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ticklishfiend · 8 months

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A Plan Fit for an Angel (Good Omens)

(Lee! Aziraphale/Ler!Crowley) (brief lee!crowley/ler!aziraphale)

Summary : Crowley’s dignity was positively shattered being tickled by Aziraphale two weeks ago. Well, only one way to fix that: getting revenge. [see part one here! this is a sequel]

a/n : i lobe them sm

Word Count : 3626

hope u enjoy! :)

. . .

There are two types of demons: Those that like to strike as soon as they see their target, and those that plan their evil-doings methodically, thinking out every angle so they can strike their prey when they least expect it.

It might shock some to find that Crowley tends to lean more towards the latter.

It had been two weeks since Aziraphale had pestered Crowley with those god-awful jokes, relishing in his demon’s irritation. Two weeks since Crowley had been tickled into the couch cushions so Aziraphale could win an argument.

So for two weeks, Crowley has been planning.

And planning for Crowley doesn’t mean he just thought real long and hard about how he’d make his move. No, planning requires research. Lots and lots of research.

Tickling isn’t something Crowley would call a regular occurance between the two of them. Yes, it happens, has happened, but if you were to ask for something defining that they do together, tickling would be quite low on his list, if it made it there at all.

So maybe, before he strikes, he’ll need something of a…refresher.

Aziraphale stood in the bookshop’s tiny kitchen, making himself a cup of tea. Crowley stood at the doorway, wondering if his angel knew he was there.

“I know you’re there, yknow?”

Ah. So he does.

Doesn’t matter. He knows Aziraphale will continue to read through his book on the counter, waiting for his water to heat in the kettle like Crowley wasn’t even there. He was too comfortable in Crowley’s presence…making him far easier to attack.

So Crowley sauntered behind Aziraphale, miracling up a feather from his wing. He heard a page being flipped.

“Whatcha readin’?” Crowley asked, before placing the feather under Aziraphale’s shirt without having to move a finger. Real magic truly was the best thing since sliced bread (trust him, he was there when it happened, sliced bread was quite the invention for the time).

“Oh it’s a lovely book, I’ve read it many times but somehow I keep coming back to it. Georgette Heyer’s ‘The Black Moth.’ Quite a page turner; it takes place in 1751, during the—AH-!” Aziraphale flinched, his right arm gluing itself to his side.

Crowley smirked behind Aziraphale, still looking over his shoulder at the book. His finger waggled near Aziraphale’s coat, a magic tether traveling from it to the feather. “What was that, angel?”

“Er, nothing I just—well I think there may be something in my shirt. I do hope it’s not a bug,” Aziraphale said, before snapping his fingers. A feather floated down onto the pages of his book. A black feather, to be precise.

Aziraphale clicked his tongue. “I see.”

“How peculiar,” Crowley grinned. “Wonder how that got in there?” He walked right out of the room to avoid further accusations, all of which would probably be correct.

Stage one: complete.

Now onto stage two. Snake time, baby.

Crowley very rarely switched to his snake form these days. Really no need, plus any time he did he was usually beaten within an inch of discorporation by a horrified human. So no, he doesn’t typically take his snake form anymore.

But occasionally, when he’s feeling rather…well, one might use the word clingy (Crowley detests such accusations), he’ll be a snake for a few hours just for the excuse to curl up on Aziraphale’s lap while he reads.

This usually embarrasses Crowley, not exactly one open to admitting his love of cuddles and pets and head scratches. Which is why he’s especially excited about snake time today, since he’s getting to embarrass Aziraphale this time and not the other way around.

He’d taken his form around 20 minutes ago, giving himself time to adjust to the change and alert Aziraphale of his body today. When he heard, Aziraphale went and made a cozy spot for himself on the couch, beginning to read his book. It was a silent code to Crowley that Aziraphale was ready for cuddles whenever he was.

It was no surprise when Crowley slithered his way onto the couch, his now curled body finding purchase on Aziraphale’s lap. The angel got to petting, resting his book along the serpent’s scaled back. He scritched softly at Crowley’s head, running his hand down the length of his now much longer body.

Crowley almost got lost in the comfy-ness of it all when he felt Aziraphale stray too close to his underside, a sensitive area on both of his bodies. Ohohoh, the plan, yes right, I’ll get on that now.

With the sneakiness only a serpent could possess, he slowly moved his tail around until he found the area buttons can’t close up on Aziraphale’s shirt, and slithered his way in. Bingo.

He only allowed himself about an inch’s worth of entry, can’t get too confident now. He waited a few moments, listening for Aziraphale to stir or speak up. He didn’t move, though, so that’s a good sign. Now he can strike.

Crowley fluttered his tail back and forth, like a rattlesnake in slow motion. Aziraphale huffed.

“Is that you down there?” He asked, voice a little wobbly like trying to hold something back. Got ‘em.

“Is what me?” Crowley said in his tired, I’m-far-too-comfortable-to-care voice.

“It is you!” Aziraphale let out a giggle through his words, moving Crowley around in his lap to stop the incessant tickling that was still taking place on his lower belly. “Aha-! Crowley, stop!”

“I really don’t know what you mean,” Crowley yawned. “And stop moving me, m’comfortable.”

“I will not!” Finally, Aziraphale found the end of Crowley’s tail, pulling it out of his shirt and readjusting Crowley in his lap. “Now you stop that or I will be putting you off to the side.”

Crowley huffed, his body adjusting under his head in a way that almost looked like his head was laying in his arms. “Whatever. Didn’t even do it anyways. Punishing me for something I didn’t do? Now that’s just cruel.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, going back to petting Crowley while fixing his gaze back on his book.

Well, he really didn’t wanna risk ending this. Might as well enjoy it and plan for the next stage in his great scheme.

Which, as it happened, took place the very next day, snake Crowley no more.

Aziraphale sat on his favorite chair, listening to a record he recently bought at Maggie’s shop. He was the picture of content.

Crowley was bouncing on his heels ready to ruffle the angel’s feathers.

“Mmyes, some good ole’ Stravinsky. Rather liked that guy, with the whole y’know, riot debacle,” Crowley made his way around Aziraphale’s chair, leaning against its back. “Great fun that was.”

“Yes, that was a rather difficult event. I was there, you know, but I truly was only there to see the show,” said Aziraphale.

Crowley hummed, having heard the story before. He looked at Aziraphale’s ear below him, giving a puzzled look.

“What’s that in your ear?”

Aziraphale furrowed. “My ear?”

“Yes yes, there’s something in your ear.”

Aziraphale’s hand shot up to feel around his ear, “Where?”

“No you—you’re missing it, it’s nothing but a piece of fuzz, I think. Here, let me-“ He shooed Aziraphale’s hand away, before using his pointer to gently prod and scrape along the shell of his ear.

Aziraphale’s shoulder shot up. “Aha, wait, wait—there’s really no neheheed-“ He batted at Crowley’s hand, but couldn’t dissuade him.

“No seriously, I can get it if you just give me a moment-“ he wiggled the finger, and this time Aziraphale shot out of his chair with a quick giggle before turning and giving Crowley a pointed look.

“You’re messing with me,” Aziraphale straightened his coat before giving his ear a quick scratch. There was a smile small on the corner of his lips.

“Now why would I do that?”

Aziraphale shot him a look, “I’m not sure, but I know that’s what you were doing.”

Crowley walked toward Aziraphale until they were eye to eye. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, before walking out.

Stage three: complete, but Aziraphale was definitely onto him now. Time to set the real plan in motion.

Like it started, Crowley’s plan took place in the back room, wine in each of their hands as they talked and bickered and laughed with each other.

After having made Aziraphale laugh at one of his favorite stories to tell, Crowley smiled and remembered. Admittedly he had gotten a bit tipsy and nearly forgot about the whole thing until he saw his angel folding over in laughter just moments ago. Made him remember what this was all for.

He glanced over at the desk, noting Aziraphale’s current book having a very familiar bookmark peeking out of its pages. He had actually noticed this days ago, but was waiting until now to bring it up. Clever demon, he thought.

“What’s that there in your book?” He gestured lazily at it, sitting up like it was of great intrigue to him.

“Oh that’s…” Aziraphale looked at the book, like it was the first time he’d noticed it there. “Well, it’s my bookmark, of course.”

“Mmyes obviously it’s your bookmark. I meant what is it, exactly? Cause I don't know if I recognize this one.”

Aziraphale looked a bit flustered. “Erm, well it’s…it’s a feather, actually. But it works just as nicely as a bookmark.”

Crowley hummed. “Aren’t your feathers white, angel?”

Aziraphale looked without words for a moment (oh how Crowley just loved flustering his angel), before straightening his back with newfound confidence. “Well I didn’t say it was my feather, did I?”

“No, you’re right, you didn’t,” Crowley said, resting his chin in his palm as he relaxed over the arm of the sofa. Sometimes he likes letting Aziraphale think he’s won before pulling the rug out from underneath him. “Is it mine?”

Aziraphale was definitely blushing now, but he stayed on guard. “Yes, it is. You…put that blasted thing in my shirt the other day when I wasn’t looking. When it fell into my book I…well, I didn’t have a bookmark before and then I did. It’s really as simple as that.” He smiled at Crowley all clever, taking a sip from his wine.

Crowley gave Aziraphale a puzzled look. “You think I put that in there?”

Aziraphale blinked. “Well obviously. You’ve been messing with me for days.”

Crowley smirked. “Have I now?”

Aziraphale glared at him. His eyes were a bit squinted, very suspicious. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything. You’re accusing me of something I have no recollection of. I’m just asking how you think I was messing with you,” said Crowley, thinking ‘that’s right, lure him in.’

Aziraphale hesitated, like treading over thin ice. “…you’ve been teasing me, and you know it. You—you’re doing it now!”

Crowley couldn’t hold back his grin anymore. “I mean, can you blame me?” said Crowley before standing abruptly. He took a swig from the bottle, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and sat it hard against the table. “You messed with a demon angel. You never mess with a demon.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. He set himself back further into his chair, hands holding onto the arms.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Ohh, don't act all innocent now. You were quite the tease a couple weeks ago, as I remember,” Crowley pointed a finger at Aziraphale, who actually started…grinning.

“You’re still worked up over that, aren’t you?” Aziraphale asked, a clever smile taking him.

“No—no, that’s not what I mean-“

“Oh I’m sure. But you can’t really deny that apparently, you’ve been thinking about this quite a lot,” Aziraphale looked as smug as ever.

Crowley was admittedly a little stuck for words at the moment. His mouth formed around rebuttals but they never made it past his throat.

He growled before rushing over and grabbing Aziraphale by the lapels.

“Maybe so—but only because I needed to plan out exactly how I was going to get you back,” Crowley growled, grip tight on Aziraphale’s coat. He liked how nervous the angel suddenly looked. “Like I said, angel. You don’t tease a demon.”

Crowley let go of him, walking back and almost pacing in thought. He waggled a finger in the air, “But I can’t do it now. No, no you’re expecting it now. I’ve gotta get you when you’re totally off your guard,” He plopped himself back down on the couch, pointedly not looking at Aziraphale.

“So…you’re not tickling me now?” Aziraphale raised a brow his way, taking a slow sip.

“No, I’m not.”

Aziraphale shrugged, placing his glass on the table. “I’d let you.”

Crowley paused. He looked at Aziraphale like the angel had grown an extra arm. “You’d let me?”

“Well, yes. I don’t actually hate being tickled. You just keep doing it when I’m in the middle of something, or I’m trying to relax,” he said, which was the last thing Crowley was expecting. “If you just asked I’d be happy to oblige.”

Crowley was near seething. He wasn’t actually mad, just utterly irritated by how nonchalant Aziraphale could be about the whole thing. Crowley was beyond embarrassed when Aziraphale tickled him the other week. How could someone not be embarrassed by it?

Crowley shook his head, “It’s the principle of the thing. You tickled me when I wasn’t ready, I’ve got to do the same back,” Crowley took a much needed swig. “S’how revenge works, angel.”

“Be my guest then. I’m happy to wait,” Aziraphale grinned, so pleased with how quickly things had turned in his favor. Sure, he was still going to get tickled eventually. But now he knows the real context.

Crowley was still so flustered over his little tickle attack the other week, that he had been meticulously planning on how to get Aziraphale back just to regain his dignity. He couldn’t deny how adorable that much effort and thought was.

Crowley grumbled, throwing his head against the back of the couch. “Grrrrbut it’s not as fun now,” he slumped. “Now you know it’s gonna happen. Shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yes, maybe you shouldn’t have,” Aziraphale said. “Because now, once you do tickle me, I’ll have no choice but to tickle you back immediately after.”

Crowley gaped at him, actually letting out a low chuckle. “Oh really? Well that’s not fair, is it? Supposed to be tit-for-tat, don’t you think?”

“No, no I don’t think so. See, it doesn’t affect me nearly as much as it does you. That’s the fun in it.”

“It does not affect me. S’just not right for a demon to have such a weakness. Makes sense when you’re an angel, s’why you don’t give a shit.”

“I’ll have you know it’s perfectly normal for a demon to be ticklish. I tease you for it because it’s fun, but it’s not like you can help it. It’s your vessel, dear. And it’s a vessel I think you should take much more pride in than you’re giving it right now.”

Crowley just grumbled again, not really having a good response. He knows he can’t help it, but it’s still so…weird. It’s not just because he’s a ticklish demon. It’s that he’s a ticklish demon who actually finds it a little bit fun when his angel is the one tickling him. That’s the part that’s got him all screwy.

But it’s not like he could just say that.

So he stewed for a bit, thankful for Aziraphale allowing him his stew time in peace. The angel sat contentedly, sipping on his wine and basking in the lovely tension their bookshop always seemed to hold.

Crowley stewed and stewed. Pinching his lips together, sipping on the wine, reaching over and filling Aziraphale’s glass when he realized it had gone empty. But he had to say something eventually, because obviously Aziraphale wasn’t going to speak first.

And also because he kind of still wanted this to happen. Just a little.

“Fine.”

Aziraphale looked up. “Fine?”

“Yes, fine, whatever, just get over here and let me get my fffffucking revenge already.”

Aziraphale grinned, already beginning to stand. “I thought you said I couldn’t expect it when you get your revenge?”

“Oh that’s still gonna happen,” He smiled as Aziraphale sat next to him, the demon already crawling into his space.

“You do remember I’m getting you back as soon as you’re done, right?” Aziraphale said with a nervous titter in his voice, backing up towards the arm of the couch.

“Yeah I know. Guess that just means I’ve gotta make this count,” Crowley said as he fully closed in on Aziraphale, cornering him into the couch. He just hovered, for a moment, his hands floating over Aziraphale without touching him.

Aziraphale swallowed. “Well…?”

Crowley grinned. “Well, what?” He wiggled his fingers, and Aziraphale tittered anxiously.

“Are you going to…?”

“Can’t say it now?” Crowley’s eyes were devilish as he smirked. “Is someone getting nervous now that I’ve got him cornered?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, a meek attempt at confidence over the situation. His slight squirming and tight lipped smile gave him away. “No.”

“No?” Crowley asked, before jerking his hand down near Aziraphale’s side, laughing at Aziraphale’s flinch. “I haven’t even touched you!”

“But you’re going to!” Aziraphale practically whined, a ghost of a giggle lacing his voice. “Just get on with it, I’m not sure I can take this.”

Crowley smiled genuinely. “Oh alright. But just because it’s you.”

Finally, after waiting oh so patiently for this moment the past two weeks, Crowley struck. He went straight for Aziraphale’s sides, thankfully unguarded since the angel had taken his vest off hours ago. Aziraphale yipped, trying to hold in his laughs for a brief moment before falling into those angelic cackles Crowley could eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

“AH! Ahaha—Crohowley!” he laughed, sliding down unconsciously and only stretching his body out more for Crowley. “Wahahait!”

“Oh no, I’ve done plenty of waiting recently,” Crowley said, delivering sporadic pokes up and down Aziraphale’s torso, the angel’s cackles shooting up as he did so. “See, s’not so fun when it’s you getting tickled, huh?”

“It’s fuhuhun! Just—“ he was cut off by his own loud laughter as Crowley shot his hands into his armpits. Arms slammed against his sides, twisting and turning every which way because it was just too much. “—tihihickles!”

Crowley chuckled, ecstatic. “Bet it does,” he said, pulling one hand out from its trapped state in Aziraphale’s underarm to reach up and give his ear gentle scratches. Aziraphale squeaked, a hand shooting up to protect the ear. Seeing the opportunity, Crowley shot his hand right back under his arm, and Aziraphale shook his head through his laughter and shock.

“Nohot fahahair!” Aziraphale blushed, unsure of what to do with his hands. He opted to batting them around uselessly.

“You’re playing with a demon, angel, what did you expect?” Crowley said, before taking both hands out to squeeze, pinch, poke, prod and scribble all over Aziraphale’s tummy.

Aziraphale’s laughter was all over the place now. It was like he couldn’t decide whether to give deep, belly laughs or squeals and giggles fit for his angelic persona. The tips of Crowley’s ears grew warm at the sound.

“This is hysterical, by the way,” Crowley laughed, pinching Aziraphale’s hips and watching as he barked a laugh, twisting and gripping onto Crowley’s wrists. “I mean I knew you were ticklish, but this is priceless.”

“You’ve made your point!” Aziraphale giggled out helplessly. “I gehehet it! It’s bahahad! It’s sohoho baahahad—!” He fell into a giggle fit that made it impossible to hold a conversation, wheezing pitifully.

“I could keep going, yknow. Show you actual demonic torture,” Crowley grinned when Aziraphale shook his head, cheeks plump and pink from mirth. “Say you’re sorry and I’ll consider it.”

Aziraphale slapped Crowley’s arm playfully. Crowley poked softly but quickly over Aziraphale’s torso, easing up on the tickling just enough for him to get some words out. Aziraphale panted a bit, giggles lacing every breath.

“Okay okhahay! I’m sohohorry!” Aziraphale giggle, pushing Crowley’s hands away from him. Crowley let his hands be moved for just a moment, before giving one last quick squeeze to Aziraphale’s hips just to make him yip.

Crowley smiled down at his angel, watching him catch his breath and try to will away that blush from his cheeks. Aziraphale looked up at Crowley with a pointed expression, “Wily serpent.”

Crowley laughed, “You asked me to!”

“I did not ask you to. You obviously wanted to do it so I…obliged,” Aziraphale shrugged, the lie plain as day on his face. Crowley couldn’t help but snicker.

“Yes, of course. Obliging the temptation of a demon really is your forte, after all,” Crowley teased, laying his front down on Aziraphale’s, making himself comfy. “Had your fun?”

Aziraphale sighed through a smile, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Crowley’s back. “Well…not quite.”

Crowley’s face puzzled before feeling Aziraphale’s grip tighten around his torso. His snake eyes grew twice their size, “C’mon angel, play fair.”

“This is fair. I told you what I’d do if you tickled me,” Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s forehead, not giving him a moment to think about that shit before digging his fingers into the backs of Crowley’s ribs.

“FuhuAHK-!” Crowley jolted, falling into helpless laughter on top of his angel. He squirmed and giggled and held onto Aziraphale’s body even tighter just so he could resist throwing himself off.

“‘Demonic cackle’ my behind,” Aziraphale teased. “You’re far too sweet for that, my dear.”

Crowley blushed, hiding that and his smile in Aziraphale’s neck, not missing the way the angel giggled whenever his nose brushed the skin.

The plan ended up being much more than successful. It was everything Crowley could’ve ever hoped for.

. . .

a/n : hope u enjoyed! consider reblogging if u liked it <3

#tickle community #tickling #tickle fic #good omens #good omens tickling #lee!aziraphale #ler!crowley #lee!crowley #ler!aziraphale #ticklish aziraphale #ticklish crowley

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mimisempai · 3 months

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LITTLE SEEDS OF HAPPINESS 4/4

Chapter 4 : Blossoming

Chapter Summary

Aziraphale and Crowley experience the same doubts as they look forward to their date.

Will Aziraphale finally find out what the florist is hiding under his dark glasses? Will Crowley trust him enough to show it?

Notes

Already the end of this story.

But the story of the florist and the book seller is far from over, after all this is only the beginning, they have so much to learn about each other and with each other.

On Ao3

Rating T - 4192 words

Chap 1 - Chap 2 - Chap 3 - Chap 4

"You know Crowley, as much as I look forward to seeing your creations, it's you and not the flowers I'm coming for."

Aziraphale felt the heat spread across his cheeks at the memory of the last words he'd said to Crowley before leaving the flower shop the day before.

What had possessed him to actually say that?

Of course, he hadn't said anything he didn't mean, but it still sounded a little flirtatious. Well, for all he knew, it had been so long since he'd done that. If there was such a thing.

Anyway, he couldn't take his words back, and Crowley hadn't canceled their date, so all he had to do was wait until the evening.

What he was sure of was that it would be an extremely long day until then.

If Aziraphale was honest with himself, he hadn't felt such anticipation since... since... in fact, it was probably the first time he'd ever felt this way.

It was clear that after the way he'd been treated by his own family, his self-esteem wasn't exactly high, which didn't exactly make him want to form more intimate bonds with anyone. There was always something lurking deep inside him, the fear that there might be an ounce of truth in what his siblings thought of him.

But without really being able to explain it, there was something about the florist that made him want to take a risk. Like a special connection, a feeling deep inside that they were the same.

Aziraphale, like most other street shopkeepers, was observant.

You could say it was the primary quality they used to feed their gossip, but if you had a well-established shop on the street, you got into the habit of observing the people around you, if only to observe the potential customer or to find out what they might like - well, not in Aziraphale's case, who was neither trying to attract customers nor to give them what they came for.

Although Aziraphale had observed Crowley for none of these reasons, he had seen that beneath the florist's lanky, nonchalant, sometimes grumpy demeanor, there was someone deeply kind who, for some strange reason, always tried to hide it. Which, of course, only made him more attractive and intriguing to the bookseller.

He'd seen the way Crowley was friendly with his assistant - he still wondered what their relationship was - he'd seen the way he tended to the flowers, he'd seen the way he quickly made himself appreciated by one street shopkeeper to another.

Of course, he'd also seen the way his beautiful red hair caught the light, the way his slim figure was accentuated by his black clothes, and he'd dreamed of seeing what lay behind those dark glasses.

His phone vibrating in his jacket pocket snapped him out of his thoughts. He flipped it open and read the message from Maggie.

Hello Mr. Fell

He really had to remind Maggie to call him by his first name; after all, she had more of a right to do so than the others, since his grandfather and the younger woman's grandmother had been close friends.

This morning I received a batch of records that I think you might be interested in. Before I put them up for sale, would you like to take a look at them?

PS: All this, of course, accompanied by a cup of tea.

Aziraphale had barely finished reading the message before he put on his jacket and coat and walked out of the bookstore, striding briskly toward the record store. Moments later, he walked through the door and greeted Maggie with a broad smile.

"Good morning, Maggie!"

Maggie emerged from the back of the store, two cups of tea in hand, which she placed on the counter before exclaiming, "Mr. Fell! You were quick!"

Aziraphale shook his head and said gently, "Maggie, come on, I've already told you to call me Aziraphale. After all, given our grandparents' friendship, we're like family, aren't we?"

She nodded with a shy little smile and murmured, "Okay, I'll try, A- Aziraphale."

Aziraphale exclaimed, "That's the spirit!" before approaching the counter.

Maggie showed him the stack of records, and the bookseller could see that there were indeed several items that interested him.

They chatted about the records for a long time and their cups were long emptied when Maggie asked in a shy voice, "Mr. Fell... uh, Aziraphale, I know I'm probably intruding, but..."

Aziraphale couldn't hold back a laugh, for Maggie had far more scruples than most of the other gossips on the street.

He said quietly, "Go ahead Maggie, I'm listening."

Maggie asked him bluntly, "Is it true you invited the florist to dinner at Justine's tonight?"

Aziraphale hadn't expected the news to spread so quickly.

It was only 10 in the morning, for God's sake.

He immediately replied, "First of all, I wasn't the one who made the invitation, and secondly, how do you know about it?"

Maggie replied a little sheepishly, "Well, I ran into Justine at Mr. Arnold's and she was very happy to announce that she had a reservation for you and Crowley."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and muttered, "Wonderful, I guess everyone knows..."

Maggie replied with a half smile, "Uh, not Mr. Brown. But then again, if you wanted to keep it a secret, you'd have had to book somewhere else."

She wasn't wrong, but at the same time it was a bit like neutral ground, and both would be in familiar surroundings for a first date.

Wait a minute, it was a first date, right?

But what if it was just to say thank you?

The florist had never said that-

"Aziraphale? Are you okay?"

Maggie had put her hand on the bookseller's forearm and looked at him with a slightly worried expression.

The bookseller reassured her, " Yes, yes, everything's fine," before adding as if to himself, "I'm just a little out of my comfort zone and asking myself a lot of questions, but I think I'll be fixed tonight."

"Fixed?"

Aziraphale shook his head and replied, "Nothing, don't worry."

He picked up the records he'd chosen, stood up and added, "Well, time for me to go, have a nice day, my dear Maggie, and thank you again, for the records and for the tea."

Maggie shook her head and replied, "It's me who thanks you, Mr. F- Aziraphale."

As he stepped through the door, he heard her add quietly, "I'm happy for you. I hope you have a wonderful evening."

The bookseller stammered out a thank you before walking directly to his bookshop, looking straight ahead, not wanting to catch the eye of any of the street gossips.

In any case, the record harvest he'd just made at Maggie's would allow him to pass the time more quickly and forget for a moment the questions that nagged at him about the upcoming dinner.

What he didn't know was that a florist not far from here was going through the same emotional roller coaster and asking himself almost the same questions.

After finishing the last arrangement for the restaurant the next day, Crowley went to put it with the others in the cold storage room reserved for flower storage, then decided to take a short break.

He untied his apron, tossed it carelessly on the counter and made his way to Nina.

No sooner had he stepped through the door than the coffee shop owner called out to him, "Well, well, the number of times you come here, people are going to think there's something fishy going on between us."

Crowley replied in the same tone, "Not even at gunpoint, sorry, but you're absolutely not my type, Nina."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, your type is a nice and soft bookseller." She approached Crowley and leaned toward him, whispering, "And I feel like things have moved on since yesterday, huh?"

Crowley narrowed his eyes and asked, "What do you mean?"

I may have heard from Maggie, who heard from Justine at Mr. Arnold's, that you'll be dining in charming company at Justine's restaurant tonight.

Crowley murmured, "I should have guessed. I know, even though I've only been here a few months, that gossip travels faster than the wind on this street."

Nina smiled back, "Yeah, that's what happens when you live in a place where people care about each other."

Crowley retorted, "I don't call it caring, I call it meddling."

Nina shrugged and said softly, "You can call it that, but what I do know is that when I arrived here a year ago, I was in a bad place, coming out of a bad relationship, and I can tell you that if certain people here had not, as you say, meddled in my life, I would not be where I am today. Comfortable in my shoes, in a relationship with someone who respects me and in whom I have absolute confidence."

She looked in the direction of the record store and continued in a barely audible voice, "And who I love."

Crowley chuckled softly and said, " Aw, Nina, I had no idea you were such a sap."

Before Nina could reply, he put the change on the counter, grabbed his coffee and headed for the door, happy to be the one leaving with the upper hand.

On his way out, he couldn't help but glance toward the bookshop and was surprised to see Aziraphale, cup in hand, chatting with Mutt.

Before he had time to think, Crowley raised his hand and waved in Aziraphale's direction, whose face, to the florist's delight, lit up with a broad smile as he waved back.

Needless to say, Crowley's mood was extremely upbeat as he entered the flower shop.

He dropped into a chair in the corner of the shop, and as he sipped his coffee, he couldn't help but think again about the upcoming date.

For it was a date, wasn't it?

Wait, what if this was Aziraphale's way of apologizing?

What if he'd only accepted Crowley's invitation out of pity?

"Anthony J. Crowley, you're going to do me the favor of not thinking what you're thinking right now."

Crowley turned to Muriel, who was descending the stairs, and replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Muriel raised an eyebrow and replied, "Oh, me, I know exactly what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the fact that you're wondering if this is a date, what the bookseller's motives are, all the questions I know you're asking yourself because you're scared."

"Me, I'm scared?"

Muriel came to stand before him and replied, "Oh, yes, you're scared. And you know what you have to do?"

Crowley said cheekily, "Go ahead, tell me, you who have all the answers."

Muriel shook their head, knowing that Crowley was just trying to put up a front, and replied, "Ask him. Before you go to dinner. Just ask him. And even if the answer isn't what you want, at least you'll know where you're going."

Crowley took a sip of coffee, took the time to think before replying more gently, "You're probably right. I'll do that."

"I'm always right, big brother."

In a now familiar motion, Crowley grabbed the water sprayer and doused Muriel.

They cried out, "Eric, come save me!"

Crowley turned his head toward the shop door and saw that Eric was indeed there.

"My goodness, we've been seeing a lot of you around here lately."

Muriel punched Crowley lightly and admonished him, "Be nice, will you?"

Crowley raised an eyebrow and asked, "What's your sweetheart doing here?"

Muriel replied as they walked over to Eric, "You're going to dinner at Justine's and we're going to lunch there."

Then, they grabbed Eric's hand and pulled him behind them as they left the store.

Crowley watched them go, hoping he'd come back the same way with Aziraphale.

Aziraphale glanced at his pocket watch for the tenth time in five minutes, complaining to himself that time wasn't moving any faster as the meeting approached. However, that didn't stop him from jumping at the sound of a light knock on the door of the bookshop.

He grabbed his coat and went to open the door, greeting Crowley with a broad smile.

The florist said softly, "Good evening, Aziraphale."

"Good evening, Crowley."

Aziraphale was about to put on his coat when Crowley grabbed it to help him put it on.

The bookseller, touched by the other man's gallant gesture, said kindly, "Thank you, my dear. Shall we go?"

He saw Crowley bite his lip before he said hesitantly, "Before we go, I'd like to ask you something."

At the florist's serious look, Aziraphale replied gently, "I'm listening."

"Is this a date?"

Not expecting such a direct question, Aziraphale's instinct was to reply, "Do you want it to be?"

But he immediately changed his mind, he didn't want to play this kind of game, no pretense, no guesswork, no half-truths.

He muttered to himself, "Fight like you can win."

"What?"

Aziraphale looked Crowley in the eye as best he could through the dark glasses and said in a clear, firm voice, "This is a date."

This time there was no mistaking the look of relief that crossed the florist's face, and Aziraphale knew he'd been right to choose the path of honesty.

Crowley, with a slightly crooked smile, said wryly, "There's just one problem."

Aziraphale looking puzzled asked, "Which one?"

"It's been so long for me, I have no idea what to do anymore."

Aziraphale chuckled slightly before replying, "Well, at least we're on the same page. I think we'll figure it out together."

Both men laughed slightly, both in amusement and relief.

They had only taken a few steps toward the restaurant when Crowley muttered, "Is it me, or do I feel watched?"

The bookseller chuckled and replied, "Welcome to Gossip Street, the street where everyone knows what everyone else is doing, or at least thinks they do."

Then his expression turned serious again, and as he moved away from Crowley, he said softly, "Unless you'd rather people didn't know."

Crowley moved closer, gave him a little nudge on the shoulder, and said in an amused tone, "I think it's too late for that, and besides, I'm the one who invited you, right?"

Moments later, they were ushered to their table by Justine and were pleased to see that the restaurant owner had reserved an isolated table for them, which would give them some privacy.

As they sat down, Aziraphale exclaimed, looking absolutely ecstatic, "Crowley, this is truly exquisite!"

Pointing to the flower arrangement in the center of the table, he continued, "What harmony and delicacy!"

Crowley, blushing, grumbled, "Don't exaggerate, they're just flowers."

Seeing Crowley's modesty, Aziraphale wondered what other hidden qualities the florist possessed and, placing a hand on his arm, replied gently, "I'm not exaggerating, I really mean it, you've done a magnificent job. But now I'm curious, how did you get into this business?"

Overcoming his embarrassment, Crowley told him about the orphanage and the old gardener and Muriel, and although they hadn't known each other long, he found it easy to open up. Aziraphale listened and asked questions from time to time, laughing at some of the anecdotes from his childhood with Muriel.

They paused to order and barely interrupted when the waiter brought their plates.

"And so I'm here today."

Crowley put down his fork to take a sip of wine and met Aziraphale's gaze, who smiled softly. The bookseller waited until he had put down his glass, laid his hand on Crowley's on the table, and said gently, "I hope you are proud of yourself, of what you have accomplished."

Seeing the sincerity in Aziraphale's eyes and expression, Crowley simply accepted the other man's words and said nothing, just nodded.

Then he tilted his head and asked him gently, "And how did Aziraphale become a bookseller?"

It was Aziraphale's turn to tell of his journey, and though he toned down certain parts, Crowley was sharp enough to see that there was more to it than the bookseller was letting on.

They were just finishing their dessert when Aziraphale finished his story, "So, I'm a bookseller who doesn't sell books, I have enough to live on without doing anything for the rest of my life, and..." he lowered his head before adding under his breath, "I don't do anything I can be proud of."

"I beg to differ."

He looked up at Crowley, who was looking at him kindly, and shook his head, wanting to withdraw his hand, but the florist turned his underneath and caught Aziraphale's to hold it back as he added, "Really. You're a very nice person, you know that?"

"I don't know what makes you say that..."

Crowley pressed his hand into his and replied softly, "So many things..."

He listed what he'd witnessed since he'd arrived on the street, ending with the little girl who'd lost her mother a few days ago.

At the end of his list, Aziraphale shook his head and protested, "But that's nothing."

Crowley, stroking the back of the bookseller's hand with his thumb, said gently, "It's a lot for the person you're doing it for."

They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds, aware that something special was happening, but unfortunately the moment was interrupted when the waiter brought the bill.

Crowley withdrew his hand and Aziraphale immediately felt the lack of its warmth and, to keep a straight face, reached into his pocket for his wallet when Crowley shook his head and said quietly, "I'm the one who invited you, so the bill's on me.

Azirapahle retorted, ""Then next time it'll be on me."

Realizing the implication of what he'd just said, he watched with pleasure as Crowley nodded with a small smile on his lips.

"Actually, this time it's on me, gentlemen."

They looked up at Justine who was picking up the bill from the table as she added, "It's to thank you," she looked at Crowley and continued, "You for your gorgeous arrangements and you..." she turned her head to Aziraphale before finishing, "For generously providing me with several wines of the finest vintages from your cellar so that I could have an excellent wine list."

Crowley winked at Aziraphale and mouthed, "Nothing to be proud of, hm?" then they thanked Justine and got up to leave the restaurant, noticing that it was almost empty as it was five minutes before closing time.

As they walked slowly toward the bookshop, they were much closer than they had been at the beginning of the evening, and with each step their shoulders and arms brushed against each other, but neither of them could bring themselves to make the gesture that would close the distance between their hands.

They arrived in front of the bookshop and Aziraphale opened the door before turning back to Crowley, who said quietly, "I had an excellent evening."

Aziraphale nodded and seemed to want to say something, but thought better of it, so the florist added, "Good night, Aziraphale," then turned to leave, but couldn't because Aziraphale was holding him by the sleeve.

He turned to him and said quietly, "Aziraphale?"

The bookseller asked breathlessly, "Would you like a nightcap?"

Crowley, who didn't mind appearing eager, nodded immediately and was rewarded by Aziraphale's smile before turning to enter the bookstore.

Once inside, Aziraphale told him to make himself comfortable and went to the back of the shop to get a bottle and glasses.

Crowley saw the plant he'd given the bookseller sitting neatly on the desk and walked over to it before leaning over and whispering, "You better grow tall and green or you know what will happen."

He straightened quickly at the sound of Aziraphale's laugh and turned to face him as the bookseller set the glasses and bottle of scotch on the coffee table.

Aziraphale said in an amused tone, "I've heard that you talk to your plants, but not that you threaten them. Tell me, what happens to it if it doesn't do what you tell it?"

Crowley walked over to him and whispered in his ear, "I let them think I would throw away any plant that had a flaw."

This made Aziraphale laugh even harder, much to Crowley's delight.

Then he saw Aziraphale's expression turn serious and the bookseller asked softly, "You don't have to answer if you don't want to talk about it, but... why are you wearing sunglasses all the time?"

Crowley lost his smile and moved away from Aziraphale, turning toward the window.

He heard Aziraphale approach and the bookseller put a hand on his shoulder before saying soothingly, "I'm sorry, Crowley, I didn't mean to..."

"You...you're allowed to ask the question, I...I have a very specific eye color. It... I hear it happens sometimes. It's been a long source of ridicule and annoyance in my past. People either laughed at me or called me a freak. So I decided to hide them, preferring to be mocked for my glasses than for something I can't change, something that is me."

Aziraphale placed his other hand on the florist's other shoulder and, with a light press, made him turn around.

He asked quietly, "You know me. You even said I was a nice guy. So you know I wouldn't make fun of you or call you a freak. Will you show me?"

Crowley shook his head slowly and said under his breath, "I don't want you to see me any differently.

Aziraphale raised his hand and placed it gently on Crowley's chest before saying, "I know who you are here, and your eye color won't change that. I swear."

Then he raised his hand further and laid it gently on the florist's cheek, adding in the same soft tone, "I intend to kiss you, and I want to look into your eyes before I do."

Crowley let out a long breath before murmuring, "Okay..."

Then Aziraphale placed his fingertips on the side of Crowley's glasses and asked softly, "May I?"

The florist swallowed before nodding slowly.

Aziraphale carefully removed the glasses to see that Crowley had instinctively closed his eyes. So he lightly stroked his eyelid with his thumb and said in a coaxing tone, "Show me, please."

Crowley gave in and then opened his eyes, holding his breath.

"Gorgeous."

The bookseller's face was so close to his own that Crowley could not doubt the sincerity he read in his eyes and heard in his voice as Aziraphale added, "What a shame you have to hide them."

Overwhelmed with emotion, Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale and held him to his chest, unconcerned as his sunglasses crashed to the floor.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the florist's waist in turn, waiting a few moments for Crowley to calm down before gently pushing him away. He then raised his hands to frame his face, and with his eyes on Crowley's beautiful amber ones, glistening with unshed tears, he grinned and asked, "May I have my kiss now?"

Crowley, his voice still a little hoarse with emotion, cheekily replied, "I've shown you my eyes, that's the least you can do."

Aziraphale chuckled lightly before pulling Crowley's face to his and, closing the distance between their mouths, gently pressed his lips to the florist's.

It was only a brush of lips at first, but the feel of Crowley's lips against his was enough to overwhelm Aziraphale with emotion. Crowley slid his hand down Aziraphale's neck to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Aziraphale parted his lips and Crowley's tongue slid along his lower lip, sending an electric shiver down Aziraphale's spine. As Crowley's tongue continued to explore his mouth, all of Aziraphale's senses seemed to awaken and he felt almost dizzy, clinging even tighter to the florist's shoulders.

Crowley, sensing how overwhelmed Aziraphale was, stepped back a little so they could catch their breath. Then, as if he couldn't help himself, Aziraphale brought his lips close again, delicately caressing Crowley's in another kiss.

They continued kissing like this for long minutes, not trying to go any further, just enjoying the kiss, their lips and bodies touching, getting to know each other, becoming familiar.

Much later, without really knowing when they'd moved, they were catching their breath on the sofa, Aziraphale snuggled up against Crowley, his head on the florist's chest as he ran his long fingers through his hair, noting that it felt as fluffy as it looked.

He said softly, "I'll repeat what I said earlier, I had an excellent evening."

Aziraphale laughed softly against his chest and, feeling bold, replied, "Hopefully the first of many."

Crowley, of course, hearing the slight uncertainty in the bookseller's voice, replied in a clear voice as he held him closer, "Don't doubt it."

He felt Aziraphale smile against his chest as the bookseller curled up even tighter against him.

Eyes on the small plant resting on Aziraphale's desk, Crowley told himself that they were a bit like it, and with care, a little water, a little light, they'd surely grow into something precious and last a long time.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Chap 1 - Chap 2 - Chap 3 - Chap 4

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #human au #alternate universe #flower shop

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sendmetosanfran · 4 months

Text

Let Me Try Again pt. 3

Aziraphale had returned to Heaven for a few weeks. He couldn’t stay at the bookshop forever, despite how much Crowley might wish for that. Crowley had been left alone with Muriel, who was still confused about what was happening. They stood nervously at the counter while Crowley wandered around, straightening books.

“May I ask a question?” They asked, drawing the demon’s attention. Crowley turned and looked at the angel for a moment.

“No, you can’t sell any of the books. Yes, I know it’s strange for a shop to not want to sell anything,” he replied. That was the majority of Muriel’s questions. He was hedging his bets that that was what they were going to ask.

“It’s not that… It’s really none of my business. I should keep it to myself, I suppose,” they said as they fiddled with a loose piece of paper on the counter. Crowley furrowed his brow as he walked closer. His hands rested against the counter as he leaned against it.

“You obviously want to know,” he stated. “If it’s really none of your business, I just won’t answer. I’m not one to keep people from asking questions.”

“Alright. I was just wondering how an angel and a demon became so close,” they stated. Crowley smirked and patted them on the shoulder.

“You’re easy enough to talk to. Who wouldn’t get close to you?” Crowley joked. He knew what they meant, but it was fun to watch how Muriel’s smile twitched. They were obviously flattered. Crowley assumed the angel had never been given much attention, much less compliments. “I’m assuming you mean me and Aziraphale?”

“Yes… That’s what I meant,” they replied, nerves creeping up on them. Perhaps they shouldn’t have said anything.

“Well, that’s a long story, really. It’s longer than I’m able to tell,” Crowley replied before placing his hands on his hips. He blew out a bit of air as he thought of the best way to answer. “I suppose it comes down to being friends for a very long time. Once you’ve spent enough time with a person, you learn more about them than you do yourself. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah… Well,” Muriel replied before smiling sheepishly and looking away. “Not really. I’m sure it would if I had more people to talk to. You see, I’ve been by myself for a long while. Taking care of filing and whatnot. Well, the files I’m allowed to see that is. They don’t trust me with everything just yet.” Crowley gave a warm smile the best he could to them.

“I’m sure while you’re here on Earth, you’ll find your own friend. You’ve certainly got the demeanor for it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Crowley. That does mean a lot. That’s something I worry about sometimes.”

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” he stated, patting a hand on their shoulder once more. “I’ve got some stuff to take care of in the back. Will you be alright up here?”

“I’ll be fine,” they answered and watched as Crowley walked into the back of the shop. Crowley hummed to himself. He started by making a pot of coffee for himself. There was some organizing that he wanted to take care of before Aziraphale returned. For as much as the angel cared for these books, he certainly left them in a pile. That was no good. Crowley intended to get everything out of the floor and onto a shelf. Come to think of it, he would have to make some more shelves appear before too long.

While he got to work, he was unaware of Aziraphale entering the bookshop. The angel took off his coat with a sigh. He placed it carefully onto his coat rack and gave a smile to Muriel. They returned the gesture with a small wave.

“Mr. Crowley is in the back,” Muriel stated. They knew Aziraphale would want to know that his friend was here. He gave a nod before walking to the back.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale called when he found the room the demon was in. He stopped in the doorway when he heard Crowley humming to himself. Aziraphale watched as he placed books on the shelf, keeping a tune to himself. Heat came to Aziraphale’s cheeks as he looked at the way the muscles shifted in Crowley’s back as he went about his business. He shook his head before walking closer.

Crowley was still none the wiser that the angel was coming towards him. The footsteps were quiet enough that his humming drowned him out. Aziraphale hesitated as he reached towards the other man. He didn’t want to startle him. Perhaps if he said his name again.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said quietly, his hand touching the demon’s back. Crowley still swore and jumped before turning around quickly.

“Aziraphale, when did you get back?” Crowley questioned, straightening his shirt. It wasn’t out of place, but the action made him feel less embarrassed about being startled.

“Just now. I thought you heard me when I came in. I’m sorry for interrupting what you were doing,” Aziraphale answered softly. His eyebrows twitched as a thought occurred to him. “Speaking of which. What are you doing?”

“Oh, what am I doing?” Crowley said as he looked down at the book in his hand. Despite his intention to get this place cleaned up, he never thought what it would be like to actually tell Aziraphale what he had been doing.

“Just straightening up a bit.”

“Oh, well, I appreciate that,” Aziraphale stated. He clenched and unclenched his hands. Crowley cleared his throat. They were both aware of the awkward feeling between them. What were they supposed to do? Hug? Kiss? Ignore the greeting completely?

“So, how’s the plan going?” Crowley finally asked. It eased some of the tension.

“Rather well, actually. They haven’t been able to settle on a woman to be the mother. There was a close call. I couldn’t think of anything to say that she had done, but it turned out that she’d had her tubes removed. There’s only so much of a miracle that we can pull before people get suspicious,” he said. Crowley gave him a small smile and shifted a bit closer.

“Would be hard to explain that one,” Crowley responded. There was another long silence as the two pondered what to continue with. “So… You think this’ll blow over by itself?”

“I don’t know about that, but I think it may be less complicated than we originally thought,” he replied. “And I was thinking that we could go and get something to nibble on. Would you be interested?” Crowley grinned at that one.

“Is this because you’re hungry or because this is another attempt to woo me?” Crowley questioned. Aziraphale rolled his eyes at the comment.

“Maybe it’s because there’s no food in Heaven, and I would like my friend to accompany me. I was thinking about that little sushi place down the road,” the angel stated. The thought of a nice tuna roll greatly overshadowed his annoyance.

“Hmm. Shame it’s not a date,” Crowley gave a dramatic sigh, making Aziraphale’s lips press together in a flat line. “I don’t think I’ve ever been properly asked out on a date.” He kept his gaze away from Aziraphale as he made a frowning face. He wouldn’t be able to seem serious if he made eye contact. It would be too tempting to laugh.

“Crowley, what on earth are we doing right now?” The angel questioned. He knew the demon was having fun with this, but he was unsure why.

“Not dating, apparently.”

“Oh, bugger. What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing, angel. I’m tickety boo,” Crowley replied. His mirth got the better of him. He looked back at Aziraphale and gave him a large grin. Aziraphale seemed unimpressed by the theft of his use of ‘tickety boo.’ “Alright, I’m done now. Yes, I would like to go to this sushi place with you… Do they have good sake?”

“I’ve heard it’s very good,” Aziraphale answered before clearing his throat.

“But, since you made a fuss about this.”

“Oh, bugger. I’ve pushed my luck, haven’t I?”

“Would you, Anthony J. Crowley, accompany me on a date?” He asked, voice wavering on the last word. Aziraphale watched the slightly stunned look take over the demon’s face before a pink tint covered his cheeks. Aziraphale was tempted to tease, but he feared his face had the same coloration. There was a short pause as Crowley collected himself.

“I-I would, um. I would like that very much,” the demon finally answered. His heart fluttered. Aziraphale had assumed that they had already gone on dates, but Crowley had never gotten the message. It was very different when he knew the true intention.

“I’m glad. Perhaps it would have been better with flowers. I’ll have to bring you something next time, dear,” the angel responded. Crowley swallowed thickly.

“There’s actually something that I would like to give you, angel. A bit of a welcome back, even though I know you aren’t staying very long,” Crowley stated. The angel seemed confused as Crowley moved a bit closer.

“You didn’t have to do anything for me, Crowley,” he responded. Crowley stood very close to him now, but he did not back away. He just tilted his head to look upwards. His face heated at realizing what he truly meant.

“Oh.”

Aziraphale waited patiently as Crowley leaned closer to him. There was something about how he moved that seemed fearful. Perhaps he feared that Aziraphale would run away or say he was moving too fast again. The angel didn’t want him to back away. Aziraphale lifted a hand and placed it on Crowley’s cheek, his thumb tracing over his cheekbone gently.

“It’s okay, dear,” Aziraphale said softly. Crowley pressed closer. The angel could feel the warmth of his breath against his lips. He was tempted to close the gap but let the demon finish what he had started. Crowley kissed him gently, keeping his mouth still. Aziraphale did the same. They knew the kiss was awkward, but they had to start somewhere.

Crowley eventually pulled away, red-faced and shaky hands. He wished he had done better. It wasn’t like he had never kissed anyone before. Hell, he had kissed Aziraphale before, but that had been rushed. He hadn’t had time to think about it before. Now, his nerves were getting the better of him.

“That was lovely, Crowley,” Aziraphale said with a soft smile. Crowley let out a huff, feeling his jitters starting to retreat.

“I appreciate the lie, angel. It’ll be better the next time. I promise,” Crowley stated. A part of him was relieved that Aziraphale would spare his feelings the way he had. The rest was a bit giddy that he even had the opportunity to kiss him. “Now, then. We have to get to dinner. You must be hungry after not having anything to eat for a few weeks.

“I am getting a bit peckish,” Aziraphale responded. He took the demon’s hand in his before they headed out the door. Muriel waved goodbye to them and silently wondered why Crowley was grinning like a madman.

#good omens #fanfiction #crowley #aziraphale #kiss #awkward kiss #ineffable husbands

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ineffablyruined · 7 months

Text

In Defense of an Angel

I know this has probably been done before, but I'm working on a fic at the moment and found myself needing to puzzle out where I think Aziraphale is coming from in that last 15 minutes. He's catching a lot of heat in the fandom right now, even from me initially I admit, but I think I understand more after trying to put myself in his head. It got a bit long, so I've put most of it under a Read More.

We all generally agree that there was zero chance that the Crowley we all know and love was going to be allowed back into Heaven, right? At the very least, he would have been memory wiped and reset as the innocent angel we saw Before the Beginning, and at the very worst, Metatron would have permanently destroyed him before actually welcoming him back. I mean, this face isn't the face of someone who is going to just let Crowley come back to the fold, no matter what lies he's about to tell Aziraphale.

But, sweet summer's child Aziraphale, religious trauma and all, has no idea that the Metatron has exactly zero intention of letting Crowley accompany him to Heaven.

So when he says, "The Metatron said I could appoint you to be an angel," he means it. You. Not the angel you were. Not some innocent carbon copy from millennia ago.

He fully, completely believes Crowley will just be Crowley, but as an angel. He doesn't believe Crowley will have to change at all. And why should he?

Because Aziraphale is keenly aware that you don't have to be good to be an angel. Look at him. (Thanks to @saryasy for all the perfect gifs)

He's spent most of his existence being a terrible angel, just like Crowley has been an absolute disaster of a demon. They are cut from the same cloth.

And if the Metatron is going to make the angel who lies over and over again to God, to archangels, to himself, into the Supreme Archangel, then surely there's room for a demon who regularly engages in truly good acts as well, right?

And it's the solution to all of their problems. They will be on the same side, not just in their eyes, but in Heaven's eyes, and in God's eyes. They won't have to hide anymore, won't have to be so careful about admitting they are even friends, can be something more. Because now it won't be Romeo & Juliet.

They can be together. Properly together. Doing good the way they've always done, together. Importantly, without the risks! Crowley won't have to worry about retribution from Hell. There won't be any from Heaven because Aziraphale will be the Supreme Archangel and no one can tell him no.

And that's why he's so confused that Crowley's saying no. And he tries.

Because Crowley can't possibly understand or he wouldn't be saying no.

But then he does. He says he understands, that he understands better than Aziraphale does, and the answer is still no. He says no. And what can Aziraphale do with that?

He's been rejected. And there's nothing else to say.

Then it gets worse. Crowley points out, "No nightingales." And we can see that they both know exactly what that means. For Crowley to point that out and to kiss him after rejecting him feels, at best, manipulative and, at worst, downright cruel. Aziraphale just offered a safe way for them to be together, and Crowley wants no part of it if it isn't the way he wants it - just the two of them going off together - even when he knows and has been explicitly told over and over again that Aziraphale doesn't do running away.

And if Crowley is going to be cruel with his words and actions, then so can Aziraphale.

And he knows - HE KNOWS - what those words are. How they call back to the other times they've gone their separate ways. And he says them anyway. Because Crowley hurt him and he's going to hurt him back.

He's spent lifetimes reading books, collecting them, coveting them. Of course he can wield words as deftly as any weapon.

(Sorry for the emphasis there, but I'm particularly proud of that turn of phrase. I wrote it for a fic I'm working on and it's what made me do this whole thought exercise in the first place.)

FWIW, he then immediately regrets it when Crowley leaves. See this post highlighting all the times Aziraphale just keeps looking for him in the fallout.

#good omens meta #gomens meta #final 15 minutes #good omens spoilers #go2 spoilers #go2e6 #good omens #aziraphale #character study: Aziraphale #go2 #fic planning #aziraphale gifs #ineffable idiots #the divorce #good omens s2 meta #goodomensmeta #good omens season 2 spoilers

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what-gs-watching · 11 days

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If you wanna break my cold, cold heart...

It’s become very clear to me that I’m extremely lost in The Tortured Poet’s Department which I absolutely expected and it’s no fucking wonder my two hyperfixations are colliding. Because after ugly crying through it the first few handful of times about my own life, I’m now just telegraphing that emotion onto a tv character, which is super healthy.

Seriously though, is anyone else imagining Crowley somehow becoming obsessed with this album while he’s still trying to work through Aziraphale fucking off back to heaven?! Baby girl full on alternately sobbing and manically laughing in the back of the Bentley while Taylor Swift makes him feel hella seen? Compiling his own playlist of the tracks that just strip him raw?

Which, in my mind, have got to be -

“Down Bad”

For a moment I knew cosmic love… / Now I’m down bad, crying at the gym / Everything comes out teenage petulance / Fuck it if I can’t have him. / I might just die, it would make no difference. / Down bad waking up in blood / Staring at the sky, come back and pick me up / Fuck it if I can’t have us / I might not just get up, I might stay down bad…

Obvi the go-to track when he just wants to wallow in it. Just like drowning his sorrows in that pub after the angel was discorporated during the first Armageddon, ‘fuck it if I can’t have us’. Hard Crowley vibes.

“My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys”

There was a litany of reasons why / We could've played for keeps this time / I know I'm just repeating myself / Put me back on my shelf / But first - pull the string / And I'll tell you that he runs / Because he loves me. / Cause you should've seen him / When he first saw me…

My boy only breaks his favorite toys / I'm queen of sand castles he destroys / Cause I knew too much / There was danger in the heat of my touch / He saw forever so he smashed it up / Oh, my boy only breaks his favorite toys

I feel like this is their entire relationship; Aziraphale keeps him at arm’s length because it’s fucking dangerous but Crowley gets destroyed everytime. ‘He runs because he loves me’ - what a devastating thought. They both do, gang, and that’s so sad.

“So Long London”

And you say I abandoned the ship / But I was going down with it / My white knuckle dying grip / Holding tight to your quiet resentment and / My friends said it isn't right to be scared / Every day of a love affair / Every breath feels like rarest air / When you're not sure if he wants to be there

So how much sad did you think I had / Did you think I had in me? / How much tragedy? / Just how low did you think I'd go? / Before I'd self-implode / Before I'd have to go be free

This one has gotta be for those times that he’s ready to fight back a little bit, and feels pissed about how much he tried to keep their shit together. Aziraphale thinks he gave up, he thinks Aziraphale gave up, and sometimes he thinks about fucking off from London too. But he won’t. Hopefully?

“Guilty As Sin?”

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh / Only in my mind? / One slip and falling back into the hedge maze / Oh what a way to die / I keep recalling things we never did / Messy top lip kiss / How I long for our trysts / Without ever touching his skin / How can I be guilty as sin?

These fatal fantasies / Giving way to labored breath / Taking all of me / We've already done it in my head / If it's make believe / Why does it feel like a vow / We'll both uphold somehow?

What if I roll the stone away? / They're gonna crucify me anyway / What if the way you hold me / Is actually what's holy? / If long suffering propriety / Is what they want from me / They don't know how you've haunted me / So stunningly / I choose you and me … Religiously

Baby needs a song about longing. 6,000 years of longing. And uncertainty about whatever they are. This one screaaaams Crowley’s questions about the group of the two of them. It’s so painful. Also, you know, the whole ‘sin’ thing. They spent so much time never touching, but y’all know Crowley feels that guilt anyway. Oof.

ALSO, you know Aziraphale would be wrecked by this one too. I feel like the worst part about the two of them is they're both suffering the same thing, in agonizingly similar ways. They're both carrying that horrible guilt. It's gutwrenching.

“loml”

Oh, what a valiant roar / What a bland goodbye / The coward claimed he was a lion / I'm combing through the braids of lies / "I'll never leave" … / "Never mind" / Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire / Your arson's match your somber eyes / And I'll still see it until I die / You're the loss of my life

More sadness about Aziraphale’s departure. What a shit way to end things, what a cowardly path he took (in Crowley’s mind) after poor Crowley tried his absolute-fuckin’-best to put his heart on the line. Definitely 'the loss of my life.'

“The Black Dog”

Old habits die screaming / I move through the world with the heartbroken / My longings stay unspoken / And I may never open up the way I did for you / And all of those best laid plans / You said I needed a brave man / Then proceeded to play him / Until I believed it too / And it kills me / I just don't understand

Now I want to sell my house and set fire to all my clothes / And hire a priest to come and exorcize my demons / Even if I die screaming / And I hope you hear it

This one is definitely for those times when Crowley wants to scour Aziraphale from his existence but yo, a habit built over literally ALL OF TIME isn’t going to die just screaming. If it can even die at all.

“Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus”

You said some things that I can't unabsorb / You turned me into an idea of sorts / You needed me, but you needed drugs more / And I couldn't watch it happen / I changed into goddesses, villains, and fools / Changed plans and lovers and outfits and rules / All to outrun my desertion of you / And you just watched it

If you wanna break my cold, cold heart / Just say, "I loved you the way that you were" / If you wanna tear my world apart / Just say you've always wondered

Ya know our boy has guilt over letting Aziraphale go where he absolutely could not follow, and I feel like he’d probably spend a bunch of time trying to change a ton of things in his life just to avoid ‘the desertion of you’ but yooo, what cuts right to the core is ‘I love you the way that you were.’ All this poor demon wanted to hear, wants to hear.

“How Did it End?”

We were blind to unforeseen circumstances / We learn the right steps to different dances / And fell victim to interlopers' glances / Lost the game of chance, what are the chances?

It's happenin' again / How did it end? / I can't pretend like I understand / How did it end?

Definitely another one for wallowing. Have I found myself screeching out ‘how did it end?!’ everytime it comes up? Yes. And I feel like a drunk Crowley would too. ‘It’s happening again’ would definitely hit home to him, how many times have they been through this?

“The Prophecy”

But I looked to the sky and said / Please / I've been on my knees / Change the prophecy / Don't want money / Just someone who wants my company / Let it once be me / Who do I have to speak to / About if they can redo / The prophecy?

I'm so afraid I sealed my fate / No sign of soulmates / I'm just a paperweight / In shades of greige / Spending my last coin so someone will tell me / It'll be ok / Please

At some point it’s likely he figures out all of this was definitely always going to happen, right? Little snake has always been at the whims of the inevitable (ineffable), and all he ever tried to do was make his own choices but he’s stuck in circumstances he absolutely cannot change. This one is all about pleading. Bargaining phase, you know. But ‘just someone who wants my company’ absolutely kills me. Somebody tell this demon it’ll be okay.

And so yeah I’m imagining the Thin Dark Duke is just playing ALL of those on repeat forever, until he finally gets to this place:

“Imgonnagetyouback”

Whether I'm gonna be your wife or / Gonna smash up your bike, I / Haven't decided yet / But I'm gonna get you back

I hear the whispers in your eyes / I'll make you wanna think twice / You'll find that you were never not mine / You're mine

Bygones will be bygone eras fadin' into gray / We broke all the pieces but still want to play the game / Told my friends, "I hate you but I love you just the same" / Pick your poison, babe / I'm poison either way

Because you know it’s SO Crowley to be absolutely fucking furious at the end of it all, but resolved to get Aziraphale back under any circumstances. I love him running around with the energy of ‘Whether I'm gonna curse you out or take you back to my house, I haven't decided yet’ but he IS resolute in seeing his stupid angel again. This is as positive as he’s gonna get, and I love that for him.

Did I spend way too much time writing this out for absolutely no reason? Yes. But gang, I have to believe Taylor Swift can reach anyone, even ethereal entities. Joiiiiin the Tortured Poet’s Department, Crowley, you know you want to…

#good omens #crowley loves aziraphale #taylor swift #the tortured poets department #sad crowley #crowley x aziraphale #crowley's sad playlist

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sucrosette · 5 months

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★— ⋆｡˚ [New Things]

For Day 8 of Carry on Countdown 23, Sick. @carryon-countdown

Basil's nurse partner takes the best care of him when he's sick, even if he's a touch infuriating about how much he'd rather be working.

Rated T, for canon-typical banter and casually dropping the fuck bomb. Nothing really offensive though.

This is the second part of three I've planned for a Nurse/Lawyer AU for this CoC 🖤

⋆｡˚

“You’d think–” Simon calls from the kitchen, banging about in Baz’s cabinets, “My hot lawyer boyfriend would know when to cut his losses. I mean that’s half lawyering, isn’t it? Knowing when you can win or something. I’m pretty sure you’ve said so to me before~!”

Baz groans into his pillow, trying and failing to push himself out from under the covers. Simon wouldn’t be able to hear him if he tried to argue from this far across the house. Between Simon’s hearing, her habit of avoiding her aids in the house, and Baz’s voice being most of the way to gone, he’d have to at least be in the same room to stop her smug talk.

He manages to get up onto his knees, chest heaving with the effort, but before he can slide himself off the edge of the bed, Simon’s already beside him, gently but firmly shoving him back down onto the mattress. He looks utterly disappointed in Baz, but for all Baz tries to win the staring contest, he only manages to look a bit pitiful.

“Stop trying to fight the urge to rest, you twit,” Simon raps his fingers soft against Baz’s forehead, “You need more sleep. And I can’t be here to monitor you 24/7, as much as I’m sure you’d love that.”

Baz doesn’t miss her sarcasm. “Let me at least have my laptop,” he rasps out, a cough trailing at the tail end of his sentence.

“Absolutely not. You’ll end up on some conference call and then you’ll be researching for a new client, and then you’ll be putting together a case, and then it’ll be twelve hours later and you’ll be that much more worse for wear,” Simon shakes his head as he says it, only reinforcing his position.

“What am I supposed to do with myself if I’m not working?” It comes out more a whine than Baz cares to admit, but Simon pets through his hair in answer, the soft comfort easing the ache in his lungs, eyes fluttering closed momentarily.

“You have your books. The remote's right there for the tele. You’ll live without meetings for a couple of days, love. You know your boss already knows I’m going to rip her a new one if she lets you tune into work anyway.” Simon presses a kiss to his forehead, and then another, softer, “I have to go out for a bit. Promise me you’ll stay right here. And try and drink your tea too.”

Baz groans at the thought of swallowing, but he sits up enough to take his tea in hand and breathe in the steam rising from the cup. At least that much is soothing. He’s not quite up for the sipping part yet though. “Where are you going?” His voice is so tired, but he asks all the same, his neediness showing when he’d normally hide it.

“I’m got to get you more soup from Soph. And tea from that speciality place you require I get all your tea from. And honey, surprisingly, from a regular grocery–”

“Make sure it’s local at least,” Baz interrupts.

It only earns him an entirely unamused look, “–Local honey, from a regular grocery. And I’m going to call out again while I’m running errands your errands. I can’t really work with you like this.”

Basil huffs, finally bold enough to take that sip of tea, and he feels it all the way down his oesophagus, spreading out like ripples of heat over his chest, almost painfully. Crowley, he really was bloody weak right now. “You’ll come back soon?”

“As soon as I can, love,” Simon reassures, running her hand through his hair one more time before stepping back from the bed, “Take care of yourself for me, okay? No. Work.”

Simon’s face leaves no room for argument, so Baz just nods. He’s too bloody exhausted to argue much anyway. He figures he can at least finish his tea and maybe throw on something mindless to watch while he waits for his love to return.

Hell, Basil hates being this needy though.

⋆｡˚

At some point he must’ve fallen asleep, because Basil wakes up to a soft hand running over his arm and and a quiet hum. He’d been dreaming something nice, something soft, he just can’t quite grasp it in the moments of waking. He curls in closer to that warmth sitting on the bed, that soft voice of comfort, hands snaking out of the covers to wrap around Simon’s arm, clinging to it.

“Finally up then, babe?” Simon chimes at the contact, but Baz shakes his head, clinging tighter to that arm. “That’s alright. Have you been asleep all that time?”

Baz nods, cracking one eye open to look up at Simon before snapping it back shut. “Think so… everything aches.”

Simon’s spare hand presses coolly against Baz’s overheated forehead and a little displeased sound escapes him. “Well, let’s feed you. It’s been hours and you could use it. Also, Mordelia scoffed when she heard you didn’t have a heating pad and sent over hers with Sophie’s soup, so we can set that up for you after food, yeah?”

“Already so hot…” Baz grumbles, hating the idea of more of the same.

“I know, but we’ve got to do something for those aches, no? We’ll get you meds too, and once things settle down, you can toss it across the room for all I care,” Simon argues, annoyingly logical for her.

“Could do that for Mordy…” Basil huffs, “Send her a text for me? And Soph too…”

“Of course,” Simon agrees all too easily and Baz hums his own soft thanks, curling tighter around that hand. “Should we set you up to eat in here?”

Basil sighs all too loudly and there’s no mistaking the annoyance on his face at the thought, “The bed…”

“You’re so obsessive-compulsive sometimes,” Simon teases lightly, but there’s no fire behind it, only soothing familiarity, “I’ll bring in a chair. You can sit there for eating. I don’t think you could make it to your kitchen like this.”

“It’s only down the hall…”

“Am I wrong then?” Simon challenges Baz’s weak protest, only to be met with a shake of the head. “That’s what I thought. You’ll cooperate then, won’t you?”

“Regrettably,” Baz agrees again, rolling his eyes but fighting to sit himself up and drink the water Simon had side on the bedside table for him.

For all his huffing and puffing, Baz listens terribly well to Simon when it comes to the things he knows his partner knows better than him. Bloody fuck, she was a nurse professionally, of course she’d know how to treat a common cold better than him. The problem was simply that he was more used to taking care of himself and everyone else around him, rather than giving anyone an inch towards helping him.

Fuck.

He might be in love with her. They hadn’t said it yet. Basil’d been so cautious in it, but here Simon was, caring for him in every intimate way no one else had ever bothered to before. Baz was fairly certain this was love. And no, he wasn’t being delusional about that. He should say it soon. He’s going to have to say it soon, he decides, and despite the way his muscles were screaming in protest to his every move and despite the burn in his throat with every effort to work through Sophie’s soup, that decision at least feels good.

That little bit of serotonin pushes him the rest of the way through dinner, and through Simon Snow’s bad (or incredibly good, if technical) commentary on medical dramas. Baz is falling asleep with his head in Simon’s lap just about two episodes in, but with those soft touches over his hair and neck, it was only a matter of time. Simon’s fingers are so terribly tender with him, and they always are, his fingers are always precious with Baz, and there’s something new about that too. Unfamiliar, but in no way unwelcome.

He falls asleep when the third episode of Simon’s drama had only just started, but that was for the best. It was as his love had said, he needed the rest, and there’s no one else he’d rather be resting with.

#Carry On Countdown #COC 2023 #baz pitch #simon snow #snowbaz #carry on fanfiction #my writing #there's more of this to be posted #Bigender Nurse Simon Snow (He/She)#Lawyer Baz Pitch #general sickfic fluff #Reference to the extended Grimm family #technically this is part two

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edosianorchids901 · 1 year

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It's a Dry Heat

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "an eternal summer"

“You know,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully, “I always thought an eternal summer sounded lovely.”

It took a second for the words to register; Crowley had been desperately sucking down the remaining water in his canteen. When he got the few drops, he looked to Aziraphale. “Wot.”

“Eternal summer. You know, like in Shakespeare’s Sonnets?”

“I think that’s a metaphor, angel. Thy eternal summer. Youth. Not literal summer.”

“I know it’s a metaphor.” For a moment, Aziraphale just pouted at him. “But I still thought the real thing would be lovely. Such a nice change from the chill.”

Crowley held his canteen above his mouth and shook it, hard. No water left, though. “And now?”

“Well…” Expression still thoughtful, Aziraphale looked over the cracked, barren soil that stretched out lifelessly in every direction. “I don’t think that anymore.”

“Lucky for you this is only normal summer, then.” Snorting, Crowley shook his canteen again. But nope. Nothing. “I told you we shouldn’t leave the damn path and cut across the desert.”

“It’s all desert, dear boy.”

“The other desert areas had plants.” Which meant water. Here, not so much. There was nothing here.

Aziraphale heaved a dramatic sigh as they clambered over the next crumbling hill to be greeted by even more dry ground. “I told you we ought to have taken up those cattleboys on their offer.”

“Cowboys,” Crowley snapped.

“But no, you had no desire to ride horses…”

“Horses are wankers. And honestly, they’d probably be dying right about how. Horses need water more than we do.” Technically speaking, angels and demons didn’t need water at all. But he and Aziraphale were both used to drinking something regularly—tea, coffee, cocoa, alcohol—and the inability to do so made Crowley twitchy. “D’ya have any left?”

Aziraphale wiggled his canteen. “I’m afraid not. And we have absolutely no clue how far we are from greener lands. I fear we shall perish.”

“Fuck that. I’ve had enough of trudging across the desert.” Crowley drew a deep breath, gathering energy. And then, exhaling slowly, he manifested his wings.

Black feathers stretched to the sky, and he closed his eyes as the heat of the sun seeped through them. The sun felt terrible on his corporation, but wings were different. Closer to his true nature, that of the serpent, and the serpent liked basking in sunlight.

Aziraphale gave him a skeptical look. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

“Why not?” Crowley gave an experimental flap, and sand swirled around their feet.

“Well, someone might see us, for one thing.”

“Who’s gonna see us out here? We’re in the middle of nowhere.” Not leaving time for argument, Crowley blasted into the air.

He flew in one big loop above Aziraphale’s head before the angel’s white wings appeared, and another full loop before Aziraphale launched into the air and joined him. Crowley flashed a bright grin, and Aziraphale glared in response. “I-I still don’t think this is a good idea. I’m very out of practice.”

“Me too.” Crowley looped around him again, muscles aching as he flapped his wings, twisted, dove. But it was a good ache, and it felt damn good to stretch his wings after so long. “But it’s this or probably discorporate from heat stroke.”

“I don’t want to discorporate from heat stroke.”

The matter settled, Crowley launched himself forward. The desert zoomed past underneath, seeming almost like nothing now that they weren’t crossing it step by step. His mouth remained dry, lips cracked, and skin roasted by the sun. But in a way, this was almost enjoyable now.

He and Aziraphale had never gotten to do this before, to really fly together. Hadn’t known each other in Heaven, and even in the early days on Earth they hadn’t done much more than coast down from high places. But full out flight, riding air currents while turning to occasionally grin at each other, was way more fun than he could have guessed.

And then he spotted it, green up ahead, the glint of sunlight off water. “Down there!” he called to Aziraphale, veering towards it.

They rocketed over a ranch, and a couple faces turned up towards them. Whoops. Hopefully they’d just get to be the subjects of a cool legend or something. Crowley might start one himself when they got to a town.

Crowley’s legs buckled as soon as he hit the ground, fatigue slamming into him all at once. But he was right on the shore of a small lake, and he scrambled forward to it with relief. He plunged his hands into the water, splashed it across his face, and then scooped up more to drink.

The heat of the sun vanished a split second later, and he looked up to see a white wing stretched overhead. “Gosh. Thanks, angel.”

“Of course. This was an excellent idea, my dear. And in truth, I rather enjoyed our flight.” Aziraphale beamed at him, then knelt for his own drink.

The white wing remained outstretched, providing shade, and Crowley smiled. All in all, he and Aziraphale might argue their way through trouble. But even an eternal summer wouldn’t be so bad if he and Aziraphale could spend it together.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale

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mlobsters · 5 months

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supernatural s12e8 lotus (w. eugenie ross-leming, brad buckner)

i wanted to revisit that little lucifer!vince meltdown in 12x07 because i thought maybe i was too high to parse what was happening or something. i definitely misunderstood something, but the emotional content still doesn't make sense to me. anyway, details about partial confusion resolution

i didn't think anything was gonna top the leviathans in most loathed (but more in a boring way) villain but british men of letters are bringing the eye rolling heat.

CROWLEY Lucifer's not content with slutting it from one random vessel to the next. He's moving on to blue chips—celebrities, captains of industry. He just got a lot more dangerous. CASTIEL I agree with Agent Zappa. DEAN Oh, will you stop?

i laughed but like, it'd be more fun if cas was trying to rile him up instead of being in clueless robot mode. feels like we get a different cas every episode

there is something amusing about crossing this trope of the catholic church getting infiltrated by the devil and they try to exorcise him with the spn universe where lucifer and exorcism is all a very different kind of beast.

and now he's in the president, of course. they really have defanged lucifer. now he's getting the cartoon villain treatment too. mark played him on this edge of charisma and creepy and ... actually scary, in a way that he felt like a real, solid threat. who had done awful, awful things to our sam specifically, that left him deeply traumatized. anyway, it's not just switching actors, but this story they're wedging him into.

swift kick to the gut while i'm sitting here musing on a president leading a morning prayer that this aired in december 2016.

LUCIFER It's almost like I've never done that before.

???????

i also had a visceral hate of the rape references/"jokes" lucifer repeatedly made to sam (were they all hallucifer? imagine so) this makes ZERO sense. and also, what the fuck, is this a sitcom? oh the literal devil is feeling offkilter because he's just had sex for the first time teehee aww. WHAT

SAM Crowley, can we just get the damn news without the drama? CROWLEY Can I get you without the flannel? No. Still, I endure.

lol good one, crowley

look at me not overreacting about sam sneaking off to make an aborted phone call and trying to hide it. why the fuck is he calling the bad mol people though...???

having serious dick roman flashbacks with this lucifer plotline.

CASTIEL There's been a massive surge in celestial energy. A Nephilim is come into being. It's the offspring of an angel and a human. DEAN And that's big news? CASTIEL Yes, but the power to produce this is immense. It's much, much greater than a typical angel. SAM Lucifer. DEAN W— Lucifer? I didn't know he was dating.

again, are we in a sitcom? tone of the episode is really not meshing with the jokes they're going for, for me. is this gonna be the nephilim i've heard of?

SAM Do we have a plan? DEAN Impeach LOTUS and find Rosemary's Baby.

oh, silly me. i was thinking lotus the car brand, thought the episode might have some car-slant. lucifer of the united states 🥴

seeing them clearly in the car, outside, makes me realize just how much of the driving shown is at night (for production reasons, obviously)

required hair appreciation note. maybe i had to slog through some truly atrocious haircuts/styles and sideburns to fully appreciate getting here

god. i have such a kneejerk queasy reaction to take five by dave brubeck. my brief stint (during a really Bad Time in my life) at university i would kill time between classes at a place near this cd shop on campus. they played take five over and over and over and over. it's a great piece of music but it still immediately throws me back into this really miserable headspace.

that said, i do think it was used well in this scene. and that was a really good little action sequence, nice tight pacing. sam and dean's reaction to the explosion was really good and it felt like they were right there (and magically baby did not get damaged by the explosion right in her face). cas standing in front of it, unbothered, cliche but still fun. but then fucko had to start talking and i mentally checked out.

coulda had fucko drive up in a lotus but no, bentley 😔 probably harder to obtain a lotus in whatever, vancouver

hurray sam's furtive phone call to bad people already addressed in the same episode.

introducing all sorts of goofy ass weapons. sure, why not

is there a snappy name for this team-up?

CASTIEL The thing inside you, it's unholy. It's an abomination.

great. surely she's gonna want to keep the lucifer!baby then

the magical egg scene went on way too long. i guess it was supposed to be high stakes zapping lucifer back to the cage but god it's just all so not.

i really love how crowley's teleportation is silent, no vfx other than cutting so he's just gone. it's surprisingly effective. anyway, kind of hoping they can work out their problems. good pair

the whole dean being somewhat in awe that they got lucifer felt... i dunno. like ok so is this when we find out he didn't actually end up in the cage?

uh. why are dean and sam there just hanging out with the president? and getting arrested? what. great. my fave.

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 12x08 #sam's hair #spn clip #dave brubeck #kinda veered into #spnwhinge

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lorkai · 2 years

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A/N: Yesterday was the last day of the asexual week and I knew I had to hurry to finish this oneshot in time. First because this has been in my drafts for months and second because I genuinely love his and Yuu's friendship, it's so cute and I hope we see more of that in chapter 7.

Warning: Fluff mostly, asexual and gender neutral!reader, first time writing for Malleus, he might be occ, also proofread only one time. Lemme know if there’s a typo pls!

--- Tagging: @rainiishowers @astershere @jabberwockk

When your chest heaved with uncertainty the only thing you could do was walk until your thoughts cleared, an attentive mind was what would keep you alive in this place after all. And since you arrived in Twisted Wonderland this has happened much more often, anxiety and fear consuming you at being in a totally unknown world and completely without a way to fight those idiots. They had magic while you only had a grumpy fire-breathing cat and your own fists.

It wasn't much, but it was enough for you to be able to snatch the magic pen from their hand and fight. And fighting was the only thing you could do to have a roof over your head and enough money to survive, even though Crowley made you work until your body was as heavy as lead and your mind was about to shut off from the world. Unsurprisingly, today was a day where you ran around, did your homework, took care of your three idiots, and did Crowley's job.

And there was only one problem. You couldn't sleep, couldn't think straight except for the things that awaited you in the morning, tasks that weren't yours but that you had to complete to receive enough Madols to continue living.

Or fight an overblot student, as this has become frequent.

The weather was hot, making you roll from one side of the bed to the other and sometimes face Grimm on his side of the bed, purring, sometimes muttering something you didn't understand. The sound of him purring would put you to sleep most nights, but today it just didn't work. Even scrolling through posts didn't work and counting sheep was a little too childish for you to consider the thought.

Tired of the restless hours and the heat, you got up and left the room. You intended to eat ice cream or whatever you had in the fridge and try to study for the exams that were almost there, even though you knew that tomorrow you would need energy and willingness to get through the day. You held back a sigh, imagining the things you'd fix once you got Crowley's generous allowance, maybe you'd buy a new sofa as the current one was falling apart. But looking up you decided it would be better to fix the roof, slight leaks were forming and you had already scraped both your knees from so many times you had slipped in puddles of water while walking in a hurry.

The ghosts were starting to place bets on how much it would take for you to get seriously hurt, and while they were laughing at the situation, they were also careful to try and catch you before you fell - which again didn't work, as they were ghosts and couldn't touch you physically.

“Awake at this hour, child?” The ghost floated past you as if waiting for the right moment to snap you out of your melancholy thoughts, but also with the mischievous air of someone who intended to scare you. The smile on his face was all you needed to know to realize it and he laughed softly. “Try drinking hot milk to relax. I remember my mother always giving me milk with honey when I was just a little kid, I miss those days.”

But you denied it, indifferently.

"I'm going to eat ice cream." You told him, stretching. You considered drinking iced milk for a moment before dismissing the idea, Grimm would go crazy if he didn't have milk to drink in the morning and you weren't even that fond of it.

“Oh well, I don't think it's good… Hm? Oh, he's there again?" The ghost muttered and broke off, turning toward the window as if he'd heard something you hadn't. Surreptitiously he approached the window to spy something outside that had caught his attention, his gestures were careful and thoughtful as it seemed that he didn't want to be seen by whoever was outside. And curious, you approached him and looked too, but at first you didn't see anything out of the ordinary. "It is so strange. He always shows up at this time and wanders around outside, sometimes humming, sometimes playing his game. Formerly he even dared to enter here. I find it so lonely. Anyway, go to sleep, child, I'm sure you'll feel better in the morning. Goodnight."

And just as he suddenly appeared, the ghost disappeared through the walls. But the doubt was already in your head and ignoring all your common sense you opened the door and the urge to eat ice cream, and ventured against the gusts of dry wind and the persistent heat. You didn't care so much about the lack of an air conditioner anymore, but Crowley could be generous enough to give you a fan at least. And it almost made your tired mind laugh. If he had the option to continue procrastinating he would do so without a shadow of a doubt.

The tall grass was at your ankles and the sensation would almost tickle you if it weren't irritating, you analyzed the scenery in front of you meticulously trying to see what lurked in the dark of the night and only then noticed the person resting under the old willow tree. The black and green uniform managed to camouflage him between the tall trees and the dark of a moonless night, if you didn't know what you were looking for then you certainly wouldn't notice him there, but you noticed him and you decided to approach him with carefree steps. Perhaps the lack of sleep made you dumber than you already were. But you've faced greater dangers than just a guy sitting on the grass in your dorm.

And what could he do? You asked with a silent laugh.

He didn't seem capable of hurting anyone, though his face grew serious with every step you took towards him. But that didn't stop you as you imagined the reasons he would be there, at that time. Maybe he also had trouble sleeping at night or just went out to clear his head like you did sometimes, as the ghost said he was definitely humming something, though your human ears were unable to capture the beauty of the sound until it was too late and he has stopped humming.

Or maybe, the ironic thought raced through your brain, you had finally reached a deep exhaustion and were creating a person in your mind that you could talk to normally. It was ironic that the NRC therapist needed another therapist.

His green eyes were mesmerizing and tinged with danger. But what caught your attention the most were the prominent horns sticking out of his head and how you wanted to touch them. You didn't doubt for a second that they were real, after all the encounter with Leona, the dorm leader of Savanaclaw, who had the ears and tail of a lion was still fresh in your memory. And you refrained from touching them without permission, smiling as you crouched in front of him, a few feet away.

“Um, are you okay? What are you doing here?" you asked, running your eyes over his body to make sure you didn't see any apparent injuries. Sighing, you concluded that he must have gone there for another reason when all he did was smile as if he was amused at something, his eyes twinkling in an odd way. You scratched your neck like you didn't know how to react to that, Twisted Wonderland was really testing your limits to be proactive and know how to act with every awkward situation thrown your way.

He denied. “This is a surprise. You're a child of man, aren't you?”

You shrugged, laughing softly at the nickname he'd bestowed on you. Despite the strangeness you could see that he really wouldn't do you any harm.

“So this derelict dorm that I've taken as my own for all this time actually has a new owner after all, it's a shame. I really wish I had a place where I could enjoy the silence.” Malleus shifted and sat cross-legged as he stared at a fixed point lost in the darkness. To you he seemed to be lost in thought, he didn't even blink when you waved your hand in front of his face. But the fae paid attention to your gestures, studied them, and found it funny how you acted with concern rather than fear.

A lonely smile played across his face while he thought about how other people would be running and profusely apologizing for interrupting him during his rest, how they feared him simply because he was more powerful than they were. But there is no power without humility and he would never do anything against people without having a reason to do so. "If this dorm is no longer abandoned I should find another place for my next night outing, I guess this is my cue to say goodbye then, child of man."

The boy in front of you got up and straightened his robes. He looked ready to leave and perhaps it was best to leave him, as your experiences with all the inhabitants of Twisted Wonderland had been interesting, to say the least, but dangerous. However, you held his hand on impulse, probably because he looked familiar to you. It reminded you of a certain mystical being that brought you comfort as you explored the world and sought to understand who you were.

"Or you can keep coming." You offered and he was considering the offer, and you noticed how he was weighing the pros and cons equally as he straightened his gloves and dusted off his uniform. "Only me and my grumpy cat live here, so it wouldn't be a problem if you joined us once in a while."

“You have no knowledge of who I am, do you, child of man?” Was his immediate response, circling you in slow steps as he watched confusion paint your face. The air around him told you he'd already made his decision before he'd even said it aloud, that the confidence in his smile and the soft way his eyes gleamed heralded the start of something interesting. “Do you not fear me? Aren't you afraid that I might do something to you?”

You suppressed a laugh and slapped his arm in a friendly gesture. “Of course I do, I'm not that innocent and I've had some problems since I got here. But with every passing second it's hard to be scared when all I'm thinking about is whether I can touch your horns or not." You said it sincerely. You raised your hands in the air, but you waited for some kind of positive reaction to your comment so you could actually do that. “I don't know if this sounds weird but you remind me of a dragon. I think it's because of the horns and you know, dragons are important symbols for people like me. It reminds me of home, at least.”

Suddenly, Malleus doubled over with laughter and it was more than obvious that he hadn't expected that heartfelt answer. He was a strange guy, you supposed, but at least his laugh was merry and it took most of your tiredness away easily and you joined him in laughing, a soft, genuine laugh influenced by his glee.

“You amuse me, child of man.” He actually declared. "May I ask you a question?"

You nodded, moving your hand to emphasize that he had permission to do so. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other as you waited for him to collect his thoughts and ask the question he seemed to want to ask, you suppressed a laugh as the grass hit your ankles again and focused your attention on his green eyes.

“When you say dragons are important symbols for people like you, what do you mean?” It was a genuine question that anyone could have, but you always answered it in a clumsy way because for some people it didn't make sense and they were rude when they expressed their opinions camouflaged with prejudice on the subject. It would be a shame if the boy in front of you was one of those people, but you could see a special glint in his eye and you were pretty sure that wasn't the case.

"It's a bit of a long story." You said turning towards your dorm, not caring about the time or the hot weather that still bothered you. “Mind if we talk while we eat ice cream?”

For someone his size, Malleus nearly jumped and let out a squeal of excitement at the invitation. But he regained his composure quickly and hid what he felt behind a forced, loud cough, finally agreeing to escort you into the dorm so you could chat some more while enjoying a good old-fashioned ice cream. It was easy to tell it was his favorite dessert from the way he was almost floating down the stairs to the door, a shy little smile on his lips.

If he'd noticed how old everything was, he'd been kind enough not to mention it in front of you, escorting you into the kitchen to watch the careful way you poured two bowls of ice cream and hummed a tune he didn't know.

“Here it is, hope you like it!” You handed him a bowl of ice cream, smiling. And he thanked you with a polite nod, pushing his long hair behind his ear before eating the delicious dessert. “My name is Yuu, by the way. What is your name?"

The boy in front of you laughed once more before giving you an enigmatic look. “I prefer that you remain without that knowledge. You see, it's for your own good, I assure you. However, I grant you permission to give me a nickname.”

Granted, the toothless human version could be a little eccentric, but you looked at it through a more optimistic lens and thought of various puns on dragons and their names. Tiamat, Sunfyre, Toothless and many other names, but you ended up choosing the nickname Tsunotaro. In your head it made complete sense, at least and suited him.

"Well, as promised I'll tell you why dragons are important." You left your ice cream bowl on the sink as you came to sit on the counter, standing at the same height as Tsunotaro. The common nervousness and anxiety of coming out tickled your belly, but at that point you already knew how to handle it and took a deep breath. “There’s a thing called asexuality, it is a sexuality characterized by a lack of attraction and a desire to, umm, have intimate relationships with someone. Some asexual people like to cuddle and kiss and be in romantic relationships and situations. Other people may not be interested in any of this either, it varies greatly from person to person. Got the general idea?”

Tsunotaro nodded, still eating his ice cream slowly savoring all its flavors and listening to every word you said with great interest.

“Well, as we were little seen and understood by society we kind of associate asexuality with dragons. They don't exist in the world I come from, but I've always taken comfort in the thought of them, as they are so free and big and strong and happy." You smiled with the memories of your past. How you spent hours drawing messy dragons in your notebooks or making plans to invade Denmark while eating garlic bread. Those were the happiest and loneliest days, mainly because you hadn't had the opportunity to meet many people like you or who fully understood your expectations and fears. “You reminded me of a dragon because of your horns. I hope you don't find this too strange or offensive."

Tsunotaro, however, waved his hand away to dismiss your worried thought. “You are certainly not wrong, child of man, since in part I am a dragon, yes. With a pair of horns and a tail, and if I wanted I could take the full form of a dragon, so I'm flattered to think that thousands of people adore my kind and feel safe and happy when they think of us.”

He smiled. A relaxed, happy smile as he leaned his back against the counter you sat on, the silence that fell between the two of you was the comfortable kind. Almost as if two good old friends had been reunited after a long time apart. "You... You can touch them if you still want to, fufu." he said suddenly, lowering his head and peering in your direction with one of his emerald eyes.

But you hesitated. You had just met him and it felt so strange to touch his horns all of a sudden, but when you looked at him and realized he was serious and he really didn't care, you touched them. From base to tip, feeling the texture and trying to remember if you've ever touched anything that looked like this.

Unbelieving that a sleepless night made you befriend a half dragon, you look into Tsunotaro's face intently and study each expression carefully. How he shivers at the chills running down his spine when you hold his horns, how he closes his eyes and sighs when you massage them. As he goes silent, you decide to go ahead with it. It's so weird, but it's so interesting at the same time. Despite their appearance, they are soft and warm to the touch and he seems to enjoy having his horns massaged like that. The relaxed expression he wears makes you laugh, it's almost like petting a kitten and watching its reactions. He's cute like that.

"You know, I believe we'll be good friends." You mumble softly. At the very least, you hope that after all this the two of you can be friends, as he seemed like someone genuinely nice to spend time with.

The sweet sound of his laughter echoed through the kitchen as he looked at you. "I'd love it if we were friends, child of man. Could you tell me more about asexuality?"

You nodded enthusiastically, feeling really welcomed and comfortable. And for the rest of the night you and he were talking about it, making jokes and puns and just having fun.

And that was the story of how you met Malleus Draconia. For people who would like a more elaborate and challenging plot this could be a rather ordinary and boring story, but for him and for you it was a pleasant story and full of good memories. A story of a dragon and his ace friend.

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus #ramshackle prefect #twst ramshackle prefect #malleus x yuu #malleus x reader #malleus x mc #asexual #asexual reader #asexual mc #fluff #lorkai imagine

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soulsam · 2 months

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Ask game!! For Sam and Dean both:

What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

OMG HELLO TUMBLR USER SPNTRUNK???? WHAT AN HONOR

I will ramble about my samdean thoughts ANY TIME so thank you for indulging me lol

1a. for sam, I loooove when the fandom acknowledges and magnifies his obsession with dean. he's slightly quieter about it (he doesn't go around yelling YOU TOUCH MY BROTHER AND ILL KILL YOU the way dean does) but that doesn't make him any less codependent or any less freakish!!!!!! he is JUST as insane about dean as dean is about him, and I LOVE to see that explored

1b. for dean, I love fandom discussions of his experiences with romance and sex and what they mean to him. I feel like the show mostly goes "dean sleeps around lol" and leaves it at that, but sometimes you get a glimpse of something else (cassie, lisa), and I always found those parts to be extremely intriguing. because dean can be such a hopeless romantic!!! he just doesn't let himself have good things, he holds them at arms length so that when he inevitably loses them it might not hurt so much. it's so heartbreaking and I could write academic essays about it probably. (as a sidenote, this aspect of his character is part of why I love samdean so much. he and sam have their moments, they've been separated by thousands of miles and death itself and it hurts dean terribly, but they always find their way back to each other. sam is the one person who dean has never really lost, not forever. and now that they're in their shared(!!!!) heaven, he never will.)

2a. I am going to have to try so so so so so hard not to write an essay about this one. the way the wider fandom treats sam makes my blood BOIL. tossing him to the side, pretending he doesn't exist, saying dean would be better off without him, etc. I hate all of it. I hate the way he gets sidelined in his own story, and the worst part is that THE SHOW ITSELF DOES IT TOO. SO I CANT EVEN BLAME THE STUPID FANDOM ENTIRELY. but if I had to pick one thing that I hate the most about the fandom's treatment of sam...I think I would be unoriginal and choose the purgatory debacle. there are just so many reasons why he shouldn't be blamed so harshly for the way he handled that time period. like. 1. he had JUST gotten hallucifer out of his head. he was having psychotic episodes so bad he nearly DIED, he barely even knew what was real and what was a hallucination. 2. he was ALONE. bobby was dead, dean and cas were, by all accounts, dead. his whole family was GONE. I can't even imagine the grief he must have endured in that time. I wouldn't be surprised if he had been suicidal, or if he'd had another psychotic break. and 3. WHERE WAS HE SUPPOSED TO GO LOOKING? he had no reason to think that dean SURVIVED the dick-splosion, and even if he was certain he had, sam KNOWS how dangerous it is to open the door to purgatory. and he couldn't exactly ask cas about it, could he? what was he supposed to do, summon crowley? yeah I'm sure that would've gone great. plus, 4. he and dean AGREED not to look for each other. sure, they make and break those kinds of promises often, but come the fuck on. how is it fair to ask sam, hopeless and alone and barely even functional enough to stand on his own two feet, to defy the promise he and dean made in order to bring him back from the dead and probably let something else nasty out along with him? that hardly seems reasonable to me.

um. I got heated about that one. anyway everyone lay off sam about purgatory okay. including dean. I get why he was upset but man cmon.

2b. this one's going to be shorter because I'm pissed about purgatory now lol but I hate when people make dean out to be some kind of. horrific wifebeater (and sam his battered, trapped woman). like. yeah. he's got anger issues and violent tendencies. yes, he often fails to break the cycle of abuse. yes, he lashes out at sam, and that's bad. but like. sam doesnt need protection from dean??? sam doesnt need liberation from dean???? dean isn't some horrible monster who belittles his brother for shits and giggles. he's a man who's seen way too much, lost way too much. it hurts to look at the ways he's changed, but he's doing the best he fucking can. also, pet peeve!! I HATE HATE HATE when people point to the behavior he exhibited while he had the mark of cain and go "see!! see!!! it was inside him all along!!!! he's a terrible person!!!!" LIKE. UM. HES LITERALLY BEEN SADDLED WITH AN ANCIENT CURSE. I DONT THINK ITS FAIR TO PROJECT ITS EFFECTS ONTO HIS CHARACTER, ACTUALLY. it annoys me soooooo bad. like did they miss the parts where he tried everything he could to keep his urges under control? did they miss the horrified look he'd have on his face after he went on a killing spree he couldn't stop? it's willful ignorance, and I hate that shit!!! I hate it!!!!!

genuinely though. and maybe this is silly to say after all that rambling. I don't want to be negative here. I love my (our!!) little corner of this fandom and I genuinely unironically love this show with every fiber of my being. it's my favorite piece of media ever and maybe that's partly just recency bias but like. I had sworn off live action TV for weird personal reasons (if you go looking, I have a personal post saying I refused to reblog spn posts because I didn't want gifs of real people on my blog. lmao) and yet here I am. I love this show. I love the wincest fandom. I love my mutuals. and as soon as I finish the finale I'm probably just going to start the whole damn thing over again.

oh also SPNTRUNK I LOVE YOUR ART !!! WTF!!!! HI???? IM STILL KIND OF IN AWE LOL

#ANYWAY. theres that #lol #sam winchester #dean winchester #spn #ask game #keithposting #;

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starseneyes · 2 months

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Good Omens: The Quest for the Set

Over the course of several months, I slowly checked Ebay, Thriftbooks, and Alibris for old copies of Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman on deep discount.

Why? Well, it's a bit of a long story.

See, I thrift most of my books. It's the only way I can buy books most the time. But one chance purchase sent me off on a quest I never expected.

This is the story of how Rachel accidentally collected way too many copies of Good Omens on the quest to complete a set she happened upon by chance. And, yes, it does have a happy ending.

Deep into the heat of Summer 2023, both WGA and SAG-AFTRA were on strike—forced by AMPTP. (Yes, this is actually essential to the story)

And those of us outside NY and LA did our best to support. I was a madwoman on Social Media—posting every single day with links to Picket locations and the Entertainment Community Fund—and used any spare money I could scrounge up on Strike Shirts to support the cause.

I made it up to the lines twice in New York—first with the WGA, then with my Union later in the Summer. The first time, it was a day-trip that coincided with a family trip. The second time, friends sponsored my trip up because they believed in the cause.

And, wow, do I have amazing friends to do such a thing!

We were all a bit burnt out by August, and I was looking for something to distract me and cheer me up. I happened upon an old Prodigal Son interview with Michael Sheen where they mentioned a then-upcoming project—Good Omens.

"I meant to watch that!" I thought to myself. I shimmied to Amazon Prime and was stoked to see two whole Series waiting for me.

Imagine my surprise when I spied David Tennant on-screen with Sheen (yes, this is how out-of-touch I was about the production). I was a fan of both actors separately, though I'd only seen each in a handful of productions.

As Aziraphale and Crowley, I was captivated by them.

I marathoned both Series 1 and 2 in a week. Then, watched, again. Then, forced my husband to watch it, and found out my father had seen Series 1, but not 2, and made sure he got caught up, too.

I sought out the book, and found a Mass Market Paperback on Thriftbooks that was cheap enough I could afford it. But when it arrived, I struggled with handling it. It's just not my favorite size of book to read.

To my great surprise, I discovered my husband had found a regular paperback at the thrift store. Huzzah!

I read the book and loved it. But then I looked forlornly at my shelves. You see, if I really love a book, I like to have a hardback edition. I tend to tear up paperbacks on subsequent readings (I'm just not gentle on them, despite my best efforts).

So, I went online and found a sale at Blackwell's for the Illustrated Edition. And, yes, the shipping was included across the pond, which boggled my mind, but made it something I could afford.

It. Is. Gorgeous. There was only one problem—as soon as it arrived, I realized it was way too beautiful for everyday use.

It would take a month or so before I decided to try to find a decent, used hardback copy that I could use for everyday use.

I didn't want the crème de la crème. I'm a budget shopper out of necessity, and we were just getting our finances in order in October after our GoFundMe wiped out most of our medical debt.

So, I wasn't searching the web for First Editions or signed copies. I simply wanted a Good condition Hardback. And, I was elated to find one on Thriftbooks.

When it arrived, I immediately noticed part of the tagline was missing. I thought it was a misprint, but a lovely person on BlueSky informed me it was part of a set.

Now, this is when Rachel's OCD kicked into overdrive. I couldn't afford another book, just yet, but it felt lopsided to not have both books.

I posted about the conundrum and was surprised to find multiple people in my life who had one half or the other and had never noticed.

Matthew and I both took to the internet, thinking that maybe we could easily find the second copy, and then both our OCD would be satisfied. What we found was a maze of insanity.

See, the 2016 edition of Good Omens has a single ISBN but multiple dustjackets.

There's White. There's Black. There's ones with the full tagline. Ones with the half tagline. There's editions with quotes on 'em, and editions with different buttons: "Soon to be a TV Series", "Now a TV Series".

And nobody on Ebay, Alibris, or Thriftbooks will answer you about which edition they have. I messaged so many and they said, "Sorry, until we pull it to ship it, we know as much as you do!" Because the ISBN automatically pulls up whichever cover it chooses on whichever system, so you are at the mercy of chance.

I'm not a rich person even in the best of circumstances, so I decided to try a few times, and then move on. It would only be thrifted or second-hand items, obviously, but I didn't want to obsess forever.

I tried three times without success. Two Black 2016 Hardback Editions with full tagline. And one that claimed it was a Hardback edition, but showed up a paperback.

This is about the time I decided to give up.

I scrounged up a bit of money and found an SFBC 50th Edition for around $20. I counted my blessings when it arrived in decent shape.

The quest was over, I decided. I would simply look in Thrift Stores the rest of my life hoping that, perchance, the mystery White 2016 Hardback Half Tagline edition would find me.

Funny enough, when I pulled the SFBC edition from my mailbox, I found another package. After staring at it quizzically for a moment, I remembered an $8 "Acceptable" edition I'd found on Alibris and ordered on a whim when I saved money on groceries.

At the time, my Eldest had said, "I bet this is gonna be the one, Mama!" I remembered that with a smile as I picked up the SFBC edition and walked it to the living room bookcase, leaving the unopened second package on the bed.

After shelving the SFBC edition, I returned to my bedroom and tore open the packaging on the mystery copy. I started giggling as soon as I saw the top of the book—White hardback.

At this point, I was thinking, "Oh, of course I finally get a White hardback, now. But there's no way that it could be the right one. That's just not possible."

So, I pulled the book the rest of the way out of the packaging.

And. I. Screamed.

It was... the book. It was the BOOK!! How was it the book!?

I turned the $8 "Acceptable" book over in my hand, shocked at its state and normal wear on the dustjacket. My six-year-old rushed into the room to see what all the hubbub was about.

I triumphantly showed her the book, and then the laughter turned to grateful tears. I had given up the quest, but the prize found me, anyway.

I set the books together on the shelf, and waited for my Eldest to come home. As soon as he spied them together, he shouted, "I knew it! I knew it! I told you!" Yes, kiddo, you did.

For weeks after, I'd stop as I walked by the bookcase and smile broadly. It was so insane how it happened! I had given up! I was done!

And, yet, it reminded me of another time I gave up on something—December 2013 when I went in for a medical evaluation of my Fallopian tubes.

We had been trying to conceive for years. And I knew that if the test revealed my tubes were closed, we would stop trying. We couldn't afford another surgery. We'd already paid for so many procedures, medications, shots, and tests.

The results showed one tube that fired perfectly, and the other that sometimes did. I conceived via IUI the next month—one follicle from each tube. Twins. They're nine, now.

I had given up. And then the good found me, anyway.

In acting and writing, you get very used to rejection, to things not working out the way you want them to. I think I've gotten so accustomed to it, that I've forgotten sometimes the good things do happen.

So every time I walk past those books, it's a reminder to me. It's a reminder that, yeah, sometimes you strike out again, and again. But sometimes the good finds you, anyway.

As for the extra copies—we're keeping them to give them away. If anyone ever says, "Oh, I always wanted to read it, but can't afford it," I can hand them their very own copy to keep. How marvelous it is to be a position to share.

I'm going to face more rejections. I'm going to face more things that don't work out. But sometimes... maybe... just every so often... the good will find me, still.

And it'll find you, too.

#Good Omens #Terry Pratchett #Neil Gaiman #Books

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the-villainous-ace · 10 months

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Concept has been on my mind since this song showed up in the Azirephale playlist on Spotify

I haven't finished the second season yet so no spoilers really.

"Can't Take My Eyes... Off Of You"

#making up #serinade #musical number #dramatic declarations of love #I was wrong dance

Aziriphale is angry with Crowley,

Or as angry as his nature can tolerate without feeling guilty. Which in Azeriphale's case consisted of feeling rather disappointed, cross, and a little hurt, rather than the standard intense urge to call forth lighting to smite down who ever displeased you.

He did want to forgive Crowley. forgiveness is one of his favorite things, and he got immense satisfaction from doing it and he feels he's quite good at it.

At this moment though.

Abstinence, he felt, is also a good virtue that he, as an Angel, can exemplify*

*(unless of course he was asked to abstain from partaking in sushi, chiffon cake, filet mignon, crepês, oysters... well I think you see the point)

After Crowley's latest flame-up *(in that he had been both very ubset and on fire) the "I was wrong" song/dance just wasn't going to cut it...*

*(he'd already tried)

He was going to have to do something terrible, something unthinkable for a demon. So embarrassing that if anyone else saw what he was doing he would never be taken seriously again by heaven or hell.

It could mean the death of him...

⬇️ Continued...

Crowly serenades Aziriphale using a song by "Franky Valley" (an Azirphale favorite). He hopes that by using the lyrics as a viechle, he can say what he feels honestly without his demonic rationalities* (or rather the insecurrities that had gotten him into this mess with Aziriphael in the first place)* interfering.

His voice cracks like the words are being painfully strangled out of him, forcefully and against his will. figuratively speaking though it could be said to go even a step further than that.* (it should be also said that at the way it's going, he may have to physically start to strangle himself to put an end to his nervous hissing)*

Crowley, as he begins his prostrated psalm, is engaged in a heated battle of wills within himself as he bites out mawkish lyrics that, despite their fluff, cut into his deeper feelings like a sharp doctor's knife and then began to rip them out of him, like they were to be displayed in jars of formaldehyde like feet and tumours and other grotesque specimens collected by resurrectionists.

But to Aziriphale, unaware of Crowley's painful effort, it seems like Crowley's usual begrudging-ness to apologize, only slightly elevated due to the increased humiliation he was no doubt struggling to endure, but still lacking in the humility Aziriphale thought he deserved from the demon.

He steels his resolve further, to remain un-budged by the display...

Sensing Aziriphale turn colder, Crowley plunges further to dig out his forgotten heart and force it open. Like going full gas, 100 mph in a 33' Bently through blazing hellfire all over again, he resolved himself to see it through. Even if he caught fire (which he was beginning to feel like he might... Again... )

And he thought that if he could do that, then he could damn well get through this song!

He's singing now, actually singing, not just spitting the words out like they were a fly in his mouth.

He'd gotten past the hard bits of the song. The bits about Heaven, and God, and a 4 letter word beginning with L that he sort of muttered, his pronunciation sounding like he had only just managed to stop himself from being sick.

But now he was singing, his voice carried out and he felt embarrassed at the number of emotions that seemed to tremble through it.

He couldn't remember when the last time he sang was, if he had ever at all. Maybe it was before he had "sauntered vaguely downwards", when he was still a part of the heavily choir praising god (when he wasn't busy building galaxies and nebulas and constilations).

Or maybe it was a couple of centuries ago in a bar drawling out a funny tune in merriment with sloshed company. Or it could've been yesterday singing along with Freddie absentmindedly knowing all the words from their constant repetition. The point was he couldn't remember if he had ever actually sung, but he certainly had never sung like this before.

He began to move too,

He had planned to dance. He didn't plan a dance perse *(attempting to choreograph a dance for a confession/apology was taking the embarrassment too far he felt)* He just sort of glided and swayed in the way only he could, in a manner that felt the right way to go about it when he'd seen it performed by others. Dancing certainly had felt more natural than singing to him till now.

Azeriphale's eyes widened in astonishment and he could feel himself start to twitch. He'd started to feel sort of tingly all over, like his body was trying to tell him something but his thoughts just hadn't caught up yet. All the chocolates, that he had indulged in earlier like he was attempting to stuff a deep void, felt like they had transformed into a swarm of rowdy caterpillars and were now dancing the gavotte! *(Of course the chocolates-turned-caterpillars could've been dancing any number of dances but the gavotte is what Aziripheal knows best)*

Crowley was staring at him.

This wasn't new and it wasn't as if he'd only started again a second ago. He had been staring since he'd come into the shop, he'd felt it and it hadn't ceased. But Aziriphale suddenly felt embarrassed about it. As Crowley sang, Azeriphale suddenly got the feeling that they were both remembering 6000+ years of that stare. And suddenly it wasn't just a stare, it never was, it never had been.

6000+ years and only now he knew what it had meant. The meaning it held now as their eyes glued together.

Crowley slid forward.

Aziriphales's face grew hot, the catterpillars had metamorphosed into butterflies that we're now fluttering in a hurricane of anticipation.

He took in a sharp breath.

The black slits of Crowley's eyes shook, advancing further, finishing the refrain...

"You're just too Good to be true...

Can't take me Eyes... Off of You~... "

•••

Wanted to just jot down my idea and ended up with a full-on drabble of at least 1000 words (I think anyway, I didn't count). Hard to write out and illustrate in words what you see as more of a colorful musical number visualisation in your head.

Divine inspiration triggered by the "I was wrong" dance from episode 1 of season 2 (It lives in my head rent free) and a favorite of mine "Can't take my eyes off of you" by Frankie Valli.

What if Crowley and Aziriphale fought and the only way Crowley could think of to get Aziriphale to accept his apology is to confess his feelings and the only way to do that was to masquerade them in an"I was wrong" dance trojan horse?

(side note I need a gif of Crowley doing the I was wrong dance like I need air to breathe and food to eat, additionally I would give my left arm, my college tuition and my soul to see David Tennant as Crowley perform this song)

Here's the lyrics to the Song for added context but you could also listen to it using the link at the top of the post

Lyrics - "Cant Take My Eyes off of You"

-Frankie Valli

🎶🎤🎶

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last, love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

Pardon the way that I stare

There's nothin' else to compare

The sight of you leaves me weak

There are no words left to speak

But if you feel like I feel

Please let me know that it's real

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

🎶🎶🎶

I love you, baby

And if it's quite alright

I need you, baby

To warm the lonely night

I love you, baby

Trust in me when I say

Oh, pretty baby

Don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby

Now that I've found you, stay

And let me love you, baby

Let me love you

🎶🎶🎶

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