#puffin writes

Thank you for your patience, folks!! Now that school's done, I can finally get back to updating this with some regularity!!

I've seen a few people mention me in the last bunch of months in their posts, and I'm honestly really grateful that people haven't forgotten about me. That's the biggest reason why I'm able to still love this story and still come back and pick it up after such a long time. Thank you for your support! I hope we can all keep having fun with this together for a long time!!

Now, ON TO THE STORY!!!!!

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Jeremy turns to move away, blowing a raspberry for good measure and holding in his giggles. He turns to leave, smacking his own backside as he looks back at you with his tongue out. Just a dumb, annoying teenager who has realized that the adults were bluffing the whole time and are out of cards to play. Honestly, you have half a mind to smack him. Thankfully, when he turns around, he almost runs right into Anathema – and she, being clearly smarter about this than anyone else, had made sure that when he whips around to leave, he finds himself at Eye Level. That is to say, he finds himself looking at a gorgeous woman, and his eyes happen to land right where every teenage boy would kill to have them land.

Anathema crouches to his level, and puts on a smile, letting her hair fall over her shoulders. You sidle over so you can watch Jeremy’s face, pupils dilated, and his expression drops to one of awe. It’s as close to a human-blue-screen as you’ve ever seen in your life, and it takes everything you have to keep from laughing. Thank Someone you brought Anathema with you.

“Hey,” she says to him, “Jeremy, is it?”

You watch him nod mutely, and wish you had some popcorn.

“I’ve seen your videos,” Anathema continues.

“Y-you have?” Jeremy is spellbound, cool kid bravado forgotten for a moment in the presence of stunning beauty.

“Yeah,” your brilliant witch companion says, “I think they’re really funny. I can tell you put a lot of work into them.”

To your surprise, Jeremy blushes and shrugs. “Thanks. I try really hard.” The way he suddenly makes himself small, shies away from the praise you know he desperately wants (because what teenager doesn’t), in a split second he’s gone from being the worst little brat to just being a kid. It’s an abrupt shift from one extreme to another, but that’s teenagers for you. And as annoying as he was a minute ago, it’s a sobering reminder that really, this is a kid with feelings who you’re about to get involved in something big and scary and dangerous. The worst part is you don’t really have much of a choice.

“I can tell,” Anathema says gently, “I bet you’ve even gone viral at least once.”

Jeremy shifts on his feet before he replies. His eyes are trying to look anywhere but at her. “I mean...I try. I work really hard – I even have a staff! I have a writer and an editor! I’m not like a lot of those other idiots who just do dumb shit out of nowhere! I plan these things!” To your surprise, he looks at Sardis, then you and Aziraphale and Crowley, pleading almost. Then you notice his fists clench as he drops his gaze to his feet. “I do everything I’m supposed to do to make it big, but it just doesn’t work.” He takes a deep breath as though he’s about to confess something huge and profound, and looks Anathema right in the eyes. “I’m not as cool as you think I am.”

With the effort it takes for you to hold in your laughter, you swear you’ve sprained something. Aziraphale nudges you. It takes a lot to get yourself under control, but once you do, you look at Sardis for help – to see that he is completely enthralled in the scene playing out before you. To be fair, this is probably the most entertained he’s been in a century or something. You look at Anathema instead, to see her aim a quick and nasty glare in your direction. She’s working here, stop it or you’ll ruin it. Message received. You pull yourself together, and Anathema turns back to Jeremy, satisfied.

“I’m sorry about them,” she says, “What do you mean you’re not cool?”

“I mean...I do all this work...and people watch! I have all the views to make it big, but no matter what I do or what I try – I only have twelve followers!”

This time, Crowley cracks first. Then, to your surprise, Aziraphale. Then Sardis. Only then do you let yourself join in the giggles. It’s just…and he doesn’t even know!! He doesn’t even understand! You just can’t help yourself.

“IT’S NOT FUNNY!!” Jeremy yells, he is full-on red in the face now. “LET’S SEE YOU PULL OFF THE VIEWS I DO! I BET YOU COULDN’T EVEN GET CLOSE!”

You wipe tears from your eyes just in time to see Anathema regain his attention by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Jeremy’s boil turns to a simmer.

“I know,” she says, voice full of sugar and kindness, “What if I told you that we could guarantee you go viral? Then would you be willing to hear us out?”

Jeremy cocks an eyebrow. “You can do that?” He considers this for a minute. “Sounds fishy,” he finally says, “How do I know you’re legit?”

“I guess you’re just gonna have to try it and see for yourself,” Anathema replies with a wink, “Tell you what, here’s my phone number. Just send me the video after you’ve posted it, and we’ll do the rest. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Jeremy asks, “That...sounds fake.”

Anathema smiles and stands back up.

“Think of it more as a...leap of faith.”

***************************************************

And so, your group had given him Anathema’s phone number and sent him on his way. Now, hours later, you all are sat at a table in a local Pub And Grill, waiting for his video to come through on Anathema’s phone.

“I just can’t get over how amazing that was!” You say to her. She smiles.

“He’s just a kid. I went to school with a lot who were exactly like him.”

You’re about to press her for more, when her phone dings. All five of you gather around the small screen to watch the video that just went live.

It’s awful. Well and truly terrible. A snarky Jeremy flips a can of spray paint before painting a troll face onto the side of a building. It’s been made into a terrible music video with hip hop music about being a rebel – it’s overly edited and full of every special effect that kids definitely think are cool. A cop shows up, chases him for a bit (set to Benny Hill), before he’s arrested. The rest is shaky cam and audio as he talks his way out of the situation, and the cop lets him go. There are no faces, badge numbers, or anything official present – the cop could have been an actor for all you know. The video ends with Jeremy’s snarky face saying “Phew. Good thing I’m rich.”

Overall, it’s gross. You look at your companions and see your thoughts mirrored on their faces. All of them look like they found something gross in their cereal. Well, all except Crowley, who looks...fascinated for some reason?

“Huh,” he says, “When I made tik tok a big deal, I definitely wasn’t expecting it to work that well.”

“Wait,” you say, “Did you actually make tik tok popular, or is it one of those things you just take credit for?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Crowley replies, crossing his arms in satisfaction and leaning diagonally in his chair. You’re about to say that actually yeah, you would kind of like to know, just for giggles, but Anathema brings you back to business.

“Alright Celestials,” she says, presenting her fist. You see there are paper straws sticking out of it, “Time to draw. One of you needs to make this thing go viral.” She looks from one of them to the other. Sardis, Aziraphale, and Crowley are all looking very uncomfortable all of a sudden. Anathema holds her fist out further, insisting. “For the world.”

With a sigh, Crowley leans forward in an effort to be nonchalant, and draws first. It looks pretty long. He settles back in his chair.

Sardis draws next. He carefully considers both options before pulling his choice. It’s long.

With a groan, Aziraphale pulls the last straw. It’s short.

Crowley snorts a laugh. “Looks like the honour is all yours, Angel,” he says slyly, “It’s what you were made for after all, isn’t it? Doing the work of The Lord?”

Aziraphale sighs and, with a shudder, he snaps his fingers. He looks like he just had to swallow some very unpleasant medicine.

“I think,” Aziraphale says, “That I could do with a rather stiff drink.”

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

The poll is set for 1 week this time. It's been a while, so I want to give people a chance to find me again ^_^"

Also on the agenda, is to put this up on AO3!!

Guess who finally had the time and spoons to write?? ME. I DID.

I promise I'll update as much as I can, but finding time to sit down and write for fun is hard in grad school, folks. It's also on my To Do List to put this whole thing on AO3. Most importantly, I wand you to know that I love this story too much to abandon it.

Okay, that being said, let's do this.

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Metatron had drawn a number of conclusions while studying the developments in the Book of Life. First of all, he gathered that the book was a ways behind on the transpiring events – given that it had some catching up to do, it seemed. Second, the longer the human remained, the more permanent the new story in the book became. The white tape in the first few pages now being impossible to scratch away, while the alterations were still possible in the pages currently being written. The third, and most important development was the one that had brought him, once again, to Earth. This time, however, he found himself staring at the tall shelves of an institution known as Waterstones.

Although it was much less of a mess than Aziraphale’s bookshop, it was just as crowded. He held back a sigh. Something about this planet seemed to have every being desperate to collect as many blasted things as possible. Movement in his periphery drew his attention, and he saw that a shop employee had appeared to his left, looking confused. Of course the young man was confused, it wasn’t British behaviour to approach customers to ask if they needed help. But when you happen to be The Metatron, things (and people) seemed to anticipate your needs. Indeed, he reflected, The Lord Provides.

“Can I help you find something?” The employee asked. He shifted as he stood, clearly uncomfortable with the interaction.

“Ah, yes,” Metatron replied, “I am, as a matter of fact, looking for a book, and it would seem that I need some assistance in finding it. Might you be able to tell me where I may find a book called...Good Omens?”

“Oh, yeah,” the young man said, “It’s in the Fantasy section, right this way.”

“Fantasy?” Metatron mused, following the employee through the shop to the shelf in question, “How quaint.”

The employee raised an eyebrow as he handed Metatron a copy of the novel. Metatron took it, and flipped through the pages, an amused smile spreading across his face.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” The employee asked uncertainly. He was clearly hoping for the interaction to be over with as soon as possible. Metatron raised an eyebrow, quietly surprised the young man was still there.

“No, thank you,” He said, “I believe I have all that I need.”

He left the shop without paying. No alarms went off, and no one noticed.

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You may be hyped up on adrenaline right now and a hair’s breadth from screaming just to release some of the pent-up energy running wild through your brain, but Jeremy – the entitled, rich, teenage son-of-God-re-incarnate – is cornered. Anathema and Sardis have cut off his retreat, you and Aziraphale have his front and side options covered, and Crowley stands towering above him.

“Well, well, well,” Crowley drawls with a devilish grin, “It’s been a while, now, hasn’t it?”

You see Jeremy stumble back, watch his eyes flick to the three of you in front of him, then to the side as he realizes there are more people behind him. Thank goodness you spent all that time starting at gifs of Micheal “Acting Choices” Sheen, because you’re able to see the calculating look that flickers behind his gaze. He’s assessing his options. It takes all of a second before he straightens up, folds his arms, and cocks his head to the side.

“How much?” he asks. Clearly, this is not the response that Crowley’s expecting, because you can see the demon’s face scrunch. He exhales loudly.

“Oh well, gotta be at least,” Crowley glances back to Aziraphale with a shrug “At least...what would you say...’bout...two thousand years, give or take...” Aziraphale shrugs back, and Crowley returns his attention to the teen. Anathema smacks her forehead with her hand.

“What??” Jeremy asks. He’s looking at Crowley and Aziraphale like they came from outer space. Well, he wouldn’t technically be wrong. “I meant money, dumbass.”

“Whoa,” You say, “Uncalled for, kid.”

Well, you all did just chase a child through alleyways and commit at least three traffic violations in the process so….okay, maybe the kid deserves one. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“You chased and cornered a child,” Jeremy replies, arms still crossed, “I could call the police and all of you would be arrested on the spot.”

Dammit, he’s smart.

“Look,” Crowley starts, “We just need you to come with us.”

“Yeah...” Jeremy drawls, “I don’t think so.”

“Listen here!” Crowley’s voice is getting louder. He’s not shouting just yet, but he’s on the verge of it. Jeremy sees an opening.

“What? Are you gonna make me?” The teen is almost laughing. He’s not trying too hard to hold back his giggles as Crowley’s face grows red with anger. Aziraphale takes a step forward, placing a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. It keeps him cool – barely.

“We need you to come with us because we need your help saving the world,” Aziraphale says calmly.

Oh no, he thinks he can be reasonable with a rich, entitled, teenager. Now the kid actually starts laughing.

“Wow,” You say, looking at Crowley and Aziraphale, “You two are really bad at this.”

“You are welcome to try if you like,” Aziraphale says through gritted teeth. Oh crap. Well, you walked right into that one. You clear your throat – may as well give it a shot.

“Listen, kid,” You say. Jeremy forces his laughing into submission and looks at you like he’s waiting for the punchline to a joke. “For real, these two here are magical beings okay?”

“Pffffff, right. So am I. It’s called Being Rich.”

“No, but they can do miracles. Like actual miracles!”

“Yeah, me too. It’s called Being Rich.”

Okay, so it turns out you're not any better at this than Crowley and Aziraphale are.

Not that you thought this was going to be easy, but you realize that this is still going to be a LOT harder than you thought. And you really don’t think time is on your side.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

I'm gonna set the poll duration to 3 days this time. Give people a chance to see that I've updated (and remember I exist ^_^" )

Part 10 whaaaaaat??

Alright, so idk if any of you have actually been to NYC, so I played it safe on that end. But I have been (just once), and if you haven't ever heard of Ellen's Stardust Diner, I highly recommend you run (not walk) to Youtube or TikTok or something and search it up. Those folks are amazing, and I had to give the place a nod. Because come on, Aziraphale would LOVE to be served by singing waitstaff.

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You had all gone downstairs for dinner that night (you were not dressed fancily enough, but no one noticed so you pretended you weren’t feeling inadequate the whole time). Aziraphale ate, Crowley watched, you watched them while you ate, Anathema just ate because she’s the only rational one in the group here, let’s be honest. The second you got back into the room apartment suite, you crashed and were dead to the world until morning.

And so, you wake up, yawning and needing coffee, but otherwise alright. You make your way out of your bedroom, and find Anathema sitting at the large dining room table surrounded by papers, tarot cards, rune stones, crystals, a pendulum, and books. She’s frantically writing on a piece of paper.

“Good morning!” You say as you approach her. She looks up from her work.

“Oh, good morning. How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright thanks. What time is it?”

“Um...about 12:30.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. A lot happened yesterday and you needed to recoup,” she replies with a shrug. You are so grateful for her understanding, but decide to put the effort into not dwelling on it.

“How’s it been?” You ask, nodding at her papers. Anathema sighs.

“Well, I haven’t made any headway yet.”

“Anything I can do?”

The doorbell rings. There’s a doorbell?? Of course there is.

“Oh!” You hear Aziraphale call from one of the living rooms. “That will be the crepes! ENTAAH!” You snort a laugh through your nose. From here you can’t tell if there’s a feather boa, but you can practically hear a feather boa in his voice – you don’t need to see one. Anathema sighs.

“I need...I NEED for you to get one of them out of my hair for a bit. If one isn’t ordering room service, the other one is prank calling the front desk. There’s a mountain of toiletries in the living room, and the doorbell won’t stop ringing. It’s driving me crazy.”

As if on cue, you hear Aziraphale calling from the door: “Crowley! We have enough shampoo!”

Well, babysitting supernatural entities wasn’t exactly the way you thought this would be going, but who are you to argue with Anathema? You nod.

“Any preference which one?”

“No. Just...one of them.”

“Yeah, okay. Give me five minutes.”

“Thank you.” She puts her head in her hands for a moment while you go to get yourself ready.

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You and Aziraphale walk down the sidewalk towards Times Square, sipping on frappucinos. Aziraphale had been skeptical about the drink until he saw the mountain of whipped cream and the caramel drizzled on top.

“Have you been here before?” He asks you casually. You shake your head.

“No, but I spend a lot of time on the internet. So I’ve heard things. You can learn a lot just by lurking.” You swirl your straw around the frozen coffee to mix in the last of the whipped cream. “Have you? I mean you and Crowley have been practically everywhere, right?”

“I’ve been once. But it was a very long time ago now. I came for the World’s Fair in 1939. Marvelous, really, the technology at the time. Not nearly as fascinating as how technology ended up evolving of course.”

“Technology isn’t your thing, though,” You say, raising an eyebrow.

“I prefer to admire it from a distance, but I can appreciate it all the same.”

You think about how he has a driver’s license, and the ancient computer in his bookshop. Besides, how would he make tea without a kettle. It makes sense.

“So,” Aziraphale begins, “What is this venture that you need me to accompany you for?”

“Oh I think you’ll like it,” You say with a smile. Aziraphale raises his eyebrows quizzically.

“Oh?” He asks, intrigued, as he takes another sip of his drink.

“Broadway,” You say. Aziraphale’s face lights up.

“Oh!”

“I figure,” You say, “What a shame it would be to spend time in New York City without seeing a show on Broadway. And I’m not sure I trust Crowley’s theatre manners.”

“I understand why you would have that opinion. He can be rather a handful,” Aziraphale says thoughtfully, as though he hadn’t been driving Anathema to insanity himself. “But I assure you, I’ve seen nothing less than exceptional behaviour from him when the two of us have gone together.”

“Well yeah, but that’s with you. There’s a difference,” You tilt your drink towards the angel to emphasize your point. He hums thoughtfully. “So,” You continue, “I figure you and I go see a couple shows. I think we have time for two of them so how about I pick one, then you pick one?”

“I think that sounds like a rather splendid day, in fact,” he says, finishing off his drink and disposing of it in the nearest recycling can.

“Great,” You say, “My pick first.” You dispose of your empty drink container as well, and pause to let the suspense build. “And I choose The Lion King.”

Aziraphale’s face scrunches up.

“Is it bebop?”

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Dear Reader, Aziraphale likes Lion King. He does not, however, like I Just Can’t Wait to Be King, or anything to do with Timon and Pumbaa. He is an angel that can forgive many things, but apparently he draws the line at “bebop” and fart jokes.

“I just don’t understand why it was necessary,” he says with a wince afterwards, “And in an adaptation of Hamlet of all things!”

“You say that like your friend Will didn’t write a thousand dick jokes.”

“I suppose,” Aziraphale doesn’t sound convinced. “The rest of it was lovely though,” he adds in a brighter tone, “Breathtakingly artistic, in fact.”

“It really was, wasn’t it?” You say with a sigh. In your hand you hold a bag full of merchandise from the show’s gift shop. Aziraphale bought an artbook. “Do you have a choice lined up?”

“I do indeed,” Aziraphale smiles and waves his hands in a rainbow-motion, “The Phantom of the Opera.” His face has so much joy in it.

Watching Aziraphale experience things is mesmerizing. The ways his face moves, the way his voice shifts around when he gets all excited, the way he gasps so audibly when the performance surprises him. It’s an incredible thing to behold, and you absolutely understand why Crowley spends so much time doing it.

“Well before we go see Phantom, I need some food.”

“Oh! Do you have any ideas where to go?” He leans towards you conspiratorially. “Any secrets you heard while Lurking?”

“Well,” You reply, playing into his game, “I have heard stories of a place called Ellen’s Stardust Diner, and I think you’ll like it.”

“And what makes you think that?” His eyes are sparkling with intrigue. Damn. You have to try and keep your knees from buckling, it’s so intense.

“Two words,” You say, “Singing. Waitstaff.” You hadn’t thought Aziraphale’s face could get brighter, but it does, and so you add the cherry on top, the trump card, the finishing blow: “And they take requests.”

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Dinner was great, dessert was fabulous, Aziraphale was willing to put up with the bebop. Especially after you suggested he request a ballad, and they not only took it, but did a wonderful job of it. Phantom was long, but you both enjoyed yourselves.

Why am I suddenly speeding through this, dear Reader? I’m glad you asked.

When the both of you finally return to the hotel, it’s late. Anathema is still hard at work and you notice a definite...lack of Toiletry Mountain. Crowley is sat demurely at the kitchen table with a glass of whiskey.

“Are you okay?” You ask him carefully.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Crowley replies. You look at Aziraphale and shrug. The angel shrugs back before going to grab himself a drink, and you go see Anathema.

“Hey,” You say, “How’s it going?”

“Oh, much better!” She says, looking up at you brightly, “I managed to get things under control, and I got some very promising readings from the top of the Empire State Building.”

“I’m sorry, you went where? How??”

Anathema smirks and glances over at Crowley, then back at you.

“A witch has her ways.”

“And what happened to all the shampoo?”

“I made him give it back and apologize.”

“I...what….” You sputter. It takes all you have to sit down in a chair instead of just fall over. “How do you do this?” You ask, impressed.

“What do you mean?”

“In every fanfiction, in every alternate universe, how do you do this?” You gesture at the kitchen where you know Crowley is still quietly sat, listening to Aziraphale recount your day. Anathema smiles broadly and slides her glasses back up her nose.

“You can’t expect me to give away all my secrets, now.”

Have you ever before been in a room where you so intensely love everyone in it? If not, you have now.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤