#numenoreanrockopera

[mad-madam-m]

Can you please, please write a full length fic of the extended tags you did for the ‘you didn’t have a trial’ Aziraphale/Crowley piece?

I have enough other stuff to write, so I was going to say no, but 1) this is the second request I’ve gotten for a full(er) fic based on these tags and 2) let’s be real, the amount of prompting I need right now to write a Good Omens fic is approximately zero. So here you go!

“You know, I’ve been meaning toask, what was my trial like?” Aziraphale asked out of the blue after threebottles of wine.

Crowley fumbled his glass and nearlydropped it, and only a minor demonic miracle kept the wine from splattering allover the sofa. “Er, what?”

“My trial. You know.”Aziraphale pointed upward at the bookshop ceiling and then poured them bothsome more wine. “Up there. I mean, you did say they won’t leave us aloneforever, and much as I want you to be wrong about that, I don’tthink you are. If Gabriel or one of the others mentions something to me, Ishouldn’t like to give the game away if I don’t know what they’re talkingabout.”

Crowley’s throat went suddenly dry,and he drank most of his wine in one swallow. “I mean, I could bewrong. It’s been a few weeks. They may be leaving us alone forgood.”

“Crowley, I know you don’tactually believe that,” Aziraphale said in a manner that meant he wouldn’tbe budged on this topic, and then his face softened into concern. “Mydear, what is it? Was it really that awful?”

There was no way to hide it. And he shouldn’t behiding it, but the instinct he had to protect Aziraphale was strong. Theyboth knew how awful the angels could be, but Aziraphale seemed to cling stubbornlyto the idea that there was still good up there, somehow. And Crowleyhated being put in the position to remind him otherwise.

He sighed and pulled off hissunglasses. The least he could do was do this without any barriers betweenthem. “You didn’t have a trial, angel.”

Aziraphale stared at him, eyes goingever-so-slightly wider than normal. “What?”

Crowley rubbed the bridge of hisnose and looked down at his wine glass. “There wasn’t a trial. They justtied me up in a chair until the demon got there with the hellfire. And thenthey only untied me to tell me to walk into it. No prosecution, no defense, nonothing.” He cleared his throat and finished off the last of his wine.“It was just an execution.”

He looked back up from the glass toAziraphale, who had gone uncharacteristically still. The disbelief on his facefaded as the words sank in, and he looked…

Shattered. Shattered and hollow andmore than a little betrayed.

Crowley hated himself for puttingthat look on his angel’s face, even if he was only the messenger.

Aziraphale blinked quickly andsmiled, but it was only a faint echo of his usual one. “Oh. Well. I reallyshouldn’t be surprised, all things considered. Gabriel isn’t one to let thingslike facts get in the way of his decisions. And it does make thingsa bit easier on me, I suppose. Not much at all to remember, is there?” Hegestured with his glass. “Thank you for telling me, my dear.”

No, Crowley didn’t hate himself. Hehated Gabriel, and if that bastard of an archangel came within a hundredfeet of Aziraphale, Crowley was going to burn him where he stood. He’d do it now ifhe thought it would wipe the broken look off Aziraphale’s face. He’d yank themall out of Heaven in a heartbeat.

But he’d known Aziraphale too long.Revenge wouldn’t fix anything, and Aziraphale would probably be upset with himfor even trying it.

Crowley cast about for an idea,something that would help. “Why don’t we go see a movie? It’sFriday. There’s loads of new ones.”

Aziraphale laughed, although itwasn’t so much of a laugh as a sharp exhale through a smile that was breakingapart. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling much for a movie.”

“Concert?” Crowley suggested.“I think there’s one you’d really love.”

Aziraphale shook his head.

“Opera? They’re doing Carmentonight.” Somebody somewhere would be doing Carmen tonight; Crowleycould find a way to get them there. “Or Hamlet?”

Fuck, he would sit through a hundred performancesof Hamlet if it just meant Aziraphale would smile like normal again.

Aziraphale’s smile trembled, and hestood up from his chair and joined Crowley on the couch. “I think,”he said very softly, “I would just like you to sit with me for abit.”

It was both the simplest thing to doand the hardest thing to do. Crowley switched his glass to his other hand so hecould put his arm on the back of the couch, behind Aziraphale. “Of course,angel.”

Aziraphale shifted closer, andCrowley took the invitation to drop his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders. Hisangel let out a shuddering sigh and leaned fully against him, resting his headon Crowley’s shoulder.

Crowley held him close and pretendedhe didn’t hear it when Aziraphale sniffled. He did, however, mentally catalogall the ways he knew to kill an angel because he would only get the chance touse one of them on Gabriel and he had to pick the best one. Mightas well get started on deciding now, so when the time came, he would be ready.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat together,quiet but for Aziraphale’s shaky breaths. It had to have been awhile, becauseCrowley had finished going through every way he knew of to completely andutterly destroy Gabriel, and had moved on through Uriel and Sandalphon and was workingon Michael just for the hell of it (Michael hadn’t been there, but Michael wasa wanker of the highest order and Crowley would dearly love toshove them into a pillar of fire) when Aziraphale sat up and patted Crowley’sshoulder.

“I’m afraid I’ve made quite amess of your shirt,” he said.

“It’s fine,” Crowley saidquickly. He could not give less of a shit about his shirt. “It’llclean.”

The smile Aziraphale gave him wasstill small, but much closer to his usual one, and the knot of anxiety inCrowley’s chest finally began to loosen. “Well, thank you very much, mydear.”

“Of course.” Crowleyrubbed his thumb along Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Whatever you need.”

It scared him sometimes, the depthwith which he meant that. He wasn’t sure if Aziraphale evenunderstood the true lengths to which he’d go.

Then again, Aziraphale had threatenednever to talk to him again and Crowley’s immediate response had been to stoptime, so maybe he did.

Aziraphale stared at the floor ofthe bookshop, looking not quite as shattered as he had before but stillimpossibly sad. Crowley was torn between wrapping him in a blanket andgetting a head start on his revenge plans.

He compromised on attempting morecomfort. “You’re better than all of them, you know. Bunch ofself-righteous, hypocritical—”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Crowley.”

“What? I’m not wrong. I’ma demon, I can spot self-righteous hypocrisy from several miles away. They’reawful, angel. You aren’t. You’re what they should be.”

Aziraphale did not look at him, butCrowley saw the corner of his lips turn up. “Will you be irritated if Isay that’s very kind of you?”

“Only if you say it loudly,”Crowley muttered. He still had something of a reputation to uphold.

“Hm. Then I shall say this nextpart very quietly.” Aziraphale sat up a little straighter and linked hishands in his lap. “You are my oldest and dearest friend, and your opinionmatters more to me than anyone else’s. It always has, even when I was toofrightened to admit it.”

Crowley gaped at him and scrambledto find a coherent thought, as his entire conscious mind was hung up on oldestand dearest friend. “Hang on, I’m supposed to be the one saying thingsto make you feel better.”

Aziraphale turned to him, and nowhis smile was much closer to normal. “Interesting. It seems like saying nicethings to you helps immensely. I’ll have to do it some more.”

The very air in the bookshop had tobe consecrated. That was the only explanation for why his cheeks were suddenly burning.“You do not.”

“Oh, I really think I do.”Aziraphale patted his knee. “In fact, I think I need to doit.”

The sly look in his eyes told Crowleythat the word choice had absolutely been deliberate. He groaned and dropped hishead back on the couch. “Just keep it quiet, will you?”

“As a mouse,” Aziraphalepromised, but he was practically glowing with the prospect.

The sight of it loosened the knot inCrowley’s chest the rest of the way.

He groaned again, but it was onlyfor effect. He had meant what he’d said, after all.

Whatever his angel needed.

[futuresoon]

Please tell me you scanned that Amok Time script hahaha

it’s come to my attention that it probably isn’t actually a physical copy of the script--apparently fans used to make photocopies of them and spread them at conventions, and given that this one has obvious photocopier marks on some of the pages, that seems pretty likely. so its only actual value is as a receptacle for the words of the script, which are on the internet already--google “amok time script” and you’ll find a couple places. it does seem like the stage directions aren’t all online, but from what i skimmed, most of them aren’t very interesting; it’s only the ones i took pictures of that stood out, and now that i made that post, they’re on the internet too.

in any case, by now the script i found is either 1) thrown away because it’s just a photocopy and no one outside slash fandom cares about a few lines of stage directions or 2) with the rest of my grandpa’s stuff at the college he went to. either way, the only use it has to fandom is for those few lines, so whatever happened to the paper doesn’t really matter. words are cool like that.

[atlantis-is-burning]

@numenoreanrockopera omg baabbee 🥲

let's be mutuals again in our next life

[sally-shears]

1. I talked to an Adult Higher-Up and she said I should have asked him to leave for being disrespectful in which case he would have gotten a 0 instead of a quiz grade this week. That would probably count as making him pay but I didn’t know I was allowed to do that. But then he only scored like 3 points anyway.

2. He was watching a video of one of the lectures. They’re supposed to do that as prep before the next lecture, not during Discussion times where they are supposed to do practice problems in groups. I tried to explain that but he just gave me attitude and told me he couldn’t do the problems without watching the video. Needless to say I explained how to do the problems in great detail just minutes before that while he was talking to a buddy and I had to ask him to please not talk while I’m talking. 

3. Eh, I don’t want him to think he’s cool for giving me attitude and refusing to listen to me. It was sad and childish and mostly unnecessary. Nothing cool about that. I’m sure he wouldn’t have talked to a Real Professor like that and he did to me because he knows I’m just a lowly TA.

[garrulus]

@numenoreanrockopera said:Take some butter that is not quite room temperature; a little colder is better. Place it in a bowl. Place some of the strawberry jam in the bowl as well. Mash with a fork. Strawberry butter. Perfection on bread. Trust me.

ugh i just saw this now! totally doing it tomorrow!!

[sally-shears]

Thanks, you’re too nice! I think my make-up ‘skills’ vaguely improved this year actually.

[sally-shears]

Actually, ermengarde bought me this shirt for last Christmas/birthday so she should really be getting all the credit for this look.

[sally-shears]

1) Yeah, it kind of really was. I came back super early because the person I rode with wanted to go to church and spent most of the day after that napping. Even slightly awkward social arrangements are for some reason super power draining to me.

2) Yeah, she asked for my phone number while we were visiting in case of an emergency or something like that but I think she’s actually just one of those people that like to be a super-up-to-date-fake-mom to everyone her kids associate with. Again, given that I’m some random foreign girl her son met this winter I feel like she’s actually being really nice to me.

[sally-shears]

Thanks, friends.

[sally-shears]

Yeah, I hope so. I mean, the whole thing is probably just in my head and if he were more aggressively flirty I'd probably be complaining about that too. I just don't really know how to do the whole going-on-dates thing since in the past I'd always gotten involved with people who were some variety of a friend that then very explicitly, very aggressively chased after me. Maybe a more conventional experience is good for my psyche anyways.

Thanks for chipping in, you're the nicest. Best of luck!

[sally-shears]

You guys are the absolute nicest.

[sally-shears]

Oh, this is pretty late in the run so it's not all like this but it is an amazing series and I am hooking you up as we speak.

[sally-shears]

It was pretty great. I wish you could have been here with us.

[sally-shears]

I'm pretty sure I'd follow you into any battle with that attitude. Thanks friend.

[sally-shears]

I think it's equal parts having a sore throat and being overall exhausted with my bad posture added in the mix. I know it could be a symptom of something more serious than a cold otherwise but I'm not experiencing anything particularly unusual so hopefully I can get away with just tea and oranges and minimal cold medicine.

[sally-shears]

Maybe we should start a tall girl gang or something, like wear unreasonably high shoes and menacing faces and literally look down on all the short people at all times.