∞And I would like to spend...∞

🪶 A GO Regency AU - Rated E - for @addledmongoose via @fandomtrumpshate

🪞 Chapter 3 of 11 - “The Waltz” (8.8k)

🎩 Completely written (around 80k in total) | Updates every Wednesday | Fake/Pretend Relationship | There Was Only One Bed

💜 Beta: the one and only @beerok23

1811. Returned to London after the death of his father, infamous rake Anthony ‘Crowley’, Duke of Morningstar, has three months to restore his tattered reputation and secure himself a proper match, on pain of having his title stripped from him. Enter the irreproachable Lord Aziraphale, newly minted Viscount Eastgate, who would very much like to discourage his many suitors from lining outside his door in Mayfair so he can go back to enjoying his peaceful existence on the shelf. After a chance meeting at a gentlemen’s club, it appears the two may lend each other a helping hand after all. While a fake engagement will not solve their problems once and for all, it should buy them enough time to put their respective affairs in order. If only the ultimate goal of their Arrangement would remain as clear and unchanging as it should…

🪞Read it here on AO3 🪞

🪶Or Start From The Beginning 🪶

Excerpt from Chapter 3 - “The Waltz”:

“Dancing requires practice.” “All the more reason for you to acquire some.” Besides, despite the viscount’s many excuses, Crowley had yet to hear him say he did not wish to dance. “I fear you are not getting my meaning,” he insisted, his eyes betraying his exasperation. “I am awfully out of practice, Crowley.” “Afraid you’re going to step on my toes?” As the viscount looked down at their feet, Crowley instinctively followed his lead and was faced with the stark contrast between their outfits. The pearly white of Aziraphale’s stockings and breeches, the pitch black of Crowley’s pantaloons and boots. “And ruin your brand new Hessians?” Aziraphale’s expression turned even prissier as he pointed one of his impeccably manicured fingers towards the front of his left boot. “I have been meaning to ask, is that a heart?” “That is most definitely not a heart.” “Well, it looks like a heart.” “It’s clearly an upside down spade. And you know what they say about spades…” They should always be called what they are, and certainly not be accused of being hearts of all things. Aziraphale slowly arched an eyebrow. “I see.” “Circling back to dancing–” “No.” “You’re wasting a perfectly good chance to mark your territory and signal every unmarried person here tonight that you are taken.” “I rather think that being seen together will do the trick without me making a complete fool of myself.” “Pity. I’ve been told that to be fond of dancing is a certain step towards falling in love.” Aziraphale turned to him, expression once again going from elated to suspicious to confused in the blink of an eye. “That does not sound like someone you would speak to.” “On the contrary, she’s a very skilled diamond robber I–” “A dia–” The viscount cut himself off with an irritated scoff and a truly remarkable eye-roll. “I shall not entertain your nonsense, Crowley.” “You did for a second, though. Should have seen your face.” He downed half of his ratafia in a single gulp, grimacing at the cloyingly sweet taste. “Let me tell you, Miss Jane would not appreciate your disbelief.” “If she has any common sense at all, this so-called and not at all imaginary Miss Jane would agree with me about you being exceptionally rude.” “Which doesn’t prevent me from being correct as well. Dance with me and I assure you there will be nary a suitor darkening your doorstep tomorrow.” Hope flickered back to life in the viscount’s eyes. “You cannot possibly know that.” “Are you brave enough to find out?”

1811. Returned to London after the death of his father, infamous rake Anthony ‘Crowley’, Duke of Morningstar, has three months to restore his tattered reputation and secure himself a proper match, on pain of having his title stripped from him. Enter the irreproachable Lord Aziraphale, newly minted Viscount Eastgate, who would very much like to discourage his many suitors from lining outside his door in Mayfair so he can go back to enjoying his peaceful existence on the shelf. After a chance meeting at a gentlemen’s club, it appears the two may lend each other a helping hand after all. While a fake engagement will not solve their problems once and for all, it should buy them enough time to put their respective affairs in order. If only the ultimate goal of their Arrangement would remain as clear and unchanging as it should…

🪶 A GO Regency AU - Rated E - for @addledmongoose via @fandomtrumpshate

🪞 Chapter 2 of 11 - “The Arrangement” (8k)

🎩 Completely written (around 80k in total) | Updates every Wednesday | Fake/Pretend Relationship | There Was Only One Bed

💜 Beta: the one and only @beerok23

1811. Returned to London after the death of his father, infamous rake Anthony ‘Crowley’, Duke of Morningstar, has three months to restore his tattered reputation and secure himself a proper match, on pain of having his title stripped from him. Enter the irreproachable Lord Aziraphale, newly minted Viscount Eastgate, who would very much like to discourage his many suitors from lining outside his door in Mayfair so he can go back to enjoying his peaceful existence on the shelf. After a chance meeting at a gentlemen’s club, it appears the two may lend each other a helping hand after all. While a fake engagement will not solve their problems once and for all, it should buy them enough time to put their respective affairs in order. If only the ultimate goal of their Arrangement would remain as clear and unchanging as it should…

🪞Read it here on AO3 🪞

🪶Or Start From The Beginning 🪶

Excerpt from Chapter 2 - “The Arrangement”:

One thing was for certain, if Crowley’s goal was to attract the attention of the poor dears still stuck in the marriage mart, his sinfully languid pose was surely doing the job for him. Come to think of it, was it not odd that the duke had resorted to their ridiculous ruse to make himself more palatable a match instead of using his dubious charms to have a proper lady or lord fall at his feet? Aziraphale did find such charms rather silly and overrated, but if the way Muriel had reacted to his presence was anything to go by, Crowley could have easily slithered his way into the waiting arms of whomever he set his sights on. Was there a chance he was not such a stranger to noble sentiments after all? Sensing the dangerous turn of his own thoughts, and at the same time rather powerless to stop himself, Aziraphale grabbed a piece of fine Italian cheese and asked, “So, what sort of match are you looking for?” The question shocked the duke enough to sit up and finally remove his top hat. “Wot?” “You said you came back to London to find yourself a spouse.” His hair is the loveliest shade of red, Aziraphale thought a propos of nothing, regretting not choosing a spot under the sun for their picnic. He would not have minded to see what colour it would turn under its rays as he remembered it being quite stunning from their first meeting at the apple tree. “Have you set your sights on someone specific?” Crowley made a face as he took off his gloves, which tragically resulted in Aziraphale peering at his long, elegant fingers and remembering how they had felt wrapped around his. “Not as such.” Not even that garish serpent ring with tiny ruby eyes could detract from them. “Why, do you have any recommendations?” “I cannot say that I have.” “Is there a reason you’re not married already?” “The same reason most people remain unmarried. No one has ever asked me.” Crowley tilted his head to the side, which Aziraphale supposed was one way to call out his lie. “Not for lack of trying.” Well, he did have a point. “No one I am interested in marrying has ever asked me,” he amended. “Not a soul in your hordes of suitors?” Aziraphale tutted. “I have standards.”

🪶 A GO Regency AU - Rated E - for @addledmongoose via @fandomtrumpshate

🪞 Chapter 1 of 11 - “The Angel” (7.6k)

🎩 Completely written (around 80k in total) | Updates every Wednesday | Fake/Pretend Relationship | There Was Only One Bed

💜 Beta: the one and only @beerok23

1811. Returned to London after the death of his father, infamous rake Anthony ‘Crowley’, Duke of Morningstar, has three months to restore his tattered reputation and secure himself a proper match, on pain of having his title stripped from him. Enter the irreproachable Lord Aziraphale, newly minted Viscount Eastgate, who would very much like to discourage his many suitors from lining outside his door in Mayfair so he can go back to enjoying his peaceful existence on the shelf. After a chance meeting at a gentlemen’s club, it appears the two may lend each other a helping hand after all. While a fake engagement will not solve their problems once and for all, it should buy them enough time to put their respective affairs in order. If only the ultimate goal of their Arrangement would remain as clear and unchanging as it should…

🪶Read it here on AO3 🪶

Excerpt from Chapter 1 - “The Angel”:

Stormy grey eyes widened in surprise and then slowly roamed all over Crowley’s face, moving even further south, along his waistcoat, his pantaloons, down to the blood red tassels of his Hessian boots. Now, in polite company, such attention could only be described as rude. However, Crowley prided himself on being as far from polite company as one possibly could be and it was clear, at least judging by the unfocused intensity of the man’s expression, that he hadn’t quite realised what he was doing. Besides, Crowley liked to be ogled. Thrived on it. There was no other reason for wearing pantaloons that tight. In his experience, the more he could get people to concentrate on his appearance, the more successful his deceptions. So he grinned and folded himself on the chair with the snake-like gracefulness he’d cultivated over the years. “Am I more or less interesting than your book?” The angel frowned and drew back, cheeks pinkening and eyes blinking in sudden awareness. “Why, I never–” Crowley smirked and popped a roasted potato in his mouth. “Don’t answer,” he said, mouth full. “That was terribly forward of me. Rude, even.” A wrinkle appeared between the angel’s eyebrows, something akin to recognition not so slowly dawning on him as he straightened his back. “According to what I have heard about you, I should not expect anything less.” “Oh, my fame precedes me, then.” He speared another potato as obnoxiously as he could. “I am afraid it does, Your Grace,” the angel said, lips almost comically pursed in disapproval. “What are you doing at Angel’s?” “Same thing you are, I wager.” “Somehow I doubt it.”

Michael crying in the behind the scenes of Good Omens 3.

I think it's important to consider that a good character based narrative is about the characters feelings, rather than the reader or the audiences.

Crowley and Aziraphale, while we as the audience have known them almost exclusively as a demon and an angel, have never been particularly good at their roles, nor was it their core identify. Their identities were based on how they rejected their roles, and embraced something else.

And what did they embrace? Earth and humanity. The things they found and chose to define them are the Bentley, the bookshop, food and drink, music, film, television, theatre, all very human creations. And the list goes on.

They always wanted to be human, and be together.

And that's the ending they got to have.

That's the only one there could have been, to close the circle of who they are as characters.

Neither Heaven incarnate, nor Hell incarnate.

hey! so the finale! came out!

we know they’re proud of what they brought to the finale, whether or not they wanted the story to end the way it did. and i can’t imagine how it must have felt for them to shoot that goodbye in the bookshop. they didn’t give up on showing us all the beauty of aziraphale and crowley, and that’s something i truly appreciate about the finale.