#aziraphale is a classical man but I like to think he listen to classical version of most modern or most songs

[phantomram-b00]

You think there was a point Crowley did at one point kissed Aziraphale’s cheek from excitement? Picture this: aziraphale surprised him with a concert tickets of his favorite band/singer (maybe Queen or David Bowie), he realize there’s two tickets, Aziraphale wanted to go with him to check it out. Also subtle trying to ask him out on a date but their communication is nonexistent . This shocks Crowley as he never expect that the same angel that refuses to get with the times outfit wise is willing to go with him to a concert? But he was happy, and wouldn’t want to go with anyone else but Aziraphale. But now it the concert, Aziraphale can admit, the crowd is a bit loud, Crowley expected this and was about to surprise him a Walkman that has the cassette full of classical music but the concert starting, and soon they started their performance, aziraphale looks at crowley with pure happiness as Crowley is smiling so big, never seen the demon smile this wide before so to see him just smile was perfect for him. And show that he was having a good time. And aziraphale had to be honest, he started to get why Crowley enjoy this band; still won’t give up on his classical taste and will die on this hill but he must admit that the wily snake have quite fine taste in music.

Then. Aziraphale secretly did a miracle, and oh what’s that? The band decided to play Crowley’s favorite song from them, Crowley squeal with joy and even started singing with them. Without zero care, and he love it every bit of it. Just as the band finish the song, Crowley in all his excitement and euphoria cheers along with the crowd and kisses Aziraphale on the cheek heating up all the angel’s senses as his blushes profusely. It felt the world spun for just that one moment. Even if it was just a peck; it made aziraphale have butterflies all over his stomach. His heart skipping many beats, oh his heart was telling him to turn around and kiss him, to hug him—

Crowley realize as he step away for a moment covering his mouth. His face was growing red than his own hair, aziraphale was just as surprised as him no doubt, this was brave, they’ve never done this before. Never toke this step. Aziraphale and him merely forgotten at that moment their own fears of being caught by their sides. Crowley felt his eye stinging with tears going to apologize but Aziraphale stopped him by holding his hand for the first time and kisses his cheek; he felt as cheesy as this might be felt he might discorporate on the spot, but instead he felt he wanted to do backflips, give aziraphale many kisses all over, or stop time to just hug each other. One thing about him, his imaginations is a powerful beast, but all he did in this moment besides his face now red as he smiles giddily. Looking Aziraphale’s blue-ish hazel eyes and his angelic smile was enough to make him enjoy ever bit of this. “That was fast even for you Angel” Crowley said as his senses are heated and his head was spinning, aziraphale chuckled, “we can go fast just a little my dear.”

Oh how they wish they can look at each other, forget about the world. But their attention got cut short when the singer announced they were going to perform another song, the promptly draw their attention back at the show but they still hold each other hands the entire concert. After that, they wouldn’t stop talking about it, and even started to go on many concert dates from classical to rock, just they made sure aziraphale at least got his Walkman with him just incase if the environment got too loud or is overestimating for him. But rest to sure, this spark a new interest and even start a new routine of holding hands and maybeeee kissing each other cheeks. But overall, Crowley can say, that this was his favorite concert with Aziraphale.

(This is loosely based off of no other than Stardew Valley Shane’s heart event. I can’t find the gif so here the video of it instead to get the gist for those haven’t played stardew valley)

#good omens #ineffable husbands #Aziracrow #they still get giddy and happy whenever they kiss each other’s cheek or hold hands #they’re both hopeless romantic #aziraphale #crowley #good omens 2 #good omens fandom #headcanon #aziraphale is a classical man but I like to think he listen to classical version of most modern or most songs #i love this ship sm #if anything happens to them I will go feral #they’re not divorce your honor they’re going to make it #good omens season 2 #please I don’t want this to flop #ineffable idiots #everyday it's a getting closer #going faster than a rollercoaster #love like yours will surely come my way #good omens brainrot #hyperfixation #aziraphale good omens #good omens aziraphale #good omens aziracrow #crowley good omens #good omens crowley #good omens headcanons #anthony j crowley #stardew valley

[problematicwelshman]

Michael Sheen on Good Omens, sex scenes, and why Brexit led to his break-up

28 NOVEMBER 2018 • 4:18PM

Michael Sheen may be 49, and sporting a grey beard these days, but mention Martians and the actor reverts to a breathless, giddy teenager.

It all stems back to one evening when Sheen was about 12 years old. “It was a significant moment in my life,” he tells me over coffee in a London hotel. “My cousin Hugh was babysitting, and he put on Jeff Wayne’s War of the Worlds.

“I remember us lying there, listening in bed in the dark. It absolutely terrified me, but I got obsessed with it. I’m worryingly into it. I know every single note, every word.”

Wayne’s 1978 rock opera has had a similar effect on countless fans, even if it prompts a bemused shrug from non-converts. Without ever topping the charts, it has slowly become one of the best-selling British albums of all time, and this Friday begins a stadium tour featuring a 35-foot fire-breathing Martian and a 3D hologram of Liam Neeson. It’s a geeky novelty, but one of epic proportions.

When Wayne asked Sheen if he would star in a new radio drama-style version for the album’s 40th anniversary, alongside Taron Egerton and Ade Edmondson, the Welsh actor “bit his hand off”. It had always been his dream. For decades, whether doing serious political dramas such as Frost/Nixon or the great roles of classical theatre – Hamlet, Henry V – the one part Sheen really wanted involved Martians saying “ulla-ulla”.

“When I was doing Caligula at the Donmar [in 2003], I was filming The Deal during the day – which was the first time I’d played Tony Blair,” he says. “I’d be so tired, to wake myself up [before the play] I would do whole sections of War of the Worlds.” He can even beatbox the sound effects, he adds proudly. “The other guys in the dressing room would all be really pissed off with me - but I was playing Caligula, so they had to put up with it.”

Enthusing about an outtake on a collectors version of the album where you can hear Richard Burton coughing, Sheen briefly slips into an impression of the late actor. It’s eerily spot-on. Burton played the role he takes in the new version, which feels apt; growing up in Port Talbot, Sheen was aware of following in his footsteps.

“Coming from the same town as him really helped,” he says. “It’s place you wouldn’t necessarily think would be very sympathetic to acting – it’s an old steel town, very working class, quite a macho place – but because of Richard Burton, and then Anthony Hopkins, there’s the sense that it’s possible [to be an actor], and people have a respect for it.

“Ultimately, though, we’re very different actors - Burton was very much a charismatic leading man, and I’m probably more of a character actor. He wasn’t known for his versatility.” Sheen, by contrast, is a chameleon, as he proved with a remarkable run of biopics from 2006-9, playing Tony Blair, David Frost, Brian Clough, Kenneth Williams and the Roman emperor Nero on screen in the space of just four years.

He concedes that he may have made a “partly conscious” decision to avoid biopics since then. “I’ve been offered quite a few I didn’t do. I did feel, for a bit, it was probably good for me to move away from it – certainly from playing Blair at least, because that’s the one I became synonymous with. I’d quite happily play real people again, but it’s hard to find good scripts and it takes a lot of homework. With some parts I’ve been offered, you might only have a few weeks to prepare for it - and you can’t do that with Clough or Kenneth Williams.”

Despite his best intentions, Sheen is playing another Blair in his next film – The Voyage of Doctor Doolittle, where he’s the nemesis of Robert Downey Jr’s animal-loving hero. “I don’t know if they did that as a joke or not,” he says. “He’s Blair Müdfly – there’s an umlaut that he is very specific about. He was at college with Doolittle, and hates him, and becomes the antagonist because of his jealousy of Doolittle. Müdfly is employed to try and stop him from finding... what he wants to find.” As the film isn’t out for 13 months, Sheen is tight-lipped about further plot details – but he hints that Müdfly is “a villain in the tradition of Terry-Thomas villains.”

It’s the latest in a series of quirky, eyebrow-raising roles. After playing a vampire in the Twilight films and a werewolf in the Underworld franchise, Sheen says he would often be asked in interviews why a “serious classical actor” was wasting his time on fantasy films.

“There’s a lot of snobbishness about genre,” he says. “I think some of the greatest writing of the 20th and 21st centuries has happened in science fiction and fantasy.” While promoting the films, he would back up that point by citing his favourite authors – Stephen King, Philip K Dick, Neil Gaiman. “Time went on, and then one day my doorbell rang and there was a big box being delivered. I opened the box up and there was a card from Neil saying ‘From one fan to another’, and all these first editions of his books.”

It was the beginning an enduring friendship, which recently became a professional partnership: Sheen stars in Gaiman’s forthcoming TV series Good Omens, based on a 1990 novel he wrote with the late Terry Pratchett. Set in the days before a biblical apocalypse, its sprawling list of characters includes an angel called Aziraphale (Sheen) and a demon called Crowley (David Tennant) who have known each other since the days of Adam and Eve.

“I wanted to play Aziraphel being sort of in love with Crowley,” says Sheen. “They’re both very bonded and connected anyway, because of the two of them having this relationship through history - but also because angels are beings of love, so it’s inevitable that he would love Crowley. It helped that loving David is very easy to do.”

What kind of love - platonic, romantic, erotic? “Oh, those are human, mortal labels!” Sheen laughs. “But that was what I thought would be interesting to play with. There’s a lot of fan fiction where Aziraphale and Crowley get a bit hot and heavy towards each other, so it’ll be interesting to see how an audience reacts to what we’ve done in bringing that to the screen.”

Steamy fan fiction aside, it’s unlikely Good Omens will match the raunch levels of his last major TV series, Masters of Sex (2013-16), a drama about the pioneering sexologists Masters and Johnson. In the wake of the last year’s #MeToo revelations, HBO has introduced “intimacy co-ordinators” for its shows - but, Sheen tells me, Masters of Sex was ahead of the curve in handling sex scenes with caution.

“It was a lot easier for myself and Lizzy [Caplan, his co-star], as we were comfortable in that set-up, because we had status in it. But for people in the background, or doing just one scene, it’s different,” he says. “It became clear very quickly that there needed to be guidelines for people who didn’t have that kind of status, who would probably not speak up. We started talking about that, and decided there need to be clear rules.”

Sex scenes, he continues, “should absolutely be treated the same way as other things where there’s a danger. If you’re doing stage-fighting, or pyrotechnics, there are rules and everyone just sticks to them. Whether it’s physical danger, or emotional, or psychological, it’s just as important.”

Despite having several film and TV parts on the horizon, Sheen says he is still in semi-retirement from acting. In 2016 he hinted that he might be quit for good to campaign against populism. “In the same way as the Nazis had to be stopped in Germany in the Thirties, this thing that is on the rise has to be stopped," he said at the time. But now things are less cut. “I have two jobs now, essentially,” he says. "Acting takes second place."

While many celebrity activists limit their politics to save-the-dolphins posturing, Sheen has been working with a range of unfashionable grassroots groups aiming to combat inequality, support small communities and fight fake news. As well as supporting Welsh credit unions, and sponsoring a women’s football team in the tiny village of Goytre, he tells me that he's been “commissioning research into alternative funding models for local journalism”.

If he returns to the stage any time soon, he says it’s likely to be in a show about “political historical socio-economic stuff, a one-man show with very low production values”. It’s clear he’s not in it for the glamour.

Sheen was inspired to become more politically active by the Brexit referendum – which also indirectly led him to break up with his partner of four years, the comedian Sarah Silverman. At the time, they were living together in the US. “We both had very similar drives, and yet to act on those drives pulled us in different directions – because she is American and I’m Welsh,” he explains.

“After the Brexit vote, and the election where Trump became president, we both felt in different ways we wanted to get more involved. That led to her doing her show I Love You America [in which Silverman interviewed people from across the political spectrum], and it led to me wanting to address the issues that I thought led some people to vote the way they did about Brexit, in the area I come from and others like it.”

They still speak lovingly of each other, which makes their decision to end a happy relationship for the sake of politics look painfully quixotic. Talking about it, Sheen sounds a little wistful, but he’s utterly certain they made the right choice. “I felt a responsibility to do something, but it did mean coming back here – which was difficult for us, because we were very important to each other. But we both acknowledge that each of us had to do what we needed to do.”

#michael sheen #dolittle #the voyage of doctor dolittle #he got so irrationally mad at this article on twitter #but hey bringing it back because people wanted to read it #and it had info about dolittle #but it's locked behind a paywall #so here u go fam

[aheavenofhell]

Shooting Stars

dedicated to and inspired by @mindsummerdream

The thing about being an astronomer is, you don't get much, well, face to face contact in your profession. That is to say, though Crowley can gaze at the stars from afar, he has never had the opportunity to actually look at one—to touch it, feel it, look at it up close. So when the London Center of Space Exploration writes him an email describing an asteroid that they think will hit Shaftesbury, and they want him to go and take samples, he is, of course, ecstatic. Normally, geologists do the collecting bit, but apparently a professor at the Center had read a rather reputable paper by A J Crowley and had decided he would be exactly the man for the job. Crowley couldn't possibly disagree. A shooting star is, of course, not really a star. It is actually tiny bits of dust and rock called meteoroids, that, when spiraling into Earth's atmosphere, begins to burn. If anything survives the flames and hits earth—that is what we call meteorites. The flames are what cause the fantastic streaks of light that spin through the sky. Why does this happen? Sometimes, as the Earth orbits the Sun, it passes through debris left by a comet. This causes a meteor shower. Of course, Crowley is after an asteroid, which is like a much bigger version of a meteorite. Crowley had watched many meteor showers, but had never actually come in contact with one. He didn't have any type of proper geological sampling tools, so he settled on taking gloves and plastic bags and a sharpie, for labeling the bags. Oh, and a bottle of Loire Rose. He preferred dark, dry wine for special occasions, and it would be a celebration, of course. The professor on the phone had warned him specifically not to go to the area during the shower, but he dutifully ignored that and took a train to Shaftesbury the next morning. He shacked up in a nice local inn for the night, where he spent most of his time methodically looking over the pictures that determined the asteroid's orbit and descent. Exactly where it was going to hit was sketchy at best, but Crowley had a sort of sixth sense about this one. He wouldn't know if he was right until the next evening. He packed up his backpack of essentials, grabbed his smallest telescope, and started his trek. Shaftesbury was a rural town, small, quaint. Crowley preferred London's bustle and noise, but he could appreciate places like this—places where the light of the city didn't drown out the lights in the sky. It was an excellent place to set up a telescope and wile the night away. Of course, he would've liked to have someone to do it with. Got a bit. . .odd. Just talking to yourself about things. He would like to have a pair of eager ears once in a while, someone else who saw the same beauty in the universe he did. Oh well. Maybe someday. For now, he focused on where his astronomy-senses were taking him. He ended up in a large, empty field. It would be very nice if the asteroid were to land there, because it would make finding all the pieces much easier. Crowley sat down in the grass, opened his bottle of wine, and waited. For maybe an hour, he sat, just drinking and watching. He never lost his sense of childish wonder when it came to space—every time he looked up, he still felt that same sense of excitement and curiosity. What's up there? Will I ever see it? He was about to. It came streaking through the sky at exactly 12:34 AM. Crowley knew, because as it did he scrambled to check his watch and write the time down before watching in amazement as it soared just over the treeline, the light dying as it fell. He gathered up his things and ran in the direction it had gone. He wasn't too far off, because it ended up only being about a two kilometers away. Of course, two kilometers feels a bit longer when it is night time and there are mosquitoes about and the terrain is rough. Still, not too shabby. He brandished his flashlight as he swept the landscape, hunting for the crater. There it was. Big! Much bigger than he thought it would be! He felt a fresh wave of excitement wash over him. Cautiously, he approached the crater—all organic matter left would certainly be hot. But he could, at least, look at it. He got to the edge, shined his flashlight down, and— There was no asteroid at all. There was a man. There are several reasons Crowley found this extremely disconcerting: 1. A lack of asteroid was, admittedly, very disappointing. 2. The man was not burning himself alive, somehow. 3. The man was glowing. “Hello?!” Crowley yelped, because it was the only thing he could think to say. “Erm, hello!” the man in the crater said. “I seem to have made a bit of a mistake. Oh dear, this is very embarrassing. Gabriel will not be happy with me—“ “Isn't it hot down there?” Crowley asked, deciding that the best way to handle this would be to roll with it. “It's a bit toasty, just comfortable, I'd say. Oh no! Now this is a problem.” This is where Crowley was doubly confused. He was almost as confused as the first time he'd used an ATM. Because the man had just stretched out a feathered wing from his own back. And it looked. . .not good. The bird-man flinched as he attempted to flex it. It was bent all the wrong way. “That's a wing,” Crowley said stupidly. “It's a problem,” bird-man agreed. He climbed out of the hole. “I'm sorry, I don't think I properly introduced myself. I'm Aziraphale.” He stuck out his hand. Crowley, dumbfounded, shook it. “Crowley,” he said. “And, ehm, what exactly. . .are you?” “Oh yes. I'm an angel, a Principality, to be precise. I was popping over here for a visit, they have the best fish'n chips here, you know, and I must have hit something—“ “So wait.” Crowley held up his hands to pause him. “You're an angel. Like, a supernatural entity that fell from the sky.” “Just the sort.” Aziraphale smiled. It was a bit adorable. “And now your wing's injured,” Crowley added as an afterthought. “And I have no asteroid to bring back to London.” The angel frowned. “I was mistaken for an asteroid? So you're some sort of scientist, then?” “An astronomer,” Crowley clarified, a bit bitterly. Now wasn't really the time to be petty, but, well—he'd wanted his rock. Aziraphale wrung his hands. “Do you think, that, perhaps—“ he licked his lips, “—perhaps I could accompany you, back to London? I could even miracle us there, so you needn't pay for a ticket home. Just—you know, until I fix my wing.” Crowley stared at him. “You want to stay at my flat?” “You seem like a very nice human, and I'm in a rather tight spot. You see, I was already reprimanded last week over an incident with a dead cat that came back to life a bit too suspiciously—“ “You, an angel, want to stay at my flat because—because you don't want to get in trouble with. . .?” “Gabriel. Archangel. Big deal, you know.” Crowley put a hand to his forehead. Maybe he'd had a bit too much to drink. The angel was giving him an awfully pleading look, though. And his wing did look all bent and pathetic. . .and he did come here to bring back a shooting star. “Fine,” he said. What could go wrong? When Crowley woke up in his flat, a tad hungover and definitely spotty, his first thought was that he'd had a very bizarre dream. Then he heard someone humming in the kitchen. He leaped out of bed, silently hoping it was some sort of burglar, and crept into the kitchen. Nope. It was Aziraphale. He had cooked a rather nice looking breakfast, and made tea, and was now quietly humming “Water Music” and reading in a chair Crowley knew he didn't have before. “How'd you do all this?” Crowley asked, rummaging around for some aspirin and seltzer. “Good morning,” Aziraphale said, looking up in surprise. “I went shopping—your fridge and cabinets are rather barren, you know, and thought you might enjoy a spot of breakfast.” Crowley raised his eyebrows. “I meant, how did we get back here?” “Oh! A small miracle—literally. I just sort of—wished us back.” Crowley decided that was enough information for now. “How's the wing?” he asked. Wincing, the angel stretched it out. It looked worse than before. Crowley tentatively touched it, and Aziraphale immediately flinched. “It will heal,” the angel muttered. “Want an aspirin?” Crowley said, in an attempt to be helpful. “That's very kind, dear boy, but I think some rest will be the best medicine.” Crowley shrugged, and found very suddenly that his hangover was cured. Maybe having an angel around wouldn't be so bad. For the next week, Crowley got to know Aziraphale a bit. His habits were niche, but not peculiar. He seemed to enjoy books, and food, and classical music. He often invited Crowley to dine out, as a sort of payment for letting him stay, and his taste in restaurants was admittedly excellent. Crowley often found him pouring over an old tome or making notes beside one. By the end of the week, they had fallen into a sort of comfortable pattern—they were very compatible flatmates (a rare thing indeed) and Crowley found he was actually enjoying the angel's company. He told Professor Knox that the asteroid was simply a no-show, a mistake, and went back to going to the Observatory and studying there. One evening, Aziraphale even went with him, eager to “learn something new” and perhaps even “spot that one that Uriel said looked like him”. Crowley thought it would be annoying, but. . .Aziraphale actually listened to him. He genuinely seemed to find what Crowley was saying interesting, and made comments and asked questions. By the end of the night, Crowley had smiled and laughed more times than he had in years. But the angel couldn't stay forever. His wing was healing—it got worse first, but then gradually began to heal. Angels heal faster than humans, and Crowley suspected that Aziraphale's wing had already healed a while ago. But he was just as reluctant to leave as Crowley was to let him go. “Perhaps we should talk,” the angel quietly said one night. They sat down, facing each other, and Aziraphale suddenly looked quite sad, and Crowley knew what was about to come. Aziraphale managed to meet his eyes, and smile a bit. “My wing is healed,” he said softly. “I want to thank you—for everything. You've truly been gener—“ “Right, yeah,” Crowley said, words a bit thick. “'S no problem.” Aziraphale smiled. “Well, as a thank you, of sorts—I had something arranged.” He handed Crowley a scroll. Crowley went to unravel it, but Aziraphale stopped him. “After I leave,” he explained. Crowley nodded. “Well, erm, good luck,” he said. “Back up there, Hope you don't get in any trouble.” “Thank you, dear fellow. And good luck to you here. Perhaps I could. . .visit.” They shook hands, and Crowley tried his best not to cry, or kiss him, or cry. “Right. Goodbye.”   And the angel was gone. It took Crowley a few moments to gather himself before he could properly examine the scroll. He swallowed, turning it over in his hands. It had a lovely red ribbon around it. Gingerly, he untied the bow and let the paper unravel. It read, in very elegant handwriting, like this: Anthony J Crowley, In the Name of Heaven Itself, I, Principality Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, dub you Saint of Astronomy. May the stars glimmer in your honor. Aziraphale got back to Heaven, and found it a bit empty. “Sorry I'm late,” he told Gabriel, even though time didn't actually exist there. “Aziraphale. How is “earth” doing?” “Good, good.” He walked around for a bit, feeling strangely saddened. He wondered if Crowley was reading his letter—if he liked it. He found himself thinking about the human for a very long time. I think I must have left something in his flat, he thought hopefully. Maybe. . .my first edition copy of Dorian Gray? Now I can't have that going missing. . . “I left something, I'll be right back!” he squeaked suddenly to Gabriel. “Aziraphale—“ He disappeared. “Crowley! Are you still here? I—“ He was interrupted as a certain saint yanked him into a kiss. Oh, he thought. I think I could get used to this.

#ineffable husbands #writing prompt #good omens #wingfic #au

[thats-what-sidhe-said]

The Ineffable Place

I was listening to Good Omens on audiobook and then I came home and watched The Good Place and I had a Thought. What if this guy-

-was the son of these guys?

So I wrote a quick thing. (Spoilers for the end of season 1.)

"Here it is!" Michael said. He swept his hand towards the little town.

"It's charming," Aziraphale said. "With the..." he pointed at a shop window, "and the..." he pointed at a flower bed. "It's quite clever. It really could be designed by one of ours."

Michael beamed.

"It's not very efficient, is it?" Crowley asked, frowning. "All this for four people? You could just lock them in a room and have them do data entry."

"But there's no style to it, Dad," Michael said. "You've always been Up There. You have no idea how dull it gets Down Here. Besides," he added, "once I make a success of it, I plan to expand."

"He gets this from you," Aziraphale said. "You've never been content with the classics. There was the recorder-"

"Didn't create it," Crowley said. "I just suggested they give it to schoolchildren."

"There was that paper clip you could turn into a cat," Aziraphale said.

"Ah, Clippy," Crowley said fondly. "I got a commendation for that, you know."

"And the vampires. The ones that sparkle," Aziraphale said.

"I did not do that," Crowley said sharply. "I made a tiny comment to Bifrons and he went off on his own."

Aziraphale turned to his son. "Why don't you show us around, Michael?"

"Yes, come on!" Michael led them up the street and stopped in front of a restaurant. "I love this one."

Aziraphale looked at the menu put up in the window. "Why, this sounds lovely. Grilled lobster with honey. Glazed pork chop with Apple-Brandy Compote."

"Does it come out dry?" Crowley asked.

"Oh, no," Michael said. "It's delicious. Better than any you'd find up there. But it's only open from six to seven in the evening and they don't take reservations." He grinned. "The vegan sushi bar is open all night."

"Not bad, not bad," Crowley said.

"There's a book shop," Aziraphale said, and looked warily at Michael.

"Nothing like yours, Dad," Michael said quickly, before his father could get offended. "Self-help, celebrity bios, you know. Abridged versions of the good stuff. There's no seating either."

"That's just good sense," Aziraphale protested.

"But it's no fun for the customer," Michael said. A young man with black-rimmed glasses and a button-down shirt came around the corner.

"Oh, hello," he said. "Do we have new people in the neighborhood?"

"They're visiting," Michael said. "Chidi, these are my parents, Crowley and Aziraphale." To his parents, he said, "This is Chidi."

They all shook hands and Chidi said, "There was a- a Satanist in Britain called Crowley-"

"No relation," Crowley said quickly.

"Of course not," Chidi said.

"Whoa, hey, who are you?" A blonde woman approached them. "I love those sunglasses," she said to Crowley, taking a step closer to him and looking him up and down.

"Eleanor!" Michael said, carefully stepping between her and Crowley. "I'd like you to meet my parents."

"Parents!" Eleanor winced. "Hi!"

"This is Crowley," Michael said, stepping aside. "And Aziraphale," he added, "Aging is irrelevant. We choose our appearance."

"Right, that makes sense," Eleanor said. She scratched the back of her neck. "You missed all the fun, Michael," she said, forcing an artificial smile. "Chidi gave a lecture. On Kant. I'm not sure how long it was, because there were no clocks in the room. Or windows. But it was...." She searched for a word, then gave up and just kept up her smile.

"Kant?" Aziraphale said, interested. "You enjoy his work?"

"You've read him?" Chidi's eyes went wide.

"Oh, yes!" Aziraphale said. "Read the original drafts, in fact. Gave him a few pointers."

"Original... drafts...?" Chidi's voice went into a squeak.

"Why, yes," Aziraphale said. "Good fellow. Got a bit melancholy after a few drinks, though. Oh, I could tell you stories. Do you want to discuss his work?" He turned to Michael. "Do you mind?"

"Go ahead," Michael said. He jerked his thumb to the left. "The coffee shop's a great place to sit. And it's open mic night!"

After they left, Eleanor said to Crowley, "I bet you have a bunch of stories about Michael as a kid."

"Oh, yeah," Crowley said. "Don't know if he's told you, but Aziraphale and I both work U-" Michael coughed. "Down There," Crowley corrected. "There was a September, don't remember which one, rainy, just chilly enough for a jacket, so he picked out his red one and we went to the duck pond-"

"Dad!" Michael said quickly. "I don't think that's appropriate for Eleanor." He stared at his father meaningfully.

"Ah," Crowley said. "Perhaps not."

"Why not?" Eleanor asked. "I bet you were adorable!" she said to Michael.

"Aziraphale can tell you one of his stories when he gets back," Crowley said. "Much more appropriate for the venue."

"They may be a while," Eleanor said. "Chidi's very," she considered what word to use, "dedicated to the subject."

"Well, perhaps we should get something to eat," Michael said. "Come on, Eleanor. You like sushi, don't you?"

---

By Airawyn

#good omens #the good place #aziraphale #crowley #chidi #eleanor #michael #my writing #fic

[eveningstarcatcher]

Day 23: Ghosts

“Marley was dead to begin with.”

“That’s how it starts?” Crowley pulled the book down. His head was laid in Aziraphale’s lap, head tilted to the side to see the angel’s face around the old tome.

“Yes, dear.” Aziraphale smiled softly down through his spectacles, one hand running through red hair.

“Marley was dead to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that.” Aziraphale continued, lifting the book again.

“Do you even need the book? Thought you’d have it memorized,” Crowley teased. 

“I do.” Azirphale lowered the book again.

“So, if you’ve got it memorized, why do you need it?”

“It’s not the same without it. I like the feel of the book in my hands, the smell of paper and ink, the sound of the pages turning.” Azirphale held the book to his chest as he spoke.

“So sentimental.” Crowley reached up and pressed one long finger to the tip of aziraphale’s nose, causing him to squeak.

“Crowley!” He flushed, rubbing his nose as the demon laughed.

“This is going to take all week if you don’t settle down!” Aziraphale scolded, forcing his laughter down.

“I don’t mind, I could stay here all week!” Crowley winked down at him.

“Well, if you’re not going to behave!” Aziraphale set the book on the side table and gently rolled Crowley off of his lap and onto the floor, crossing his arms as he looked down at the heap on demon laughing on the floor.

“You pushed me off!”

“I did. You’re an absolute menace!” Azirphael let his smile break through the stern look, softening his eyes.

“Maybe so, but I’m your menace.” Crowley sat up and set his chin on Aziraphale’s knee, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

“That you are, dear.” Aziraphale leaned down to kiss Crowley. “Now, are you ready to continue with the story?”

“Yeah,” Crowley pushed himself up and reclaimed his place across the couch and Aziraphale’s lap.

“Good,” his fingers resumed running through Crowley’s hair as he lifted the book with the other hand. “No more interrupting.” He took his hand from his hair and pressed a finger to his partner’s nose.

“Hey!” Crowley grabbed the hand, scowling at it.

“Payback,” Aziraphale smirked.

Crowley scowled at Aziraphale then pressed a kiss to the angel’s knuckles and released his hand.

Crowley had seen many film adaptations of this story over the years, even a few stage versions, but this was by far his favorite. The comforting sound of Aziraphale reading each word with care, the feel of his hand in his hair, the warmth from his body. Crowley tried hard to fight down laughter as aziraphale did voices for each character. It was when Aziraphale deepened his voice to a joyous boom on “come in and know me better, man!” that Crowley could no longer hold it in, erupting into laughter against his will.

“What?” Aziraphale was confused by the outburst, as if this was a normal occurrence. 

“Just you, angel!” Crowley managed to choke out.

“What about me?” Aziraphael was getting defensive.

“Oh, it’s nothing bad. I just like the voices is all.”

“You don’t like them?” The defensive expression was replaced with something closer to embarrassment, but only a glimpse of it. It was as if Crowley were looking through a frosted window and could only see a shadow moving behind it. He sprang up, turning his body to face Aziraphale.

“No, I love them!” Crowley smiled wide and bright and toothy. “It’s the best I’ve ever heard.”

“That can’t possibly be true, but thank you all the same,” Aziraphale face was set in what could only be called a poor excuse for a grin.

“Angel, come here,” Crowley opened his arms and wrapped him up in an embrace. “I’m not joking. I’m dead serious. I’ve seen, what, a hundred versions of this and yours is my favorite. Hands down. No competition.”

“Really?” Aziraphale looked up at him.

“Really. Have I ever lied to you?” Crowley asked, cupping Aziraphale’s chin.

“I suppose not,” he replied sadly.

“No, no. Why are you still sad?” Crowley gently tugged the angel’s chin up, but their eyes did not meet.

“I have,” Aziraphale said quietly. “So many times. I didn’t want to, but I did.”

“Oh, angel, no. Don’t do this to yourself,” Crowley pleaded.

“But it’s true! You didn’t deserve it. You never lied to me.” Aziraphale’s eyes were intense and Crowley could see the brokenness behind them. “I just…”

“I know. It’s okay. It all worked out.” Crowley ran his hands over Aziraphale’s back, causing him to press further against the demon’s chest.

“Thank you for coming back. Every time.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta watch out for you.” Crowley chuckled. “Besides, how do you know that the lies weren’t part of the plan. Could be ineffable.”

Aziraphale pushed away and stared at Crowley, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. “Did you just say -”

“Ineffable? Yes. Feel better? Good!” Crowley leaned into the space between them, softly pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s, then pulled back again. “Now, I believe we still have to see what is learned from the second spirit.”

He reached across, grabbed the book and flipped through it to find the page they’d left off on. Aziraphale just watched him with an affectionate softness.

“Here,” Crowley handed the book to his partner.

Aziraphale took the book with one hand and with the other, wrapped around Crowley to pull him close. He kissed him once softly, then again, still gentle, but with more behind it. Every lie, every time Aziraphale chose heaven over Crowley, every moment of doubt in their side was left behind. The door was closed and locked with a kiss. Crowley pulled the angel closer and kissed away all the doubt and guilt.

“And so as Tiny Tim observed, God bless us, every one!” Aziraphale sighed contentedly and set the book down on the side table.

“Still my favorite.” Crowley mumbled sleepily from the angel’s lap, eyes closed, but still listening attentively.

“Thank you, dear.”

“Should’ve read it ages ago. We demons could have learned a few tricks.”

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale’s expression was bordering on scandalized.

“Ghosts showing up to terrify people into becoming good? it sounds more like something my lot… I mean Hell would do. But not the good part, just scaring them. For fun.” Crowley smirked, eyes still closed.

“Leave it to you to take this classic work and turn it into an agenda!” Aziraphale scoffed dramatically, tugging at Crowley’s hair.

“What? M’just saying!” He swatted Aziraphale’s hand away, then sat up.

“I, for one, think that this is a beautiful story about the true nature and power of love.” Aziraphale placed a hand on the cover of the book.

“I completely agree, but it’s not the best one.” Crowley feigned nonchalance.

“Oh?” Aziraphale’s attention was back on his partner.

“Well, I once heard one about an angel and a demon stopping the end of the world. Love was featured pretty heavily in that one.”

“It was?” Aziraphale’s cheeks were pink, eyes wide and sparkling.

“Well, yeah. Obviously.” Crowley fought down the pink trying to burn in his cheeks. “You love humanity and Adam loves the world and so it didn’t all end up in a puddle of burning goo. Obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Aziraphal chuckled. “I think that’s the best one, too.”

#31 days of ineffables #good omens #Aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #drawlight #drawlight's 31 days of ineffables #almost caught up! #lets see if i can write another before i fall asleep #my writing