....But at least I'm being productive!
Jul. 27th, 2005 11:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vulgarweedI palm responsibility for this one off on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
murasaki99 based on a totally off-hand comment.
Because EVERY slash OTP needs silly wedding fics, and because I went looking for one for Crowley and Aziraphale, and came up empty-handed. (Found a good one for Hastur and Ligur, though - with mpreg, no less!)
So.
Title: Special Day
Fandom: Good Omens
Rating: PG (should be a relief after the Gauntcest)
Author's notes: The Farce is strong with this one. Almost everybody gets a cameo.
The idea had begun as a joke. They thought it had originally had something to do with a squabble over dishwashing sometime in the High Middle Ages. Eventually the joke got so old it ceased to be funny--and if it wasn’t funny then it must be serious, underneath all the forced, nervous snickering.
They both knew they’d have to make a lot of compromises. Clearly Aziraphale was not going to get a romantic High Church traditional complete with kneeling and benediction and choir. And clearly Crowley was not going to get a licentious Black Mass complete with entrail-reading, goats, and public consummation on the altar. They were more than fine with that, deciding at last that making too much of a fuss was rather embarrassing and not in the best of taste, considering that neither’s, er, family, was exactly thrilled about the matter. Well, a pox on both their houses. Clearly Earth was the only place something like this could be done, and probably best in the afternoon.
Still, it was an important occasion and it wouldn’t do to be slovenly about it. Crowley’s sharp black suit and Aziraphale’s gleaming white robes made the occasion look almost traditional after all — in the worst possible way — and they’d both had their feathers professionally styled. They were doing an admirable job of hiding their jitters (except that Crowley kept quietly threatening his boutonniere).
The same couldn’t be said for the poor civil servant stuck administering the honours.
“Er…do you take this…person…entity…to be your….
“Lawfully wedded…” prompted Aziraphale helpfully.
“Well, not really,” muttered Crowley. “I mean, not really lawfully. I mean, of course I do take him…as often as possible…” Strange. That sharp elbow in his ribs hadn’t been there before.
“In sickness and in health…”
“Sure, theoretically.”
“For better or for worse…”
“Worse than what – the end of the world?”
“Shut up!”
“t—to ….love….honour….and ch-cherish…”
The clerk was clearly deeply flustered now. He’d got everything all out of order, and this last bit was making two extremely unattractive man-shaped things sitting on the aisle quite audibly and tangibly gag. The matronly lady next to them with too much makeup nudged them disapprovingly and passed them a heavily perfumed handkerchief. “Pansies,” grumbled her small, sullen companion. The taller, skinnier creature mopped up a few stray maggots from his chin.
“Certainly, yes,” said Aziraphale happily, watching Crowley squirm and blush with great satisfaction.
“…til death do you part…”
OH NO, an extremely tall and thin guest tried and failed to mutter quietly, THEY’RE NOT MY PROBLEM.
“Oh, f’r cripes sake,” said a very handsome young man in the front row, stepping forward. He patted the official sympathetically on the shoulder. “I think you’re in over your head here, sir. Let me handle this one.”
Though the mysterious young man presented no credentials to speak of, this still struck the erstwhile officiant as an excellent idea, and he proceeded to exit stage left and get very drunk.
“Don’t you worry,” the man whispered to Crowley and Aziraphale, who were exchanging rings fumblingly [1]. “I know all about you two.” Crowley blanched and Aziraphale blushed.
When he said, “By the Power vested in me…” the whole village trembled. When he hesitated for a moment over “What … events…have brought together, let No One put asunder…” most of the guests gasped in awe. When he said, “Go on, kiss your…spouse,” Crowley and Aziraphale found it literally impossible to do anything else. Or to take a break once they’d started, so they had to give up all pretense of breathing.
After that, the reception was bound to be anticlimactic, and it was, although around the dance floor where a man in white swayed with one in black, the hall was inexplicably smelly and sticky-floored and the caterers kept running out of everything but Anathema Device-Pulsifer’s macrobiotic cookies [2]. And even Crowley’s “side” couldn’t be blamed for the brawl that broke out when a striking redhead decided she preferred another striking redhead [3] to any of the men who’d been following her around like angry, horny ducklings.
The newlyweds, meanwhile, were still kissing. It would have been nice if their officiant had specified a decent interval of escape, but this at least required little compromise, and they were long past embarrassment.
~fin~
[1] The ring Aziraphale gave Crowley had once belonged to an alleged Pope and had been kissed by more cardinals than an American birdfeeder in January. But the Pope had turned out to be quite the poseur, and rather debauched at that, and responsible for some very eccentric edicts, so any lingering trace of conventional holiness about it was thoroughly diverted into something much more interesting. The ring Crowley gave Aziraphale had been found by archaeologists in a lava bed near Mt. Etna, and had a vague whiff of redemption: it had once been a powerful Horcrux belonging to a notorious Fallen sort, with an inscription in a language no one could read—except Aziraphale, who discreetly changed it to bear simply their names and “Forever.” The original had been a little ominous, although he supposed to “bind” was kind of the point, and “darkness” wasn’t so bad if it included a comfortable bed and Crowley.
[2] They were sugar- and animal-product- and white-flour- and additive- and preservative-free. They tasted like sticks and rocks.
[3] In both senses of the word “striking.”
murasaki99 based on a totally off-hand comment.Because EVERY slash OTP needs silly wedding fics, and because I went looking for one for Crowley and Aziraphale, and came up empty-handed. (Found a good one for Hastur and Ligur, though - with mpreg, no less!)
So.
Title: Special Day
Fandom: Good Omens
Rating: PG (should be a relief after the Gauntcest)
Author's notes: The Farce is strong with this one. Almost everybody gets a cameo.
The idea had begun as a joke. They thought it had originally had something to do with a squabble over dishwashing sometime in the High Middle Ages. Eventually the joke got so old it ceased to be funny--and if it wasn’t funny then it must be serious, underneath all the forced, nervous snickering.
They both knew they’d have to make a lot of compromises. Clearly Aziraphale was not going to get a romantic High Church traditional complete with kneeling and benediction and choir. And clearly Crowley was not going to get a licentious Black Mass complete with entrail-reading, goats, and public consummation on the altar. They were more than fine with that, deciding at last that making too much of a fuss was rather embarrassing and not in the best of taste, considering that neither’s, er, family, was exactly thrilled about the matter. Well, a pox on both their houses. Clearly Earth was the only place something like this could be done, and probably best in the afternoon.
Still, it was an important occasion and it wouldn’t do to be slovenly about it. Crowley’s sharp black suit and Aziraphale’s gleaming white robes made the occasion look almost traditional after all — in the worst possible way — and they’d both had their feathers professionally styled. They were doing an admirable job of hiding their jitters (except that Crowley kept quietly threatening his boutonniere).
The same couldn’t be said for the poor civil servant stuck administering the honours.
“Er…do you take this…person…entity…to be your….
“Lawfully wedded…” prompted Aziraphale helpfully.
“Well, not really,” muttered Crowley. “I mean, not really lawfully. I mean, of course I do take him…as often as possible…” Strange. That sharp elbow in his ribs hadn’t been there before.
“In sickness and in health…”
“Sure, theoretically.”
“For better or for worse…”
“Worse than what – the end of the world?”
“Shut up!”
“t—to ….love….honour….and ch-cherish…”
The clerk was clearly deeply flustered now. He’d got everything all out of order, and this last bit was making two extremely unattractive man-shaped things sitting on the aisle quite audibly and tangibly gag. The matronly lady next to them with too much makeup nudged them disapprovingly and passed them a heavily perfumed handkerchief. “Pansies,” grumbled her small, sullen companion. The taller, skinnier creature mopped up a few stray maggots from his chin.
“Certainly, yes,” said Aziraphale happily, watching Crowley squirm and blush with great satisfaction.
“…til death do you part…”
OH NO, an extremely tall and thin guest tried and failed to mutter quietly, THEY’RE NOT MY PROBLEM.
“Oh, f’r cripes sake,” said a very handsome young man in the front row, stepping forward. He patted the official sympathetically on the shoulder. “I think you’re in over your head here, sir. Let me handle this one.”
Though the mysterious young man presented no credentials to speak of, this still struck the erstwhile officiant as an excellent idea, and he proceeded to exit stage left and get very drunk.
“Don’t you worry,” the man whispered to Crowley and Aziraphale, who were exchanging rings fumblingly [1]. “I know all about you two.” Crowley blanched and Aziraphale blushed.
When he said, “By the Power vested in me…” the whole village trembled. When he hesitated for a moment over “What … events…have brought together, let No One put asunder…” most of the guests gasped in awe. When he said, “Go on, kiss your…spouse,” Crowley and Aziraphale found it literally impossible to do anything else. Or to take a break once they’d started, so they had to give up all pretense of breathing.
After that, the reception was bound to be anticlimactic, and it was, although around the dance floor where a man in white swayed with one in black, the hall was inexplicably smelly and sticky-floored and the caterers kept running out of everything but Anathema Device-Pulsifer’s macrobiotic cookies [2]. And even Crowley’s “side” couldn’t be blamed for the brawl that broke out when a striking redhead decided she preferred another striking redhead [3] to any of the men who’d been following her around like angry, horny ducklings.
The newlyweds, meanwhile, were still kissing. It would have been nice if their officiant had specified a decent interval of escape, but this at least required little compromise, and they were long past embarrassment.
~fin~
[1] The ring Aziraphale gave Crowley had once belonged to an alleged Pope and had been kissed by more cardinals than an American birdfeeder in January. But the Pope had turned out to be quite the poseur, and rather debauched at that, and responsible for some very eccentric edicts, so any lingering trace of conventional holiness about it was thoroughly diverted into something much more interesting. The ring Crowley gave Aziraphale had been found by archaeologists in a lava bed near Mt. Etna, and had a vague whiff of redemption: it had once been a powerful Horcrux belonging to a notorious Fallen sort, with an inscription in a language no one could read—except Aziraphale, who discreetly changed it to bear simply their names and “Forever.” The original had been a little ominous, although he supposed to “bind” was kind of the point, and “darkness” wasn’t so bad if it included a comfortable bed and Crowley.
[2] They were sugar- and animal-product- and white-flour- and additive- and preservative-free. They tasted like sticks and rocks.
[3] In both senses of the word “striking.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-07-28 04:59 am (UTC)The footnote on the rings killed me. Horcrux! *flails*
And I was quite fond of Death's little outburst.
So so excellent!!
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Date: 2005-07-28 05:06 am (UTC)It IS! The most famous Horcrux in fantasy literature, no less! :D
Hee. I love DEATH. At least in theory.
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Date: 2005-08-02 03:34 pm (UTC)A brilliant little bit, and I do hope they managed to stop kissing at some point...
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Date: 2005-07-28 05:03 am (UTC)And so... who exactly did the officiating? Jesus Himself? or his um... counterpart? I'd vote for the Good Man - he'd approve of more Love in the word, most definitely!
I've got my own copy of GO, will start it this weekend when I have a block of time for just reading fer fun.
Darn, you should have Morrie playing the piano for the reception - and maybe a hot horn player accompanying him.
And is it my imagination or has Desire decided to date War? Oh well, it might keep both of them out of trouble for a little while. It would be cool if there was planetary peace for the day/week/month since everyone is too hung over to think of mischief. XD
I loved this! Whee! Par-tay!
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Date: 2005-07-28 05:04 am (UTC)And Crowley's ring for Aziriphale!! Snerk! Too funny!
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Date: 2005-07-28 05:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-28 05:10 am (UTC)That was Adam, the alleged Antichrist, who wound up being raised by a proper English family and is quite a sweet, normal lad really, except he's got a very vivid imagination, bursts of terrifying wisdom, and is just a little bit omnipotent. (Can you be a little bit omnipotent? Like being a little bit pregnant? He could probably do that too if he wanted to.:D)
The other redhead is Pepper, Adam's friend, all grown up. (She was born on a hippie commune and her real name is Pippin Galadriel Moonchild--she got quick with her fists at an early age). Adam and his friends have a special relationship with the Horsepersons.
(The man in white and the man in black are Pollution and Famine respectively, hence the dire effect on the reception refreshments.)
no subject
Date: 2005-07-28 05:25 am (UTC)Ever read a book titled 'The Second Son'? Wonderful story, where the second Son of God arrives in the form of a steelworker whose first clue he's a bit 'different' comes after he survives a fall from a skyscraper. Great story, out of print and somewhat hard to find since the Church had a fit about it. :) Well worth reading.
I rather like Pepper's name!
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Date: 2005-07-28 05:53 am (UTC)That book sounds good - who wrote it?
I rather like Pepper's name too, although I think I'd be more likely to give it to a cat than a child. :)
Damn, I'm a posting fool today. Three times, one with a truly nasty Potterverse fic that I don't expect anyone to read, and one with the wonderful news that
no subject
Date: 2005-07-30 11:55 pm (UTC)Hagrid would eat it! *Chomp, Gulp!* Say, hez ennyone got the recipe for these? They're right good, they are! XD
I believe the author of The Second Son is Charles Sailor. Need to order a copy used from Amazon. Lent my copy out years ago and it never returned. :(
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Date: 2005-07-28 05:18 am (UTC)this is just brilliantly delightful!!!!!!
details like Crowley threatening his boutonniere and maggots and Madame Tracy and those fantastic *footnotes*!!!!! oh, this was wonderful.
and Adam with all his Power? and War/Pepper (yippee!)???
I just really enjoyed this, dear.\
xoxo mary
ps. your Gaunt-cest bestiality fic scares me.... but I'll imagine I'll make my way over there just the same, especially as it's your return foray into the HP world!
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Date: 2005-07-28 05:24 am (UTC)I had a lot of fun with the footnotes. Can you see Anathema and Famine trading recipes for dishes with nothing in them?
War/Pepper, I love that. There should be more of it.
Don't feel obligated to take on the Gauntcest. It's a specialty item, that's for sure.
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Date: 2005-07-28 06:19 am (UTC)(I loved this WHOLE THING. hee.)
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Date: 2005-07-28 06:23 am (UTC)Thanks so much, sweets!
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Date: 2005-07-28 01:50 pm (UTC)OH NO, an extremely tall and thin guest tried and failed to mutter quietly, THEY’RE NOT MY PROBLEM.
*Giggles* Poor Azrael, it really was rather presumptuous to think that he should bear any kind of responsibility for this one.
My favourite bit however is the footnote about the rings. I now have a terribly clear image of Voldemort and Sauron having a heated argument in which Voldemort brings up the fact that he had more Horcrux's than Sauron, and Sauron retaliating with the 'it's not the number it's what you do with them' line.
no subject
Date: 2005-07-28 10:06 pm (UTC)and Hastur and Ligur's utter disgust was all to easy to imagine, though I did wonder what had possessed Crowley and Aziraphale to actually invite them.
Probably something to do with the consequences of offending them by not inviting them. They got a sinking feeling when they opened the RSVP.
Azrael has to deal with a lot of crazies in his line of work, but is always relieved when the worst of them are immortal. Out of his jurisdiction.
It's not the size of the Ring....
Then again, that was a fairly humiliating way for Sauron to go. "Your Horcrux was destroyed by a what?!?"
no subject
Date: 2005-07-28 03:35 pm (UTC)>(except that Crowley kept quietly threatening his boutonniere).
I can see it all too easily.
>“Don’t you worry,” the man whispered to Crowley and Aziraphale, >who were exchanging rings fumblingly [1]. “I know all about you >two.” Crowley blanched and Aziraphale blushed.
I always believed that's EXACTLY what Adam meant when he said that line :)
>had been kissed by more cardinals than an American birdfeeder in >January.
Utterly perfect simile.
>it had once been a powerful Horcrux belonging to a notorious >Fallen sort, with an inscription in a language no one could read
Oooh, good point about the One Ring being a Horcrux. Wouldn't have thought of that.
Also, it only makes sense that they give each other rings that originally were good/evil and have been tainted to the point of being almost, but not quite, on the other side. Like themselves :) And of course there's the phallic symbolism of slipping a body part through the ring... Ack, my mind! You'd think Pollution had been strolling through it!
>“What … events…have brought together, let No One put asunder…” >most of the guests gasped in awe.
Damn right! That goes for Both Sides, eh?
>The newlyweds, meanwhile, were still kissing. It would have been >nice if their officiant had specified a decent interval of >escape, but this at least required little compromise, and they >were long past embarrassment.
Might as well just go with the on-the-altar-consummation at that rate :p
Thank you! Adorable and MUCH overdue wedding fic!
Trying now to decide how to do a pic... (I'm addicted, it's hopeless.)
no subject
Date: 2005-07-29 02:16 am (UTC)>“Don’t you worry,” the man whispered to Crowley and Aziraphale, >who were exchanging rings fumblingly [1]. “I know all about you >two.” Crowley blanched and Aziraphale blushed.
I always believed that's EXACTLY what Adam meant when he said that line :)
One of many eyebrow-raisers in that book, innit? ;) Also quite reassuring. Maybe they weren't quite able to appreciate that yet. The readers certainly were.
Oooh, good point about the One Ring being a Horcrux. Wouldn't have thought of that.
That was one of the very first things I thought of reading that chapter. Eheheheh, knew I'd have to use it somewhere soon. I'm pleased with myself for achieving a three-way crossover in a single footnote. :)
Also, it only makes sense that they give each other rings that originally were good/evil and have been tainted to the point of being almost, but not quite, on the other side.
Yup! They don't really have perfect equilibrium and never did--Aziraphale has always been more truly good than Crowley was ever truly evil, IMO--but it does underline the theme of meeting halfway rather nicely.
Like themselves :) And of course there's the phallic symbolism of slipping a body part through the ring... Ack, my mind! You'd think Pollution had been strolling through it!
Eheheheh. Yes, that's a given. :D
I worry that when Pollution goes through my mind I write things like that Gauntcest story...brrr. But better Pollution than Famine - writer's block SUCKS.
>“What … events…have brought together, let No One put asunder…” >most of the guests gasped in awe.
Damn right! That goes for Both Sides, eh?
I would think so!
Really, really glad you enjoyed it, hon. And of course if you feel like drawing it...:D
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Date: 2005-07-29 11:55 am (UTC)That's cuz we're smart :p And perverted.
Er... I avoid incest fics (personal reasons). But yes, no Famine of the brain cells, pretty please.
*Sigh* Already starting :/ I can't help myself, apparently. This one's a bit less serious than the first two, though. Obviously
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Date: 2005-07-28 03:57 pm (UTC)And I need an icon that say "angry, horny ducklings."
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Date: 2005-07-29 02:09 am (UTC)Like all fandoms, it's a big ol' mixed bag, but it's kinda small and cozy--and has a higher average quality than some others 'cause it hasn't been made into a blockbuster movie, so at least most of the writers are literate.
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Date: 2005-07-29 02:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-28 06:51 pm (UTC)besides Tom Bombadil--oh wait, he doesn't exist in the fandom anymore, does he? Thanks, Peter Jacksonit would be Aziraphale. XDno subject
Date: 2005-07-29 02:07 am (UTC)I'm sure Aziraphale would find Tom charming and fascinating, and Crowley would want to obliterate him ten minutes in. He DOES SO exist in the fandom....well, sort of. I wrote a love poem from Goldberry's POV view once anyway.no subject
Date: 2005-07-29 03:36 pm (UTC)Whee! I <3 Tom and Goldberry.no subject
Date: 2005-07-30 12:20 am (UTC)I wouldn't admit that I like to write in that style to just anybody, you know. ;)
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Date: 2005-07-31 05:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-01 03:56 am (UTC)Thanks for the sweet review over there!
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Date: 2005-07-29 02:18 pm (UTC)....
I worship your mind.
(except that Crowley kept quietly threatening his boutonniere).
♥
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Date: 2005-07-29 02:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-30 12:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-30 12:24 am (UTC)So glad to please.