#didn’t she take her name in the eye-pocalypse???

[patroclus-rex]

doppelgängers, jon and martin being dead (possibly), and helen and basira mention????

[nyctolovian]

Oh my goodness! My first Good Omens fic!! I finally did it! So yeah uhhhh enjoy this weird thing

Summary: A pair of wedding rings had somehow come into Crowley’s possession (it was purchased) and she decides she might as well do a marriage proposal while she’s at it.

It was an entirely human concept—marriage, that is. If anything, this was an attempt at blending in. They were already so often mistaken as a married couple. They might as well play the part. So yep, the pair of rings Crowley bought was a front. All to fool any onlookers and play the role they have already been assigned to by the humans.

Surely, Aziraphale would understand.

Or at least, that’s what Crowley told herself as she sat in her Bentley, practically bouncing in her seat with nervous energy. It was a lazy Tuesday afternoon, many months after the Not-pocalypse.

No angel nor demon had ever bothered them since and the two have settled back into their previous lives before being so rudely interrupted by plans for war. Perhaps “settled back ” was the wrong term because it had felt more like coming home for the first time, shucking off a stiff coat they’ve been wearing all this while and flinging it onto the coat hanger at the end of a terribly long day.

They were finally able to simply be without worrying about how they should take their next breath. No need to think or overthink.

So it was no surprise that between spotting a lovely pair of rings, and envisioning slipping them on (one on a spindly, nail-bitten finger and the other on a plump, manicured finger), Crowley found herself outside the angel’s bookshop with the pair in her pocket. Completely without proper thought, on autodrive, drunk on serendipity.

After all, it was a well-known fact that while Crowley was brilliant at coming up with ideas, she was godawful at thinking them through.

Gingerly, Crowley fished the pair of rings out of her pocket. Crowley couldn’t be blamed for her impulsiveness. They really were quite gorgeous. Perfect for them even.

Crowley collapsed further into the driver’s seat with an aggravated sigh. Oh, who was she trying to kid? This was most definitely a selfish romantic gesture that bordered on possessiveness. Unbecoming of a demon, really. Or perhaps rather appropriate given that greed was a sin. Not that anyone was keeping track of her demonic work anymore.

But what would Aziraphale say?

Somewhere between the not-pocalypse and present day, they had silently settled into a romantic relationship. The Day After The End, something—some sort of clear dividing line between the two of them—dissolved. And somewhere between then and now, they had settled into a romantic relationship. The tipping point was not clear but where they’ve landed was immensely so. A result of literal thousands of years dancing around each other in overly complex rituals and choreography for fear of being caught red-handed. It was difficult shaking off certain habits, and the two still found safety in playing out their usual game of implications and knowing glances so it simply continued past the need for it.

These rings however… Quite frankly, it would utterly shatter their defensive veil of pretense and dance. The nature of the relationship would be out in the open, and that wasn’t even getting to the fact that the rings were a direct request for something more; greedy demon that Crowley was.

With a noise between a groan and a growl, Crowley grabbed the box of cheesecake in her passenger seat, threw the car door open and sauntered to the bookshop with conviction.

“Hiya, Angel!” she said as the door to the bookshop swung open at the snap of her fingers.

A rather exasperated Aziraphale was attending to a red-faced young lady, who clutched an ancient-looking book in her hands. The corners of his eyes, however, wrinkled with delight at Crowley’s voice and he spun around, hands clutched together in front of his belly. “Oh, Crowley! I didn’t know you were coming!” he said. “I love it when you tie your hair up like that. It’s very lovely.”

“You say that no matter what I do to my hair,” Crowley muttered. She felt a blush grow on her cheeks nonetheless.

“That’s because it’s always true,” he replied. Primly, he turned back to the agitated lady and said, “I’m afraid we will have to close shop this instant. Seeing that we cannot come to an agreement, I’m afraid I cannot sell you this book.” He slid the book right out of her hands and pushed it into the bookshelf.

“But—” The lady’s face got even redder. Crowley wondered how much blood this woman had in her to turn this shade. “Just tell me what price you’re willing to sell this for!” she yelled.

Pursing his lips in annoyance, Aziraphale said, “As I’ve said, you decide what price you’re willing to pay and I’ll decide if that’s the price I'm—”

Throwing her hands up, the lady let out a screech of frustration. “This is impossible!” she screamed as she marched towards the door, shoving past Crowley with a scowl.

“Do come back another day if you wish to re-negotiate,” Aziraphale called.

“I’m never setting foot into this bloody shop ever again!” she yelled back from the door. “Go to fucking hell!”

“I already have,” Aziraphale, the cheeky bastard, looking much too pleased with himself, replied as the lady slammed the door shut.

As he flipped the door signage to “Close”, Crowley stuck a hand in her pocket nervously. After clearing her throat lightly, she said, “Arrived at a convenient time, didn’t I?”

“Oh,” he said, “you have no idea. That lady has been badgering me for the past hour. I admire the tenacity but I’d appreciate it if she didn’t use it for acquiring my books.” With a small pout, he looked at Crowley. “Can you imagine parting with a First Edition Oscar Wilde?”

Crowley let out a grunting hum that conveyed a simultaneous sort of non-understanding and sympathy. She raised the box of cake and said, “Got several gifts.”

“Ah!” the angel said, clapping his hands together, his frown disappearing altogether. He peered into the bag before heading towards the kitchen. “Do take a seat, my dear. I have just the right tea to go with that lovely cheesecake.”

Crowley nodded stiffly and crumpled into her armchair. She shifted in her seat anxiously, unable to find a comfortable position. Where were legs supposed to go again? Surely her skinny jeans were never actually this tight. And perhaps wearing her hair in a loose bun like this was a terrible idea, too much fringe and curtains.

Before the snake demon could sort herself out, Aziraphale returned with a tray of plates and tea and slid it onto the table. With nimble fingers, he opened the box and cut out two neat slices of the cake. As soon as Crowley took his plate of cake, Aziraphale wasted no time and gently used his fork carve out a bit of the cheesecake. Crowley watched intently as he popped it between his lips and moaned around the mouthful, his eyes fluttering shut with pleasure. He slid the fork out of his mouth and his pink tongue ducked out to lick off some of the cream coating his lips. How on earth the angel could make eating practically pornographic was beyond Crowley’s comprehension, but she absorbed the view like a dehydrated sponge.

Aziraphale noticed her gaze. “This is absolutely scrumptious,” he said after swallowing.

A smile slid onto her face with ease. “Hm. ’s that so?”

Crowley proceeded to devour her slice, and then spent the rest of the hour watching Aziraphale slowly work his way through the rest of the cake.

Despite the lovely distraction, however, Crowley found her mind wandering back towards the tiny ring box in her pocket. She squirmed as the thoughts invaded her mind again, like locusts upon a field. It wasn’t too late to just let the day go by and never mention the rings. This was far too impulsive anyway. Aziraphale might not even appreciate it. Maybe Crowley would be going too fast for him again.

But, her mind also supplied, Aziraphale was the one who gave Crowley the keys to his flat above the bookshop. Not that Crowley needed it—she could always miracle her way into his flat if she needed to—but it was about the symbolism and implication. An invitation. An invitation that she took because ever since, she had only entered her flat at Mayfair to collect her belongings and settle scores with the plants.

Maybe Aziraphale wouldn’t mind. Maybe he’d be delighted. Maybe the keys to his flat were the hints. Maybe he was waiting.

But what if she was reading it all wrong? She never was good at reading, snake eyes and all. He could very well be—

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, startling her. The plate clinked lightly as he placed it on the table. “Is there something wrong?”

“Hnk! Nothin’. Nothing’s wrong. ’s all fine. Why d'you ask?”

“Your sunglasses…”

Crowley made a punched out noise and writhed a little in her chair. “Angel, I—” Her voice snagged on her throat and her lips flapped open and close silently.

It was now or never. And never was a dreadfully long time for an immortal being.

She raised her ass off the seat so she could reach into her jean pocket and yank out the tiny box. Aziraphale’s bottom lip jutted in confusion. With a deep breath (which Crowley’s corporation frankly didn’t need), she slid off the couch, ripped off her sunglasses and dropped to her knee before opening the box.

There, neatly sat a pair of rings with identical feathered-wing designs at their open ends. Aziraphale’s name was neatly engraved on the inner curve of the silver ring and Crowley’s on the black one.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Crowley,” he breathed. “You don’t mean—” Cheeks tinted pink with surprise, he leaned forward.

Crowley swallowed the uncomfortable lump in her throat. Her arm gradually lowered as she muttered, “If… it’s too much—”

“It’s not,” Aziraphale said quickly. “This–” He cleared his throat. “This is a… um… proposal, yes?”

Crowley nodded.

“Fancy that. Getting married,” Aziraphale mused, fondness dripping from his voice. “Wouldn’t it be lovely?”

Crowley let out a huff of relief and she fought against the soppy smile tugging upon her lips. She fumbled with the box and her trembling fingers were barely capable of holding the black ring. Gently, she cupped the angel’s hand. Those soft hands curled lightly over her fingers and she swore she must have been blessed or something because a shock ran down her spine.

This must be a dream, she thought giddily as she slid the ring onto his fourth finger. She glanced up to see Aziraphale’s radiant glee, a grin that wrinkled his cheeks and the corners of his eyes and spread into his temples.

No dream could match the ethereal blessing of that smile, Crowley knew. This is absolutely real.

“Humans and their little inventions, y'know?” she whispered in reverence.

“Indeed,” Aziraphale replied. “I do quite enjoy it when they do that. It can all be rather, well, exciting.”

Crowley couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “S'pose that’s one way to put it,” she mumbled.

He leaned down to pick up the ring box. The cool ticklish sensation as he slipped the silver ring onto Crowley’s finger drew the most delicious shade of rose out of her.  “Do you suppose we should have a wedding?” the angel asked.

The demon faltered, pulling back with a slight frown. She twisted in her spot, struggling for a coherent thought, before she mumbled, “Anything’s fine, honestly. As long as there are no churches involved.”

Aziraphale burst into the most pleasing belly laugh as he pulled her into a tight embrace. “Of course, my dear.”

[tardis-stowaway]

Ten years after the Not-pocalypse, Adam Young, age 21 and recently graduated from university:

-Works in a crappy retail job and lives in a tiny, crappy flat in London

-The crappy flat has no sound insulation, so he’s always hearing the absurd amount of movement from the people in the flat above and the really loud but not quite intelligible conversations from the people in the flat next door. It’s a long way to the nearest public park, and he misses the green of home.

-Is not all that good at his customer service job, with the exception that if a customer is irrationally angry about something, he says he wants to make sure he understands the problem and repeats their complaint back to them with this look in his eyes, and they universally back down and often apologize. His coworkers love him for it. Everything else is just drudgery.

-Single, despite his best efforts. Okay, maybe not his best efforts, but some efforts.

-Knows that his childhood was uncommonly idyllic at least partly due to his powers. He’s not entirely sure how his life went quite so off the rails lately.

-Maybe his powers have faded gradually since he rejected his destiny, or maybe it’s just that on some level he absorbed the expectation that being in one’s early 20’s means being broke and a little lost, and the expectation made it happen whether he wanted it or not.

-Or maybe he just should’ve chosen a more employable course of study at uni instead of comparative religion. In his defense, it seemed relevant to his life.

-Spends much of his free time on climate crisis activism. He’ll be damned (ha) if he stood against the forces of Heaven and Hell, the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse, and his own birthright to preserve the continuing existence of humanity on the Earth only for humans to blunder into destroying themselves unintentionally through greed and shortsighted decisions.

-He’s been doing this since he was twelve, when Brian sent the Them’s group text an article about the group Extinction Rebellion with the caption “named for us?? :)” Adam had laughed, then actually read the article. Within a week he’d convinced the Them and a dozen of their classmates to show up at the next town council meeting with a list of sustainability demands.

-No matter how many civil disobedience events he takes part in, he never seems to get arrested. Adam suspects it’s his supernatural entity privilege. Pepper says it’s probably mostly that he’s white and great at charming his way out of trouble.

-He’s still friends with all of the Them, but they don’t live especially close together. He does have a flatmate, an American who Adam met at uni.

-At this point you, a genre-savvy reader of much Good Omens fic and meta, are probably seeing the word “American” and thinking that Adam is flatmates with Warlock Dowling. For once, you are wrong. 

-Adam’s flatmate is Jesus.

-Not Jesus Christ, but a young man named Jesus Dominguez, pronounced the Spanish way (like hay-soos).

-Jesus is from Southern California, and he talks more than a little bit like a surfer stereotype. He’s got warm brown skin, shoulder-length dark hair in perpetually-mussed waves, and a little beard. He’s kinda leaning into the look  to mess with people, but it’s also the same style found on at least a third of the other male-presenting hipsters in London.

-When he learned that he was going to share a flat with someone named Jesus, Adam called Crowley and Aziraphale. He’s never been gladder that he stayed in touch with them, because he NEEDED someone who understood how the Antichrist and Jesus sharing a flat sounded like the setup for a joke or a sitcom. Crowley did indeed laugh out loud, then told Adam that as a fellow lapsed member of the forces of Hell, he could personally recommend sharing quarters with a heavenly adversary. Aziraphale just muttered “oh, stop” at Crowley.

-Adam moved to London because it was easier to get to the important protests there, and because he was curious. He spent the first six months desperately homesick for Tadfield. The city was so crowded but somehow he still felt so alone, other than Jesus.

-Then a midnight fire-alarm in their building sent him and Jesus into the streets along with dozens of their neighbors. Adam finally met the people in the flat above theirs who made all that moving around noise. They were an older couple who took ballroom dancing lessons at the senior center and liked to practice at home. Mrs. Kapoor tried to teach Adam how to foxtrot right there on the pavement in the middle of the night. He stepped on her feet, but since he was in bare feet and she’d actually taken the time to find shoes it wasn’t a big deal.

-Meanwhile Jesus was finally talking to the loud young men from next door. By the time Adam wandered over, Jesus had learned their names (Leon, Seamus, and Nazim) and secured an invitation for the two of them to come over to watch Saturday’s football match, and to join their next D&D campaign (“just no more  paladins,” said Nazim). Adam looked forward to finding out whether it was the D&D or the football that was the cause of more yelling.

-As the evacuation stretched on with no hint of either actual fire or clearance to go back inside, the building’s children began to get fussy. Adam found a coin on the ground (successfully picking it up, because Crowley didn’t make it to this neighborhood very often) and proceeded to distract them with stage magic.

-He initially learned stage magic from Aziraphale, but he’s better at it than the angel ever was. He hardly cheats physical reality at all. The kids love it.

-When the fire department finally gives them the clearance to go back inside, Adam’s stomach rumbles. “Is anyone else hungry?,” he asks, to a chorus of agreement. It’s too late for any nearby takeout, but Jesus chats with their neighbors about options.

-Jesus enlists Adam’s help in going from flat to flat gathering ingredients from everyone, and before long they’re serving fish tacos and grilled cheese sandwiches to a small crowd of pajama-clad people. It’s 2 am, but everyone is smiling, or at least has contentment at the edge of their yawns.

-The next day, Mrs. Kapoor brings Adam and Jesus a spider plant cutting, because she thought their flat looked too bare. Adam texts a picture of it to Crowley and receives back lengthy instructions on watering, pot size, soil, and the most effective threats for the species.

-Five months later, the local planning council has an intense debate about why crime rates in one neighborhood have dropped by 75% since their last meeting. They each try to claim credit for their pet civic projects. Actually, it’s because Adam Young has started to love London, or at least his nook of it.

-Buskers soon realize that certain tube stops are generating far more tips than they ever have before, with no obvious demographic shift accounting for the change. The common ground is that these are the stops on Adam’s commutes to work and his activist meetings. He can only occasionally spare a tip himself, but his enjoyment of the music is contagious.

-Even after the breakthrough, not every day is good. On a late summer day that just happens to be the anniversary of the day the world didn’t end, Adam comes home from a protest fuming.

-“Dude, you okay?” asks Jesus, looking up from his guitar. (Jesus sometimes goes to protests with Adam, but not usually the ones where they’re planning on breaking laws. “I’m a brown-skinned foreigner, man. Do you think I’ll get away with what you get away with? I’m not ready for that yet,” he says, and Adam can’t argue.)

-“The media barely showed up at our event, probably because it was about a million degrees and even though that’s exactly what we’re protesting, nobody wants to be out in it. Six of our people passed out from the heat and three got arrested. They still didn’t arrest me, but I got pushed over and cracked my phone screen. On my way home, some drunk on the tube vomited on my shoes. Our green jobs bill still doesn’t have the votes in Parliament, and have you seen the latest news on the Antarctic ice sheets?” Adam kicks off his shoes, then collapses dramatically onto the futon and groans.

-“Sounds rough,” says Jesus.

-“I should’ve just ended the damn world when I was eleven and I had the chance. Would’ve been quicker,” Adam mutters.

-Jesus gets up and goes to the kitchen. He brings Adam a beer. “You don’t mean that, bro,” he says.

-Adam sighs, accepting the beer. “I suppose not.”

-He drinks his beer. Dog, now grey-muzzled and slow, shuffles over to curl up at his feet. Adam pulls out his phone, which is cracked but still seems functional. He’s got a text from Aziraphale.

-“Dear Adam,” the text begins, because Aziraphale might have finally deigned to learn to text but he steadfastly refused to adopt its stylistic conventions, “I hope that you have returned safely from today’s protest. I’m very proud of your continuing efforts, and though he won’t admit it I know that Crowley feels the same. Please write back at your earliest convenience. Fondly, Aziraphale”

-Adam texts back to reassure the angel, who will doubtless pass it on to Crowley, then he texts similar reassurances to his parents and to Mrs. Kapoor upstairs. He’s still figuring out this adulthood thing, but he’s got a lot of parental figures looking out for him. His Infernal Bio-Dad isn’t one of them, and that’s the way Adam likes it.

-Through the open window comes the sound of music blasting from a car stuck in traffic below. Freddie Mercury and David Bowie are singing:

And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night, And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves.

-He turned down the chance to rule the world, and he’d make the same choice again, but he still feels a certain proprietary responsibility towards the planet and its inhabitants. His father—his real, earthly father—didn’t raise him to shirk responsibility, and he’s not one to cave under pressure.

-Life is hard, people are mostly idiots, and the world is coming apart at the seams, but it’s his messed up life and his idiotic people and his beautiful, half-broken world.

[ineffable0husbands]

Fic title: A Change of Management in Heaven

Warnings: Crying, breakdowns, anger, alcohol use, blood, glass breaking, possibly a suicide attempt (but the character’s drunk so it’s more of an accident), suicidal ideation, and self-hatred

Ship(s): Ineffable Husbands. Platonic Gabriel & Aziraphale, and Platonic Gabriel & Crowley

tag list: @adoratato @iamdevilantlysatan @bri-cas @that-gender-bender@scum-of-the-earth @pieces-of-annedrew@scampycat4999@elrilsf @my-emo-child @always-reading2 @larrklopp @l-garnxtt @halbarryislife@ninjacatinsanitycrazy@impossiblynervouscycle @audder17 @boredafsposts @i-really-dig-the-purple@mycrappylife01@lostwolf-fandomlover@hamiltrashphannerd@she-who-must-not-be-named@sundry-whovengerslocked@deceitfullyanxiousprince@booklover223@twdlover03@drunkinfandomstuff @nimsy1920 @catsarebestest @sonic-spade@reprehensibleghost @to-dance-among-stars-in-dreams@afternoon-sunlight @danifandxm @oddpopsicle @rise-abxve @shipping–hell

The last person Crowley expected to see in a crowded pub on a Saturday night was the archangel Gabriel, but there he was in all his shining glory, hair a mess and usual pristine suit replaced with an outfit akin to what he’d worn at the Not-Pocalypse. They were darker though, a dull grey color, not their usual white. He was surrounded by empty glasses and bottles and looked about ready to pass out, but he called to the bartender for another beer. Crowley wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“What are you doing here?” Crowley spat, taking his usual seat at the bar and waving for his drink. They knew him well here; he came every day at the same time since the early ‘70s. Of course, the bartenders all assumed he was keeping up some sort of family tradition, much like Shadwell with the witchfinder army (until he figured out the truth). Gabriel looked up blearily, squinting at the demon before tensing.

“Crowley. Fancy seeing you here,” Gabriel said with a stiff smile, trying to remain calm as he leaned against the bar. “Just getting a few drinks, you?” Crowley glanced at the numerous glasses and bit back a smart reply of how it didn’t look like just a few drinks to him. 

“Doing the same. Aziraphale wanted to spend some time reading and I’m not really one for just lounging around,” he lied easily. The truth was, the angel was visiting Madame Tracy and Shadwell and Crowley just didn’t want to admit he was lonely; not to Gabriel. Gabriel hummed and nodded, a flicker of sadness in his eyes as he lifted the glass to his lips. 

“How is he? Aziraphale?” Crowley scowled.

“Why do you care? You tried to murder him,” Crowley muttered. Gabriel tensed and his grip on the glass tightened so much it shattered. Crowley jumped back in surprise and a few of the bar’s patrons cried out. Gabriel grabbed a napkin and pressed it to his bleeding hand, muttering apologies to the bartender as he grabbed the shards of glass, cutting his hands up more as he shakily went over to the bar’s rubbish pin and threw it away. Tiredly, he healed his hands and went back to his seat. 

“You alright? Didn’t get any glass on you?” Gabriel asked, giving Crowley a once-over and checking for broken glass on his clothes. Crowley shook his head and moved his seat a little further away. Gabriel was clearly drunk out of his mind; the angel never showed his true physical strength in public. 

“Any particular reason that struck a nerve?’ Crowley asked, quirking an eyebrow at the other man. Gabriel grimaced and chugged his beer, taking down the entire bottle in one go. He groaned and held his face in his hands.

“Let’s just say I apparently fucked up really, really badly in the eyes of God. Heaven is now under new management,” Gabriel said bitterly, moving his hands to grab his handkerchief and wipe his eyes. Crowley stared at him in disbelief.

“They demoted you? Why? Because we stopped Armaggedon?” Crowley asked, shocked. Sure, the Almighty could be unreasonable at times, but why would she strip Gabriel of his position when he did everything he could to stop them. Gabriel laughed, but it was humorless, and the end of it turned into a choked sob.

“Oh, they didn’t just demote me. I fell, Crowley. I’m a demon,” Gabriel said with a sarcastic grin, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m a demon. Yep! All because I didn’t fucking listen to you and Aziraphale. Apparently, you were right! The world ending now wasn’t part of the divine plan! But how the FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT WHEN YOU DON’ SAY SHIT?!” Gabriel screamed at the Heavens, shaking his fist up at the sky as tears began to roll down his face. Crowley grabbed Gabriel’s wrist, pulling him back down to earth and forcing him to look at, him. Gabriel’s eyes were beginning to turn a deep black, clouding over the whites of his eyes. He looked terrifying. 

“You’re drunk, Gabriel. You need to sober up or come with me, or something,” Crowley said desperately. He did not like the ang-demon, but he knew how painful it was to fall. He had experienced it. Gabriel wrenched away from Crowley, still crying. He left his bill and stormed out of the bar, blinded by tears and rage. Crowley paid quickly and ran after Gabriel, searching wildly for him in the bustling streets. He spotted the light gray scarf the demon was wearing and ran after him, yelling his name. Gabriel ignored him, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he walked right into the road, tears falling rapidly down his cheeks. Crowley grabbed him by the back of the shirt and dragged him out of the streets just as a car came barreling towards him, nearly hitting the demon and discorporating him.

“What in heaven’s name are you doing?” Crowley hissed, grabbing Gabriel by the shoulders. “You could have been killed! it takes a lot more effort to get a new body in hell than it does in Heaven, I can tell you that!” Crowley was starting to get annoyed with the freshly fallen demon. Yeah, he got the whole self-hating thing, but this was getting ridiculous. Gabriel stared blankly at him for a moment before looking at the road with longing. 

“Humans are so lucky, aren’t they?” Gabriel whispered. “When they die, that’s it. They go to Heaven or hell. We have to live, again, and again, and again. It never stops. There’s no way to escape it.” The demon was shaking again and his tears returned fiercely. Gabriel looked back at Crowley, his expression so filled with anguish, it made the demon’s heart stop. “I want to go home.” His voice broke and he dissolved into sobs, quickly covering his mouth with his hand as his shook, tears spilling rapidly and sobs making his shoulders jerk. Crowley’s eyes softened and he took Gabriel by the shoulders, heart aching when he flinched, and guiding him through the streets to Aziraphale’s bookshop.

“I’m bringing you to the bookshop tonight, but you can come to my flat after this any time you like. Hell can be pretty bleak,” Crowley said. Gabriel followed him but said nothing, and Crowley found himself rambling on about nothing and everything just to fill up the silence. Gabriel’s tears came to a stop and he slowly relaxed as he just listened to Crowley, leaning into him and bracing himself by putting an arm around his shoulders. Crowley found himself not really minding. Don’t worry, dear reader, Gabriel is far from being forgiven; Crowley was merely sympathetic to the demon’s situation. He knew what falling was like, and he knew what falling despite loving Heaven with everything you are was like. The odd pair soon reached Aziraphale’s bookshop and Crowley helped Gabriel up the stairs, guiding him in through the door and into the small parlor. He sat him down in his usual chair and miracled up a cup of tea.

“You…You said I could sober up. How do I do that?” Gabriel slurred. Crowley nearly forgot that Gabriel had never had alcohol before or any earthly things for that matter.

“Just concentrate and…squeeze? I don’t know how to describe it better, sorry,” Crowley said apologetically, handing Gabriel the cup of tea. The demon screwed up his face and did as Crowley instructed, and back in the pub, the bartender stared in amazement as thirty-something empty bottles and glasses filled back up to the brim with alcohol. Gabriel wrinkled his nose and smacked his mouth.

“Remind me to never get drunk again. Ever,” Gabriel muttered, rubbing his face and sighing deeply. Crowley’s lips quirked into a smile and he sat across from the other demon, watching him as he sipped his tea. Gabriel closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the beverage flood through him. His eyes suddenly snapped open and he groaned as if he’d just remembered something embarrassing. “Did I really try to get myself run over by a car and then get all emo about it?” Gabriel asked, grimacing. Crowley sighed and nodded. 

“It was…frightening, honestly. I’ve never seen you like that. I know it’s a dumb question, but…are you alright?” Crowley said gently. Gabriel pursed his lips and set down the cup of tea, folding his hands in his lap. After a moment, he responded.

“No. No, I don’t think I am,” Gabriel answered honestly, tapping his fingers against his legs. Crowley nodded in understanding. “I dedicated my entire existence to Heaven, and to serving Her. Now it’s gone; I don’t know what to do with myself. That was my one purpose. it was the only thing that made me worth something,” he continued softly, his gaze dropping to his feet. “I’m nothing without Heaven. Without Heaven, I’m just a big-headed, egotistical moron,” he spat, tone and words becoming more and more self-deprecating. Crowley frowned and went to respond when the door opened and Aziraphale stepped inside, carrying a bag of Chinese takeout and grinning from ear to ear. 

“I’m home dear! Did you miss- What the hell is he doing here?” Aziraphale’s bags fell to the floor and he glared at Gabriel. Crowley quickly stood and Gabriel curled further in on himself, hiding his face in shame. Crowley rested a hand on Aziraphale’s chest, looking him in the eye.

“Angel, sunshine, dearest, my love, listen to me,” Crowley said. Aziraphale scowled.

“No amount of flattery and cheesy nicknames is getting you out of this one, and you better believe it, Anthony Crowley! Now explain your…” Aziraphale’s voice suddenly trailed off and he looked at Gabriel with wide eyes. He sensed a different presence than usual, like when Gabriel had sensed evil in his shop when it was Crowley. He felt that, but more intensely, and he gasped. “Oh, you’ve fallen,” he said breathlessly, clasping his hands and wringing them, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and denial. “W-Why did you…?”

“You were right and I was wrong. God expected me to listen to you and I didn’t which went against Her Divine Plan, so I was cast out,” Gabriel said, answering the unspoken question. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he moved away from Crowley, hesitatingly standing in front of Gabriel. 

“You shouldn’t have fallen,” Aziraphale said softly. “I may not like you, and your methods were very unethical, but…it was all for Heaven. You were so dedicated-”

“I know, Aziraphale. Please, I know you’re trying to be kind, but you’re rubbing salt in the wound,” Gabriel pleaded, looking up at Aziraphale with a desperate look in his eyes. Aziraphale murmured a hushed apology and sat down. Crowley got a third chair and sat next to him. The two of them stared at Gabriel, the tension in the air thick enough to be cut with a knife. “I should be going. I’ve intruded on your hospitality long enough. Thank you for the tea, I’ll let the two of you get on with your night,” Gabriel said, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of thanks and standing, getting ready to go out the door.

“You will do no such thing!” Aziraphale said, voice scolding as he stood as well and blocked Gabriel’s way to the door. Gabriel sighed. 

“Aziraphale, this really isn’t-”

“Not none more word out of you,” Crowley chimed in, getting up and joining Aziraphale’s side. “You’re staying here, at least for the night. You’re in no state to be going out in the streets of London alone,” he continued in a matter-of-fact tone. Gabriel’s nostrils flared. 

“Says who?!” 

“Says common sense! I found you drunk on Vodka and beer and then you tried to kill yourself!” Crowley replied, tone harsh but not angry. Aziraphale gasped. 

“He what?!” 

“Yeah! He tried to run in front of a moving car! I’m sorry Gabriel, but we are not leaving you alone right now. You’re staying here, and that’s final,” Crowley said firmly. Gabriel grimaced. 

“You two are the last people who should even be thinking about helping me,” Gabriel said solemnly, attempting to push past the two of them again. Aziraphale grabbed him by the shoulders and looked at him pointedly.

“If you’re acting this way because you believe you do not deserve our forgiveness, then you are wrong,” Aziraphale said firmly, taking both Gabriel and Crowley by surprise. “Everyone is forgivable, even a demon, and I’ve had worse things said and done to me by the human race than things you’ve said, and I love people with all my heart. You, Gabriel, are no different. That doesn’t mean I like you, but I don’t have to like you to forgive you or help you when you’re hurting. Do you understand?” Gabriel blinked back tears and nodded, his head hanging low in shame. Aziraphale softened and put his arm around Gabriel’s shoulders, leading him up the stairs. “Why don’t you get some sleep? Don’t worry, I can show you how; Crowley helped me learn. It’s a human thing but it’s very pleasant, and when you feel sad like this it’s a good distraction.” Crowley listened to his angel explaining what sleep was with a smile before returning to his seat, removing his glasses and setting them down on the table.

Crowley rarely talked to God. He thought it was meaningless and stupid; she wasn’t listening anyway, so nothing would come of it. He found it comforting, however, to occasionally voice his doubts and concerns to the Heavens. She cared once, and Crowley would pretend that she cared again until the day he died. 

“I understand you want to keep your ranks pure, but this is ridiculous. He was doing what he thought was best for Heaven. Why would you make him fall?” Crowley muttered, more to himself than actually to God. “He loves Heaven. He loves You, even now after you’ve forsaken him. He wants to go home. why can’t you just let him go home?” Crowley drifted off to sleep in his chair with a trace of bitterness in his heart, curled up into a ball and muttering about how unfair it all was.

The next morning, Crowley was shaken out of his slumber by a loud scream coming from the bedroom upstairs. Thinking it was Aziraphale, he jumped to his feet and bolted up the stairs. However, he bumped into the aforementioned angel in the hallway, who was blearily stumbling towards the spare room. They exchanged a glance before rushing into the room Gabriel was in, bracing themselves for what they would find inside. Gabriel was standing in the middle of the room, thankfully fully clothed, but mouth agape. His wings were extended to their full glory, lush and white and as Heavenly as the stars in the sky. His clothes had returned from grey to their normal white. 

“Which one of you did this?!” Gabriel demanded tearfully, pointing an accusatory finger at the two of them. “This isn’t funny! How could you do this? You know I-”

“We didn’t do this, calm down!” Crowley snapped, cutting the ranting man off. Gabriel pursed his lips and folded his arms stiffly. Aziraphale gazed at his wings in wonder, a thoughtful expression on his face as he looked Gabriel up and down. 

“I no longer sense another Fallen presence. Gabriel, have you…was your fall reversed by the Almighty? I only sense holiness from you.” Gabriel shook his head, his hands beginning to shake. 

“That’s impossible. Unless I was prayed for and the Almighty listened, which I doubt was the case, I am still a demon,” Gabriel replied. Crowley scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I…uh…may have said a tiny little prayer. Last night, after Aziraphale took you up to the bed, I had a little heart to heart with God. I don’t know why she would choose to listen now,” Crowley admitted. Gabriel blinked and then looked at his wings. His face flushed and Aziraphale could sense a rush of joy that flooded the entire room, so strong it nearly knocked him off his feet. 

“Oh my God,” Gabriel said breathlessly, his eyes wide as he ran a hand over his soft, white feathers. “Oh my God, She…She actually…holy shit!” Gabriel exclaimed, shock giving way to a bright grin and shining purple eyes. There was no black, no demonic eyes staring back at Aziraphale and Crowley. 

“What are we waiting for then? You need to get back to Heaven!” Crowley said, clapping Gabriel on the back with a grin of his own on his face, feeling a twinge of jealousy but quickly shoving it down. Gabriel nodded vigorously. “We’ll take the Bentley. It’ll get is there faster than walking!”

And fast that car went indeed. Aziraphale couldn’t recall a time Crowley had driven as fast as he had that day. He drove like a maniac, like a…well, like a demon. They had reached the main entrance to heaven in no time, and Gabriel was practically vibrating with excitement as he jumped out of the car. Crowley and Aziraphale joined him, having to run after him as he went up the escalator steps two at a time. By the time Aziraphale and Crowley had caught up to Gabriel, he had skidded to a stop in the middle of Heaven, eyes wide as he stared at the other archangels. They hadn’t noticed him yet, talking quietly among themselves, each of them wearing a grave expression. Nervous and excited at the same time, Gabriel clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat dramatically. All three of the archangels whipped their heads up to look at Gabriel, mouths hanging open in surprise. 

“Gabriel!” Michael shouted joyously, flinging her arms around the restored archangel and crying on his neck. Gabriel held Michael in his arms, picking her up and spinning as tears of joy ran down his face. Sandalphon and Uriel practically tackled their friend with pure joy, hugging him tightly and laughing through their tears. Michael and Gabriel shared a kiss as tears rolled down their cheeks, holding one another and crying together.

“How is this possible? A fall is permanent! You…You shouldn’t be back,” Uriel stammered, clinging to Gabriel’s arm, their eyes wide. Gabriel smiled and looked at Crowley and Aziraphale brightly. 

“Well, I wasn’t alone. I had some help.” The three other archangels stared at Aziraphale and Crowley with disbelief, until Michael broke away, tears still falling down steadily. She took both of Crowley’s hands in hers. 

“Thank you for bringing him home to us. Thank you so much,” she said through sobs, kissing Crowley on both cheeks before doing the same to Aziraphale. She lingered there for a moment though, and Aziraphale wrapped his arms around her in an embrace. When they pulled away she was smiling brighter than Aziraphale had ever seen her smile before. She joined Gabriel at his side once more, grabbing his hand and leaning into his side. 

“He didn’t deserve to fall. We both knew that. We’re just happy he can return to his true calling,” Aziraphale said with a soft smile. Gabriel’s eyes were soft and kind as he looked at the couple. 

“If either of you ever needs anything, you can always consider Heaven an ally. We will be here if you ever need us,” Sandalphon said, grinning with his crooked teeth and dimples. Aziraphale and Crowley both nodded. Gabriel gave Michael’s hand a squeeze before going to the two of them, eyes flitting nervously.

“You didn’t have to help me, and that makes your actions even more commendable. I’ll never be able to repay you,” Gabriel said, placing a hand on Crowley’s shoulder and clasping one of Aziraphale’s hands in his own.

“Oh, come here you big sap,” Aziraphale teased, pulling Gabriel forward by his hand and trapping him in a hug. Crowley smirked at the surprised grunt that left the angel and decided to join the hug. It was brief, but all three entities pulled away smiling. “You do a good job up here, you hear?” Aziraphale said, wagging a finger at the archangel. Gabriel laughed, his eyes sparkling, and nodded. 

“Yes sir, I promise. You two do a good job on earth,” Gabriel replied. More embraces were exchanged, and tearful thanks from each of the archangels were brushed aside by modesty. And with that, they parted ways. Gabriel returned to Heaven, once again in the company of angels and friends and a lover, and Aziraphale and Crowley returned back to their earth, to their bookshops and their vintage cars and Queen. 

[gryndboxstudios]

Artist Profile: Boton de Rosa

I have been following Boton de Rosa, (or Mirsa, as I know her) since we were both in high school and I can say with confidence, she is one of the most talented artists I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. Seeing the evolution of her art has been awe-inspiring, and I have no doubts that we’ll be seeing her art everywhere in a matter of time. I had the pleasure of asking her a couple of questions as part of our first ever artist profile!

First off, do you prefer Boton de Rosa or Mirsa? Where’d you come up with that name?

I like Boton de Rosa! It’s a nickname my mom gave to me when I was little, it’s Spanish for “rose button”.

I know you’ve been drawing since before I met you in high school, did you ever see yourself making prints, stickers, commissions, etc. Did you see yourself becoming a professional illustrator?

To be honest, I saw myself being a zoologist or something in the veterinary field when I was in high school. I completely put the idea of ever being a professional illustrator aside. I knew I was a decent artist, and most of my friends encouraged me to do something in the animation field or have a career with art. I just didn’t think of that as a possibility. When I took my gap semester in between high school and college, I started to reevaluate what I wanted, and since I wanted to go through a technical college instead of an actual university, I looked at their course curriculums to see what they had to offer. Digital media was the closest thing to anything I like, so I took that route. Best decision I ever made. It was until I moved to Brownsville that I actually started to get a small following, and my partner at the time was very pushy about “getting me out there”.

Would you say you have any overall themes in your art, any parts of yourself you like to put in your pieces?

I think a lot of my pieces just reflect emotion. For the most part, I tend to create bigger, significant pieces when an emotionally important part of my life has occurred. Theres a few undertones of heartbreak, betrayal, things like that.

What artists inspire you or taught you how to be better?

I started following Audra Auclair a couple of years ago, she’s one of my biggest influences. She is actually one of the main artists that got me into doing this again. Corpsetits is also amazing, Matt Bailey, Alex Pardee. I’ve been following him ever since he did an album cover for The Used, the bright colors and the grotesque. I live for it haha. Gabriel Picolo is also someone I started following more recently.

How has the criticism you gave yourself when you started different from the criticism you give yourself now?

I’m always criticizing myself, but I will say it’s gone down quite a bit. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I’m a lot happier with where I am now compared to where I was three years ago. I can see that reflected a lot in my art, I do always push myself to do better.

Are you happy with your art? Are there older pieces you wish you did better?

So far, yes! To be honest, I am very much a people-pleaser. As much as I do this for myself, just the feedback I get is more than enough. And yes, there’s a Bee and Puppycat fanart sitting on my old laptop I want to redo completely. Plus a million other sketches I have in my old sketchbook, all in due time haha.

What do you think about people buying your art? Would you buy your art?

It blows my mind! It makes me so, so happy, I put a lot of love in my work, so it means the world to me. I think I would, I always try to draw things that I would like to have. Not gonna lie, I have three of my stickers on my car and a few others in miscellaneous places.

What frustrates you while drawing?

As I mentioned before, I tend to draw some pieces when I’m in a certain emotional point in my life. Sometimes I run out of that “juice” and I have things sitting on my mac for weeks. I have a piece I haven’t been able to finish for the past month, I just haven’t found myself in that mindset anymore. I’m also somewhat of a procrastinator, so that always sabotages me in the worst of ways.

How often do you draw, be it doodles or projects?

Multiple times a day, I have a scratchpad full of doodles in the office where I work. Plus sketchpads scattered across my apartment and in my car for whenever I get some inspiration.

Would you ever consider any other mediums?

I really would like to! I’ve always wanted to have an anime series or something of the sort. When I lived in the valley I started writing rough drafts of a zombie apocalypse short called “Maya-Pocalypse”. Basically, it would be a small dog (inspired by my own Maya) surviving the zombie apocalypse and trying to find her way back to her owner. It was great, but I never set time aside to do research on how to animate or maybe have it set into a comic.

What are some of your other hobbies?

I love to take my dogs out on hikes, write poetry, play ukulele (albeit badly), and occasionally play video games.

When do you know when a piece is finished? 

I don’t think I’m ever finished, haha. Even when I send something out to print, I sometimes add little details here and there. There’s always something changing.

I know you do both traditional and digital, what’s your setup for digital look like?

Digital art consists of my iPad Pro, Apple pencil, my Mac and the magic mouse. I use Procreate and Illustrator Draw on my iPad, which is really useful. I really recommend the iPad Pro, it lets me start off a drawing in the app, then I can transfer it over via the creative cloud and I can finish it up on my mac.

Where do you start when starting a piece?

The eyes, eyebrows and eyes help me set the tone to what I’m drawing.

Where can you see your art going?

I’m hoping to get it on an album cover someday, or even on a movie poster.

What are you working on now? Any big plans for your art, have you considered entering shows?

Yes, I’ve been invited to do two shows, one in February and another in March, so I’m hoping to have something really neat ready for those two. I want to sell my work at a vendor spot sometime this year. Just to be able to get over my shyness and talk to people and sell them my art would be cool.

That’s about all the questions I have for you, anything else you’d like to add?

I would like to say that no matter how many times you get stuck, don’t ever stop! We all have our own creative processes and just take a little while to get where we need to be. Trust yourself and just keep going!

You can follow Mirsa on Instagram to keep up with her art here! Follow Gryndbox Studios as well for cool shit here and there! IG TWITTER

[caitspodcastlist]

Other

99% Invisible

99percentinvisible.org

From Radiotopia

Caitlin's rating: 5/5

"99% Invisible is about all the thought that goes into the things we don’t think about — the unnoticed architecture and design that shape our world." -99% Invisible website

Aside from Phoebe Judge, Roman Mars is probably my favorite podcast host. He is so talented, and 99% Invisible tells so many interesting stories that as soon as I listened to my first episode (Squatters of the Lower East Side), I was hooked. There are so many things around us that we neglect to notice, and Roman Mars gives us all a chance to learn more about our surroundings. This podcast helps you stop and smell the proverbial flowers. Favorites of mine:

The Trials of Dan and Dave (57:01) - In 1992, Reebok had an ad campaign with two decathalon athletes. Super interesting. I've asked several people if they remember it (not old enough myself) and most of them say yes, so it's amazing to see how much of a lasting effect this ad campaign had. The power of advertising! This is a 99% invisible/ESPN 30 for 30 episode.

The Pool and the Stream (34:46) - Swimming pools changed skateboarding.

In the Same Ballpark (29:34) – The evolution of baseball parks in America. I love love love this episode.

Squatters of the Lower East Side (30:32) - People were illegally living in NYC and eventually came to own the places they were staying in basically by relentlessly defending their residence. POSSESSION IS 9/10 OF THE LAW.

Curious City

wbez.org/shows/curious-city

From WBEZ Chicago

Caitlin's rating: 3/5

"[Curious City's] mission is to include the public in editorial decision-making, make journalism more transparent and strengthen multimedia coverage about Chicago, the surrounding region and its people (past or present)." -WBEZ website

Again, a hit or miss for me, probably because I don't live in Chicago. Listeners send in their questions about Chicago (e.g. Where does all the poop go?), and Curious City answers them.

What Happens to the Lincoln Park Zoo Animals in the Winter? (5:39)

Chicago Bathhouses: More Than a Century of Sanitation, Sex, and Sweat (13:37)

What Happens to "Number 2" in the Second City? (9:03)

A Lot You Got to Holler

design.newcity.com/a-lot-you-got-to-holler-podcast

From Newcity Design

Caitlin's rating: ??

"The podcast explores Chicago’s singular history of architecture, design and urbanism, with an emphasis on pop culture." -Newcity Design website

To be honest, I never listened to this one, but it's on my list because it sounds like a Chicago version of 99% Invisible.

Love and Radio

loveandradio.org

From Radiotopia

Caitlin's rating: 3/5

"Love and Radio features in-depth, otherworldly-produced interviews with an eclectic range of subjects, from the seedy to the sublime. You’ve never heard anything like it before. New installments are added monthly." -Love and Radio website

Love and Radio is interesting because there's very limited narration. The story starts, and you basically have to figure it out as it goes on. I've liked the episodes I've heard, but it hasn't hooked me like some of the other shows. Recommendation:

Relevant Questions (46:05) - Polygraph expert helps people cheat the system. This is the same guy who is in the polygraph episode of This American Life mentioned above, but not the same broadcast.

Snakes!!!!!!!! (33:48) - Guy self-immunizes with snake venom.

A Girl of Ivory (42:16) - Polyamorous relationship with an unexpected twist.

Part Time Genius

parttimegenius.show

From How Stuff Works

Caitlin's rating: 3/5

"Every episode packs incredible research, fun-filled quizzes, nerdy interviews and a giant, head-scratching question into one superfun show." - Part Time Genius website

I don't particularly like the humor in this show, but it does have some interesting fun facts, and I definitely learned something new every time I listened. Recommendations:

Was Mr. Rogers the Best Neighbor Ever? (41:52) - BRB sobbing

What are the Greatest Things We Just Learned about Japan? (40:41) - OMG at the baseball story. That cracked me up.

How Did Putin Come to Power? (42:32) - Between this and watching Icarus, Putin terrifies me.

Is Recycling Worth the Hassle? (47:11) - Shoutout to this episode for putting me on even more of an environmentalism kick. I am especially trying to reuse plastic grocery bags now and, sadly, throwing them in the trash whenever they've finished their purpose.

What Are the Most Surprising Jobs at the White House? (43:39) - I already knew some of this thanks to Veep. :) But it was still good.

Science Vs

gimletmedia.com/science-vs

From Gimlet

Caitlin's rating: 5/5

"Science Vs takes on fads, trends, and the opinionated mob to find out what’s fact, what’s not, and what’s somewhere in between." -Gimlet website

I LOVE Science Vs! Another show with an Aussie host, this show is pleasant to listen to and always helps me learn more. Wendy interviews doctors, scientists, and other experts to back up her material. They break down the science-based evidence in a way that any audience can understand without being condescending. Favorites:

Opioids: How America Got Hooked (45:56) - Did you know that in 2016, opioids killed more people in America than AIDS did in its most dangerous year?!

The Bee-pocalypse (31:44) - Bees are dying, and you should care.

Vaccines - Are They Safe? (35:09) - Short answer: Yes.

The Rise of Anti-Vaxxers (32:24) - My eyes are rolled all the way back into my head right now.

Abortion: What You Need to Know (46:07) - Understanding the process is important, in my opinion, especially in this political climate. Don't make claims for one side or the other until you know the facts of how it works!

Strangers

storycentral.org/strangers

Formerly from Radiotopia, but now from Story Central

Caitlin's rating: 5/5

"Each episode is an empathy shot in your arm, featuring true stories about the people we meet, the connections we make, the heartbreaks we suffer, the kindnesses we encounter, and those frightful moments when we discover that WE aren’t even who we thought we were." -Story Central website

Strangers is so fascinating to me. It tells the stories of people. Usually they're stories that I can't relate to, but the people in these stories still have the same feelings that we all experience, so the stories aren't irrelevant. They're funny, they're said, they made me angry. Any time of show that evokes this type of emotion is a winner in my book. Lea's voice is soothing in the same way that Phoebe Judge's is. She talks about her personal life some, and I know that's appealing to some listeners. Personally, I'm more "Get to the story!" but that's okay. The wait is worth it. Favorites:

Franky Carillo - Life (34:39) and Franky Carillo - Life Now (29:35) - Guy serves 20 years in prison for a crime he didn't commit.

Kugel vs Khaled (37:52) - Alaa Khaled aka Alec Ledd talks about how he had to change his name to hide his ethnicity and break into acting.

Claire Obscure (57:31) -

Twelve Years On (33:44) - A refugee Somali family moves to a white neighborhood in Vermont

Eleven Up (1:07:51) - A family adopts children from another family, and then the families make plans to move in together.

The Truth (50:03) - A family divides when a member gets accused of the worst thing possible

Lex (35:06) - What do you do when you think your child is capable of being violent?

Claire Obscure (57:31) - Girl grows up with very abusive family, changes her identity so that her dad never finds her. Super intense.

The Son, The Goddess, and Leopoldo (47:37) - Guy is born into a lesbian witch coven, lives in communes with his mother, and eventually becomes an attorney.

Spooked

spookedpodcast.org

From WNYC Studios and Snap Judgement

Caitlin's rating: 4/5

"True-life supernatural stories, told first-hand by people who can barely believe it happened themselves." - Snap Judgement website

Whether you believe this kind of stuff or not, the stories are interesting and creepy. As a huge Stephen King fan, this appealed to me. The narrator, Glynn Washington, is amazing. He also hosts a show about Heavens Gate, which I tried to listen to, but it gave me nightmares about the cult I used to be in. Womp womp. Anyway, here are my favorite Spooked episodes:

Spooked: A Friend in the Forest (29:56) - Weird appearance of a boy who was supposed to be dead. Narrator is Irish.

Spooked: Lost in Time (36:37) - Two people walk into a bar that time warps.

Spooked: Final Act (35:26) - An EMT gets lost and someone who is supposedly dead helps her.

Wait Wait . . . Don't Tell Me!

npr.org/programs/wait-wait-dont-tell-me

From NPR

Caitlin's rating: 3/5

"NPR's weekly current events quiz. Have a laugh and test your news knowledge while figuring out what's real and what we've made up." -NPR website This one's okay. I subscribed to it so that I could prep for bar trivia (don't judge). I like that they have celebrity guests on the show. The newest episode has LeVar Burton (9:44), and I am stoked to listen to that! Bradley Whitford's episode was good, too. He's so problematic for me because I love him in West Wing, but I hate him in Get Out. Such a skilled actor.

[lexicalbehemoth]

home is where love is

Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett Rating: General Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Developing Relationship, Post-Apocalypse, One Shot, Character Study

Summary:

After the Armageddon-That-Wasn't, Aziraphale and Crowley have a talk about the future, and Aziraphale confesses to some truths.

[ Read on AO3 ]

Aziraphale, for all that he never fails to remind that he’s of angel stock, knows Heaven isn’t where home is. This is, of course, after spending a couple millennia with humanity; it’s inevitable, isn’t it, to change? Perhaps it’s true that he’s gone native, even though it was something that had been said to him while in Crowley’s form. Perhaps he’s changed for the better (or the worst, depending on who’s asking), though it doesn’t change what he is at his core. He’s still an angel, wings and grace and all, even though his superiors are unsure after his little (or as much as one can call deceiving his superiors and letting a demon into Heaven little ) stunt.

But one gets an inkling, after a while, when one is with humanity often. When one grows to watch over them, to be with them, to try and be like them- one learns that the world and all Her creations are not so black and white as Heaven and Hell make it out to be. Home, for one, no longer means his place of origin.

Home is where he feels safest, if he abides by humanity’s varied definitions of home. Home is walking through St. James’ Park and finding his counterpart waiting for him, a story or two in mind to share of the latest thing humanity has done, be they foolish or remarkable. Home is letting Crowley tempt him to a spot of lunch down at the Ritz, miracling up a reservation for two because it’s his turn for a treat. It’s only fair, after all, as Crowley is often the one to do the treating- which is, in truth, something of his own influence.

Crowley does so like to say that he’s the one doing the tempting around his angel, but Aziraphale knows better.

(He wonders if Crowley knows it, and just lets him get away with it?)

“Did it give any other hints before the final prophecy, that book?”

Aziraphale blinks purposefully- it’s not as though he actually needs to blink, despite the human appearance of his form. He clarifies, “The Nice and Accurate-”

Crowley waves a hand. A server comes as though summoned, swiftly filling up his then-empty wine glass. “Yes, that. Or was it up until the Armageddon’t? Don’t suppose there was a sequel for that?”

He smiles in amusement, patting at his mouth with his napkin. It’s been a bit of a thing with him, lately, coming up with names for the Armageddon-that-wasn’t. He answers, “If there were, I wouldn’t know. The only one mentioned in existence was The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch, and even then, it was difficult to find; it’s no wonder we only came across it because of her descendant. Were you thinking that there would be something there, for the events after the Armageddon-that-wasn’t?”

Crowley hums that little unsure hum he does whenever he wants to say something, but is finding it difficult to do so. “Maybe. Wouldn’t put it past her, seeing as she was able to prophesize that last bit we did.”

“Perhaps it was more a hint, my dear? There being free will and all.”

Crowley perks up at his words mid-drink from his glass, a pleased smile growing on his face as he sets his wine aside. Aziraphale supposes it’s a testament to all their time spent together that he’s able to categorize this look, as it were, among Crowley’s other expressions- and even call it a smile, having realized that it’s the closest approximate term versus a smirk. Crowley says, sounding both unreasonably proud and sarcastic, “Why angel, are you implying that even occult and ethereal beings could have their free will to take action, without it being detailed by The Great Plan?”

Aziraphale lets the server that passes their table fill up his wine glass once more, giving him a smile of thanks. Then he takes a drink, deliberately letting Crowley wait, before putting down his glass and saying, “Well, it’s not that much of an impossibility, is it? I’m here with you, after all.”

Crowley hums, not saying anything more.

“An angel and a demon eating together, regarding each other as best friends,” Aziraphale goes on, smiling pleasantly despite the tiny, disgruntled noise Crowley makes for a flash of a second. “I wouldn’t think it was in the regulations for either of our previous sides to befriend someone from the other side.”

“Previous, huh,” Crowley says, swirling his wine a little, looking away from him. “I’d have believed myself saying that, but I didn’t think we’d reach a point where you’d agree. You’re particularly stubborn, for an angel. Or should I say,” he turns to Aziraphale, smirking, “as expected of an angel?”

“Well, it’s true that this is our side, isn’t it? Earth and its creatures,” Aziraphale replies, before taking a slow drink from his own glass of wine. “You and I, together. The End That Wasn’t certainly proved its point about the demarcations going beyond my side and yours.”

Crowley gives him a Look. Aziraphale doesn’t have to see behind his sunglasses to know, because the mere turn of Crowley’s head, the way he tilts his chin to him, is familiar enough. Crowley says, “I’m surprised it only took you six millennia to reach that conclusion.”

Aziraphale huffs at the teasing. “Really now, my dear…”

Crowley chuckles, shaking his head. He finishes off his glass of wine, before saying, “I’ve been telling you that since before the End Times That Weren’t, angel. I’ve been giving you question upon question on that blasted Ineffable plan, and neither of us have ever reached any absolute answers- even your answers to me were vague and half-baked at best. Don’t even try denying it.”

“I,” he begins, intending to argue, before sighing and shaking his head. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

Crowley tips his glass to him, before taking another drink. Once done, he says, “What now, then? Any plans for the unknown future?”

He hums, pressing his lips together in thought, as he’s sure he often does. Crowley would probably know- he sees Aziraphale’s face more often than Aziraphale sees his own. He answers, “Not entirely sure, really. I suppose we’ll just have to see what the future holds for us.”

Crowley looks away from him, face turned to his empty glass of wine. Likely, he’s thinking it’ll hide the growing smile on his face when he’s not looking towards Aziraphale, but it doesn’t, not really. Aziraphale, for all that he knows he comes off oblivious to Crowley with certain matters, is a bit more observant than Crowley likely thinks him to be. It’s just easiest, is all, to play at a certain kind of ignorance when it benefits him.

He’s said he’s soft, but Crowley?

Crowley is even softer, though he manages to pass as tough to anyone else who doesn’t know him well.

Innocently, Aziraphale says, “That is fine, isn’t it?”

“What’s fine?”

“I assumed we’d be doing less of that thing we do, where we coincidentally meet in places,” Aziraphale explains, setting aside his own empty glass of wine. “And, instead, meet up because we can. With Heaven and Hell letting us off for now, as it were, I feel we can afford to chat without the ruse of being adversaries, thwarting each other for the end times at hand…or not in hand, as it so happens.”

Aziraphale has a feeling Crowley is blinking at him behind his sunglasses, and he smiles.

“I…huh?”

“We could have that picnic,” he offers, reminded of his promises from before everything, before the Not-A-pocalypse, and before the dinners at the Ritz. “We’ve already dined at the Ritz a number of times, haven’t we? But I don’t recall us having done that picnic…though I suppose that may be because it’s easiest to just let other people prepare our food for us. Do you suppose it’s proper to buy food from restaurants and take them out for a picnic instead of dining the usual way? One usually expects to prepare one’s own food for this, if I recall correctly…”

“Wait, wait,” Crowley says, waving a hand as though telling him to pause, which he does. “Wait, angel. A picnic?”

Aziraphale smiles brightly at him. “Why, yes, a picnic. I recall I suggested it, along with dinners at the Ritz, some years ago.”

“ You go too fast for me, Crowley. ”

There’s a lull in their conversation for a moment.

Aziraphale watches as Crowley swallows- more for the human meaning it implies, than an actual need for it. Even though Aziraphale can’t see his eyes, he can see the hard way his lips are pressing together, chin jutting out, eyebrows furrowing, hand clenching on the table.

Oh, he owes Crowley so much more than a picnic, doesn’t he? It’s only fair, just from the look of him.

“I’d apologize for making you wait for so long,” he begins, hands clasped over his own lap, head turned to him. “But I’m sure I could do better than an apology, my dear. Humans say such a thing, don’t they? Actions speak louder than words.”

“Ngk,” says Crowley.

Aziraphale’s gaze goes soft, soft, soft at the way Crowley is gawping at him. Oh, how patient has he been, to be caught off guard by this? It’s like he hadn’t expected Aziraphale to catch up with him at all- which is a fair judgment, given how stubborn he can be, but still.

“Dearest,” he says, reaching out, wrapping a gentle hand over the nearest hand Crowley has on the table. “I’ve got one more favour to ask of you, if that’s alright?”

“A favour,” Crowley croaks out, as though he’d intended for it to be a question but failed to do so out of shock.

“I’d like a little more of your patience,” he says, thumb stroking over the back of Crowley’s hand. Crowley has lowered his head now, staring at their hands together, and Aziraphale can’t help a smile. He goes on, “Because there’s a lot I ought to catch up on with you, I’m sure. You’ve got…well, six millennia over me, isn’t that right?”

“Didn’t think you’d notice that,” Crowley mumbles, still staring at their hands. “Given how you could notice how loved Tadfield was, and not…”

“Hard to notice something that’s always there, isn’t it?”

Crowley frowns in that way he does when he thinks Aziraphale is being unreasonable, but also, “why do I find myself liking you anyway?” He says, “So…you’ve been able to feel it, all this time. And you never said anything?”

Aziraphale gives a tiny shrug of his shoulders, gaze turning to the side for a bit, before turning to their hands. Sotto voce, he says, “I wasn’t ready to confront it, then. I knew you wouldn’t push either, and…I suppose it’s a flaw of mine, to have abused your patience as I have.”

“Even ethereal beings can be imperfect,” Crowley says dryly, teasing. He turns his hand, palm upwards, curling his fingers into the spaces between Aziraphale’s own. “Though, I shouldn’t be surprised about that. We’re of the same stock, even if I am fallen.”

Aziraphale smiles fondly at him. “Thinking about it that way, I’d say you’re kinder than most angels would be.”

Crowley sighs, less motivated as is in defending his status as a demon. Perhaps that’s what happens, when you actively go against your employer by way of impersonation and utter deception. He says, “It’s a major flaw of mine, I know. Doesn’t make me a very good- terrible?- demon.”

“It’s what makes you so easy to love, really.”

It’s a pity that Crowley had finished his wine already; it would have likely been a memorable scene had Crowley gone for a drink and coughed the way he just did at Aziraphale’s words.

“You could warn a demon,” Crowley says, looking entirely like he doesn’t know what to do with his face. Is he happy? Embarrassed? Annoyed? Or perhaps all of the above, going by the way he’s struggling against a smile on his lips. “What would your employers say, angel? Consorting with a demon like myself.”

“Oh, I think they’ve known for a while,” he hums. “What was it that Uriel called you? My boyfriend?”

Crowley’s expression does another, dare he say it, Ineffable Thing. He says, “Your what .”

Aziraphale laughs.

“A bit juvenile, if I do say so myself,” he says lightly, rubbing his thumb over Crowley’s own. “But I think, given the stunt we pulled, that they’ll leave us alone for now.”

“No, go back to that boyfriend bit-”

“I think we’re quite done with lunch, don’t you? I’ll call for a server.”

“ Angel. ”

[sanubisfanfic-blog]

Melting Magnets: a Sanubis Fic

One of my old Sanubis fics. Enjoy!

WARNING: Non-descriptive mentions of sex. Brief adult language. Rated high T.

Sadie knew she should have been a smidge more careful with the mission, but honestly, it wasn't like she was trying to release a horde of demons into the Met and collapse from straining her magic. She wasn't sure why Anubis was making such a big deal out of it.

"I'm making a big deal out of it because you were an inch away from dying," he hissed, his gorgeous coffee-colored eyes alight with anger. Really, it wasn't fair that he looked so attractive, even while yelling at her. When she found him in her room so late at night, she hoped he had a different sort of passionate encounter on his mind, but that clearly wasn't going to happen any time soon. "Did you even take a second to consider the consequences of the spell?"

"Alright, I thought you promised to cut the bloody mind-reading shit," she snapped back, crossing her arms over her chest. "And what was I supposed to do; let the demons wreak havoc on the rest of Brooklyn? You know I couldn't let that happen."

"I thought you promised to stop being so reckless with your life. You could have let Carter, or Zia, or literally anyone else who was there help you take care of the problem!"

"I know my limits," she shouted, her sapphire eyes glittering dangerously. "I've used ha-di a thousand times! I only passed out for a minute!"

"You've never used it on this large a scale!" Anubis spread his hands wide, clearly getting more and more frustrated. "One of the reasons your father allowed me to stay here with you was so that I could keep you safe. How am I supposed to do that if you keep throwing yourself in the path of danger? I shouldn't have to keep checking the faces of the souls lining up for judgment every time I have to go to the Duat, hoping that you're not one of them!"

"Look, Death Boy, I'm seventeen; I'm not a child anymore! And you're my boyfriend, not my babysitter!"

"Sadie, as much as I wish you weren't, you are still mortal. Every time you over-extend your powers, you come close to death. I cannot watch you kill yourself out of sheer stupidity!" He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair, sighing in frustration. "I'm needed back at the Hall of Judgment. I trust you can manage to not die in the time I'm gone."

She let out a gasp of indignation as he pushed the air in front of him, creating a doorway of darkness.

"Fuck you!" she shouted at his back as he stepped through the portal, angrily tugging at the red streak in her blonde hair. Then she turned and screamed into her pillow.

"Woah, someone had a rough night," Jaz joked as Sadie walked into the infirmary. Zia, bandaging a burn on one of the anklebiters, chuckled quietly before freeing her charge. "Let me get you an energy potion. How was he?"

Sadie supposed Jaz had the right to make assumptions. Her makeup was smudged, her hair was a tangled mess, and she probably looked like she didn't get any sleep the night before (which was true). She was lucky it was Saturday—she was definitely not in the mood to deal with Drew and the rest of the Plastic BAGs.

"Nothing happened," Sadie grumbled, accepting the potion Jaz handed to her. "We got into a bloody fight about the mission. I don't know why Anubis got so upset—I've had way closer calls before!"

Jaz looked up from putting gauze back on the infirmary shelf and quirked a perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow. Zia narrowed her amber eyes.

"Fine," Sadie sighed, sinking onto one of the infirmary beds. "I get it. He just doesn't want to see me hurt, blah, blah, blah. What should I do?"

"I would just apologize," Zia suggested, sitting down on the bed across from her. "If I'm being totally honest, you were a tiny bit reckless last night."

"Yeah, yeah, I should have let everyone help me instead of panicking," she said, crossing her arms. "No one realized how many demons there were at the museum. I thought I could handle it."

"Well, at least you realize what you did wrong," Jaz mentioned. "You and Anubis get into little fights all the time. Just handle it like the ones before."

"Yeah, but before, we would just make out before it got too intense," Sadie said, collapsing back onto the bed. "This is the first one where he actually left."

Zia sighed. "Look, the only experience I have in relationships is with your brother—"

"Which is why I don't exactly trust your judgment when it comes to romance."

"But anyone can see that you two have a huge, magnetic attraction," Zia continued. "I know I didn't approve of you and Anubis at the beginning, but he definitely cares for you. You've been together for four years. He won't be gone for long."

"Whenever he comes back from his hissy fit, just kiss and make up," Jaz maintained, flipping back her curly blonde ponytail and moving over to where Sadie was sitting. "Whenever Walt and I have a fight, we always try to get it out of the way as soon as possible."

"Alright, fine," Sadie reluctantly agreed, running her hand through her red-streaked hair. "I won't make any promises—I'm still pissed off about it. Now I'm going to go teach my divine words class on no sleep. This will be marvelous."

"As the closest thing we have to a doctor, I'm going to recommend you don't do any intense magic today," Jaz said, crossing her arms. "Just go get something to eat and take a nap—you need to restore your energy levels."

"I'll cover your class," Zia added, playing with a fire amulet around her neck.

"Thanks, you guys." Sadie chugged the rest of the energy potion. "I'll tell you how it goes."

"Oh, and Sadie?" Zia called after her. "You might want to clean yourself up a bit. It's hard to feel better when you, ah, don't look your best."

"And if everything does go well with Anubis tonight, remember to use protection!" Jas shouted after her.

Sadie flipped a certain finger at them before walking away. Honestly, she needed better friends.

She collapsed on her bed, still in her combat books, red tank, and black jeans from earlier, and groaned. It seemed that, as per usual, nothing in Brooklyn House would wait for her romantic issues to be resolved. After being quite rudely awakened from her nap by her brother, she was forced to answer the questions of some moronic old magicians in the First Nome, deal with what Felix aptly named an "Ice-pocalypse," reprimand Felix for using his powers in the dining room, apologize to Felix for making him sob, and confiscate one of Walt's lion amulets from the anklebiters. What's more, that bloody-minded Jackal Boy hadn't shown up since the fight, and she was getting more and more irritated by the minute.

Sadie was debating whether or not she was recovered enough to use ha-di on him when a knock sounded from her door. She muttered some choice words under her breath as she heaved herself up and stomped over to answer it.

"Carter, I swear to all the gods of Egypt, if those old gits have another question, I will—" She stopped abruptly when she realized it was not, in fact, her brother standing at the door.

Anubis stood in the hallway, looking as attractive as ever in his skinny black jeans, white T-shirt, and classic leather jacket. His hair was perfectly rumpled in his typical just-had-amazing-sex fashion, and he had a stupid little half-smirk on his gorgeous face.

"Lady Kane," he said, raising his eyebrow slightly.

"Oh, no," she huffed, narrowing her black-rimmed eyes. "You do not get to leave me in the middle of a fight, show up an entire twenty-four hours later unannounced, and go all Lady Kane on me, expecting me to drop my panties and forget everything."

He sighed through his nose, tilting his head to the side. "May I come in?"

Sadie crossed her arms over her chest. "What, so you can give me another lecture about being responsible? I get it, Death Boy. I wouldn't have used the spell if there wasn't another option, and if you think I'm just going to pretend that there was anything else I could have done—"

"By Osiris' Kingdom, you are so infuriating sometimes," he interrupted, sounding exasperated, before leaning in and locking their lips together, hard. She rolled her eyes and kissed back, tangling her hands in his hair and deepening the kiss. He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her towards him.

"Are you going to let me in now?" he asked after a few moments, his eyes smoldering.

"Oh, shut up," Sadie snapped, grabbing him by his jacket and pulling him into her room. She shoved off his jacket and resumed snogging him thoroughly, slipping her hands under his shirt, grazing her knuckles against his toned stomach and bringing him even closer to her.

He growled low in his throat. The next thing she knew, Anubis had lifted her up and pressed her against the wall by her bed. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he started kissing down her neck. She had almost forgotten how strong he was—being the god of funerals really gave him an unfair advantage. As she busied herself with undoing his belt, the way he pushed her shoulders back with his forearm as he grazed his hands across her chest was almost painful. Unwillingly, she let out a tiny gasp of discomfort.

Anubis pulled back, his eyes widening. His hair was now a tangled mess, and he looked a bit dazed. "Did I…Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine," Sadie muttered, glancing down and dropping her feet to the floor. "Just get back here."

He looked at her quietly for a moment, his head cocked to the side, before leaning back in with a decidedly gentler kiss. The clothing that separated them started to slowly came off until there were no barriers between them, and the sound of their heavy breathing blocked out all other noises.

When it was over, they lay tangled in the sheets of her bed, her bare back against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed a chaste kiss to her shoulder.

"I apologize for last night," Anubis said quietly, stroking her hair softly. "I… I wouldn't be able to bear it if anything happened to you. I overreacted, and I'm sorry for that."

"It's alright," she whispered, turning over to face him. "I overreacted as well. I'll attempt to be more careful."

He pressed another kiss to her forehead. "I trust your judgment. Until you get granted immortality, I will attempt to not panic."

Sadie snorted lightly and closed her eyes, snuggling closer into his warmth. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Jackal-Head. That's a while into the future."

"I know," he whispered softly, as her breathing mellowed out. "I love you."

"Mm-hmm," she said sleepily. He might have said something else, but she was already asleep.

[thezebitches-blog]

KornZombieMoment-pocalypse

Growing up, I had that rebel phase. It wasn’t even really a rebel phase, per se, but more of a “I enjoy rock” kinda phase. I got into Korn. I started out with Life is Peachy in 96, followed by Follow the Leader in 98. I enjoyed every album, and really “socked it to the man” by playing it at volume 100 in my tiny bedroom in my parents house.

Fast forward to now. I’m old, (okay, 32, but who’s counting) and I’ve got a family. I don’t get crazy anymore. Crazy for me is when I stay up past 10pm. Anyyyyyyways. One warm night in early 2016, I had a brilliant idea. I happened to see that Korn was doing a tour with Rob Zombie and In This Moment. And they were coming to a nearby hood. And tickets were within my broke ass budget.

Omg.

I threw the idea to my main squeeze, M-dawg and his man BFF, G-man (who happens to be H’s main squeeze from none other than Thezebitches). They loved it. I asked H, and she was in. Tickets were bought. Children were heaved onto other caregivers. Plans were made. It was on. On. Like. Donkey. Kong.

The concert was at a now defunct outdoor amphitheater about 2 hours away at a peak traffic time. The four of us (me, H, M-dawg and G-man) left about 5 hours before the concert, gleefully happy and listening to a custom playlist, hoping that with traffic, we would be somewhat on time. Nope. We weren’t.

After fighting what felt like every vehicle in the good ole’ US of A on the road in traffic, we stopped for some grub at the nearby Wendy’s. We ate excitedly, and headed towards the venue. Keep Wendy’s in mind. It plays a big role in the evening.

We get to the venue, and park in our “premiere” parking. Heading to the entrance we notice the longest lines. Ever. We had our blankets ready- this was an outdoor venue after all- and we wanted in. That’s when our bubble was first burst- the cranky security person yelled at us that no blankets were allowed. Fine. Be that way. After running back to the car to put the blankets away, we continued to wait. Standing in one of the lines, we happen to notice a line for specific car owners- if you showed your keys, you got in faster. Sa-weeeeet. It just so happened that H and G-man have the car they were looking for. Heading to that line, we didn’t even need to show the keys- we were frisked and let right in. Looking back, that probably should have been our first clue.

Upon entry, we heard In This Moment playing their first song. We hurriedly got two drinks each, and trekked to our grassy knoll and got good seats. It was awesome!! We were sitting (key word here- sitting) amongst fellow music lovers, we had our drinks, and we really enjoyed the set. Up next was Rob Zombie, and I decided in between sets I was going to use the restrooms.

I calmly walk up the little hill we were sitting on, alone, and go to the restroom. It was still daylight outside- about dusk. There was a line, so it took me about 20 minutes. I heard Rob Zombie start up, and I wasn’t too concerned. I, myself, am not a huge Zombie fan- I was there for Korn and In This Moment so I wasn’t too upset I was missing the first song. After washing my hands, I calmly left the restroom and went to head back to our spot.

Do any of you remember the Watts Riots? I was young, but I sure remember the chaos. After walking back to the grassy knoll, it looked like the Watts Riots. It was dark. People were everywhere. Chaos ensued. There were three mosh pits happening. I didn’t know where everyone was. I couldn’t believe my fucking eyes. What the hell?!

I walked to where I thought everyone was. I was wrong. Instead, I was being pushed around by a man, and the group of shall we say angry white men with grudges against anyone with a tan that was next to me had a reallllll problem with it. They pulled me into their circle, and let the man pushing me know that it was unacceptable to be pushing a lady. In so many words.

I thanked them, got lost some more, and finally, H called me. Neither one of us could see over the crowds. I kept telling her I was by the mosh pit, but we were at the WRONG mosh pit. I gave up and went to higher ground- I mean that’s what you’re supposed to do in a disaster situation, right?? I’ve watched enough Dual Survivor to take a shot at surviving.

M-dawg called me, located me, and then led me through the apocalypse to our spot, which was now being taken over by someone lighting a shirt on FIRE and swinging it over his head. At that point, I think we all realized that help wasn’t coming, and we were only halfway through Zombie. Good. Lord.

Korn can be summed up like this. People were pushing and stomping other people. H socked a dude in the face because of it. Moshing was happening in the most chaotic way. I was smashed into a railing. G-man and M-dawg got into a fistfight (the guy lost) which consisted of M-dawg holding a guy in a headlock, G-man had his leg immobilized, and H had ripped a piece of his sweaty shirt off and was slapping him in the face with it. I stomped someone’s body part whilst yelling “I. JUST. WANTED. TO. WATCH. KORN!!!!” Probably not my finest moment. There was so much beer drunk amongst H, M-dawg, and G-man because some sucker kept buying them drinks. I watched a dude grab a girls cell phone and throw it like he was a third baseman for the Dodgers into the crowd below, knocking someone in the head. SO. MUCH. FIRE. I honestly thought a huge brush fire was going to start. There was not a moment of peace. It was literally survive or be stomped. Where was security, you ask?

Good question.

We left early, mostly because physically we couldn’t handle it, and also because of the crowds swarming the exit. In the bathroom on the way out there was a poor girl with a gash across her face. Chaos. It was at the exit that we noticed security and police. Umm. Yes, Mr Officer. You are certainly most helpful yards away from the surging crowd of angst and fury.

Sitting in the parking lot, waiting for the crowd to leave, we assess the situation. G-man has a torn shirt, we all have various injuries, but we all made it out alive. After about 45 minutes of waiting, we left. I drove, M-dawg was next to me, H was behind him, and G-man was behind me.

Remember I told you to remember Wendy’s? That’s because what happened next was what I affectionately refer to as “The Wendy’s Incident”. Not too long into our drive, G-man thought he had to burp. I had already asked if he wanted me to stop, because I could tell he was feeling the effects of the free beer train he had earlier. He said no, so when he burped, it wasn’t a burp. Projectile vomit landed on me, landed on my seat, in my hair, and started rolling down my back. This wasn’t any vomit. No. It was partially digested Spicy Chicken Cesar Salad and lots, and lots of beer.

I immediately pull off the freeway, not giving a shit that we are in the shadiest of shady areas. I pull into a Sevvie, and buy cleaning products and Febreeze.

While my car is being cleaned, it turns out that the 7-11 guy called the cops on us, cuz you know, were suspicious. They roll up, saying “oh you’re pretty far from (insert my anonymous town name here)”. Uh. Yeah. So I saunter up, and being the sweet talker I am, reassure them that it’s just vomit being cleaned from my car so vigorously and not blood, I’m not dealing drugs or murdering my friends, and they slowly, slowly drive away.

We ended up home, much later than anticipated. A year later, we still aren’t over this experience.

Guess what? Korn is coming back this year.

[magnetothemagnificent]

I was in a mood, and decided to write some sweet South Downs Cottage fanfiction. In this story, Aziraphale is non-binary, going by they/them pronouns, and Crowley is gender-fluid, currently going by he/him pronouns. Enjoy!

Three years after the Not-pocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale get a knock at their cottage door. They weren't expecting visitors, especially not so late at night. Crowley opened the door to see a familiar face, one they had not seen in years. The face was tired and tear streaked, and looked up at Crowley with uncertain eyes.

"Nanny Ashteroth?"

It was then that Crowley noticed the worn-out clothes, and the heavy backpack. Crowley called for Aziraphale, who rushed to the door. Upon recognizing the face, they knelt down and embraced the trembling figure.

"Warlock?" the two supernatural beings asked, ushering the child inside.

The person shook their head.

"Not Warlock anymore. I- I think I'm Lenna," the young girl said slowly.

The angel and demon looked at each other with silent understanding.

"That's a beautiful name, Lenna. It suits you. It's a powerful name," Crowley told her, taking her hand.

"Do your parents know where you are?" Aziraphale asked.

Tears welled up in Lenna's eyes.

"They threw me out. Told me I couldn't live with them if I was.....if I was....."

Lena's words trailed off, and she wiped away a tear.

"I didn't know where else to go."

Anger flared in Aziraphale's blue eyes. To throw out such a perfect child, it was horrible, evil. Only a human could be so cruel.

"It's alright, Lenna. We're here for you. You came to the right place," Crowley assured her, gently removing her bag.

Aziraphale didn't even ask how she knew where to find them, and perhaps it was some Godly intervention, or fate, that brought Lenna to them.

"You must be exhausted, dear. It's quite the journey you made," Aziraphale remarked, heading to the kitchen. Miraculously, steaming tea and warm biscuits were already laid out on a tray. They set them on a table by the sofa.

Crowley led Lenna to the sofa, and sat next to her. Aziraphale joined, and the two were on other side of the traumatized girl.

"You can stay here as long as you like, Lenna." Crowley promised.

Lenna let out a small smile.

"I guess you're not Nanny Ashteroth anymore?" she hesitantly asked.

"You can call me Crowley. I may have a different name now, but that doesn't mean I don't still care for and cherish you as I did all those years ago."

Crowley had done his best protecting Lenna from the toxicity of her home. All his demonic wiles were nothing compared to the true evil Lenna had to grow up with. He had sensed it from the very start. It was first a discomfort, then an uneasy feeling of being unsafe. Lenna had not had easy. He was reluctant to leave Lenna, but she had grown too old for a nanny, and Mr. Dowling had wanted her to move on to learning how to be a man. It was almost as if Crowley knew the day was coming that Lenna would find him again.

"And I'm sure you can tell I'm not Brother Francis," Aziraphale chuckled.

"What should I call you, then?"

"Aziraphale, or just Zira if you find it too much of a mouthful."

Aziraphale smiled warmly at Lenna.

"I think I'll stick to Zira."

Lenna yawned.

"Getting late, isn't it?"

Lenna nodded.

"You can stay in the library, if you like. We can fix up a cozy nook for you," Aziraphale suggested.

"That sounds great, Zira. Thank you."

"And in the morning, we can figure all the technical things out. For now, you need your sleep." Crowley said with a familiar fondness.

Once they were sure Lenna was asleep, Crowley and Aziraphale retired to their room.

"Poor girl. It pains me to think of what she had to endure with those scum," Aziraphale muttered with a twinge of sadness.

"Hell isn't enough for what those two deserve," Crowley agreed.

Aziraphale sighed.

"Fancy us, Godfathers again," they commented, settling into bed beside Crowley.

"I think we're more than Godfathers now, Angel," he murmered, planting a kiss on Aziraphale's cheek.

"So we're parents now, you suppose?" Aziraphale asked as Crowley turned out the light.

"I suppose so," he answered, pulling them close.

#goodomens #ineffablelovers #aziracrow #lgbtq+