She/her. 30-something. 95% Good Omens by weight.

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Aziraphale has a surprise for Crowley.

A post S1 fic (S2 and S3 not included).

Summary

Aziraphale and Crowley try to make sense of their brand new retirement.

A series of dates that aren't dates after the world doesn't end.

Rating: E (eventually)

Start here

Read Chapter three

Excerpt

"Amberley please, and make it sharp. But not too sharp, you understand, I would prefer my hair stays on.” Aziraphale placed a hand on the dashboard, and the Bentley purred. “'Atta girl.” 

Crowley rolled his eyes. 

“Amberley? What’s in Amberley? This isn’t going to be one of those awful manor houses, is it?”

“Just drive the car.”

“Fine, but if you are dragging me to look at paintings of the aristocracy I am bringing a bag of rotten cabbages.” Crowley pressed the accelerator and they cleared the London traffic in 20 minutes.

The city drifted away, and they reached the first turning off the motorway on a country road, almost the size of the Bentley.

“Would you look at that,” Crowley said. Aziraphale raised his head from the book he had brought along for the journey; he couldn’t help but bite back the grin that was forming.

“How strange,” Aziraphale responded. 

“Is that a 1935 Derby? It’s almost in as good a knick as this one.”

“I wouldn’t know, you’re the expert.” Aziraphale feigned a yawn, and went back to glancing at the words in his book, though he was far too distracted by Crowley staring slack jawed at the car in front to take in any of the story.

The Bentley in front was the same size as Crowley’s, though it was a pale yellow, which Aziraphale had to admit he found rather dashing. The man driving wore a black newsie cap, and a tweed suit, which was surely stifling in the summer heat.

“Is that another one?” Crowley said.

“Bizzare. Three Bentleys in a row.”

“You are up to something,” Crowley said, “You haven’t read a single word in the last ten minutes.”

“How can you tell?”

“You make little noises when you enjoy the prose.”

“Perhaps I am not enjoying it.” Aziraphale placed a bookmark. 

“There is a fourth one.” Crowley jammed a thumb behind them; they were in a row of four Bentleys now. He turned around to peer at it. “Not a 1929 Speed Six? It looks practically brand new!”

“Obviously very popular in Amberley.”

“There are 182 in the entire world, angel. They cannot be popular in Amberley.”

“Must be a bizarre coincidence.”

“You always were a terrible liar.” 

“I have nothing to lie about.” Aziraphale placed a hand over his mouth, but it did nothing to stop the smile spreading across his face. “Turn left, follow the, er, Bentley.”

Crowley clicked the indicator. There were six Bentleys behind them; all shapes and sizes.  Aziraphale felt entirely and utterly pleased with himself, watching the demon fidget in his chair, crane his neck pretending to still remain nonchalant, and mumble under his breath. 

“1931, good year, almost got one of those.” 

“There are only four of those left in the UK.”

“1921! One of the first ones out of the factory.”

They turned the corner following the yellow Bentley under the sign that said ‘Welcome to Amberley Museum’. Crowley’s jaw dropped as they crawled into the carpark, and a woman in a fluorescent vest waved at him to turn down the window. 

“Here for the car show?”

Aziraphale leaned across. “Yes, we’re here to exhibit. Anthony J Crowley?”

---

Thank you to my lovely beta @groovynightstrawberry!

~ the prettiest star 💫~

inspired by this beautiful frame from the good omens s2 openning title sequence

But my basic thinking about GO3 after reflecting on it for the past six weeks is that I do still wish we could have seen Aziraphale and Crowley get a happy ending in their own universe (although with the way things were written, I understand why we didn’t) but also I am going to continue to find joy and whimsy and love in the story that was told. It doesn’t make me feel any better to dwell on the things I wish were different, and I also genuinely am having fun playing in the ambiguous-ending-sandbox.

I am also going to continue to find joy and whimsy and love in the stories that weren’t told, but could have been (AUs etc.) because that’s where the real beauty of fandom is to me. I love seeing art and reading fics and swapping headcanons and doing all of that with all of you.

I’m never really one for writing a lot of meta, so I won’t do that here, and I’ve also found a lot of the discourse around the ending to be really divisive and sometimes hateful. I don’t think there is one correct read or interpretation of the finale. I hope that one day soon we can reconnect and share the things we love about this story and these characters who mean so very much to us all.

I said this in an ask to someone who has a very different interpretation of the finale than me, but I’m going to say it here as well because it bears repeating:

Good Works Written by Majnoona

Beta editing and endless moral support by  @SpectrallyDistractracted  

Britpicking and cheers by @GroovyNightStrawberry 

Cheers and plot detangling support by @curiouspupsicle

Summary:

It's 1987 London and anti-gay sentiment is on the rise ahead of the government's push to pass Section 28 to prohibited the "promotion of homosexuality" by local authorities -- including banning books and education in schools.

Why do Fell, low level government administrator, and Crowley, a "fixer" for a nefarious consulting company and reluctant queer community organiser, keep running into each other -- quite literally? Is it just romantic fate bringing together two middle aged "confirmed bachelors" who thought it was too late to find love, or is there some other connection? Can they figure it out? (Are they sure they want to?)

Chapter Summary:

Crowley speeds back to London to answer the call of his Angel, trying desperately to put his feelings aside so he can help do this One Important Thing. And that's fine, right? He can be cool. He's fine. It's all fine.

Tw: AIDS, Homophobia, Medical Phobias, Hospitals

Continue reading Chapter 28 on AO3

Or start from  Chapter 1 - The 24 Hour Print Shop, July 1987

When he is invited to Oscar Wilde’s for dinner, Aziraphale decides to bring Crowley back. (Crowley is asleep)

Words: 6,970

Status: Complete

Rating: Explicit

Chapter 2 already? We're on a roll! Low stakes/low angst. Today we are bumbling around Borough market.

A post S1 fic (S2 and S3 not included).

Summary

Aziraphale and Crowley try to make sense of their brand new retirement.

A series of dates that aren't dates after the world doesn't end.

Rating: E (eventually)

Start here

Read Chapter two

Excerpt

Borough Market heaved in the way that only London can. 

The people of London held the unique ability to ram themselves into the smallest of spaces, while never once exchanging eye contact or acknowledging each other’s existence. 

Crowley had never felt more at home anywhere in his life.

He had done a cursory Google of Things to Do in London and was presented with an almost exhaustive list. He knew London, he had been living here for 200 years, but mostly his choice of venues to meet Aziraphale had been on the secluded side.

Today, they were branching out into a world of bustle.

Aziraphale was easy to spot as he was the only person who was not being pushed by the jostling elbows trying to make their way to buy a £15 falafel. He moved through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea.

Crowley stared down into the ground, as if waiting for a chasm to open up. He took five deep breaths, and sauntered over to find Aziraphale staring with longing at a large piece of Spanish ham. 

Aziraphale’s eyes were a dark green today, with flecks of hazel, like a soft moss spreading across a rock. He wore the same beige shades he always did, though Crowley noted that his trousers were pressed neater than normal. As he came close, the comforting smell of Aziraphale’s cologne, a sweet vanilla, rose above the foot stalls: it mixed with the spices, dark black coffees, and meat being crisped on charcoal in the summer heat. 

“Here we are then,” Crowley said.

“Ah, you made it, I don’t think I’ve been here since the 1800s. Do you think that pie shop is still here? They made the most delicious hot crust pastry.”

“Probably all made from sourdough these days.”

“It shocks me that you still have learnt so little about human food.”

“Well, we’re here now, aren’t we? Amongst all the food.” He waved his arms around, and could not help but could not help but be a bit pleased with his choice as he saw the way Aziraphale was already salivating.

“Yes, it was a rather inspired choice. What now?”

“Thought we could wander.”

“How pleasant.”

“Then drink.”

“Now, that is an excellent idea.”

---

The Long Way Round

Rated T; 18,415 words; 5/5 chapters posted

Summary:

Anthony Crowley has known London longer than London has known him. Every cut-through, cab rank, one-way system, theatre crowd, and hidden churchyard.

That’s the point of the Knowledge: the grueling, multi-part test every London black cab driver has to pass, thousands of streets and landmarks learned so thoroughly the city lives inside one’s head.

Crowley passed it years ago.

But when he falls for Aziraphale Fell, a soft-spoken, waistcoat-wearing examiner he has absolutely no excuse to ever encounter, Crowley does the only reasonable thing — he digs out his old birth certificate, registers under a name he hasn’t used in years, and signs up to fail the Knowledge on purpose.

Just one Appearance, he tells himself. Answer well, withdraw gracefully, ask the man out, done in twenty minutes.

Naturally, it doesn’t go that way.

Excerpt from Chapter 1, Points of Interest:

He had survived by being quick, mostly. Quick hands. Quick mouth. Quick feet. He washed dishes, shifted boxes, ran errands, slept on floors, lifted wallets when he was starving, and, for a short and educational period of his life, nicked cars.

He had been good at that too.

He had never liked the cars themselves. That was what people got wrong. They thought joyriding was about speed or danger or wanting something expensive because you’d never had anything that shone. But Crowley had liked the going. The escape. The way the city opened under the tyres, street after street, as though London were not a place at all but a puzzle box with all its little hinges waiting to be found.

Then, at nineteen, someone had shoved a parcel into his hands outside a print shop in Soho and said, “Can you get this to Clerkenwell in twenty minutes?”

Crowley had said, “Fifteen.”

That had been the beginning of everything.

Continue reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87365791/

The Bang writers have been writing romantic, poignant, angsty words.... and spandex, this week. Follow us for more gems! (shared with permission)

penguin pingu classics

Human AU, 45K words Rated E for explicit sex

Summary:

Still grieving the death of his kids’ mum, Crowley takes his eight-year-old twins to an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean. There he meets the most beautiful man he has ever seen, a bookseller who is also a single father. This man balances Crowley’s bastard with his own in the best possible way. Is this a holiday fling or could they start something real when they return to London? Is his heart ready to let in another person?

Chapter 10:

Crowley took one last look in the mirror. Satisfied with what he saw, he straightened his tie and made his way to the bedroom door. “LMC2, are you ready?” he called as soon as he was in the hallway.

Start from the beginning on AO3

Read chapter 10

Thank you to my betas @spectrallydistracted, @moderndayklutz, and @groovynightstrawberry!