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bird-slayer-brainrot · 3 months

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Pre-marital Shenanigans - Good Omens Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer ft. our ineffable idiots at a silly little engagment party gone alcoholic

Anathema had never even dreamed of getting married. It never really bothered her, as she had always understood that the course of her life was already set. It was quite literally planned in a book that had finally ended.

But the world hadn’t, like it was supposed to, and Newt, who she had known all her life but had only now known, had given her the courage to decide for herself what her life would be, well, everything was different.

The world was literally new.

So when Newton Pulsifer, her nerdy, non-witchfinder, world-saving boyfriend proposed one afternoon in their shared garden in Jasmine Cottage, Tadfield, Oxfordshire, England – far from the life she had always known – Anathema, for the first time in her life, felt alive.

Crowley parked the Bentley outside Jasmine Cottage and climbed out. He was leaning over the top of the car, head rested in his hands, as he waited for Aziraphale to get out. To his surprise, Aziraphale emerged from the Bentley with his arm full of wrapped gifts that Crowley hadn’t even seen him pack. Crowley frowned at the angel without menace, and Aziraphale returned the look fondly.

Anathema answered the door immediately. She had been waiting for the past twenty minutes by the door. Crowley drove fast, but he was always late.

Newt was busy in the kitchen preparing cocktails as Anathema greeted their guests. Aziraphale beamed at is friend, unable to hug her with his arms full.

“Anathema, dear.” He said fondly. “Thank you so much for inviting us.”

Crowley, not a speaker, nodded silently at Aziraphale, who nodded in return. This was good enough for the both of them. Crowley followed Aziraphale into the lounge. Anathema shut the door to the cottage behind them.

“Cards?” Crowley questioned. They were in the living room. Newt hadn’t finished the drinks yet. Anathema was shuffling the deck.

“Isn’t this your engagement party?” Crowley grumbled. Anathema shot him a look and he shot up.

“How lovely.” Aziraphale exclaimed. “I’m very good at cards.”

“No you’re not.” Crowley responded almost immediately. Aziraphale made a face at the demon, who did not back down.

“There is cocktails.” Newt announced when he entered. He was balancing a tray of cocktails precariously. Anathema, sensing danger, immediately stood up to help him. Newt greeted Aziraphale and Crowley and sat down in an armchair beside Anathema. The cards were shuffled, and Anathema began to deal.

An hour in, and Newt was tipsy.

Aziraphale had somehow managed to win several rounds, and Anathema had accused him of foul play despite the fact that he, on numerous occasions, insisted he would do no such thing.

“How did you get another ace?” Anathema shouted. Aziraphale just giggled. Crowley was staring at Aziraphale murderously. Crowley was losing, followed in third by Newt. When they were both out, Newt left to fetch another round of cocktails.

When he returned, it was to find a distraught Anathema had lost another round. Aziraphale was laughing victoriously. Newt smiled at his fiancée, and consoled her.

He had been worried about this. Anathema knew Newt was a worrier, it was his nature. He wanted the engagement party to go smoothly, for Anathema’s sake. They’d talked about it extensively. Eventually, they decided a quiet night in with some friends was exactly what they both wanted.

Anathema didn’t have many close friends in Tadfield, and Newt’s mother was coming down from London down the next day to formally meet Anathema and help with the wedding planning. The Them had already popped by to offer their congratulations. Pepper had announced that she wanted to be the maid of honour. Anathema immediately agreed.

The topic of Aziraphale and Crowley had come up one morning as Newt prepared breakfast. He suggested it offhandedly, and, after considering it, Anathema suggested they invite the pair for some drinks soon. It was an excuse, at best, to check in on the state of the world after Doomsday. Newt knew this, because he always knew.

Anathema had confided in Newt that sometimes she had the sense that she was being watched, like when she was younger, but with less potency. It had been nearly a year since the world had almost ended, and the final instalment of Agnes Nutter’s prophecies had been burnt to ash. She hated this feeling. It was a reminder of what had happened, and how close it had all come to ending. It made her feel powerless.

Newt was, for the most part, an excellent comfort in this. He had been a pawn in this celestial game as long as she had, though he had not found out till much later. When she felt like this, Newt was there. She loved him.

The cards were abandoned and Newt was now fully gone. It seemed that, in an effort to steady his nerves, he had drunk way more than the others. This, combined with his, quite frankly, shit alcohol tolerance, and he was trying to dance with Anathema.

Anathema managed to escape from two clumsy waltzes (somewhere, Billie Holiday was screaming) with her two feet barely intact. She sat beside Aziraphale, who was nursing a glass of wine Anathema didn’t remember any of them pouring. Newt was smiling at Anathema, and she tentatively smiled back.

“So, Crowley.” Newt had recovered from the abandonment by Anathema by deciding to bother the demon, who also had a glass of wine. Crowley watched him as he plopped himself beside him.

“Anathema tells me you and Aziraphale are like.” he leaned forward conspiratorially at the demon.

paused, seemingly for dramatic effect. “Magic.” He managed to both over-pronounce the final consonant while whispering, seemingly for dramatic effect. Crowley tilted his head at the human, and raised his eyebrows.

Anathema was still talking to Aziraphale. She was laughing at something the angel had said.

“Can you please.” He was almost pleading. Anathema and Aziraphale had now looked over to them. Aziraphale was beaming, and Anathema was doing a very good impression of a tomato.

“Magic me to be deserving of this beautiful, beautiful lady.”

Aziraphale laughed, and Anathema managed to look even more embarrassed.

“Oh, shut up Newt.” Anathema laughed.

They were saying their goodbyes. Anathema had insisted that they had enough space to accommodate their friends, but Crowley said that they would be alright.

When the door shut behind them, Newt turned to look at Anathema with blind adoration.

“Seriously though.” Newt was solemn now. “How is it possible for one single person to be so wonderful. I love you so much Anathema.”

“Calm down Newt.” Anathema said, laughing. Newt then proceeded to wrap his arms around the witch in an effort, it seemed, to become attached to her permanently.

“Bedtime, I think.” Anathema said into his shoulder. “I love you, Newt.”

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luckyspike · 5 years

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The Trouble with Nocturnal Ambush Predators - A Good Omens Fanfiction

when I went to post this on AO3 (found here), turns out Crowley’s weird statue has its own tag

shit’s wild guys

anyway crowley and aziraphale make a bet about how shitty crowley’s vision is

nobody but also everybody wins, in a way

count the parks and rec references. also of course i had to make someone a doctor because i live at work i guess idk

Everyone was rather surprised when Brian announced that he would be going to school with plans to become a doctor. Brian, who reveled in dirt and grime, Brian that even at twenty would wear clothes more than once if he thought he could get away with it, Brian that ate food out of takeaway boxes and still left them in the sink. It was startling, the image of Brian, that Brian, standing in a sterile operating theater, scrubbed and gowned and as anti-septic as possible. And yet, this was also Brian that was always there for the Them, who would come the moment he was called if help was needed, who swallowed his pride and rebuked his filthy habits if only for a few minutes, to help his friends and save the world.

It was surprising but, the Them and friends reflected, not entirely shocking. It did make sense, in a sort of way. “I’d really like to study infectious diseases,” he said one night over dinner at the Pulsifer’s, while everyone was still gathered around the table for drinks. It was late, and Anathema had gone an hour or so ago to put her little daughter to bed, even over the child’s protests and desperate clinging to Crowley, who objected much less firmly than any self-respecting demon should have. Well enough then, he told Aziraphale, when the angel had pointed it out, that he was only still a demon in technicalities only.

Pepper looked amused. “You should see him in classes,” she said, for she was in the same class as Brian, with her sights set on psychiatry as a specialty once she’d graduated. “He sits right up front, a real gunner, and every time they ask about some weird bacteria, boom! He’s right there with the answer.” She rolled her eyes, but she was laughing, too. “I think it was all the dirt he always had on him when we were kids - he communed with the germs and they accepted him as one of their own.”

Brian flushed. “I don’t talk to germs. I just think they’re jolly interesting, is all.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Adam Young said, leaned back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head. “Someone ought to, right? Otherwise we’d all die of cholera or something.”

Aziraphale frowned into his wineglass. “Nasty illness, cholera. I remember the pump outbreak …” He shook his head, putting an end to that reverie, and smiled at Brian instead. “It is fortunate you have such an interest, Brian - the world needs doctors, certainly.”

“So what’s medical school like these days?” Crowley asked, a mirror of Adam, leaned back in his chair with his feet on the table, idly swirling the scotch in his glass. “Last time I tried was, oh, the sixteenth century I think. Thereabouts.” He winced. “Pretty sure it’s got on since then. Hopefully.”

“Oh, yes,” Brian nodded. “Yes, I’d imagine it is. Very structured now, and there’s labs and independent study and practicing skills and all kinds of things, not to mention all the lectures and exams.”

“So many,” Pepper agreed mournfully. “Endless exams.”

“D’you practice on mannequins then?” Crowley looked thoughtful. “I’d imagine they do a good bit with mannequins.”

“Some yeah. And then some - the safer stuff - we practice on each other. Y’know …” Brian thought, waving his hands vaguely. “Listening to lungs and hearts, eye tests, that kind of stuff.”

Aziraphale looked up at that. “Eye tests, you say?” He looked across the table to Crowley, a grin slowly spreading over his lips. “Crowley, dear, we could finally settle the debate -”

“No. No, we can’t.”

Newt, who had been washing up in the kitchen, returned, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Debate? What are we debating, then?”

“Nothing,” Crowley griped. “Angel has been insisting for the past decade or whatever - since you kids were eleven, however long ago that was -”

“A decade,” Wensley confirmed.

“Right, so that long, I’ve had to hear about how I really shouldn’t be driving because snakes don’t have good visual acuity.” Crowley spread his hands. “To which I make my point: if I really couldn’t see, you think I would’ve gone this long with the Bentley without crashing it? Armageddon notwithstanding, that was extenuating circumstances.”

Aziraphale muttered into his wine, “Only thanks to occasionally-gratuitous use of miracles.”

“Occasionally, angel! Occasionally doesn’t count. Not like it’s a daily occurrence.

“And anyway, my vision’s better than a human’s at a distance and in the dark,” Crowley said authoritatively. “Horizontal planes an’ light refraction and all that. Saw a film about it.”

“Listened to a film about it,” Aziraphale mumbled. Adam snorted.

“Wasn’t very nice,” the boy said, although he was grinning.

Pepper laughed a little too, while Crowley presumably glared at Aziraphale - the sunglasses, as ever, made it difficult to tell for sure. “It’d be easy enough to test, if you really wanted to.”

“I don’t.”

“Not even for a wager?” Crowley looked at Aziraphale at that, and a long silence stretched out. The Them and Newt watched, rapt, because they’d only ever seen the two supernatural entities bet on something once before, and that was whether or not either of them could, after two bottles of wine, climb to the top of the biggest tree in Hogback wood without using miracles, wings, or shapeshifting*. They had, if memory served, wagered an entire years’ worth of song-selection privileges. It was, perhaps, fortunate that neither had won the bet, because in retrospect Adam considered it a distinct possibility that an ultimatum like that could only have ended in some kind of argument**.

[* They couldn’t, but no one had paid attention to that, because the entire spectacle was so hilarious that the end result was fairly irrelevant, and Crowley turned into a snake when he thought no one was watching and cheated anyway. ]

[** Crowley and Aziraphale, after the Nahpocalypse, argued very seldom, but being that neither liked to do anything by halves, arguments were usually intensely dramatic, if short-lived. The last argument had resulted in Crowley living in the garden at Jasmine Cottage as a snake for a weekend, and only ended because Newt threatened to call animal control on him if the two didn’t reach some kind of agreement about whether or not Tom or John Barnaby was the better detective .]

The demon was tempted. “What are the stakes?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Something.” Aziraphale shrugged. “Let’s say … oh, alright. You win, and I turn a blind eye to whatever you want to do to your plants for a month before the flower show next year.”

The Them and Newt, like spectators at a chess match, breathed out. “Oh, that’s a good one,” Brian mumbled.

“But if I win, which I will, of course, then …” Aziraphale considered it. “Then …” He thought harder, and then beamed. “Then next time the neighbors want to take a week holiday, you have to take care of their smallholding by yourself .” There were assorted gasps from around the table.

Crowley barked a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“Because you know you’d lose.”

“No, because I always end up taking care of the smallholding by myself anyway, bloody goats.” Crowley leaned his elbows onto the table and tapped his chin with steepled fingers. “Right, when I win, I’ll … or you …” He brightened. “I get to yell at my plants, and you have to let me move the statue into the living room for an entire year.”

Aziraphale groaned. “Not the statue. No, just the plants.”

“No, the statue is a part of this.”

“When I win,” Aziraphale soldiered on, pretending they were not arguing about Crowley’s infamous Angel Statue that served as a crucial part of every argument and poorly-concealed threat in their relationship, “you have to put the blasted statue in a storage unit somewhere, and you take the speakers off that abhorrent vacuum cleaner."

Crowley looked appalled. “You’d cut out DJ Roomba’s tongue for a bet?”

“I’m hardly -” He looked to Crowley, and then relented, with a sigh. “Alright. No speaker on DJ Roomba for three months. Then you can put the speakers back on.” He seized Crowley’s hand the moment the other extended it, and they shook on it, both with equal enthusiasm and smugness. “I look forward to my three months of peace.”

“Can’t wait to put my statue in the living room and kill those bloody fittonias at last.”

Pepper and Brian exchanged a look, while Adam, Newt, and Wensley were trying to hide their laughter behind their hands. “We should print a Snellen chart,” Pepper said solemnly.

“Definitely need a Snellen chart.”

Newt nodded and stood from the table. “The printer is has bluetooth. Wait for me to be outside before you connect to it.”

Once Newt had vacated the building briefly, it was easy enough to print the eye chart. Adam found a measuring tape in a cookie tin full of sewing supplies***, and they solemnly marked out the ascribed distance. “Never done one of these before,” Crowley said, sobered-up for the endeavor. “What, you’re just supposed to read it?” Aziraphale was standing over his shoulder, arms crossed, looking so smug he might as well have already won. Perhaps he had.

[*** “ Why do you need it?” Anathema had asked him as she rocked Millie to sleep on her shoulder. Adam had explained, and she had nodded. “Oh, definitely,” she’d said. “The sewing kit is still in the linen closet in the bathroom - there should be a tape measure in there. Wait until I put Millie down to bed. I want to be there.” ]

“Yeah, you cover one eye,” Pepper instructed. “Right, and then you read the smallest line you can see. Ready?”

“Easiest bet I’ve ever won,” Crowley said, motioning to Brian to flip the corkboard he’d pinned the chart to. “Right, go for it.” The board flipped, and Crowley blinked. “Well, there’s the big ‘E’ at the top.”

“Everyone knows the big E,” Anathema said, dismissive. “He said read the smallest line you can.”

“Right. Ah …” There was an uncomfortable pause. “Can I try the other eye?”

“I knew it,” Aziraphale hissed triumphantly.

Brian swallowed. “Uh. In a minute. Um. Which … which direction is the ‘E’ pointing, then?”

Crowley frowned. “Whatever way ‘E’s usually point. What kind of stupid question is that?”

The assembled humans and one angel looked at the ‘E’ which was, very clearly, printed backwards. Aziraphale raised his hands to his mouth. “Crowley, you drove us here.”

“So? Didn’t crash, did I?” He switched eyes. “Oh, yeah, the other one’s better.”

“You’re serious?” Brian asked, craning his neck around to stare at the chart. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, so what’s that mean, then?” Crowley stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back onto his heels.

Pepper grimaced. “You’re legally blind?”

“No, that can’t be right.” He shrugged. “I drove us here, didn’t I?”

“He drove us here at 100 miles per hour,” Aziraphale added, in a mix of astonishment and terror.

“Right, and didn’t hit anything -”

“This time,” Anathema muttered under her breath.

“And made great time, all here, safe as houses.” He smirked. “Could a legally blind guy do that?”

“Maybe Daredevil,” said Newt, unhelpfully.

“Anyway,” Crowley went on, turning away to stalk across the room, past his horrified angel, and flick off the light switch, instantly plunging the room into darkness, “you’re not looking at this the right way. Move the chart around a bit, med student,” he instructed, the last part said with some disdain.

“You’re not at the line,” Brian protested.

“Just move it.” There was a whisper in the dark as the corkboard started moving in irregular figure-of-eights, Brian waving it around. Had it been light enough to see, his confusion would have been plainly evident on his face. “Right, so you got the ‘E’, which is backwards, then F, P, ah … T, O, Z, er … right, faster, okay, L, P, E, D, and then … Hm. Yeah, not sure after that.” The lights flipped back on, and Crowley put his sunglasses on. “So there.”

All the others looked from Crowley, to the eye chart, and back. “How?” Adam demanded. “You didn’t mess around -”

“Nocturnal ambush predator,” Crowley replied, as if it were obvious. “Plus, the ink’s still a bit warm from the printer. So even easier, really - I’ve got a whole extra sense, even, unless humans can see infra-red.”

“We can’t,” Wensley assured him.

“Right, so what’s that make me, then? I win, obviously.”

Aziraphale jumped in then. “Oh, no, no you don’t. Under human standards -”

“That was never specified.” Crowley grinned, and showed his teeth. Nocturnal ambush predator indeed. “Don’t try that with me, angel, remember which one of us is the demon, here.”

“It was inferred.”

“No such thing in a bet. Has to be expressly specified.” Crowley made a fist. “The fittonias die tonight.”

Since the lights had come back on, Anathema had been frowning, her lips moving occasionally as she clearly puzzled something over. She spoke, finally, slowly, and said, “But … but when you hit me with your car … it was night. And I was moving. And you were moving.” She looked at him, frowning. “You should have seen me, then.”

Crowley shrugged. “Wasn’t paying attention. No harm done, anyway.”

“Not after Aziraphale fixed me!”

Crowley scoffed. “Right. Like I said.” He pointed to Aziraphale. “I’m making an entire pop playlist for DJ Roomba just for this, angel.” He grinned even wider. “And I’m moving the statue as soon as we get home.”

“Really, dear boy, I don’t think this is as clear-cut as you say.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” Crowley pointed to Brian and Pepper. “Med students, stop me if I’m wrong -” they wouldn’t “- but the definition of visual acuity does allow for corrective devices, yes?”

“Yes,” said Pepper, while Aziraphale groused, “A moving chart and total darkness do not count as corrective devices, you know they mean glasses -”

“So there you go.” Crowley crossed the room and tore the chart from the board. “With corrective devices I’m … 20/50. So there. Not perfect but I still win.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were narrowed. “That’s cheating.”

“Again, if it’s not specified in the terms then technically it is not cheating. I’ve got books about this somewhere^, Aziraphale.” He spread his hands. “I’ve made a few bets and bargains in my life, believe it or not.”

[^ Books that were, he would not add, written in blood and bound in human skin.]

Aziraphale scowled. “You’re not putting that statue out.”

“Oh, but I am. I won the privilege.”

“You didn’t win anything.”

“Oh, but I did.” Crowley rubbed his hands together. “I definitely did. By the laws of betting.” He clapped Brian on the shoulder. “Thanks for moving the chart, kid.”

“And not letting the ink dry all the way,” Adam added under his breath with a poorly-stifled laugh.

Aziraphale was still scowling at Crowley, arms crossed over his chest. “We’ll discuss this further in the car.”

Crowley made a noise that might have been a chuckle, if there wasn’t just so much infernal glee instilled in it. “You sure you want me to drive home?” The angel’s wine glass miraculously filled itself. “Oh, so you’re going to be like that?"

“That statue is going out over my discorporated body.”

“It’s a very expensive statue.” He wilted a little under the blue fire in Aziraphale’s eyes. “Alright, we can talk about it in the car.”

The angel swallowed the wine in one gulp. “Capital.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #the them #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #crowley is a snake in a human suit #you will never change my mind

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