Selling South Downs - Rated T, 5.9k words, collab with @slurpi13
An estate agent helps Aziraphale and Crowley search for their dream home, becoming increasingly exasperated at their nonsensical requirements and strange behaviour as they reject house after house.
Indulgences of the Flesh - Rated E, 3.7k words
Crowley gifts Aziraphale with flowers and chocolate for Valentine's Day, and receives a proper reward.
Is that a snake in your pants or are you just excited to see me - Rated M, 3.6k words
Aziraphale and Crowley meet the newest shopkeeper on Whickber Street, Mike Hunt, who seems determined to hit on Aziraphale. Crowley decides to take matters into his own scales.
WIPs
Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death - Rated E, 6/8 Chapters, 35.2k words & counting!
Crowley discovers the real reason why Aziraphale accepted the Metatron’s ‘job offer’.
the thing that makes a good tragedy is that despite the events of the story being preventable, there is a sense that this is the only way it could have gone with the characters the story creates.
this is something that Good Omens 3 completely fails at. Its so annoying to me when people say things along the lines of "this is the only way it could have ended" about the finale because even as a tragedy (which it was not intended to be and is not listed as one if its generas), it is written so poorly that this is not the case. The characters from the book would never have acted the way the characters in the finale did. Crowley is supposed to be an optimist, Aziraphale is supposed to be smart. The choice these characters made in the end is nihilistic and depressing, and doesnt even make sense in the context of the story. There were so many other ways to end things presented in the finale, some of them introduced in the same movie just to be ignored in the end. Jesus could have played a part in the decision, being half god (the one offering the decision) and part human (the ones affected by the decision). Turning a bookshop full of books into hundreds of books of life provides infinite ways for the story to end; the characters can literally choose to write whatever they want into reality. God was apparently willing to do whatever Aziraphale and Crowley wanted, including bringing all the dead humans back to life, so why didnt they ask for anything other than the worst possible option? Especially when the characters are based on thousands of years of tricking people and coming up with creative solutions to get what they want, it makes no sense for them to ignore all their other options and give up. Theres just so many ways the story could have ended, so it makes it cheap and confusing when the characters choose the most tragic ending for no in universe reason, just because the author wanted a sad/bittersweet (theres no sweet in this bitter though) ending.
So tragic that one of my favorite shows, Good Omens, only has one season. At least it ends with Crowley and Aziraphale dining at the Ritz on a little dinner date.
It has come to my attention that the character and pairings tags on AO3 have consolidated Aziraphale with New Universe Asa, Crowley with New Universe Anthony, and A/C with Anthony/Asa. I have put in a request to AO3 to have these tags separated out. But currently, if you search for A/C pairings, you will get fics that are new universe Anthony/Asa even if they are not tagged with A/C.
However, there is a way to fix this in your own searches.
When you search for fics with Aziraphale, and/or Crowley, and/or Aziraphale/Crowley, you can filter out anything tagged Asa and/or Anthony and/or "Fellony." You can, of course, do this yourself by simply setting the search parameters as such (e.g. if you wanted all Aziraphale fics and no Asa fics), but I thought it might help to provide you with an easy link for the pairing search.
This is a search for Aziraphale/Crowley fics that excludes fics that are tagged Anthony/Asa (either solely or additionally).
To clarify for those who don't know, "free the nipple" isn't about going braless, it's about going topless
No shirt, no bra, completely bare torso, just like cis men are allowed to
It's about desexualizing breasts and "female presenting nipples" and not being criminalized for our bodies if we want to go topless because it's a million damn degrees out. This was a popular growing movement that was still widely known a decade ago!
And the fact that not wearing a bra is so discouraged and stigmatized that people think the movement was about being able to go braless under your shirt in public rather than about being able to not wear a shirt at all says a lot about how far we've backslid in the past decade
One of my favourite GO moments is when Nina calls Crowley weird bc she really breaks the glittery 4th wall of the story and makes you realise how deeply strange they must look.
To everyone on the street there is just this extremely gay, pushy bookseller bookhoarder who probably sells something illicit or runs a backroom operation in his shop to stay in business in the middle of Soho. Then there’s his off putting emo rottweiler husband/body guard/possibly a sugar baby because his only job seems to be mogging during their thinly veiled public dom/sub play while he drives the other one around at a gazillion miles an hour in Draculas favourite hot wheel.
I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.
-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a
~*Spiritual Experience*~
I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.
Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.
He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only
BARELY
enough space for the fireworks
and certainly none for his truck.
So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand.
This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.
He begins,
and this is crucial to what happens next,
by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it
unsecured
on his lawn.
Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.
His process for unloading the fireworks is to
1. Climb up through the gate into the bed of his pickup truck (a feat made unusually difficult due to the slope of his driveway, and this man's fascinating decision to wear the world's Siffest and least Flexible Denim Overalls.
2. Once in the pickup bed, he selects ONE (1) box from the pile
He is apparently from a niche religious institution that doesn't believe in stacking things.
3. Carries it awkwardly around the palette that barely fits in the truck bed
4. His wife yells "Be careful!" when he nearly falls out of the pickup.
5. He Yells "SHADDUP!" back at her.
6. The Large German Shepherd barks from inside the house.
7. He yells "SHADDUP!" back at her too.
8. He sets the (1) box down on the gate
9. Slowly and awkwardly climbs out of the pickup bed
10. picks the box back up, and carries it into the garage.
Question: Aren't you going to help this poor man?
Answer: Absolutely Not.
There's four military veterans, MANY dogs, and several people with dementia in this neighborhood, all of whom are terrified by this chicanery every year and many neighbors have repeatedly asked him to maybe do the fireworks somewhere else.
(This is the Eighth Year Running he's held a major demolition event in his driveway, and for those of you who can do math, you may be able to guess the precipitating incident to this little ritual)
Additionally, I live in Colorado, a state marginally less prone to spontaneous and catastrophic conflagrations than a rotting grain silo, but only marginally.
Our recreational explosives laws are written accordingly.
I am in fact calling the Non Emergency line to report Fireworks violations, and reading off the brand labels to someone named Dorothy, who is gleefully totaling up a SPECTACULAR fine for my oblivious neighbor.
However, while I'm on the phone with Dorothy, I notice the wind begin to pick up.
and by "Notice" I mean "The Industrial Saran Wrap he left on his Lawn earlier is suddenly swept up about 100 feet into the air by an updraft intense enough to make my ears pop"
And by "Pick Up" I mean "I look up to see the sky has turned a fun and exciting shade of glass green, and the bottoms of the clouds are bumpy and rounded, and the overall effect is not unlike looking up through the bottom of the cup at God's Matcha Boba Tea."
For those of you who do not live in places with Inclement Weather, these conditions mean "You have about 30 seconds before a Major Meteorological Event Occurs."
I move under the eaves.
"Hang on Dorothy." I say, nose filling with Petrichor. "The show is about to be cancelled."
"Oh, that doesn't matter!" Dorothy cheerfully informs me. "It's illegal for him just to possess those, no matter if he actually gets to set them off or not."
"Terrific, because he's gotten maybe five boxes out of a hundred inside."
Sometimes,
the weather gods are Merciful and give you a verbal warning, typically in the kind of thunderclap that makes your ears ring.
The Gods were not merciful today.
It's not often that I am in the time, place, correct angle or in a properly observational frame of mind to see this,
But I got to see it today.
Huh. I thought. I've never seen a cloud just DIVE for the ground before.
Oh. I realized as it got closer.
That's RAIN.
Sometimes, a thunderstorm will form in such a way that the rain that would normally be distributed over an area of say,
five to tent square miles,
is instead concentrated into an area of say,
my neighborhood exactly.
So today, I was granted the rare privilege of being able to actually see the literal wall of water descend from On High and DIRECTLY onto my porch, my street, and my neighbor's truck, and his pile of unwrapped fireworks.
The sheer impact force of the downpour immediately scatters the teetering pile of fireworks boxes in the back of the truck, like the wrath of God striking down the tower of Babel.
Boxes tumble, then are washed out of the bed of the truck by the deluge.
Smaller Boxes are carried down the road in a little line by the stream forming in the gutter, like little impotent explosive ducklings.
My neighbor was definitely yelling something, but I could not hear what over the DEAFENING noise several million gallons of water makes upon high-speed contact with the earth's surface, but there was a lot of arm-waving and faces turning red as he went looking for the saran wrap that had probably blown to Nebraska by now, while his wife started disassembling the complex three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking material goods in search of a tarp.
They do not have a tarp.
They have one of those wretched Thin Blue Line flags though, and my neighbor jogs out in a futile effort to cover what's left in the truck.
Which is when the hail begins.
"HELLO?" Yelled Dorothy.
"HI!" I shouted. "WE'RE HAVING SOME WEATHER!"
"OH GOOD!" she shouts back. "WE NEED THE MOISTURE!"
I watch for a minute longer, but the loss was immediate and catastrophic- the hail is the size of marbles and dense and cares not for your pitiful cardboard and cellophane, ripping the boxes asunder and punching holes in the few things covered in plastic.
The colors on the Thin Blue Line Flag are seeping all over the remains of that it was supposed to protect in a particularly apt visual metaphor.
Not even the few boxes that made it into the garage are spared, as the German Shepherd escapes from indoors, and in an attempt to assist her humans, jumps directly into the small stack of not-yet-ruined boxes, scattering them into the driveway and deluge. She even picks one up so her humans will chase her around the yard, before dropping it in the gutter to be swept away.
So.
I was raised Agnostic
-but even I can recognize when God slaps someone upside the head and shouts "NO!" at them.
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