastated you'd be.

This ride, however, was different.

For one, Aziraphale was with you. This wasn't so unusual as to be cause for concern, but it was different enough from the norm to make you and Crowley feel slightly... off.

And to add to that, they both seemed on edge. You couldn't quite place what the problem was, but it was... tense.

"What would you say," Crowley started anxiously, turning to look at you for a moment, "about a trip to Oxfordshire?"

"Wh... why Oxfordshire?" you asked, curious but also apprehensive.

"No reason, dear," Aziraphale replied too quickly.

"We just thought it might be nice to get out of the city," Crowley supplied, shooting Aziraphale a look you didn't like.

"Breathe in some country air, as it were."

"Neither of you breathe," you deadpanned, glancing at the two of them.

"Yes, well," Aziraphale said.

"It was just a thought," Crowley offered.

Looking out the car, you could already tell that you were well on your way, whether you liked it or not.

"I guess it might be nice," you said with a sigh. You didn't miss the slight twitch of their lips at your compliance.

For a while, the car was silent. Crowley was focused on driving, and Aziraphale was reading something or other, holding the book with one hand while the other soothingly stroked your head.

You thought that you were maybe halfway there when suddenly wind roared through the cabin, and your hair started whipping about your face uncontrollably.

"Crowley!" you gasped, struggling to tame and contain your hair. "What the hell!?"

When you looked over at him -- and managed to see him through your thrashing hair -- he was grinning.

Oh, that dick.

"I swear on this Bentley, Crowley, if you don't put the windows up --"

"You couldn't do anything to this car if you tried," he said, throwing you an amused glance.

"You wanna take that risk?" you pressed, now holding your hair down at your neck. "After having kept this car pristine for a hundred years?"

A serious look flitted across his face for a moment as he weighed the options.

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale said with a sigh. "Don't be cruel."

The demon grumbled, and just as suddenly as the cabin exploded with activity, it quieted and your hair stilled. It fell in hectic, frayed curls all over your shoulders.

You looked down and whimpered. "My hair -- you ruined it... Oh, God, I'm gonna have to cut it..."

You missed the guilt-stricken look Crowley shot you and the admonishing glare Aziraphale shot him.

"It's all right, dear," Aziraphale cooed. He put his book away and pulled you down so that your head rested in his lap. "It's all right."

He started carding his fingers through the tangled mess of your hair, and as he worked through it you started dozing off.

You were woken up sometime later by the angel gently shaking you and telling you they'd arrived in a place called Tadfield. The name didn't ring a bell.

As you got up and instinctively reached to smooth your hair, you remembered what had happened with the windows -- and you realized that Aziraphale must have pulled a miracle to return your hair to its former glory.

The knowing smile he shot you confirmed your suspicions, and you returned it with a grateful smile.

#aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #aziraphale x you #crowley x you #good omens x reader #good omens fic #good omens fan fiction #michael sheen #david tennant

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toastedjeans · 3 months ago

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Introducing...

TOWER OMENS

A Good Omens and Pizza Tower crossover AU! Because apparently i love combining stuff that couldn't be more different from each other and seeing how it fits.

HEADS UP! If you aren't familiar with Good Omens or haven't seen the series yet, i highly recommend you ignore this post. There will be spoilers! Block the tag "#Tower Omens" for future posts if necessary.

With that out of the way, let's get right into it! [LOTS OF TEXT AHEAD I'M SO SORRY]

But before we look at the characters, a thing i want to mention is that instead of London, most of the events will take place somewhere in Italy. That means that some events, locations, and references will be different from the source material. You'll see what exactly i mean when we get to the timeline changes.

Oh also this will be pepstavo heavy. Because it's my AU and I'm predictable.

Anyway, here's the characters + the percentage of how likely it is they'll keep that role

Peppino as Crowley [1000%]

For being a demon, he's actually a surprisingly good person, and would never hurt anyone innocent. He fell cause he got mad one too many times, and now he's got trauma from the Fall. Other demons don't trust him and keep making his existence harder than it already is. He hates being reminded of the angel he once was, it makes him feel like a failure. Despite that, he would never want to become an angel again, in fear of falling again and going through the same traumatic experience a second time. Also Maurice is up there.

Instead of a snake, his animal form is a cow. No, not a bull. For reasons. His demonic mark is a big mole, burn mark, or scar in the form of a cow's head/skull located on his upper arm.

Instead of the Bentley, Peppino will drive an old Vespa, AND he'll be the one with an establishment. So instead of Aziraphale's bookshop, there will be Peppino's pizzeria! His pizzas are the best in town, not because he yells at them to be better, but because he's just so passionate about cooking. He has small horns he has to hide underneath various hats, and unlike Crowley, he can only marginally change his hair. Sure, he can make them longer, but he'll remain bald so he won't ever be able to hide the horns underneath hair. Usually he wears a chef's hat, and only takes it off around someone he trusts. Also, because of the anxiety, he's a terrible liar.

Lastly, he absolutely hates rats, and only tolerates them when he sees how sweet Gus is to them. But he would never hurt them of course. He just thinks they shouldn't be anywhere near him. Ever. But spoiler alert, he warms up to them cause of Gustavo.

Gustavo as Aziraphale [1000%]

As an angel, he's a good person, but he can still be mischievous at times. He can hide his nervousness pretty well, therefore he is a decent liar, and always here to help Peppino out of a situation when he can't come up with a lie himself. He's very powerful and can get extremely scary when angered. You know he'll kick Maurice's ass once he finds out how he used to treat Peppino.

Gus used to just make food appear with miracles, but after asking Peppino why he didn't do it as well, Pep teaches him how to cook. He sees how passionate he is and how much he's enjoying himself, so he starts to enjoy it a lot as well. They then become coworkers in the pizzeria.

He's more comfortable with experimenting with clothes, so he will appear more feminine in various eras, and sometimes still with the moustache because yes. He has an affinity for animals, especially rats. Instead of magic tricks, he will train rats and then do a little rat circus show (he doesn't harm them of course). Sometimes he feeds rats after shifts and talks to them, basically to keep them out of the pizzeria while Peppino is near.

Maurice as Metatron [95%]

Our favorite scumbag. He used to bully Peppino relentlessly, and still keeps insulting him even when he's not around. But he shuts up around Gustavo cause he's incredibly afraid of him, but won't ever admit it. Knows how powerful he can get. Is always kinda aggressive, but mostly just talks shit and threatens anyone who crosses him with The Fall™. Since he's God's right hand everyone is kinda afraid of him. Hates Noisette and is glad when she disappears and later on leaves

Ziti as Muriel [100%]

They have absolutely no clue what they're doing, but they're doing their best. Afraid of pretty much everyone, especially higher ranking angels since they're authority (yes, even Burton). An even more terrible liar than Peppino. They've never been treated with kindness before, so they grow attached to Peppino and Gustavo really quickly.

They pose as a health inspector instead of police (and i can make them wear a suit!!!). Gus shows them some rats and they immediately fall in love with them. Of course they don't know anything about Earth, as far as they're concerned, rats in the kitchen are a normal thing. Pests? No, look at them, they're too cute to be pests! (Also side note, as much as i still don't quite like Ziti as much, they're perfect for Muriel. I can't see anyone else in that role!)

Noise as Beelzebub [95%]

You know he hates Peppino. When he's in hell, he wears his suit, and his rat ears and tail are visible. But when on Earth (he doesn't come there often, he hates it), he sometimes wears his regular outfit to hide his ears and tail. It's really uncomfortable to him though. Instead of flies, he has fleas who are always surrounding his head. They look like tiny Noisys :).

He'd never admit it but he has a huge crush on Noisette. Even gave Noisette a flea container that now lives in her bunny hood.

Noisette as Gabriel [95%]

First off, major change from the series, hear me out. She's besties with Gustavo. While she's sort of the leader of Heaven, she sometimes lets herself get pushed around by other archangels when there's things she doesn't wanna do. Like punishing Gustavo after the failed Armageddon event. She still feels bad that she had to do this.

Other than that, she's oblivious as hell (pun not intended). She loves spending time with Noise and doesn't care that he's a demon. Or maybe she doesn't quite realize. I mean, he's nice to her, and he's funny. Anyway, even on Earth she keeps her bunny hood up, almost like it's part of her.

As Jim, she will be called Hazel. Since i don't want her to come back naked she just doesn't have the bunny hood on. It triggers her memories but she gets headaches from them, so she can only keep wearing it after getting her memories back. One of Noise's fleas is always on her and she keeps accidentally almost killing it by scratching herself.

Mr Stick as Michael [70%]

Really wants to be in charge, but he doesn't know what he's doing. He relies on the other archangels to do his job but he still wants to be the leader. Just. Without the responsibilities or having to make choices. He thinks he's extremely smart and knows everything better than anyone else. But when tested he insists that everyone else is tricking him or cheating (his waluigi side is showing...). Wants to be intimidating but i mean look at him. He's a twig. I could snap him in half with one hand. And I'm damn weak.

Burton as Sandalphon [70%]

Another one who's very different from the series. He's sweet and polite, but can be a little intimidating due to being Very Large™. He wouldn't hurt a fly though. He's also very good friends with Gustavo and Noisette, but like Noisette, he's sometimes pressured into being mean or cruel - such as attempting to kill Gus - by the other archangels

Fake Peppino as Shax [85%]

He'll be called Bruno in this. He never met Peppino despite looking like him, and being his replacement after Pep got banned from Hell. When angered, he can get extremely intimidating, but mostly he just doesn't quite understand how humans work. His speech is reversed, and only demons can understand him, but others can learn to understand him if they take the time.

He appears more goopy in Hell, like his in game sprite, and looks like the Nothing Compares guy when on Earth, but still can't speak normally. He either uses sign language when having to talk to humans, or just gestures around. Or he thinks he's doing sign language but actually just says gibberish.

In the end when Noise and Noisette are reunited, he gets promoted to Duke of Hell by Noise, but he doesn't want the position so he gives it to someone else.

Pizzahead as Lucifer; Pizzaface as Satan [99%]

Look. If Satan and Lucifer are the same character, then both are just different forms. In my head at least. Pizzaface is Satan (more demonic, huge, gets destroyed), and Pizzahead is Lucifer (more humanoid, human height, may return later).

While PF is more for intimidation, PH is more for visiting Earth in secret or when having to go through the Hell offices. PF created Fake Peppino and the Peppi clones, nobody knows why he seems to be so obsessed with Peppino that he keeps making demons in his image.

Pepperman as Uriel [89%]

He just really wants to get rid of Gustavo. He may look silly but he can be extremely intimidating, and way stronger than he looks. Selfish as heck. I want him to always wear a feather boa, both in his angel form and in his human form. And also i want him to look a bit androgynous. Genderfluid icon. Idk where his art would come into play but I'll find a way probably. Maybe his art form is fashion. So he's always wearing some kinda extravagant clothes, at least when he's on earth. Plus the feather boa.

Vigilante as Hastur [85%]

Basically looks the same as in game while in Hell, but with horns on his cowboy hat. On Earth he looks like a human cowboy. Idk how else to describe it lol. Even if he didn't like Doise very much, he's still mad at Peppino for killing him. He witnesses the Holy Water™ incident and tells Noise, but Noise doesn't believe him.

Doise as Ligur [95%]

Looks very similar to Noise, but unlike him, Doise isn't a rat, but a raccoon. Him and Vigi didn't really like each other that much, but they still preferred each other's company over anyone else's (especially Noise's). He dies via Holy Water but it's not as straightforward as you'd think (explanation below)

Peddito as the Holy Water [95%]

This secret special liquid is made for angels to kill demons easier. When thrown to the ground, it shapes into a sort of clone of the being who used it, but with hollow eyes, which is supposed to confuse or scare the opponent. It has the same strengths and weaknesses as the original, but without fears or other pesky feelings in the way. Since Peppino throws it, it will turn into a form that resembles himself. The liquid will then chase and kill the first thing it sees, in our case Doise, and then vanish with him. Like, he'll just vaporize or something. Only angels know about this weapon, and it is only used in extreme situations.

Peppiclones as Eric (disposable demon) [100%]

There's just. So many of them. Sometimes they get in a fight and kill each other before someone can give them instructions. Feral. Fake Peppino hates them cause they tend to get on his nerves quickly and rarely listen to him (which is impressive since it takes a lot to make him angry or annoyed)

Brick as the Hellhound [100%]

Brick will start out as a Bad Rat, and will turn into a Stupid Rat once given a name. Yes, she will still be gigantic. But she's the only giant rat, all the others are normal sized. Won't stay with Fungo, i really want her to stay with Gustavo (or at least reunite later on?). I don't care there has to be a reunion between them. Maybe Fungo is going to college and can't keep Brick, and the parents can't provide anymore. Idk. I love Brick i want her and Gus to stay friends

The Toppins as the Them & Warlock [101%]

Mushroom as Adam -> human name Fungo

Cheese as Wensleydale -> human name Gio (short for Formaggio)

Tomato as Brian -> human name Tom

Sausage as Warlock -> human name Saul or Soos

Pineapple as Pepper -> human name Pina

Pizzelle as Maggie [75%]

She's hopelessly in love with Rosette, but way too anxious to talk to her. Actually isn't sure if Rosette is flirting with her or if she's that nice to every customer. Sometimes she says things before thinking about them and regrets it later (she lets the demons into the pizzeria). Keeps thinking she's not good enough for Rosette or that she hates her

Rosette as Nina [75%]

She owns a cafe and bakery. Always has a smile on her face and is sweet to everyone she meets. She did just go through a breakup with her toxic partner, but tries to downplay it by acting like nothing happened. Actually didn't realize her partner was really manipulative and controlling until talking to Pizzelle about it when they're shut in during the power outage. She's not quite ready for a new relationship yet but keeps Pizzelle in mind, they're besties for the time being :)

Pizzano as Mr. Brown [55%]

He's an aspiring actor, but can sometimes be too much in his role, so that he keeps convincing himself that Pizzelle is his arch rival. He makes videos/short films on the internet (i don't wanna say he's an influencer but it goes in that direction). He doesn't quite have a crush on Gustavo, but he enjoys his company a lot more than Peppino would like.

✨ Timeline changes ✨

|| Before the beginning ||

Peppino used to be an archangel, he had bigger wings and hair (sorry Pep). Like Crowley, he created the stars but he used something like an oven for it, or maybe a cauldron. He used to be kinda apathetic towards other angels, and only liked creating stars. But he does eventually talk to Gustavo cause he seems genuinely interested in what he does, and nobody ever showed appreciation towards him or his work. Maurice was already a total asshole to him, which obviously angered Peppino, and then he just let him fall one day, stating that he wasn't behaving like an angel should.

Gustavo was a kinda low tier angel, basically just a messenger for other angels. Nice to every angel he meets in hopes of becoming friends. Unlike Aziraphale, he won't immediately be in love with Peppino at first sight but he talks to him more often than others so he starts feeling attached quicker.

|| In the beginning (4004 BC) ||

Peppino unintentionally made Eve eat the apple cause he bumped into the tree in his animal form and it landed directly in front of her. He's first on the wall cowering cause he feels guilty. Then Gustavo joins him and tries lifting the mood a little bit. He's aware that it was the plan to let the humans out but didn't know how. Tries reassuring Pep that he didn't do anything wrong. His weapon would probably be a flaming spear or lance. Or a big pizza shovel thing idk.

|| Bildad Era (Land of Uz 2500 BC) ||

Peppino won't tempt Gustavo to eat food, he's too worried about him falling. Since he has trauma from the fall he doesn't want Gus to go through the same thing so he tries to keep him from indulging too much. But Gustavo always wanted to try food. He knows that he won't get into too much trouble for eating food so he risks it.

|| Knight time (Wessex 537 AD) ||

Peppino is basically in the knight transformation, while Gustavo looks kinda like he appears on the Bloodsauce Dungeon title card. He's actually the one suggesting the arrangement, and Pep refuses more out of fear.

|| French Revolution (Paris 1793) ||

Peppino is the one getting captured. Idk why yet. Anyway, it's like Pig City where Gus has to break Pep out. That was my whole thought

|| Grand opening (deleted scene 1809) ||

Peppino opens his pizzeria for the first time. Noise, Vigilante and Doise visit him, congratulating him (begrudgingly) on spreading the Great Plague of Marseille (France 1720). They heard that Peppino was in France somewhere in the 1700s, but didn't fact check any further. He has no idea what's going on. They then tell him to look out cause there's an angel on Earth in the same area, and if he sees them he can just kill them anyway (maybe they make fun of him for being easily scared). Noise says that Da Boss (PH) wants him to come back to Hell and work side by side with him for some reason, he's pissed as hell (pun intended this time)

Meanwhile Gustavo wanted to congratulate Pep on the opening. When he sees the other demons, he hides, but listens in on the whole conversation. Is more careful since Vigilante has very good senses, and Pep doesn't notice him either. He then basically does what Crowley does in that scene, but leaves a little gift for Pep with a note that implies that he made the demons leave. Pep continues not knowing what's going on.

|| Holy water park break up (1862) ||

Peppino asks for holy water just in case of emergencies, but Gustavo refuses. He won't get angry at him, but more worried, so he offers Peppino his angel ring. It functions like a sort of communication device, so Gus would always know when Pep is wearing it. He tells him to put it on when he needs help or someone to talk to. Pep gets pissed, not only because he didn't get the holy water, but also cause he thinks Gus is making fun of him cause of the ring (also maybe he gets a bit flustered). He runs off and throws the ring back at him.

|| War (1941) ||

Peppino somehow became not just part of the mafia, but the boss. He doesn't know how that happened. His outfit will be inspired by Evil Pep. While he does have experience with using guns, it makes him anxious. He remembers when he was forced to kill others, and freezes up when he has to hold a gun. Sometimes smokes a cigar for intimidation purposes, but actually hates smoking, and will have a coughing fit. Goes by Mr. Spaghetti.

Instead of books, Gustavo delivers lab rats. He wanted to rescue them but either the Mafia or Mussolini want to test various nuclear weapons or whatever on them. Idk why. He gets so upset when he realizes the rats were killed by the bomb, but Peppino revives them, even though he hates rats, and gives them back to Gus. Gustavo is officially smitten.

|| 1967 ||

Peppino is for some reason still a mafia boss. Still wants holy water and wants his goons to bring it to him, but Gustavo stops him. He brings him a flask of special Holy Water, and tries again with offering his ring. He adds that he should see it as a reminder that he'll always be there for him when he needs him. Peppino accepts the ring this time. Since it's an angel ring it either burns or itches and he'll get a rash from it, so he wears it around a necklace. From this point on Peppino is seen wearing the ring around his neck, and Gustavo will not have one anymore. He also doesn't replace it. Also i thought maybe Gus appears more feminine here but still with a moustache because yes. I haven't figured out the outfit yet but i think this could be neat.

|| Nanny time ||

Peppino becomes a home tutor instead of a nanny. He's generally nervous around children, and doesn't wanna do or say anything wrong to them. He's afraid that he makes them cry or upset cause then he'll start to panic. Just like me fr.

Gustavo will appear feminine, as a personal cook for the family. He'll have old cartoon granny vibes, a dress with a cutesy lacey apron with hearts on it, long hair in a bun, and big cute oven mitts. Kinda like that one Granny Gnome in Gnome Forest.

|| Angel Disguise ||

During the pizzeria invasion, Peppino goes to Heaven with Ziti and disguises as an angel, wearing his white hoodie and cap with sunglasses. He'll try to be as authentic as possible so he also wears the ring Gus gave him and kinda forgets it gives him a rash (and also that Gus now thinks something's wrong). Then basically the same things happen as in the series, but with the addition of a very worried Gustavo.

While looking for the Clue™, Gustavo will wear an outfit that's kinda like a mix between Aziraphale and The G sugary spire. Also he will drive that Vespa, even if he doesn't have a license. He promises Peppino to keep it safe of course.

Okay that was a lot. I'll update this post whenever i change some characters around. Still need to figure out Dagon and Furfur (and some others from S1), plus Gerome and John. Hopefully I'll get these roles and characters figured out soon :)

#toast talk #pizza tower #pizza tower au #tower omens #peppino spaghetti #gustavo pizza tower #pizza tower oc #pizzasona #toast ocs #still not gonna tag everyone I'm a lazy piece of ham #also not gonna tag good omens. the fandom is too big and it scares me :(#this will probably devolve into its own thing eventually anyway so like. no need to tag #also the chance is higher that more people will See This if i tag it and I'm not ready for that #I'm already overwhelmed with like 10 notes so yea #anyway ramble over

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neurolady · 6 months ago

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My current obsession is "Where is Crowley’s mind at!"

I know disaster puppy and all, he's definitely a mess (both of them are), but how is that gonna manifest!

Aziraphale's is going to suck it up! He's going to have to! He's just been marched into the lion's den and forced to leave his sheild on Earth. He probably won't have much space to process before being chucked into Heaven's machinations. His process is going to be about holding it together while trying to figure out what Heaven is up to? And as far as him understanding Crowley's decision, I don't think he has as far to go as Crowley does in understanding his!

Crowley, on the other hand, has got space to wallow. I mean, REALLY, just get all up in his feelings! There really is nothing keeping him afloat right now. We've seen him wallow before, but this might actually be worse. Of course, he was devastated when he thought Aziraphale was dead. That, however, definitely wasn't Aziraphale's choice. In Crowley's mind right now, Aziraphale chose Heaven over him. With the final outcome, pretty much the same (at least he likely believes there's a chance), he might never see Aziraphale again.

He's hit the trifecta Homeless, Jobless, Loveless! God has slammed him into rock bottom and is grinding his face in the dirt for fun!! As of right now, Crowley is that classic, nothing more to lose character. I'm fascinated with where Neil and John (and Terry from above) chose to have him start S3 emotionally. I guess it depends on how much time is going to have passed - days, weeks, months, or even years 😬. And where in the universe is he physically - London (Soho), somewhere else but still Earth, off Earth (Alpha Centurai) or Hell.

Here's what I'm hoping -

We need a meltdown of epic proportions!! It'd be great to see David break out those big emotional ("and I would like to spend...hmmmh"💔) acting chops here. BUT I'm thinking more GO comedy meltdown. London/UK wide blackout! Takes out a newly repaired Big Ben as he erupts driving past in Bentley! Demand outstrips supply for alcohol in the Soho/London area, causing the economy to crash or brawling on the streets! Something comically absurd and big enough that it might just get Hell's attention.... see where I'm going?!

But after his meltdown(s) and obligatory self-destructive period, because of course there will be! There's not a chance there won't be. We mere mortals fall to pieces after relationships of measly months fall apart, we are talking 6000 years here!! BUT after this, I want to see the nameless fallen angel, who redefined himself as Crawly, who redefined himself as Crowley and then finally as Anthony J Crowley show that same level of resilience. I want him to figure out what 'his side' now means to him, even if he can only be an 'us' in memory (because may be at this point he still belives Aziraphale is lost to him for ever). I want him to decide why he wants to be on Earth for himself, so that he wants to protect it just as much as Aziraphale, not just BECAUSE of Aziraphale. So he understands why Aziraphale could and would never be happy if they had just left Earth to Armageddon and run off together. Perhaps this is all facilitated by him being on the run from Heaven, trying to get rid of him before Aziraphale finds out. Encountering the kindness of strangers. Rediscovering the demon who designed the M25, who was an infamous bootlegger in WW2 or a Black Knight in medieval times. Because let's face it by S2, it looks as though he's abandoned all that and just settled into "married" life.

But he can't be on the run forever realises his best protection is Hell and Anthony J, the cunning demon that he is, approaches them. Convinces them he's sick of Earth, done with backstabbing angels for good and (not actually a complete lie) knows all about Heaven's plan for the next Armageddon. Hugely comical meltdown (I like the idea of Big Ben burning 😂), plus maybe a few mishaps here and there to protect himself along the way, means they lap it all up! Crowley, however, by now, having recovered himself mostly (he'll never be totally whole without his yang), has realised the best way back to Aziraphale is also through Hell, giving him even more hope. As a by-product, maybe a realisation that Aziraphale was never rejecting him, but trying to protect him in the only way he knew how. Now we have double agent Duke Of Hell Crowley, but he actually wants to protect Earth and humanity for himself as well as so he and Aziraphale can make their home here properly (*cough* *cough* the South Downs enters the chat - you never know maybe discovered a nice little retreat while on the run).

Kick off S3, or may be we're a few episodes in already?!

I'll embrace my masochism, I don't think it would be at all true to them or him if he just bounced back, so I want to see that grief from him. A comical meltdown is a must for me, personally. But I think a note of seriousness within there would be beautiful. We are, after all, in David Tennant's safe hands. My main point is that I would be hugely disappointed if that is all we see. Crowley just drunk in Bentley doing nothing until Aziraphale turns up to drag him out of his stuppor. He's SO much better than that!

As a bonus to Duke of Hell Crowley, Aziraphale will know none of this having been kept completely in the dark by Heaven. So that when Hell proudly announces their newest Duke is Crowley, he is rapt with anxiety that he's pushed him over the edge and lost him forever! Until their first meeting, negotiations between Heaven and Hell about how they will ensure Armageddon actually gets going this time. Midway through, Aziraphale in a total panic at this point, Crowley casually growls at one of his minions to "get outside and stop that blasted Nightingale from singing outside the window, it's too bloody distracting", before continuing with the plan to start a nuclear winter.

#so that landed in a completely different place to where it started lol #character analysis?#Season 3 minific?#hmmm 🤨#either away my point is give me badass Crowley is S3 #I'm real excited for what Neil actually has in store #good omens season 3 #Crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow

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mid0khan · 9 months ago

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I got tagged by @the-apocrypha in the last line game, so I'll share a little bit of the (really big) Sandman fic I'm working on (like seriously I went from 'only writes one shots' to 'start a 100-chapters-long project' with no transition and I don't know what I'm doing I can only pray it's good)

Anyway, enjoy

Hob stood across the street from the bookshop.

When Abel had told him there was an angel in London, and one with a passion for books and a knack for magic, he had hardly believed his luck. If the revelation hadn’t been immediately followed by Cain stabbing a butter knife in his brother’s head (“How dare you ruin a perfectly good mystery you miserable maggot!”), Hob would have hugged him. Cain had assured him such a “benign” wound would heal pretty quickly, and he had even proposed to burry Abel near the surface, so he would rise up more easily, but Hob had awoken before he had a chance to thank his unlucky informant.

Finding the bookshop had been easy enough, but Hob was now facing an unexpected difficulty.

The ghost car, the one he had seen driving itself and that had caused him to avoid Soho for years now, was parked right in front of the shop.

He had feared he would see it; he was in the middle of its territory after all. But he had never thought the thing would be waiting for him there.

Hob had been standing there, staring at his newfound adversary for at least half an hour. The thing hadn’t moved at all. It was waiting for its time to strike, no doubt. Hob had no choice but to try and get around the car to reach the shop’s door, and pray that the car wouldn’t have a sudden crave for blood.

He warily crossed the road, keeping his distance with the ghost car as much as he could. It didn’t move. He hugged the wall, slowly approaching the door while never taking his eyes off the beast. From up close, he could see what a beautiful car it was. He hadn’t seen this kind of Bentley in ages, and this one looked brand new! He would have been in awe if he hadn’t been so suspicious of the thing. He finally reached the door, all but fleeing away from the car with a sigh of relief.

When his eyes got used to the relative darkness of the shop, Hob gasped.

Books everywhere. Books on shelves so full they looked like they were going to crumble. Books in piles on the floor. Books on the stairs, because there was a mezzanine filled with books too. New books, old books, children’s tales next to things that really should not be read by children, big classics and very niche authors… It was untidy. It was crumpled.

It was lovely.

“Go away,” a voice slurred to Hob’s left, making him jump. “We probably don’t have what you’re looking for, and if we did, we wouldn’t sell it to you anyway.”

Hob had been so focused on the books, he hadn’t noticed the little reading space next to him. Slumped in a very old armchair, a red-headed man was staring at him, slightly menacing. He looed very out of place in the bookshop, with his old-rocker style and his sunglasses, but somehow, he also seemed to perfectly belong there.

“Weird way to handle a bookshop,” Hob mused, and the redhead hissed at him. “But I’m not here to buy anything, actually I have a book to show to M. Fell?”

The redhead raised an eyebrow, curious, all trace of aggressivity leaving his body.

“Oh! Well in that case, welcome. Aziraphale is out for now, but he should be back soon. You can wait for him here, take a sit.” With a lazy raise of his arm, he pointed to a chair, and after carefully putting the pile of books covering it away, Hob sat, trying not to stare too much.

He was sure he had already seen the man somewhere.

The thing with being immortal was that he had seen a lot of people. It wasn’t always easy to remember which face belonged to which name, or where and when he had met someone. But there were situations that were harder to forget than others.

He had frequented a few circles that were… not very legal, in the 60’s. He had missed the thrill that came with doing something forbidden, that he had grown up with as a mercenary, and he had been quite good at picking locks. He had made sure never to kill anybody (his life and the last century both had had enough death already, thank you very much), but still, it had not been as fun as it had once been. He had felt like a fraud, stealing alongside people who struggled to make ends meet when he himself had been richer than any of their victims.

But there had been a weird job, not long before he had left his group. Someone had offered thousands to simply walk in a church and steal holly water. Of course the client has made it look like a big coup, but Hob had not been fooled. He had refused the job. He didn’t want to risk getting dragged in some demon summoning or whatever.

The redhead was the spitting image of the client.

Maybe it was just a man looking a lot like his father. Or maybe it was the same person. A fellow immortal? Another angel? Something else?

Maybe he could help too?

“Could you take a look at the book, too?” Hob asked, making the redhead frown. “I really need advices on how to use it.”

“How to use a book? Well, usually, you’re supposed to read it.”

“This one is a bit special; besides, I can’t read it.”

Hob took the grimoire out of his Marlowe was better tote bag, and the redhead tensed

“Nope! Absolutely not.”

“Could you help me-”

“No.” The redhead stood and grabbed Hob, forcing him toward the door. “I’m not helping you with that, Aziraphale is not helping you with that, you get out and you never come back.” He pushed Hob out of the shop and slammed the door shut behind him.

Hob stood there, dumbfounded. Welp, that didn’t go as planned. What was he supposed to do now? Could he convince the redhead to let him back inside? Was there maybe another book-specialist angel in London?

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a squeal. He realized he was still in front of the bookshop’s door, and a white-haired man was standing in front of him, a look of bewilderment on his face, his hands flapping in front of him in excitement. The man pointed to the grimoire still in Hob’s hands with a shaking finger.

“Oh my, is it really… No, it can’t be, but it looks just like… Where did you… Come in!” The man grabbed Hob’s arm and dragged him back in the bookshop, while almost screaming. “Crowley? Crowley dear, you won’t believe what I just found!”

I am supposed to tag people there too, which makes me a bit nervous, so I'll tag @cuubism, @kydrogendragon and @mimisempai if you want to play, and if you don't, forget I ever tagged you

#the sandman #writers on tumblr #good omens #my writing #my wips #what am i doing #dreamling eventually

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no-nightingales-iwanttodie · 1 year ago

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Here's a batshit crazy thought I had about the ending of gomens 2. I talked to my friend about it cause neither of us had really been able to talk to another human being about our heartbreak. When she said "oh and about the ending where you see aziraphale smile in the elevator" I got this immediate rush that something was wrong and for some reason my first thought was "they switched again".

I have thought more about it, it could be fun, but I don't know how credulous that idea is because WHAT? Right?

But honestly just imagine it. For fun. I know that's not what happened (even tho we don't actually I'm know yet) but imagine if they did indeed switch.

Crowley!aziraphale touching his lips because he did it. He kissed aziraphale.

Aziraphale!Crowley waiting outside of the Bentley in case it goes awry now that it's not "just" archangels and dukes of hell they're fooling but the metatron themself. Driving away quietly and under the speed limit because it's aziraphale, he's not breaking any laws.

Crowley!aziraphale giving that smile in the elevator because oh my Satan it might have worked!

It could be an interesting start of gomens 3

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #neil gaiman

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doonarose · 10 months ago

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What is 'Crashing' about?

Crashing is a 3400 word framework that I haven't look at in a month. I wrote it as some sort of therapy after I hit a kangaroo in my brand new car. It would be a longer multi-chapter human AU fic (something I've never done) in which Crowley and Aziraphale meet on a dark rainy night after Crowley swerves to try to avoid hitting a deer and crashes into Az. They're both fine, cars are a bit fucked, deer is injured and Crowley basically commits to doing everything possible to nurse it back to life, including waking up the local vet in the middle of the night and throwing money at surgery.

Az knows the vet because has has a hobby farm where he rescues and rehabs injured and runty goats.

Both cars are too fucked to drive (the Bentley only makes it to the vet because Crowley wills it to (not really, he's human remember, but the axle is bent and so they are stuck)) and it's like 2am so Crowley ends up back at Aziraphale's little cottage/farm and they fuck. That feels like it comes out of no where but adrenaline, etc., and right before the vet calls to say the deer's on the mend which makes Crowley very happy.

Anyway... that's basically meant to be a one night stand except their lives kind of intertwine because of course Aziraphale takes on the deer rehab and Crowley's grown attached. And also Crowley's realized Aziraphale's got no money and now a totally fucked up car, but also doesn't want any charity.

Did I mention Crowley works in some sort of gross property finance roll and that his company is trying to buy out Aziraphale's hobby farm to build a highway or something. And basically forces that through... even though for a very long time (And several more unavoidable, definitely the last time, i'm just here to see the deer, one night stands) Aziraphale doesn't know Crowley's the one responsible for basically kicking him out of his home.

But then Crowley only works for the bank because it gives him the kind of power and income to do some very quiet anonymous good. Which then sees him donate substantially to the goat rescue thing. So Aziraphale will be fine, but has still lost his home.

So then the bad guy Crowley stuff comes out and Aziraphale rather hates him for it. And then eventually the penny drops that Crowley's also the good guy. And this is all very underbaked but here have a bit of the first meeting:

“Fucking fuckity fuck.”

“Are you quite alright?” Aziraphale calls as his sodden shoes slip in the mud.

The stranger whirls around like he’d thought he was alone. “Of course I’m alright. How fucking close did you need to get up my arse?”

Aziraphale’s taken aback. Hadn’t this gentleman been the one who braked, suddenly, on a narrow, dark, wet laneway, and caused the accident? Wasn’t he lucky that Aziraphale was quick-witted enough to swerve? Not that propriety would allow him to point any of that out. “Are you alright, though? No damage?”

That seems to take some of the wind out of the man’s sails. “’m fine, just… FUCK.”

It isn’t the most impressive vocabulary. “Perhaps we can exchange details and – ”

He’s waved off with a dismissive hand and the man disappears around the back of his car (which is facing forward) and into the dense trees beside the road. Aziraphale tries to scurry after him but a particularly sharp press of wind pushes him back.

“Excuse me,” he presses. “But we’ve been in an accident and I will need – “

The man appears, suddenly close to him, imposing but only to raise a finger to his lips and very loudly shush him. Then he stalks off in parallel with the road, back towards the ditch harbouring Aziraphale’s car.

Aziraphale watches him, pause and look around. “If you could perhaps – ” He’s shushed again. “Really, it’s pouring rain and – ” Again, the loud shushing. “Legally you are req – ”

“Shut it.” The spectre, barely more than a silhouette ghost, takes a sharp right and heads into the tree further.

#doonas fic #i really should revisit this #but also it would be like 75k at minimum #and i do not have that kind of stamina #doonas ask

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girlbloggercrowley · 1 year ago

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small good omens drabble for s2 trailer

or, crowley gets jumpscared by gabriel, about 600 words

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says once he has finished screaming, running out of the shop, standing on the sidewalk anxiously for a minute, peeking back into the shop only to make confused eye contact with Gabriel and scream again, and storming back into the shop, demanding Gabriel be kicked out into the side room for a few minutes and collapsing in a chair. “The Archangel Bloody Gabriel is in your bookshop.”

“I know,” Aziraphale says desperately, pacing back and forth. Crowley stares at him, eyes wide. His sunglasses are on the floor somewhere, where he dropped them when he jumped so hard he almost went back to Heaven.

“I can’t presume you just, y’know, invited him in here?”

“Oh, no,” Aziraphale says hurriedly.

“Only, see, I can’t expect he’d be too pleased to see you after the whole–”

“--yes, the Hellfire thing, nobody’s popped by to say hello–”

“--what with me breathing fire at him and all that–”

“--what with– sorry, Crowley, you did what to the superior angels of Heaven–”

“--can’t exactly imagine him stopping by–”

“--well, me neither–”

“--right.”

They stare at each other.

“He doesn’t know who he is,” Aziraphale explains. “He showed up– I didn’t really have any other option than to take him in.”

“Not sure about that,” says Crowley, who has some ideas about what Gabriel deserves. He’d seen how they treated Aziraphale up there in Heaven.

“What was I supposed to do? Send him back?” Crowley shrugs.

“Might’ve worked.” He’s still extremely rattled from the blank, friendly stare of an angel, when he expected to enter that shop and only see one very specific angel.

“They’d think we did something to him.” Aziraphale looks helpless. Crowley looks around, and takes on the slightly more chaotic and messy state of the bookshop, as contrasted by its general, normal disarray.

“Have you tried getting drunk about it?”

“Hello,” calls the side room. “Can I come out yet?”

“No,” Crowley hisses. He blinks, and finds a bottle of alcohol in his hand. They’d been leaving the two of them alone. Why, in the Almighty’s name, was Heaven now breaking that time of silence? Crowley knows he would have been perfectly happy to never hear from them again. It had been a few years, and Aziraphale and him had settled into something like a domestic, comfortable routine. There may have still been a discussion to be had. Crowley was putting it off. He thought about it, sometimes, and then got very anxious and went to go terrorize the empty roads of small English towns with the Bentley. Cause everything was so good.

Sure, Aziraphale and him didn’t have a word for it, and Crowley was, oh about ninety five but not a hundred percent sure that Aziraphale knew he, you know, cared about him and all that, and the way Aziraphale looks at him gives Crowley the pretty certain idea that Aziraphale feels the same way. It was so good. Why take a chance at ruining it?

Because it could be better, a voice in Crowley’s head says, and he mentally hits it with his Bentley. At any rate, they’ve got no time for things like that now, what with sodding archangels showing up and pretending they didn’t know who they were.

Right.

“We,” says Crowley, getting to his feet, “are going to drive into the London countryside, and find a nice hill. Then we are going to get drunk. Then, we will figure out what the fuck is happening.” Aziraphale smiles at him weakly, and something inside Crowley jumps around and does a stupid little dance. Yippee, it says. Nice! He adds to the Bentley’s body count, viciously.

“That sounds like a plan, dear boy,” the angel sighs, and leads the way out of the shop.

They go and do exactly that.

Inside a little bookshop in Soho, something falls off a shelf in a side room.

“Erm. Hello,” the side room says. “What about now?”

#good omens #go 2 #good omens 2 #good omens fic #crowley #aziraphale #good omens spoilers #^ just for trailer #archangel gabriel #arch's archives

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arrowflier · 1 year ago

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Nothing is Forever--A Good Omens Fic

Rating: G

Summary: It’s been a long, long time since Crowley prayed. But what else do you call it when you can’t stop talking to someone in Heaven?

Read Chapter 1 below or on AO3

The doors close. The elevator goes up. And Crowley’s hopes sink like stones.

Silly things, hopes. Float right there at the edge of your reach, little tiny rocks with no weight, but only until you reach for them. Only until you cause the ripple the sends them under.

Crowley’s never moved slowly enough, gently enough, to avoid that ripple. It moves as fast as he does, as quickly as he can turn to look at the women he shouldn’t have listened to. Nina is in her shop, toiling away for customers that couldn’t even give her a few minutes grace for opening late. Maggie is fast asleep in full view of her own window, with nothing to show for her efforts but a wait that may never end. And across the street, seen from the corner of his eye, the wrong angel closes the doors to the bookshop.

“We both get plenty of use out of it,” Aziraphale had said. Well, not anymore. He wouldn’t be surprised if the dim-witted new angel has already reset the wards.

A car honks down the street. A woman bumps his shoulder on the way to the shops. Life on earth adapts to its new course, and none of them the wiser.

And Crowley, slower than he ever has before, gets into the car.

For the briefest of moments, Crowley thinks about going to the Ritz. “An extremely alcoholic breakfast” he had said to that simpering child of an angel, and he might as well go through with it. Might as well drink both their shares of champagne and watch the humans enjoy their freedom, taste a little bit of his own.

“What do you think, angel?” he asks the presence that isn’t there. That’s already disappeared from his senses. “I deserve a bit of a reward, don’t I? Earning your forgiveness and all.”

And afterwards, he thinks as he makes the turn toward the restaurant, he can sleep. A few hundred years should help him forget what Aziraphale’s face had looked like when he dropped that load of horse shit.

There’s a parking space right out front—his usual. The table in the window is empty but for a single glass of wine and a crystal decanter, shining faintly under soft white lights. A single bird flies over the road, the beginning notes of a song whistling from its beak as the car approaches.

The bird bounces off the Bentley’s windscreen, and the car keeps going. Crowley doesn’t stop it.

—

He ends up on the road out of London without knowing how he got there. Not that that’s a hard thing to do—he designed these roads after all, and they were nothing if not demonically difficult to navigate.

“What in somebody’s name are you up to?” he asks the Bentley, which responds by accelerating. It had been poking along at three below the limit ever since Aziraphale borrowed it, but now it reaches ten over.

“Not what I meant,” Crowley mutters, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “But I suppose that’s better.”

He drives on in silence, closing the distance to wherever he’s going. Funny, that—not the lack of direction, but the lack of music. No Queen, no “be-bop”, no classical orchestra like Aziraphale had trained it to play. Just the sound of wheels on pavement.

Wheels that squeal as the Bentley speeds past a bus load of children and merges back over too quickly, nearly taking out the driver. The bus swerves, front end going half off the motorway, and Crowley snaps his fingers without a thought.

The bus rights itself. The Bentley slows down. And Glen Campbell starts crooning from the speakers.

You've got to try a little kindness Yes, show a little kindness

“Oi, none of that now,” Crowley berates the car, jabbing at the controls. “That wasn’t kind, I only did it so Aziraphale wouldn’t—”

He stops, knuckles white on the wheel, and carefully doesn’t look at the empty seat next to him.

If you see your brother standing by the road With a heavy load from the seeds he sowed

“Oh, shut up,” Crowley snarls at the disobedient tape deck. “I didn’t sow a damned thing, alright? It’s not my fault he—”

And if you see your sister falling by the way Just stop and say, "You're going the wrong way"

“You think I didn’t try that?” He pounds a fist on the dash. “I tried everything, you good-for-nothing hunk of metal. Why didn’t you stop him?”

The car doesn’t answer. And despite his best efforts, the music keeps playing.

“This is your fault, angel,” Crowley grumbles as he presses the pedal down and speeds up again. “Got me bloody well trained, haven’t you?” He’s going ten over, twenty, thirty.

You've got to try a little kindness

He takes a turn too fast, nearly drives headlong into a truck that miraculously swerves to miss him.

Yes, show a little kindness

He passes a speed limit sign, and the Bentley automatically slows to match it.

“Shut up,” he orders the absent angel as he allows it. “No fun anyway without your wide eyes and your clutching at the door.”

Just shine your light for everyone to see

The Bentley’s head lamps flick on as he drives into a tunnel, and Crowley only sighs.

—

He drives until it gets dark. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t gotten anywhere yet—probably should have been in the ocean by now—but that hardly matters. The sky is black, his mood is blacker, and the Bentley has decided he’s done.

“Bloody traitor,” he hisses as it sputters to a stop at the edge of the road, it’s fuel gauge firmly pointing to zero. “When did you even learn about petrol?”

And I've been putting out the fire with gasoline Putting out the fire With gasoline

“Using Bowie against me, really?” Crowley complains, then smacks the console. The music skips, but doesn’t stop.

See these tears so blue An ageless heart that can never mend

“If you can play music, you can drive,” he tells the car, and presses the pedal down.

He’s immediately plunged into silence and darkness as the music and the headlamps turn off, and his head falls back against the seat as he groans.

But in the absence of the headlamps, the road around him begins to glow in a much softer light. The faint twinkle of far-away stars glints off the glass of the windscreen, stretched long to his astigmatic eyes. A million million pinpricks of light cutting through the shadows.

“Well,” Crowley mutters to himself, taking off his ever-present sunglasses. “That’s alright then.”

It’s been a long time since he’s seen this many stars. His eyes stay on them as he opens the car door, slithering out into the night. There’s Leo, and Virgo. Canis Major and Minor. Orion, that flash bastard with his stupid belt. Familiar sights, and not—or at least, not from this angle.

“Don’t remember that one,” he muses as he leans back against the hood of the car, door still ajar. He’s staring at a small cluster of stars settled between Jupiter and Venus. “It’s got nothing on alpha centauri, but it’s not bad, is it?”

The empty air beside him doesn’t answer. He leans more of his weight against the hood of the Bentley, elbows braced on its still warm metal.

“Still a little bitter about that one, you know,” Crowley goes on. “Best thing I ever did, and it’s barely had time to start.”

It hurts, still. That, and other things. But here in the solitude of the highway at midnight, the hurt is a little bit softer.

And apparently, so is Crowley.

“Wish we could have seen it again,” he murmurs. His hand strokes absently at the side of the Bentley, but it stays quiet. It knows his words are not for it.

“You liked it back then, I know you did,” Crowley continues. “Wanted to show you how it was turning out. Show you what we made.”

A star blurs, seeming to move as he watches it. He blinks his oddly dry eyes, and it’s gone.

“’M sure they’ve got some big plan for you to work on up there,” he says, “But if you think of it, maybe leave that bit of the universe alone.”

The Bentley purrs back to life under him, though the lights stay off. Frank Sinatra starts to play through the open door, and suddenly Crowley has never been more tired.

Fly me to the moon Let me play among the stars

He folds himself into the car, laying sideways across the seat.

And let me see what spring is like on A-Jupiter and Mars

The leather of the passenger seat is warm under his head, as if someone has just gotten up. Or as if they’re still there.

In other words Hold my hand

Air filters through the Bentley’s vents, pushing Crowley’s hair back with a warm breeze.

In other words Baby, kiss me

His eyes slip shut, and he’s faintly aware of a soft, targeted pressure on each lid as he drifts off.

— Crowley wakes to sunshine, warmth, and the screech of tires as the Bentley comes to an abrupt stop. He tumbles half off the seat, catching himself with one hand against the glovebox. It pops open under his palm, spilling out a mix of black sunglasses and bright yellow candies.

“What,” Crowley croaks as the car starts to move again, sending candies tumbling across the floor, “the fuck.”

The Bentley doesn’t answer. Crowley rights himself as it purrs its way through an intersection, ending up on the wrong side of the bench seat just in time to catch the horrified eyes of another driver. He shrugs—what can he do—then kicks the Bentley right in the console.

“Where are you taking me?” he hisses, scrambling over to sit properly in the driver’s seat.

The car doesn’t answer. Crowley jabs at the buttons of the radio, for once wanting to hear its enigmatic attempts at lyrical communication, but all he gets is static and a few stray notes of something he doesn’t recognize. Then:

“That was Two of Us by the Beatles, coming to you from the favorite station of the South Downs! Next up, get ready for “Take me Home Tonight” by—”

The grainy voice cuts off into silence as Crowley violently cranks down the volume. He fumbles blindly at the floor until his fingers find a pair of sunglasses, and shoves them so hard onto his nose that they crack against his brow. Squinting through the darkened glass, he makes out a few old, traditional looking buildings lining the street as the Bentley takes a sharp left into what must be a town square.

The Bentley eases to a stop, much more gently this time, at the edge of a wide green space. A nearby child kicks a ball right at it’s bumper that misses by inches, rolling into the street.

The kid runs for their toy just as a sedan rounds the corner opposite, and Crowley is out of the car in seconds.

“Don’t be so stupid,” he hisses at the little girl, now holding her ball in the middle of the green and blinking dazedly at the spot she had just been occupying. “Stay out of the blasted street.”

He waits for the child to nod, young eyes still wide and confused, before striding back to the Bentley.

“Nobody raises their damned kids these days,” he mutters, a fraction too loudly to be meant only for himself. “Ours was smarter than that.”

He pauses midstep.

“Well, maybe not,” he concedes to an unspoken argument. “But at least he wouldn’t have gotten himself run over. Not after you put the fear of somebody into him the first time he stepped in front of our car.”

Our car. He scowls, but he doesn’t take it back. He walks past said car instead, crosses the street with purpose. What purpose he’s not sure, but there must be one.

And to start with, he decides that it’s to find himself a drink.

There’s a pub right on the corner, luckily enough. Dark next to the cheery cafe it shares an awning with, with heavy wooden doors that he pushes through with a little too much force.

Inside, he blinks. It’s bright for a pub. Not because the lights are any good--just the usual dim bulbs under dark, colored glass—but because the tall windows let the sun shine all the way through to land, faintly yellow, on the back wall. It casts shadows around a line of glass bottles shelved behind the bar, and the person standing under them.

The only other people in the pub are a drunkard still building off last night’s binge and Crowley, whose emotional whiplash is having much the same effect as he takes his place on a high stool.

The barkeep’s back is turned, so he taps on the wooden bar top to get their attention. It’s sturdy in the way only old things are, worn pale in the pattern of the people it serves. His elbow finds a smooth groove in the wood as he leans forward, his opposite hand skating over a set of initials carved underneath. Two letters, with a symbol between that catches the pads of his fingers.

“What’s your poison?”

His hand drops away from the bar as he meets dark brown eyes.

“Is it too early to for alcohol?”

It’s an honest question; he has absolutely no idea what time it is. But the barkeeper smiles at him, a wry twist to her lips as she nods toward the only other man at the bar.

“He’s had two pints already,” she confides lowly. “So if anything, you’re late.”

Crowley snorts, the sound startling the other bar-goer. The man chokes on his drink, coughs a bit back into the glass, then keeps drinking. Crowley grimaces.

“Wine, then,” he orders, looking away. “Blood red.”

“Hmm.” The barkeep frowns for a moment, peering under the counter. She reaches down and picks up one bottle in each hand.

“Papercut red,” she asks, lifting the rose in her left, “or something a little deeper?” She shakes the darker bottle in her right, and Crowley inclines his head to it.

“Deepest red you’ve got,” he demands. “Old, dried out. Aching.”

“You got it,” she agrees easily, making no mention of his choice of descriptors. He rather likes her for it. She turns to grab a glass, and keeps speaking over her shoulder.

“So what brings you in?” she asks. “We don’t get a lot of new folks round here.”

“Was driving,” Crowley answers.

She waits a moment, glancing back, then nods and pours his drink.

“That is a common way to get places these days,” she says, sliding it over to him. “Drove in myself this morning.”

“’N you were late,” accuses the drunk from his spot three seats down.

“Sorry I couldn’t control the traffic, Tom,” the barkeep answers dryly. “You try to keep the tourists from blocking the beach roads.”

“I hear some false signs can do wonders for that,” Crowley can’t help but suggest, and she barks a laugh.

“Might try that one of these days,” she muses, but shakes her head. “My partner wouldn’t like it much though. Always on me to play nice with others, she is.”

Crowley frowns into his wine. Swallows it down and pushes the glass across for more.

“I know the type.”

“Oh?” the barkeep asks. “Yours the same, then?” She looks him up and down, eyebrows rising. “No offense meant, but you don’t seem the type to go for nice girls.”

“’M not.”

She seems to accept that at face value as he accepts his refilled glass, and he drinks in silence for a moment before breaking it himself.

“He was a bit of a bastard,” he finds himself saying, “and he left me.”

“His loss,” she says, but he shakes his head.

“Left me for fucking heaven.”

From the corner of his eye, he can see her face fall from sympathy to horror.

“Oh shit,” she breathes. “Sorry.”

“S’alright.” He drinks again. “Wanted me to go with him, but I couldn’t do it.”

“I…”. She swallows. “That’s probably good.”

“Nah, I don’t do the right thing,” Crowley corrects. “Never have, no matter how many times he said I did.” His glass is empty again, and he frowns at it. “Not the wrong thing either, but we were never good at grey.”

And it’s too much, now. The light, the wine, the conversation with the wrong person. He pushes back from his stool, nearly falls flat on his face when he misjudges the distance to the floor. He catches himself on the counter, thumb finding that little carved heart underneath, and lurches back as if it burns.

“You said there’s a beach around here?” he asks without looking back, and he’s out the door before the barkeep can answer.

—

“Remember when we went to the beach angel?”

Crowley isn’t pretending anymore. It’s been a long time since he prayed, but what else do you call it when you talk to someone in Heaven? He’s not surprised, though, when he doesn’t get an answer.

He never got answers before, either.

“Long time ago, that,” he continues, “Long, long time ago.”

He takes a swig from the wine bottle that had miraculously appeared in the sand when the tide went down. He’s been sitting here an hour or so already, just watching the waves go about their endless routine.

In and out, ever since the Beginning.

In and out, even while the world falls apart.

“I thought I’d been lonely, back then when I lied to you about it.” Leaning back, he braces a hand in the sand. It slides through his fingers, warm and solid, then settles.

“Turns out it wasn’t really a lie. Just didn’t know what loneliness was.”

A gull cries overhead, and Crowley chuckles. His eyes are dry, but his throat is thick and sore.

“That’s the thing about loneliness, I guess. It’s not just about being alone.” He sets the wine bottle aside, falls back further into the sand.

“It’s about not being with the right person.”

Because Aziraphale, Crowley knows now, had always been the right person. Had been there the whole time, even when they weren’t together.

“I can manage,” Crowley promises. He looks up, away from the water, toward the sky. “Don’t give up that easy, me. I’ve got the car, and I’ll find a place, and I’ll settle in for a good long nap.”

Maybe he’ll stay here, he thinks. Nothing left in London anymore, but there’s something about this town. What had Aziraphale said, back in Tadfield? That the whole place felt like love? Crowley hadn’t noticed; he’d just thought it felt like Aziraphale. But right here, on this beach, in the wind and the sun and the sand, he was starting to feel something familiar.

“A good, long nap,” he repeats firmly, starting to plan. “And by the time I wake up, maybe—”

A beach ball hits him in the face.

He stops short and stares at it, at its wedges of primary colors against his sandy black jeans. The sun glows off its white apex, the light cutting through his sunglasses like they’re nothing.

“Sorry mister!”

A group of young boys come running up from down the shore, kicking up sand in their wake. Crowley has no idea where they came from—the beach had been empty when he sat down. They pause a few meters away as one breaks free from the rest, a sheepish smile on his sun-reddened face.

“Can we have our ball back, please?” He points at the beachball that now lies, perfectly balanced, on Crowley’s very unbalanced lap. “Only we gotta be home by dark, and the sun won’t last forever.”

“No,” Crowley agrees, and hands the ball over. “Nothing lasts forever.”

The boy grins, and runs off to his friends. They throw the ball out onto the water and chase after it.

Despite the waves, it floats.

#good omens #fanfic #crowley/aziraphale #good omens spoilers #sorry shameless folks I'll be back when the brainrot dies down #but these two have been in my head for twenty years #also they made drafts so hard to find on the new tumblr desktop wtf

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ofpineapplesanddawns · 1 year ago

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exchanging gifts for the first time with ...I think It was cyborg Crowley/Arthur/and android Aziraphale with doc oc arms? The sci fi throuple. Well, one of the two sci fi throuples.

Ah yes, the sci-fi android au that went in a very, VERY different direction from what I originally planned (assassin android Crowley and former assassin human Aziraphale going from enemies to friends to lovers, but I like this new one better cause Arthur is there. :D)

Warning: android Aziraphale looks a bit like Castor from Tron, Crowley is a cyborg, Arthur is just Arthur and we love him for that

On with the fic!

"I can't believe you made me a birthday drink that actually tastes like birthday cake." Crowley said, taking a long sip. "And it doesn't make me want to throw up."

Arthur smiled at him from behind the counter. "I am an expert at my profession."

"Damn right you are." Crowley smirked.

The club was closed for the night, on account of it being Crowley's birthday, and Aziraphale stating he had a surprise for Crowley that he didn't want an audience for. So far, the android had not shown up and Crowley was a little worried.

"You sure he's here?" He asked, turning back to Arthur.

"I am very aware that Mr. Fell is currently in the building and is in his office."

"Then why hadn't he shown up yet? Does he have cold feet or something?"

"Considering that most of the heat his body produces is located in his chest and head, I would say that, yes, Mr. Fell has cold feet."

Crowley stared at Arthur before snorting and then laughing hard. "Damnit, Arthur, one day you're gonna have to learn what a phrase is."

Before Arthur could reply, the doors opened and Aziraphale came into the room, holding something in his hands while his robotic arms walked him to the bar. "Sorry that took so long, I had to wrap it exactly to how I see fit."

And that meant that it looked perfect, not a crease or corner out of place. It was wrapped in gold foil with a silver ribbon tied up around it. "This is for you, enjoy."

Crowley rolled his eyes at the bluntness of Aziraphale's words, but he knew better by now that this was just how Aziraphale was. In an act of spite, he tore open the paper without much thought and looked at the little box now in his hands.

Looked like a jewelry box, which had Crowley curious. He didn't really wear much, sometimes the metal in rings and bracelets reacted weirdly with his cyborg arms, or got caught in the joints. He opened the box and started at the key and little keychain attached to it.

"I hope you like." Aziraphale stated. "It's a gift from Arthur and I."

"You... you got me a car?" Crowley asked.

"Not just any car." Arthur spoke. "A Bentley. Very rare model, a classic from the 1930s, the one you told me was your dream car and- oh dear, you seem to be crying. Did we do wrong?"

Crowley sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. "N-no, fuck, you did nothin' wrong...! You got me a fuckin' car for my birthday!"

"Yes?" Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. "Is that the right- oof!" Suddenly his arms were full of a sobbing Crowley, who was thanking the two of them over and over.

Crowley got his precious Bentley from his rich boyfriends. And then he promptly drives it over 90 miles an hour down Oxford Street and nearly makes Aziraphale pass out from how terrifyingly fast the old car can go.

#john's drabbles #good omens extended universe

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yellobb · 8 months ago

Text

Op, I hope this is okay, but I was inspired.

Edit: I JUST NOTICED THE SNAKE CRAWLED ONTO AZIRAPHALE SO I HAVE UPDATED ACCORDINGLY

—————

“Angel, just shut up and get in the car!” Crowley shouted, practically throwing the door to the Bentley open and shoving Aziraphale inside before he could protest. He barely spared a glance at the other being that the angel had returned with.

“You can come too, but if you’re not in the car when I get in then I’m leaving without you.”

“I think I’d rather take my chances with you,” Jesus said hurriedly and maneuvered himself into the back seat. He barely got the door shut before Crowley was already speeding through central London.

“Crowley! Be careful! We cannot afford disincorporation right now, my dear boy.”

“I’m not your dear boy,” Crowley snarled.

The car went silent aside from the ever-present sound of Queen.

Under pressure, that brings a building down

Splits a family in two

Puts people on streets

Jesus fidgeted awkwardly with the hem of the button-up Aziraphale had given him.

“Crowley, I know you’re hurting….”

“Aziraphale. We can talk about this now or I can save all our arses and stop bloody Armageddon from happening again!”

Aziraphale bit his lip and furrowed his brows. He’d known Crowley had been miserable since he returned to Heaven, but seeing the tense line of his normally so relaxed shoulders and his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel in person made it feel much more real. He glanced back at Jesus who just shrugged in return.

Aziraphale had thought of thousands of ways to apologize and reassure his demon that he was cherished beyond measure. He’d come up with a carefully crafted speech in the long, endless hours sat alone at his desk. He knew what he wanted to say, and yet…

“I love you.”

The Bentley swerved to avoid a pedestrian and Crowley’s head whipped to the side. “Wot?!”

Aziraphale was a bit mortified that he’d failed so spectacularly in saying what he wanted to say. (Not that he didn’t want to say this too, of course, but he did have tact). (Or, at least, he’d read Pride and Prejudice enough times to know what a lack of it looked like). Nevertheless, he squared his shoulders and tipped his chin up indignantly, meeting Crowley’s gaze through his sunglasses.

“I love you, Crowley, and I’m sorry I left you. I know you don’t fully understand why I did it, but I need you to know that it was not because of you. It was for you. I wanted to try to make Heaven into the place you once believed it to be—the place you deserved. I know I went about it in all the wrong ways, as I tend to. You know how much of an old silly I can be. I absolutely adore you and I promise never to leave you agai— Mmph!”

Aziraphale’s monologue was abruptly cut off by Crowley lunging at him and giving him a bruising kiss. Aziraphale immediately melted with relief, wrapping his arms around the demon and pulling him close. All that was on his mind was just Crowley, Crowley, Crowley.

Crowley abruptly pulled away, one hand still tangled in Aziraphale’s hair. Aziraphale was so dazed that it took him a moment to register what was wrong.

The Bentley was not playing Queen.

Jesus, take the wheel

Take it from my hands

‘Cause I can’t do this on my own

In the heat of the moment, Aziraphale had completely forgotten that Crowley was supposed to be driving. Luckily, it seemed that their other passenger had not.

“Listen, I’m happy for you, but really?” Jesus asked, arching an eyebrow as he kept his eyes firmly on the road. He was halfway out of his seat in the back and clutching the steering wheel.

Aziraphale blushed and felt something wriggle on his cheek. He blinked and reached a hand up to touch it. He felt the wriggling move down his finger

“Oi, shut it! It’s not too late for me to kick you out, you know.”

Jesus’ eyebrow rose even higher and he gestured with his free hand to the steering wheel. “Do you want to take over or would you rather keep making out with the angel you’ve been pining over for at least 2,000 years now?”

Crowley grumbled at that, but his face reddened. Aziraphale couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation. He giggled even harder when he realized the wiggling creature had been Crowley’s snake tattoo. It must have migrated to his face while they were kissing. It warmed Aziraphale’s heart like no cup of tea or cocoa ever could.

Don’t stop me now!

I’m having such a good time

I’m having a ball

“Yeah, fine. Whatever. My own car isn’t even on my side anymore.”

“Our.”

“Hm?” Crowley looked back at Aziraphale. Aziraphale dearly wished he could take of Crowley’s sunglasses, but he knew that now was not the time.

“Our car,” he said firmly, giving Crowley a squeeze. “Our side.” He brushed Crowley’s hair back, taking a moment to linger on where the snake tattoo usually sat by his ear. The little snake slithered back to its rightful place. “Our.” He gave the snake tattoo a peck, fighting a smile.

“Ngk, mm, yeah. Our. Got it.” Crowley stumbled out, face now almost as fiery as his hair.

Aziraphale smiled softly at him. “Well then, I believe we have a bit more time to work things out, thanks to our dear old friend.”

“Don’t mention it,” Jesus called back sarcastically.

“So,” Aziraphale continued, “why don’t we continue where we left off? After all, I’ve missed you so fervently these past few months.”

He didn’t need to say anything more before Crowley was on him again like a man starved.

Piece I made for Easter based on the popular meme!

Jesus is risen and takes the wheel: I imagine a heated discussion, the Bentley calming things down with a romantic song and…vawoom!

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#m contributes #good omens #m writes #first public good omens fic can I get a wahoo?#no but seriously I love this op #thank you for sharing your delightful art ❤️#I’m going feral over the snake tattoo

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finleycannotdraw · 4 years ago

Text

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

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

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

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

Crowley apologizes

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

Aziraphale blushes!!!!!!

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

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

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

Pollution is very cleverly compared to actual pollution

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crowley glares at the Bentley and it fixes itself

Anathema’s bike is called Phaeton

COULD THEY ACT ANY MORE MARRIED OH MY GOD

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

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

Crowley does not slam Aziraphale into the wall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adam is excellent at slouching, apparently

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

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

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

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

Wensleydale watches David Attenborough programs

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

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

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

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

Aziraphale calls Shadwell “dear boy” on the phone

Agnes Nutter called God a daft old fool #goals

Adam is wayyyy too good at video games

Smelling Anathema’s perfume makes Newt uncomfortable

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

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

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

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

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

The fuckin’ footnote on page 227

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

It never actually says what Crowley does to his plants.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Madame Tracy: You old silly. Shadwell:

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

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

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

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

Crowley isn’t breathing the entire burning Bentley scene

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The Four Button-Pressers of the Apocalypse”

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

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

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

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

I just ADORE THIS BOOK OKAY

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

Aziraphale and Crowley are so fuckin married I can’t

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banrionceallach · 4 years ago

Text

Reverse AU Crowley/Harry Omens Short

This will only make sense if you’ve read both my main fic and my scraps on AO3. Posting it anyway.

Raphael is still here.

He is still here and he keeps smiling at Aziraphale all the time.

Aziraphale keeps smiling back.

Crowley hates it.

He is not jealous, he tells himself, as he watches Raphael sit on a couch in the back of the bookshop. Raphael is currently pouring over an arcane text that Aziraphale thinks might solve the ‘angel from an alternate universe’ problem.

Crowley has known Aziraphale for six thousand years. He has argued and dined with and gotten drunk with the angel innumerable times. They’re best friends. Aziraphale walked into hell for him and sassed Michael into the bargain. He knows Aziraphale loves him. They are raising (another) child together, for Someone’s sake. Some alternate universe angel is not going to change that.

Even if he is basically a better version of Crowley.

Stupid angelic tosser. With his stupid round pupils and his stupid white wings and his stupid long braided hair that Aziraphale spent a whole minute complimenting after lunch.

( It is just possible that Crowley is trying to grow his hair out as quickly and discreetly as possible.)

Currently Crowley is alone with the Archangel Bloody Raphael, because the aforementioned child that Crowley and his angel are raising together had a sleepover with the former antichrist and Aziraphale has gone to Tadfield to pick him up and also consult the local witch on their Alternate Universe Angel problem. Normally picking up Harry from a friend’s house is something Crowley does in the Bentley, but today the knowledge that that would have left Aziraphale alone with Raphael for over an hour had made him strongly suggest that Aziraphale should go, and use the opportunity to consult the witch.

Crowley really hopes Book Girl has something. He doesn’t know how much more of the archangel’s presence he can take without jumping across the room and trying to claw his stupid perfect eyes out.

He notices the other red-head has put down his book and is looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“What are you looking at?” he demands.

Raphael shrugs innocently. “I was just surprised you didn’t go to Tadfield instead of Aziraphale.” He waves a hand at the piles of esoteric text cluttered around the room. “It would have been more efficient for you to bring Anathema here while we continued to research, wouldn’t it?”

“Leaving Aziraphale alone with you?” Crowley snaps, with rather more honesty than he prefers. “Not likely!”

Raphael arches a fine auburn eyebrow. “Are you always this possessive?” he asks and damn him, there is actual genuine concern in his tone. Who is he to be concerned about Aziraphale? He has his own version, yes? That he should be wanting to get back to? A tiny part of Crowley still doubts that. He can’t imagine a demon Aziraphale, can’t imagine Aziraphale Falling.

It hurts to think about.

“Possessive?” Crowley sputters, wrenching his mind away from the possibility of a horrified spiral into guilt. “I am not!”

And the thing is, he isn’t. Not usually. But of course, it occurs to him, it’s been rather easy to not be possessive when he can be safe in the knowledge that no one else on the planet has a hope of competing for Aziraphale’s affection. Not humans, not other demons, definitely not other angels.

Except now, there is another angel. An angel who never fell, still bathing in Her favour. With Crowley’s face. And, key point, without the more demonic attributes caused by the Fall.

He is polite and gentle and exudes a puppy-like bouncy enthusiasm and he keeps smiling at Aziraphale and Crowley hates everything about him.

“Really?”

“Really,” Crowley snaps back, baring his fangs. “I am concerned for his safety. For all I know, this could still be some trick by Above and Below to attack us. You could be in on it.”

“You really are very suspicious, aren’t you?” Raphael says, grinning like Crowley has just said something amusing.

“Demon,” Crowley snaps. “Goes with the job description. Suspicious, sly, evil demon.” He notes with satisfaction that his blunt reference to his status makes Raphael go pale and twitch slightly. Good.

“You’re not that demonic,” Raphael says softly after a moment, giving him a considering look. “I think Azirafell is worse. Better, I mean. At demoning.”

This is too much.

Crowley snarls and surges to his feet. “I,” he hisses, “am the Serpent in the Garden. The Fall of Man? Humanity exiled from Eden never to return? That was me. For six-thousand years I was Hell’s favourite demon. Don’t go thinking I am soft!”

Of course, it’s at this moment that Harry runs into the room, having just got back from Tadfield. “Dad! Dad! Is it true?”

Crowley draws his fangs back in so fast there’s an almost audible click. “Is what true?”

Harry is about to reply when he spots Raphael. Raphael stares at him, wide-eyed. Harry stares back, fascinated.

“Wow,” the nearly-thirteen-year-old breathes. “You really do look just like Dad! Weird!” Then Harry frowns. “Why don’t you have the cool eyes, though?”

Crowley flips from cursing Harry’s sense of timing to grinning widely. He and his angel have the Best Son. Objectively. It is fact.

Raphael makes a strangled noise. “Dad?” he manages to wheeze, still staring at Harry.

They had not mentioned Harry up until now as a precaution. Just in case Raphael was part of a plot against them. Watching Raphael almost choke in shock, Crowley is extra glad they’d not mentioned the young wizard.

He still has to squash the urge to snap ‘yes, this is our son’ in his most smug tone of voice. Crowley loves Harry and is not under any circumstances going to use him to score against the annoying stupid archangel who will be punted back to his own universe as soon as possible.

So instead he just waves, wiggling his fingers insouciantly at the Archangel. “That’s me.”

(It’s also Aziraphale, as well as James Potter, sadly deceased. People who start talking to Harry when he mentions his father soon learn to be alert for context clues.)

Raphael coughs, clearing his throat. “You’ve . . . adopted a child?” he says weakly.

“That’s right,” beams Aziraphale, who has just walked into the room behind Harry.

“Stole,” Crowley corrects. “We stole him. Evil, remember.”

“More like rescued,” says Harry, the little traitor. Raphael gives him a watery smile.

It turns out that (to Crowley’s great relief) Aziraphale has brought back a way to get Raphael home. Unfortunately, the ritual to do it takes hours to set up.

Raphael spends most of that time trying not to stare at Harry. He doesn’t really succeed.

Eventually, since they are now guaranteed to be archangel-free very soon, Crowley grudgingly explains how Harry came to be living with them.

Raphael is appalled.

“What do you mean, this headmaster knew and just left him with those people for ten years?” he hisses, his golden eyes narrow with outrage.

“He’d convinced himself that the blood ward was the only resort,” Aziraphale explains.

“Bullshit,” snaps Raphael and for a second Crowley almost likes him.

“Quite,” Aziraphale says. “We were less than happy with the state of affairs ourselves.”

“No kidding,” the archangel mutters. Right,” he says decisively. “Is that circle ready to get me home? I need to take a quick trip to Surrey. Just to check on something.”

It is possible, Crowley thinks, as Raphael steps into the circle and disappears in a flash, that the archangel will find that there is no alternate Harry. Or perhaps there’s no alternate Voldemort. Or Dumbledore. Who knows?

***

Harry Potter, aged almost thirteen, ran from Number 4 Privet Drive, his suitcase and his owl’s travelling cage thumping beside him. His could feel his heart jumping in his chest. He had never been so angry in his life. Why had he listened to Aunt Marge? Why hadn’t he done the smart thing and excused himself to the loo when she’d started to talk?

What was he going to do now?

A noise and sudden light, caught his attention. It was a car, approaching fast. When it reached Harry, it skidded to a stop. He backed away, fumbling for his wand.

Then the passenger’s window rolled down, and a man’s head emerged. “Hello,” the man said in a cheerful voice. “Harry, isn’t it?”

Harry gasped and backed away further.

“Look,” said the man, “I don’t normally get involved in these things, but my friend here” – he waved vaguely towards the driver, a man with long waves of red hair- “seems to think you need help.” The man squinted at Harry. “And from the looks of it, he’s right.”

An enraged roar, familiar to Harry, echoed out of the night.

Uncle Vernon, furious and getting closer.

“Alright,” said the driver, speaking for the first time, “that’s enough of that.”

Harry heard the sound of clicking fingers and suddenly found himself in the car’s back seat with Hedwig’s cage next to him. His seatbelt had already fastened itself. The big black dog, which he’d almost tripped over earlier, was sitting on the car floor and looking extremely puzzled.

“Really dear,” said the man in the passenger seat to the driver as the car sped off, Vernon Dursley’s furious shouts receding into the distance “Did you have to bring the dog too?”

“Yep. He’s a good dog.”

Harry swallowed and finally managed to speak. “People will come looking for me,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

The man in the passenger seat smiled at him. “Well I do hope so, my boy.” He nodded towards his friend. “Raf here is quite keen to give Albus Dumbledore a piece of his mind.”

#Good Omens #Harry Potter #Reverse Omens #Crossover crossover #because it makes me happy

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chaos-ineffable · 5 years ago

Text

Snakeskin

I’m a tad bit late but here’s some snuddles (snake cuddles) for the Great Good Omens Snake Off. I haven’t written in a bit and forgot how much fun it can be so this was a nice reminder!

Edit: I thought of a better name while posting to AO3 but I still like Snuddle Time

____________

Aziraphale likes to consider himself a patient man. He has dealt with a lot over the last six millennia and humans, in all their chaotic beauty, have taught him that patience is indeed a virtue. But even he has a limit.

And that limit is currently being poked, prodded, nudged, pushed, and elbowed sharply. By his darling husband, no less.

“Angel, why do we have to go again? I thought we were going to have a bit of a lie-in. Do the whole lazy morning lie-in shtick. Cuddle, snog, get some well-deserved rest. Maybe even fuck, if we felt up to it. Why are we not doing that?” Crowley whines, following Aziraphale out of the bookshop and tossing their overnight bags into the back of the Bentley. He leans against the car and folds his arms over his chest, practically radiating displeasure in Aziraphale’s direction.

“Dear,” Aziraphale sighs. He inhales slowly, reminds himself that he is, in fact, in love with the demon, and releases a calming breath. “We have been over this. Anathema and Newt need someone to watch over their cottage while they are visiting Anathema’s family in America. It is only right that we lend them a hand after everything they did to assist with Armageddon. Now, please, stop asking. We are going, whether you like it or not.”

Crowley’s face pinches in anger and he grumbles something under his breath but he doesn’t try and argue further. He pushes off the Bentley and stomps back into the bookshop.

Aziraphale watches him go and adjusts his waistcoat in annoyance. All day, Crowley has been like this – angry and picking for a fight – and Aziraphale cannot begin to fathom why. Life has been good since the failed Apocalypse. They’re finally free to live how they like, to be in love and completely entwined in each other. They’ve been happy. So Crowley’s sudden bad mood leaves the angel confused and more than a little worried. But he already promised Anathema they would be to Jasmin Cottage by this evening, so there is nothing he can do about it now other than ride out the demon’s horrible mood.

Crowley returns with the box of pastries Aziraphale had put aside for the trip. He places them in the backseat and glares at them, ensuring they won’t dare to be smashed or go stale during the drive to Tadfield. “That should be everything. Get in, angel.”

Aziraphale chooses to ignore the grumpy tone and does as he’s told, settling in for a long, silent ride.

---

No one is there to greet them when they reach the cute cottage Anathema bought shortly after helping stop the Apocalypse. There is a note on the door written in neat handwriting explaining that Newt and Anathema had had to leave earlier than expected because of a miraculous ticket switch that will get them to America at a far better time than two in the morning.

Aziraphale glares at Crowley’s back as the demon saunters into the cottage before him, bags in hand and scowl still in place. “Really, dear? We at least could have seen them off.”

Crowley rolls his eyes, the movement obvious despite his dark glasses, and sneers at Aziraphale, “Yes, right, of course. Because going out of our way to help with their damned cottage isn’t enough, we should have walked them into the plane as well. Sorry I didn’t realize this was a fulltime babysitting gig.”

“Really, Crowley, what is wrong with you today?” Aziraphale admonishes.

Crowley doesn’t respond. He growls and huffs and grumbles his way out of the cottage, slamming the door hard enough to make Aziraphale wince in sympathy for the poor frame. He shakes his head and turns away from the door, looking over the bags Crowley had dropped in the middle of the kitchen floor. With a wave of his hand, they were in the bedroom, tucked neatly under the foot of the bed.

Crowley will be back, hopefully in a better mood. In the meantime, Aziraphale could really use a cup of tea. It doesn’t take long to find all the necessary parts and he’s lounging on a soft couch with a steaming mug in no time.

He’s working on his second cup when the door opens and closes softly. He waits expectantly for Crowley to wander in, an apology on his tongue and a fine wine between his fingers. But all he gets is the even softer closing of the bedroom door.

He lets out a sigh. He can’t deny he’s worried now. It has been over a year since they broke ties with Heaven and Hell, a year since Crowley has been this upset about anything and unwilling to tell Aziraphale what is wrong. He sighs and takes a sip of tea. He’ll give Crowley a little more time.

Two hours later and Crowley has yet to leave the bedroom. Quietly, Aziraphale puts his mug down and stands. He has given Crowley long enough to address what the matter is. If he won’t come to Aziraphale, then Aziraphale will just have to go to him.

He knocks softly on the bedroom door. “Crowley, darling, can I come in?”

No response.

He knocks again and asks the same question a little bit louder. This time there’s a muffled hiss. It sounds annoyed but Aziraphale learned a long time ago that when it comes to Crowley, annoyed doesn’t necessarily mean no.

“Okay, I’m coming in.” The door swings open easily and Aziraphale stares at the sight before him.

All he sees is black and red. Loops and loops of it fill the room, coiling around the furniture, writhing and shifting constantly. It shines in the low light of the setting sun, glimmering in a way only newly revealed skin can. Around the edges of the room, tucked beneath muscular coils, is a dried-up pile of old skin. A pair of eyes stare unblinking from the mattress, a sheath of white-blue scales covering their true brilliance. A blue-black tongue flicks at the air and Crowley hisses softly. He sounds ashamed.

“Oh, my love. You should have told me you were shedding.”

Crowley hisses again, his tail flicking against Aziraphale’s wrist and wrapping gently around his arm. He shifts his head on the mattress, adjusting his coils, each the width of a small child, and pulls Aziraphale towards the bed.

Aziraphale goes willingly. “Do you need help, dear? Water, perhaps? Although it looks like you’ve got most of it off yourself. And how beautiful you look. Your scales are positively gleaming.”

There is no reaction to his praise. Crowley simply flicks his tongue out again and recoils slightly when it brushes against Aziraphale’s trousers. He recovers quickly and presses his head into Aziraphale’s hand, rubbing his snout against his wrist and working his way up, until he is nosing at Aziraphale’s face. He wraps around the angel’s shoulders and squeezes gently, hissing a soft apology into Aziraphale’s collarbone.

“My heart, there is no need to apologize. I should have asked why you did not want to come here instead of assuming I knew. Let’s both promise to work more on communicating and we can forget any of today ever happened, yes?”

Crowley unwraps himself from Aziraphale and hisses in agreement. He lowers himself back down to the mattress and rests the side of his head against Aziraphale’s fingers. This close Aziraphale gets a better look at the eye caps. They’re cloudy with a tint of blue and completely cover Crowley’s eyes. “Do you need me to pull these off, darling?”

Crowley nudges his hand again.

Aziraphale pulls away enough to inspect the area around the eye, worrying his fingers until he sees a small flap of dried skin still attached to each eye cap. With a mumbled warning and as gentle a touch as he can manage, he grabs hold and pulls each eye cap away, taking his time to ensure he doesn’t cause any harm.

Crowley lets out a hiss of relief when the second eye cap falls to the floor. He raises his head and twists, inspecting the rest of his very long body before turning to Aziraphale. His eyes, back to their full sunflower glory, are enrapturing. He flicks his tongue, waggling it against Aziraphale’s cheek.

“Oh, stop it, you old fiend,” Aziraphale laughs, stroking a hand down one of the coils near his hip. “Now, why don’t you turn back so we can do some of that cuddling you mentioned earlier.”

The last word barely leaves his lips before he finds himself thrown onto the mattress with several pounds of snake wrapped around him. Crowley rests his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder and offers some more snake kisses.

Aziraphale shakes his head fondly and wrestles an arm free, patting Crowley’s snout before miracling a book into his hand. “I suppose this works too, wily serpent,” he mumbles happily before he settles further into the comfortable weight of Crowley’s coils and prepares for a long night of snake cuddles.

#good omens #great good omens snake off #ggoso #ineffable husbands #my writing #fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #snake crowley

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vidavalor · 9 months ago

Note

<<He was not muttering, he was talking directly to Az. That wasn't overhearing, he was explicitly having a conversation with him. They were talking to each other. That's not ambiguous.>>

"The Metatron" tells Aziraphale that they have a task that they need an angel who knows Earth to oversee. That part is talking directly to Aziraphale. It's after that when he turns and starts towards the elevator and it's *then* that he mutters "We call it 'The Second Coming'" just loud enough for Aziraphale to hear it but with the clear intent of making Aziraphale believe he wasn't meant to hear it.

Remember how the camera holds on Aziraphale's horrified reaction?

<<It does make sense that this is the real Metatron, because his backstory fits his actions here. His family are locked in a mountain being tortured for their sins, and they will only be released after judgement day, which is after the second coming.>>

There is no evidence that this is the story Good Omens is telling. It might well be but we've seen none of this so far. The Metatron has barely been in the show. I don't think we can rely upon Biblical stories verbatim in Good Omens. Imagine if you did that with Bildad the Shuite and Job... you'd get a very different story than the one Good Omens told in S2.

<<It's a threat, especially if he doesn't fall in line like Gabriel didn't, but it's not a certainty that this is what Metatron is going to do the second they get to heaven.>>

Why wouldn't The Metatron just put Michael in charge of Heaven? Michael will do whatever he tells them to do. Why would he waste time and risk ruining his Armageddon 2.0 by putting in charge *the one angel who ruined Round One*? It makes zero sense to think that Aziraphale would ever be considered a viable candidate to be the Supreme Archangel of Heaven. I'm so confused as to how everyone knows The Metatron is the bad guy and doesn't trust him and yet believes the bullshit he sold Aziraphale. Make it make sense? Please? I'm desperate here lol.

How did The Metatron try to strip Gabriel of his memories and take his job and make him a fallen angel on Monday for saying "nah" to Armageddon but then offer Aziraphale-- who actually stopped the last round-- Gabriel's job on Friday morning? When his end goal is still to have a Round Two of Armageddon? The Metatron is trying to end the world that Aziraphale did everything he could to save in S1. Aziraphale is the last being in Heaven who he'd put in charge of it if he wants to make sure that The Second Coming happens and we know that's his goal.

<<The "lift" parallel is that Az is offering Crowley "a lift" to heaven, which is death for him. Metatron is offering the same to Az, but that's not literal death, it's metaphorical, because to change your position is to change who you are, and leaving earth IS a change in who Az is, because he's no longer got a connection to Crowley. That's a metaphorical death of that relationship, for the time being.>>

Crowley offers Aziraphale lifts in the positive senses of the word. He drives him places in The Bentley, he boosts his spirits, he-- ah-- causes things to elevate lol... He helps lift Aziraphale as much as he can through Aziraphale's depression. The 1967 scene foreshadows that it's ultimately Crowley who will be the cause of Aziraphale going anywhere Aziraphale wants to go when The Devil comes for him. He can go with Crowley and reject him or he can get in the lift and go Up to finish falling Down. Obviously, Crowley doesn't see that foreshadowing in 1967 or know what's coming. I was more referring to the idea that we can, in retrospect, look at that scene as foreshadowing for the elevator in 2.06 because of the wordplay of using different definitions of "lift" in different contexts.

<<I think Michael didn't recognize Metatron because his motivations changed, and as we know, your thoughts are who you are.>>

Michael, Uriel, Muriel, and Aziraphale all failed to recognize The Metatron as The Metatron... but Saraqael eventually figured out what was happening. And what did they do when they did? They looked Up to God and started praying. They also don't say anything to anybody after they've figured it out.

<<>he can't take your soul unless it's actually your choice

This is not anywhere in the book or the show. This is common real world belief, but it's just as common that the devil can make you sin forcefully, that's literally what possession is and the claim "the devil made me do it" and all claims of rape excuses are>>

Whoa, whoa, whoa... hold up lol. First off, possession and falling are two very different things and I am not saying they're the same things here. The devil can force demons to do things-- he nearly forced Crowley to murder a guy in 1.01 while he was possessing him. He can control those who already are in Hell. Humans are making their own choices and that was my point. I'm referring to the choice to sell your soul to the devil. You can be influenced by demons-- like what Hastur and Ligur recounted doing in 1.01--as they are trying to collect souls for Satan but the choice to actually give that soul *to* Satan is an individual choice when he finally comes to you to claim it. That is what I feel like the show is suggesting part of falling is and I do think it's in the show because I think it's why The Devil could trick and push and emotionally manipulate Aziraphale but, at the end, he had to mention The Second Coming so that Aziraphale was aware of what was really going on and what it would really mean to get into the elevator because it has to be Aziraphale's choice to do so. I'm in no way saying Aziraphale is evil. I'm saying Aziraphale has fallen into despair, which is how The Devil gets good people and what I think S2 is ultimately about.

<<I've not seen any of the claims for this that actually make sense. If you have evidence I'd love to see, you've convinced me of plenty of other stuff I never saw.>>

And you, me! I'll admit that I've just been like "The Metatron in 2.06 is The Devil" for awhile without backing a lot of those thoughts up but I'll have something up soon.

Who do you think played "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" in the car at the end of S2: Crowley, Aziraphale, The Bentley?

Aziraphale. It's a reference to Crowley and the crows in the Job minisode, imo. Between them, I mean, not just a parallel scene (which it also is). It's a reply to "no nightingales." Shot in the same 'looking at each other across a space' way:

Probably should also throw in the fact that this is happening in the street in front of The Dirty Donkey with the elevator being just inside it and The Bentley involved so it also has ties to 1967 and that other time they had a conversation like this that we've seen... and the fact that Aziraphale gets into a literal elevator, which the British call...

...a lift. *dark laugh*

*breathes*

Let's all lean heavily on the word 'fabulous' in that sentence that makes this more S3 foreshadowing than anything else lol...

#good omens #metatron

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