The Subtext Is Rapidly Becoming Text

There does seem to have been a bit of Crowley as an NG self-insert characterisation drift huh?

Crowley's shift from "screw the end of the world, Angel, let's just run away to Alpha Centauri!" to "we have to sacrifice ourselves for the greater good" happens way too suddenly, even for the condensed and rushed pacing of GO3. But having an actual arc where Crowley realizes how Selfish and hypocritical the fantasy of drinking up cocktails in space while the earth burns in order to build up to the point where he chooses the Greater Good instead, would require the narrative to actually admit and dwell on the fact that Crowley was wrong.

If you want to build up to any sort of Human Ending, you kinda have to lean into the idea that if being an Angel and a Demon is like a Job in an oppressive system, then the things that do make Crowley and Aziraphale's lives Objectively Better than Humans, Magic Powers and Immortality, are like the payment and perks they received from still being complicit in that system. Then it becomes thematically inevitable that if these two want to escape or dismantle the system that victimized them, they can't also expect to still get a fat pension check out of it. But to actually explore this thematic idea in length would be to implicate Crowley as the biggest champion of the dream of escaping the way the system victimizes you while enjoying all the perks of being complicit in it.

Also the angle of Miracles = the Privileges of the System synergies well with the more… charitable interpretation of the message of GO3, that change requires sacrifice. A hypothetical arc in an alternative GO2 about how Crowley and Aziraphale aren't ready to sacrifice their Miracle Accounts by cutting ties fully with Heaven and Hell will build up to this ending far better then spending all that time exploring trauma and indoctrination that the ending will only resolve via a very Magical solution. But that requires both Crowley and Aziraphale to be equally guilty in their hypocrisy.

Since the idea of 'Free Will' not actually existing in the original GO universe was not well-explored or well-argued at all, and is especially weak with the implication everything in the 'Real World' went pretty much identically to the previous Biblically Literalist Reality, it's easy for viewers to feel like Aziraphale and Crowley really just gave up their lives for nothing. The main argument you can make in favor of this new reality being better is not the lack of Heaven and Hell as supernatural forces meddling in Human affairs, but the lack of Heaven and Hell as an Afterlife, that judges Humanity via binary definitions of 'Good' and 'Evil' and can doom you to eternal torment based on pretty strict and inhuman ideas of morality (considering how few 'first-grade musicians' got into Heaven according to GO1/Book Omens). But it's hard for the audience to be emotionally invested in the idea of removing that unfair Afterlife system when outside of these aforementioned gags in the first season/original book, we very rarely dwell on how Heaven and Hell work as an Afterlife for Humans. The only people we actually see about to face Eternal Torment are a bunch of Nazis, which even the most restorative-justice-minded folks in the audience would find it hard to feel sorry for. But actually exploring how easy it would be for regular Human folks to end up in GO Hell and taking the subject seriously might means letting the audience think of the fact Crowley was working as a tempter to trick people into that eternal torment for 6000 years, and even with the amount of slacking off he does, it's hard to think he wasn't responsible for dooming at least some Human souls (not to mention the Arrangement means he also dragged Aziraphale into it).

This one addresses the point about Pratchett's influence in Crowley's initial characterization most directly, but it's very complex so I think I will also link to the post I made about it. It's going over about how unfortunate is that Modernized Sin-Spreading, which used to be such an important part of Book!Crowley's characterization, ended up being totally retconned out in TV Omens and how addressing it and treating it seriously could've helped build up to the GO3 Sacrifice the way it was part of Crowley's arc leading up to the Almost-Sacrifice at the end of the Book. One of the point I made is that I think Crowley's thoughts about Free Will and Humanity are meant to be poignant (and Pratchettian) themes in the book… but they were also Crowley's attempting to rationalize his job to himself. It can be both at the same time. And if you REALLY want to argue against Free Will in the GO Universe, you could try deconstructing these quotes in a 'Resurrectionists'-style fashion… but all of this would require making Crowley the kind of guy who is proud of himself for all the minor disasters and annoyances he causes and then addressing that part of him seriously.

A new chapter of Trust Fall is up, on AO3! 😏 It's someone's birthday, and there's something about a special gift... and caffeinated squirrels.

Check it out:

A quite memorable coffee date.

Chapter Three

Haven't started yet? Here's a summary:

Aziraphale sees sound, words and feelings as colours. Crowley sees the world without colour at all – only shades of grey, light, shadow and texture.

When they meet, they begin to show each other how the world looks from their side.

Every Colour Of You

The Edge/The Wall

Rated: E for eventual smut

Summary:

Crowley is a contestant on the new revival of 90s TV hit Gladiators.

His opponent? A soft, pretty angel of a man.

This will definitely not cause any problems whatsoever.

Excerpt:

Crowley shoved all thoughts of Aziraphale to the back of his mind. He was here to win, or at the very least to not make a complete fool of himself because he couldn't stop thinking about the man he was competing against.

Strategy, that was what he needed. He was never going to be stronger than Legend, but he could be smarter.

Of course, he'd left it a bit late for strategising, because all the safety checks were done, the cameras were in place and the referee was blowing the whistle to start.

Read it on AO3

Next up on the IPB Who's Who....

We have one of our writers @ineffableword !

And they want to share their GOAD collection fic... Single-Stroke Rifle

Can be found on AO3.

Meet another writer from the IPB!

Our "Who's Who" of the Ineffable Professionals Bang continues today with @ineffablerainstorm

And their fic to share is Sweeter Than Fiction!

🪶 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.”

I can see them so clearly: Crowley stumbling in all groggy and sleep-ruffled still, Aziraphale looking serenely refreshed and dressed to the nines no matter the ungodly hour.

The two of them would sink into cracking, brightly colored vinyl booths that would squeak with their every move, or they'd perch on padded chrome stools at the sprawling countertop. Ancient but spotless formica tables splattered with funny, retro mid century designs like pink and grey boomerangs or atomic and celestial motifs in gold and teal and silver and black lining the walls, the smell of fried potatoes and endless quantities of toast mingling with the buzz of scattered conversation between regulars and newcomers alike.

Aziraphale would be intrigued by the excessively large menus, studying them day after day with a wrinkled brow and utmost concentration as a grumpy demon languishes across the table, half awake and suffering from a severe lack of caffeine. He'd delight in things such as a Western omelette ("what makes it Western, I wonder? It certainly doesn't put me in mind of our little stint in the Old West" "Angel, 's too early for waxing philosophical over why Americans do things the way they do) and incomprehensibly placed sprigs of curly parsley adorning a piping hot plate no matter the dish; even pancakes, he’d note with a bemused smile, could not escape their savory herbal adornment.

He'd be tickled by the casual warmth of "what’ll it be, hon?"offered by a waitress who looked as if she'd been running the place for ages, her eyes only slightly curious as she glances at the two of them. ("what's "hon" mean? She keeps callin' everyone that" "I can't pretend to know, but I think it must be something nice, anyway; I quite like it") At first Aziraphale would be concerned that they might draw too much attention to themselves here, what with his arguably outdated if classic fashion sense and Crowley's sunglasses coupled with his complete inability to sit upright for longer than 30 seconds, but they wouldn’t be spared a second look after their first visit; they must be used to all sorts, here.

Even Crowley would fall victim to the seduction that is a bottomless cup of scorching, perfectly brewed hot diner coffee, hotter than Hellfire yet somehow devoid of the bitterness of burnt beans.

"How d'you think they do it, angel," he'd ask one morning, staring down into his chipped, thick-walled ceramic mug. "Usually y'need a miracle to make coffee this good." Before the thought of a top-off could even fully form in his mind, the waitress would be there, pouring from a glass and plastic coffee pot with the precision of a heart surgeon without a word.

"...d'you reckon she can read minds," he'd whisper so seriously that Aziraphale wouldn't be able to hold back a giggle.

Chapter Summary: Aziraphale has a bad dream, a bad job, and trust issues.

Excerpt:

Aziraphale rubbed his throbbing temples and wondered, not for the first time, why he had done this to himself. Why he had accepted the Metatron’s proposal.

Well. I know why.

He had wanted, quite simply, to make a difference. He had been given the opportunity and he thought he could make changes, and jumped at it. He hadn’t been lying to Crowley about that. But he had also wanted, needed, Crowley’s help. And he had trusted Crowley to have his back, regardless of whether they were on Earth, in Hell, or in Heaven.

Crowley was always there for him, especially when Aziraphale least expected him. Until, quite suddenly and confusingly, he wasn’t.

They had always been a Them. An Us. At least, Aziraphale had thought they were, especially since they had averted Armageddon together. He hadn’t realized that for Crowley, that was conditional. For Crowley, they could only be together if they kept themselves separate from everything else.

Let's talk - Part 4 (End)

Continuation of this

-Part 1-

-Part 2-

-Part 3-

(You are at the end)

me and you, setting in a honeymoon by HazelSage

Aziraphale and Crowley experience life as an “us” for the first time. A series of vignettes over time detailing Aziraphale and Crowley’s new life in the South Downs.

Hands. Phenomenal invention, hands. One of the Almighty’s better ideas in Crowley’s opinion. An appendage to distinguish primates from Her other creations, to grasp and grip and push and lift, and that wasn’t even counting the thousands of things that could be done with fine motor movements. And opposable thumbs? Even more fantastic! This complicated arrangement of bones and muscle and blood vessels and nerves and ligaments and skin sitting at the end of the arm of this human corporation of his, and it allowed him to hold Aziraphale’s hand.

The best thing his hand had ever done by far.

General, 9.6k words

Fix-it ver. Crawleigh (Part one)

I know i haven't finished the other things but... This idea is too good.