Good Omens + Parallels

My idea of why Aziraphale needs him to be an angel.

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let's be honest, how else did we think he got all those fire extinguishers?

This scene pulls at my heart. Below, Smaug just told Bilbo that Thorin Oakenshield weighed the value of his life and found it worth nothing. His response to that? Laughing with a huge grin on his face and eyes turned down, almost like he's remembering all the times' Thorin proved that statement false.

Smaug is a VERY intelagent dragon. He immediately picked up on that sure little laugh, which brings me to the below. Smaug doesn't say corrupt his mind. No, he says, corrupt his heart and drive him mad. He knows that is what will shake him. Look at Bilbo's face in the first gif. His look is defiant and unbelieving, but in the second gif, he starts rapidly blinking and losing his composure. That is terror, worry, and fear. Not for himself but because he doesn't want to lose the dwarf he loves.

You is Fantabulous

Hey you

You, reading this post. No, not the guy behind you I'm talking about

YOU

I hope you're having a good day.

If not, take a deep breath. One foot in front of the other.

you got this.

I believe in you

You're worth it

Hiya, could you pretty pretty please do a 12. and 33. prompt for the ineffable husbands? I keep thinking of Bentley just locking them in and not letting them out until they talk cupboard trope style 😔

Yessssss :D

---

"Now you listen to me Crowley, you are going to tell your car—"

"Our car."

Aziraphale stops. Blinks. Gives up on fighting with the door handle.

"What did you say?" he asks.

"It's our car," Crowley repeats, more of a mumble this time, looking away from Aziraphale. A raindrop runs down the window, and he follows it with his eyes until it pools at the bottom, joining the great conference of former raindrops gathering there. They're in for a night of it, by the looks of the sky. "You said that. You made that true. So you're as much at fault as I am for it locking us in."

"I don't see how this is my fault. You kidnapped—"

"Kidnapped? I rescued you. That's. That's what I do. That's what the almighty made me for, I think," he huffs, still not looking at Aziraphale.

One rescue does not a rift mend. He's owed an apology. And even though everything's gone to heaven, like he predicted, he still hasn't gotten one.

He'd take a lot less. He doesn't need to hear that he was right. He needs to hear that Aziraphale's sticking with him this time.

The Bentley is, at least temporarily, seeing to that. Crowley gives the steering wheel a gentle pat. He genuinely has nothing to do with the doors being locked and apparently immune to miracles or temptation, but he thinks it's trying to help.

If nothing else, the constant itch of not being able to reach out and touch Aziraphale, if he wanted, has vanished for a bit. The ache of missing him has eased back just a fraction. It's a good car. A good, loyal car.

"You're cold," he says, shrugging out of his jacket without even having to look at Aziraphale. It's cold out tonight, in the middle of bloody nowhere, and he gets cold easily. Crowley doesn't want him to be cold.

"You'll be cold," Aziraphale says as Crowley shoves his body-warmed jacket at him.

"Demon," he says. "Don't get cold."

Theoretically, an angel ought not to get cold either. Thing is. Aziraphale's never actually been a very good angel. Not that Crowley would ever tell him that to his face.

Besides, he's his angel. He's allowed to be not very good.

"Thank you," Aziraphale says, taking the jacket and spreading it over himself like a blanket.

Silence, except for the pit-pat of rain against the car, falls. And Aziraphale's breathing. Crowley's missed the way he breathes.

He literally twiddles his thumbs in his lap, trying to think of something to say or do.

"Things are a bit of a mess," Aziraphale says after what might have been several eternities. Crowley's lost count.

He opens his mouth to say something—something comforting, like that it's not all that bad, or that they'll figure it out, they're a team, they always figure it out.

And then Aziraphale continues, "and you tried to warn me."

His voice sounds so small that Crowley, naturally, like he always does, deflates like a sat-on whoopee cushion. Because the thing about Aziraphale is that he always really is trying to do the right thing. Because he still believes there's one true Right Thing to do. Because he's precious and wonderful and optimistic and good. Not a good angel. But a good person.

"Did you ever wonder why I might try to do that?" Crowley asks.

He's not sure he wants an answer. Either one's going to hurt.

Aziraphale falls silent again, which is probably for the best. The way the moonlight's hitting the window now, Crowley can see him reflected in it. Still the same Aziraphale. Heaven hasn't really changed him.

"Do you really think God created you to look out for me?"

Crowley sighs. "I don't know. Plan's, y'know, ineffable."

"Well it would explain why you keep doing it," Aziraphale says. "If it's all in the plan."

"Right," Crowley draws in on himself. Not getting through right now, then. "No other possible explanation for it, really."

"Well. There is one other possible explanation," Aziraphale offers hesitantly.

"Oh?" Crowley asks.

"Well... you might. I suppose. Be fond of me?"

Crowley glances over at him. Sighs. Okay, well. He's come to that conclusion, then. It's only taken a little over six thousand years. Practically no time at all.

He takes his sunglasses off. Stares out of the windscreen. Wonders if he can actually be discorporated by way of stomach knots. Gnaws on his lip.

And then gets very, very brave. "I might be," Crowley says, forcing himself to look Aziraphale in the eye. "I might even be in love with you."

Aziraphale swallows. He looks like he might either be sick or pass out from what Crowley realises at the last second isn't disgust.

It's nerves.

"You might," he says, looking away as he fiddles with Crowley's jacket. "And. And if you were. That would be very convenient for me. Because I... I think I've been in love with you for a very long time."

Crowley means to say something to that, but the nice satisfying thunk of the Bentley unlocking beats him to it.

"Well," Crowley says, running his tongue over his teeth. "That's probably enough to save the world, then. Shall we?"

Aziraphale lights up, bright and beautiful and good as always. "I think we really must."

"have you met the husbands who run the bookshop down the street?"

Howdy Howdy Howdy

This post is targeted towards

You

(Not you or you or you or 𝘠𝘰𝘶)

But

You

And I want you to know

You are awesome, fabulous, imperfectly perfectly ~you~ fantabulous aaaaaand other synonyms for awesome fantastic and etc etc.

Honestly though, words cannot describe how amazing you are. Because that would be awfully limited ~ya know~

Plus to be told by words is to be like others, anybody can be called awesome, but only you can be you.

So yes, you are all those things (and more) but most importantly you are you and that’s all you ever need to be

Well, that and a best friend (the bestest if I might so fairly add)

To the fires of morder and back

💚

LAVA LAVA LAVA I LAVA(love) LAVA

Good Omens + text posts

Ha was looking for some new fanfics to read and just had to reblog this absolutely amazing fanfic series! Definitely worth reading, several times.

I MADE A SERIES!!!

Man, I'm on the fence about the series name, but it's what I've got so I'm going with it! 😉

Beetlejuice and Lydia reunite, and the chaos BFFFs are back in business for the strangest and most unusual summer the Deetz or Maitlands have ever had, dead or alive. (Warning: shenanigans ensue, both fluff and angst are a frequent visitors, tragic backstory intrudes, found family is the trope of the day, there are musical numbers and fanart, and humor of multiple varieties is employed. Also, we say Shit a lot.)

So, this universe is continuously growing, and the order of fics will change as new stories are written, but I do have an idea where I'm steering this, I promise! (There will be eldritch monstrosities.)