#60s femme aziracrow

[sonnetsterlingwritesstuff]

The Female Experience (Good Omens)

Aka My Take On The Scrapped 60s American Femme Flashback. Thanks Neil, I’ve had no peace since discovering this existed :)

Ao3 Here

Genre: Angst/ Fluff/ A Good Dose Of Social Commentary

Words: 5421

TL;DR: Heaven wants to know why the Pearly Gates are opening to more women than men. Hell is almost certain that God is playing favorites. So they send their representatives on a bit of an undercover mission to figure out what *exactly* is going on- what are women doing so much better than men?

It was the year 1965. Aziraphale found herself seated in a booth at a diner in New York, New York. She smoothed the skirt of her dress before folding her arms onto the table in front of her. It was odd , she thought, to have her legs so exposed. Normally, she’d wear trousers- but then she wasn’t normally in America, and she wasn’t normally presenting as a female. It wasn’t that she didn’t like women- it was just that the form she’d initially chosen for Earth leaned more towards presenting male, and she’d been very comfortable in it. She sort of liked this form too, though- it was so elegant . So graceful. There was an absolutely enthralling feeling that came with looking into a mirror and seeing something so beautiful . It was almost making her vain .

She’d put a good lot of research into her appearance- she needed to get a real feel for what it was to be a woman nowadays. She’d read lots of magazines, and looked at many pictures. She’d even been to the picture shows to see how it was women were presenting. From that, she had gleaned an appearance that she thought blended in rather splendidly. She was not as trim as the women in the films, but she made up for it with what she thought were some stunning curves… that were unfortunately masked by the dress she was wearing. It was such a pretty dress though. The dress itself was a milk-chocolate brown, with a straight skirt and a high neckline. It almost appeared to be made of a suede material. It cut off at the shoulders, so underneath she’d worn a sky-blue blouse with a lovely rounded collar that fell over the neck of the dress, and she’d tied a matching sky-blue bow. On her feet, she wore white mary-jane pumps, and she’d styled her peroxide-blonde hair in the beehive style that was so fashionable. She’d even changed her face to one that was a bit softer and more traditionally feminine, and she’d dabbled with makeup (taking Audrey Hepburn as a muse). She thought, at the very least, that she was very a-la-mode.

It had taken some deal of effort to get there, but she was here now- out on the town, in a lovely little diner. This was, she’d heard, the very heart of Americana. All she was missing was a ‘shake’ and some french fries- which weren’t actually french at all. They were Belgian. Aziraphale would know- she’d had some of the first back in the 1600s. But that was besides the point now. Now what she needed was to get a server to notice her so that she could order her shake and fries. It was odd- she’d been sitting here for some time now, and yet all the men and families that had walked in since she’d arrive had already been served. Perhaps the waitresses simply hadn’t seen her. She tried to get eye contact, giving a polite little wave. If the waitress thought she was rude she might continue to ignore her. Though it still didn’t seem to be doing her any good- it was almost like she wasn’t there at all.

Still, she persisted… until she saw a face that was somehow familiar . Aziraphale didn’t even need to think twice about who it was, even though she probably should. She was really getting a bit too familiar with Crowley. She blinked at the demon’s appearance- this was different for them- or, she supposed, her for the time being. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Crowley present as female, but this was the first time Crowley had changed faces to do so in… well, ever , to Aziraphale’s recollection. It seemed that they’d gotten the same idea. Crowley sported a black turtleneck with black pants with a yellow grid-like pattern on them and black flats, her red hair curled out on the ends and held back by a headband that matched her pants. Of course, she still wore her signature glasses- it would have taken an awful lot of effort for her to change her eyes, and she’d already put in enough. She was slight, with a rather beautiful face- such soft features with beautifully high cheekbones. The rouge she wore made her lips stand out, and Aziraphale’s eyes were not the only ones lingering on them. She was stunning, and her outfit was very fashionable… but it was also so brazen . Men around the restaurant stared, some whistling… much to the dismay of their wives.

Crowley seemed to catch Aziraphale’s eye, smirking before making her way to her and sitting down across from her. What was Crowley doing here ? Aziraphale’s mission from Heaven was simple- figure out why so many more women were gaining access to Heaven than men. Given America’s cultural influence, Heaven had asked Aziraphale to do her observing there as opposed to England- which was inconvenient and a little unpleasant, but unfortunately doable. All that was to say that there was a simple explanation for why she was there. But Crowley… well, Hell must have some sort of a plan that required him to be there. She couldn’t have just followed Aziraphale, could she? Aziraphale cleared her throat for a few moments as Crowley sat down before addressing her.

“Crowley?” She checked.

“Angel.” Crowley smirked softly. “What has Heaven got you doing hanging around here ?”

“I’m on a mission.” Aziraphale lowered her voice.

“What kind of mission?” Crowley raised an amused brow.

“I really shouldn’t be disclosing that…” Aziraphale sighed, but speaking from experience she knew there was no use trying to hide anything. Crowley was good with words- she always got the answers she was after. “Heaven has me looking into why there’s so many more women than men coming through the Pearly Gates.”

“That’s funny.” Crowley chortled. “Hell’s got me here for the exact same reason.”

“Do they?” Aziraphale lit up a little. “Isn’t that a fun coincidence!”

“Did they send you here because of the ‘cultural significance’?” Crowley hummed.

“They did !” Aziraphale confirmed. “Which I think is outrageous !”

“It’s like they’ve never heard of the British Invasion!” Crowley scoffed. “America’s crawling all over anything British right now- but sure, America’s the influential continent.”

“I was thinking that precisely !” Aziraphale nodded. “I tried to tell them.”

“What’s the point?” Crowley rolled her eyes. “They don’t listen.”

“No… no, they don’t.” Aziraphale gulped lightly, more than evidently nervous to voice any dissatisfaction with Heaven. You never knew when or where they were listening. Crowley wasn’t stupid- she could see how uncomfortable her counterpart was. So she did her the mercy of changing the subject.

“So, what’ve you ordered?” Crowley asked, picking up a menu. “Anything I should try?”

“Oh, I haven’t ordered yet.” Aziraphale admitted. “It seems… well, I really am trying not to make a fuss, but it seems that the waitress hasn’t even seen me.”

“What?” Crowley blinked.

“Well… she’s been serving all the families, and the men who walk in, but… she hasn’t even looked my way.” Aziraphale explained.

“Oh, that’s not going to fly.” Crowley grumbled before standing up and grabbing her place setting. She banged the cutlery on he table, sending a pointed glare to the waitress. One could feel the intensity of it, even if her eyes were masked.

“Oh, you don’t have to-” Aziraphale blushed.

“Excuse me!” Crowley called out to the waitress. “My friend here has been waiting for service for… how long’s it been?”

“Just around forty-five minutes.” Aziraphale croaked out, a dark shade of crimson in embarrassment.

“ Forty-five minutes?!” Crowley scoffed, looking at the waitress again. “What kind of service is that ?”

“I’m…” The waitress stammered.

“You’re going to come over here and take her order, or I’m gonna tell your boss how unprofessional you’re being.” Crowley threatened her. “You think he wants someone on staff who’s ignoring patrons?”

“What seems to be the problem out here?” A man in a soda-jerk’s uniform and an apron popped his head out of the kitchen.

“Oh, it’s nothing Mr. Kennedy.” The waitress flushed red. “These ladies were just voicing some concerns.”

“Your waitress has not served my companion here in forty-five minutes.” Crowley told him.

“Well… the place is fairly full, ma’am.” Mr. Kennedy reasoned.

“She’s serving everyone but us!” Crowley countered. “There are families that have just walked in, and they’re getting their orders taken!”

“This is a family diner- we’re in the business of serving families.” The man stated levelly.

“And what of the business men? Hm?” Crowley pointed out. “They’re not families.”

“They’re very busy working men.” Mr. Kennedy nodded. “Listen, ladies… Thanks for stopping in. But I think it’s time you got home and started making supper for your husbands, isn’t it?”

“Our husbands ?” Crowley fumed.

“You can make yourself a snack while you’re at it if you’re really hungry.” Mr. Kennedy hummed.

“This is ridiculous !” Crowley scoffed. “We’re willing to pay you, and you won’t have us?”

“That’s right.” Mr. Kennedy sighed before his eyes darkened and his tone took on more of an edge. “You can take your liberal feminism elsewhere, ma’am. This is a family establishment.”

“I think we will.” Crowley huffed, quickly getting onto her feet and taking Aziraphale’s wrist, dragging her along. “Come on, Angel.”

Crowley was brisk- so brisk, in fact, that Aziraphale nearly stumbled and fell. It was amazing how quickly the demon could move when she was upset. Aziraphale gave an apologizing glance at the waitress on her way out, who looked mortified by the entire situation. Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley had to look around to feel the eyes trained on them. They’d ‘caused a scene’, as some might say. But… even Aziraphale had to admit that it was a scene worth causing. Whilst Crowley had jumped straight to anger, Aziraphale found herself more confused than anything. Why in the world was that man so against them? Had Americans forgotten the importance of showing kindness to strangers? God herself could have been in that restaurant today and Aziraphale got the distinct feeling that ‘Mr. Kennedy’ would have reacted in precisely the same way.

“Thank you for standing up for me.” Aziraphale muttered, holding close now to her colleague.

“Absolutely ridiculous.” Crowley grumbled. “I’ve seen a lot, but this is an all-time low…”

“How has it come to this ?” Aziraphale asked tiredly.

“It’s humanity, Angel- they’re always finding new lows to sink to.” Crowley sighed. “I guess I can tell Hell that they were wrong- this isn’t all just God favoring the women.”

“Is that what Hell thought?” Aziraphale blinked.

“Yup.” Crowley sighed, popping the ‘p’. “Told ‘em that wasn’t the case, but they don’t listen.”

“God doesn’t play favorites- not since Job.” Aziraphale hummed.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Crowley rolled her eyes. “But this is one problem we can’t pin on her- this one is all humanity.”

“The audacity on that man, to refuse us service!” Aziraphale huffed in agreement.

“We don’t need him.” Crowley sighed. “We’ll find somewhere else to eat- perhaps spend the night out somewhere.”

“Where?” Aziraphale asked.

“The pictures might be nice.” Crowley mused. “I think I saw a poster for a special anniversary screening of Psycho at the theater a few blocks down.”

“Oh no- I read that book. Scared the living daylights out of me.” Aziraphale shuddered. “But… they have made an adaptation of The Sound of Music, and it’s in theaters now…”

“I am not going to watch The Sound of Music.” Crowley deadpanned.

“Well then perhaps we could-” Aziraphale started, before she heard a sharp whistle from across the street. She blinked, her eyes following it.

“ Don’t look .” Crowley warned under her breath.

“Why not?” Aziraphale muttered, looking in the direction of the whistle.

Across the street stood a cluster of four young men, wolfish grins on their faces as they seemed to scan every inch of her and Crowley with their eyes. There was a fear that crashed over Aziraphale like a wave, overwhelming every one of her senses. She wasn’t sure why- it was just a group of boys. If they were armed, Aziraphale didn’t know about it. They were just standing there… Standing there and eyeing her hungrily like she was a piece of meat. The fear seemed innate - instinctual , almost. Like it was programmed into her. She found that that kind of fear was usually very warranted.

“Hey good-lookin’, why don’t you come over here and let us show you a good time?” One of the men called over. She froze, shivers running down her spine.

“I beg your pardon?” She flushed red.

“No no no, angel, don’t let it get to you.” Crowley muttered, tugging on her wrist to keep her pardon.

“Oh, they’re British !” Another one of the men grinned even wider (if that was possible) before letting out a loud whoop. The other men joined, whooping and hollering across the street at her and Crowley. “Come on, let us show you the American way sweetheart!”

“Fuck off!” Crowley growled, glaring at them from across the street.

“Feisty!” Another man seemed to cheer. “I like a feisty girl!”

“Give us a chance, and we’ll teach you some manners.” A man smirked.

“You’re all sick !” Aziraphale exclaimed, finally finding some strength. She couldn’t let them talk about Crowley that way. “She is not an animal to be tamed, and if you don’t stop it right now, I’ll… I’ll…”

“Angel…” Crowley warned under her breath.

“You’ll what, little lady?” One of the boys quirked a challenging brow.

“I’ll call the police!” Aziraphale proclaimed. “This is harassment!”

“Nah… we’re just being friendly is all.” The boy chuckled softly. “Geez, you women can’t take a compliment!”

“I-” Aziraphale started.

“ Leave it , angel.” Crowley warned under her breath. “Just keep moving, or it will only get worse.”

“But we really ought to call the police!” Aziraphale protested quietly. “This isn’t right!”

“Who do you think the police are going to side with?” Crowley asked rhetorically.

“You’re not saying…” Aziraphale’s eyes widened in shock. “But that’s outrageous!”

“It’s society.” Crowley shrugged. “So I’d suggest moving, or they’ll just keep at it.”

“Fine.” Aziraphale muttered shortly, her pace picking up to be rather brisk. Crowley matched it, keeping her head held high.

“We’ll be here waiting when you change your minds!” A man called after them.

Aziraphale could not shake the overwhelming disgust that those men had given her. Did they honestly think that any of that was acceptable? Was that what humanity considered to be ‘normal’? If Aziraphale were an actual woman, she was fairly sure that she would lock herself away from the fear of it all. How courageous must a woman be to even dare to walk the streets when it apparently warranted that kind of attention? Or, a better question still- how had they all not snapped and eliminated the male race entirely? Having to go through that day by day… Aziraphale would think it would drive someone to madness. And yet the women she knew were some of the sweetest, gentlest and most caring individuals to walk the earth. They didn’t just overcome their circumstances- they thrived in spite of them.

She wondered, though, how Crowley knew what was going to happen. Aziraphale knew that her demonic companion had taken on a feminine form more often than she had, but in her experience Crowley hadn’t encountered anything like that … had she? She dreaded to think that perhaps it had , right under her nose, and from her cushy position in a safer masculine form she had failed to notice. Perhaps, even, she had unwittingly supported it. She shuddered to think of that. It was remarkable how stepping into someone else’s shoes could change one’s perspective. Crowley hadn’t even flinched through all of that. Aziraphale very much wished that she had .

“Ridiculous what men think they’re entitled to.” Crowley grumbled as she walked.

“Indeed…” Aziraphale bit her lip, still troubled. “Erm… Crowley?”

“Something on your mind, Angel?” Crowley asked, her tone still short. “Just spit it out- you don’t always have to be so polite.”

“You didn’t seem to be phased by any of that.” Aziraphale blushed. “Why?”

“Oh, Angel… that’s all existed since the dawn of time- since Adam and Eve, or Abraham and Sarah.” Crowley sighed, softening. “Did you really never see it?”

“No.” Aziraphale admitted, a bright crimson. “ I haven’t acted that way unwittingly, have I?”

“How should I know?” Crowley scoffed, before seeing Aziraphale wince. She sighed, toning herself down. “Well… I’m not with you all the time. But from what I’ve seen, you’re a more than decent man, Aziraphale. I don’t think it’s even in your capacity to do anything like that.”

“And I haven’t supported it?” Aziraphale checked.

“Not that I’ve seen.” Crowley assured her.

“Oh good.” Aziraphale sighed in relief.

“Do you really want to see the worst of what men have to offer?” Crowley asked.

“I don’t know… do I?” Aziraphale winced.

“You ought to- for the reports to Heaven and such.” Crowley pointed out.

“I suppose…” Aziraphale sighed. “Where are we going, then?”

“A bar.” Crowley hummed. “Any will do, as long as it’s not gay.”

“Why not the gay ones?” Aziraphale furrowed her brows, following Crowley.

“You’re really asking that?” Crowley raised her brows, unimpressed. Aziraphale blushed again, and she sighed. “This isn’t just a fatal design flaw on the part of all men- it’s a mix of lust and the patriarchy. God did woman no favors making her from man. The way men see it, ‘man was made in God’s image, woman was made for man’. They feel superior to them- like they’re a link higher on the food chain. Mix that with lust, and they begin to feel entitled to them.”

“But God is a woman.” Aziraphale furrowed his brows. “Or… or at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Don’t go about trying to tell that to men .” Crowley chuckled.

“I’m sorry, but how does this all relate to your point about gay bars?” Aziraphale checked.

“Gay men don’t lust for women- they don’t even have an interest in them.” Crowley clarified. “It takes out the entitlement factor. So gay men are much better to women. And gay women- the sapphics- well… they know better than to put each other through that.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale blinked, processing that.

“So no gay bars.” Crowley sighed. “We can go to one a little later once we’ve taken enough of a beating from the regular bars.”

“Alright.” Aziraphale sighed.

She let Crowley take the lead. She figured she probably should have known about the entire gay thing- it made complete sense. Perhaps that was why people always assumed Aziraphale was queer- because he treated women so well. How sad was it that that might be indicative of someone’s sexual preferences? That was how little self-control the straight men had over themselves. Now, mind you, Aziraphale knew that was likely a harmful generalization. She was sure that not all straight men treated women this poorly. Most of them probably weren’t so obvious about how they felt about women- they discriminated more quietly, like Mr. Kennedy had. In retrospect, though, Aziraphale wasn’t sure which form of discrimination was worse- the louder and more obviously wrong one, or the one so quiet that society had deemed it ‘normal’.

She followed Crowley in the doors of a dingy looking establishment- though Aziraphale had tended to find all the bars she had been to a little dingy. It was lively inside- lots of men chatting and drinking, making merry. For the first time, Aziraphale noticed the staggering lack of a female presence within a bar. If Crowley’s word was anything to go on, perhaps none of the bars she’d been to had had a strong female presence. She gulped as eyes trained on her much faster than she’d anticipated, smirks starting to grow on the faces of some of her spectators. It was like she’d just walked straight into the lion’s den. She felt Crowley lean into her, and she held closely to her.

“You’ll get the best experience by playing along with them.” The demon muttered.

“Must we?” Aziraphale winced.

“It’ll be worth it.” Crowley promised. She sighed, relenting and following Crowley to sit on a barstool. “Two White Russians.”

“Coming right up, sweetheart.” The bartender winked at the would-be ladies. Wonderful. They were already being patronized.

“What’s a White Russian?” Aziraphale whispered.

“You’ll like it.” Crowley assured her.

The hairs on Aziraphale’s neck raised as some sort of sixth sense activated. Two men approached her and Crowley from behind, situating themselves on either side of the would-be ‘ladies’. You could tell that they weren’t there for drinks- their focus was trained on the ‘girls’, like a predator to its prey. They reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Aziraphale had a pit in her stomach- she knew that this was going to be torture. Why had she let Crowley convince her to do this?

“Evening ladies.” The man beside Aziraphale winked. It took everything in her not to cringe. “How’s about I buy you a few drinks?”

“Sure thing, big guy.” Crowley giggled. Inwardly, Aziraphale was groaning. Outwardly, she forced herself to giggle as well, as though she found any joy in the prospect of this slimey man’s company.

“Hey buddy, next few rounds are on me.” The man told the barkeep, slurring his words slightly.

“Name’s Tom, ‘n my buddy is Dylan.” The other man introduced. “What can we call you fine ladies?”

“ Mrs . Fell and Mrs . Crowley.” Aziraphale introduced, with an emphasis on the prefixes.

“You related to an A.Z. Fell and an Anthony Crowley?” Dylan asked.

“I- we are .” Aziraphale stammered, shocked. “Those are… they’re our husbands. ”

“Visited their bookstore on my last trip overseas.” Dylan hummed. “I thought they were queer. ”

“Well, they can be rather strange .” Crowley teased.

“Mmmm… let’s leave the husbands out of this then.” Tom flashed her a wolfish grin. “What’re your names?”

“I-” Aziraphale began to protest.

“I’m Sadie, and my prudish friend is Dottie.” Crowley introduced, offering him a hand to shake. Instead, he yanked it up and kissed it sloppily up her arm. Crowley giggled along with it- but this time the laughter was more obviously fake.

Aziraphale shot Crowley a small frown- they hadn’t discussed new cover names. Then again, they also hadn’t discussed new cover wives . So they were about even, she supposed.

“Yes… Dottie Fell and Sadie Crowley.” Aziraphale confirmed warily.

“I’m Tom, and this is Dylan.” Tom introduced again.

“You’d mentioned that.” Aziraphale, aka Dottie, hummed softly. These men were both drunk as a skunk, which Aziraphale feared meant nothing good.

“What brings two lovely ladies like you into a place like this?” Tom asked.

“Just a night out on the town, exploring.” Crowley- or Sadie , for now- mused playfully.

“Must be so different from England.” Dylan hummed, running a hand down Aziraphale’s arm until it hooked around her side. She felt her breath hitch.

“Erm… yes, it is. Quite.” Aziraphale muttered softly before taking a healthy sip of her drink.

“It’s an awfully long way from home.” Crowley played along, not even flinching as Tom’s arm smoothed down her back and rested just above the danger zone. Instead, Crowley’s eyes were trained on the hands on Aziraphale’s waist. She looked as though she might strike at the slightest wrong move. “Everything here is so exciting !”

“I’m sure it is.” Tom hummed. “You know, if you ladies really want something exciting… we can show you the American Dream .”

“The American Dream ?” Aziraphale tried not to wince, praying with every ounce of strength that she had that he didn’t mean what she thought he meant.

“Mhm, all you gotta do is follow us over to our rooms at The Plaza.” Tom winked. It sent the entirely wrong kind of shiver down Aziraphale’s spine.

“But we just told you we were married !” Aziraphale gasped. “Shame on you!”

“Oh, it’s fine , Dottie- what would two women be doing in a bar if they didn’t want to wind up in someone else’s bed?” Crowley hummed, her tone now laced with more venom. “If we’re here, we can’t just be two girls having fun- we ought to be unhappy in our marriages and seeking a helping hand. Right, boys?”

“See, she gets it.” Dylan smirked, snaking his hand around her waist and to her front to pull her closer. Aziraphale’s eyes widened with more than just discomfort- with a bonafide sense of horror. “C’mon, darlin’. Relax. Get comfortable. I can feel how tense you are .”

“See, the thing is… we just came for a nice night out. ” Crowley sighed, the act dropped. She snapped, and the men both sported handcuffs, and then again and they were all outside. “A night in the cells for public intoxication won’t teach ‘em a lesson, but it ought to do some good.”

“At the very least it will ensure that they don’t get their hands on anyone else.” Aziraphale nodded, before taking Crowley’s hand and starting to walk away.

“Hey… wait…” One of the men protested. “Dottie… Sadie… I’ll love ya truly!”

“I’ll see you in hell, boys!” Crowley called back, a devilish smirk on her face. “We’re going to have a lot of fun.”

As they walked away from the bar, Aziraphale’s stomach tossed and turned. It lost none of the knots it had acquired through the night. The inequality he’d seen earlier was bad, but that… that confirmed a very scary truth for him: women were seen as objects here. Objects . Things a man could own- whether it be for pleasure, or housework, or cooking. They were possessions. And as possessions, men assumed they were capable of being stolen. It clearly didn’t matter how the woman felt about the matter- they only pretended to give the woman a say, but there were expectations. Aziraphale knew there ought to be a reason that Crowley pulled them back out before the men had gotten angry, and she decidedly did not want to know what that reason was. She feared , based on how touchy they’d gotten at the bars, that it might be violent.

“Oh Crowley… this is awful !” Aziraphale’s eyes started to well with tears. “It’s truly, truly awful.”

“I know, Angel.”Crowley soothed.

“And you knew all of this existed?” Aziraphale sniffed, tears running down her face, smudging her makeup in the process but she didn’t much care.

“Yeah… this entire mission is a formality for me.” Crowley admitted. “I had to do something for the paperwork.”

“How could you stand to be a man after knowing all of this?” Aziraphale choked out through a sob. “It makes me sick !”

“It’s terrible, Aziraphale.” Crowley hummed. “But the best way to make the world better for women is to be a good man, yeah? One that lifts a woman’s voice.”

“I suppose…” Aziraphale considered.

“The issue is, they aren’t being heard- the men won’t hear them.” Crowley sighed. “They’re refusing to change. But if some of us do listen, then… then maybe more will too. It can change.”

“You really think so?” Aziraphale sighed.

“I do.” Crowley hummed. “But you didn’t hear that from me, naturally- I wouldn’t want the world to get better, would I?”

“No… no, of course you wouldn’t.” Aziraphale chuckled softly under her breath.

Aziraphale never wanted to go through anything like that again. There were times in that bar when she had genuinely felt scared for her safety. She’d genuinely worried that those men might try to harm her if she refused them, or force themselves on her. Men were terrifying when you weren’t one of them. How had she never seen this side of Man before? She supposed they were civil with those they saw as equal. To this point, Aziraphale could have been counted in those ranks. This was her first experience outside of that, and for the first time she saw clearly the Beast inside of Man. This had all gone far too far, and the one question on loop in Aziraphale’s mind was whether she could have avoided all of this if she’d seen the signs and reported them to Heaven. She supposed not- she wasn’t sure Heaven would have deemed this issue ‘important’ enough to intervene. This world was in a sad, sad state. She only hoped that it wasn’t too late to turn things around.

————

“No no, I’m not saying there’s an error on God’s part- I would never!” Aziraphale corrected themself in a nervous chuckle. “I’m just saying that… that we may not have properly assessed the risks of allowing the patriarchy to flourish.”

Aziraphale stood in front of a council of Archangels. They way the angels pored into them, it almost felt like they were on trial. They were used to it, though, after so many years of working with them. After an amply eventful night, they were presenting their findings- trying to make the Archangels understand why exactly it was that women made up such a sizeable chunk of Heaven’s human population. The issue with Archangels is that they took everything as criticism - and they didn’t like to be criticized. Needless to say that this was becoming an unnecessarily painful experience.

“The basis of the patriarchy isn’t entirely unfounded, Aziraphale.” Uriel noted. “We made Woman as a companion to Man.”

“Yes- and again, I’m certainly not saying it’s our fault that this happened.” Aziraphale sighed. “But Man… Man has gotten a bit confused . Man isn’t just seeing Woman as unequal. They’re seeing her as something akin to a dog that can also cook, do the housework and bear children.”

“But that’s ridiculous- women clearly aren’t dogs!” Gabriel scoffed.

“I know.” Aziraphale bit their cheek softly ti try and suppress their frustration. “I don’t mean that that’s how they see them with their eyes. I mean that it’s how they perceive women in concept. Man thinks that Woman is able to be possessed, and that she should always be expected to give him exactly what he wants, when he wants it.”

“Oh.” Gabriel finally seemed to understand. “And that’s not good for Woman?”

“ No ! It’s not !” Aziraphale huffed, unable to restrain themself any further. “It puts them in an incredible amount of danger! Woman has next to no rights, no respect! They are being raised to measure their worth in how capable they are if cooking a good dinner! A fulfilling career is rarely an option for Woman, nor is a fulfilling education. And if all that isn’t bad enough, every time Woman walks out the door she is liable to be manhandled, tossed around or worse . So no, when I called Earth a ‘living hell’ for them in my report it was not an exaggeration !”

“Mind your tone, Aziraphale.” Michael warned, one of four cool glares that had trained on the Angelic Ambassador.

“Apologies.” Aziraphale sighed, trying to cool themself off before continuing. “A woman is a terribly frightening thing to be on Earth- and yet the majority take all of their blows in silence. They handle themselves with grace and poise. They do what they’re told with no complaint, when they ought to want to eliminate Man entirely . The fortitude of spirit they must exercise to not simply snap has to be worthy of a high commendation. I’ve no doubt that every woman who walks through the Pearly Gates deserves it.”

“Interesting.” Gabriel nodded shortly. “Well, thanks for filling us in, Aziraphale. Anything we can do for you in the meantime? Anything you need down there?”

“Can Heaven… Can Heaven give Man a nudge in the right direction?” Aziraphale asked timidly. “This can’t keep happening this way. Man has pinned these perceptions on God . Perhaps if we intervened, even in the smallest way…”

“We shall see, Aziraphale.” Uriel hummed, before following as Gabriel, Michael, and an Angel whose name slipped Aziraphale’s mind left the room.

We shall see . That was always what they said when nothing was going to happen. Humanity was going to have to rely on itself to fix the damage that had been done, and from what Aziraphale could gather… that was going to go slowly, if it even happened at all. Maybe there would be a momentary lull in the discrimination, but if Aziraphale had learned one thing from their time on Earth it was that history had the unfortunate habit of repeating itself. They feared that this was all just doomed to happen over and over again. Earth was stuck in a cycle that would never end.

[twixtedspoon]

in my heart they danced to this song through the late 60s. (vers with and without glasses)

[juneytooney]

[nightlyshores]

Aziraphale in the 1960s // Crowley in the 1960s

More closet cosplay fun with my vintage dresses! Thank you Neil for making this almost-canon!

[cryptid-paint]

I’ve seen a lot of artists doing absolutely stunning takes on 60s femme Aziracrow so I wanted to join in as well and draw the wives, they’re going to a little picnic date 😭💖

[queer-reader-07]

“put david tennant in a dress” “put david tennant in a skirt” “we need femme crowley”

HAVE Y’ALL FORGOTTEN SEASON ONE WE ALREADY SAW THIS MAN IN A DRESS AS CROWLEY

crowley was serving gender fluid realness in season 1, we have see our girl (gender neutral) in a dress already!!

don’t get me wrong, i would LOVE to get 60s wives in s3 because i will never say no to more femme aziracrow content. but y’all are acting like he’s only ever wearing pants.

(also they’re both effectively wearing dresses in a lot of the biblical minisodes but i digress)

[anikamercat]

Needed to draw the femme 60’s aziracrow @neil-gaiman mentioned

[d3ad-eye-andy]

"There was supposed to be femme presenting Aziracrow in a 60s minisode" "They've known each other for millions of years" "Aziraphale was gonna confess first before Metatron arrived" This is all getting too much. I need to speak with Neil Gaiman immediately.

[aziraphalesyellowbentley]

60s femme aziracrow my beloved (pls don’t come at me if they look young, I cannot for the life of me make wrinkles look natural 😭)

[rosev1n]

60s femme Aziracrow based on that one neil ask 😳💕

[hyperfigations]

Can't stop thinking about 60s femme Aziracrow and COWBOY WILD WEST AZIRACROW?!?!?! I would literally kill SOOOOO many people for that

[cup-perty]

i have not stopped thinking about 60’s femme aziracrow since neil said that might’ve been in s2 so please enjoy 60’s crowley