ritz-writes
i like to hurt my favorite characters
Ritz || 23 || She/They (pick one. I prefer fem terms regardless tho)
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that moment when the person you like is talking to you, but you're not paying attention because you're thinking about how good that mouth must taste
#he literally looks like hes pouting when crowley looks away#i feel like im imagining it but it looks like his brow furrows just the smallest bit#'what r u doing we were having a moment :('#good omens
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im imaging the first time he says it, he's snarky
"To what do i owe the pleasure, oh holiest supreme archangel aziraphale" with a little bow (whilst hes drunk off his ass ofc)
and then the first time he says it in place of "angel" he adds a bite to the 'ch' sound
"You don't get to ask me that, archangel."
its a stab and its meant to be. it hurts crowley to say and it hurts aziraphale to hear.
but im so excited for it cuz imagine the relief that will come with finally hearing him say "angel" later. to hear him say it with worry or relief, with importance and 'I'm tired of being mad'-ance.
and imagine if you will, dear reader, if before he says angel again, he says to someone else, be it another demon or angel, or satan or the metatron, or even god Herself. Imagine Aziraphale isn't there and he looks whoever it is in the eyes and says "That's my angel."
and then later, when everything is said in done, when they finally are at peace with their cottage in the south downs, and its just them, their garden, and the sky, he says it to aziraphale.
"My angel."
i think itll all be worth it just for that
I’m on the edge of wanting it to happen and praying Neil has never thought of that
#good omens#crowley#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#almost just wrote the first part in the tags. glad i didnt cuz then the word just kept wording
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Hey, i see that you're drowning. Here's some arm floaties, hope they help.
Oh, I see they are really helping huh?
"Why is that person using arm floaties? they're not drowning..."
I see that you're not drowning, you're doing good so I'm gonna take the arm floaties away from you. Wait, why are you drowning again? You were fine one second ago, you must be faking it.
"Can I please have some arm floaties?"
"But you haven't entered the pool yet."
"Yeah but I can't swim, I know that I can't swim, so some arm floaties would really help me not to drown."
"You're asking for arm floaties without even trying to swim, you're just lazy and you want more help than the others have, the others are doing just fine..."
"I don't need to get into the watter to know that I can't swim. You're telling me I can't have arm floaties unless I'm actively drowning? You won't give them to me even though I warned you I will drown?"
This post was never about arm floaties.
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#growing with my deadname was a hastle#to the point where as a kid id ask ppl to try and spell it when i first met them#i was used to everyone spelling it wrong or saying it wrong#and only one person has ever gotten the spelling right on the first try: the person i married#i was so convinced someone told them already but theyve sworn up and down they didnt even know my name 😂#my new name is 3 letters. if someone misspells that?? ill explode
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This war has to stop. Israel is stopping aid from getting into Gaza and people are starving.
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“Use your gifts and your talents to greatest possible effect while you can. Spread joy wherever possible. Laugh at jokes. Tell jokes. Make puns and bugger the embuggerances. Read books. Read my books. You might like them. You might find something else you like even more than them. Look for these things in life.
Question authority. Champion good causes. Speak out against injustice. Do not tolerate bullies or bigots or racists or anti-intellectuals or the narrow-minded. Use your education to challenge them. Broaden their perspectives. Make the world you interface with a happier place.
These are your choices. Choices you have been fortunate to have been given, so don’t waste them while you have them. Don’t look back in years to come and wish you had grasped a fleeting opportunity. Grasp it now with both hands, Live. Strive. Love.”
from A Little Advice for Life taken from ‘Terry Pratchett: from birth to death, a writer.’
—Sir Terry Pratchett; April 28, 1948 – March 12, 2015
One of the greatest compliments I've ever received is that I resemble Sam Vimes.
Mind how you go.
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Neil Gaimain about writing Good Omens with Terry Pratchett (x)
Neil: His line to me when we were writing “Good Omens”, he would phone me up and he’d say, I’ve just done this and it’s made it 17% funnier. I’d written this whole meeting between the International Express man and Pollution and I’d mentioned that, you know, ‘he and his wife went down there sometimes when they were courting to spoon’ and Terry added the line, ‘and on one memorable occason, fork.’
Rob: On one memorable occasion.
Neil: On one memorable occasion, and it‘s made it 17% better. In fact, in that case it may have made it 100% better.
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remember taking those "what job should you have" tests in middle school and the questions were like "do you think people deserve to suffer?"
#i remember doing a test when applying for party city#and one of the questions was like 'when i look at the state of the world i have little hope for man kind'#and i had to pick between the strongly disagree-strongly agree scale#and i just started cackling cuz i was so caught off guard. cuz like??? its party city???#why am i being asked if i have hope for humanity 😂😭#honestly cant remember what i chose
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Okay, time to ask the real questions.
PLEASE REBLOG FOR LARGER SAMPLE
+ IF YOU CAN PUT WHAT YOU VOTED IN THE TAGS IT'D BE GREATLY APPRECIATED!!
(GIFS OF EACH LOOK/OUTFIT UNDER THE CUT)
Nanny
Sexy man, I mean Plant yeller (?)
(from) Eden (by Hozier)
Medium hair, dark sunglasses, slutty waist 2009
Starmaker
French Revolt
Modern s2 (actuality ig)
1941
whatever this is Shakespearean
Ugh they're so in love in the last gif I'll actually discorporate. Silly boys.
THANK YOU FOR VOTING AND REBLOGGING SORRY FOR THE MESS FIRST TIME DOING THIS LOL
Also tagging @sideblog-of-the-maggotdom And @weirdly-specific-but-ok bc reachability tyvm <3 (and pls vote if u can!)
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reblog for sample size !!
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Fanatic Intervention Part 8!!
I see your votes everyone, and I hear your voices. But before I can, in good conscience, place us in Heathrow, I need to share this with you.
Beginning|| Previous || Next
******************
In the end, convincing Aziraphale (who, surprise surprise, had never flown on a plane) that First Class was the way to go wasn’t all that hard.
“Otherwise you fly all cramped with hundreds of other people!” You say. Crowley nods.
“Mmmmm yes,” the demon agrees, “Imagine being elbow-to-elbow with all those humans. Feet in your face, children kicking the back of your seat, sharing an armrest!”
“I rather like humans though,” says Azirphale, even though he looks a little pale at the mention of armrests, “And I would be next to you anyway.”
“What about the humans who haven’t showered for days?” You ask, “How long has it been since the last time you were near one person, nevermind a hundred-ish, who didn’t follow basic hygiene practices? A few hundred years?”
Aziraphale’s face falls. Crowley chimes in.
“Oh yes, just imagine all the sweat and grease from the airport food.”
“And then there are the babies that travel. I mean, their ears pop when the plane takes off and when it lands, and they only really have one coping strategy.”
“Aaah,” Crowley says, “The crying babes! Think of all the crying babies and no escape! Not for hours and hours and hours.”
“And then,” You say, “There’s the in-flight meal.” Here, you seem to have struck a cord. Duh, you should have led with this. Aziraphale raises an eyebrow.
“Oh? They serve food?”
“Psh,” You say, “If you can call it that. They ask you if you want chicken or vegetarian, and then they plop a cardboard box with a film top in front of you.”
“It’s dreadful,” agrees Crowley, “All bland and clearly frozen and warmed up in a microwave.”
“And if you’re lucky, you can tell that it’s meant to be a sandwich,” You add.
“Supposing you can tell that it’s food at all!” Crowley says with a nod, “And their wine list is small potatoes.”
“Small bland potatoes,” You say, “If you can call them potatoes at all – served in the tiniest bottles and the tiniest glasses you ever did see.”
You noticed Aziraphale’s eye twitch ever so slightly.
“And in First Class they...they serve actual food and wine, do they?”
“Oh yeah,” You say, “with proper service and cloth napkins and everything. Most of the airline websites say that the food’s prepared by an actual chef.”
“And the glasses are normal sizes, and made of actual glass,” adds Crowley for good measure. Aziraphale hums.
“Yes, fine. Clearly First Class is the only acceptable way to travel.” He leaves the room. You hear the kettle turn on. He probably needs some tea to calm his nerves after hearing all that. You turn to Crowley.
“So you’ve gone on a plane before, huh? Did you invent the food? I would not be surprised if you did.”
“Me?” Crowley says, “Naaaah. Never flown on a plane. Never needed to. But I know a bit of fun when I see it.”
You look up at him and sigh, cradling your chin in your hands for effect.
“It really is no wonder why Aziraphale loves you so much.”
“Ngk,” Crowley says, his ears turning pink.
-----
And now, dear Reader, we arrive at Heathrow. Anathema and Newt had met you at the bookshop, and the four of you drove over together in the Bentley after bidding Newt and Muriel goodbye. You spend the entire wait in line at airport security feeling nervous. Airport security is always a test for your nerves to begin with, but this time you have no passport or paperwork of any kind to twiddle in your hands to take the edge off. Instead, you fidget relentlessly with the button in your pocket (Muriel, being an observant and kind soul, had given you a large-ish green button to put in your pocket “Because you seem nervous, and it looked like it helped you last time.” You swear if anyone harms your new best friend while you’re gone you will end them). The line goes quicker than you would like, and when it gets to be your turn, honestly you’re not sure what happens. It all goes smoothly. Did Aziraphale and Crowley miracle you a passport? Did they click a finger or wave a hand to convince the guard that everything was in order? You have no idea, because you’re too focused on your nerves and Trying Not To Look Suspicious While Worrying That This Makes You Look More Suspicious Than You Would If You Could Just Be Normal About This (if you know the feeling, you know why it gets to be capitalized like that).
Once the stress of airport security is done, you head to the bathroom for a break from the chaos so that you can figure out how to breathe again. Normally, you wouldn’t be That Person to occupy the Accessible Washroom, but since you are desperately trying not to have a panic attack because of all the pent-up anxiety from the whole airport security thing, you decide that you Really Cannot Do People Right Now, and that the single-occupant washroom may be your saving grace. You lock the door and sigh, leaning against the cold metal. It’s comparatively quiet here, and you’re grateful for it. Thank Someone. You resolve to try not to be too long in case someone who actually needs this washroom comes by (although I’m gonna be honest here, reader, right now you need this room for invisible accessibility/health reasons). After a minute or two, you are finally starting to feel your anxiety return to a manageable level. Everything is okay. You are traveling with the most ideal companions you could ever dream of, and the worst part is over. Everything from here on out is smooth sailing.
Except, dear reader, you all voted. And So It Shall Be.
You’ve just finished drying your hands.
“Aah,” says a voice behind you. You jump a solid 3 feet in the air. “I thought I might find you here.”
“HOLY! FUCKING! ZOMBIE! JESUS!!!” You sputter.
“Mind your manners, human.”
“Manners?? ME?? This is a WASHROOM.”
The Metatron looks at you blankly and shrugs. Ah yes, the biggest jerk in Heaven doesn’t know or care about washrooms or privacy. Or actually being polite.
“I merely wanted to have a word with you. Away from the others, of course.”
“Yeeeaaaaah,” You say. You’ve seen a million movies (approximate), and read a million books (also approximate), you know what this is. This is the maybe we can still solve this problem quietly plot. And you know that actually having the conversation is a bad idea. “I don’t think so.”
You reach for thee door. It’s locked, and it won’t unlock. Of course. You (gently) pound your head against the door, before turning to face Metatron. You take a breath, and answer as calmly as you can given how angry you are.
“What. Do you want?”
“I merely hoped that we could agree upon...an arrangement.”
“Pretty sure I made it clear back at the bookshop that I’m not letting you anywhere near them.”
“Oh dear, no. This has nothing to do with the demon or with Aziraphale. This is about you.”
You mentally brace yourself. Here comes the manipulation. You inwardly remind yourself of the tropes of villain manipulation and all the things you’ve ever shouted at the tv screen after one of these interactions. You need to be prepared, because apparently you need to play this out. And so, you give him the response he clearly wants.
“What about me?”
“Well, my dear, I only thought that perhaps you might like to go home.”
“Ha! Nice try.”
“You have no desire to return to your family? Your friends? Your life?”
“Not right now, thanks.”
“And you think you’ll get a similar offer later?”
“I mean...well yeah. I don’t know whether I would actually want to go back yet but --”
“You think Aziraphale and his associates will want to keep you as their pet forever? My dear, they only entertain you right now because you’re useful to them.”
Okay, I mean you knew that already but still. Ouch. Hearing it out loud is just...Ouch. Unfortunately, you do not have the Acting Prowess of either Michael Sheen or David Tennant, and so the Metatron sees the Ouch. He smiles kindly.
“Here, you are merely a tool,” he continues, voice smooth as honey, “And back home there are people who love you and value your presence in their lives. Back home there are people who miss you purely because you are you. Here, you are well, a convenience. A help. But that’s all. And once this is all over, there is no promise, no guarantee that you would be able to return. And no reason for Aziraphale to keep you. You would need to start again, and since you needed the help of an angel to get through airport security, I’m guessing that would be very difficult for you. And then, of course, there’s your immortal soul to be concerned about once the Final Judgment comes to pass.”
You ignore the bait, even though it stings. Take a breath. You’ve got this.
“That’s all irrelevant right now,” You say.
“Is it? It seems that you’re….what’s that charming human expression? Flying by the seat of your pants?” He chuckles at his own joke. You smile awkwardly. Well, yes you are, but the heroes in stories do all the time. They figure it out as they go. You are doing no worse than any of them. You don’t find the joke so funny. And frankly his laughter is unsettling.
“Um...” You start uncertainly, “Well if that’s all, then can I go now?”
“In a moment,” the Metatron says smugly. Oh you hate that he has so much control right now. “First I would like to extend to you the offer of some help. I would like to see you home safely, at a time of your choosing. Whenever you feel that you are ready.”
“And you have the power to do that, do you?” You’re skeptical.
“I have the power of all Creation at my disposal.”
“Riiiiight. Just out of the goodness of your own angelic heart. That’s very kind of you Metatron.” You’re not sure if he hears the edge of sarcasm. He shrugs regardless.
“There is of course, one and only one thing I would like from you if you decide to take my help.”
“Oooooof course there is. I’m not letting you near Aziraphale and Crowley.”
“Once again, my dear, this has nothing to do with them. All I would like is to know why your first instinct was to take that coffee. The full truth, mind you. None of that sarcasm or loophole nonsense that you humans are so fond of. And do not be foolish enough to think I can’t tell the difference.” He looks at you pointedly.
That’s...a suspiciously innocuous request. But then again, it usually is with these sort of things, isn’t it? You feign non-chalance and tap your foot for emphasis.
“Are you done yet?” You ask obstinately. The door unlocks audibly behind you.
“Just think about it,” says the Metatron, “No rush.”
Oh yes there is one. You rush to open the door. Never before have you felt so relieved to be in a crowded place.
Don't worry about airplane route logistics or whether or not you can actually get a direct flight from Heathrow to Orlando. Just vote for whatever you would like :)
❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤
Beginning|| Previous || Next
#tell them tell them tell themmmm#and i rlly wanna see aziraphales reaction to the hustle bustle of nyc hehe#good omens#also very much understand why that one part gets to be capitalized 💀 man is it a Feeling
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I understand the "I will die for you" ship dynamic, but what about the "I will not let you die, I will not let myself die- we will, at any cost, survive" kind of couple?
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I'm confused about the GO timeline. When Crowley and Aziraphale first meet, we learn that They will be "shutting all this down again in about 6,000 years.". But Crowley tells Nina and Maggie that he and Aziraphale have been talking for millions of years. How is that possible?
Because there was lots of Good Omens angel time before Earth Time started.
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I think detaching disgust from morality is one of the keys to Chilling Out. You can find inner peace by being able to go "hm! Gross" and recognize if it's an actual problem or not. Cause if it's not an actual problem... it's not your problem 🙏 god bless
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some of my favorite replies to this tweet. happy lesbian visibility week!
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