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ingravinoveritas · 9 months

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How do you feel about the fact that angels and demons are non-sexual beings in Good omens?

Anon #1: Well, this is a great question and I appreciate you sending it in for me to answer. Including the other Anons here since they are relevant.

I actually have a lot of feelings about angels and demons being non-sexual beings in Good Omens, which I will do my best to explain. I think the first thing I have to do is make sure I understand what you mean by non-sexual. I know Neil has said that angels and demons do not have genitalia "unless they make an effort," so by that measure, we can say angels and demons are genderless beings (agender or genderqueer perhaps as well, depending on the angel or demon). That, to me, is distinctive and not the same thing as non-sexual, which I consider to be beings who--by design or choice--do not engage in sexual intercourse.

The other thing we have to consider is the distinction between book!Good Omens and TV show!Good Omens. I have not finished reading the book, but it is my understanding that Neil (and Terry, of course) established the angels and demons as genderless in the original text. When the show was adapted for television, 30 years had passed since the novel was published, and so much had changed in that time, so a lot of things were updated to have Good Omens more align with the sensibilities of the modern era (one example is Neil talking about Crowley's aesthetic as an early '90s "Wall Street" type and how they had to figure out what the equivalent of that would be in the present day).

One thing that hasn't changed very much, however, is the portrayal of gay/queer people in the media. For much of those intervening 30 years, gay and queer people were shown as stereotypes--flamboyant, one-dimensional caricatures who existed as "sidekicks" (the "gay BFF") or object lessons for the straight characters (I would say this was especially the case in the late '80s and '90s with the AIDS crisis).

By this time, gay and queer people could exist on TV, but only if they were non-sexual/sexless. One example of this is Blanche's brother Clayton on The Golden Girls. After he comes out to Blanche, he brings home his fiance Doug in a subsequent episode, which has Blanche indignant. "I don't really mind Clayton being homosexual, I just don't like him dating men." Another example is Will & Grace, which aired in the late '90s. Will was a gay man who was one of the main characters, but while we constantly saw Grace falling into bed with random men and all sorts of escapades related to her sex life, we were never shown Will in any sort of similar situation. He could be gay, and he could be Grace's BFF, but he couldn't have a sex life of his own. It was this idea that gay people could exist in abstract terms, but not in the concrete reality of what it meant to be gay. Homophobia disguised as "acceptance."

So when I see/hear the word "non-sexual" in relation to gay and queer people, this is what comes to mind. What I also think of is that the absence of gay male sexuality (as for the majority of the show, Aziraphale and Crowley are male-presenting) is not the same thing as the presence of asexuality. I think it's been remarkably easy for Neil to take credit for that when it doesn't seem to have been his actual intention, and it also removes from him the responsibility of portraying that specific aspect of a non-heterosexual love story.

One thing I want to be very clear on is that I am in no way trying to put down anyone's head canon or what any reader or viewer may see in these characters, and I will never say that anyone's head canons are not valid. But when we are talking about the canon--in other words, what is actually on the screen--I feel like there is a tendency to overlook what Michael and David are actually doing with these characters.

In addition to what I mentioned above about gay characters on TV in the '80s and '90s, the other thing you absolutely could not do as a gay or queer person was fall in love. This is alluded to more in the example above from The Golden Girls, where Blanche is horrified that her brother wants to marry a man, until Sophia finally helps her understand:

Blanche: "Oh, look, I can accept the fact that he's gay, but why does he have to slip a ring on this guy's finger so the whole world will know?" Sophia: "Why did you marry George?" Blanche: "We loved each other. We wanted to make a lifetime commitment. Wanted everybody to know." Sophia: "That's what Doug and Clayton want, too. Everyone wants someone to grow old with. And shouldn't everyone have that chance?"

Here we are now, over 30 years later, and some people still don't want everyone to have that chance. Some people think two people of the same sex can't love each other the way a man and a woman do. Because queer love--and especially love between two men--is still looked at as "less than" and inferior to straight love.

This is the world Michael and David grew up in. This is the social and cultural climate they saw and navigated their own sexuality and identity in--'80s Britain, Margaret Thatcher, Section 28. Where being gay or queer wasn't just immoral, it was illegal. Your very existence alone was stigmatized, pathologized, and criminalized. And they are bringing that lived experience into the roles of Aziraphale and Crowley, albeit in different ways.

To me, Michael is playing Aziraphale as a repressed gay man. A man who--much like David--grew up in the faith and was made to believe that his natural feelings, attractions, and desires were wrong, shameful, and disgusting. We see this with Gabriel deriding Aziraphale for eating sushi and enjoying other Earthly pleasures, and it would be logical to think that it's taken a long time for Aziraphale to feel comfortable with the foods/drink/books he likes and the pleasure they bring him. Similarly, it's taken Aziraphale a millennia to find the one being who makes him feel comfortable with the desires he has. The being who is the exception to every rule Heaven ever laid out, who encourages Aziraphale to be himself in every respect. And that's Crowley.

In this scene in the Bastille (which I know has been analyzed a thousand times and a thousand ways), when Aziraphale looks at Crowley like this, the desire rising up in him is more than obvious. The wide eyes, the heaving bosom, and of course the smoldering up-and-down glance all speak to this--he is, quite literally, checking Crowley out, without shame, possibly for the first time ever. Even though that desire is not outwardly expressed in GO season 1, it does not mean it doesn't exist--only that Aziraphale letting himself feel this (and Crowley being the one entity who allows him to feel this) is the first step in a very long journey away from that lifetime of repression.

In terms of Crowley, I feel that David is playing Crowley as a gay man who is afraid of commitment because he has been hurt in the past. There is a feeling of impermanence to Crowley--that, despite being a celestial, immortal entity, he doesn't like to hold onto things because deep down, he believes they will eventually be taken away. He knows who he is, but is all too aware of the consequences that come with it. So he does not get attached, because to him, attachment equals pain, and he believes nothing is worth that risk.

In the church scene in 1941 (which, again, so much has already been said), Crowley saves Aziraphale's books from the wreckage. It's been said by many that Crowley fell in love long before this (which I do think is true), but for me, I feel like this was where we saw that Crowley was truly "attached" to Aziraphale. He rescued Aziraphale from the Bastille, and he saved Aziraphale from the bombs of the Blitz, but in grabbing the books, Crowley isn't just saving Aziraphale's body--he's holding onto a piece of his soul. For the first time ever, Crowley has found something that isn't temporary, and after a millennia of cynicism, Aziraphale is the one entity who makes him feel fully and wholeheartedly ready to commit to something.

This is what I have seen and perceived in the portrayals of Aziraphale and Crowley that Michael and David have given us. I absolutely do 100% believe that asexual folks deserve representation--representation that is clear and specific, not just a side effect of Neil not wanting to show these characters expressing outward sexual desires--but I do not believe that is how Michael and David are playing the characters. It's not enough--or at least it shouldn't be--to have characters of marginalized backgrounds just standing in the room, or to say, "This one's gay," "This one's nonbinary," "This one's asexual." Including these identities in the fabric of the story means doing what Michael and David have done, which is showing these people or beings as three-dimensional, as fully realized characters who happen to have that identity, rather than as ticked boxes representing a certain identity on a checklist.

And to the Anons mentioning the Radio Times article (which seems like it came out a hundred years ago now)--Anon #4 particularly--I appreciate you sharing your thoughts with me, but I could not disagree with you more.

First of all, I have no idea where in the world you got that Aziraphale and Crowley's romance was explicit in season 1, because it was absolutely anything but. Three days after they posted that, RT posted another article seemingly backtracking on everything they'd previously said (as if we'd all somehow pulled a Gabriel Jim and forgotten everything about the first article). The phrase "Could romance be on the cards after all?" is in the bloody headline of article #2, which to me says that RT is going to go in whichever direction the wind blows--to create engagement and generate clicks--but also that it is very clear what they meant by "conventional" in the first article. I do not get the feeling that Radio Times--a mainstream publication that seemingly publishes any story they can farm from social media--was thinking of ace or aro identities or relationships when writing that. Even a tiny little bit.

Even a queer-centric media outlet like Pride today published an article saying the first season of GO lacked LGBTQ+ representation. Obviously, I do not at all agree with this or with several other things mentioned in the article. But what I am challenging folks to do is think about what this is really saying. By the end of GO 1 season, everyone accepts and assumes that Madame Tracy and Shadwell are a couple. She makes eyes at him, they have dinner together, and no one questions them being a couple, even though they are not shown being physically affectionate. Aziraphale and Crowley do exactly the same things, but no one (speaking of the larger public, outside the hardcore fan base) assumes they are a couple.

Maybe what that means, then, is that "representation" that requires you to squint and turn your head in order to see it--like Aziraphale and Crowley holding hands on the bus--isn't really representation at all. And by Neil "not wanting to label" something, it seems to suggest that committing to a label or embracing that gayness is something he is not comfortable with--for any number of reasons--and is why we could have a meaningless love scene with a straight couple that does not have a real connection (Newt and Anathema), but couldn't have a meaningful love scene with a gay couple that does have a devastatingly profound and powerful connection.

So yes, those are my thoughts on the angels and demons in Good Omens being non-sexual, and what that means in a larger cultural/societal sense. I know that when GO season 2 comes out in a week, I could be proven completely wrong about everything I've just said, and I will have no problem with that at all. I fully trust what Michael and David will bring to the roles of Aziraphale and Crowley, but my hesitation stems from the limitations they will potentially be up against, in terms of the script/storyline (and is something I have felt from the interviews we've seen with them this past week).

I'm hopeful for the best, though (as always), so we'll just have to see what happens...

#anonymous #reply post #good omens 2 #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #creators are not perfect #I think Neil may have some internalized homophobia he is still dealing with tbh #but people are afraid to call him out in any way #and this was me trying to keep my response short #probably going to have to turn off anons for a bit while i answer the rest #dealing with RL stuff at the moment so a bit backed up #discourse

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thesherrinfordfacility · 8 months

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sideburn theory strikes again

idk if its just that i have been fully driven around the bend by this show or is this is Big Brain special, but if all fails this is the lore of a crossover you might not have known you wanted.

so i posted way back in the bygone era of pre-s2 that i felt that there was something potentially behind the different sideburn lengths in the trailer and first promos, and my darling @theeminentlyimpractical added into this, plus the added spot of crowley's sunglasses changing. now this appears to have been debunked by further s2 content (and indeed s2 in its entirety), because there didn't appear to be rhyme nor reason to the sideburns, but there was to the sunglasses. so we kinda left it alone (although people keep rb'ing the original theory, frankly god knows why).

now we kinda came up with some explanation for this, which ive summarised in this ask earlier, but then. then. we saw this brilliant observation by @rebeccasteventaylor, and thought - well, fuck it, let's take another look.

note: reference screenshots of nearly every crowley scene, per episode, at end of post.

so main observations so far:

crowley seems to exclusively wear the silver sunglasses in ep1 and ep2

then switches to the new grey sunglasses from ep3 onwards

he has a mix of long and short sideburns ep1 to ep4, and switches sideburn lengths in those eps between scenes

then seems to exclusively have long sideburns in the 'second half'* ep5, and in ep6.

then i have the following thoughts from both seasons:

we know that crowley is a singular demon in that he has an imagination

we know that he is pretty powerful, including the ability to stop and hold time

there are indeed plenty of doctor who references which - absolutely, may be an innocent homage to david tennant - but seem so pointed in s2 that it's almost unnerving

two quotes! first: "if any harm comes to aziraphale because of this, i will... oh, it doesn't matter, it's too late for that now, isn't it?... its always too late."

second: "i know... looking at/working out where the furniture isn't..."

the crow road by Iain Banks is introduced at the very end of s2, being read by muriel, and has very prominent features on screen when metatron asks them about it. crow road plot involves the main character piecing together notes/sketches left by their late uncle. (by the by, very purposeful feature in s2 that aziraphale keeps multiple diaries, and can sketch real good - including specifically a picture of gabriel)

now, before i start parsing out the theory (though tbh, by this point, i imagine you can see where im going with this), i will add that as i said in the above linked ask, im fully on board with the sideburn thing being bc of AP/confines of filming in COVID, and so it may just be a detail that had to slide or was missed. but that isn't as fun as putting on the tinfoil hat.

the main thing for me is that the long sideburns seem to consistently appear on screen after aziraphale and crowley talk in justine's restaurant in ep5*. once crowley goes over to the bookshop to confront gabriel, the long sideburns seem to remain. this is also where crowley appears to be at his angriest which, tbh, is kind of at odds with how he seemed to speak about and treat gabriel in ep3 and ep4.

let's start with ep3 (ill come back to ep1 and ep2*). in the vavoom scene, crowley almost seems quite chummy towards gabriel, perhaps slightly condescending, but warmer than he is after shax arrives. now, shax turning up to remind crowley of the stakes involved (ie threat to aziraphale) is completely trackable against how crowley then speaks to gabriel afterwards. but it is this quote that has baffled me slightly:

"if any harm comes to aziraphale because of this, i will... oh, it doesn't matter, it's too late for that now... its always too late."

and the reason it baffles me is because... well, i don't really get what crowley is talking about? he's rescued aziraphale on plenty of occasions, and seems to always be in the nick of time (or stopping it, if you consider 1793), and aziraphale has previously rescued crowley back with impeccable timing.

aziraphale hasn't actually come to much harm in any of the story we've seen so far; the only time crowley wasn't on time was with the bookshop fire, and whilst that was resolved, it would match up with what crowley's saying about being too late... but 'always too late'? ie, more than once? seems like there's been a pattern where crowley is too late.

the other thought i had on this is that crowley says "too late" in reference to saving morag in the same episode (but in the resurrectionist minisode within) but that was on aziraphale himself for dithering - why would crowley talk about it? so it seems to me that there are other instances where crowley himself has been too late to save aziraphale. the only time i really think this happens, where aziraphale ends up in danger, is the Domestic at the end of ep6 when crowley is too late to tell aziraphale how he feels - which probably would have influenced his decision to stay and not walk willingly into the clutches of the metatron... but in the s2 narrative, that hasn't happened yet.

furthermore, @theeminentlyimpractical brought up this little detail up from the book:

which doesn't necessarily mean anything in this theory's context, that crowley has one of his watch's clocks programmed to hell's timezone, but appears to be a detail specifically related to crowley nonetheless; futile fight, helplessness, the concept of always being Too Late.

the last thing however to mention about ep3 is that there appears to be a very clear before and after where the sideburns are concerned. where muriel turns up, and crowley and aziraphale talk in the back-back room, crowley is sporting shorter sideburns. but after aziraphale leaves, crowley comes down from upstairs carrying books, and has longer sideburns. i don't necessarily have any explanation for this, but do observe that it seems quite deliberate for the episode that he has the longer ones once aziraphale leaves, and continuing into ep4 when aziraphale comes back from edinburgh.

ep5 however, crowley arrives on whickber street, and is back with ye old short sideburns again. the only time this changes in the beginning half(ish)* is when he and aziraphale visit Arnold's. once again, don't really have any theoretical explanation for this, but one thing i will say is that when crowley and aziraphale approach the archway/alley that goes to Arnold's (just after "can i watch?"), they're in step with each other... but when aziraphale gets to the window, he's alone for a good few seconds and crowley doesn't appear - he might be out of shot, but then does appear just as aziraphale enters the shop... just an odd amount of time to have not followed aziraphale to the window.

in any case, crowley then follows around, gets waylaid and epiphany-slapped by nina, gets somewhat pissed in justine's, and then heads over to the bookshop. where he next appears upstairs, and suddenly sporting long sideburns again. it then seems somewhat pointed that this is where he really lays in to gabriel - now, contributory factors here are he's just been hit with the realisation that he loves aziraphale and aziraphale loves him, and he's probably about five sheets to the wind.

but it's particularly venomous and angry which - yeah, tracks - but i wonder if this is in response to something more? that crowley has more to be angry at gabriel over, more to be resentful of, than just that gabriel's presence in the bookshop could bring harm to aziraphale, and gabriel's involvement in the botched execution?

add to this, the line that we're all losing our heads over?

"i know... looking at/working out where the furniture isn't..." (subtitles conflict on amazon re: the first bit vs what im personally hearing, but neil has confirmed it's at least 'where the furniture isn't.')

now this all relates in the conversation back to gabriel's analogy of his missing memory feeling like a house with missing furniture, and trying to work out what in fact is missing. many have speculated that crowley might have gone through the same predicament of forcibly losing his memory (and s2 certainly does set it up like that), but i do wonder if it in fact twists that crowley is actually investigating the missing furniture, piecing together his own clues?

his tone being resigned and bitchy, even mocking, could well just be him laying on gabriel again, or indeed he could be empathising because he too has lost his memories, or because he's in the same boat and trying to piece things together... just, not in the same way?

so let's come back to what im actually getting at here; does crowley expand on his time-stopping powers, and does he essentially step back into his own timeline? and has to piece it together à la crow road?

was there an alternative timeline that still resulted in aziraphale going to heaven, but under different circumstances, and crowley comes back to change it to no avail, and that's where we leave s2? or, in this aborted (?) timeline, does aziraphale get got by hell, or gets taken out of the BOL (and falls?), crowley is trying to work out how/why, tracks it back through to the events we see in s2, ends up helping to hide gabriel (eg. he comes back after the So Did I argument), but then that leads down the path of losing aziraphale to heaven anyway, just in a different way? "it's always too late"?

now, don't let it be said that i won't poke holes in my own theory, because this is absolutely crazy and relatively baseless... and is so easily explained as just being One Of Those Filming Things (i simply felt it was slightly remiss to not mention these thoughts floating in my noggin).

the main issue of course is that *ep1 and ep2 are literally a mess where this theory is concerned. there are some short/long sideburn differences that can't be explained away, because the scenes literally follow in succession to each other - eg. ep1 goes from leaving the coffee shop (short), to the gabriel reveal (long), to So Did I (short again). another eg. ep2 goes from leaving the pub (long), to the walk across the road (short), to the job segue (long again). i could try to explain this with "oh crowley stopped time and switched", but that would probably be a bit of a cop out, however possible it might technically be within the narrative.

i don't even really know where to leave this off, but im still just of the mind that for a show where attention to detail is Everything (take the neil ask about the records, for example; he immediately spotted that the holes weren't right for jukebox compatibility, but they had to accept it as a good regardless), this feels like a pretty Big Goof?

alternatively yes, it might be AP whereupon david was going into another job fairly shortly after reshoot work was needed, or there were COVID related filming issues, but a) seems like a lot of reshoot work/pickups, and b) couldnt they have just trimmed the 'burns/be able to fake the length? idk but my brain is scrambled and im so confused.

screenshots!

S/L (red) - short/long sideburns, S/G (grey) - silver/grey sunglasses

episode one:

episode two:

episode three:

episode four:

episode five:

episode six:

#good omens #tinfoil hat theory based on sideburn length suggest time travel may be involved??? sonofabitch im in #laure here u go this is dedicated to you #ah shit laure i forgot to look at the medal that might need to be your serve im afraid #batshit time travel spec

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starseneyes · 8 months

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Ineffable Husbands / Aziracrow / Crowley x Aziraphale - Good Omens - A Thought

Y'all, I am super late to this fandom. But, I devoured both seasons like Aziraphale with a plate of ribs and then went back for seconds, and thirds.

Up until now, WayHaught has been my favorite queer ship, but these two adorable beings have slithered their way into my heart and flown into my mind.

I'm not planning to Meta these (I'm still behind on the Spapel finale, the Chenford REWINDS, and never even got to start Nace). But, I do have a thought that I can't get outta my head.

SPOILER ALERT: There's no removing this once it's in your system. I will be talking about both seasons. So, if you're still unspoiled (as I was until very recently), and want to stay that way, proceed no further.

Again, this isn't a full Meta. Just my own weird contribution to the conversation based on uneducated observation and fanatical attention to detail. I might be way off in my interpretation, but I haven't seen this thought discussed elsewhere, so I thought it should be said.

Ready? Let's dive in.

Aziraphale Feels Love

We establish early in Season 1 that Aziraphale is able to feel love. We don't know if all angels share this ability from the show (maybe the book-readers can tell in the comments), but we know he can.

He feels it when they go to the former Nunnery. He feels it when they're driving right before they run into Anathema. Aziraphale feels love.

And, yes, the book is in my TBR pile. I promised a friend to give them script notes, and I've told myself until I fulfill that promise, no other reading. So, soon enough I'll be caught up! But, in the meantime, I treasure the wisdom of those of you who've gone before.

I could wait to write this until later... but like Aziraphale after doing a good deed, I'm about to pop!

Anyway, we also see Aziraphale reveling in the ball and the pureness of the perception of the era. He loves a slow-moving romance spoken through kissing hands and whispered conversation. While Aziraphale has not experienced physical love, he's no stranger to the concept of love in its many facets.

Crowley/[Insert Angel Name Here] and Aziraphale have been doing a dance since before the Earth began. The first time they met, Aziraphale was immediately keen on him. And The-Angel-Futurely-Known-As-Crowley was happy to have someone to share in his moment of triumph.

If we look at the Bible, there's the idea of companionship—that humans were not meant to be alone. I would argue that the same could be said of our favorite eternal beings.

The-Angel-Futurely-Known-As-Crowley was trying to crank all this up by himself. It's not that he wasn't capable. He could've held the plans between his feet, or something. But, an angel happened by who was willing to stop and help—a pure heart eager to lend a hand.

That's where it started for them. And I argue that at the Eastern Wall, Crowley wasn't sure how he'd be received by Aziraphale... but he had to try. And being the angel he is, Aziraphale chose kindness toward the fallen angel.

By the time we reach 1941 (which sounds like a very critical year for these two), they've been through a lot. They've formed "our side" and Crowley's loneliness got a little more bearable while the weight of Aziraphale's conscious increased.

They've traded temptations and blessings, flipped coins, shared meals, supped and sipped. But in their last documented interaction before 1941—in 1862—they had a fight.

Crowley asked for Holy Water. For insurance. And Aziraphale's poor word choice led to their first real breakup (that we've seen.. 1650 and 1793 had the "I Was Wrong" dance, so they might've broken up, then, too, for all we know).

"Look, I've been thinking, what if it all goes wrong? We have a lot in common, you and me."

They're still not putting a label on it. These cutie-pies have been doing this for 6,000ish years and they still don't know what to call it.

Now, to be fair, they're doing this in secret knowing that if either side finds out they'll be destroyed. So, can't really blame 'em for not knowing what to call it.

"I don't know. We might have both started off as angels, but you are fallen."

Gee wiz, Aziraphale! I get that you have to ground yourself in your deeply instilled rote morality, but way to alienate the love of your life, dude!

"I need a favor." "We already have the Agreement, Crowley..."

Before, Aziraphale didn't want to put a label on that, either. Now, we saw back with Shakespeare that Crowley's the one who came up with that label.

But labeling aspects of their relationship is easy for Crowley. Labeling them is another thing entirely. And it's the last thing on Crowley's mind—this time he's actively asking for something outside the norm.

This is a new layer to their trust in one another. Crowley is asking Aziraphale to take a huge risk, and Aziraphale is mis-reading the situation.

"Out of the question." "Why not?" "It would destroy you. I'm not bringing you a suicide pill, Crowley." "That's not what I want it for."

They're talking past one another. Yes, I know this is classic them. But before the bickering can get much further, Aziraphale drops this on him:

"I'm not an idiot, Crowley. Do you know what trouble I'd be in if... if they knew I'd been fraternising?" ... "Fraternising?"

"Fraternising" applies to brotherhood and friendship. To this point, the only one we've seen call them "friends" was an outsider at the Theater. Neither of them has yet adopted the moniker "friend" when addressing the other or speaking conversationally about the other.

And, yes, we're going with the English spelling on this one. No, the characters aren't actually English. But they've both chosen English accents for their existence, so we're gonna roll with it.

"I have lots of other people to fraternise with, Angel." "Of course you do." "I don't need you." "And the feeling is mutual, obviously."

Of course these two idiots need each other. They're utterly alone in the world without one another—both aligned with a side... as far as they can go... but also with each other.

But Crowley is lashing out. Because he's not ready to put a label on this, and he has to keep himself distanced from Aziraphale and anyone associated with his former bosses.

And Aziraphale's fighting to maintain his very black-and-white view of good and evil, here, so as soon as Crowley seems ready to walk away, so is he. Though, we all know deep down neither of them truly want that.

In a fit of anger, Aziraphale flings the paper at the water. And, in an appropriate measure of response, the scrap obeys the laws of physics and flits down to the water rather than sinking into it like a thrown stone.

That's how we leave them (so far as we know)... at odds and decoupled in 1862.

Then comes 1941. The blissfully gullible angel has tried to do right and found himself in the snares of a trap. Bless his heart. (Yes, I'm a Southern Yank—which sounds contradictory, but I briefly studied at Leicester, so I know what my Uni mates'd call me)

"What are you doing here?"

The last interaction of which we're aware prior to this is the one where Crowley dramatically announced he didn't need Aziraphale, and our angel boy responded in kind.

So, while there have been many scrapes before where Crowley played hero to Aziraphale's damsel-in-distress, our angel wasn't awaiting rescue this time. He's genuinely surprised to see Crowley there.

But Crowley has had time in the in-between to consider their friendship and what it would mean to him if Aziraphale were to be discorporated, and if that would lead to him losing his place on Earth. Crowley can't have that.

Aziraphale assumes Crowley's there with the baddies. But, no, he's there for his angel.

"I just didn't want to see you embarrassed."

Watch Aziraphale soak that in. He turns his head to the left, away from Crowley, as he often does when confused or struck by something his sweet demon has said.

"Anthony?" "You don't like it?" "No, no. I didn't say that. I'll get used to it." ... "What does the J stand for?" "It's just a J, really."

Without so much as an apology from either one, they've fallen into a familiar rhythm. And, yes, apologies are very important, and these two need to get the hang of them, someday. But we can clearly see why they've survived so long without them.

When you're about the be discorporated at any moment, time for apologies is short.

"And if, in thirty seconds, a bomb does land here, it would take a real miracle for my friend and I to survive it." "A real miracle."

Of course, we're all focusing on the fact that Crowley is saying, "I did the bomb, you're doing the saving". But there's also a key word in there... friend.

Not so long ago (in their time, anyway), Crowley was incensed at the use of the word "fraternising", yet here he is calling this angel his friend.

I think in the time apart, Crowley realized just how important Aziraphale is to him. He really doesn't get along with the other demons on a social level, and he's failed to make any lasting human attachments. In all the universe, there's one being he can count on—his angel.

So, while we all know "friend" barely begins to cover it with these two, Crowley is finally ready for that label. Friends.

"That was very kind of you." "Shut up."

There's Aziraphale trying to thank Crowley without thanking him, once again pointing out what he sees as angelic traces in the demon before him.

And there's Crowley rejecting those same traces with all his being because he's embraced his exile internally and can't sever from that headspace anymore than Aziraphale from his desire for Heaven's affirmation and acceptance.

"Oh, the book! Oh, I forgot all the books."

Because in this moment of importance, he's going to prioritize Crowley. He put everything he had into keeping them from being discorporated.

But Crowley's wearing a smirk with flare. While the angel flails, Crowley strides confidently to the waiting bag of books.

"Oh, they'll all be blown to…"

His words trail off as he sees Crowley's right hand holding the precious bag. The music shifts as soon as Aziraphale makes the realization—Crowley saved the books.

"Little demonic miracle of my own. Lift home?"

Their fingers barely overlap as they exchange the bag, Crowley looking to not make a big deal of this. But it is a big deal.

Much as Gabriel was smitten with Beelzebub for a gift, Aziraphale is swayed by Crowley's first true act of love towards him this side of Heaven.

Yes, Crowley has saved Aziraphale multiple times. They've crossed paths over and over. But something's different. This time, Crowley called them friends. This time, there was something extra.

And while I know we were all taken in by Aziraphale looking at Crowley like he'd hung the moon and stars in the sky... which he technically did... there's a little sigh there that makes me wonder—was this the moment Aziraphale felt love from Crowley for the first time?

Remember, Aziraphale feels love. And we can tell he's enamored with Crowley long before this moment. Remember how his eyes lit up to hear his love's voice when he was locked in the Bastille? Remember the heart eyes he gave Crowley in hopes that the demon would work a miracle for Hamlet?

Yes, I believe Aziraphale feels his own affection for Crowley growing... but in part because he feels Crowley's love for him.

Now, there are many types of love. It doesn't have to necessarily be romantic (though we all know it is). But it plays into Aziraphale's prevailing theory that the demon is at least a little good and capable of good things—including love.

I think it's easy to pass off waves of love from around you as something else when you're not touching the person who loves you. Because they did touch as they traded that precious bag of books.

And that was an act of love. Beyond saving lives, Crowley protected something material that held meaning for Aziraphale. We all know Crowley's repeatedly stated that he doesn't read books. He doesn't adore them as Aziraphale does—but that doesn't matter.

Crowley saved the books because no matter what they meant to him—nothing—he knew they meant the world to the one who means the world to him.

It was an act of love. And I fully believe Aziraphale felt it.

Slipping into Season 2 with that same night, we can see that Aziraphale's still reveling in that feeling in the car with Crowley as they race through the embattled streets of London during the Blitz.

I paused it at a particularly adoring look from Aziraphale to Crowley. I mean, he's basking in his love.

"You know, that was a very nice thing you did for me." "Shut up." "There must be something I can do for you in return?" "Forget it, will you?"

Crowley's not ready to talk about it. He's never ready to talk about it... not until it's too late. And it's always too late, right?

But Aziraphale is fully enamored and looking for a way to reciprocate. This goes outside their usual Arrangement, and you can tell he's filled with feelings and wants to channel them into an act of love for Crowley.

And Crowley's brushing it off. Because it's easier for him to act than it is for him to talk. If you label it or try to define it, he's going to jump ship. But if you let it be, he's happy to ride the wave of... whatever this is.

Rather than wait in the car, Aziraphale follows Crowley inside. They're both savoring the time together, this time. It's somehow different, and I love that.

"Um, I wonder if I might be able to help you on behalf of my... uh, good friend here."

And, there it is. Aziraphale sees a way to live one of his greatest fantasies and help out Crowley. He has nothing to give him, but this'll do the trick, eh?

Also, look at him adopting "friend" as quickly as Crowley was willing to claim it. While Crowley is the one pushing them forward in many ways, he holds them back in others. This was a case where Aziraphale was a little faster to move forward emotionally than Crowley.

And this is the first night they've spent together in some time, if what we know of canon holds true.

Why am I going into all this!? Because, 1941 feels like one of the bigger turning points of their relationship. Of course, Job was, too. But I spent so much time watching that final confrontational scene of Season 2 Episode 6 only to keep returning to 1941 in my head.

I saw folks positing that Crowley's confession was the first time Aziraphale felt his beloved's love... but I argue he's felt it in waves throughout the centuries and been able to dismiss it as coming from somewhere else.

When their fingers touched in 1941 as Crowley gave Aziraphale a most-treasured gift—his books' survival—it was undeniable. Aziraphale felt Crowley's love.

And he spends the rest of this night trying to return Crowley's affection.

"Cheers for getting me off the hook." "Oh, there's no need to thank me. That's what... friends... are for."

He's still testing it out. The last time he used a word even close to that, Crowley had walked out of his life for half a century. But this time Crowley isn't correcting him, and Aziraphale loves that.

"You're going to need a 100% reliable marksman. Someone you can really trust." ... "Oh, I've got the perfect man for the job. At least, I think I have."

There's no question in Aziraphale's mind that he trusts Crowley enough to aim a bloody firearm at his face, pull the trigger, and that he'll be just fine afterwards.

And Crowley knows he's never fired a gun, but he also knows that if he doesn't say yes to this, his angel's gonna try to find someone else who will—and he can't have that.

He knows he'll miracle it away if something goes wrong. Crowley has to be the one to keep his angel out of harm's way.

"Haven't you fired a gun before?" "Not as such."

You. Two. Idiots. Seriously gotta work on your communication skills. but watch how Crowley's trigger finger actually shakes as he feels the weight of Aziraphale's trust in him.

That's love. That absolute trust. And while Crowley doesn't fully understand what's going on between them, he knows he can't betray that trust. He can't let anything happen to Aziraphale, and he's going to find a way to protect him.

Afterwards, backstage they're sharing the evening like a pair of old lovers celebrating a win. Crowley's lounging on the chaise longue. A triumphant Aziraphale winds a feathered boa around his neck. They're reveling in this moment, and it's the most relaxed we've seen them together to this point.

They could have gone separate ways as soon as the trick was achieved, but Crowley chooses to stay with Aziraphale. He's spent the last 50 years without him, realizing just how much this angel means to him, so he lingers.

Afterwards, they're back in the bookshop sharing wine on what Crowley believes may be his last night on Earth. He chose to spend it with the person he most wanted to be near.

And, yes, Aziraphale knows that he switched out the photo, but Crowley doesn't. For all his anger at their last meeting about "fraternising", it's all he seems to want to do, now.

Aziraphale notes that Crowley's glass is empty and fills it—a small act of love... but it's there. Feeling enamored and inspired, he tests the waters of discussion.

"I, uh, I knew you would come through for me. You always do."

Crowley tosses it off, but doesn't completely ignore the subject, for once.

"Well, you said, 'trust me'." "And you did."

He almost whispers it, like the three little words a lover whispers affectionately to their dear one. It's trust.

For an angel to be able to trust a demon... for a demon to be able to trust an angel... that right there is so far outside the bounds of what they both have been told is supposed to be.

But in one another they found one being in existence that they know will trust them wholeheartedly, and whom they can trust in return.

"You could've walked away. If you were truly as evil as you like to paint yourself, you would've done." "Nah, that's the trouble with you lot. You tend to see things in black and white. Sometimes, you've just gotta blur the edges."

And, let's be honest, his lot tend to see things the same way. Crowley is unique in that he truly wishes to understand. It's not that he wanted to thwart the will of God. He wanted to understand what was happening, to question it, to delve deeper than unanswered, unwavering dedication to a "Great Plan" that didn't make sense.

In Aziraphale, he's found someone as close to his morality as he'll ever discover (someone who goes as far as he can, but ultimately has a separate moral code). But Aziraphale lacks Crowley's distance from Heaven, and thus lacks his perspective. That'll eventually catch up to them.

But, tonight, they're both savoring the seconds of shared security. In the safety of the bookshop, they toast to, well, them.

"Well maybe there is something to be said for... shades of grey."

Aziraphale holds out his glass to Crowley, inviting the agreement. And, of course, Crowley will drink to that. Because that's where their love lies. In the black and white, it wouldn't be possible.

But because these two beings are able to think in the grey, to live in the grey, to love in the grey... they have a snowball's chance in hell of making it. Because something majorly shifts between them in 1941.

Yes, they've been doing this love dance since the beginning. But I think in feeling Crowley's love, Aziraphale is that tiny bit more emboldened.

Yet even after all that... Aziraphale hasn't quite reciprocated Crowley's act of love. Yes, he got him out of a bind with the delivery, but we can argue that Crowley had to rescue him right back with the bullet drama.

Enter 1967. We can assume that these two saw each other again in 1941 based on the fact that the "I was wrong, you were right" dance was in-play and we didn't see it. But we don't know what else might've transpired before 1967.

All we know is that Crowley's planning a "caper" to get the one thing he thinks he needs for insurance... the one thing Aziraphale outright denied him when he asked as a favour.

Crowley slides into his Bentley as the familiar swish of Aziraphale's miracle magic fills the air. The demon's tail lands in his seat just as the angel appears.

"What are you doing here?"

He's echoing Aziraphale's words from 1941. This isn't one of their planned clandestine meetings, and Aziraphale clearly doesn't want to risk the tiniest chance at an audience overhearing or witnessing this exchange.

Where the bookshop is the angel's sanctuary, this Bentley is Crowley's. And they're about to have a very secret exchange.

"I needed a word with you." "What?" "I work in SoHo. I hear things. I hear you're setting up a... caper to rob a church."

In a very Aziraphale coded move, Crowley looks away from the angel at the mention of an uncomfortable topic.

"Crowley, it's too dangerous. Holy Water won't just kill your body. It will destroy you completely." "You told me what you think 105 years ago." "And I haven't changed my mind, but I can't have you risking your life."

Here's the thing, as much as Crowley felt fiercely protective of Aziraphale in 1941, that's how much more Aziraphale feels now. That level of trust and love builds and builds.

Because what Aziraphale is saying to Crowley right now is—I can't lose you. Even though I hate this. Even though I don't want this for you, if it means I get to protect you, I'll do whatever it takes. Because I need you.

Which is why Aziraphale gives Crowley the Holy Water without understanding why he wants it. It's a gift without strings, without conditions, without preamble. Because Aziraphale knows if he's the one to do it... Crowley will at least be safe for now.

Just as Crowley agreed to do the shooting trick... for the exact same reason.

And while Crowley doesn't feel love in the air the way Aziraphale does, he does feel it from his angel. He understand the risks that Aziraphale took for him. And it means even more that his angel took these risks without understanding the reason... simply because this angel trusts this demon.

Crowley's lips part as he accepts the gift, and the two are very careful not to let their fingers touch, this time. Perhaps Aziraphale already feels quite exposed and doesn't want to risk the rush of another wave of love.

"Should I say thank you?" "Better not."

Aziraphale can't even look at Crowley. He's terrified he's just given the love of his life a suicide pill, but also so thankful to know he's safe, for now.

"Well, can I drop you anywhere?" "No, thank you. Oh, don't look so disappointed. Perhaps one day we could, I don't know... go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz."

And this scene really shows me that Aziraphale is not oblivious to what's going on here and how he feels. But, he's placing very clear boundaries on where he hopes they can someday reach... sharing meals together in public.

Because I tend to agree with those who say that celestial beings love differently. We saw with Gabriel and Beelzebub that there was almost nothing physical to their affection. Their connection was enough for them. Without labels. Without definitions. Just... love.

But I think Aziraphale and Crowley are different, still, from the other celestial beings... partially because of their long time spent on Earth.

They like to eat and drink. They both like to listen to Earth music (though on different ends of the spectrum). Crowley canonically likes to go to the movies. Aziraphale soaks up books like sunshine, and loves learning new "human" things the human way.

These two can love in a purely celestial way. But, I argue they both have formed ideas of love that are a little different from their peers. They experience so much of existence in the human manner that it's impossible for their perspective of love to not be thus colored.

And right now, Crowley is feeling the impact of Aziraphale's love, much as the angel felt his in 1941.

"I'll give you a lift anywhere you wanna go."

Crowley is willing to let Aziraphale set the destination, here. And he'll go. Anywhere. Anywhere with him.

But Aziraphale's not quite ready for it. He knows he doesn't want to lose Crowley, but he doesn't yet know how to move past his angelic programming to fully embrace what they can be to one another.

"You go too fast for me, Crowley."

My. Heart. Stopped. The first time I heard this sentence come out of Aziraphale's mouth, I had to immediately rewind and rewatch. Because the hardest part for these two is always going to be the boundaries they put up in their own minds.

They've spent a long, long time on "opposite sides" while sharing an existence built on half-truths and trauma. They're both traumatized and both struggling through it. It's a miracle (heh) that in all this they've found one another at all.

And when it all comes crashing down in that truly devastating confession/kiss at the end of Season 2... Oh, they're both breaking apart because that trust that has been the foundation of everything for so long finally feels broken.

Crowley admits what they are. Out loud. No more, "Shut up" or "Forget about it". He opens himself up in a way he never imagined to the one being he could always trust.

And David Tennant takes us on the ride of our lives. Look, I'm a long-time fan of Tennant, starting with when he took over the role of The Doctor. But, golly, he destroyed us all with this confession.

Crowley removes his glasses before his beloved at the start of the conversation. And once he realizes how lost Aziraphale is to the system, he could have given up and left. Instead, he gathers his courage to speak his truth.

They're a team. A group of two. And he wants to spend... every second with him. Just being... them.

And they can't really run away from it all. It'll find them, eventually. But they also can't go rushing into the lion's den wide-eyed and unprepared.

But neither's truly hearing the other right now.

Aziraphale wants to bring Crowley with him to change things from the inside. Crowley sees there's no changing anything, and wants to spend whatever time he has left loving Aziraphale.

And. He. Falls.

Aziraphale isn't there to catch him. Because our poor sweet angel has drank the Heavenly kool-aid and earnestly believes he can make Heaven better for his beloved fallen angel.

They're both so bitterly lost.

Crowley covers his eyes and stalks away, muttering "good luck" to his thoroughly confused angel. They're both confused, really.

Because they both want to ultimately be together, but they're talking past one another. The mixed messages that once shielded them through suspicion and scrutiny have sealed their undoing. At least, for now.

In a last-ditch effort to get through to Aziraphale, Crowley takes a truly human approach with "one fabulous kiss". But it's not loving or tender. It's hurt. It's angry. It's as broken as they are.

Crowley takes one step, two steps, hands land on Aziraphale on step three before he gather's the angel's lapel in his hands and tugs him in. The choreography probably had to be perfect for poor David Tennant to make his mark through the glasses and contacts.

As their lips connect, Aziraphale's eyes widen in confusion. But it doesn't taken long for them to close, and as he relaxes into the kiss, his brow furrows as he presses himself into Crowley, wrapping his arms briefly around him.

When the perspective shifts and we're looking at the kiss from Crowley's back, Aziraphale's hand slides down Crowley's shoulder blades, where his angelic/demonic wings rest, hidden from human eyes. The angel's answering Crowley, now.

But fear kicks in, and the angel starts to flail. He's terrified. He's terrified of what he feels. Of what he wants. Of what this means. And he's heartbroken that Crowley would do this now when he's already refused Aziraphale's offer.

But the angel never. breaks. away.

He doesn't shove Crowley off. He waits until Crowley releases him to step back, and once he does he's overcome with emotions. There are too many feelings, too many thoughts, too many possibilities.

And Michael Sheen takes us through all the heartache, the pain, the longing, the hurt, the love, the devastation... Oh, he gives us every emotion and then some.

His, "I forgive you" cuts in jagged edges along our souls, like a papercut shreds skin, but on a cosmic level. And it shatters Crowley, similarly.

They part ways... broken.

Aziraphale is gutted to watch him go. More than any other time, this one feels final. In his confusion and pain, Aziraphale's trembling fingers find their way to his mouth, the taste of Crowley still fresh on his lips.

He presses his fingers against his mouth, trying to figure out where that sensation came from, but all he can recreate is a dim memory of the feelings crashing through him when Crowley's lips met his.

But the one thing that gives me hope is how Aziraphale keeps looking out that window. He can feel Crowley there. He can feel Crowley's love.

I've often wondered how they constantly find one another. Can Crowley feel where Aziraphale is and makes sure to be close in case of calamity, claiming that he's in town for a temptation? Does Aziraphale feel where Crowley may be and maneuvers himself as close as possible while feigning nearby blessings?

Because in the wake of their heartbreak, it's clear that he knows exactly where Crowley is.

He steps back to look out that window because he know that's where Crowley will be. He knows that Crowley hasn't peeled out of there in his Bentley. He knows he's waiting for him.

He feels Crowley's love. And when the Metatron confirms Crowley's words by mentioning the Second Coming, the way that Aziraphale looks back that last time feels charged.

I feel like Aziraphale wanted to run back right then exclaiming, "You were right. I was wrong!" But he can't. I mean, the Metatron is standing right there and expects him to come up and run this thing. If Aziraphale backs out now, who will be in position to stop this thing once and for all?

And maybe, maybe Aziraphale can protect the being he loves most by being in the room where it happens. Maybe that's the key, right?

But this is all projection. I'm more clueless than most of you because I've yet to read the book (yes, I will prioritize it after I finish these script notes!).

These are just my uninformed thoughts! But, I really do think that Aziraphale feels Crowley's love. And I think he's felt it for a very long time, at least since 1941. And I really can't wait until we get our Season 3 renewal notice.

Will I ever write full Metas on this ship? Gee, I don't know. We shall see, I suppose (which is only marginally less annoying than "wait and see").

Be good to one another. Spread love. Choose kindness. Give yourself grace. And don't forget to breathe.

#Good Omens #Good Omens Season 2 #Good Omens Spoilers #Aziraphale #Crowley #Aziracrow #Ineffable Husbands #Aziraphale x Crowley #Crowley x Aziraphale #Neil Gaiman #Michael Sheen #David Tennant #Terry Pratchett

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roxannepolice · 9 months

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A little bit of GOS2 criticism crossed my dash, mostly of the not like the book variety (not plot-wise, obviously, only in the sense that it went away from the spirit of the book). Leaving aside the fact as a Stanley Kubrick* fan I don't find this a compelling argument at all, I'm really not raging against the fact that there are people who dislike the things I like, not even blocking anyone, that's for politics, filtering serves just perfectly. But I think I see a pattern in the criticisms original/classic material fans levy against adaptations/continuations in Good Omens (that sometimes includes the first season too), Doctor Who and Sherlock Holmes fandoms. If you bite your way through the overgrow of whatever social policy is on the menu it boils down to overfocusing on characters, and in the case of GO overfocusing on characters that aren't even strictly protagonists. And if you've followed me for a while you may have noticed that this sometimes annoys me, too. Sometimes I dress it in fancy wording of precession of simulacrae, sometimes I just bitch about TTC. So I started thinking about why it doesn't bother me, and in fact is a thing that fills me with insane feuertrunkenness** when done right - by which I mostly mean 2nd season of Sherlock, RTD/early Moffat era of Doctor Who, and the 2nd season of Good Omens. So, obviously, I started thinking of Francisco de Goya y Lucientes.

Say hello to my icon and one of most favourite works of visual arts. The simple truth about Goya is that he was an absolute genius in realistic painting. He was flexing away his way across the Spanish court with his compositions, and fabrics, and wrinkles, and light work. He was straight up academically and technically brilliant. He was a product of the European fashion of the time. And yet he could also, especially as his own health and political situation in the country deteriorated, he could also do so. much. drama. So much vision, so much phantasmagoric nightmares. So much introspection. Without even for a moment falling down the chute of sentimentalist navel gazing that the romantic era so often went down.

I don't really like periodization, good art is good art, but paradigmatic shifts are definitely a thing. And there are those amazing artists who bring the older, more established, more as Jung would put it, externalized paradigm to perfection and push it further without losing the sight of it. This is Goya, this is Botticelli, this is Goethe, this is very late Mozart, this is Beethoven. Wagner is a great example because there's this definite moment around the Flying Dutchman and Lohengrin when he finds his style without overpompousing it. And this is an extremely difficult rope to walk! Falling down the rabbit hole of overthinking your own work, and especially overthinking pop cultural phenomena is way way wayyyy too easy for anyone to walk it. The temptation to overpower them is way too strong for mere mortals to resist it.

But it is possible. RTD showed it is possible to do so for over 50 hours of material. The point be that the drama, the sturm und drung and lebenschmertz and whatnot emerge naturally from the story, rather than fitting the story specifically to make it dramatic and navel gazy. It'll be a bit mean now, but it's the difference between the self made tragedy of the last of the time lords and a literal species ready to change reality to find out the Doctor's true name, which matters, but not, but does.

And I think Neilman did hit that sweet spot in the second season. Yes, people are complaining about Aziraphale and Crowley coming off as "too important", especially Crowley***, which is completely contrary to the book, but this remains elegantly within the realms of interpretation. It's introspective and dramatic without navel gazing and tragedy for tragedy's sake. And knowing his other works I feel fairly confident he won't be falling off that rope.

And I wouldn't be a McLuhanist if I didn't mention that television is a medium naturally more likely to focus on characters because of its episodic character (stories end, banter is forever) and the fact it was the first medium where characters were literally at people's homes.

* Don't inform me that he wasn't the nicest person but was a veritable nightmare to work with, I mean his FILMS.

** Sorry for the German vocab, but what can I say, they really made a point when they started splashing words together.

*** My three cents on pre-fall Crowley's archangelic status is that I still like the inversion and irony, but I liked it better when the theory was getting excommunicated as *checks notes* too classist, rather than sth you vagued Neilman about on Tumblr.

#tw: negativity #some i guess? more criticism but anyway #good omens #good omens season 2 #doctor who #bbc sherlock #cultural ramblings #do other cultures even have digressive poems? think sheherezade telling a story venturing into another story venturing into another story #neil gaiman #rtd #sorry just needed to vent #long post

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dietraumerei · 3 years

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Whumptober 2021: Do you trust me?

You can read this, and my other Whumptober stories, on AO3 here: Hurts So Good: A Whumptober 2021 Collection

Summary: Crowley isn't a very trusting demon; he's learned better in his life. Well, maybe he trusts one being.

They were pushed out of heaven. Most of them. Crowley just sort of sauntered out, not always sure where he was going but knowing it was better than staying.

Well.

Maybe he was pushed, too. In a way.

'Do you trust me?' Lucifer had said. He wasn't all big and with the horns and the so on and so forth back then. Looked less like a Balrog. Rather handsome, actually.

Angels were beautiful, after all. All of them. (That's what had attracted Crowley to Aziraphale at first. Obviously now he thought Aziraphale quite handsome, but at the time he was, well. Rumpled. The kind of angel where they didn't break the mould after he was done because there was no mould because he was so utterly unique and interesting and, well, not-beautiful, not in the way angels were.)

Do you trust me? And that was that. Angels pushed out of Heaven, a great War – Crowley avoided that too – and out, all of you cast out, and Crowley made it cool. He didn't actually trust Lucifer. Well, that wasn't true – at first, yes. Later, no, not at all. He didn't trust anyone for a long time, there didn't seem to be any point in it.

But he was pushed, and he made it look cool. Sauntered down to Hell, even though it was more like tumbling head over heels down a staircase, but he didn't let on that it hurt so much. That the sensation of falling down stairs, of ligaments torn and bones shattered, that was nothing to removal of God's grace, the removal of that love.

For a very long time, Crowley thought that, perhaps, he could no longer love.

“Do you trust me?”

No, Crowley did not. Not for a very long time; longer, even, than he thought he couldn't love anymore.

“My dearest! I've got the most wonderful idea!”

Crowley looked up from the Infernal Times – he liked to keep his finger on the pulse and all – and blinked, taking in Aziraphale in all his bustle. He'd just come in from a visit to the farmer's market, and practically exuded autumn.

Aziraphale made occasional attempts to move with the times, usually when fashion was happening to cycle back to some earlier era, the earlier the better of course. (Aziraphale and the New Romantics had been distressingly au couture, and Crowley always resented him slightly when he whipped out some original article of clothing and turned heads on the street.

Then again, a female-presenting Aziraphale in a genuine Greek chiton during the Regency had been really quite amazing, so there were some bonuses.)

Today his attempt was a shawl-collared cardigan, cream-coloured of course. Relatively a la mode, but ruined with his baggy 50's trousers. Then again, it made him look like what he was in his heart of hearts: an antiquated old scholar and absolute screaming queen.

“Oh?” he asked, craning his head to look in Aziraphale's twee wicker basket. Had he got apple-cider doughnuts? They were Crowley's favourite kind, after all, and he thought he spotted a box from that particular bakery's stand.

Aziraphale was in a Mood, though. Of course; he'd pretty much constantly been in a chipper mood since they'd taken this little cottage out here in the quiet countryside. Crowley had worried he'd grow bored – or, worse, that they'd grow sick of each other – but now that they were settled it seemed unlikely. He couldn't imagine being bored with a garden, and Aziraphale, and anyway London wasn't so far away if they needed good sushi, or a museum.

“It's ever so lovely – shall we go and have a picnic on the green? We can stop by that stall that sells those lovely empanadas, and of course we should get a bottle of perry. I'm so glad the Farmer's Market here is open so late, we can have the most scrumptious luncheon.”

Crowley smiled. “'course, angel. That sounds just the thing.”

Aziraphale grinned, his eyes literally twinkling, and he tapped the side of his nose, and Crowley seriously questioned his own taste. Aziraphale was ridiculous.

“Do you trust me?”

No.

Yes.

The last time this happened you had your soul ripped away.

He doesn't mean it, he's teasing.

He means it.

And you do.

“My dearest?”

Crowley shook himself and smiled. “Of course I trust you. Why d'you ask?”

Aziraphale gave a happy wiggle. “You'll see. It's a surprise.”

Crowley sighed. “Is it a book?”

“Not at all! Now, no twenty questions for you – let me put these things away and then I think we can take a lovely walk. It's so nice out, and you've hardly left the house today.”

“All right,” Crowley said nonchalantly. He loved a good ramble with Aziraphale, the angel complained endlessly and seemed to have infinite energy. (Well, technically they both did, but human bodies did get a bit tired.) But he wasn't going to let onto that. He'd been seen enough for one day.

(It was a lovely ramble, and a lovely lunch, and Crowley only regretted trusting Aziraphale because it ended in the botched performance of some new magic tricks, and that was never going to be a good time.

He trusted Aziraphale, though, and he reckoned, quietly and where no one could tell, deep in his heart – that was the important bit.)

#whumptober2021 #good omens

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suzukiblu · 3 years

Text

Fic Writer Meme

Tagged by my dear @dancinbutterfly, and like, obviously I will take any excuse to talk about writing.

1) how many works do you have on ao3?

168, although a few of those are podfics that the podficcer credited me as a co-author on. Actually less than I would’ve expected, tbh.

2) what is your total ao3 word count?

1,431,989. Honestly also kinda less than I would’ve expected at this point. I will blame all those old fics I never brought over from LJ and ff.net for this expectation.

3) how many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

I literally cannot tell you, the ancient ways have been lost to me. I can give you my Ao3 fandoms, though!

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Overwatch

The Witcher (Netflix)

Young Justice (Cartoon)

Animorphs

Star Wars

Good Omens

Venom

Fantastic Four

Leverage

League of Legends

Daredevil

Supernatural

Care Bears

World of Warcraft

Spider-Man

X-Men

Slender Man Mythos

Additionally, long ago: Naruto, Gundam Wing, Digimon, Ranma ½, Bleach, Inu-Yasha, and many scattered other fandoms of my youth. So, so many others. So I’ve written for 25+ fandoms, at least.

4) what are your top 5 fics by Kudos.

a mark, a mission, a brand, a scar (13004)

I once started out to walk around the world but ended up in Brooklyn (8450)

it’s a long way forward (so trust in me) (6965)

oh don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me (6818)

if the bad times are coming let ‘em come (5362)

5) do you respond to comments?

Not really these days, though I hoard and treasure them like a freaking DRAGON. I used to respond to all of them but sometimes I’m just not around and then it becomes awkwardly late to reply and also they kinda . . . pile up a bit. I do try to answer all the comments with questions in them, at least, as long as the questions aren’t literally spoilers or anything like that.

6) what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don’t usually write super-angsty endings, I think? I don’t FEEL like I usually write super-angsty endings, anyway, at least not these days. I think I did it more often when I was more into, like, drabbles and shortfic. Now I just spend way too long on stuff to give it a downer ending.

The most recent angsty ending I can think of is wanna hold him, maybe I’ll just sing about it, though eventually I did write a sequel to that to soften the blow a bit. And also torment people a bit. Both, technically. Technically both.

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

blondes really do have more fun, definitely. It’s very . . . giddy, I guess? What with the gender euphoria and all. There’s angst and heavy emotions in the actual plot but the highs of the happy parts/ending are probably the highest/happiest ones I’ve written, and Supergirl gets everything she wants without having to compromise or give up anything else.

8) do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I write fusion fic more than crossovers, really, but I have written a LOT of fusion fic. Some of it has been weirder than others, tbh, but probably the Avatar: The Last Airbender/Animorphs fusion that I have been lovingly slaving over deserves to be this answer if only for how much extremely sincere effort I have put into it over the years.

9) have you ever received hate on a fic?

Mild hate, but occasionally. I don’t really tend to remember negative comments, tbh, though it does sometimes make me not want to reread the comment section I know they’re in. But a lot of the hate I’ve gotten in the end just seemed like socially-awkward people being unnecessarily blunt instead of just hitting the back button, so I try not to take it personally. Can’t please everyone. Don’t WANT to please everyone, frankly.

10) Do you write smut? What kind?

Yes, and the kind is “a lot”. Sometimes I don’t really feel like it but definitely I have done a lot of it. I try for Feelings and also to be safe, sane, and consensual as much as I can.

11) have you ever had a fic stolen?

I . . . am not sure? Though probably, after being at this for all this time. Someone once told me that someone picked up a fic I’d (at the time) abandoned and just started writing/posting more of it without asking or telling me about it, but I never actually found said fic and I don’t know if that technically counts as “stealing” anyway.

12) have you ever had a fic translated?

A few times, yup, it’s pretty gratifying! I also like to run them back through Google Translate and see what they say, haha.

13) have you ever co-written a fic before?

yoooo @dancinbutterfly, @rainnecassidy! Also done it with a few other people long, LONG ago, but that was back in the LJ era. Don’t think I’ve technically collabed with anyone else lately, although sometimes people will give me ideas for stuff I’m writing or offer suggestions when I’m stuck on a thing, which is very helpful.

14) what’s your favourite ship?

Like . . . per fandom? ‘Cuz we could be here a while. Most recently it’s Jaskier/Geralt, for a while it was Aziraphale/Crowley, DEFINITELY for a while it was Steve/Bucky . . .

You know, I guess technically my all-time favorite ship is actually Naruto/Sasuke, because I made a LOT of friends in Naruto fandom and it actually hugely influenced the end of my teenage years and beginning of my adult life and so, SO much of my writing. So like, if nothing else it wins on influentialness.

15) what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Let ‘Em Come. @rainnecassidy and I wrote that AU a long-ass time ago now and I never did my half of the sequel fic because I got too distracted with another longfic I was working on at the time and then took a real long fandom break. I always felt kind of bad about it because people seemed to bother her for said sequel more than they bothered ME for it, since her fic was the last posted part. Unfortunately I just don’t have the spoons or the MCU-focus for the research and effort it’d take anymore. Also, like . . . it’d probably be pretty long, so unless I was REAL obsessive about it it’d take a good long while.

Basically I think its time has just passed at this point, alas.

16) what are your writing strengths?

Sex, action, snark, and weird fusion fics. Also making people love things they usually hate, that’s one I get told a lot.

17) what are your writing weaknesses?

Fitting physical descriptions of . . . literally ANYTHING into the story. Just, anything. Physical descriptions are hard.

18) what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

I try not to do it, personally, because I know soooooo very little about other languages. Sometimes I’ll sprinkle in a little bit of it, but usually I feel like it’s better to avoid it, personally.

19) what was the first fandom you wrote for?

I literally could not even tell you. The first fandom I REMEMBER writing proper “fic” for was . . . Ranma ½, I think. I thiiiiink. But that was a long-ass time ago and I never even posted it anywhere because those were the days when I despised typing things up beyond all measure, hah. And before that I remember writing Animorphs . . . comics? Storyboards? Something like that. Kind of a cross between the two.

20) what’s your favourite fic you’ve ever written?

I do not know! There’s really just too many, tbh. Some top options are you found me when no one else was looking, best friends means you get what you deserve, clay kids, Avamorphs, handmaiden!Anakin, oh don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me, and . . . and I could go on for a dang MINUTE, honestly, haha, I’m just gonna stop myself here before I get too carried away.

I tag whoever happens to be reading this that wants to be tagged; have fun with it!

#meme #a/b/o #some not sfw links in here #fair warning #long post

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trashboatprince · 3 years

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How about 27 and 26 for Good Omens for your writing prompts.

Prompt: Seeing each other for the first time in a while

Sentence: “We should go out more often. You’ve been so busy lately. It’s like we never have fun anymore.”

I feel like writing up some 70s Ineffable Spouses with these themes!

It had been on a whim, really, that Aziraphale called out Crowley.

They hadn't seen much of one another since the... Insurance Incident, and Aziraphale was tired of kicking himself over what had happened. They had run into one another several times over the past six years, but it was mostly for the Arrangement's sake, not for them to enjoy one another's company.

The angel had been a bit alarmed to find Crowley at his doorstep the next afternoon after his phone call, seeing the demon leaning against the door frame, dressed in the style of the current era, and sporting an... interesting bit of facial hair. Aziraphale did not comment, just adjusted the tweed coat he had taken to wearing, though Crowley said that it made him look like a professor, or one of those smooth talking PI's in TV. Aziraphale didn't get that second part, but he figured it was a compliment.

They went out for lunch together, a quiet bistro that neither had visited before, catching up on things. Crowley seemed very excited to tell Aziraphale about his new, devilish plan to produce low-grade evil to get out of doing horrible stuff to meet his yearly quota.

The angel didn't really understand what he meant by making a few changes to the plans that London had for their roadways, but he figured Crowley wasn't going to bring anyone any harm with it, so he gave the demon his support. This earned him a bright smile, and Aziraphale smiled a bit behind his glass of wine.

After lunch, they found themselves in St. James's Park, neither commenting about what had happened there over a hundred years ago, they've been here together enough times to not let it effect them. They sat at their favorite bench, watching the ducks and swans, Aziraphale tossing food for them as Crowley leaned back, having been quiet for a number of minutes.

Then he spoke.

"I got into a new hobby." Crowley spoke, his eyes on the waterfowl. "Plants. Been keepin' them in my flat, I rather like it, learned about it from a magazine."

Aziraphale blinked, how... unexpected, but fitting. He smiled a bit, before letting out a laugh, catching Crowley's attention. "What's so funny?"

"Just... you." Aziraphale replied, still smiling. "And I mean that in the best way, my dear boy."

He turned to face the confused demon. "This has been lovely, just... this, you know? I missed this. We should go out more often. You’ve been so busy lately. It’s like we never have fun anymore."

The reason for that still played on repeat in both of their heads.

You go to fast for me...

But Aziraphale wasn't going to let that keep holding him back. "I know that I said somethings that, well, that hurt us both, but Crowley." He turned completely to face the redhead, who stared at him from behind his shades. "If you will allow me... I'd like for us to keep seeing one another, not just for the Arrangement, but for... our own enjoyment."

He took the demon's hand carefully in his own, Crowley's head tilting to look at this. "In time, when it's safe... we can go on that picnic, you can take me anywhere I want to go, but for now... this. Let's have this."

Crowley was quiet for a moment, before giving Aziraphale's hand a small squeeze. "Let's have this."

#good omens #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #crowley #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #john's drabbles

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asideofourown · 4 years

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Happy anniversary to the Good Omens TV show! I didn’t get the chance to write a fic specifically to celebrate (where did May go? Perhaps I’ll do something in June for my own go-versary), so instead here I am with 25 recs :D Thanks so much to @forineffablereasons for the bingo board (here is her original post)! And thanks so much to the Good Omens fandom for countless hours of incredible fic to read and enjoy <3 Obviously, this list barely scratches the surface of what’s out there, but here are some of my favorites!

A fic you’ve read several times: South Downs University series by @nieded

I’ve read this series probably... ten times, and I still love it. It fits (one of my absolute favorite) very niche categories with Crowley and Aziraphale being cryptid professors and utterly confusing their students, and i am HERE for it

A fic not abt Aziraphale and Crowley: Bridge over troubled water by @moondawntreader

LISTEN this fic is so good, I’ve read it probably four times and it’s incredible. Short, but so powerful in so few words. Leslie/Maud is the true otp ;D

A fic published before the show aired: Slytherin Vaguely Downwards by @saviobriion

This fic is really, really well-written, and does a fantastic job transporting many Good Omens characters into the HP universe in a way that works really well!

A fic you followed as a wip: on the same page by @thechekhov

Still a WIP, and still incredible! Az and Crowley as authors with their own Arrangement is already fantastic, but add in the fake-dating-while-pining-desperately? Incredible!

a human AU: secondhand smoke by @paintedvanilla

This is probably my favorite fic in the entire good omens fandom tbh... human au set in the 1990s, and so so so well done-- this is another fic I’ve read several times, and every time i notice something new. The characterization and prose is fantastic, the development of Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship is really sweet and realistic, and this was also the fic that definitively got me on board for Newt/Anathema as well!

A fic shorter than 2k: For Holding by theycallmeDernhelm

Ahh this one is really soft! Post-apocalypse hand holding is my jam, and the author does a lovely job of saying so much in so few words <3

A fic you stayed up way too late reading: Not So Different by effing_gravity

I stayed up until maybe... three in the morning reading this fic? After every chapter I would tell myself to only read one more, but it was so gripping I read it all in one sitting! Reverse omens meets the canon husbands in a super interesting and thrilling fic!

A south downs fic: The consciousness of loving and being loved by yolkinthejump

This is like... the platonic ideal of a South Downs fic imo. The author does an absolutely incredible job of conveying the depth of their relationship, and it’s so sweet and soft and <3

A fic with a favorite trope: There goes the neighbourhood by @jasmine-cottage-uk

so technically I’m cheating because the ‘favorite trope’ in this one is ALSO south downs (like above), but. This fic is so funny, and the author does a great job of capturing Aziraphale and Crowley’s voices and the way the care for each other, it’s very sweet <3

A dowling years fic: Floriography by Frenchmeister

This fic is very cute! Excellent Dowling-era pining, complete with misunderstandings and veiled communications :D And the author does such a lovely job weaving the narrative to show Aziraphale and Crowley’s growing relationship

A historical fic: Phersu by JCutter

This fic. THIS FIC. Is so fucking incredibly detailed and immersive, oh my god. I’m still (admittedly) in the process of reading it, but it’s a GEM. The characterization is on point and the whole thing is beautifully written and wonderfully interesting! It’s super clear the author knew what they were writing about, and that knowledge and passion really shines through

A favorite canonverse fic: England's pleasant pastures seen by @heavens-bookshop

this fic is my JAM-- overhearing a conversation, implicit marriage proposals, post-canon sweetness... this one’s got it all! And, as with all of their fics, squiddz does an incredible job of writing Aziraphale and Crowley in character and so wonderfully in love <3

MY FIC: A Guide to Fame for the Enterprising Demon by me!

This is my favorite fic I’ve written for Good Omens, and quite possibly my favorite fic ever. Listen, Crowley getting accidentally famous is SO funny to me, as is outsider pov, so if I write about it a lot... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

A fic that made you cry: reasons wretched and divine by @stammiviktor

Allison has been one of my favorite writers for a good long while, and this fic is just one of her amazing works. It’s touching and meaningful and so moving even in only a few thousand words, and between her characterization and writing style... this one packs a punch in the best of ways

A fic that inspires you: The Name of the Star is Wormwood by LusBeatha

So technically this could have gone up above, in the ‘stayed up too late reading’ category, because here’s another that was just too exciting to put down From beginning to end, the author does and incredible job connecting the past and present, and introducing characters in such an engaging way that, even though the fic is quite long, it goes by super fast. Probably my fave take on Raphael!Crowley :D

A fic you’d recommend to someone new to the fandom: Shotgun Wedding: sometimes a first date requires paperwork by @charlottemadison42

Still a wip, and absolutely amazing! Charlotte is an absolutely incredible author, and from the very beginning this fic does an amazing job of integrating canon characters (and even little nods and references to canon!) into an entirely different human au setting in a super engaging and clever way. 12/10 would recommend to someone new, and the slow burn is incredibly satisfying right up to the (current) resolution!

A comfort fic: it's a new craze by @areyougonnabe, [podfic] it's a new craze by @niceandaccuratetheatre

I’ve read this fic a few times, and it never gets old. attheborder’s humor is on point, and the conception itself- aziraphale and crowley on an advice podcast- is incredible! I would highly, highly recommend listening to the podfic if you can; it’s excellently performed, and in all honesty the podfic that got me onto podfics ;D

A fic that found you at the right time: two dad shaped beings by @jarchivism

i....... cannot express how much I love ineffable parents. And this fic seriously, seriously hits the spot. It’s super cute, super funny, and a really sweet and engaging read! The author did a lovely job with keeping Az and Crowley in character even as they raise the antichrist together

A fic you’d love to see as a movie: All's Fair In Love And Serial Killing by @wyvernquill

[Mind the tags] This fic does an incredible job of balancing darker content with humor. The whole story is fast-paced and exciting, keeping the suspense right up until the last moment, and the author does a fantastic job of constructing a satisfying ‘mystery!’ Most of all, the more morbid moments are countered by Wyvern’s clever writing style and narrative voice, making this fic interesting and even surprisingly fun!

A fic by a favorite author: Four Cups of Wine by borealowl

I really, really love this fic. The whole concept, of Aziraphale and Crowley getting to know a family of humans and learn about their cultural heritage through celebration is wonderful, and the author does a wonderful job of portraying the growth of their friendship! The entire series (both main fic and the one-shots that come after) is incredibly fun and interesting, and one of my faves in the fandom

A fic that made you laugh out loud: What's in a Name? by @rosen-ritter

The first time I read this I was in public, waiting at a car rental place for my grandparents. So the fact that I couldn’t stop laughing out loud was... honestly worth it. This series is so fucking funny from beginning to end, especially on reread, and has such a fun take on who the archangel Raphael really is ;D

A fic longer than 20k: Dad Omens by @pookaseraph

have I mentioned I love ineffable parents??? Because I really, really do. This fic is hilarious, sweet, and adorable, and I absolutely love the progression of Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship as they raise Adam together-- and, despite not being human, raise him well :D An absolutely wonderful take on what if the baby swap had been even more confused?

A fic with the them: and i don't care if you don't want me (i'm yours anyhow) by @quidfree

The main focus of this fic is Warlock, but the Them are featured pretty heavily and in a really important way! It’s a lovely exploration of kids growing up and going to college, and learning who they really are, and written so well and with such nuance that I really couldn’t put it down!

A fic with a line you still remember: A More Nourishing Love by @qorktrees

This fic is just. Really powerful. It’s so, so clear how much Aziraphale and Crowley care for each other, how much they love and support each other, and their unconditional love for each other makes me tear up every time <3

A GO: Lockdown fic: New slang by @carishouldbesleeping

This fic is super super cute! A lovely take on Aziraphale and Crowley’s reunion post-lockdown, complete with fluff and love confessions <3 So well-written and absolutely adorable!

#good omens #ineffable husbands #fanfic #long post

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ineffably-effable · 5 years

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further good omens fic recs

It’s been awhile since my last reclist post so here goes, please enjoy the rewards of my complete lack of self-control when it comes to this ship.

Please reach out if I’ve missed a tumblr tag, or drop a note if you have any recommendations I’ve missed! ( 31 recommendations underneath the cut )

(51k) Acts of Service by seekwill / @jasmine-cottage-uk

After receiving direct instruction from God, village reverend Aziraphale leaves his countryside congregation to serve the underserved and in-need at an urban church in London, a transition made all the more complicated by the mysterious and handsome Crowley, who always seems to appear when Aziraphale least expects him.

mood: pining, denial, secrets, idiots-in-love.

(Warning: Don’t start reading this one at midnight expecting to put it down. Learn from my mistakes.)

(44k) Mirror, Mirror by ImprobableDreams900 / @improbabledreams900

Crowley from an evil!au swaps places with our Crowley.

mood: butterfly effect, identity theft, Aziraphale!whump, badass!Aziraphale

(40k) The Strong Tower by BuggreAlleThis

After the failed executions, a vengeful angel takes it upon herself to neutralise the threat presented by Crowley and Aziraphale.

mood: aziraphale!whump, protective!crowley, hurt/comfort, pining and fantastic world building.

(23k) You Might Think I'm Crazy (All I Want is You) by soft_october / @soft-october-night

Since the next shop over closed down, Aziraphale's had a peaceful few months, barring those unpleasant interactions with the men in cheap suits who keep trying to persuade him to sell his shop. But now a (handsome) new owner has taken up residence beside him and, horror of horrors, he wants to open up a coffee shop.

mood: fledgling friendships, obviously-in-love-to-everyone-but-themselves, almost-letting-your-doubts-and-insecurities-ruin-things, if-only-these-dumb-bastards-knew-how-to-communicate

(23k) names in history by lagaudiere

Maybe he’d shown Crowley how to perform a few miracles, but that Crowley had taken to them so well was surely a sign that he wasn’t all bad. And maybe Aziraphale had let himself be called upon to perform a few temptations, but that was just testing the will of the faithful if you looked at it from a different angle.

mood: slow-burn, through-the-ages, beautifully written.

(22k) This Soul Outstreaming by Rend_Herring

Aziraphale constructs intricate rituals to touch the skin of other men (by “men” I mean Crowley).

mood: slow-burn, through-the-ages, forbidden love, UST, beautifully written.

(29k) 5 Times Aziraphale was Almost Discorporated and One Time He Actually was by charliebrown1234 / @charliebrown1234

What it says on the tin.

mood: Aziraphale!whump through the ages, protective Crowley, hurt/comfort, wonderful characterizations.

(20k) In Pleasure's Clothes by obstinatrix, wishwellingtons

Three Times Aziraphale Stalked Crowley In Gay Clubs And One Time He Moped At Wilde’s Grave.

mood: jealousy, pining, miscommunications, idiots-in-love

(18k) Soft (A Love Story in Three Bites) by mia_ugly / @mia-ugly

Crowley was an angel, once. Before she fell. Aziraphale was a warrior (she fell too. It just took a little longer.)

mood: ineffable wives thoughtfully done and beautifully written, pining, emotional vulnerability, hurting the ones you love, references to gothic romances that absolutely slay me, switching POVs between Aziraphale and Crowley.

(18k) On Earth as it is in Heaven by JMA

Aziraphale was at Crowley's trial...the first one.

For six thousand years Aziraphale felt like an angel who has fallen, waiting for Heaven to realise. His fear and doubt has shaped and defined him. Now, with the Armageddon over and Heaven and Hell off their backs it is finally time to come clean.

mood: betrayal, pining, misguided attempts at atonement, miscommunication and forgiveness

(15k) Through Every Door by darlingred1 / @darlingred1

After thwarting the end of the world, Aziraphale begins to avoid Crowley, and Crowley accidentally awakens his own repressed lust.

mood: mutually-pining-idiots, miscommunication, immortal-beings-taking-turns-with-their-single-brain-cell, surprisingly-Crowley-has-first-dibs

(16k) Least of All by stereobone / @stereobone

Every so often, Crowley talks to God.

mood: Crowley worrying after Aziraphale through the ages. Beautifully written, fantastic Crowley perspective.

(14k) Wine Fraud and Other Worthy Pursuits by ImprobableDreams900 / @improbabledreams900

When Aziraphale, rare book dealer and part-time wine collector, encounters a bottle of 1844 Château Lafite-Rothschild he suspects isn't all that it claims, he becomes determined to track down the truth.

Unfortunately, the finger of suspicion seems to point at fellow wine collector Anthony J. Crowley, whom Aziraphale is already well on his way to befriending.

mood: suspicious Aziraphale and fledgling friendships

(12k) Laugh When It Sinks In by Tenoko1 / @tenoko1

Crowley stopped them in their trek, slipping his arm from Aziraphale’s grasp to face him, hands on his shoulders. “Are you sure you’re alright? A-are you having, like, a mid-life crisis or something now that Heaven’s cut you loose? You’re worrying me. What’s next? Cherry red sports car?”

mood: making a home for yourself and your charmingly oblivious life partner

(10k) The Original Bar Joke by deathbycoldopen / @deathbycoldopen

The way Crowley saw things, it was all one big joke, with him as the punchline.

mood: drunk!pining, idiots-in-love, jealous!Crowley, straw-that-broke-the-camel's-back moments, drunk!confessions

(8k) did you open up your heart there? by weatheredlaw / @weatheredlaw

Aziraphale and Crowley meet over and over and over again. Aziraphale doesn't know what Crowley is, or why their souls can't seem to be parted, but he is a creature of love, and he's not going to argue with that.

mood: ready to have your heart broken over and over and over?

(7k) The Ark by rfsmiley / @redfacesmiley

We’ve all been assuming that it takes them 6,000 years to figure it out, but what if it takes 6,300?

Or: the ineffable husbands evacuate a dying Earth.

mood: ineffable dystopian sci-fi romance (and yes, I love that this is a mood I can use to describe a good omens fic).

(7k) Where Thou Art by Mottlemoth / @mottlemoth

A late-night bus to London, a few human comforts, and a long overdue confession... nothing will ever be the same for an angel and his demon.

mood: we-might-be-dead-by-tomorrow-love-confessions

(5k) Love Stories by goodomensblog / @goodomensblog

Crowley goes too slow, Aziraphale drinks copious amounts of alcohol, and the bookshop is (very nearly) set on fire. Again.

mood: drinking because you’re an idiot in love (or because you’re in love with an idiot), looking after your drunk mate (only he’s not your mate he’s the love of your life and he’s finally starting to get that)

(4k) A Metaphor Of Some Kind by copperbadge / @copperbadge

After the world doesn't end, Hell gets Crowley and Heaven gets Aziraphale, but not for very long.

mood: witty with great voices, loads of fun

(4k) One Sweet Moment Set Aside For Us by Arej

Tattoos are like stories you write on your skin, and they'll say things for you if you'll let them. Or perhaps prompt other people to say things.

Or, Crowley is just drunk enough to get bold and let his guard down, and it leads to something he never thought he'd be allowed to have.

mood: pining, touching, reverance, love confessions

(3k) Something To Talk About by iamtheenemy (Steph)

Aziraphale jumps to some very inaccurate conclusions.

mood: pining and misconceptions, let’s see if we can make Crowley have an aneurysm.

Wow! Thanks for scrolling this far! You’ve unlocked the secret “I’ll be in my bunk” section of the rec list! ;)

(That’s not to say the fics above don’t have their own hot scenes, or that the fic below are only pwp, but these are the fics where the plot is either focused mostly on sex or the build-up to sex.)

(4k) left with no trace, as if not spoken to by drawlight / @drawlight

Aziraphale's finger brushes against the edge of Crowley's hand. The theater is packed, it is dark. Everyone is watching the stage (no one is watching them). "Do you - ?" "Yeah, angel."

mood: Shakespeare may not have deserved this, but this reader is glad this exists.

(4k) I Tempt, You Thwart... Right? by AEpixie7 / @knightofthesevenfandoms

Crowley accidentally-on-purpose roofies Aziraphale and then feels bad about it because Aziraphale is so high that he can't remember how to sober up.

mood: serious wing kink, drug-induced-loss-of-inhibitions

(6k) Appetite by spunknbite / @spunknbite

Crowley places the macaron against Aziraphale’s lips with more reverence than the angel had thought him capable. “It’s alright, angel. Just take a bite.”

mood: drunk sex, overcoming inhibitions, first time, hand feeding

(6k) The Better Part of Valour by obstinatrix

Said I, a few weeks ago: "I feel there’s also room for e.g. bedsharing fic where the apocalypse has Not Happened and they’ve fallen into queerplatonic (or so they think) bedsharing and Crowley thinks he’s alone in being driven slowly to distraction by it, so he says nothing. Then one night he wakes when it’s still dark, and at first he doesn’t know why, until he hears Aziraphale’s breathing a little raspier than usual, and feels the very slight trembling of the bed."

mood: bed-sharing-with-serious-insecurities-and-misunderstanding

(7k) a treatise on your fingers in my hair by Nimravidae / @tooeasilyconsidered

Crowley sleeps for two days, his hair is a mess, and all it takes is a touch. Like a catalyst. Like striking flint, like a matchstick, like touching fire to gunpowder

mood: all that pent up UST has to go somewhere

(9k) Released by vaguely_concerned / @vaguely-concerned

After they get together Aziraphale has some lingering Ideas about his brief stint in the Bastille; Crowley is happy to help him explore them. Hijinks, as they say, ensue.

mood: french revolution era role play w/ feelings, fantastic dialogue.

(17k) One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) by Atalan / @seaskystone

Heaven and Hell share a corporate party once per millennium. This time someone's had the bright idea of issuing a challenge to the demons of Hell. Crowley has no intention of missing the opportunity; Aziraphale's just enough of a bastard to make him work for it.

mood: flirting and first times

You’re still here? Can’t get enough? Well check out these amazing WIPs!

Slow Show by mia_ugly / @mia-ugly

The Ineffable Pining Showmance AU that no one asked for.

mood: a more accurate summary would be the: ineffable pining showmance AU that no one knew to ask for, and everyone wanted more of. The characterizations in this are amazing. Crowley as a fallen film star is perfection.

Shifting Heaven and Earth by BuggreAlleThis

For most of history, since he narrowly avoiding Falling from Heaven with Lucifer, Crowley has been working for the Angelic Corruption Unit. This ended up being far more boring than he hoped it would be, but things change when he is assigned to go undercover on Earth. His mission is to investigate Aziraphale, an infamous angel who has been on Earth since its Creation, and whom Heaven is sure is guilty of corruption or dereliction of duty.

mood: slow-burn, betrayal, regrets, aziraphale!whump, bamf!aziraphale

the bucket list by darcylindbergh / @forineffablereasons

If you’re going to go native, you might as well go all the way.

mood: saying the absolutely wrong thing at the wrong time, reaching your breaking point, miscommunication and heart break.

Still here? :)

My previous good omens recs post can be found here [x]

#good omens fic #good omens recs #good omens fic recs #my fic recs #good omens #ineffable hubands #ineffable husbands fic #good omens fic rec

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femvimes · 5 years

Text

So you’ve watched and read Good Omens, now what?

Hi there! Your friendly local Terry Pratchett fan here. If you’re anything like me, you’ve been looking for something Good Omens-ish to read ever since you finished the show. I’ll start with the caveat that I haven’t read much of Neil Gaiman, so others can chime in on appropriately-similar things that he’s written.

First step would be, of course, to read the book itself. Okay, back already? Done that?

Next, well, it depends on what aspects of the show you want to focus on. Obviously we all love Crowley and Aziraphale, and I’ll get to them. They’re actually kind of unique in the pantheon of characters that Terry wrote, so I’ll move on to:

The Them

Terry tried out the kid dynamic only a few years after Gomens with the Johnny Maxwell trilogy. They are Only You Can Save Mankind, Johnny and the Dead, and Johnny and the Bomb. Like Adam Young, Johnny is a “Just William”-like character and has a gang of friends whom weird things happen to.

Neil wrote a book that I would consider similar to Johnny and the Dead which you may have heard of: The Graveyard Book. It’s been some years since I read it, but I think it was my first Gaiman and I enjoyed it. It’s about a baby who is abandoned in a graveyard and gets raised by ghosts.

The Four Horsemen

This one is super easy, because Gomens Death has kind of been transplanted from Discworld. Like Gomens!Death, DW!Death TALKS LIKE THIS, has a similar aesthetic, and shows up whenever important characters die. DW!Death has a surprisingly deep sense of justice and has saved the world on more than one occasion. Two memorable occasions are in Reaper Man and Thief of Time. ToT includes another take on the Four Horsemen’s ride and features Death’s human(ish) granddaughter Susan. Reaper Man is a fan-favorite and involves Death retiring and becoming human.

Neil created his own psychopomp, Death from the Sandman comics. I know next-to-nothing about this character except for the fact that she appears as a kind young woman, so if that sounds intriguing, check her out.

Heaven and Hell

This element is unique to the show, but I was reminded of the office politics of the demons in Eric by Terry. Also, Terry’s first ever short story, written when he was twelve, was about a man making a rather unique deal with the devil. It’s called “The Hades Business” and you can find it in the short story collection A Blink of the Screen. Small Gods and The Last Hero, both from the Discworld series, deal with the Discworld gods. Small Gods is more Big Idea like Gomens, and widely considered to be one of his best.

From Neil, of course, there’s American Gods, which is my personal favorite of his. Also deals with belief. It’s less lighthearted than Gomens and has some excellent American Gothic. I think Neil’s outsider perspective on America allowed him to write one of the most American novels ever.

Anathema/Newt/Shadwell/Tracy

Sorry, I’m just going to lump these all in together. Newt and Anathema follow a very recognizable early Terry relationship profile, of a kind of incompetent man and a practical women. Find this again in Wyrd Sisters and Moving Pictures. For Shadwell and Mme. Tracy, I look to that holy bible of Discworld books, Guards! Guards!, which features two unlikely characters no longer in the prime of their life getting together at the end. (And making one of my favorite couples in literature.)

Agnes Nutter comes up again (kind of) in the Discworld books as the witch Agnes Nitt. The characters aren’t similar except for the fact that they’re both witches. Agnes is proudly fat, practical, and has an otherworldly singing talent. Her best books are Maskerade and Carpe Jugulum.

Aziraphale and Crowley

Gays throughout history GAYS THROUGHOUT HISTORY

I practice self care by reading queer romance novels, and you should too. As I said before, Terry and Neil (as far as I know) never wrote another dynamic that was quite like Aziraphale and Crowley. So, as a gift to you, I’m just going to recommend my favorite gay novels, in roughly historical order:

Thick as Thieves by Megan Whalen Turner (This is NOT CANON but I have hopes for the sequel.) (Alternative history Ancient Greece.) This is the fifth in the incredible Queen’s Thief series, but it’s a great standalone. A guard from an enemy country frees a slave, the slave is conflicted about it, and they go on a big ol’ gay road trip.

The Ruin of a Rake by Cat Sebastian. (Regency era.) God, this BOOK - Julian Medlock writes a book and models the villain after his hate-crush Lord Courtenay. When Courtenay’s reputation is so smeared he can’t visit his beloved nephew, Julian’s sister (and Courteny’s friend) Eleanor convinces them to team up to bring Courtenay back into society’s good graces. It’s fluffy and incredible, y’all.

An Unnatural Vice by KJ Charles. (Victorian era.) Nathaniel Roy feels obligated to expose charlatan medium Justin Lazarus, even though they have a definite attraction to each other. When they’re both caught up in a sordid (and dangerous) scandal, Nathaniel spirits them away to his family’s country house where they fall in love. This is the second in the Sins of the City trilogy, and the whole series is interconnected, but this one’s my favorite.

And there you have it! Again, anyone else feel free to chime in on more read-alikes by Neil Gaiman. It’s really interesting to see them both use the themes that they introduced in Gomens in their other work. Gomens is similar to a lot of late-eighties/early-nineties Pratchett, and I would imagine the same applies to Neil.

#neil gaiman #terry pratchett #discworld #good omens

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vidavalor · 2 months

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Ok, your meta where you talk about what Dagon's saying about Satan and Crowley and the appetizers has gutted me like a fish (that pun feels wrong 😁) Do you see other scenes that are about this in the show? I think you're right about it and I'm just wanting to pick your brain on the topic because I think it makes the story even better if it is talking about stuff like SA.

Hi! Thanks for reading. 💕I really appreciated the pun actually lol as it's a tough topic and good to have a laugh in there. I wrote a post about parallels between Crowley and Satan and Nina and Lindsay that I'll link below but I do see it in other scenes that I haven't mentioned yet as well, including a scene with Mrs. Sandwich and the Discorporated!Aziraphale scene...

TW: discussion of SA under the cut.

One scene I see it in is this actually this one:

As they're getting ready to go face the demons-- led by devout Satanist Shax-- Crowley asks Mrs. Sandwich if she "has her hat pin." Crowley isn't under the 19th century spell that everyone else has been at times during The Ball but he's referencing the one thing from that era that Mrs. Sandwich will get, likely whether she is still under the magical influence or not. Hatpins were banned in England during the suffragette movement in that era as they were the most common thing a woman could carry on her person that she could use as a weapon to fend off sexual assault-- and many women were doing just that. The men who held the government positions and the power sought to outlaw them to "protect themselves" from women by doing this and led to women carrying weapons more surreptitiously-- like hiding a knife in their stockings, etc..

Mrs. Sandwich owns a bordello and is a sex worker and the odds of her not being a sexual assault survivor herself are slim to none. Crowley accurately determines that she's the person in the room best qualified to back him up and he wants her close so he can make sure she doesn't get hurt because he cares about her. Mrs. Sandwich is wearing a hat that is pinned into her hair so she is carrying a literal hat pin but Crowley's question is really asking her if she's otherwise armed-- and ready for this-- to which Mrs. Sandwich replies that she's "got more than that, love." She's got Crowley's back. Who is best equipped to fight The Devil? The ones who already have won a few rounds, like Crowley and Mrs. Sandwich.

There's also this bit from S1 about Crowley and Lucifer/Satan, especially if you take into account how euphemistically food is used in the show:

Yes, Crowley is drunk but it's been the case across a few scenes that there's often a lot of truth in what he's saying when he's off his head. "The food hadn't been that good lately..." He's basically saying he was bored and lonely and depressed and so was vulnerable to Lucifer's initial attentions and what Crowley thought was some sex and some new friends wound up an abusive boyfriend and eternal damnation.

The rest of this scene is Discorporated!Aziraphale appearing to Crowley and it helps illustrate why the first part of it begins with Crowley talking about Satan-- it's to continue to draw a very deliberate contrast between Satan and Aziraphale. Aziraphale shows up and the topic becomes how Aziraphale needs to possess someone to get a body temporarily and get to Tadfield. The prior time in the series at this point that we saw someone possessed was when Satan attacked Crowley. Crowley and Aziraphale are the exact opposite of that in this scene, which is, ultimately, about consent. Aziraphale won't possess Crowley and is, instead, searching diligently for a receptive body-- a person willing to let him possess them. Aziraphale's jokes are sexual innuendo relating to his own lack of a body rather than an actual request to possess him. Lucifer is literally possessive, while Aziraphale is not, and would not break Crowley's trust by violating him.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens meta #aziracrow #good omens 2 #tw sa #tw trauma #tw ptsd

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nicnacsnonsense · 4 years

Text

So right now as I sit here procrastinating on the things I’m supposed to be doing is probably a good a time as any to dump my Good Omens Jane Eyre AU thoughts on you all. (Quick side note: Aziraphale, Crowley, and Beelzebub are all female-presenting, she/her for the purposes of this AU.)

I want to start you off with a little backstory. The other day @eunyisadoran suggested to me that Gabriel and Beelzebub would make for a perfect Rochester/Jane Eyre AU. What my mouth said in response was “Sorry, I don’t really ship Ineffable Bureaucracy,” but my brain said, “Wait, shut up a second me; I can work with this.” But as I considered it I decided that while I could see Gabriel as Rochester — Gabriel isn’t someone I’d consider especially Byronic, but if you set that aside, he can still function in the story the way the character needs to — Beelzebub as Jane was not working for me at all. If Gabriel tried to pull on Bee some the shit Rochester pulled on Jane, Bee would just straight punch him in the face. By that point it was getting pretty late, so I fired a message off to Euny about how I’d do it that I’m pretty sure was supposed to be a joke at the time, but the next morning she came back to me super on board for it, so here we are.

Okay, stick with me, cause it’s going to sound weird at first, but I promise it all comes together. As I said, Gabriel as Rochester, but Jane is Aziraphale. Beelzebub is instead Bertha, Rochester’s mad wife. For Aziraphale and Gabriel’s relationship we’re going to take the things about Jane/Rochester that are a bit problematic and amplify them, while dialing down the idea of there being any genuine love there. For Aziraphale Gabriel is handsome and charming, but more importantly he holds a position of power over her, so when he starts showing an interest she subconsciously convinces herself she returns his interest. Meanwhile Gabriel is lonely and mentally exhausted and Aziraphale is emotionally easy for him. She’s attractive enough, she’s there when he wants her, goes away when he doesn’t, doesn’t ask anything of him, and is generally pretty compliant. I wouldn’t say it’s Gabriel’s intention to use Aziraphale like that, but that’s absolutely what he’s doing.

So we get to the wedding scene and the truth coming out about Bee — let’s maybe have Ligur as her brother, since in Jane Eyre Bertha is a POC — and Aziraphale leaves Thornfield. Eventually she ends up at the doorstep of the River siblings: Crowley, Shadwell (young ‘67 era Shadwell, obv, not old man Shadwell), and Anathema. (Which admittedly is a weird group of siblings. I’d probably make Anathema a half-sister, with a Puerto Rican mother.) Crowley instantly gets a massive crush on Aziraphale when Shadwell brings her in, and very quickly falls in love with her. However Crowley assumes Aziraphale couldn’t possibly love another woman, and so keeps pushing Aziraphale on Shadwell, thinking if those two get married, at least Crowley will always be able to keep Aziraphale close by. Meanwhile Aziraphale hasn’t figured out the whole “being into girls” thing yet, but knows she’s hurt by the way Crowley, who is Aziraphale’s dearest friend, keeps pushing Aziraphale away and pawning her off on her brother. Eventually Aziraphale does agree to go marry Shadwell and go to India with him because she’s convinced it her duty and she thinks it’s what Crowley wants. But at the last minute (and with some help from Anathema) Aziraphale realizes she can’t leave the person she’s in love with — her cousin Crowley. So Shadwell goes off to India on his own (and has a terrible time because we hate him), and Aziraphale and Crowley live together as wives with Anathema as their mutual best friend (aside from each other).

But we’re not nearly done yet. First we’re actually going to backtrack some to touch on some Gabriel backstory. I’ve rearranged the timeline a little to lessen the age gap between Gabriel and Aziraphale. Aziraphale can stay 18, but Gabriel I’m pushing down to late 20’s. Part of that means pushing his affair with Céline (who I think we shall leave as Céline) to before his marriage, while he was on break from university. Gabriel was not going to take her baby in — despite her claims that he is the father, he suspects the actual father was her other lover (who Gabriel didn’t know about and dumped her when he found out) Lucian. However, Gabriel’s mother found out about the whole thing and ordered him to take in the child, and Gabriel will argue with absolutely anyone except his mother. No one argues with Mrs. Rochester. No one. And that is how he ended up as the guardian of Adam, who is eight when Aziraphale is hired on as governess.

Gabriel graduates university when Adam is one, and at encouragement from his mother he goes to Jamaica to visit the Masons and potentially court their daughter Bee (apparently God just ships all the angel/demon pairings; all about that balance). They get married and then whoops, turns out “madness” runs in the family. Bee’s behavior starts to become erratic, and she begins losing touch with reality. They had back to England with hopes of better doctors and a cure, but during the voyage Bee’s symptoms continue to worsen and she becomes prone to violent outbursts. It’s so bad by the time they reach England, Gabriel ends up sneaking her into Thornfield at the dead of night. Little three year old Adam wakes up and sees this, but is told in the morning he dreamed it. He still tells the story to Aziraphale when she comes years later, but Adam tells a lot of wild stories and she assumes this is just another one of them.

Backtracking a bit, what Bee has is what we would recognize as schizophrenia and she is currently suffering from a psychotic episode (which are of course not usually violent, but in Bee’s particular case she can be). Unfortunately the doctors weren’t really familiar with that, so they just called it hysteria. It’s all those lady parts, making her crazy, as they do. Bee is prescribed with a frequent regimen of heavy doses of opium, to curb her outbursts. It does calm her down, but turns out one of the more uncommon side effects of opiates is to cause psychosis. So this medication actually exacerbates her psychosis, even if it keeps her calm. So she isn’t so much locked in the room as she is just in a constant drugged out haze — when she isn’t full-on catatonic — completely divorced from reality.

Grace Poole will be played by Madame Tracy, who I realize is pretty different from Grace in terms of personality, but I have my reasons. Tracy is the kind of person who is scatterbrained enough to occasionally forget to give Bee her medication and also kind-hearted and scatterbrained enough to sometimes deliberately skip a dose because she seemed like she was doing better, she was practically lucid today, and I really do feel she gets better quality rest when she’s not on the drugs. Those are the times Bee manages to break out, when the amount of opium in her system has dipped enough to allow her to actually get up and move around independently. Unfortunately she’s still suffering from her psychosis at these times. Mostly she just wanders around confused and getting up to small mischief — breaking things, moving things around, and the like — but she is still violent on occasion.

After Aziraphale and Gabriel’s aborted wedding and Aziraphale leaving, Gabriel snaps a little. He sends Adam away (to visit Grandma perhaps) as well as a good chunk of the servants, and then cuts off Bee’s opium. He claims he’s doing this to punish her for her part in ruining his wedding and his chance at happiness, but honestly the dude just misses his wife. Because he doesn’t see the vacant woman sitting doped up in a chair all day as his wife. At least when she’s off the opium and throwing shit it reminds him of the passion she used to have. At first it does get worse, but after a bit she starts to calm down. Tracy stays with her when she’s upset and stays calm and positive, Bee starts to get familiar with the house, less staff means she’s not running into people she doesn’t know as much. They figure out that most of her violent behavior was caused by her being confused and scared and lashing out. Then the morning she wakes up and is genuinely lucid. After 6 years, her psychotic episode is over. They conclude that while the opium was keeping her calm, it was also worsening her delusions, and resolve not to give her any ever again.

All of this about what happened after she left Aziraphale has had in a letter from Adam, written with help from Madame Tracy and his new tutor Mr. Newton Pulsifer. They have heard of Aziraphale’s new station and improved fortune, and Adam begs Aziraphale, as well as the Misses Crowley and Anathema Rivers, to come visit them all in Thornfield Hall as soon as they can. They all lived happily ever after, the end.

#good omens #ineffable wives #ineffable bureaucracy #jane eyre au #aziraphale eyre #jane eyre #fandom fusion #long post

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spacecravat · 5 years

Note

HELLO would you happen to have some good omens fic recs please? :D

fair warning that i am terrible at reading fic and so haven’t actually gotten through much, and also immediately forget the titles that i have read. (what usually happens when i get in a good omens mood is i reread the sacred and the profane, which i don’t even particularly like and yet have read at least 4 times, go “fuck,” and then stop reading anything at all for a while.)

THAT SAID, here are a few i’ve read recently that i loved:

Any Way You Want It by LieutenantLiv @justkeeptrekkin (27k, rated M): they go on vacation to scotland! there’s only one bed! whatever shall they do! so much pining and so very tender

You, Soft and Only by thehoyden @thehoyden (9k, rated E): fake married, for a given value of fake. absolutely delicious amounts of yearning with the perfect spot of angst. i did in fact have actual tears in my eyes by the end

Anthophilia by FortinbrasFTW (49k, rated E): human au, which i am not usually the biggest fan of, BUT. this was really good. i read the whole thing in two sittings and it only took two because i fell asleep halfway though after staying up too late reading. crowley has a flower shop and Oh No the guy he had a thing for in college just opened a bookshop across the street

the yet unknowing world by Ark @et-in-arkadia (8k, rated E): it’s the elizabethan era and there’s fucking happening and then suddenly so many feelings. i’ll be honest, i wasn’t sure about this fic in the first half, but oh boy did the second half get me good

Of Celestial Sonnets and Pitiable Poets by triedunture (6k, rated T): regency fic! crowley writes anonymous love poetry of dubious quality. aziraphale gets his hands on it, naturally. shenanigans ensue. very cute and funny

Liminal by fynnkaterin @fynnkaterin (4k, rated T): a very lovely post-apocalypse-that-isn’t fic, the two of them hanging out at crowley’s place and figuring stuff out

also @forineffablereasons‘s entire fic tag because they murder me on the regular (also their ao3)

#anyway me and my approximately 50 open ao3 tabs are still out here #not looking at each other #but i made a small dent #good omens #anonymous #asks #h

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new-endings · 4 years

Text

The Nice and Accurate Guide to Courting

Summary: As Hell’s bastard prince, Crowley is expected to wed an Archangel of Heaven’s kingdom to bring peace between the two warring nations.

It really is too bad he only has eyes for his sweet, bastard of a Guide, the Principality Aziraphale, who is dead-set on making sure the engagement happens.

Chapter 3:

Interlude: A Guide’s Folly and Frustrations

ch1, ch2, ao3

Chapter Summary: In which Aziraphale struggles to find the meaning behind Crowley's exceedingly odd behaviors.

Special thanks to @top-crowley-central, @sadwendigo, @imjustadrummer and of course, @hope-for-snow (dw bby I’ll give you yours next time) for helping me come up with these little courting intricacies!

Aziraphale fought the urge to pace back and forth.

He’s late. Again…

Aziraphale could understand being nervous; he himself was the last person to fault another for such feelings. It was, after all, quite a momentous occasion.

The Angel did his best to set the mood: an abundance of miracled flora sprawling vibrantly over the white walls, the clearance of both his and Crowley’s schedules, and all on a lovely sunset—clouds painted with lovely pinks and blues as the warm, orange twilight bathed the castle in its romantic glow.

Aziraphale ducked his head out from the balcony and his heart caught in his throat—

Ah. Finally.

The prince had arrived.

Aziraphale sighed a breath of relief and smiled to himself as he let his eyes trail over him. Well, doesn’t he look fetching?

Crowley tended to wear darker garb, as was customary for many people in Hell, and while he hadn’t altered that aspect of his wardrobe, he did heed Aziraphale’s light suggestion in wearing something a little more form-fitting… something that accentuated Crowley’s height, his lean body, and elegant lines. And the results were nothing less than spectacular.

Crowley, unfortunately, was making a face far less pleasant to look at.

Or rather he did until he met eyes with Aziraphale; a bright smile graced his lips and Aziraphale gave a little wave back.

Good, Aziraphale thought. What was probably pre-date jitters seemed to melt right off. Aziraphale gave an encouraging grin in return and made a gesture for the prince to get on with it.

Archangel Uriel wasn’t going to stand around at the keep forever.

The prince made a show of rolling his eyes before sauntering towards the awaiting Archangel, her shoulders visibly stiffening at the sign of the prince’s approach.

Holding a breath and uttering a short prayer, Aziraphale forced himself to watch on with apprehensive hope. It was quite difficult to get a hold of any of the Archangels, but with the deleterious prospect of war hanging over their heads, the Archangels were less inclined to deny a Prince of Hell private audience.

Then, it was simply a matter of choosing one that best suited Crowley’s fancy.

Archangel Michael was the most revered of the Archangels: her fortitude in the battlefield earned her place as the Queen’s Right Hand—

—but that being said, she was also terrifying, slain innumerous members of Hells’ army, and in Crowley’s words “a wanker.”

Though Aziraphale sputtered at the last bit, Aziraphale supposed he should count their lucky stars that there were other choices to speak of; Michael, for now, was safely off the table.

Then there’s Archangel Gabriel—

—to which Crowley vetoed outright. “Angel, does it look like I fancy the prospect of going for an early morning jog every damned day for the rest of my life?” And, well…

Aziraphale could hardly fault him for that, now could he?

That left Archangel Uriel.

Calm and steadfast in her mannerisms, Aziraphale felt that out of all the Archangels, Uriel would probably be their best bet in going forward with their Queen’s plan. Sure, she seemed a bit cold. Standoffish, really, and a tad intimidating—but she was also a refined lover of the arts. Something that Crowley (and himself) could greatly appreciate.

There, Aziraphale thought triumphantly. An Archangel who isn’t interested in liquid protein concoctions and an Archangel who you can bring home to without constant threats of assassination for vengeance. Crowley, begrudgingly half-heartedly, agreed.

Oh! They’re conversing! The Angel fought back a delighted sound. He really, really hoped this would go well. He prayed that they’d at least get along. Aziraphale wasn’t naïve—he knew how much of a sacrifice this was for Crowley—for anyone, really. To tie one’s life to another for an end for a conflict, rather than for the simple joy and a promise to live a life together. It was…suboptimal, to say the least. But it must be done and all Aziraphale could do now was hope that Crowley could find both; that this would all work out in the end and that the prince would find himself with a happy marriage and live in an era of peace.

A happily-ever-after.

Aziraphale, with his love of romances and tales, was a Principality to his core. Despite their roles during the wars, Principalities were ultimately made to love.

And oh, how Aziraphale loved love.

Hope bloomed in his chest as the minutes ticked by. It seemed to be going well enough.

Well enough being the key phrasing here. Neither of them made the efforts to step closer, keeping a sizeable distance as they conversed. It was always difficult to read Archangel Uriel, but with their backs turned, perched on the keep, and Aziraphale only able to observe from a tower balcony, it was impossible to tell the reality of things.

But at least the prince wasn’t flung off across the battlements, so Aziraphale would take that as a small victory. A positive sign.

Or it was, up until Crowley likely made a bad joke, judging from his shaking shoulders and the way the Archangel slowly turned beside him. Aziraphale’s high hopes took a sharp nosedive to the pits of his stomach, a feeling of dread creeping up to within him.

Oh no.

The pair seemed to exchange a few words before the Archangel Uriel turned and walked off, a noticeable haste in her stride, leaving Crowley making a hapless shrug at her exit.

Aziraphale blew out a blustery sigh, mourning the failed attempt. Back to the drawing board. He rushed out of the room, out of the spires, and towards the gardens at their designated meeting place.

And in his rush, he completely overlooked the triumphant grin on Crowley’s face and the pleasant tune he whistled out as he walked off.

“That went terribly.”

Aziraphale would have felt much more sympathy had the other even bothered to sound afflicted. “Prince Crowley—”

Slumped down on the stone bench next to him, Crowley rolled his eyes. “Just Crowley, Angel.”

“Your Highness,” Aziraphale continued irately. “What in Hell did you say to her?”

“Nothing,” Crowley replied but Aziraphale could see he was biting back a smile. “I was an utmost gentleman, I assure you.” He gave that same damned smarmy grin again. “Would I lie to you, Angel?”

The very one that made the Angel’s blood boil. “Recent history has proven that, yes, yes you can,” he sniffed. “Quite gleefully, might I add.”

Crowley made a show of pouting, but Aziraphale was not swayed. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

The Angel sent him a flat look. “Not on your life.” No siree. Not after that first humiliating encounter at the hands of Crowley’s deception.

The prince seemed to ruminate this for a while before sighing. “I’m sorry.” Huh. Aziraphale could almost believe that tone. “Honestly, I am. For how it made you feel.” Hesitantly, Aziraphale turned and was met with amber, pleading eyes.

Good grief. Aziraphale shook his head. “Crowley, it’s not my feelings you should be worried about!” He pinched his brows. “If Uriel makes a poor impression out of you, it may prove even more difficult to court—”

“Not exactly what I was apologizing for but,” Crowley paused at the sight of the unimpressed look Aziraphale shot back at him. “Yeah. Sorry about that too, I guess. What can I say? Birds don’t exactly have the best sense of humor.” He smiled to himself, obnoxiously smug. “As recent history has proven.”

Aziraphale let out a gasp. “Crowley!” Gracious, it was like he wanted things to go amuck! “You honestly shouldn’t sound so, so—”

Crowley gave a tilt of his head. “Dinner?” At the mere mention of it, Aziraphale cursed himself for his mood mellowing almost immediately. “To get your mind off it,” the prince continued. He eyed the Angel thoughtfully and Aziraphale fought the urge to squirm under his golden gaze. “There’ll be other opportunities, Angel. For now, let’s just enjoy the night.”

He already stood while Aziraphale uselessly floundered with his options; on the one hand, it would be best to regroup and discuss the meeting with Uriel thoroughly. That first impression seemed to have gone… less-than-ideal, but it was better to learn from the experience and make good use of it. On the other hand, it would be nice to get their minds off this first little misstep. And what better time to regroup than after filling their bellies to further fuel their conversation and ideas?

Crowley looked expectantly at him, hand outstretched to pull the Angel off his seat.

I talked myself into this, didn’t I? “Oh, very well,” he sighed, allowing himself to be whisked away for the night, much to his chagrin and much to Crowley’s glee.

Just like every other night, it would seem.

At least Crowley looked to be in high spirits. “Excellent! Say, how about we try that place with the thin pancakes that you like so much?”

“For the last time, Crowley, they’re crêpes—"

If the past few weeks taught Aziraphale one thing, it was that Demons were an astonishingly generous bunch.

Of course, he’s only had a sample size of one thus far, but Aziraphale feels that he’s got the basics down at least.

Crowley had a flair for opulence. Of course, this wasn’t unusual. He’s a prince—but Aziraphale couldn’t help feeling a slight shift as of late. Of course, Aziraphale still wanted to treat the prince as a guest of his kingdom; this often entailed Aziraphale scheduling meetings at lovely sights and monuments around the capital, the fine eateries and haunts Aziraphale frequented and could therefore vouch for in quality, and yes sometimes it would be on Crowley’s coin—

(All right, discounting their first meeting with the oysters, it was always on Crowley’s coin.)

— it seemed as though the prince’s natural desire for luxury eventually won out. Tender, juicy meats cooked to pinked perfection, fresh, flaky fish fillets lusciously seasoned, beds of vibrant and verdant vegetables, and ripe, refreshing fruits, assorted together in the varying styles of each of the four corners of the kingdom, far beyond a standard Principality’s paygrade to dine upon on a regular basis. But it was ever his fortune that as lavish the lifestyle of a prince must live (bordering on extravagance, really), Crowley was always more than willing to indulge Aziraphale’s tastes. He was delightfully thorough and thoughtful to his preferences, indeed.

Having been trained and stationed at the Eastern Gate for so long, Aziraphale’s mouth watered at the flavorings and spices of the North, the fine fragrance of the South’s wines, the luxury and decadence of the West’s desserts. He was quite eager to share them and their rich history, and Crowley…

Well he seemed to be content just to sit there and converse, letting the topic drift anywhere from the best plays that were in the theater to the rambunctious fun Crowley got into as a boy.

And to drink, of course.

Oh… Aziraphale sighed, breathing in the delicious aromas marrying together from the plate before him. The Archangel of his choosing will be surely a lucky one!

Aziraphale valiantly ignored the strange taste in his mouth at the thought. He succeeded with the aid of the lavish meal he dug into. The sea bass was cooked to perfection and paired nicely with the lemon jus and Aziraphale savored each lovely bite. Ah. Bliss.

Unfortunately, it appeared that Crowley didn’t quite agree. He had barely touched his meal and instead laid his elbow on the table ( Poor etiquette, Aziraphale thought; he ought to remind him not to do such a thing in front of an Archangel) with the palms of his hand resting his chin and staring…rather intently at Aziraphale.

The Angel blinked. “Is the food not to your liking, Crowley?”

That seemed to startle him out of whatever reverie he was under. “Hm? Oh, no—no, I mean it’s good. Just…”

“Not hungry?” the Angel offered.

Aziraphale was certain that although the poor dear gave a brisk nod, he was indeed lying. He looked positively starving! Perhaps he just wasn’t one for fish?

“Well that was scrumptious,” Aziraphale sighed, already feeling the day’s stresses dissipate. Still, the matter of the next attempts of wooing should be discussed and Crowley was looking quite famished. Perhaps they could opt for another night in at his quarters. “What are you in the mood for?”

Something flashed in those golden eyes but Aziraphale couldn’t quite put a name on it. “Alcohol. Quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol.”

The second thing that the past few weeks taught Aziraphale was that Demons were an incredibly forgetful bunch.

Aziraphale eyed the state of his quarters: various articles of dark clothing strewn about, sashes, scarves, coats, all matters of jewelry, even a bloody diadem just hanging on the post of his bed at one point—

Crowley really ought to take better care of his things. But, Aziraphale learned from the last venture when he had dutifully gathered up the rich cloths and glittering treasures and brought them back—

Only to be met with an…uncomfortable look from the prince and some rubbish about him Having another just like it somewhere in his wardrobe and Save it, would you? For safe keeping.

Whatever that meant.

“Oh! Before my mind slips from me,” Aziraphale said, compliant as ever in reminding Crowley about what else he decided to stow away in the Angel’s quarters. “You forgot your—”

The prince waved off the comment before resuming his regular position on the Angel’s new sofa. “Keep it; I’ve got plenty more at home.”

“Crowley,” the Angel chided. “Your ring? The one bearing your family crest?”

Amber eyes briefly flickered to the item in Aziraphale’s hand, blinking before giving a careless laugh. “Keep it; I’ve got plenty more at home.”

This little— “Oh you…” At the other’s playful grin, he had half a mind to throw it at his companion’s head, if not for sheer propriety holding him by the scruff of his neck. Crowley was a guest after all. “Fine, I shall place it here for safekeeping,” he announced, heading straight to the corner of his room that slowly turning into a prince’s lost-and-found, brimming with the other items Crowley has left and/or given him over the course of a few weeks. Books filled most of the shelves, a feather here, a vase of Imperial Snowdrops there, a constellation of gifts and memorabilia dotting the walls.

“Why not wear it?”

Aziraphale nearly dropped the ring in his hands. Has the alcohol gotten to him already? Aziraphale gave a (breathless) chuckle. “Sorry dear, I don’t think your ring would be a proper fit.” He gave a short demonstration, fitting the band and exhibiting how it stopped at the proximal joint of both his middle and ring finger.

Crowley protested to that immediately. “’course it will.” He gestured for the Angel to come closer and despite the warning signs, Aziraphale sighed and headed over anyways. Taking the Angel’s hand in his own, Crowley gave a bleary-eyed examination before plucking the ring, “Fits right…” and slipping it over Aziraphale’s pinky. “Here!” he deemed with a happy finality.

And it was a perfect fit.

Crowley sat back, looking so pleased with himself that Aziraphale could only answer with a mild, “Oh. I guess it does.” He examined the ring closer under the flickering firelight, fighting the urge to pull away from the warmth of Crowley’s hand still holding his.

It was a pale gold, unlike the dark, muted colors and vibrant reds that accentuated Crowley’s hair and eyes. It glittered, defining the details of a magnificent serpent sinking its fangs to the breast of a ferocious bird of prey. Aziraphale swallowed, suddenly feeling his mouth dry and cheeks flushed.

He looked up to find Crowley staring at him again. He seemed to be doing that quite often as of late.

“Right, then.” Aziraphale didn’t know what to make of the ring, the crest, and why Crowley wanted it on his finger, but he’ll keep it on to appease Crowley. He finally dropped his hand and Aziraphale scurried back to his desk, a pounding in his chest he could only attribute to the wine not pairing well with the fish he had earlier.

Thankfully, Crowley didn’t comment on the matter any further. Instead, what he did choose to comment on was much worse.

“Of course. I leave my feathers here after relaxing my poor, aching wings, and you use the primaries as—a quill?”

Aziraphale, paused, looking down, He was, indeed, using one of Crowley’s abandoned plumes as a quill. The Angel huffed. “You said to do what I want with them—especially after you begged me not to throw them out.” It wouldn’t do to have loose-lipped maids discovering that the prince was molting from finding the evidence in the trash and he couldn’t very well chuck them in the fireplace.

They were fireproof after all.

Crowley made a face. “I didn’t beg.”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to roll his eyes. “Right, dear. And I’m the one molting right now.”

“’m not molting!” he defended (rather poorly, in Aziraphale’s opinion). “’Just. Not acclimated to the weather here. That’s all.” He stretched the magnificent wings out, causing Aziraphale to startle at the large wingspan. “See? Does that look like a mess of molting to you?”

They weren’t. Either that, or Crowley was among the few birds that could molt gracefully without looking like a plucked chicken.

Aziraphale bit back a smile. “No. I suppose not.” By the Queen herself, Crowley’s wings were gorgeous. Blacker than night, not a feather out of place despite how many he seemed to lose whenever he brought them out in Aziraphale’s quarters.

“Hey, Angel?” Aziraphale turned from his chair, glancing over to where Crowley was perched on the sofa. “Let’s see yours.”

Aziraphale wasn’t even aware he was making a face until Crowley pouted.

“C’mon give it a go. I’ve shown you mine already,” Crowley bargained. “It’s only fair.”

This time Aziraphale knew exactly what kind of face he was making. It was one that lead the petulant prince to pout at him.

The third little oddity—err, quirk he had noticed about his sample size of One, was that Demons could be…oddly affectionate.

At least, by Angel standards.

The sharing of feathers, the demand request to see his wings—

All quite…intimate things to do, but nothing out of the ordinary for close friends and families; a gift of feathers from one of a different flock was a declaration of forming new bonds, an act of adopting an outsider or joining as a family.

It made…for a strange warmth at the pit of Aziraphale’s belly and before it even fully registered, a flurry of white enclosed his peripheral vision.

They were smaller than Crowley’s. Not by much, mind you, but longer; he was made for gliding, soaring, rather than the wings of agile flyers like Crowley’s were.

And as such—they were also a terrible pain to preen.

“Don’t you ever take care of them?” Crowley gave a long once-over to each folded wing as he sat up. “Poor things look like they haven’t been groomed in ages.”

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale started, folding up his wings self-consciously. “I suppose it has been a while,” he murmured, tracing along a primary. Too long, really, since he’d had a partner to preen him. A partner to preen for. He beat back the unpleasant feeling as he cleared his throat. “I’m sure your staff keeps your wings well maintained, but not everyone—”

“They don’t.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Oh, but…” He stumbled. “Your family must—”

At that, Crowley gave a bitter laugh. “Pfft. Nah.” He gave a meaningful look to the Angel and his ruffled wings, and to his own, lovely pair. “I wouldn’t let them touch a feather.”

But whatever meaning it was, Aziraphale couldn’t understand.

..............................

Crowley didn’t know whether to thank his lucky stars or curse them to his kingdom and back for making the Angel so thick.

He’d watch on, unabashedly trailing his gaze from the way that soft, pink mouth opened and closed around every morsel of food, to the way his eyes fluttered shut, from way the Angel gave an enticing little wiggle as he savored each and every bite, to the polite and delicate way he dabbed at the corners of his mouth with the napkin.

The prince, with his food long forgotten, found that he’d much rather make a meal out of this delectable Angel instead.

Crowley never thought of himself as a glutton for punishment, but watching Aziraphale indulge and sigh in honeyed bliss gnawed at the chains of his control to not simply take the Angel by the hand and lead him somewhere nice, dark, and far away from prying ears just to hear what else Crowley could do to elicit such wanton sounds from that sweet, sweet mouth.

Crowley shook those thoughts from his head; it wouldn’t do well to be this aroused during one of their meetings. Not with Aziraphale insisting that he wear something a little too tight around the trousers—

—but ah those coy looks trailing over his form from the Angel himself was too difficult to ignore. Perhaps he’ll wear similar garb more often and hopefully speed up this entire ordeal of courting in the process.

And ordeal was putting it lightly.

Angels, from the sounds of it, needed far more reassurance of compatibility before initiating acts of courtship, hence why Aziraphale was there to give some insider-details of the Archangels’ follies and fancies. It absolutely would not do to initiate acts of courting without due introduction and shared interests.

Demons, however, tended to gauge all that through acts of courting.

It’s not uncommon for the two to share meals and outings together, even if it ended with Aziraphale giving him a tour of the kingdom. In the beginning, Crowley preferred those days the most since he gets to see Aziraphale in his most natural element: enjoying himself. But other times, the Guide’s sense of duty breaks through and Aziraphale will begin with such nonsense like “Oh Michael’s swordsmanship is legendary, but she has quite the affinity for spears as of late, so for a courting gift—” and other such useless topics. These were the times that regrettably reminded Crowley that he’s here to wed one of those wankers instead.

So, Crowley often deflected, steered the conversation away from unsavory waters, and navigated them towards more pleasant shores by innocently asking, “Right, good, but do you like the North’s dessert wines or do you prefer the South’s reds?”

Of course, Aziraphale will naturally start another hour or so lecture about why nothing beats the Southern reds.

And some nights, Aziraphale will find a nice bottle of Southern red and Crowley is duly repaid with a sunshine smile and his Angel in a happy mood the next day.

Using that same method, Crowley gathered all sorts of interests from the Principality; from his preferences of bygone authors and poets, to the locations of his favorite bouquets of rare Imperial Snowdrops, to which shops baked the sweetest cakes and other delicacies.

A fine ordeal, courting. But Crowley didn’t mind it.

When it came of official courtships, jewelry was traditional, but outright presenting them to the Angel was tricky; he couldn’t very well offer them as payment for his guidance and company as Aziraphale wasn’t took keen on adorning himself, save for a few choice items. So, Crowley did the next best thing: he took to leaving them in the Angel’s little nest instead. An armband here, a bracelet there, and Crowley chuckled at the memory of the Angel carefully wrapping his own diadem before presenting it back to the prince with a pinched look. My dear, I know you’re a bit scatterbrained, but please don’t leave such treasures in my room where I can be easily accused of stealing.

Let them know they’re gifts, Crowley strongly hinted suggested, but Aziraphale made that familiar downturn of his lips that let Crowley know that his “joke” wasn’t appreciated. He took back the headpiece and a few choice items. Obsidian blacks and bloody rubies were hardly Aziraphale’s style anyways.

Books, as scarce as they were in Hell, were Aziraphale’s favorite weakness. He’d never refuse such a rare gem for his collection, so Crowley had taken to sending requests from couriers with the implication that they were being utilized in the name of courtly love. And that was their designated purpose, but decidedly not in the way that would please the King, the next-in-line, nor the entirety of his own damned kingdom—but sharing that bit of information wasn’t necessary.

Wining and dining were a staple in all cultures across the lands, but it was especially appealing for Demons to seek a mate that could provide for them (and Crowley could, would, and was proving this aspect quite thoroughly) and it was nothing short of instinctively pleasing to know Crowley could nourish and sate his future mate to his heart’s content.

Not only that, but since food and drink were consumables, there’d be little evidence of the existence of said courting to point a finger at. Other Birds wouldn’t bat an eye if a prince went out to dine at expensive restaurants and demanded the finest of wines and liquor—oh, for him and his companion? Well he’s a prince after all, he can’t settle for anything less. It was perfect, really. Crowley’s preferred method of courting for this very reason.

Another bite of his meal and his Angel moaned, face enraptured, absolute ecstasy painting across his features. Crowley carefully adjusted himself in his seat.

Among other reasons.

By Crowley’s standards, his Bird was thoroughly courted—

But for better or worse, Aziraphale hadn’t noticed it at all. It seemed that they were on very separate wavelengths when it came to matters of the heart.

Which was really such a damned shame because Crowley, on the other hand, was growing restless and his senses going wild.

Wild in the sense that if he didn’t see Aziraphale at least once that day, his instincts itched and gnawed at him from the marrow of his bones to ensure Aziraphale’s safety; in the sense that he was becoming in tune with the Angel’s needs—It’s lunch time and he should be peckish by now, He’s brooding, Angels aren’t supposed to brood at least not mine something’s wrong and I need to fix it, He’s hardly sleeping and is probably up all night reading those novellas I sent him last week so maybe we should schedule our meeting later in the morning; in the sense that it drove him absolutely mad that he was not able to scent himself on Aziraphale—because if he can’t claim him, then anyone else could just as easily walk by and snatch his little Bird up—

Wild in that sense.

His thoughts were plagued with it and Crowley grew antsier by the day. There were some things he could intercede on behalf of his own sanity, at least.

Although he couldn’t very well scent Aziraphale’s form, his Bird’s little nest was helping soothe that ache. It was cluttered with shelves and collections upon collections of tomes, tales, diaries, and journals and most importantly— cluttered with things of Crowley.

His coats still hung by the rack, his pendant at the side of Aziraphale’s desk; wraps and cloths were strewn over by a chair, folded neatly on a shelf, inside a drawer that contained a variety of Aziraphale’s own outerwear, soft golds of bangles and rings tucked neatly away in a small chest within the trunk at the foot of Aziraphale’s bed—

Even his feathers.

The first time Crowley had been given entry to Aziraphale’s quarters, he was ever-so-fortunate that Aziraphale had been distracted with hunting down a bottle of fine wine to share when those bloody vestigial appendages popped from his back, leaving several feathers in its wake.

Crowley did the only thing one could do at the time—aside from panic: sprawl himself over the sofa and take a nice, big, stretch.

When Aziraphale returned with a vintage bottle, he gave one raised brow at the Demon. Making yourself comfortable, I see?

Crowley barely tilted his pillowed head from the outdated cushions. I’m trying but, this thing’s so ancient, it might disintegrate if so much as twitch.

(As a small aside, there was no way Hastur and Ligur believed him when he used his own coin to replace the battered old thing with something more opulent—something sturdier. All because the legs collapsed after Crowley gave one, hearty sneeze. They had sneered and mocked, rudely implicating that the causal activity likely had been a bit more rigorous to break the sofa.)

It seemed customary now; every time Crowley so much as set foot in Aziraphale’s nest, the night-black wings would manifest without fail. Crowley didn’t know if this was some sort of deeply rooted predisposition left over from their origins as Angels. He just hoped he wouldn’t find himself doing some idiotic mating dance next that consisted of flapping his useless wings around.

But Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was being a bastard and teased him about his little molting issue.

Which it isn’t!

Crowley, please collect your feathers.

Daft bird. What am I going to do with my own feathers?

Well. what am I supposed to do with them?

Make a cozy pillow or something. Anything’s better than this stiff rock, he had said with a wide gesture to the array of cushions Crowley haphazardly displaced.

He’d meant for that to be a joke, but he quickly warmed to the mental image of Aziraphale curled up to a pillow made of his own down.

The Angel could say what he liked about the issue; so long as he finds use for those feathers. It just seemed. Right, somehow. Even if it was currently being utilized as a writing tool—delicately held in Aziraphale’s plump hands, well-manicured fingers tapping and twirling the plume, the absent-minded brush of the pen against his mouth as he contemplated something— Crowley wouldn’t complain.

In fact, he couldn’t say much of anything as he watched.

Surprisingly, it was Aziraphale that took heed of the last little courting gesture. One that Crowley hadn’t even realized he’d been doing.

Since the little sofa incident, Hastur and Ligur had transitioned from merely ribbing him of the time he spent with Aziraphale to outright stalking them. Every so often, he’d catch a whiff of brimstone and find the pair staring back at him unabashedly. It made Crowley downright uneasy, knowing that they were tracking his movements, their activities.

Who knows what they’d report back to Hell…

Aziraphale was less perturbed by the whole thing. They’re your footmen, Crowley. Shouldn’t you be glad they’re actually doing their jobs for once?

But he relented under Crowley’s insistence that they meet at obscure areas and then head out for the day. Of course he had to deal with the Angel’s insistence that this is ludicrous! but Crowley won him over in the end.

He always does.

Getting Aziraphale to meet him at the designated destinations had been an ordeal of its own, however. It took quite a few trials and errors, but Crowley thought they had a pretty good system down by now. They’d already made four rendezvous points at this time, and it was going swimmingly—

Even if the Angel couldn’t remember between the bandstand (4th rendezvous point) and the national library storeroom (the 2nd).

Hastur and Ligur—as well as any other Demons that came aboard with him, were out of sight for the past week. Still, that did little to ease the anxiety slowly coalescing within him. He’d taken to surveying the area, half an ear attending to whatever his Angel was prattling on about, another honed on dark whispers, covert murmurs, and listening for telltale wheezy little laughs.

He didn’t know if Hastur and Ligur had more contacts, if people started talking and speculating about how much time he spent with this particular Angel. Sure, he can spin the tale justifiably since Aziraphale was ultimately his Guide to the kingdom, but sooner or later, people will be demanding results and progression towards his wooing to an Archangel and by then, Crowley will either need to have won Aziraphale over or—

“Crowley, could you please stop that?”

He startled, turning to the Angel. Aziraphale sighed and tugged him towards a quieter street and away from the throngs of people.

After taking a few lefts and the crowds walking by thinned down, Aziraphale forced the prince to look straight at him. He gave an annoyed huff, but there was no mistaking the worry in those stormy eyes. “You were making me dizzy.”

Crowley blinked. “What?”

There was a stern frown set upon the Angel’s lips now. “Did you even hear a word I was saying?”

A quick scan through rote memory and: “The musical. Yes. The Archangels will be there.” Right. That was why his Angel was wearing new attire: a coat, vest, and trousers of soft creams and off-whites—different from his usual robes. “You were showing me to the theater.”

Aziraphale nodded, suppressing a shudder. “Yes. The…Sound of Music.” He made a face like he had just sampled an under-seasoned cut of steak. “Gabriel’s favorite.”

Crowley grimaced. Ah. That. Archangel…romance-business.

“Yes; honestly not my favorite production but—there you go again!” Aziraphale gestured about him. “Kettling as we speak—”

“Kettling,” Crowley spat, heavily in denial though he halted his movements and…was altogether unsure exactly how he went from being right in front of Aziraphale to standing just by his left. Right. “Ridiculous—”

His Guide shot him an exasperated look. “Circling, then. Stop it, you’re making me feel like—prey.” Aziraphale raised a brow at the convulsion of emotions that just flashed through the prince’s face. “Crowley, is everything all right?”

The prince snorted, none-too-delicately. “Fine. Just…fine.” Prey?

For Go—Sa—for someone’s sake.

He really didn’t get it, did he?

“No, not just, Crowley,” Aziraphale started, patiently. “You’ve been acting all out of sorts for the past few weeks. It’s been worrying me.”

Crowley fought back a wince. “It’s—”

Nothing, really. I’m just upset and bloody hormonal because I can’t scent you, I can’t mark you, I can’t let anyone know you’re mine, and now I’m paranoid that my own men are going to turn against me because I’ve went and decided that I’m simply gone for you.

But obviously, he couldn’t say all that. Not now. Not yet. “The, uh. Situation’s finally gotten to me, is all.” Crowley gave a swallow at the confused look on the Angel’s face. “I’m not used to it. The responsibility. It makes me...anxious,” he ended.

“Oh dear…” Bless—curse this Bird for his cloud-puff soft heart and pleading eyes. “I thought you were adjusting so well.”

“Not your fault, Angel,” Crowley muttered. “New territory, too. Being in Heaven, that is. Can’t help but feel uneasy.”

Tentatively, Aziraphale reached for arm and Crowley wanted to take his hands again, just like that night under the stars weeks ago. Instead, Crowley let it hang limp as the Angel gave a comforting pat.

“My dear, I may not have my sword anymore, but you needn’t worry.” He gave a small, encouraging smile. “I promise to protect you.”

At that tender declaration, Crowley’s brain temporarily short circuited, causing him to trip over his own two feet.

“Crowley!”

That felt like final nail in the coffin: he’s so deep in love to the point it’s physically ruining him and his reputation.

.............................................

Crowley was late. Again.

And when Crowley was late, it never ended very well for Aziraphale and his best-laid plans.

“Well, well.” A Demon stood before him, blocking entrance from the West Wing where Crowley and the rest of his legion resided. Dark hair and complexion with fiery eyes. Ligur.

“If it isn’t the Guide,” another called out from behind the Angel, effectively blocking the exit. An unnatural pallor framing dark, dark eyes; Hastur, then.

Aziraphale had no time for this. He cleared his throat. “Hello, gentlemen. Is Prince Crowley ready?”

He turned to see Ligur shoot a knowing smile to his companion. “Off to another affair?” he asked, ignoring Aziraphale’s question entirely. Okay. Fine.

The Angel decided to play along. “We’re meeting in regards to the progression of—”

“Right, right…” Hastur muttered dismissively. He inched closer to the Angel with a toothy grin. “Say, he is wooing an Archangel, right?”

Aziraphale tried very hard not to give him a look that would have implied insult to his intelligence. “Yes, of course. That’s what I’m here for—”

“Just making certain that things are going according to plan,” Ligur assured with a complacent smile.

Yet something behind that tone made Aziraphale think twice about his intentions. “Yes. No hitches or road bumps,” Hastur added with a smirk at the way the Angel stiffened as he came up behind him.

“No…distractions,” Ligur added with an intimidating step forward.

Oh dear.

No wonder Crowley preferred spending time over at Aziraphale’s quarters if this was what he had to put up with. He nodded primly despite his mounting annoyance. “Quite right, gentlemen. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know that things are progressing as expected, and that the Prince will be meeting with Archangel—”

“Oh good, good.” Ligur gave another shared smile with his Demonic mate. “Delightful to hear.”

“Yes,” Hastur nodded perceptively. “Especially since the prince has been exhibiting, well,” he gave a vague gesture. “You know…”

“Hastur,” his companion admonished with a scheming grin. “Careful, now. We wouldn’t want word to get out.”

That gave Aziraphale pause. “Word?” Was something wrong with Crowley? “Exhibiting what, exactly?”

Hastur gave a mocking gasp. “Oh, you haven’t noticed?”

“The prince has been exhibiting a few…peculiar behaviors of late, hasn’t he?” Ligur prodded.

Before Aziraphale could refute, deny, or even concede, Hastur answered for him. “Indeed, he has. Tell me, Bird,” he said, turning to Aziraphale with a blade-sharp smile. “Do you know how Demons court?”

Aziraphale didn’t know what to make of that question; it certainly never crossed his mind that courting differed between their two kingdoms. “I’m sure just the same as anyone else.” After all, love was Her creation. It shouldn’t vary so much…

Right?

Ligur gave a thoughtful hum, kettling—but this time, leaving Aziraphale feeling exactly like prey. “Not exactly. Not how you Birds court.” His eyes flashed with humor. “No preamble, no pussyfooting. Straight to the meat of the matter, as it were.”

“The courting itself is a means of gauging compatibility,” Hastur added, circling clockwise to his partner’s counter. “Gifts, usually food and jewelry.” He gave a pointed look to the ring on Aziraphale’s finger. “And other preferences,” he added with a furtive smirk.

The tartan bowtie Aziraphale had eyed yesterday at a shop and found neatly packaged in the middle of his bed suddenly felt tight around Aziraphale’s throat.

Were they implying—

No. That’s…that can’t be, that’s—

Preposterous.

They must be messing with him. Playing him for a sucker. Ugh. It was no wonder Crowley could barely tolerate their presence. They were proving exceedingly poor company. Still, Aziraphale plastered on a placid smile. “Well! Then it seems our sessions have been fruitful!” His smile widened as the two paused in their movements, a few inches away from a full-on collision. “Crowley is ready to court, it would seem.”

There was a cruel smile etched on Ligur’s face. “Oh, I do believe you’re right, Angel.”

Aziraphale didn’t outwardly flinch. It was the same word Crowley had repeatedly called him; it was what he was, an Angel of the Queen, down to his very core of being. Yet somehow, it sounded so wrong coming from this Demon’s lips.

And he really didn’t want to stay there any longer. “Right. In that case, with the air cleared, please let me through. I do believe we’re running a tad behind schedule now.”

Hastur pulled to the side, the maw of the West Wing entrance left open to him. “By all means, don’t let us keep you.”

Aziraphale gave curt nod of thanks before heading off.

“Yes, and oh,” Ligur called after him. “Send Prince Crawley our best wishes.”

At that, Aziraphale stopped. He swiveled around and marched straight towards the grinning pair. He shook his head. “Goodness, what a noisy lot you are. And to address your prince as such?” He crossed his arms, a bite of authority in his tone. They may be guests but that didn’t mean they had free reign to do as they pleased. “Have you no tact? We’re all working on the same side, here! And your prince is making a noble effort for peace. That ought to deserve some respect from his men.”

At that, the façade cracked, even for just a second. “The same side,” Ligur sneered. “What do you think this is about, hm?” He took a step forward, surprised to find that Aziraphale held little to no fear in his eyes. “Have you no brains, little Bird?” Merely contempt.

“Leave him be,” Hastur admonished. “He’ll find out soon enough.”

The Angel wisely paid little heed to that statement; probably another taunt to rile him up again. “Hmph.” Aziraphale narrowed his eyes but turned all the same. “I bid you two gentlemen a good night.”

“Good night, Principality Aziraphale,” Ligur intoned with a mocking, sweeping bow.

The pair watched as the Angel made his way through the halls and to the Prince’s quarters, his footsteps echoing all the while.

Then, somewhere in the distance, an echoed, “Oh. Angel! You’re here already?”

“Yes, we need to be there by dusk, I told you this already!”

“Ah, right, right…”

Hastur gave a raspy chuckle. “Rather feisty, isn’t he?” There was a cruel upturn of his lips. “I can see why Prince Crawley has his eye on him.”

The carriage ride to the theater was a silent one. Mostly because Crowley was sulking at the prospect of spending the next few hours listening to inane singing, earworm-inducing tunes, and approaching yet another Archangel by his own Angel’s design.

For Aziraphale, the ride over was a rather pensive one.

He couldn’t help but replay their words, blood burning beneath his skin at their blatant disrespect and insinuations. But…that disconcerting meeting might have given Aziraphale insight and an answer to all of Crowley’s strange behavior.

But was it true? Was Crowley truly exhibiting courtship behaviors?

Was he ready to take the next step?

He couldn’t tell for sure. After all, Crowley was right in saying that his footmen were a wretched bunch, though they were lenient enough to let him do he pleased so long as he got himself out of trouble. Aziraphale knew that logically, he shouldn’t pay heed to them. Surely, Aziraphale would notice by now if Crowley had been showing signs of interest, signs of love—

He was a Principality, after all.

“Penny for your thoughts, Angel?” Aziraphale turned to see Crowley, once more slumped over in his seat. Goodness, can’t he sit straight for once?

“Careful, dear,” Aziraphale warned with a smile. “In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.”

He gave a teasing grin. “Brooding, then?”

“What—no,” Aziraphale assured. “Just. Reflective.”

Crowley nodded. “Ah. So you are brooding.” He gave a chuckle at the derisive snort he received in turn. Golden eyes flickered from the Angel’s face to his vestments. “You’re wearing it, I see.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale straightened the bow with a pleased smile. “Yes, it’s lovely. Thank you.”

Crowley cleared his throat. “Think nothing of it. I think I did the tailor a favor, taking that thing off his hands. Really, Angel? Tartan?”

“It’s stylish,” Aziraphale countered. “And I adore it.”

An indulgent smile made its way to Crowley’s lips as he leaned back in his seat, looking quite accomplished with himself.

Aziraphale nearly let out a gasp.

It finally clicked into place. The gifts, the food, the books--! It all made so much sense now. And Aziraphale was frustrated that he couldn’t see it sooner. That he couldn’t help Crowley sooner.

Crowley was obviously exhibiting courtship behaviors to see how Aziraphale would react to it! That way he could gauge how an Angel would respond to the practices before displaying them in front of his intended Archangel!

It was brilliant, really! The marriage of two cultures shouldn’t just be Crowley forced into the traditions of Angels, but a collaboration between two courtship efforts!

It was…decidedly odd. But Crowley was an imaginative and decidedly odd Demon to begin with.

Still… Aziraphale thought. Practice…for courtship?

It was beyond odd—it was mad. But perhaps it’s just imaginative enough to work.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Aziraphale: Pure of heart. Dumb of ass. I’m sorry, Crowley. The light in your sky, the love of your life, is a moron.

Shout out to Binging with Babish’s “Jurassic Park’s Chilean Sea Bass” recipe.

Also vultures, do not in fact, circle their prey.

I am so sorry for this mess lmao

#good omens #ineffable husbands #top crowley #bottom aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale

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