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onceuponapuffin · 15 days

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Fanatic Intervention Part 10!!

Part 10 whaaaaaat??

Alright, so idk if any of you have actually been to NYC, so I played it safe on that end. But I have been (just once), and if you haven't ever heard of Ellen's Stardust Diner, I highly recommend you run (not walk) to Youtube or TikTok or something and search it up. Those folks are amazing, and I had to give the place a nod. Because come on, Aziraphale would LOVE to be served by singing waitstaff.

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You had all gone downstairs for dinner that night (you were not dressed fancily enough, but no one noticed so you pretended you weren’t feeling inadequate the whole time). Aziraphale ate, Crowley watched, you watched them while you ate, Anathema just ate because she’s the only rational one in the group here, let’s be honest. The second you got back into the room apartment suite, you crashed and were dead to the world until morning.

And so, you wake up, yawning and needing coffee, but otherwise alright. You make your way out of your bedroom, and find Anathema sitting at the large dining room table surrounded by papers, tarot cards, rune stones, crystals, a pendulum, and books. She’s frantically writing on a piece of paper.

“Good morning!” You say as you approach her. She looks up from her work.

“Oh, good morning. How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright thanks. What time is it?”

“Um...about 12:30.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. A lot happened yesterday and you needed to recoup,” she replies with a shrug. You are so grateful for her understanding, but decide to put the effort into not dwelling on it.

“How’s it been?” You ask, nodding at her papers. Anathema sighs.

“Well, I haven’t made any headway yet.”

“Anything I can do?”

The doorbell rings. There’s a doorbell?? Of course there is.

“Oh!” You hear Aziraphale call from one of the living rooms. “That will be the crepes! ENTAAH!” You snort a laugh through your nose. From here you can’t tell if there’s a feather boa, but you can practically hear a feather boa in his voice – you don’t need to see one. Anathema sighs.

“I need...I NEED for you to get one of them out of my hair for a bit. If one isn’t ordering room service, the other one is prank calling the front desk. There’s a mountain of toiletries in the living room, and the doorbell won’t stop ringing. It’s driving me crazy.”

As if on cue, you hear Aziraphale calling from the door: “Crowley! We have enough shampoo!”

Well, babysitting supernatural entities wasn’t exactly the way you thought this would be going, but who are you to argue with Anathema? You nod.

“Any preference which one?”

“No. Just...one of them.”

“Yeah, okay. Give me five minutes.”

“Thank you.” She puts her head in her hands for a moment while you go to get yourself ready.

---------

You and Aziraphale walk down the sidewalk towards Times Square, sipping on frappucinos. Aziraphale had been skeptical about the drink until he saw the mountain of whipped cream and the caramel drizzled on top.

“Have you been here before?” He asks you casually. You shake your head.

“No, but I spend a lot of time on the internet. So I’ve heard things. You can learn a lot just by lurking.” You swirl your straw around the frozen coffee to mix in the last of the whipped cream. “Have you? I mean you and Crowley have been practically everywhere, right?”

“I’ve been once. But it was a very long time ago now. I came for the World’s Fair in 1939. Marvelous, really, the technology at the time. Not nearly as fascinating as how technology ended up evolving of course.”

“Technology isn’t your thing, though,” You say, raising an eyebrow.

“I prefer to admire it from a distance, but I can appreciate it all the same.”

You think about how he has a driver’s license, and the ancient computer in his bookshop. Besides, how would he make tea without a kettle. It makes sense.

“So,” Aziraphale begins, “What is this venture that you need me to accompany you for?”

“Oh I think you’ll like it,” You say with a smile. Aziraphale raises his eyebrows quizzically.

“Oh?” He asks, intrigued, as he takes another sip of his drink.

“Broadway,” You say. Aziraphale’s face lights up.

“Oh!”

“I figure,” You say, “What a shame it would be to spend time in New York City without seeing a show on Broadway. And I’m not sure I trust Crowley’s theatre manners.”

“I understand why you would have that opinion. He can be rather a handful,” Aziraphale says thoughtfully, as though he hadn’t been driving Anathema to insanity himself. “But I assure you, I’ve seen nothing less than exceptional behaviour from him when the two of us have gone together.”

“Well yeah, but that’s with you. There’s a difference,” You tilt your drink towards the angel to emphasize your point. He hums thoughtfully. “So,” You continue, “I figure you and I go see a couple shows. I think we have time for two of them so how about I pick one, then you pick one?”

“I think that sounds like a rather splendid day, in fact,” he says, finishing off his drink and disposing of it in the nearest recycling can.

“Great,” You say, “My pick first.” You dispose of your empty drink container as well, and pause to let the suspense build. “And I choose The Lion King.”

Aziraphale’s face scrunches up.

“Is it bebop?”

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Dear Reader, Aziraphale likes Lion King. He does not, however, like I Just Can’t Wait to Be King, or anything to do with Timon and Pumbaa. He is an angel that can forgive many things, but apparently he draws the line at “bebop” and fart jokes.

“I just don’t understand why it was necessary,” he says with a wince afterwards, “And in an adaptation of Hamlet of all things!”

“You say that like your friend Will didn’t write a thousand dick jokes.”

“I suppose,” Aziraphale doesn’t sound convinced. “The rest of it was lovely though,” he adds in a brighter tone, “Breathtakingly artistic, in fact.”

“It really was, wasn’t it?” You say with a sigh. In your hand you hold a bag full of merchandise from the show’s gift shop. Aziraphale bought an artbook. “Do you have a choice lined up?”

“I do indeed,” Aziraphale smiles and waves his hands in a rainbow-motion, “The Phantom of the Opera.” His face has so much joy in it.

Watching Aziraphale experience things is mesmerizing. The ways his face moves, the way his voice shifts around when he gets all excited, the way he gasps so audibly when the performance surprises him. It’s an incredible thing to behold, and you absolutely understand why Crowley spends so much time doing it.

“Well before we go see Phantom, I need some food.”

“Oh! Do you have any ideas where to go?” He leans towards you conspiratorially. “Any secrets you heard while Lurking?”

“Well,” You reply, playing into his game, “I have heard stories of a place called Ellen’s Stardust Diner, and I think you’ll like it.”

“And what makes you think that?” His eyes are sparkling with intrigue. Damn. You have to try and keep your knees from buckling, it’s so intense.

“Two words,” You say, “Singing. Waitstaff.” You hadn’t thought Aziraphale’s face could get brighter, but it does, and so you add the cherry on top, the trump card, the finishing blow: “And they take requests.”

-----------

Dinner was great, dessert was fabulous, Aziraphale was willing to put up with the bebop. Especially after you suggested he request a ballad, and they not only took it, but did a wonderful job of it. Phantom was long, but you both enjoyed yourselves.

Why am I suddenly speeding through this, dear Reader? I’m glad you asked.

When the both of you finally return to the hotel, it’s late. Anathema is still hard at work and you notice a definite...lack of Toiletry Mountain. Crowley is sat demurely at the kitchen table with a glass of whiskey.

“Are you okay?” You ask him carefully.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Crowley replies. You look at Aziraphale and shrug. The angel shrugs back before going to grab himself a drink, and you go see Anathema.

“Hey,” You say, “How’s it going?”

“Oh, much better!” She says, looking up at you brightly, “I managed to get things under control, and I got some very promising readings from the top of the Empire State Building.”

“I’m sorry, you went where? How??”

Anathema smirks and glances over at Crowley, then back at you.

“A witch has her ways.”

“And what happened to all the shampoo?”

“I made him give it back and apologize.”

“I...what….” You sputter. It takes all you have to sit down in a chair instead of just fall over. “How do you do this?” You ask, impressed.

“What do you mean?”

“In every fanfiction, in every alternate universe, how do you do this?” You gesture at the kitchen where you know Crowley is still quietly sat, listening to Aziraphale recount your day. Anathema smiles broadly and slides her glasses back up her nose.

“You can’t expect me to give away all my secrets, now.”

Have you ever before been in a room where you so intensely love everyone in it? If not, you have now.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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fledglingdoodles · 2 years

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The Angel Aziraphale is tasked with guiding shepherd boy David onto the path of future kinghood. Killing 'Goliath', the apparent giant who's been terrorizing the Israelite army for the past 40 days, would be just the ticket...

The Demon Crawley has been successfully terrorizing the Israelite army for the past 40 days - compared with the rest of early humanity, he's apparently tall enough to pass as a giant! Though he must admit, the job has been going a little too easily so far... My illustrated fic from @days-of-their-lives-zine is here! You can read it on Ao3 or read it here under the cut (2498 Words):

Now after all that grisly business with Samson and the temple, Aziraphale had taken up residence in Judah. It was a mostly quiet place, and Aziraphale was content to spend his days among the humans, appreciating their food, tasting their new and exciting experiments with wine. This world and its people was still new and full of conflict, so Aziraphale made the most of the good times while he could.

So when the Archangel Gabriel suddenly manifested in the middle of the vineyards, scaring the metaphorical devil out of the boys tending the grapes, Aziraphale wasn’t entirely shocked. He looked in silent distress at the ring of scorched leaves and shriveled fruits.

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale smiled nervously.

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel replied grimly, hands steepled, “The Enemy has been locked in a stand-off against God’s human army of Israelites for over a month now. Surely you must have heard?”

“Certainly,” Aziraphale said doubtfully. It was frightfully difficult to keep track of who was fighting whom these days. He’d even heard whisperings about there being some kind of giant thundering around in the hills, but he had attributed that to winedrunk ramblings-

“- some kid named David,” Gabriel had been talking, “Son of Jesse? Littlest of a bunch of brothers. Anyway, I have it on good authority,” Gabriel glanced heavenward, “That he’s meant to be king of Israel. And defeating these Philistines is part of the Plan.”

“A child?” Aziraphale said, aghast.

“Exactly!” Gabriel beamed, “Kids are simple stuff, he just needs a little angelic push onto the correct Godly course. You can manage that, right?”

“I rather suppose I could do-”

“Great! We’re all counting on you, Aziraphale!” Gabriel ascended and vanished, scorching more grape vines in the process.

“Oh dear,” said Aziraphale.

After asking around, Aziraphale finally found David in the fields outside Judah. The boy sat upon a rock, strumming a sweet tune upon a lyre while sheep grazed peacefully around him.

“I say, boy?” called Aziraphale.

The shepherd boy turned to look. He was no older than eleven, with dark curly hair, light brown skin and wide brown eyes. Aziraphale was taken aback: was this child really meant to be the savior of Israel?

“Yes, sir?” said David.

“I’ve heard you have many brothers, where are they?” Aziraphale asked.

“They’re at King Saul’s camp in Elah,” David plucked sharply at the lyre strings, “Drawing battle lines against the Philistines.”

“You must miss them terribly?” Aziraphale said.

“They said I couldn’t go, that I’m too young,” David said petulantly, “It isn’t fair, really. I’ve had to fight off bears and lions and stuff to protect this flock before, what’s the big difference between that and fighting men?”

Aziraphale felt a little faint at the thought of the boy fighting away vicious animals. He desperately tried to recall what exactly his task was. Get the boy to the battleground? Probably? Even though his orders were from God Herself, Aziraphale didn’t feel so good about carrying them out...

“I say,” Aziraphale smiled “I don’t suppose your brothers would very much love a visit from you? Perhaps some food from home to lift their spirits, some bread and cheese, perhaps?”

The following morning, David loaded his donkey with the best food home could provide. Aziraphale followed beside as the pair set off for the Valley of Elah.

They found Saul’s army of Israelites lined up for battle, hands clenched tight on their spears and shields, glancing nervously at each other, tension thick in the air. Aziraphale approached the line, while David went off to find his brothers.

“Good sir,” Aziraphale whispered to one soldier, “Dare I ask what’s got everyone so spooked?”

“You must be new here,” the soldier sighed wearily and gestured across the valley with his spear, “You’ll see.”

Aziraphale gazed over to the opposing hillcrest, where the Philistine army was likewise lined up. Their lines were relaxed, the soldiers smiled knowingly to one another. They looked in anticipation to one particular tent, standing taller than the rest. A shieldbearer pulled the curtain aside.

Terror ripped through the Israelite soldiers, and they scattered, fleeing the frontline to hide behind their tents. The dust settled, and Aziraphale’s initial shock morphed to righteous fury when he finally recognized the tall figure in the bronze helmet and greaves and scaled armor.

It was Crawley.

Crawley hadn’t exactly wanted this assignment, the Philistines were more Dagon’s people, really. But as jobs went, distracting and intimidating God’s pet human army was pretty damn amusing. He hadn’t meant to pass himself off as some sort of giant, but he was a full head taller than any of the Philistines. And none of the Israelites ever got close enough to check. So scared humans did what they did best and they spread exaggerated rumors of Crawley’s height across the land. It was sort of flattering really. He’d even started to feel ten feet tall some days…

It was all dashed to pieces upon catching a glimpse of Aziraphale glowering at him from the Israelite camp. Crawley felt like sinking into the sand under the weight of Aziraphale’s judgement.

“Speech, Goliath sir?” A little nudge from Crawley’s shieldbearer jolted him out of his mortification.

“Right. Speech,” Crawley murmured, “Sp-eech. Right.”

He toed at the ground, and heaved a sigh, “Right, you lot!” He proclaimed, “You know the drill by now, eh? Been at this for forty days now. ‘This day I defy the God of Israel, send down a man to fight, if we win you’ll be our slaves’, blah blah blah…”

His fellow Philistines laughed and jeered at the absent army across the valley. Crawley made the fatal error of meeting Aziraphale’s disappointed gaze again.

“Uh,” Crawley faltered, “Ah, sod it. W-Why don’t you send a champion down already so we can finally settle this and go home!”

Silence. Crawley squinted, looking past Aziraphale. He could just make out the huddled masses of the Israelite soldiers as they deliberated with one another. An unfamiliar voice rises above, young and pitchy.

“Who is this uncircumcised Philistine that defies the armies of God?”

“What the-'' Crawley caught a glimpse of the speaker. It was a boy - an infant, practically! He strode up to the battleline to stand beside Aziraphale, hands planted brattishly on his hips.

“Aziraphale!” Crawley sputtered, feeling set up, “How does he know tha- What have you been telling him?”

Aziraphale turned to David, clasping the boy on the shoulder. Suddenly this job wasn’t looking to be so difficult after all. He began guiding David in the approximate direction of King Saul’s tent.

“It’s unbelievable!” David cried, “That man parading around like that! If no one here has the courage to tell him off, I might as well do it myself!”

“Ah, quite right that,” Aziraphale said “But you’ll get nowhere carrying on about it, why don’t you go tell someone of higher authority about it, hm? See if he can lend you a sword?”

David bolted towards the command tent, but then stopped. He turned to look back at Aziraphale, a flash of doubt slipping across his soft features.

“Will you be there?” The boy asked quietly.

“I’ll be watching over you,” Aziraphale raised a reassuring hand, “Even if you can’t see me.”

The boy grinned with renewed determination and he dashed away. Aziraphale sighed, then cast a miracle around himself, hiding his presence from the humans. He strode past the Israelite battleline and descended into the valley.

Crawley watched with growing dread as Aziraphale made his way down the steep slope of the opposing hillside.

Crawley’s Philistines had dispersed and settled into their little cliques to drink and play dice. He desperately wished to join them and avoid the dressing down he was about to receive.

He growled, frustrated, and set his spear and sword down in the sand, He unclipped his helmet, too. Best to not look like a threat.

“Where are you going, sir?” Crawley’s loyal shieldbearer called after him.

“It’s alright, lad,” Crawley waved his hand, concealing himself from any curious eyes. He met Aziraphale in the valley, standing on opposite sides of a small bubbling river.

“Crawley,” Aziraphale said.

“Hallo,” Crawley hummed.

“So you’re a giant now, too, are you?” Aziraphale said dubiously.

“Seems so.” Crawley winced, “Look, angel - We can make them, the humans, see or not see what we want them to see, right? Part of the whole job, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale didn’t look convinced. Crawley crossed his arms protectively over his belly and waited for the lecture to begin.

Aziraphale shook his head and set his upper lip stiff, “Now, see here: Heaven isn’t happy with this… stand-off your lot have orchestrated.”

“That’s my problem, how?”

“I’m making it your problem!” Aziraphale snapped, then sighed, “I need a favor. There’s a boy-”

“The one with unsettlingly personal knowledge?”

“I assure you, he didn’t learn it from me!”

“Course not - anyway, this boy. Some kind of special kid isn’t he? Destined for greatness and somesuch?”

“I- Er, yes actually,” Aziraphale stammered.

“They always are,” Crawley looped his thumbs into his thick leather belt and shook his head, “Here’s a question for you Angel: How many children must the Almighty send to the killing floor to do Her dirty work?

Aziraphale stepped back, shaken.

“This one will be a great king right?” Crawley’s lip curled derisively, “An unlikely hero defeats the giant, thus becoming ruler of this land?”

“It wouldn’t be too difficult, would it?” Aziraphale cried, “To throw the fight? If you please? You don’t look very happy here, and my side might leave me alone for a few hundred years too, if the boy were to win-”

“If he were to kill me, you mean?” Crawley raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, but you’re a clever fellow!” Aziraphale said reassuringly, “With all your talk about the humans only seeing what you want them to see?”

Crawley squinted up at the Israelite camp. Aziraphale could practically see the wheels of ingenuity turning behind Crawley’s eyes.

“This time, then,” Crawley murmured distantly, and suddenly fixed Aziraphale in his burning gold serpentine glare, “What about next time?”

“Pardon?”

“The next boy,” Crawley pressed, “The Prophet. ‘King of kings’, all that bollocks. Her son?”

Aziraphale wasn’t solid on the details, but he knew the approximate plan, “Well, there are quite a lot of things he’ll get up to when he’s born-”

“And what will he be remembered for?”

“Ermh.”

“How many children till She’s done, Aziraphale?”

“Now...Now hold on!” Aziraphale scrambled, “Your side too! They’re sending a boy too, aren’t they? To end everything?”

Something splashed into the creek a few dozen paces away. David was at the bankside, reaching into the water and pulling up the smooth river stones. Aziraphale was reminded of the children in Mesopotamia, playing innocently in the puddles of unending rain-

“You’re right,” Crawley whispered heavily.

“Sorry?” Aziraphale turned back to his enemy. Crawley looked lank and ill-fitted to his shining armor.

“My side is sending a boy too,” Crawley’s shoulders sagged as he turned to climb the hill back to the Philistine camp, “To end everything, someday. But not yet. Not this time.”

Aziraphale turned and hurried back up to the safety of his side.

“Those fools are letting a boy fight you?” Crawley’s shieldbearer chattered, “That’ll be quick work!”

“Right,” Crawley replied flatly, securing the helmet strap around his chin and taking up his spear. His Philistines reassembled into their lines, watching his every move with gleeful anticipation.

Crawley sniffed, rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and sauntered down into the valley. Up on the other hill, the Israelites had redrawn their lines and Aziraphale stood among them, shining bright. He looked nervous.

The crowd broke, future-king David tore down the hill to meet Crawley.The sight of the boy running towards him jolted uneasy memories of the very first boys, the sons of Adam and Eve. They hadn’t known what their God had in store for them. None of them ever did.

David skidded to a stop across the river, his stance wide and grounded. He had his shepherd staff strapped to his back and a leather sling looped around his finger.

Damn it all, Crawley sighed. Time to play his role.

“What is this?” Crawley spat venomously “Am I just some dog that you come at me with sticks? Come here boy, and I’ll make you a feast for the ravens!”

“You come against me with sword and spear,” David plucked a stone from his pouch, and placed it in the cradle of the sling, “I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God whom you have defied,” The sling was set into motion, spinning and whistling menacingly, “This day the Lord will deliver you into my hands, and I’ll strike you down and cut off your head - and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel!”

David slung the stone.

Aziraphale gasped as the stone cracked Crawley right between the eyes.

“Bloody Hell!” The demon shrieked and crashed to earth.

The crowd of Israelites exploded into cheering and Aziraphale watched in horror as the boy lunged toward Crawley, unsheathing the demon’s sword to...To..!

In a split-second, likely foolish decision, Aziraphale snaps a miracle, praying that David and the others would only see what Aziraphale wants them to see-

The tale goes like this: David defeated Goliath with a sling and stone, and cut off the giant’s head. The triumphant boy was held aloft by his brothers, while David held up the massive bronze helmet, presumably containing said head. The surging throng of Israelite soldiers charged upon the Philistines and the Philistines ran for their lives. The body of Goliath was abandoned. That is what they all saw, anyway.

What they did not see was an angel of God scramble down the hill to the empty scale mail armor resting where Crawley had fallen. Aziraphale hefted the heavy suit from the ground and a coiled whip-like thing fell into the sand.

“Oh, goodness!” Aziraphale scooped up the little black serpent, “Sorry dear chap, you alright?”

“Feels wrong, someone else making me a sssnake,” Crawley hissed miserably, “Like tickling yourself. Hope I can change back.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be just fine,” Aziraphale gently swiped some sand from between Crawley’s eyes and the snake snarled in pain.

“Little sod got me good,” Crawley moaned while Aziraphale carefully arranged the snake into a drape of his robe, “Looks like you got your king, angel.”

Aziraphale looked to the empty Philistine camp, looking for the world like a storm had ripped through. Straining his ears, he could hear distant sounds of war and slaughter. He gulped and tried not to think about it. He’d done his job.

“You rest a while, why don’t you?” Aziraphale clutched the wrapped serpent close. The angel hoped to find his appetite again somewhere on the long trudge back to Judah.

“When you’re feeling better, I’ve got some wine you’ve just got to try.”

#good omens #good omens fanart #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #figgy does art #figgy does writing

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