Dissenter's request for:
Regarding the potential of a Good Omens crossover. You know I feel like Anathema and Basil would have a lot to talk about. Especially regarding fate, unfortunate ancestors, and the general idiocy and lack of practicality in the population as a whole.
A coincidental meeting is, as the name suggests, quite coincidental. So, one should not question particularly hard how two particular personages found themselves eating ice cream in an ice cream parlor.
If you asked the younger of the two, he would tell you that all sensible discussions should be carried out in the presence of ice cream, given that it doesn't send you to sleep like wine does and doesn't leave you with a hangover afterwards either. The older of the two, while not particular in agreement with the sentiment, had no particular objections to it either.
"As I understand it, you're the new Antichrist." Anathema Device raised an eyebrow, "On the other hand, you aren't planning to destroy the world anytime soon."
The boy shrugged, "Created by man, not the divine or the divine descended. There are consequences to that. There are too many forces seeking the world's unmaking, better to defy them than join them."
Anathema looked her companion over, and came to the conclusion that, while he was somewhat unlike the previous Antichrist (who was now attempting to make sense of University with the Them), he didn't seem like the world-destroying type either. Not even if the world was being a bit unreasonable. Still, there was quite a large difference between benign, harmful, and malicious. Adam hadn't thought about just unmaking the world, from hos he told it. "Do you hear voices telling you that you should change the world?"
"Why would there be a need to hear them?" The boy ate ice cream. "We are changing the world. Writing telling you to change the world seems to be ubiquitous as well."
"I'll concede that." Anathema admitted, given that she still found lost cards with bits of prophecy on them, "To be fair, Agnes was mostly focused on her descendants."
"Father seemed to consider his descendants instruments." The boy offered, "Agnes left you helpful instructions because you were there and you needed them. Father had a habit of charging us with things just because he doesn't trust anyone else do them properly.
"That's even worse." Anathema made a face, "But at least you don't get comments. I'd almost prefer grand, sweeping statements of unfortunate vagueness, if niʃeness and accuracy include suggestions on bath order and lingerie purchase."
"Instructions would have been nice though." Basil said sadly, "They would have made untangling a collection of vague memories of doom and a strong admonishment to keep things undoomed quite a bit simpler."
"They'd also leave you busy trying to figure out what other people are telling you to do, as well as how you should do them, instead of just thinking about what you should do." The (former) professional Descendant pointed out.
"True." The boy agreed. "Instructions are supposed to be helpful, but people have a habit of turning them into orders. Do this, do that. They could just set down useful information and trust us. Isn't that the point of death? You know that you won't always be around to solve problems, so you know that no matter how good you are, you have to consider how other people behave."
"Problems of mortality aside." The witch grimaced, "You still haven't told me just what you are defying."
"Tradition, the weight of history, and the nature of humanity," the new Antichrist snorted, "All the factors that make fate inevitable. As well as the occasional personality who rages against the world."
"There are always a few of those types who want to hurt people just because they are having an unpleasant time." Anathema sympathized, "Led to witch-burnings in the olden days. Now it's apocalypses."
"And time travel." Basil pressed his cheek to the cool tabletop, "Which doesn't make sense. The future can be changed by the present—it's easier to consider it dimension travel. Still very tiring."
"And to think, we had no idea about the messes happening under our noses." Anathema looked critically at her ice cream, as if expecting some new crisis to pop up from the melt. The cold-resistant microbial revolution happening in the melt wisely died down at the look.
"The dam of a thousand leagues is destroyed by ant-burrows." Basil winced, "I still sound like the Exiled Prince's daughter. Anyways, it's profoundly annoying how we all have to stop our end times, but they only need to win once for all of our efforts to be for naught."
"Well, their track record speaks against them, doesn't it?" Anathema pointed out, quite reasonably, "We're still alright, and they still aren't winning."
Basil toasted her with a spoon, "True."