#crowley the plant lady

[doomedlemur]

Does Crowley actually destroy the "bad" plants?

I think not!

Neil Gaiman notably suggested once that he makes the shredder noise to frighten the plants, then sneaks the plant with leaf spots out and gives it to the old lady downstairs.

However, this was just in response to a question asking what could be told to a child who was upset by the scene, and so could not be considered canon. It does seem in character, but trying to be mindful of not headcanonning Crowley into too much of a meow-meow, I was prepared to believe either possibility.

But then, I was reading the book. And though much of the scene in the show was taken line for line, in the book it doesn't say he shreds the plants, or that the sound of a shredder is heard, or anything like that. It says he leaves the flat with the offending plant, and returns an hour or so later with an empty pot.

About the right amount of time to pop downstairs, have a chat and a cup of tea, and re-pot a plant, wouldn't you say? Hmmmmmmm.

[beastsovrevelation]

It's not funny. NOT funny.

Ever since I wrote this rant, I've been growing more and more obsessed with the Fem!Crowley x Michael pairing. It went from I like the concept to the ship has consumed my very being.

Hell, the ideas I burn with. The headcanons. The smut... Oh, the smut.

This is probably such a random pairing in the Good Omens universe. I don't care, I'm obsessed. But, I guess that's why I feel the need to actually portray their relationship developing in some way, before I do anything else (procastrinate by writing random oneshots).

The issue? I have one story, yes. But, instead of working on the plot leading to it, I crave the scenes of them already on fire for each other.

Especially the scene where Crowley's anxious she'll get killed, and Michael sternly (while lovingly clasping her hands) assures her no one's killing her.

Ladies...

What are you doing to me, huh?

(Don't mind me with the faceclaim from Constantine again, it's just the closest thing to my vision of fem!Crowley... What I'm doing with Michael first in my head is fixing the fashion. I'm putting her in a General-appropriate outfit, and hairstyle. Think Roman armour. Or, something white with golden epaulettes. Seriously, what have they done to you, o Most Glorious Prince.)

[harunayuuka2060]

Crowley: What a magnificent garden you have!

F!MC: *chuckles* Thank you.

Crowley: You must be so inspired! I can tell you've poured all your love into planting these flowers!

F!MC: You're making me blush with your compliment, Headmage.

Leona: ...

Vil: The lady of your dorm was just featured in a magazine for her gardening and home decor skills.

Leona: Yeah, I saw it.

Vil: She must be inspired.

Leona: Yeah, she was still upset about the ending of the drama she watched.

Vil: Drama?

Leona: Yes. It's a story about a married couple where the husband cheated. Despite all the trouble he caused her, the wife still accepted him.

Vil: ...

Leona: You should've seen her stabbing the soil.

Vil: ...

[elenthyaolyenths]

[ChillOmenstober] Day 10: "Yellow"

↓Companion text (410 words under the cut!)↓

They have met, a long time ago. But fate doomed them.

In a world where a demon can remember and see his other half.

In a world where his other half would never see nor recognise the demon.

.

.

.

“Great warrior, I know you didn’t want anything more than the price we had previously discussed for your protection. But my family and I are now back home, safe and sound, and for that I will feel indebted to you forever. Please, accept this small gift.”

Aziraphale was about to object, but when he saw the item his now former client was presenting to him, his words failed him. The old woman had a soft chuckle. Then she took his large, powerful hand in her thin and fragile ones, and put the gift in his wide palm.

“Please. Take it. I specially asked my nephew to craft it while we were traveling. He barely rested at night just to be sure you could have it before your departure.”

Aziraphale looked at the golden chain and its two red and vermeil flowers, a species he couldn’t recall the name. Delicate, marvellous. Obviously expensive. When he accepted a month ago to escort this family of craftsmen and jewellers, he wouldn’t have expected to earn such a chef-d’oeuvre.

“I-I can’t. I have to refuse.”

Yet, he couldn’t keep his mesmerised eyes off it. And the woman seemed not even surprised, wearing a broad and proud smile. 

“You are a trustworthy protector, Sir Aziraphale. During our travel, your focus never broke. Except this time at the Siwa market, when you met that little one who was selling flowers. I saw you buy their entire stock, then giving it all them back and keeping only one flower for yourself. I would bet my best camel that this plant is now dried and well-stored in your package.”

Once again, he found himself unable to speak – the old lady was definitely too much perceptive for her own good. Or maybe it was his entire fault, being too oblivious. Maybe both.

“Please excuse a old hag’s curiousness, but why these flowers?”

He stilled, flabbergasted – he didn't even know why. He stared back at the jewels, made of vermeil and a curious sort of reddish gold, mimicking almost flawlessly the flowers he saw the other day.

“Why these ones? Well, I'm afraid I don’t know.”

Fiery colours – a touch of red, and a wonderful yellow.

“…They’re pretty.”

. .

Codename: L.T.G Project - with @captainblou

Linktree - Tumblr Masterpost

♥ Tag-List below (tell me if you want to be in or out)♥

@goodomensafterdark ;

@floscrap-blog ; @demonsandpieohmy ; @amagnificentobsession ; @captainblou

@ineffable-hyperfixation ; @itsscottiesstark ; @moralsofanalleycatsposts

@fearandhatred ; @eybefioro ; @crowleys-bentley-and-plants ; @ashfae ; @crowleys-hips;

@paperclipninja ; @silverdphantom ; @neverlet ; @naturallyteal

@mad-aims ; @daisydimple20092 ; @seraphhiim ; @rebeccakatmauri

[aziraphales-library]

Hii im looking for fic that looks at Crowley/aziraphale from an outside perspective for example the other whickber street traders being confused about where Aziraphale has gone and asking Crowley or other civilians noticing aziraphale and Crowley in general. Not looking for a particular fanfiction.

I do love a good #outsider POV fic...

Eavesdropping by IneffableDoll (G)

A patron of the pub overhears a bewildering conversation between a grey suit (Gabriel) and a beige suit (Aziraphale) in which their adoring descriptions of their respective goth partners are extremely…concerning.

The Mystery of the Missing Mr. Fell by treatsnsweets (G)

"Aren't you investigating? Keep the rant about the confusing relationship with Sunglasses in a separate thing." Phyllis spoke out loud, reading the notebook. "Hey! I'm not done with that yet. It's still my first draft and I needed more evidence." Trixie huffed as they grabbed her notebook back. Or Two teens decided to investigate why "Mr. Fell" has disappeared after the events of season 2.

Sanctuary by Scheissemann (M)

Days were hard for the shopkeepers on Whickber Street, Crowley was drinking, and Mrs. Sandwich just wanted to have a cigarette undisturbed.

What You've Lost But Never Had by BlackUnicorn (NR)

Mr. Fell, for that was all everyone knew to call him, was a peculiar man. He owned the bookshop next to Frank's record shop – A. Z. Fell & Co. it was called – and it had been there for as long as anyone could remember. Why, if Frank's mother, may she rest in peace, was to be believed, the Mr. Fell who had been around when she'd opened her own establishment was the very same that was still around now, over 70 years ago. That couldn't possibly be true, of course, and yet sometimes Frank wondered. He remembered Mr. Fell, of course, from his own childhood, his own youth, the kind man living next door, a little reclusive, perhaps, but always willing to offer a cup of tea and some nice biscuits to anyone in need of a cheer-up. 

A Table For One by WaitingToBeBroken (T)

There is a couple that has been coming to Justine's restaurant every third Wednesday of the month for more than a decade. Now, they are suddenly gone. Justine decides to ask around the neighbourhood about them. Everyone has a different theory.

amaranthus cruentus by jilliancares (G)

“It’s not my plant.” “Okay,” says Nina. “I mean, it wasn’t my plant. It was given to me. I didn’t pick it out.” “Right.” “I don’t even like flowers,” Crowley continues. “I like leafy plants. Leafy plants make sense.”

Or: Crowley and Aziraphale navigating their break-up, through the eyes of everyone else. Or: 5 times Crowley and Aziraphale deal with their heartbreak, plus 1 time they actually do something about it.

All of This is Completely Normal Here by TogetherAgain (G)

The events of an entirely ordinary day for one particular police station in London towards the beginning of summer in 2019. ~ ~ ~ Lonnie Clarke was talking to a lunatic. To be fair, that wasn’t really unusual. It was a standard part of police work. This particular lunatic was a special sort of insane, though. Crazy like a fox, this Mr. Fell. Or, just absurdly lucky. Clarke was just finishing up with him — confirming his contact information, thanking him for his time, and so on — when an entirely different and more familiar lunatic came swaggering in with their hands cuffed in front of them. “OI! Who sent a rookie to pick me up all by herself? That’s hazing, ‘s what that is. Thought you lot were above all that.” Ladies and gentlemen, A.J. Crowley was in the building.

the best of the world in the palm of our hands by middyblue (T)

Crowley seems to be going through a bad breakup and Maggie just wants to help. Apparently, the world is also ending.

- Mod D

[breannasfluff]

Somewhere, there is a place where the Metatron asks Aziraphale to become the head archangel. Too late, Crowley kisses his angel. Aziraphale leaves anyway, clinging to the hope that he can change the future. 

But that is not where we begin. In our story, the demons attack and are repelled. Gabriel and Beelzebub leave. This time, there is no Metatron. No kiss. No head position offer. 

Instead, Muriel is called back to report to Heaven. The other archangels dither amongst themselves over who will lead. 

For Crowley and Aziraphale, things go back to much the way they were. The days settle into an easy rhythm, buoyed by a new closeness and a side helping of continued romantic confusion. 

Yet in this world, one small detail changes. 

Some might blame Adam, or even the Them, who are generally only a step behind suspicion. Being the former Antichrist certainly must hold some sway. 

Others might point to God and how this is a joke only She gets. She's certainly laughing, if you listen closely.

Aziraphale would say it’s ineffable. 

But whoever the culprit, the outcome remains the same. The Bentley is no longer just a car. 

She’s human. 

And she’s got a lot to say to one Anthony J. Crowley. 

~ This idea popped into my head late last night and I couldn't let it go. I think she's an incredibly sassy lady who tests even Crowley's patience. She totally plays favorite for Aziraphale, changing her dress color. Bentley might even yell at Crowley's plants, because he rubbed off on her when he was staying in the car.

I'm imagining little drabbles of Bentley interacting with the two, possibly to disastrous effect. Because, really, who else is going to get those two idiots to kiss?

[katiefrog217]

Good Omens Fic + Poetry | Personal Recommendation Masterlist

I said I'd do it, so I'm doing it. For both myself, and so others can enjoy! I'll try to tag the original authors and link any secondaries/people who recommended me the stories!

If you feel so inclined, you may read my own (very long, very angsty) fic or it's companion piece:

Dubious Excerpts from the Chonicles of a Demon (Retired) | Post-Season 2 / Crowley comes back to the bookshop / Seriously, its a lot of angst/ Self-Contained Meta

From the Confidential Journals of A.Z Fell | Crowley found Azi's journals woops / Mostly Fluff / Ties in to previous Fic / Can be read Standalone

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To clarify: this list is going to be a collection of stuff I've personally read/been recommended. I'll try to make sure to tag everyone who owns the fics (if they have a Tumblr) and the people who recommended them to me (if at all). I'll update this list as I go, and might start sorting things into their own posts if it starts to get too long. I'm not going to be able to tag all warnings, so PLEASE HEED the A03 tags!

This list is not meant to play favorites! If I read it and enjoyed it, it will be going on this list. That means the quality may vary, but I think everyone should have a chance to have their work seen! Inevitably though, I will have my favorites, and if I ABSOLUTELY think you should read one, I'll mark in in Green. Everything else will be in Orange for visibility. Anything with NSFW Content will be marked with a (!!!).

If you would like to recommend me a fic (self-promotes welcome and encouraged!), feel free to drop a recommendation here, DM me, or send me an ask if you want to remain anonymous! If you don't see your's here, I haven't gotten to it yet!

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Poetry

@lickthecowhappy does a LOT of poetry for GO, and they have a masterlist on their own blog for their stuff, but my personal favorite is Pour Hot Water Into A Pot With Leaves

This Black Out Poem | Written by @crowleys-bentley-and-plants

Questions (Sonnet No. 2) | Written by @aziraphalesdiaries

This Two Part Poem | Written by @knifeforkspooncup

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Short n' Sweet

Literally anything written by the account @meanwhile-at-the-cottage (Seriously follow them they make my day)

Nada | Written and Recommended by @gabapunk (Pining/Season 3 where you at??)

This One-shot | Written by @bloodashre (Post season 2/ The world is ending but their love is not).

Hazel Storms and Gentle Ormes | Written by @ardentlake and beta read by thatskindarough (Short chapters but cute, Crown Prince Crowley)

His World In Her Hands | Written by @nik-knight to an art post by Camilleflyingrotten (I was genuinely unwell after this one| Azi got hurt and Crowley begs)

Rain In Avalon | Written by SnowFilly1 and recommended by GoodOmensDuh (Long One-shot, Arthurian Times, Intimacy eluded to but nothing explicit)

Cozy Preening | Written by @canadiankazz and recommended by GoodOmensDuh (Not much plot BUT OMG SO CUTE/ Wing preening fluff)

Lord Knows it Would be the First Time | Written and recommended by @knifeforkspooncup (Angst/ But also Fluff / I want these idiots to be ok)

This Silly Story about Unicorns | Written by @brightwanderer (seriously just read it/I cackled really hard/ Crowley can be a dummy and I love that about him)

Starmaker and Starlight | Written by NohaIjiachi and recommended by thatskindarough (Super cute/ pre-fall Aziracrow / You already know exactly how it ends / but read it anyway/ this lives rent free in my head now)

Divine Interventions (!!!) | Written by @ineffable-roh (AKA Rohese_Purrs) and recommended by Knifeforkspooncup (Norse Deities do a little matchmaking / Fluffy NSFW / Male Crowley with lady bits)

Time Folding in On Itself | Written by Chernozemm (AKA black_earth) (Post season 2 / Aziracrow get to the point/ these two really need to talk)

Impromptu Collab (!!!) | Written by MrGhostRat (Human Streamer AU / Indulgent NSFW / Plot what Plot / Please Mind the Tags)

Free | Written by @eviebane for Flawless (Small, cute, please read Flawless first for context)

A More Gentle Touch | Written by Nik-Knight for ME?? (I'm 100% Biased here / Creature Omens AU / IDC if you don't give a fuck about my au, this is cute AF please read it / Pure FLUFF / Dove Aziraphale and Snake Crowley my beloveds)

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Long Fics

This Is Who You Are | Written and Recommended by @azeutreciathewicked (Medium Length / Post Season 2 / RAPHAEL AGAIN HELLO / If you really love creative explainations for Heaven you'll LOVE this / A seriously interesting concept behind Azi and Crowley's relationship/ Snake Crowley and Bird Aziraphale my beloveds)

Instructions Not Included | Written by @brightwanderer (AKA Atalan) and recommended by DoomedLemur (Post Season 1 / Aziracrow run a detective agency for the supernatural / Hello Raphael (this time a different person) / Heavenly lore / There is some weird shit going on / WINGS)

And They Were Streamers | Written by @mrghostrat and recommended by HaeMey (Ongoing /Streamer Au / Its got art / KICKING MY FEET I LOVE THEM)

If We've Got Nothing (We've Got Us) | Written by @kedreeva, recommended by someone on Patreon (God POV / Grey Feathers / Medium Length / Old but Good)

Big Name Feelings (!!!) | Written by mrghostrat (Completed / Au/ Skippable NSFW/ Ace Crowley / I've never felt more seen and called out wtf/ I stayed up until 4 am reading it)

The Many Venomed Earth + sequel Such Rebel Blood | Written by @fremulon (AKA Curtaincall) and recommended by HaeMey (Human Au / Murder Mysteries / Crowley gets framed for a murder in the first one oh no / DETECTIVE (not really) AZI ON THE CASE / mutual pining / eventual payoff)

Mon Horrible Chéri (!!!) | Written by MrGhostRat and recommended by TheCommonMold (Completed/ Human Teachers AU / literal enemies to lovers / ONLY ONE ROOM OH NO--)

Flawless (!!!) | Written by MrGhostRat and @chernozemm (AKA black_earth) (Huamn AU /Cheating Azi / very painful / seriously there is some angst here / happy ending tho TRUST)

Not Light, No Light | Written and recommended by PolarisVega (Their first fic / Season 3 headcanons / Fun Crowley Headcanons)

Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach | Written by mouseonamoose (aka Nnm) and recommended by lickthecowhappy and GoodOmensDuh (Crowley Goes to Therapy / Old but still REALLY good / Pre-season 2 / Super long chapters but very worth)

Angel-Centered Therapy Through A Multicultural Lens: An Integrative Approach | Written by @mouseonamoose (Same as the previous, but Azi this time / Unfinished by nearly done / my poor baby Azi)

Factory Settings | Written by Anonymous (I don't remember how I found this one/ swear I must have seen it on Tumblr/ 60 chapters!! / Read carefully it can get a little confusing / Timey Whimey BS / RAPHAEL??/ Post Season 2 shenanigans with a good ending)

Telling Tall Tales (!!!) | Written by @siobhans-world (Human Aziracrow/ Azi is gay AF but lonely / Pretends to be Maggie's Bf (accidentally) / oh no hot cousin alert/ Not done but almost/ mutual pining)

Time Marches Forward | Written and Recommended by @bellisima-writes (Post Season 2 / Starts a little rocky BUT OMG? / FIRST FIC? / I dedicated my entire day to it / Adam is such a good character holy shit / I think about this fic all the time / wish a few more things were flushed out bUT THATS OK/ lots of angst/ someone save my boy Azi)

How Do We Turn on the Light? (!!!) | Written by @moonyinpisces (Post Season 2/I had insomnia and this was my companion / read all the chapters in a few hours and I'm FROTHING AT THE MOUTH / I swear to anybody I'm hanging off their every word / Still Updating / Super Long, Super good / full of angst and love and AAA/ light NSFW content/ they keep getting cockblocked)

[jotun-philosopher]

A narrative clothesline

The following ramble isn't what I think is *likely* to happen in S3; it's more of a narrative clothesline that my brain has constructed almost completely independently of any conscious effort on my part, influenced by various metas and my own and others' speculation, and it serves as a thing onto which I can peg images and vignettes and headcanons that I really like. (My brain is a very interesting place and tends to make stuff up without me noticing...) This gets VERY LONG, so have a bookmark handy!

Wackiness under the cut! Also torture, psychological abuse, violence, PTSD -- tread carefully.

Now, on with the motley!

***

Long, long before any sort of beginning, eons (if such temporal vocabulary makes sense here, given that time hasn't been invented yet) before a certain flame-haired starmaker realised he needed a hand with his blueprints, the Archangels Raphael and Azrael become suspicious of the Metatron and his interpretation of the Great Plan, becoming the first two angels *ever* to question when they start probing his motives. The Metatron takes great exception to this, and by the time he's finished with them, there isn't enough left to make two whole angels. Scenting a possibility for experimentation, he stitches these remnants together into a single new angel of lesser rank, who he hopes will be more compliant and biddable.

...Okay, you can stop laughing now.

[Main Titles]

See, in modern times (a couple of months or so after Gabriel's shock resignation), the Supreme Archangel "Raphael" -- resplendent in elaborately draped robes of Heavenly white (difficult to run or defend oneself in) with wide bands of elaborate gold decoration at the wrists and high collar (which, looked at another way, resemble symbolic chains) over bare feet (terribly angelic, but a classic way to humiliate captives while making it harder for them to flee). The overall effect is of regal, ethereal magnificence and dignity -- unless you know the full context, in which case the clearest impression is one of mockery, contempt and "We own you -- mind, body and soul -- and can do what we like to you with absolute impunity. Think about that before you consider rebelling."

The facial features and shock of fluffy white hair are heartbreakingly familiar, the utterly blank facial expression and stiff, upright demeanour less so. His voice, when he speaks, is many octaves below the 'soft bookseller' tones one might expect. Also unusual is "Raphael"'s tendency, when unobserved, to stare into space while touching his mouth or fiddling with a mysterious silvery trinket; otherwise, he goes about his duties in the manner expected of an Archangel, knowing only what he needs to know to prepare for the Second Coming. Which means that when his predecessor in post and a former Duke of Hell sneak in via an unregarded rear entrance to plant bugs, "Raphael" doesn't notice or react to them at all!

Cut to Crowley sprawling on a bench in some rural area, brooding deeply and looking portentously undisturbable (his native optimism is taking a while to rev up after the recent emotional whammies). When someone unexpectedly stands between him and the sun, he starts to snarl at them, only to be interrupted by a cheery, "Party name of Crowley?" Crowley leaps up, startled, accusatory and hostile, but the International Express delivery guy hastily clarifies, "It's ok, sir, just a mundane delivery -- but the lady was very specific about where to find you." Crowley (recognising the style) simmers down enough to take the letter with some grumbled thanks, opens it and is stopped in his grouchy tracks by a reference to the body swap that could *only* come from someone deeply familiar with the Nice & Accurate Prophecies.

Attention thoroughly caught, he scans the rest of the letter, swears in ancient Sumerian and bolts for the Bentley, nearly colliding with four startled, nervous-looking angels in militaristic garb. Crowley reaches for his crank handle, but then notices odd details -- the large wooden box one of them is holding, the dishevelled state of the uniforms, the insignia, all four of the angels bowing to him with deep and genuine respect... "Hang on, you lot are from Aziraphale's old platoon, aren't you? What the blazes are you doing here?"

The angel holding the box stutters in fright for a few seconds, but manages to get out, "Th-The L-T... He's...not exactly dead, but we're not sure what the Metatron did to him. W-whatever it was, it was bad, so we, that is the platoon, got together and drew lots and we gathered all the L-T's personal effects we could find and deserted..." The angel proffers the box to Crowley, while one of the less-intimidated angels explains, "You're effectively the L-T's next of kin, the whole platoon saw him desert in favour of you during the last go at Armageddon, and we've decided we respect him and you more than we fear the Metatron."

Crowley is very impressed, and says so. "But what about the rest of you?"

"They're back Upstairs, keeping watch over the L-T in case of untoward developments."

"Rrrrright... Oooooookayyy... I take it, then, that you're willing to take orders from me until the Second Coming is foiled?" The deserters nod. "Right, in that case -- you know where the Bookshop is? Meet me there, but don't teleport directly; it's too easily traced." The deserters salute crisply and set off flying, while Crowley climbs into the Bentley and takes a moment to investigate the box. It does indeed contain Aziraphale's clothes and personal effects, and he spends a couple of minutes just holding the familiar old waistcoat against his cheek and inhaling its scent, before starting the engine and veering off at speed. He's so awash with emotion that the one item missing from the box doesn't immediately register...

Back in Soho, things are fairly slow in Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death, so Nina's got time to chat with the customers. They're interrupted by the sound of a recklessly driven 1933 Bentley blaring Velvet Underground dopplering up the street in their direction. The Bentley turns within its own length and slips neatly into position outside the Bookshop, before disgorging a goth-punk redhead and a snatch of vocals -- "RUN RUN RUN RUN RUUUUN". The redhead slams the door, hefts a large box under his arm, yells, "FUCK THA SECOND COMING!!!!! HAHAHA!!" skyward (with accompanying hand gestures) and swaggers into the Bookshop as if he owns the place. Following a stunned silence, the customers ask, "Who...was that?" Nina replies, "Oh, that's Mr Crowley. He's one of our local, uh, characters. Basically co-owns that bookshop with his husband."

Inside the Bookshop, Crowley calls, "Oi, Muriel! You there?" and is answered by a nervous squeak from a pile of books on the mezzanine. He leaves the box by the till, bounces up there and glances from the haphazardly stacked volumes to the extremely worried scrivener hiding behind them. Plopping comfortably on the floor, he asks, "Lord of the Rings, eh? [waves the book in question] How're you getting on with Tolkien?"

Caught a little off-guard by Crowley's sudden appearance and friendly demeanour, Muriel replies, "Um.. I-I-I... It's good, but I found it a bit overwhelming. I-I liked the bit about the elves only guarding their forest, not ruling or owning it, though."

"Yeaaah, Tolkien's style can be a bit much if you're not used to it. He was a pretty interesting guy, though, great linguist. You'd've liked him. Anything else grab your interest?"

Muriel brightens up a little. "Yeah! The Discworld stuff is great! There's so much there to think about that I hadn't even considered before! There was this bit in one of the later ones, about sin being treating people as things, and um, I..." Crowley gestures for them to continue. "Well, it got me thinking about how the Metatron was before, with the stuff in the trial we saw, and just telling Mr Fell that I was going to be in charge here without giving him a say, which is a big overreach and a kind of theft, and I think the wards are damaged but I can't fix them myself because that would really be theft, and I think the building's a bit sapient and resents my presence, and I haven't opened or anything because I don't know how bookshops work and don't have Mr Fell's permission to sell things, and I... I don't want the Second Coming to happen because there are so many books I haven't read yet!!!"

Crowley makes a 'simmer down' gesture. "Okay. Taking it from the top: Thinking is always good, never stop doing it. You're absolutely right about Heaven and the Metatron sinning by treating people as things. We will need Aziraphale here to reset the wards, but there're ways to shore them up without committing metaphysical theft. This building may well be a bit sapient, like my car, because Aziraphale's put so much time and love into it. If you're truly against the Second Coming, then you have my permission to be here. Aziraphale actively tries to avoid opening or making sales anyway, so you're doing fine on that front. Okay?"

He's about to say more, but is interrupted by a sound from outside that could be described as "a six-foot-tall cat played by John Hamm negotiating the expulsion of a particularly obstinate hairball while in extreme emotional distress".

Of course, what is actually is, is a certain renegade Supreme Archangel who's seen something that's upset him to the point of dry heaving and loud emotional meltdown: "THEY KILLED HIM!!! THEY WIPED HIM LIKE THEY WERE GOING TO DO TO ME AND THEY PUT HIM IN MY OLD JOB AND THAT SOMEHOW MAKES IT WORSE!!!" Beelzebub tries to calm him down, and they eventually succeed in directing Gabriel's attention to the Bentley, the Bookshop and the startled redhead leaning out of the doors.

It's a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Crowley lets them into the Bookshop without a word of snark. He directs them to the sofa, pours himself into the chair opposite and stares at them with a quizzically raised eyebrow. "Why'd you come back?"

Gabriel is still gathering himself, so Beez answers, "We got talking... We both have a lot to atone for, and Gabriel wanted to repay you and Aziraphale for your kindness better than he could have done when everything blew up before [Gabriel nods emphatically]. Then we reasoned that the destruction of everything in Armageddon round two would catch us wherever we were, and we'd be just as dead as if we'd been executed for returning..."

"...so we figured, what the heck, let's make it worthwhile!" Gabriel takes a slightly shaky breath. "So we came back to help you and Aziraphale mess up this Apocalypse, and we snuck into Heaven to plant spy flys [Beez smirks while Crowley does an impressed double-take], but then we saw..."

"Yeah, I heard you." Crowley pulls out the letter from earlier and hands it over. "Aziraphale's not dead, he's way too stubborn for that. We have more allies than you think, but we've got to plan carefully or we're stuffed. Speaking of allies..." He launches himself upright and swaggers to the door, where the deserters he met earlier have just landed. In something of a Regimental-Sergeant-Major mode, he says, "Right, you lot, this Bookshop is pretty much HQ for now, but the wards are damaged and we can't properly repair them without Aziraphale. Set up a guard duty rota covering all possible entrances and exits, at the double, but keep it discreet. Got that?" That done, he gently dragoons Muriel into helping him get his plants out of the Bentley and into his and Aziraphale's bedroom. When he's alone once more, he spends a few moments puttering around, sorting out his angel's clothes from the box (noting the missing bow tie with a twinge of sadness) and lining up the plants on the windowsill and anywhere else they'll fit. That done, he sternly tells them, "Right, you lot, listen up! You live here now, got it? So you'd better look nice for when Aziraphale gets back or else!" The plants visibly stand to attention as Crowley wields his plant mister threateningly, before gently spritzing their leaves.

Up in Heaven, "Raphael" has by chance managed to scrape up enough independent thought to wonder about the strange silvery trinket he's been holding on to without properly noticing its existence. Once the idea enters his consciousness, it won't leave, and he suddenly can't focus on anything else [the vibe and camera angels I have in mind are very 'Professor Yana properly noticing his pocket watch', but less evil]. He happens to still be holding it when he starts absently touching his mouth again, he accidentally swallows it...And there's a burst of mental white light, a garbled flood of memories -- Aziraphale is restored! He takes a couple of seconds to reorient himself, stretches his neck from side to side, wiggles his shoulders and generally limbers up to be a Chaotic Murder Hornet... Then Saraquel forcibly re-imposes the "Raphael" persona, but squashing Aziraphale inside his own mind rather than erasing him outright; she has her own plans regarding the Metatron, and can't afford to let Azzy be too chaotic too early.

Aziraphale is understandably furious and immediately starts testing the bounds of this latest development with subversive intent. (Beware the fury of a patient angel!)

Back in Soho, a day or two later, Nina's becoming increasingly worried about Heavenly and Hellish matters that she's witnessed or inferred; she's feeling a little awkward about contacting Crowley, but sends a message across to the Bookshop anyway. Crowley swaggers across the road in reply at about closing time (after a long shift monitoring the spy-flys), helps Nina carry some stuff inside, then sprawls in a chair with a raised-eyebrow Look. "Got your message."

Under the pressure of the sunglasses and the eyebrow, Nina quails a little, but says, "I... I owe you an apology." Crowley's other eyebrow goes up. "For raving hypocrisy. I shouldn't have tried to lecture you on how to run your relationship right after telling you off for doing the same thing. I'm sorry."

"We're even, then." Crowley sits up and leans forward. "There's something else, though. You're scared, about something you can't ask anyone else about. What is it?"

Nina hesitates, worried about sounding odd, then says, "You know Wintersmith?" Crowley nods emphatically. "I was reading it last night, and the part where Tiffany's critiquing a romance novel's depiction of a sheep farm made me think about coffee shop AU fanfiction and the stuff they get wrong -- like the characters running off in the middle of the morning rush to interfere in their neighbours' love lives -- and then I realised there're a few things about Maggie that don't add up, and there're angels and demons all over the place and WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON???"

Crowley is more or less unruffled. Gently, he tells Nina, "I'm the last person to discourage asking questions, and I understand why you have them, but this is one of those situations where getting answers is a risk; you can't un-eat an apple and expect to get the same apple back afterward, and the truth you're asking about would probably look like cosmic horror from a human perspective. If you and any of the other Whickber Sstreet Traderss really want answerss, I'm prepared to give them -- say, tomorrow evening at the Bookssshop? -- but be very ssure you truly want to know. Ok?" Upon her confirmation, he takes his leave, sashaying back to the Bookshop as Nina starts to work out why he used an apple metaphor in particular...

The next evening, the Bookshop is more full of people than it has been for quite some time; the Whickber Street Traders & Shopkeepers have (as Crowley suspected) been wanting answers about what's going on since the Meeting Ball. He's trying to call the meeting to some kind of order when there's another knock at the door. Suspicious (everyone he was expecting is already present), Crowley approaches the doors just as two file cards are pushed through the letterbox, showing Prophecies 3008 and 5004. Once he's recovered from the surprise, Crowley tears open the door to reveal Anathema Device and Newt Pulsifer and invites them in without further ado. Introductions are swiftly made, and Anathema explains that she knew she'd be needed tonight to explain about Agnes, and wanted to take the opportunity to pass on the Nice & Accurate Prophecies card index to someone who'd truly appreciate it for what it is. She then has to shake Newt a bit, because he's been rooted to the spot, staring in awe around the Bookshop. "This place is brilliant! It's kind of the Platonic ideal of old bookshops! I... [excited squeak, gesturing]"

Flattered on Aziraphale's behalf, Crowley smirks, notes that it's kind of Newt to say so, then saunters over to the till and rings the handbell for silence. "I hereby call to order this Truly Extraordinary Meeting of the Whickber Street Traders & Shopkeepers Association. I know you all want answers about what's been going on, and you definitely deserve them. Where would you like to start?"

Nina raises a hand and asks, "That metaphor you used yesterday, about eating apples -- there was a reason you used that, wasn't there?"

"Ah, yessssssssss!" Crowley grins hugely. "An excellent choice! Imagine, if you will a desert, and within that desert, a huge walled garden with a certain tree in the centre. A certain demon has been told to 'get up there and make some trouble', but he isn't really used to being a demon yet and has doubts about this whole 'evil for evil's sake' business, so he does the least troublesome thing he can think of that fits the brief, finds the official response a tad excessive, recognises the cute Principality on duty at the Eastern Gate, slithers over for a chat, the angel admits to giving away his flaming sword out of compassionate concern, and, well..."

"Vavoom?" Gabriel seems to be trying hard not to squee too obviously.

"Vavoom!" agrees Crowley, not buying the act for a second. He proceeds to recount (in as concise a manner as he can) the 6000-odd years of his and Aziraphale's joint history, not going into too much detail on specific incidents, apart from the Job business (at the request of Gabriel and some of the shopkeepers who'd never liked the 'official' version -- Gabe's pretty good-humoured about how daft the whole affair makes him look) and somewhat on the Bullet Catch (to impressed noises from Mutt and his spouse). It's all surprisingly lighthearted until the account gets to the arrival of the Antichrist and the first Armageddon, at which point Crowley becomes focused and deadly serious, calling in frequent contributions from Gabe, Beez, Newt and Anathema (the story of the body-swap dodge gets a rousing cheer, though!) and emphasising that what ultimately resolved the crisis was humans being magnificently human. Things get even more serious when the explanations reach Gabriel's casting-out and the impending Second Coming/Armageddon v2, and once the story's finished, the Whickber Street Traders have a moment of overwhelmed silence.

Nina breaks the silence by rather numbly commenting that Crowley really wasn't kidding about the cosmic horror thing. Other traders join in, contemplatively noting that the Ineffable Husbands are humanity's unofficial godparents and the ultimate queer elders, and Mr Brown (who's old enough to remember both) remarks on the parallels with both the Cold War and the dark times when homosexuality was illegal.

The atmosphere is rudely broken by an indication that someone Upstairs wishes to speak to Muriel immediately. Beez, the shopkeepers and guests immediately dive for cover behind every available bookshelf, while Crowley and Gabriel throw Muriel candles for the summoning circle and take cover themselves.

Muriel greets the activated circle with a cheery, polite, "Hello, this is the Angelic Embassy in London, Muriel speaking, how can I help?" A familiar (?) silhouette forms in the light within the circle; the Archangel "Raphael" is checking in to make sure that nebulously defined preparations on Earth are going well, and he is in addition curious as to why there were so many humans in the Bookshop earlier. Muriel explains that they were hosting a shopkeepers' association meeting, adding on the spur of the moment that it's part of their Earthly cover. As soon as they mention that, "Raphael"'s expression visibly twitches and glitches, as if there's some fierce internal struggle going on, he hunches over, looks up -- and it's Aziraphale in control once more, forcing himself out from under the imposed persona and visibly terrified.

Gabbling with nerves and fidgeting agitatedly with his hands, Aziraphale delivers a frantic apology for messing with everyone's heads at the Meeting Ball and begs Muriel to pass the message on if they can, because he's not sure he'll live to deliver it in person or be able to make practical amends. While Muriel is promising to pass the message on, Mutt notices something about Aziraphale's hand movements -- subtle pulling and folding among the agitated flailing -- and laser-focuses on that through a gap in the bookshelves. Cautiously, Muriel starts to ask whether there're any messages for Crowley, but Aziraphale notices there's someone listening in on his end and frantically gestures for Muriel to stop talking (in the process concealing a subtle wrist-flick throwing motion). He has a split-second to make eye contact with Crowley and attempt to convey "I love you more than anything" via eyebrow movements, and to receive a raised-eyebrow nod that conveys "I love you too, I'm working on things down here, I know what I'm holding without looking, and the answer to the associated question is yes," in return, before the "Raphael" persona is forcibly reimposed.

It's unsettling to watch -- his body is yanked mechanically, involuntarily upright like a puppet having its strings pulled, and he settles too smoothly back into the formal posture from the start of the call as his face becomes utterly blank once more. The call ends in a thoroughly conventional fashion, leaving the meeting attendees creeping out from their hiding places looking extremely shaken.

One or two people, once they've found their voices again, start to wonder aloud whether Aziraphale's apology was remotely sincere. Crowley confirms that it was, in a tone that suggests he's perplexed and a bit offended that anyone could think otherwise. Mutt backs him up. "He was in fear for his life! Who'd waste time lying in that kind of situation?!" He takes a couple of calming breaths, "So, yes, completely sincere, but I got the sense that it was at the same time a sort of misdirecting patter. Did anyone else see what he was doing with his hands? Looked like pulling something out of his sleeves and throwing it out of the circle right before he..."

"You're absolutely right." Crowley holds out his right hand and opens it to reveal a small, roundish tartan lump. As he unwraps Aziraphale's bow tie from around the package, he continues, "The thing about conducting a millennia-long clandestine relationship with painful annihilation as the price of discovery is that you have to be, or get, very good at communicating in ways that won't be understood or noticed by anyone who doesn't know the full context [quick sideways glance at Maggie and Nina]. For example, this..." He finishes unwrapping the bow tie to reveal Aziraphale's signet ring. "...means, among other things, 'I trust you with everything that I am.'" No-one dares say a word as Crowley slips the ring onto the ring finger of his left hand and secures the bow tie around his watch strap. He then wearily dismisses the meeting, responding to queries from the Whickber Street Traders about how they can help by saying, "Just... Keep being human, as hard as you can. That's what did for Armageddon last time..."

Up in Heaven, Saraquel is worried and speculative as she watches "Raphael" depart to resume his duties elsewhere, looking unusually shaky. She consults the memory-mangling app on her angelphone and realises that repeatedly imposing the "Raphael" persona without first erasing Aziraphale has rendered that persona increasingly fragile and liable to be thrown off permanently at any time.

Aziraphale does just that as soon as he's sure he's unobserved, but (warned by his previous experiences) acts as if he hasn't, all while weaving a small illusion miracle to bolster the pretence until he's ready to cast it off.

A couple of days later, Crowley is sitting in Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death, brooding deeply and knocking back inordinate quantities of Nina's strongest espresso after a night watching the spy-flys. He's jolted out of his reverie by the arrival of the International Express delivery guy, cheery and businesslike as ever, bringing a letter from Anathema and a large parcel she's passing on for someone else. Crowley opens the letter first, reads it in mounting agitation, quaffs the last of his latest coffee and races back to the Bookshop. While Muriel's examining the letter, Crowley opens the parcel to find a number of things from Aziraphale -- Gabriel's scarf and tailored overcoat (along with an apologetic note about not being able to find more of his clothes), all records of his attempted execution and Gabriel's kangaroo court, information on the murders of Azrael and Raphael, a complete list of angels who've been memory-wiped without Falling (Muriel is perturbed to find their own name on the list), change logs for the Book of Life, details of other things the Metatron has been doing in an attempt to impede the Ineffable Husbands' ability to muck up Armageddon round 2; all in all, a very helpful mound of evidence for anyone intending to take down the system. In mounting fear for Aziraphale's safety and warned by part of Anathema's letter, Crowley leaves the Bookshop, the parcel and its contents under the temporary care of Gabriel, Beelzebub and Muriel and goes tearing off in the Bentley, Best of Queen blaring from the radio. Near the M25, though, the playback is interrupted by an ominous announcement: "Peoples of the Earth, please attend carefully. The information that follows is vital to the future of all of you..."

Up in Heaven, the Metatron is hijacking every sound-emitting device on Earth to transmit the "good news" about the Second Coming. He makes a smarmy, patronising speech about how wonderful it's going to be and how humanity should rejoice about the culmination of the Great Plan etc. etc. before introducing "Supreme Archangel Raphael" and handing him the trumpet to blow to formally begin hostilities. "Raphael" takes the trumpet (a tad dubiously, but the Metatron's too full of himself to notice) but doesn't immediately move to use it. Instead, in a deep and resonant voice, he says, "Before we begin, there is a quotation that I feel is very appropriate at this juncture." He then drops the "Raphael" illusion entirely and scrunches up the trumpet like tissue paper as he says, "As a wise and wily serpent once said, 'Great pustulent mangled BOLLOCKS to the GREAT BLASTED PLAN!'", his voice rising through the octaves to the familiar Aziraphale tones.

As Metatron has a major 'oh crap' moment (and Crowley, barrelling along the motorway, registers surprise, affection, pride and intense concern simultaneously), Aziraphale builds on his advantage of surprise to bluntly explain exactly what's really intended to happen, viciously and succinctly eviscerating the concept of 'Rapture' and the idea of Heaven and Hell giving a flying fuck about humanity, utterly condemning the celestial/infernal ego games and urging any angels or demons who've been doubting the plan to desert, explore life on Earth for themselves and make their own decisions.

Metatron, having recovered from the shock, tries to get his plans back on track. "My Lord Archan--"

"No." Aziraphale starts determinedly walking towards the elevators. "My name is Aziraphale. I am a Principality, and I claim the Earth and every living being upon it as my protectorate. The Archangel Raphael died a very long time ago, as you should know full well, Metatron, given that you murdered him."

The Metatron switches to faux-concern: "You have to do this! you're going against the Great Plan! You'll be damned--"

Aziraphale shrugs and keeps walking. "I am reliably informed that it's not so bad once you get used to it."

The Metatron is furious now: "You're a worthless remnant stitched together from worthless remnants, and if you want to have any value at all in your miserable little existence--"

Aziraphale makes a dismissive gesture and keeps walking, outwardly unaffected. (Cutaway to Crowley: "Oh, angel... I'm gonna pamper you SO HARD when I get you home...") He's making surprisingly good progress, between the confusion he's sown in the ranks and the support of those members of his old platoon who elected to stay behind and keep an eye on him. The Metatron manages to exhort a very few of the really fanatical loyalists to try to stop Aziraphale by force, heavily outnumbered though they are. Not many of them get through to Aziraphale, and he manages to dodge them in such a way that they end up hitting each other -- until Sandalphon, by an unlucky fluke, manages to catch him hard on the face. There's a breathless moment of shocked silence, broken by Aziraphale wryly snarking about how sloppy and complacent Sandalphon's form has become since Sodom and Gomorrah. He takes advantage of the confusion this causes to disarm Sandalphon of his sword and neutralise him, then hesitates as if to turn and support the anti-Armageddon rebels he's convinced -- they urge him to get back to Earth and Crowley. He does so with considerable haste, meeting comparatively little resistance. (Cutaway to Crowley, looking more worried than ever as the Heavenly transmission cuts off.)

[My ideas form a four-way branch at this point; the commonalities are Aziraphale crash-landing somewhere with his wings broken and/or on fire, Crowley picking him up and doing loads of healing miracles, creating a scabbard for the sword that Aziraphale is clutching like grim death, wrapping him in blankets, carrying him to the Bentley and driving him back to Soho, all the while fretting over him.

--Version 1: Aziraphale falls past an airliner and lands somewhere isolated enough that a search-and-rescue team with helicopter support comes looking for him. Aziraphale is traumatised enough to be very twitchy about letting the paramedics (who, kind or no, are after all strangers) do anything to him until Crowley shows up; he flatly refuses transport to a hospital and (by some chain of events) ends up staying the night with Crowley in the guest bedroom of a nearby cottage that proves to belong to Madame Tracy and Shadwell.

--Version 2: Aziraphale lands in the sea a couple of miles off Beachy Head, with his wings on fire -- or in some other highly visible way that sets off an immediate flurry of calls to the Coastguard. Eastbourne RNLI are tasked to the rescue, and once the Deputy Launch Authority's gotten over the initial 'WTF?' reaction, they decide to launch the station's Tamar-class all-weather lifeboat to fish him out (reasoning that when rescuing a casualty with a 12-foot wingspan, it'd be sensible to have the larger, more stable vessel). Crowley roars up to the lifeboat station in the Bentley right as the Tamar is launched, pops his wings and flies off after the boat with a cry of, "AZIRAPHALE, YOU MAD BASTARD, WHERE ARE YOU???" He actually finds Aziraphale first, grabs his hand and holds on to him with grim determination, which makes things a lot easier for the RNLI crew -- a demon with huge and distinctive wings is a heck of a lot easier to spot than a football-sized lump on the surface of even slightly rolling seas. Plus, between physical and psychological fatigue, injuries and voluminous, waterlogged robes, Aziraphale probably wouldn't have been able to miracle himself afloat long enough for the lifeboat crew to get there. Thanks to Crowley, though, get there they do, and once the Ineffables are safely on board they turn back for the lifeboat station; Crowley fusses around Aziraphale, doing healing and drying miracles and getting in the way of crew trying to do casualty care, while the coxswain tries to figure out how to put all this into the post-rescue report. Back at the station, the crew check the Ineffables over again, feed them choccy biscuits and hot sweet tea, then see them on their way. (And there's a *very* interesting segment on Saving Lives At Sea a few months later!)

--Version 3a: Aziraphale lands in St James' Park and drags himself over to their bench without intervention from passers-by, who (if they notice him at all) assume he's doing some sort of performance art.

--Version 3b: Aziraphale lands in St James' Park and is immediately besieged by solicitous bystanders -- some genuinely want to help, but some others in the crowd are classic Nice Little Old Ladies who think they Know Best and everyone should do as they say because they go to church in fancy clothes every Sunday; they barge around being unhelpfully helpful and ignoring or steamrolling over Aziraphale's protests that he's fine and just needs to rest, until one of them grabs his broken wing, saying, "My grandson's an ornithologist, dear, I know what I'm doing," and twists it. Aziraphale screams in agony and Crowley, already approaching at speed, teleports over and verbally tears the little-old-lady brigade a new one, all hissy and snarly and protective.]

Regardless of branch, cut to Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death, where Nina is wrangling a gaggle of obnoxious influencer types out of the door, to cheers from the regular clientele. One of them comments jovially about how worrying it'd be if she ever lost her knack for that, which leads to a more general discussion about people acting out of character -- fading abruptly when Nina notices something outside and makes a grim comment about people who normally drive like absolute bloody maniacs suddenly acting like they're transporting fragile glass sculptures. Crowley's driving is notorious enough in Soho that everyone immediately rushes to the window to see the Bentley creeping gently into its spot outside the Bookshop. Crowley clambers out slowly, closes the driver's door quietly and moves around the car while Nina and the customers speculate about the fluffy white bundle they briefly glimpsed in the passenger seat. Their hypotheses are blown out of the water when Crowley straightens up, holding a sleepy Aziraphale in a bridal carry (wings, robes, sword and all), bumps the car door closed with his butt and carries his angel gently into the Bookshop, popping his wings for umbrella purposes when it starts raining.

In the Bookshop, Gabriel, Beelzebub and Muriel are almost more perturbed by Aziraphale's injured state than they were by the Heavenly transmission earlier. Without anything being spoken aloud, they help Crowley get him out of the Archangel robes and tucked up in bed. Crowley takes a certain savage glee in picking up the removed robes, chucking them out of the window and setting them on fire before removing boots, shades and blazer and snuggling next to his angel.

The next morning, Crowley drifts awake to find that Aziraphale has wriggled around significantly during the night and is now clinging to him big-spoon style, with all the tenacity of a particularly traumatised barnacle. Unwilling to deny his angel the comfort and closeness after the trauma of the past couple of months, he dozes and snuggles quietly, until the sound of the angelic deserters changing guard duty shifts reminds him that the Bookshop still isn't fully secure. Aziraphale has by this time woken up and is keenly aware of the same issue. He's determined to get the wards sorted immediately if not sooner; Crowley knows he's right that it needs doing, but is worried that he's pushing himself too hard, too soon. They bicker about it lightly while getting dressed -- a process slightly complicated by Aziraphale still feeling rather shaky and having considerable trouble pulling his wings back in. Crowley helps out with some small miracles, hands Aziraphale his walking stick from 1862 and does his bow tie. He takes a step back to bask in the warm fuzzies of seeing his angel looking like himself again; Aziraphale in turn gets very mushy about the exact finger his signet ring ended up on, enough to grab Crowley's lapels and pull him in for a quick smooch before they get to work.

Downstairs, Gabriel, Beelzebub and Muriel are worriedly discussing Aziraphale and the upcoming apocalypse, until the angel in question appears on the mezzanine, chiming in with some authoritative, reassuring statement. Between his outfit, demeanour and wings, he cuts a very impressive figure; the effect might have been undercut by an uncertain wobble as he starts to go down the stairs, but Crowley deftly draws attention away from that while going backwards down the staircase ahead of Aziraphale, reassuring him along the lines of, "I'll catch you if you fall." Once down, Aziraphale is businesslike in corralling Team Ineffable to help scrub out the summoning circle and prepare for the re-casting of the wards. When the time comes for him and Crowley to actually perform that particular miracle, though, he hesitates, remembering everything that happened as a result of the last joint miracle. Gabriel picks up on this and points out that this time around, there's absolutely no need to be clandestine -- and given that the super-subtle hiding miracle clocked a game-breaking 25 Lazarii, he personally is very interested to see what this one'll do. Buoyed up by this, the Ineffable Husbands set to the working with a will, creating a fairly epic lightshow!

Cut to Heaven, where the miracle detection system goes interestingly berserk and then explodes.

Cut back to the Bookshop, where Aziraphale is leaning slightly on Crowley and making his way to his comfy chair as all the angel-adrenaline of the past few days finally presents its bill.

Shenanigans happen! Team Ineffable and their human allies do awesome things! The Second Coming is a damp squib because so many angels and demons refuse to play along! The whole rotten house of cards gets torn down! Jesus nopes out of the whole mess and leaves the Ineffable Husbands with a means of contacting him, along with an offer to do their wedding catering pro bono! Mysteries are resolved in the most positive way possible! All the other weirdness is explained! The Ineffable Husbands talk about stuff! The Metatron is permanently banished to an inescapable plane where he can do nothing except tread barefoot on Lego and sharpened metal d4s for all eternity! Crowley gets to ask questions of God and Aziraphale gets to call Her out in detail for being so fuckin' awful, treating people as things, condoning so much cruelty in service of a never-explained Plan and calling it 'love'! She offers to marry them then and there, but they both refuse because that feels too much like an offer of Heaven's approval on Heaven's terms, not theirs! (and so on and so forth)

A few nights later, Aziraphale and Crowley head to the roof of the bookshop. Crowley fishes out a sheaf of notes and sketches which he's been working on for the past week or so, sets them floating and flirtatiously asks Aziraphale for an assist with the night's planned miracle. Aziraphale (knowing exactly what's needed because Crowley's been consulting with him closely regarding tonight's hijinks) sets a miraculous filter over London that cancels out all of the light pollution without messing with the working of the streetlights and so on. As the sky becomes a glorious Bortle class 1 panorama, he hugs Crowley from behind and they both pop their wings as Crowley calls down cosmic dust from one of his nebulae and gets to work on it, making a ring. Once done, he turns to Aziraphale and stutters and mumbles at length, forgetting his planned speech now that it comes time to give it. He eventually finds some sort of words and goes down on one knee, offering the ring. Aziraphale is happy-squeeing and wiggling so hard he can barely put his acceptance into coherent words, but Crowley finally puts the ring on his finger and they proceed to snog each other senseless. After about five or ten minutes, a cork whizzes past their heads, close enough to ruffle their hair, and they look over the parapet to see the Whickber Street Traders breaking out the champagne, evidently having figured out what was going on treating it as something worth celebrating.

The next day, #DameVeraLynn is trending and Berkeley Square is playing host to an impromptu convention of very confused bird-watchers and breathlessly excited BBC reporters. Because the Whickber Street Traders are taking the view that 'if the Bookshop's a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'', so the Ineffable Fiances don't find out until mid afternoon, when Mr Arnold drops by with the ornithological gossip and a brochure of upcoming concerts at the Royal Albert Hall. Other engagement presents come in from the Whickber Street Traders over the next day or two -- tiramisu brownies from Mrs Sandwich (her special extra-boozy recipe) for example, and a stack of Steeleye Span records from Maggie (Cam Ye O'er Frae France [one of my audio-stimmy faves], Thomas the Rhymer, The Making of a Man [Pterry's favourites], Gaudete [super appropriate for GO in like 3 different ways], The Dark Morris Song [my top favourite]), who thought Aziraphale might like them even if they're not his usual thing.

A few days later, Saraquel comes to the Bookshop having finally finished cleaning up in what's left of Heaven -- and immediately bounces off the restored wards. Trying not to be visibly intimidated by Aziraphale's obvious annoyance as he opens the doors, she requests entry, but he flatly denies her, icicles dripping from every phoneme. "You are directly complicit in the attempted or actual murder by ego-death of thousands of angels and two instances of attempted omnicide. You stole my memories and tried to squash me out of existence twice; don't you dare try to pretend you were being merciful there. You were perfectly happy to try to murder two of my neighbours who I consider valued friends. Your bridges are burned, Saraquel. You are not welcome here. Leave Earth of your own volition and never return, or Crowley and I will eject you by force." He takes Crowley's hand in preparation for a joint miracle, and Saraquel is alarmed enough to flee immediately (Michael and Dagon, lurking and observing in the background, wisely decide to bugger off to Betelgeuse rather than test the Ineffables' patience further). Aziraphale quietly closes the Bookshop doors and leans shakily on them and Crowley.

Cut to the Ineffable Wedding! It's a handfasting at Tadfield Manor, with the former Sister Mary Loquacious officiating. The occasion is very well-attended -- the Whickber Street Traders, Madame Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell, Anathema and Newt, the Them, the entirety of Aziraphale's old platoon (who adapt the tradition of forming a sabre arch for the newlyweds to walk under), Gabriel and Beelzebub are in attendance, with Muriel as Best Person. The catering is being ably handled by a cheerful guy who seems to produce amazing food and drink out of nowhere, the reception playlist is delightfully varied, and a good time is had by all! The Ineffables take a breather in the Bentley afterwards to let the fact that they did it properly sink in, then hold meaningful eye contact for about five seconds before smooching passionately and driving off to their honeymoon.

At a certain South Downs cottage, on an early summer evening -- there's a garden full of fruit and vegetables and herbs and spices and flowers. Aziraphale brings tea and cakes out to a neat little table on the patio as Crowley finishes intimidating the climbing roses on his mini-observatory and sashays over, pausing to pluck an apple from the tree. They share it as they appreciate their freedom to be truly together, as well as how far they've come since making that nebula...

[Pan up to sunset over picturesque landscape, roll credits]

***

Whoof, that was a bit of a marathon! As I said at the start, I doubt most if any of the events recounted above are going to happen in Season Three, but my brain does tend to run away and do its own thing! For what it's worth, what I think is *likely* to happen in S3 is a combination of elements of The Magic Trick You Didn't See (especially the burning-cinema-screen in the opening sequence as a pointer to memories/data files being corrupted and restored from backup) and @vidavalor's terrifyingly plausible and well-grounded hypothesis that Final-Fifteen!Metatron is actually Satan, Aziraphale has capital-F Fallen and is going to start S3 amnesiac and in Hell. (The Great Balls Of Fire meta dropped when I was partway through writing this post, and on that basis my brain has careened off in an entirely different direction XD) *meep* I guess we'll just have to exspecta videque!

[averywiseanimatedcat]

Plant shelf update:

I might be going a bit insane and theming the plants and arranging the pot colours on their sides.

On Aziraphales side in the white pots:

Peace lily, Angel wing begonia and Silver Lady fern

Crowleys side in the black pots:

Snake plant and Ficus Black Knight.

The other two are having a domestic moment on the bookshelf with the ineffable board game. The plant is a bridal veil.

[nosferatini]

The Sound of Lyrics

A Belated Fluff Fest musical comedy fic for @sohoscribblers !

4.1k words - And not a trigger in sight.

🎧Recommended listening: Sound of Lyrics Soundcloud Playlist

Summary:

Crowley and Aziraphale are surprised to find the Metatron in the bookshop one fine Friday morning, but things proceed a little differently than the original Ineffable Plan. The angels depart, leaving Crowley anxious to get back to the flat and Aziraphale anxious to get back to his music.

Crowley might have been a little disappointed that they hadn’t wound up doing drunken breakfast at the Ritz, but he rather fancied emptying his plants and moving back in.

Nina and Maggie might have spoken to Aziraphale about the whole “talking” thing, but they found the bookshop quite decidedly locked.

So, they’re still not talking, per se. But perhaps, with the right persuasion… they will sing.

Excerpt:

Aziraphale eyed the record player over the rims of his spectacles. It was skipping; which would be nothing, if he weren’t an angel whose divine presence precluded such an occurrence. His records never skipped. Not since the invention of records.

He left the glasses at the desk and stepped toward the table. He stood there, doing his best at menace, yet his uncharacteristic scowl did nothing to deter it.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked, as if the record had an excuse.

The golden hue of the bookshop flickered in time with the scratching repetitions of that single, unflattering note of Schubert’s Symphony No. 5.

“Oh, for goodness sake,” he tutted, rolling his eyes. “Crowley, did you hex the record player?”

Now, the skipping seemed to become… musical. Aziraphale stared in fascination as the scratches became notes and the repetitions took on a rhythm of their own. Crowley was certainly to blame. The record now sounded decidedly bebop, if ever he’d heard it (he hadn’t). So he made his way back to the vintage telephone at his desk.

Crowley would simply have to come by and fix it. What a shame. Aziraphale tempered his smile, pouting as he wrapped a hand around the receiver and ignoring the song in the background.

“I was tired of my lady, we’d been together too long; Like a worn out recording, of a favorite song…”

But as angelic fingers dialed—sliding along the pathways to a number known by rote—the angel’s foot began to tap to the beat. He felt a sudden urge to read the paper. And as he gazed at the one on his desk, the letters of the headline began to shift in parody of the record’s playful masculine voice…

“…If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain; If you're not into yoga, if you have half a brain…”

Aziraphale stared, dumbstruck; slowly reasoning that the editors of The Times hadn’t decided to go tabloid with their paper. This was far more elaborate than Crowley’s usual schemes, and Aziraphale now desperately wished to talk to the demon. In fact, the more he thought about it, the greater his desire to speak… no… to sing, for Crowley.

He could feel the lyrics behind his teeth. His hand grew clammy around the receiver as he bit lips together to withhold the words like a failing dam, when Crowley’s voice drawled:

“…do it with style…”

Continue Reading on AO3

Special thanks to my betas: @finlands-world , @the-literal-kj , @playdohangel and @goodomensafterdark for the support of my guild friends :)

[rebeccasteventaylor]

It touches me that Crowley has a specific place on the bookshop to keep his glasses now.

He would take his glasses off before, but always keep them close at hand.

Now they’re off as soon as he’s through the door and onto the little horse statue where they stay. And they stay there in front of Gabriel too.

It’s very much a way of saying the bookshop is home, it’s where he feels safe, it’s where he belongs, he got a place for his things.

In the car he always keeps his glasses on, even when sleeping. His plants are there but he can’t relax.

I do wonder if Aziraphale taking the Bentley and forcing Crowley to stay in the bookshop and put his plants in there is a very subtle way of hinting that Crowley can move in even more, especially with the ‘we both get plenty of use out of it’

Although we know now from Neil that Crowley hasn’t actually told Aziraphale he’s homeless. Aziraphale may assume Crowley is still sleeping at the flat but Aziraphale, and his delicate sensibilities, won’t let him ask why all the plants are in Crowley’s car.

He does seem disappointed when Crowley rushes all his plants back into the car.

Aziraphale is like a proper Victorian lady - never ask personal questions of even your closest friends and never express a desire - merely hint at it. (Of course those are the rules heaven probably taught him too - don’t ask and don’t want)

So Aziraphale hints.::

Of course Aziraphale should know by now that Crowley misses hints completely. Years Aziraphale has been hinting Crowley should just damn well kiss him (like in the car in 1941) and Crowley has missed every one. But Aziraphale is not the kind to just act or demand action until he is completely driven to it (that’s part of the reaction to THE KISS - frustration that Crowley has finally done what Aziraphale has been hinting at only now when it’s too late)

Crowley may sleep in the car but the bookshop is home, where the glasses stay on the little horse. But he keeps wanting Aziraphale to ask him to move in and Aziraphale keeps hinting that he should and both of them are missing the point completely.

Oooh - just occurred to me that Nina saying they’re a couple might have made Crowley aware of all the hints he’s been missing all along and he has to sit down with a bottle of wine and really think about things for a while.

S3 really needs a ‘he’s loved me all along?’ moment from at least one of them.

[bigfuns-stuff]

I got into a fight with my mom about it, so here’s Good Omens characters as Romeo and Juliet characters because I just finished reading the play.

Crowley-Romeo

Aziraphale-Juliet

Mercutio-The Bentley

Benvolio-Crowley’s terrified plants

Tybalt-Gabriel

The Nurse-The Bookshop

Lady Capulet- archangel Michael 

Capulet-Uriel

The Poison-the Metratorn

The apothecary- God

Lady Montague-Ligur laVida Loca

Montague- Haster La Vista

Paris-Furfur

Friar John-Job

Friar Lawrence-the nazi zombies

Peter-Muriel  

[vidavalor]

Hello Vidavalor! I just finished reading The Vavoom and you've convinced me entirely. I just have one thing that I'm not sure on. What about Azi saying "doesn't seem likely" in the pub? Is he teasing him? Why would he reject Crowley being so hot like that?

Hi there! :) Thanks for reading. Chocolate truffle?

So, two reasons, imo, for not letting Crowley get what he wanted out of that moment. (Aziraphale was absolutely melting internally, though, let's be real lol...)

The first reason is that, yeah, he's teasing him. He likes Cupid pursuing him lol. But maybe the funnier reason is rooted in the earlier part of the conversation and that's just that Aziraphale is making some meta and hilariously bitchy judgements about Maggie and her feelings for Nina so he has trouble envisioning Crowley's romantic vision as applicable to their parallels. He calls Maggie's feelings "a pash" a bit dismissively to Crowley after a quick pause of trying to find a word he feels is accurate for what he saw in the shop and then describes the issue to Crowley as "and I don't think she knows how to conduct a courtship." He's basically like The girl's a hapless mess, dear. She has no idea what she's doing. Zero game, whatsoever. Poor Nina. In doing so, he's making a comparison between their relationship and Maggie and Nina, which is also present in his response to Crowley's idea.

Aziraphale is aware that Crowley is seizing on the opportunity to romance him a bit with his vavoomy reply but Aziraphale's response is less about how romantic the way Crowley describes their kiss is and more like he's (pretend) irritated that Crowley thinks that the kiss is replicable for other people lol. He's like you dare to bring up The Vavoom as something you could just *make happen* for *Maggie*? The same Maggie that was just sobbing in her shop over a woman who barely knows her name?

Crowley, on the other hand, is a hopeless romantic and he believes that there's a vavoom opportunity possible for anyone who wants one and, next to yelling at his plants, his favorite hobby is facilitating romance for the humans. (He also seems to have a better appreciation of Maggie not being a teenager anymore, which seems harder for Aziraphale.) If Crowley's love wants these ladies to see some potential sparks then Crowley's game. Mags needs some help wooing the Coffee Shop Human. He gets to make it rain. Great day in the works for Crowley. He was more just seizing upon the opportunity to romance Aziraphale in the process by recounting his and Aziraphale's own first kiss than completely answering Aziraphale's request for ideas for Maggie and Nina and Aziraphale knows that. He knows Crowley's point is that he is a very old being who has been on Earth for a long time and has seen countless people fall in love and his definition of romance is and always has been him and Aziraphale so, if Aziraphale is requesting the gold standard Cupid package here for Maggie and Nina, Crowley's reply is nothing less than trying for a version of when he and Aziraphale tipped from big pash into vavoom sorted.

Aziraphale's "doesn't seem likely" response to that is actually misconstrued a lot, imo, because what he really is saying is more along the lines of: Doesn't seem likely. You and I *realigned the Earth* with that kiss. Maggie and Nina don't have that kind of passion. Maggie can barely tell Nina what her name is. They are mortal humans-- you might *kill* them if you tried to replicate our sort of vavoom, Crowley. Do be careful with my shop lesbians, dear...

(I also thought this was a very funny choice for the scene because if they're burying the idea of the first kiss here, episodes before 2.06, in such a way that this scene will seem very different if it turns out in S3 that Crowley was describing their first kiss in this scene, then Aziraphale's "doesn't seem likely" is also a meta dry joke over the fact that this whole thing is debatable between S2 and S3. They already knew they were writing towards the 2.06 kiss and that some would see that as the first kiss so throwing in Aziraphale replying "doesn't seem likely" to what will ultimately be Crowley describing what actually *was* their first kiss is something that's awfully funny and is another reason in support of the vavoom theory being true, imo.)

Crowley's "No. No no no no... get humans wet and staring into each other's eyes..." response to is both knowing that Aziraphale is playing with him a little and being semi-faux-long-suffering back like oh come *on*, that was so romantic of me and you're really not going to give me anything, are you, you absolutely marvelous bastard? Sure, pet me in the pub and make me husband Mr. Vacuum away but barely blink at The Vavoom... Fine, you know what? It wasn't even us at all. I saw it in a Richard Curtis film, which we both know is total bullshit but I've got my pride, ok? That said, I will do literally anything to get His Supreme Archangelness out of the guest room with haste so whatever will do that...

...wait, why are we now talking about Jane Austen and that time in the South Downs in this love conversation, angel, hmm?

[cbsxreader]

Random and odd headcanons/ideas to keep ya'll fed while I work on requests

TF2

Sniper has a small cactus back from Australia in his camper. It's an ideal plant for him because he remembers to water it only twice a month.

Pyro knits, crochets or sews collars for cats. Some are messy, but others are actually very good and detailed.

Demoman has found a dragon's scale. But no one ever believes him it's real and assume he's just made it on his own. It's gotten to the point where he doubts if it's real or not, it is, but y'know, other people's thoughts get to him.

Engie has a crude and messy mug on his desk where he puts his pencils. The mug was made by Pyro during a team vacation by a lake, Pyro found a bunch of clay, molded the mug themselves and left it out in the sun to dry. It's messy because that kind of clay isn't the best, but the effort is what counts.

I refuse to believe that Heavy didn't have a cat or two back in Siberia that helped their family by getting rid of pests and that Heavy loved them very much.

Since Scout had a big family and probably wasn't allowed to have pets, he played with the street animals. His Ma would constantly tell him to stop but he did it behind her back sometimes.

Speaking of pets, Soldier has befriended raccoons all his life and actually has some experience with them.

Spy has a large stash of chocolates that he brings out when he's had a long day. Usually, he climbs into bed, brings his chocolates and wine along with him and watches some soap opera or drama.

Medic constantly loses the little clean cloth to clean glasses with because Archimedes likes the texture of it and steals it.

Ms. Pauling sometimes asks Sniper to make her some coffee and he waits for her in the most random places to give it to her because she doesn't have the time to make it herself.

Freak Fortress:

CBS shakes like a dog after getting wet. A lot of the times, CPS gets hit by water because Brutal just shakes it off wherever.

CPS's favourite book would be Good Omens. And no one can change my mind. Crowley and Aziraphale would remind him of him and CBS. Also, that book makes him question his sexuality-

Painis Cupcake would listen to Lady Gaga while waiting for his next victim.

(Dw if you've made a request I promise I'm working on it, these just existed in my mind before and I quickly threw them in one post)

[jillianfahey]

Good Omens Family: Sarah's six year old blessing incident

Yesterday after my first post about this I was wondering, how did Aziraphale and Crowley's daughter learn that heaven and hell were real? And I remembered how Hastur would probably try to use Sarah to get back at Crowley.

So one sunny summer day as Crowley chills as a snake in the garden keeping an eye on Sarah while he also dozed in the sun. She was just reading while leaning against the base of the tree that had been there when Zira and Crowley had moved into the cottage. All of the plants were also watching over her, they knew that as long as she was around Crowley would not punish them because she wanted to see them get better.

It was much like most other sunny afternoons with Crowley fondly thinking of how Sarah was so much like his Angel when he fell asleep. After the sleep had deepened partly naturally and partly due to a repression spell that was aimed at him for that purpose. Everything carefully set Hastur who had possessed the body of a little old lady and walked along the lane. In front of the little cottage he caused the body to drop the large basket spilling the contents.

Sarah's attention was drawn by the noise and quickly hurried up to her gate to see what the problem was. A look to her sleeping dad to check before she exited the gate, "Would you like some help?" The six year old asked the being posing as a harmless granny with all the innocence and trust of childhood.

With as warm of a smile that Hastur could draw out of the body, "That would be lovely dear." Coming closer Sarah picked up the spilled vegetables and held the basket up for the possessed granny to take. She was close enough for him to fully grab now but the smell was causing his vessels nose to twich. And the granny let out a sneeze.

Sarah looked up at him, "Bless your soul." Then she started screaming as the grandma was set on fire. Crowley, like any parent, woke up in a panic on hearing the sound and instantly turned back to his more human form.

Darting out as fast as a snake Crowley jumped over the fence and pulled Sara away from the flaming grandma before summoning water to douse the poor woman. Sending the grandma to the hospital with a wave of his hand Crowley quickly knelt down to comfort his sobbing daughter, "I'm a murderer!"

"Shhh, it's alright dove," wrapping her in his arms and picking her up, "I'm here." Walking into the house, "The granny's not dead either so you're not a murder." After getting Sarah a cup of tea and some biscuits she was finally calm enough to answer, "Can you tell me what happened before she was on fire?"

Sarah was a stress eater so she downed three biscuits before answering, "She dropped her basket so I asked if she needed help. When she said yes I picked up her vegies and put them back, and as I handed her back her basket she sneezed." Crowley was watching her carefully as the kid finshed, "So I blessed her like Papa said to."

"And she caught fire after you blessed her?" Crowley had leaned forward and there was a snakelike glint in his eyes as he asked.

Sarah nodded, "Why did she catch fire Dad?" Before he could formulate an answer her eyes filled with tears, "Did I do something wrong?"

Scooping her up again, "No, you did exactly what you were supposed to do." Hugging his daughter close Crowley silently cursed whichever demon scared her so much to the darkest torture pit of hell. He and Aziaphale would need to find a way to explain to Sarah about what had really happened today.

It was close to dinner when Azirphale got home after closing the library when Crowley met him at the door with a kiss. Noticing the lack of a little girl running up to hug him, "Where's Sarah?"

Seeing the old hunted look come into Crowley's eyes as he answered, "In the greenhouse."

Taking his husbands face into his hands Zira asked, "What happened?" On hearing the events of the day he sat down and they started talking about how to explain things to their little girl.

And that was how Sarah learned about Heaven and Hell. Also there was a new set of guidelines and rules to try to keep her safe from another attack.

[aziraphales-library]

hello! i was wondering if you could help me find some fics where aziraphale and crowley get drunk together and maybe realize some things about each other. not looking for anything specific, just that. thank u so much!!!!

Hey! We have some drunken fics here. And I've got a few more for you now...

I want to hold your hand (I think you'll understand) by victoridiaz (T)

“You’ll like this one.” Said Crowley, already pulling out one of the records. “It’s culture, Angel. You’ve got to get your head out of the eighteenth century.” What the hell, thought Aziraphale. He was feeling a bit adventurous tonight. He let Crowley man the record player. Aziraphale wasn’t very good with it anyway. - Crowley and Aziraphale get very drunk one night and Crowley decides to introduce the angel to a band he really should have heard of by now.

one late night (and another, and another) by gomensgay (G)

One night, after far more alcohol than was typically advisable, Aziraphale lets slip something he never meant to say. Something that, somehow, Crowley has heard before.

Human Affection by Lady of Prompts (G)

One night over drinks, Crowley makes an assertion about humans and kissing. After all, he *knows* these things, right? But Aziraphale refuses to believe him, and there's only one way to prove his point. Or, possibly, two idiots who are drunk and silly and very comfortable with each other having a very silly argument. Written for the Kisses_Bingo event, prompt: Behind the Knee Kiss -- Aziraphale’s hand was resting right there. Grinning, Crowley snatched it up and kissed the back of it. Well. Nearly. Thumb is technically part of the hand. “Crowley!” The angel jerked his hand free. “What’s that s’posed to prove?” “You din’ like it?”

Uncontrollable by Mizmak (G)

Will the kiss a drunken Aziraphale plants on Crowley's lips be an act he regrets when sober?

They have hands, but cannot feel by Augenblickgotter (M)

Aziraphale and Crowley have skated around each other, literally barely touching, and quietly longing. They've even had close calls and almost let potential feelings slip out. After averting the Armageddon, Aziraphale feels there's no time like now to confess how he feels. Does Crowley feel the same, or has he been toying with him all these years? Lots of yearning, drunk confession, pining, soul bearing and revealing and mild sexual situations.

That's Not Funny by cyankelpie (G)

Aziraphale has never sensed even a shred of love from Crowley, which is perfectly alright. It isn't Crowley's fault demons can't love. But then Crowley makes what must be a cruel joke at his expense, and Aziraphale can't control his emotions as well while drunk. Luckily, he doesn't remember the confession in the morning. Crowley doesn't see why the angel was so upset over something he probably knew all along, but he'll make sure it stays forgotten.

- Mod D