#Aziraphale and crowley really did just give up the initial idea having been on earth so long that they actually know what humans are

[inessencedevided]

I think the systematic institutional reform needed in heaven and hell in season 3 should be accomplished by a union drive

It's organised by the lower ranking angels and demons for better working conditions, regular breaks and the right to fraternise with whoever they please

Eventually there's a meeting between the two unions to see how they can support each other's causes

Aziraphale and crowley are in a corner snogging (union solidarity)

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David interview with Maggie Bocella for Collider, 10.7.2013

COLLIDER: Obviously, when you started making this show, you had the book to go off of, you had a very specific framework to work off of. But because everything for Season 2 is new, did you get to have any input with Neil Gaiman on where Crowley goes from the end of Season 1?

DAVID: Oh no, that's not my job. No, I mean, we've got Neil Gaiman, so you just get excited about what direction he's going to send you in. It wouldn't occur to me, to be honest, to start giving Neil Gaiman plot suggestions or character suggestions, that would just be limiting his brilliance, I think, if he was trying to sort of contort his ideas around mine. So no, I just sat back and was excited to let a script ping in and find out what was going to happen next. What a treat to get to be one of the first people to read the continuing adventures of Aziraphale and Crowley.

COLLIDER: In that vein, how do you think Crowley has changed between the end of Season 1 and where we see him now? Can we expect anything significantly different from him this season?

DAVID: Well, as you would expect, he's no longer working for his corporate bosses from Hell, which gives him a certain liberty. He's more of a free agent, but it does mean that they've taken back the swishy apartment that comes with the job. So he’s in slightly diminished circumstances. He's living in his Bentley in his car with his potted plant and feeling slightly hard done by it, I think. But quite early on, we see him meeting with Shax, who's his replacement in the job. So he's keeping his ear to the ground, seeing what's going on, and giving Shax a bit of guidance as to how to be Hell’s representative on Earth and also how to fix the boiler in the apartment. Yes, he's certainly as we always knew him, but probably a little bit grumpier.

COLLIDER: You mentioned the Bentley, and the Bentley being cursed to play Queen songs forever and ever and ever is one of my favorite parts of the show. I was curious what you think Crowley's favorite Queen song, is if he's not so sick of them that he never wants to hear them again.

DAVID: That's a very…wow, that's a difficult question. I need a lot of prep for that. What's my favorite Queen song? I don't know. I mean, “Don't Stop Me Now” is probably the best driving song, isn't it?

COLLIDER:Yeah!

DAVID: And he certainly enjoys driving at ridiculous, slightly supernatural speeds. I suspect that's probably the best soundtrack for that, so it's probably that, or “A Kind of Magic,” I suppose, makes a certain sense for a supernatural being with unearthly powers.

COLLIDER: That's a good answer. But you also work very closely with Michael Sheen, who you not only work with on this but also on Staged, you're quite close. What's it like getting to put that friendship dynamic to use? Especially since this and Staged are so completely different.

DAVID: It's very nice to get to work with a friend every day, you can't pretend it's not. I mean, we did have the pleasure of doing Staged during lockdown, which of course probably wouldn't have happened were it not for us getting to know each other so well on Season 1 of Good Omens. It wasn't so long after the first Good Omens came out that we were all locked in our houses for months on end. We managed to come up with this notion of doing Staged and making a show on our laptops, which, really, we did initially just to amuse ourselves, to see if it was possible. Then it ended up becoming more. We just [premiered] Series 3, so between the first season of Good Omens and the second season of Good Omens, we managed to do three seasons of something else together!

COLLIDER: This show has had such a massive fan response. How much of that are you really aware of? Are you seeing how people are reacting to this show?

DAVID: Oh, it's been quite overwhelming. I've been to a few Comic-Cons over the last few years, and when I visited them pre-Good Omens, I saw a lot of people dressed up as me from…another show. But that has slowly changed until the amount of Doctors and the amount of Crowleys I meet are certainly neck and neck these days. But what's lovely about the Crowleys and the Aziraphales is they always come in pairs, so you get to meet people who've got all dressed up often with their best mates.

That's one of the great joys of being involved in this show, that these characters are so beloved. And of course, the great honor of taking on something like that, a character that people are so enthusiastic about, is that the great terror is that you'll break it, that you won't be… I think, especially with a literary character, the act of reading a book is such an internal mental spell that you cast, isn't it? Those characters are almost more vivid than a character that you might see on screen. So embodying characters that have been so loved for so long, not breaking them, not, you know, crushing dreams… The way that we've been accepted by those fandoms, it's been quite humbling, to be honest.

COLLIDER: You're also part of another Neil Gaiman joint, you play Loki in The Sandman audio series. Obviously, that's a different medium, but are there any similarities between working on The Sandman and working on Good Omens?

DAVID: The Gaimanverse is certainly its own creation, but Good Omens is always slightly different, of course, because it wasn't just Neil, it was very much co-created by Terry Pratchett, who also had a very distinctive voice and a distinctive universe. But there's something very specific about the Good Omens universe, which is where these two very distinct, very vivid authorial voices blend together to create something very specific and quite unique. So, I don't know how similar it was being part of The Sandman. I mean, it was a great pleasure to be part of it. It was wonderful to make Loki come from Scotland as well. I think Tom Hiddleston should take some notes. There's nothing better than a Glasgow Norse god. I’m kidding, obviously, he is the definitive Loki, but I did my best to sort of, you know, target his coattails.

COLLIDER: Besides Good Omens and Staged, you are coming back to Doctor Who this year. It's all anybody I know can talk about, but obviously, the spoiler police will come and get me if I attempt to talk to you about too much. So if you could describe what audiences are gonna see in November in, like, three words, what three words would you use?

DAVID: Three words? Three words?! Three new stories. That's not very good, is it? That doesn't give you very much away. Neil Patrick Harris! There you go.

[meltingpenguins]

The biggest issue with Show!Omens really is that it's made for the... broadest... audience. The people that rejoice at not having to think even remotely about the media they consume, the people that will just dully parrot whatever the creators tell them about how to interpret something.

Which is just... rude and, in context of Good Omens, an antithesis to everything Pratchett. One of the great things about Sir Terry was and is that he's on eye level with his audience, that he doesn't write in a 'holier-than-thou' way as some authors unfortunately do. There's a deep-seated and very humane respect towards the audience with his writing, something that since s1, actually, feels kinda absent from the show.

Now, the book is not perfect. It has its bits and bobs that weren't in best taste already back when (e.g. the whole bit about Pestilence retiring while IRL we had the height of the AIDS crisis) and things that didn't age too well (Anathema and Newt banging, anyone?), but not only does not one such point feel as if it stems from malice, it's also all bits that can be altered without affecting the plot.

So, how come the show manages to keep so much that should/could have been altered but changed things that should not be touched?

How come there's now this air of disdain towards the audience's intelligence?

From the setting change (from the late 20th to early 21 century) that would negate so many parts (e.g. Why on God's green Earth, pardon my French, does Crowley have an ansaphone from the 90s? Why did he apparently never give Aziraphale his mobile number?*) to personality changes (cross your heart, show!Crowley hates Earth and humans, no matter what cast and crew tell us to think) to the worst change, that of the central theme.

The books central theme did deconstruct the whole 'chosen one' and fate, destiny, great men of history idea. The show goes and very much declares Crowley the ultimate chosen one, the man(-shape being) with a plan who can't do wrong and who will always save the day by virtue of existing.

Why? Because it sells better, according to the marketing department? Is that it? Where's the antique pier and the miniature town then?

I... just want to understand Why all of this happened.

*Which is another sign that show!crowley doesn't trust/like/know Aziraphale. In the book, Aziraphale initially dials the wrong number (the one going to the ansaphone) cause it's very very likely that Crowley only recently got a new landline, and Az is still used to the old number. Ansaphones are also a new thing, so of course he'd be confused by it. It's not stupidity as the show makes it out to be, but honest confusion at a piece of technology he hadn't encountered yet. We can even assume that he did remember hearing about ansaphones and figuring that that is what that was, and then he remembers crowley gave him a new phone number. This means book!Crowley trusts and likes Aziraphale enough to give him the number that is more likely to have him pick up. show!crowley however? He could Aziraphale given his mobile number, but didn't. Why? And no, 'because they are constantly together/crowley is always at home' if that's the case, show!crowley, who by s2 canonically only has aziraphale as friend, has a mobile phone TO call az, but not get called by the angel. That's... a little icky...

[itsclydebitches]

Hi! I was just watching good omens and I came up with some questions, but I didn't know whom to ask, so I was digging around for go analysis blogs and found you. *takes a breath* So, I was wondering if you had any thoughts on why Heaven's camera angles are the way they are. I noticed that, in heaven, the camera tends to focus on the characters' heads specifically, so they fill most of the screen. Either it's a meta reason or a reference to something (like Newt with the Office) that I'm not getting. That's the main thing, but I've also wondered why exactly Aziraphale uses the verb "fraternize" in the 19th century. It seemed an odd pivot from caring about Crowley's safety to Heaven's rules. Thanks so much!

Hello! Omg yes, let's talk Good Omens cinematography.

First, the obligatory Analysis Disclaimer: I doubt there's a specific interpretation that you're just not getting, some singular, "correct" reading of the scene(s). Two years past release, I'm positive the fandom as a whole has come up with plenty of ideas (I mostly hang on the periphery. I'm far from up to date with GO meta), but any and all of it will, by nature, be subjective. Thus, all I can offer is my own, personal interpretation.

So for me? It's about intimacy.

Not intimacy in the sense of friendship, but rather the broad idea of closeness. Confidentiality. Emotion. Knowledge. Understanding by means of literally getting into the thick of these conversations. I love the camerawork in Heaven (and elsewhere) because the camera itself acts like a person — an additional party to these interactions. And, since we're the ones watching this show via the camera, it makes it feel as if we're peeking into scenes that are otherwise private. Obviously all cinematography does this to a certain extent, the camera is always watching someone or something without acknowledging that we're doing the watching (outside of documentary-esque filmmaking), but GO uses angles and closeups to mimic another person observing these scenes, someone other than the characters involved.

The easiest example I can give here is when Michael makes their call to Ligur. Here, the camera is positioned up on the next landing of the staircase, as if we're sneaking a look down at this otherwise secret call. There's even a moment when the camera pans to the right to look at them through the gap in the railing, briefly obscuring Michael from our view.

Here, a standard expectation of any scene — keep your character in focus — is done away with to instead mimic the movements of someone actually hiding in the stairwell, listening in on the conversation. It creates that feeling of intimacy, as if we're really there with Michael, not just watching Michael through a screen. The camerawork acts like a person overhearing an illicit conversation prior to falling back on mid/closeup shots. We're spying on them.

To give a non-Heaven example, the camera helps us connect with Aziraphale during Gabriel's jogging scene. It's hard to show through screenshots, but if you re-watch you'll see that the camera initially keeps them both in the frame with full body shots, allowing us to compare things like Gabriel's unadorned gray workout clothes with Aziraphale's more stylish outfit; one's good jogging form and the other's awkward shuffle. However, this distance also creates the sense that we're jogging with them, we're keeping pace.

That is, until Aziraphale begins to lag. Then the camera lags too, giving them both the chance to catch up, so to speak.

Until, finally, Aziraphale has to stop completely and the camera, of course, stops with him. We're emotionally attuned to Aziraphale, not Gabriel, and the camerawork reflects that. Even more-so when we cut to a low shot of Gabriel's annoyed huff at having to stop at all, making him appear larger and more imposing. Because to Aziraphale, he is.

This work carries over into Heaven's other scenes. The closeups are pretty much a given since, whether it's Gabriel realizing Aziraphale has been "fraternizing" with Crowley (more on that below!), or Aziraphale choosing to go back to Earth, the scenes in Heaven are incredibly important to the narrative. Closeups allow the viewer to get a good read on each character's emotional state — focusing on minute facial changes as opposed to overall body language — and that fly-on-the-wall feeling is increased as we literally get an up close and personal look at these pivotal moments.

Compare a shot like this one of Gabriel to the line of angels ready for battle. We don't get closeups on any of their faces because their emotions aren't important. Yes, that's in part because they're background characters, not main characters, but a lack of emotion — their willingness to enter this war without question — is also the point of their presence in this scene. So they remain a semi-identical, nearly faceless mass that runs off into infinity down that hallway, not any individual whose inner life we get a peek at via a closeup.

I particularly like Aziraphale's conversation with the angel... general? Idk what to call this guy. He's just gonna be Mustache Angel. But, getting back on track, his scene has a lot of over the shoulder shots which, admittedly, are pretty common. From a practical perspective they're used to help the audience situate both characters in the scene — you're here, you're there, this is how you're spaced during this conversation — but it can also help emphasize that closeness between them. Keeping both characters in the shot connects them and though Aziraphale and Mustache Angel definitely aren't on the same page here, those shots help cue us in to the unwanted intimacy of this moment. They're both angels... even though Aziraphale no longer aligns himself with them. They're both soldiers in a war... but Aziraphale will not fight. This angel has a list of Aziraphale's secrets, including that he once had a flaming sword and lost it... but Aziraphale doesn't want to admit those circumstances to him. This angel wouldn't understand, even if he did. Intimacy here, connection and closeness, is something discomforting because Aziraphale can no longer embrace those similarities. They put him (and us) out of sorts, so when we get them both in frame, that connection creates tension, not relief.

And many of those over the shoulder shots are given sharp angels, or the camera is placed too close to the "off screen" party. Compare a shot like Luke and Rey to Aziraphale and Mustache Angel. Here, Luke is a clean, solid line on the left side of the screen, just enough there to cue us in to where he is in relationship to Ray, In contrast, Mustache Angel's mustache is Too Close and proves rather distracting. Rey and Luke are connecting here over being Jedi with responsibilities to uphold (or at least, Luke will acknowledge that connection later lol); Mustache Angel is forcing a connection with Aziraphale that makes everyone uncomfortable.

We are too close to him here. He feels too close to Aziraphale too. This whole conversation is upsetting and discomforting, pushing Aziraphale to finally choose which side he's on (his own with Crowley). The shots aren't meant to subtly keep the audience from getting lost and then otherwise be unobtrusive, we're supposed to be Very Aware of this angel's body and how close he's getting to the character we've come to identify with — both literally (he's leaning in) and in terms of forcing Aziraphale to finally make his choice.

When Mustache Angel marches forward and gets all up in Aziraphale's face, the camera positions itself behind Aziraphale in a way that makes it feel like we're hiding behind him, with Aziraphale taking up far more of the screen than Luke does. Like the scene with Michael or running with Gabriel, the camera often likes to mimic a "realistic" response to these events. This angry, shouty angel is getting closer, best take a step back and stay out of sight behind Aziraphale, holding his ground.

These closeups also serve as a nice contrast to the wide and longshots we get of Heaven. It's an imposing place with skyscrapers in the distance, lots of steel, immaculate floors, and endless white. It's overwhelming and it's cold. But then we cut to those mid-shots of Gabriel and Michael, telling us that they're in control of it all.

Aziraphale? Aziraphale is not in control. Not now, anyway. When he appears in Heaven we get a longshot to show off this endless void and he's just another, tiny speck in it. If he weren't flailing around — an acting move that likewise helps sell how out of his depth he is — it's unlikely you'd even notice him. Aziraphale's clothing and hair blends in perfectly with the background. He's forgettable. Easily overlooked. Someone to underestimate. And when he moves, he has to come to the camera. We don't cut to Aziraphale to establish control like we do with Gabriel. He's left to awkwardly shuffle up to Mustache Angel until he's finally come into view.

Yet when Aziraphale makes his decision, he aligns himself with the brightest, most colorful, most interesting thing in the room: Earth. Earth, with all its messy individuality, is the antithesis to Heaven's controlled uniformity and a bright blue orb hanging in the midst of all this white helps remind us of that. Aziraphale rejects becoming one of the identical soldiers and instead literally reaches out for the one thing in Heaven that doesn't fit in.

When he leaves, we get an extreme closeup for the first time. Mustache Angel is pissed and as such we not only get a good look at his face in the aftermath of Aziraphale's choice, but that extreme closeup on his mouth as he's shouting too. It's like he's shouting directly at us, the viewer who is currently cheering on Aziraphale's decision. There's a war, dammit... but we don't care. Not in the way he cares, anyway.

So there's a lot! And I could probably go on, but apparently I'm only allowed to add 10 images per post now (tumblr what the actual fuck if anyone knows a way around this please share!) and I've already had to merge a bunch of images like an animal. So let's awkwardly finish up with the duck pond scene.

...without a GIF because they apparently count as images too 🙃

Simply put, I don't think Aziraphale bringing up fraternizing is a pivot from one to the other — from caring about Crowley to caring about Heaven's rules. I mean yes, Aziraphale is lagging behind Crowley in terms of rebellion and a part of him is, at this point, absolutely concerned with how he'll come across to the higherups, but that worry doesn't stem solely from a (now very shaky) desire to obey for the sake of obeying. The thing is, Aziraphale's disobedience is, by default, also Crowley's disobedience. If they're friends and they're ever found out, they'll both get in trouble. Which, we know from the end of Season One, basically means being wiped from existence. That's horrifying! And it's a horror that threatens them both. I don't think Aziraphale cares about rules for the sake of rules; after all, he started off by giving away his sword, lying to God, is currently meeting with Crowley anyway... this angel has always ignored/bent the rules — established and implied — that don't suit him. Rather, he cares about the rules if he thinks they have a chance of being enforced. If there will be consequences for breaking and bending them. This is still about caring for Crowley (as well as saving his own, angelic skin). If they're found out, Crowley dies. And, as we the viewer learn, Heaven was indeed observing them that whole time. There was always legitimate risk attached to this relationship. Aziraphale's fear, hesitance, and at times forceful pleas to stop this stem as much from Aziraphale worrying about Crowley's safety as they do a learned instinct to obey the rules without question. He pushes to end the relationship because the relationship threatens the only thing Aziraphale cares about more than that: Crowley himself.

As for the term "fraternizing," that's a loaded one! I won't go into a whole history lesson here, but suffice to say it has military roots: to sympathize as brothers with an opponent. That is literally what Crowley and Aziraphale are doing. They are an angel and a demon, supposedly innate enemies, supposedly poised for an inevitable war... yet they've formed an incredibly strong kinship. They've both learned to love their enemy, the thing every army fears because, well, then your army won't fight (just as Aziraphale won't). However, beyond the enemy implications, "to fraternize" eventually took on a sexual meaning: to not merely love as a brother, but to lay with the enemy too, usually women from enemy countries (because, you know, heteronormativity). Nowadays, "to fraternize" often implies a sexual component. I've been rewatching The Good Wife lately and in one subplot, the State's Attorney cracks down on fraternization in his office. He doesn't mean his employees are forming bonds with assumed enemies, he means his employees are having sex on his office couch. So Aziraphale's phrasing here carries a LOT of weight. He's both reminding Crowley of their stations in the world — you are a demon, I am an angel, us meeting like this can have formal, irrevocable consequences for us both — as well as, given the fact that this is a love story, drawing attention to the depth of this relationship. They love one another, as more than just friends. Though whether Crowley's scathing "Fraternizing?" is a response to Aziraphale falling back on the technicalities of their positions, or acknowledging a love he's yet to overtly admit and commit to — or both! — is definitely up for debate.

[kittyknowsthings]

A Nice and Accurate Timeline of the Apocalypse (and its Aftermath)

As shown on the Good Omens TV show

Happy birthday to me, a gift for myself and the entire Good Omens fandom.

MONDAY

Hastur and Ligur check on the Hellhound

Warlock and his mother argue about his birthday party while Aziraphale and Crowley watch.

Crowley suggests Aziraphale could kill Warlock. Aziraphale suggests they go to the birthday party instead.

WEDNESDAY

Warlock's (and Adam's) 11th birthday

3 pm - Hastur and Ligur let out the Hellhound

Sufficient time later for a thorough cake fight:

Aziraphale and Crowley have to admit they've got the wrong boy since the Hellhound, who should be there by now, is not showing up.

(The Hellhound had to get to Tadfield instead of London, it's a bit of a trip, I suppose, since it must be some time later when:) The Hellhound arrives in Hogback Wood between 3pm and 5:00pm, assuming Agnes Nutter and Deirdre Young define teatime the same, but with definitely enough time for

Crowley (back in his usual outfit) and Aziraphale (who had time to get changed and wash the cake off) to have decided to have a drink over their failure at Aziraphale's bookshop (where they have returned, presumably by car, though to be fair, the Ambassador's residence to Soho, which is about 3 miles, at Crowley's typical speed is a matter of a couple of minutes, really) when Crowley announces the Hellhound has been named

Newton is fired, meets Shadwell, is told to show up at his place at 11 o'clock the day after

Anathema is implied to arrive in the UK either Wednesday or Thursday, but a bit difficult to nail down - did they show it chronologically, in which case Anathema arrived before Newton meets Shadwell, or did they alternate the scenes to juxtapose Anathema and Newton more clearly, but Anathema's outfit, make-up and hairstyle are still the same when we see her move into the cottage on Thursday

THURSDAY

Gabriel and Sandalphon show up on Aziraphale's shop to corner him

(The scriptbook implies Crowley stayed at the shop through the night and is only now sneaking out, nearly caught by the Archangels, but it wasn't shown, so follow your bliss.)

Hastur and Ligur check in with Crowley and say their "operatives in the State Department" have arranged for the boy to be flown to the Middle East

The Postman delivers the Sword

Anathema moves into Jasmine Cottage in Tadfield and gets to work

Crowley threatens his plants

Aziraphale is on the phone with someone who wants to buy the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter

Newton comes to Shadwell's and is initiated so we can assume it is now 11 o'clock

Aziraphale calls Crowley with the idea to check the convent, they take the Bentley together 

(If we're assuming 90 mph is Crowley's standard speed, and Tadfield is in about the middle of Oxfordshire, we can assume it took them about 40 minutes. So, either they left later, or Crowley actually bothered to slow down on occassion.)

Anathema meets the Them while scrying for the Antichrist

Aziraphale and Crowley meet Mary Hodges, interrogate her, and ignore the police blockade to leave the former convent at sunset

Shortly after, Anathema is scrying by yet a third method (poor girl)

Anathema's bike and Crowley's Bentley collide, they give her a ride

by the time they arrive at Jasmine cottage, it is fully dark

Anathema has a video chat with her mom

Aziraphale and crowley discuss the possibility of asking a human for help with locating the antichrist over cake

Adam is starting to be reached out to when asleep by infernal forces

Back in front of the bookshop, Aziraphale finds the book and blows off Crowley to read it

FRIDAY Crowley calls Aziraphale to check in

If we are assuming Aziraphale's office clock is correct, it is about 6:45 am when he calls the Young's home phone, the Young parents are having breakfast, and Adam is training Dog

Aziraphale attempts to script an explanation to Gabriel

Anathema invites Adam in

Crowley meets with Shadwell

Aziraphale meets with the Archangels and realizes they have no intention of averting the war, Michael states "The other side are currently transporting [Warlock] to the plains of Megiddo"

Aziraphale claims, to the Archangels, not to be sure about the Antichrist's location even though we saw his notes on the matter include his address

Aziraphale calls in Shadwell, who ignores Newton's quite accurate recognition of the oddness of Oxfordshire's weather

The scales are delivered to Famine

At about 7pm, Crowley calls Aziraphale and suggests the meeting at the Bandstand in "15 minutes"

(When they are actually meeting, it's sunset, but given filming schedules and stuff, I will leave it to you if you decide Aziraphale is really late or the sunset is just early)

During the night, Adam starts actively affecting reality

SATURDAY

Aziraphale intercepts Gabriel jogging at Battersea Park

Michael presents pictures and gets Gabriel's tacit permission to check in downstairs about Aziraphale and Crowley and calls Ligur

Crowley goes over possible escape locations 

Lesley delivers the crown to Pollution (the sun is still rising) and the message that it's time to Death

Newton gets sworn in by Shadwell and sent off to Tadfield, he has the accident Ligur talks to Hastur who is supposed to be leaving for Megiddo about his suspicions of Crowley, they decide to find proof

Hastur gets to Megiddo

Anathema is well-prepared for Newton's arrival

5 hours and 48 minutes to the end of the World

Newton wakes up

The Them separate for lunch, agreeing to meet up again after

Warlock is at Megiddo Hastur confronts Crowley, who was having  a pity party at a cinema

Anathema catches Newt up, it's about 13:15, and "about 4 hours and 15 minutes" to the apocalypse

Crowley tries again to convince Aziraphale to come with him, fails 

Sets up the holy water booby trap

Crowley melts Ligur

Aziraphale appears to have taken a short walk to clear his head, as he is on his way back to the bookshop when he is accosted by the Archangels and the horn is sounded

Adam is starting to really scare his friends

13:30

Anathema and Newton are about to leave, but are stopped by a storm

They start making out under the bed

When the pin in the map starts sizzling, Shadwell realizes he may have sent Newton into danger, and Tracey convinces him to go after him, but Shadwell refuses her money and instead resolves to ask Aziraphale for an Advance

Newton has scruples and asks if he shouldn't buy anathema dinner first, but she quickly dissuades him

Aziraphale contacts Heaven in a last-ditch attempt to ask Her for help, the Metatron quashes his last hopes of Heaven's assistance

Shadwell goes to Aziraphale's shop, sees the late end of the Metatron bit through the letter flap,

Aziraphale calls Crowley but Crowley hangs up on him to deal with Hastur.

Shadwell picks the lock

and Aziraphale, trying to keep Shadwell safe, accidentally steps into the circle, discorporating himself.

Shadwell slams the door on his hasty way out, shaking the ground hard enough to kick over one of the candles in the communication circle setting the shop on fire.

Parallel to this, Crowley finished dealing with Hastur and makes his way to Aziraphale

14:30

Crowley, on his way to Aziraphale's shop, tries to call Aziraphale,

the store is already very on fire

Crowley goes in and tries to find Aziraphale, rescues the book

Adam announces his "new" friends - the horsemen - will be together soon and are on their way

Shadwell arrives back home and is put to bed by Madam Tracey

Aziraphale argues with the Quartermaster and decides to go back to Earth without a body if he has to

4 pm -

Anathema is getting dressed again

Crowley has gotten really quite drunk, having downed an entire bottle of Talisker and asking the bartender for a second by this point

Aziraphale finds him at the bar

The Seance starts

The Horsemen meet up at the café

Aziraphale crashes the Séance and quickly wraps it up so he can get Tracey up to speed

1 hour and 43 minutes to the apocalypse

Crowley is stuck in the traffic jam due to the M25

Shadwell wakes up, Madame Tracey and Aziraphale make him tea

The M25 lights up with Crowley still inside

Lisa from the call center accidentally frees Hastur, who thanks her by eating her and her colleagues

Aziraphale recruits Shadwell, who packs the Thunder Gun

Hastur appears in the car, prompting him to brave the fire out of sheer spite

Adam chases away Dog and the Them, whose rejection makes him snap back to himself. They resolve to stop what Adam started, and to "meet back in 5 minutes"

Anathema and Newt figure out they have to go to the airbase

Aziraphale makes the scooter fly

The Horsemen arrive through the official entrance, pretending to be a surprise inspection

Anathema and Newt sneak in through a hole in the fence a fallen tree has made

Adam and the Them meet up again

31 minutes to the end of the world

RP Tyler delays the Them 

The Horsemen take over the base, starting ... everything, basically

17 minutes to the Apocalypse

after asking RP Tyler for directions, Crowley hurries

The Scooter reaches the airbase

Aziraphale argues with the airbase

Crowley arrives making his heroic entrance

(of course Adam and his friends do the real work)

The Bentley explodes

Aziraphale sends off the guard off while Crowley is having a moment

Crowley takes care of the next load of soldiers

When the Sergeant chickens out, Aziraphale attempts to use the gun on Adam, but Tracey stops him

Pepper, Brian and Wensleydale take out War, Pollution and Famine

Newt breaks the system by trying to fix it 

Adam confronts Death

Anathema and Newt walk on

Crowley returns the book

Aziraphale receives the prophecy

Gabriel and Beelzebub arrive

Aziraphale and Crowley rules-lawyer them into cancelling the war

Satan shows up

Aziraphale threatens Crowley to never talk to him again, so Crowley stops time, giving Adam enough time to think

Adam rejects Satan, declaring that that is not his father, so Arthur Young appears

After Nightfall, Aziraphale and Crowley wait for the bus, sharing a bottle of wine

Lesley picks up the horsemen's items

Aziraphale and Crowley take each other's hand as they sit down in the bus

SUNDAY

Crowley, already in Aziraphale's body, investigates the restored bookshop

Aziraphale, in Crowley's appearance, is happy to find the Bentley restored

Anathema and Newton wake up together

Crowley and Aziraphale meet at the park and are abducted for each other's trials.

Madame Tracey and Sergeant Shadwell agree to retire together

Agnes has the next book delivered

Anathema decides to burn it

The Them check in on Adam, who is sure he'll be grounded for "years and years", but his parents will have forgotten by tomorrow - his powers to affect reality do not seem entirely gone.

Summer is ending.

Crowley and Aziraphale are sitting on a park bank, they swap back and agree to go to Lunch

They dine at the Ritz to romantic music and toast To the World.

[degenerate-perturbation]

Ultimate Good Omens Fic Recommendations

I read the entire AO3 archive. I started sometime in November 2018 and read all the way back to 1999. I did not read every story, but I tried. Here are my recommendations.

(Most Good Omens fic is very good, which is why I bothered to read the entire archive instead of just scrolling through the first few pages, despairing, and giving up, which is what I usually do when I read fanfiction. So if your fic is not here, congratulations! I probably still read it and liked it but this post is already very long.)

My Absolute Top Favorites

Deus Ex Machina by clockwork_spider -  Angels really aren't the most sentimental bunch, so when Crowley was escorted back to Hell, Aziraphale's initial reaction was to do nothing. But let it be known that God moves in ineffable ways.

Tryst On a Hot Church Roof by Macdicilla -  Crowley has some fantasies. Aziraphale encourages him to explore them and not to be embarrassed. Neither of them can really take roleplay seriously but they still have a good time.

Re-Recalled by Jennistar -  Halfway through an argument, Aziraphale gets accidentally discorporated and doesn't come back. Crowley does the sensible thing and panics.

The love that dare not speak its name by Lunasong365, sous_le_saule  -  London, late nineteenth century. Aziraphale finds that time moves slowly while waiting for Crowley to wake up. Meeting Oscar Wilde should break the monotony. But perhaps it will bring more of a change than the angel anticipated…

Safe Haven by JAMoczo -  A remix of Prodigal Son: January 1945; Aziraphale has a crisis of Faith.

(The rest below the cut, in convenient categories)

General

Five Things That Never Happened To Aziraphale by imperfectcircle - Five things.

Down to the Earth with Violence by Daegaer -  Crowley and Aziraphale meet after the end of the world.

Coming to an Arrangement by Daegaer  - The long, slow path to the Arrangement.

Act of Redemption by copperbadge -  After the world failed to end, Crowley got depressed.

Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot by xylodemon -  In which Crowley starts over. Again, and again, and again.

A Few Conversations, Which are Mostly Related to Christmas by xylodemon - In which there is cocoa, conversation, and more Christmas cheer than Crowley think is strictly necessary.

The Ghost and A. J. Crowley by Argyle -  A heartwarming tale of grisly ghost plants and fearsome floral apparitions. Has Crowley finally met his match? Will Aziraphale come to the rescue? And just how difficult is it to remove dirt stains from white carpet?

Five Meetings (Steps in the Fall and Rise to Grace) by icarus_chained -  GO Noir AU. Bad things are brewing in the City of Angels, and one tired ex-cop is stuck in the middle of it.

How to Make Friends and Influence Flora aka Radio Four Never Mentioned This by WinterEyes -  The Fear of Crowley isn't all it's cracked up to be

Suntne Angeli? by Macdicilla -  Adam answers the question of whether angels need to eat and drink, and accidentally creates a major change in the (pants) fabric of reality.

Field Agents by Lunasong365, sous_le_saule -  How did ‘Human’ Resources (both Demonic and Angelic) recruit Crawly and Aziraphale to be field agents? Is it a coincidence that they both found themselves back on Earth after leaving the Garden of Eden?

The Devil Went Down to Georgia by ImprobableDreams900 -  Now Crowley went down to Georgia, he was looking for a soul to steal, cause he was in a bind and way behind and he was willing to make a deal.

Major Failings by irisbleufic -  It was quick and messy, the sort of thing that took you off-guard no matter how many beheadings, torture stints, and vivisections you'd seen otherwise. Actually, Crowley wasn't certain how many of any of those he'd actually seen. He tended to lower his eyes or look away at the last second. This was also a major failing in a demon.

Pre-Relationship

Gavotte by bunnyfication -  Crowley sleeps a decade or a few, and suddenly Aziraphale is dressing fashionably? And asking him to a dance at a club with a "select clientele"? Clearly something is amiss.

Something About Flamingos by Plumbeo -  Aziraphale and Crowley have a petty, stupid, pointless fight. After four days of not talking to each other, the angel decides to break the silence - in an equally stupid way.

it giveth light unto all in the house (the let's have some wine remix) by pocky_slash -  There's loving Crowley the way he loves their waiter at the café and the ducks in St. James Park and linzer tarts and there's—well.

growing season by ghostsoldier - In which Aziraphale kills plants, and Crowley is a generous sort of demon.

Afternoons and Espresso Spoons by Kirathaune

Home by LysanderandHermia - Crowley has a realization, and it's about the angel drooling on the couch while he sleeps.

Sweet Dreams, Angel! by sous_le_saule -  Aziraphale’s never been able to sleep. Crowley takes up the challenge.

Be Ye Therefore Merciful by AmberDiceless -  Crowley does something utterly unexpected, and Aziraphale must face an opponent who cannot be thwarted.

Saunter by Aria -  There is nothing to do but feel out of sorts, disjointed and slightly askew from the world, and watch as Aziraphale absently eats the apple, the world's hundred millionth apple, symbolic of nothing at all.

They Get Together In These Ones

And when he falls by torch -  There are many ways to celebrate having avoided the apocalypse.

The Member of the Wedding by Aja - Crowley comes to a realization.

Survivors' Guilt / For All the World by irisbleufic -  It was a dark and stormy night, and nobody was enjoying it.

Goodbody by copperbadge -  Aziraphael's new body is causing some problems.

Sunday (Or the First Day Of the Rest of Their Lives) by pollitt -  Sunday at the park

Under Cover by bliumchik -  There's a new little problem in Tadfield...

An Excellent Long-Term Solution by Beth H (bethbethbeth) - In which Hell seems more forgiving than Heaven, Aziraphale seems to have got himself into a bit of a pickle, and Crowley seems to have come up with the perfect solution, almost all on his own.

Firebird: III. Finale by htebazytook -  "In the background Crowley and Aziraphale met on the tops of buses, and in art galleries, and at concerts, compared notes, and smiled."

Old Fashioned by htebazytook -  Hell has changed.

Very Complicated Solitaire by htebazytook

Ordinary People (The Anything But Ordinary Remix) by cimorene  -  Crowley has started to take a proprietary interest in Aziraphale's bookshop.

The Speck in the London Eye by Vulgarweed -  A hot dame, a missing youth, a quirky consultant—and much much more than meets the eye at stake. Private Investigator A.J. Crowley just might be in over his head this time.

TwoFish by Grindylowe -  A love story about angels and demons. Also, fish.  

Snowy Evenings by htebazytook -  Five times Crowley couldn't stand the snow, and one time he could.

A Peculiar Sensation by Elvendork -  It happens at the Ritz: Aziraphale comes to a startling realistion, but takes it in his stride remarkably well.

As Above, So Below by JenTheSweetie - Crowley and Aziraphale talk, drink, complete paperwork, drink, fall asleep with abandon, drink, and do other stuff (maybe). And drink.

Modern Love by punkfaery -  Crowley, Aziraphale, and a series of religious buildings.

A Backwards Proposal by HoloXam -  An encounter with a bride-to-be puts an idea in Aziraphale's head. Crowley doesn't react very well.

Post-Relationship

Recall by busaikko -  RECALL: 1. To ask or order to return; 2. To summon back to awareness; 3. To remember; recollect.

That Subtle Knot by apple_pi -  I wonder. Does an angel get his wings when the bell is set off by a demon?

Never Mind the Gravitation by Argyle -  Sure, there's life on Mars. But Crowley can hardly call it living.

Flamingos by Interrobam -  "Las Vegas, Crowley had always maintained, was technically Aziraphale's fault." Crowley and Aziraphale go to Las Vegas, contemplate the history of civilization and the meaning of existence.

Snapshots by mirawonderfulstar -  Five photographs on the wall of Aziraphale’s shop.

A Resort By Any Other Name by TheLifeOfEmm -  Or in which Crowley and Aziraphale go on holiday, but have a bit of trouble with the weather.

Hell's Bells (Wedding Bells) by Macdicilla -  Hell finds out that Aziraphale and Crowley are together, and eventually Heaven does too. Hell sends its [unwelcome] congratulations.

Categorization by SleepsWithCoyotes -  Crowley calls 'em like he sees 'em.

Black Dog by HoloXam -  In which Crowley feels bad and Aziraphale makes tea.

The Flame No Dampness Dulls by mirawonderfulstar -     Aziraphale doesn't understand why Crowley's spent the last two months trying to seduce him when the demon hasn't ever shown any interest in sex.

heaven is a place where nothing ever happens by Contra -  After the end of the world, there comes a new morning.

These Ones Have Sex

Lethe For Two by SleepsWithCoyotes -  A visit from the Angel of Oblivion sounds pretty ominous, doesn't it?

Monday, Half Past Four by TruckThat -  Crowley decides that almost any course of action is justified if it manages to distract him from the fact that it's been nearly two days and so far nothing else is going wrong.

The Reason for the Season by Vulgarweed -  Adam and Pepper, now married with children of their own, worry that their kids might be losing some of the magic of the season. Adam calls in a little favour from some old friends - with a nice little bonus that's in it for them.

No Such Thing by irisbleufic -  "You mean [Agnes] was trying to reassure us the whole time that the world wasn't, in fact, going to end?"

Historical

Casual as Birds by apple_pi -  Aziraphale and Crowley in London, 1944.

New Day (The Dreaming of You Remix) by Daegaer -  Ettore dreams of friendship and love.

The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by Argyle - The Devil has all the best tunes. (London, 1940)

Theatrical Sins: A Play in Three Acts by Aria -  "What did you do?" Crowley asked in horror, the first time he saw Aziraphale after sleeping away most of the nineteenth century.

Natural Laws by Argyle -  Every object in the Universe attracts every other object. (Lincolnshire, 1665)

Species, Origins by bliumchik -  A prehistoric chat.

Lessons in Falling by Argyle -  You never forget how. (London, 1866/1899)

The Visible Universe by Argyle -  It was not a remarkable day. (England, 1928)

How Crowley Saved Christmas by such_heights -  It was 1842, and Aziraphale really didn’t want to do it.

Letters by inabathrobe for miss_narla -  Aziraphale and Crowley burn letters and bridges.

Myths Will Be Myths by palavreado -  Aziraphale says goodbye to an old friend.

On Transmutation (and Tortoises) by Vermin_Disciple -  c. 1859. In which Aziraphale reads the latest bestseller, and he and Crowley take a trip to the Galapagos.  

i wanted to hurt you but the victory is that i could not stomach it by gyzym

Three Times Aziraphale Was Almost Too Much Of A Bastard To Be Worth Liking by feverbeats -  They have to stop meeting like this.

Safe Haven by JAMoczo -  A remix of Prodigal Son: January 1945; Aziraphale has a crisis of Faith.

In der H'lle by Copinggoggles -  Snapshot in the trenches.

Hell Is Empty by bemusedlybespectacled (ardentintoxication) -  Crowley goes to investigate this Inquisition he supposedly helped to start and finds Aziraphale instead.

And All The Devils Are Here by bemusedlybespectacled (ardentintoxication) -  Aziraphale is taken in by the Inquisition for witchcraft and finds help from an unexpected source.

The Widening Gyre by Vulgarweed -  In the spring of 1916, some in London and Dublin were fighting a war on two fronts. Three, if you include the heart. (Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of it.)

Bacchanalia by furchte_die_schildkrote -  The first time Crowley was kissed by an angel, Aziraphale had wine on his breath, a nearly full moon hung in the sky, and Rome was burning.

Carmina Burana by Lunasong365 - Carmina Burana has been described as: Profane. Sensual. Irreverent. Satirical of religion.So why was its source text discovered in a monastery?

The Fourteenth Century by Elsinore_and_Inverness -  An Angel, a Demon and the Crisis of the Late Middle Ages

“O Serpent heart… Fiend Angelical, Dove Feather Raven” -William Shakespeare (R&J, 3.2.74-76) by Elsinore_and_Inverness -  'There are no sonnets immortalizing a demon with eyes like the sun. This is probably just as well.'

Don't Mind You Under My Skin by 50artists -  Five times that Crowley tempted Aziraphale (with mixed success), and one time Aziraphale tempted him.

Biblical

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear by Daegaer

Over the Face of all the Earth by Daegaer - The Tower of Babel seemed like a good idea at the time . . .

Father of Nations by Daegaer -  Crowley and Aziraphale keep having dealings with the same family.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at an Apple by Argyle -  In which one thing leads to another, and the Garden awakens.

build me a city, call it jerusalem by gyzym -  Man begets man begets The Tales of Men, and there's nothing godly in that; Those Above and Them Below haven't any need for the stories humans have been hungry for since the snake and the Angel with the flaming sword.

for I am come to send fire on the earth by tomato_greens -  The worst of it was that Crowley had already received a commendation, gleaming, from Below.

And Find for Herself a Place to Rest by tomato_greens -  So long as you avoided the thorns, it was a nice tree.

Another One Bites the Dust by diefiend -  Crowley and Aziraphale and the Crucifixion.

Other Characters

Revisited and Riding Out by Patrick Phelan

Of Woman Born by slythwolf -  A brief biography of Adam's biological mother.

Pennies From Heaven (Pound Notes From Hell) by Ineffabilitea -  Warlock just wants to feel special again.

Forgotten, As A Dream by Clodius Pulcher (Clodia) -  "They'll be back. They're never far away..." Pippin Galadriel Moonchild, aged eleven and a half, dreams red. Or rather, Red.

Good Help is Hard to Find, or The Hazards of Reading Prophecy by Fleur Rochard (fleurrochard), somnolentblue -  Wherein Aziraphale hires a shop assistant.

Love Me Tender by tomato_greens -  Bright lights and ice cream: what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Except when it doesn't.

Memory Yields by Interrobam -  The thing about being destined to bring about the apocalypse when you're eleven was that no one quite made plans for how you were supposed to go about the rest of your life.

The Morning After the Morning After the End of the World by Aegialia -  Anathema moves on and figures herself out.

In which Adam challenges Crowley to a drinking contest and it is a terrible idea by Macdicilla -  It is a rather foolish thing to set a bet with the devil, or even with a devil, unless you have an ace—or better yet, all the aces in the deck—up your sleeve.

Anything by LoveChilde -  About ten years after the world didn’t end, Pippin Galadriel Moonchild meets an angel. Or maybe just a harmless homosexual. They have tea.

Forgive Those Who Trespass by JAMoczo -  Crowley and Shadwell share Madame Tracy and Aziraphale for a week. God help us all.

Crossovers

The Nice and Accurate Adventures of Aziraphale in Ankh-Morpork by Glinda -  All truly good second-hand bookshops are really genteel black-holes that have learned how to read.

Bargain Breakfast by Daegaer -  Crowley gets a suspicious sort of customer.

The Corsair of Carcosa by Vulgarweed -  Aziraphale gets his hands on a rare copy of the play The King in Yellow. Reading and its consequences ensue.

[ineffable-endearments]

“I lost my best friend” (does Aziraphale know?)

One of the most confusing moments for a lot of people, myself included, is Aziraphale’s reaction to “I lost my best friend.” I’m trying to parse out whether I headcanon that he Knows, and if he does, what his response means.

It turned into a 2000-word-plus analytical post. At first I thought Aziraphale knew, then I thought he didn’t, then I thought he did again. And there are so, so many implications for the whole rest of the story. That one line is such an important moment!

But I’ll put my thoughts behind a read more, for courtesy’s sake.

First of all:

Aziraphale definitely thought there was a chance Crowley might still want to help him out after he said he was leaving for Alpha Centauri, because he called Crowley the instant he realized Heaven was determined to destroy Earth. However, on his second contact attempt, he asked if Crowley went to Alpha Centauri. While Aziraphale probably knew, given the circumstances, that Crowley hadn’t literally left the planet, the question was an opportunity for Crowley to get out of helping. Aziraphale had to have given him that opportunity on purpose because he wasn’t 100% sure if Crowley would still want to help.

Last time Aziraphale called him, Crowley had said it wasn’t a good time to talk. “I’ve got an old friend here.” They didn’t get any time to communicate, but Crowley was playing it as cool as he could. Aziraphale, who...sometimes takes things at face value, could believe that he had an old friend there instead of an enemy.

Aziraphale does not know he’s supposed to be dead. He doesn’t know the bookshop burned down, and he has no idea about what Crowley went through inside.

All of these things together would lead me to think that no, in that moment, Aziraphale did not know Crowley was talking about him. He reacted as if he might not know, and there are several reasons that he could plausibly not know.

However.

Fast-forward to Tadfield airbase. Aziraphale realizes the best way to compel Crowley to come up with an idea for stopping Satan is to threaten never to speak to him again (or, at least, remind him that if they die now they’re never going to speak again). This would indicate that he does know what Crowley was suggesting back there: that Aziraphale is his best friend, so much so that life isn’t worth living without him. And, conversely, that he might be persuaded life is worth living for him.

This tells us with relatively little doubt that Aziraphale does in fact know Crowley’s feelings and that he was the loss Crowley was so upset about.

It’s also worth noting that in the script book, Aziraphale is given a chance to label their relationship when introducing Crowley to Madame Tracy. Aziraphale just says “He’s...well, we’re sort of business associates.” He is still reticent to label Crowley a friend (even though Crowley literally just said they were friends to the army guy). So it’s quite believable that back at the bar, he would have tried to work around accepting the Best Friend moniker from Crowley.

Initially, when Crowley said he “lost his best friend,” Aziraphale had no idea about the bookshop fire, and he probably thought Crowley was referring to their relationship being lost during their argument during the bandstand breakup. As in, the two of them had a fight, Aziraphale said “we’re not friends,” and now they’re not friends anymore. As far as Aziraphale would know, this upset Crowley SO much that he just gave up on living.

This is not flattering. This is disturbing. Aziraphale has been afraid of Crowley getting hurt by their relationship - “whatever you wish to call it” - for at least 417 years, first mentioned on-screen in 1601. Is it the only thing Aziraphale has been afraid of? Certainly not. He has been attempting self-preservation as well. But is it important? Without a doubt.

THIS IS KIND OF LIKE AZIRAPHALE’S BURNING BOOKSHOP MOMENT. Crowley isn’t LITERALLY dead, but he’s resigned himself to it...and Aziraphale is blaming himself. That awkward “I’m so sorry to hear it” is, in many ways, Aziraphale trying to keep his shit together. Just as Crowley, in the bookshop, thought he’d caused Aziraphale’s death, Aziraphale thinks Crowley’s death is the final consequence of befriending an angel.

I’d like to keep in mind the one instance in the series when Aziraphale does openly call Crowley a friend. It’s when he’s lying about not having any information about the Antichrist. When reminded to call with any updates, he says, “Of course! We’re friends! Why would you think I wouldn’t?” Given how strategic Aziraphale is trying to be, I think he’s partly nervous and losing track of his lies/accidentally letting the truth slip, and partly trying to butter Crowley up because he knows that if going to Heaven works like he wants it to, Crowley will have to accept their asylum. The one difference between this moment and all the other moments when he denies their friendship (which almost always also involve lying to other people) is at this moment, Aziraphale thinks he’s figured out how to solve Armageddon.

Anyway, Aziraphale promptly goes and feels Heaven out to see if they might just stop the entire war like he wants. When the Archangels turn the conversation to how much they all love smiting the foe, however, Aziraphale backs down and turns his Antichrist discovery into a hypothetical, choosing not to tell Heaven about it right away, either. Here, they’ve reframed Crowley once again as “the foe.” After that, Aziraphale has another fit of indecision, but agrees to meet Crowley at the bandstand, where he suggests, subtly (but not that subtly) that Crowley should join Heaven.

This tells me that he still hopes Heaven might save Earth, but if he’s going to save Crowley alongside Earth, then he’s gonna have to get Crowley on Heaven’s side so that he doesn’t get Smited. He’s so certain at this point this is the only solution that he won’t even let Crowley walk away until Crowley establishes that there is another option besides Heaven.

And that second option - the option to just leave it all and flee to the stars - is what makes Aziraphale decide it’s time to end their Arrangement and deny everything about their relationship instead of simply saying “no, I’m not leaving.” After all, Crowley cited their friendship as the reason they should go off together. As far as I can see, the only way this sudden turnaround really makes sense is if Aziraphale is being protective here, trying to remove himself from the equation in the desperate hope that Crowley will make decisions for himself rather than for Aziraphale (who is occasionally dense but is not stupid; he remembers 1862, and 1941, and 1967).

This exchange loops us back to Aziraphale’s probable assumption in the bar that Crowley’s “I lost my best friend” is referring to this fight, NOT to Aziraphale’s presumed death.

“I’m so sorry to hear it.” Almost six months later, I finally believe I have a real interpretation for that phrase. With the context that it’s Crowley explaining that’s why he hasn’t gone to Alpha Centauri to escape from the war between Heaven and Hell, why he’s so devastated, why he’s given up on survival, it’s Aziraphale responding, “I’m sorry you lost something so important to you. I’m sorry I was so important to you. I’m sorry that you decided your life wasn’t worth living without me.”***

But Aziraphale:

Is not going to apologize for the fight itself. He was harsh, but he WAS doing his best, and in this moment, I don’t think he sees any way that he could have avoided it.

Is not going to acknowledge that they’re friends. Right now, he likely still believes Crowley would be better off far away from here. And he also probably believes that calling themselves “friends” remains a bad idea, because while he’s been disabused of the notion that Heaven is worth asking for help, Heaven and Hell and their punishments are STILL looming over them. I have little doubt that Aziraphale’s ideology is playing into this as well - he believes they’re enemies and therefore cannot be classified as friends - but it’s the threat behind that ideology that is motivating him, not that he loves the ideology for its own sake.

Aziraphale always eventually turns to Crowley when he doesn’t know what to do because Crowley is fucking brilliant and also the only being in the universe who actually cares about either Aziraphale or Earth for their own sakes.

However, I’d say he avoided getting Crowley involved until he realized there was absolutely no other option, rather carefully made sure Crowley didn’t have to be involved, and gives Crowley a choice every step of the way on whether he wants to risk his life all the way until the tail end. When they’re sitting at the bus stop and he’s reminding Crowley, “my side wouldn’t like that,” it isn’t only for Aziraphale’s benefit; it is a habit, yes, but he’s likely thinking about how if the Archangels caught him and Crowley living together, they’d definitely smite Crowley because that’s what they love to do. They told him as much during the conversation in Heaven, going as far as to say “Crowley and the others were cast out, but nothing was ever really settled.” They’d love to “settle” things. So would Hell, now. And it is Crowley’s determination to stay that convinces Aziraphale it’s finally okay to believe they’re on their own side.

I think, on that bench in Tadfield, the question of whether it’s time to leave the planet was still hanging over the two of them. After all, they’re now slated for punishment. I think that by saying “I suppose I should get him to drop me off at the bookshop,” Aziraphale was gently informing Crowley that he doesn’t plan to leave Earth - he plans to die here. By saying “I don’t think my side would like that” about Crowley’s idea that they should live together, he’s giving Crowley one more chance to leave for the stars.

Good Omens is about a lot of things. One of them is opposites. Aziraphale’s faulty philosophical assumption is that blending two “opposite” things (or, in this case, people) will destroy them both. As far as he’s concerned, either one of those two people must first change, so that they’re no longer “opposite” (i.e. Crowley rejoins Heaven), or they must not mix (“I need a receptive body. It’s a pity I can’t inhabit yours! But occult, ethereal...we’d probably explode.”) The real truth is that having both of them together is the only way to win, of course. The Earth is a Libra and it thrives on balance, but not separation.

All this - the fact that Aziraphale will still ask for help with saving the world but denies his friendship with Crowley and seems to try to stay away as a protective measure - really suggests to me that Aziraphale loves Crowley, cares deeply about him, but wants him to stay only if he’s genuinely going to choose Earth for his own sake, not because he’s trying to choose Aziraphale (who, in his own opinion, is dangerous to be around; see 1601, the Holy Water, the bandstand). What he’s not taking into account is that he, Crowley, and the Earth are united as one, and it’s not only safe for the two of them to choose each other, but it’s essential.

Yeah. Leaving together on the bus is Aziraphale finally letting Crowley choose him.

***A little note about Crowley’s self-worth/will to live...I don’t mean to imply that he doesn’t have any interest in living outside of having a relationship with Aziraphale. Of course he does. But in that moment, with the incomplete information that Aziraphale has, it looks to him like that’s what is being said. In reality, Crowley’s despair isn’t just about not being friends anymore - it’s the belief that Aziraphale is dead, permanently gone. When you care a lot about someone, as hard as it is to move on from a breakup, it’s even more difficult to get over the despair of knowing that person is no longer out there at all. Combined with Armageddon, it was too much.

Crowley and Aziraphale are extremely oblivious, and yes, they do have some misunderstandings. But in the grand scheme of things, it’s not their mutual feelings that they’re oblivious to. It’s the fact that they actually do have the power to save each other. It took an act not of divine but of human intervention to get them to understand that.

[lady-divine-writes]

I Drove All Night (Rated PG13)

After Nope-aggedon and their lunch at the Ritz, instead of staying with Aziraphale, Crowley leaves under the guise of ‘tying up loose ends’. But after hours behind the wheel of his Bentley he realizes he’s not ‘tying up loose ends’, he’s running away.

And he’s going in the wrong direction. (2274 words)

(Written for the anon prompt Cyndi Lauper’s ‘I Drove All Night’. Listen to it while you read this. It sort of broke me XD)

I had to re-post this since the original was a mess XD

“That was a splendid lunch! Absolutely fabulous! I can’t remember the last time we shared such a scrumptious meal!” Aziraphale gushes, basking in the afterglow that comes from thwarting a world-ending supernatural war, helping send Satan himself back to Hell, escaping execution, then topping it off with three slices of cake and two helpings of crepes.

“I’ll admit, I can’t remember myself,” Crowley says, content, but not quite as effervescent as his angel companion.

“It was quite the celebration, wouldn’t you say?”

“That I would.”

“So, what are you in the mood to do now?” Aziraphale asks, turning to Crowley with a wiggle before the demon has thrown his car into park. Aziraphale doesn’t offer any suggestions, but the smile on his face points to the fact that he has some.

Some he’s given a great deal of thought to.

Crowley examines his steering wheel, his instrument panel, his gauges, reads the mileage forward and backward to keep his mind from wondering what those ideas could be, and if they happen to be similar to ones he’s come up with during his own drunken daydreaming.

“I’ve got to go,” he says apologetically. “Tend to some business. Tie up a few loose ends. You know how it is.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale’s bubbly smile falls in confusion. Without sparing a glance, Crowley can tell that wasn’t the answer Aziraphale had been expecting. “O-okay.”

“I imagine you need to, too,” Crowley adds, hoping it’s true.

He knows it isn’t.

Aziraphale takes too long to answer and that confirms Crowley’s suspicions on the matter.

“Y-yes,” Aziraphale says in a stuttered rush, struggling to re-group. “Of … of course. Quite right. I need to … tie up loose ends. As well. How long will that take you, do you think?” His eyes are puppyish, pleading. They sever the last fraying strings that have kept Crowley’s maggoty heart a prisoner in his chest.

‘Oh well. I’ll do better once it’s gone,’ he thinks. ‘Maybe I should slice it out once and for all. Put it in a box. Give it to Aziraphale to lock away in his curio cabinet beside his collection of snuff boxes and his blasted cherub figurines. It’s always belonged to him anyhow …’

“I don’t know,” Crowley replies. “Not too long? Coupl’a years at the most.”

“A couple of … a couple of years?”

“Give or take. Be back before you know it. You won’t even miss me.”

“I … I guess I won’t.” Aziraphale’s eyes drift from Crowley’s face to a random spot on the dash, his whole being sliding further and further away, as if his bookshop behind him is pulling him to it.

Or the Bentley is pushing him out.

But he can’t leave yet, not without proper acknowledgement that this is the end – that everything that’s led up to this moment, everything that he thought meant so much actually meant less than he imagined. Much less. But such is the nature of the beast, right? Angel … demon … together … and in love?

Ridiculous.

It was just a dream. His dream alone.

Besides, the world would probably explode.

“I see,” he says, steeling his shoulders and tipping up his chin. “Yes. A couple of years. Sounds about right. Well then, you’d better get started.”

“Yeah,” Crowley says, surprisingly bothered that he’s taking it so well. “I guess I’d better.”

“I suspect I’ll … I’ll see you around then. Sooner or later.”

“Sooner or later.”

“As they say, don’t be a stranger.” Aziraphale offers Crowley his hand. Crowley looks at it. Shaking hands isn’t something they normally do, so Aziraphale initiating this definitely stands out as odd. Crowley had thought to leave him with a hug but perhaps this is better in the long run.

Crowley takes the offered hand and shakes it. Aziraphale gasps when they touch – a sudden and sharp mew. When they let go, he watches Crowley’s hand retreat till it’s resting on the steering wheel again.

If Aziraphale had been expecting something else, he doesn’t mention it.

“Good-bye, Crowley,” he says softly, opening the passenger door, exiting the vehicle, and closing it behind him before Crowley has the chance to say, “See ya.”

***

Crowley mulls over his and Aziraphale’s parting as he drives down the motorway on his way to Edinburgh. Hours he spends recounting every word, the tone of Aziraphale’s voice, the color in his cheeks - that rosy glow that fills the apples when he’s excited.

How quickly those roses and apples withered when Crowley said he needed to go.

The look on Aziraphale’s face, in his eyes, is one Crowley will remember for as long as he exists. It’s the same look he wore at the bandstand when Crowley stormed away, and again outside the bookshop when he said he was leaving Earth and wouldn’t think of him.

Fuck!

Bloody fuck!

What the fuck is he doing?

Why did he leave!?

Where did he really need to be?

Nowhere, and that’s the point.

He knows he isn’t exactly the bravest demon in Hell, but he didn’t see himself as disloyal.

Dammit if he isn’t proving himself wrong left and right!

He isn’t tending to business.

He’s running away.

Always running.

He’d offered to run and take Aziraphale with him, threatened to run and leave him behind, and now here he is, running under the guise of wrapping up loose ends. What loose ends? Every loose end he has should be scared shitless of him at this point! They’d all have heard by now, how he escaped a bath of Holy Water and lived to tell the tale. If he had any honest to goodness loose ends to tie up, wouldn’t it be best to do it with an angel by his side? The one angel on Earth every demon believes is impervious to Hellfire?

Crowley doesn’t even need to hide! He has nothing left to do for the moment but settle down somewhere and start enjoying himself until Heaven and Hell decide to start another row.

So why isn’t he doing that?

When he thinks about it, really thinks about it, there’s only one place he wants to spend his time, only one being he wants to spend that time with.

And he’s driving in the opposite direction.

“Shit shit shit shit shit!”

He doesn’t pull over. Doesn’t exit the motorway. He wrenches the Bentley’s steering wheel to turn his car around. The tires squeal at the abrupt change in direction, the vehicle spinning so quickly it almost flips on its side. Horns wail. Headlights from oncoming cars fly past, swerving out of his way to avoid a head on collision.

“Yeah, yeah, die mad about it,” he mumbles, throwing his car into gear. He doesn’t wait until he’s fully installed in a lane. As soon as he’s facing the way he needs to go, he drops his foot on the gas and floors it.

***

Knock-knock-knock.

“Aziraphale!”

Knock-knock-knock.

“Aziraphale!”

It’s well past two in the morning when Crowley ends up on Aziraphale’s doorstep, slamming his knuckles against the wood and praying Aziraphale is there. The angel wouldn’t answer his calls. Every light in the place is off. Even the lantern he reads by, its golden glow usually visible through the pulled blinds, appears absent. Aziraphale doesn’t need a lamp to read by, of course. He simply prefers the ambiance of it. The novelty.

Knock-knock-knock.

“Aziraphale! Are you in?”

Knock-knock-knock.

“Aziraphale? Why are your lights off? Are you asleep?”

Aziraphale doesn’t open the door, but he tuts from the opposite side. “Really, Crowley? Do you know me at all?”

“Aziraphale, please! Open the door!”

A moment of deliberation, than a put upon sigh. “Why should I?”

“Because I want to talk to you.”

“You’re talking to me now.”

“Ngk! You ever-loving pain in the … yes, but I want to see you!”

“I suppose you won’t go away till you do. Probably miracle straight through the door if I don’t let you.” More deliberation and another sigh. “Fine. Alright.” Crowley hears Aziraphale undo the bolts on the door one at a time. A simple snap would make short work of them, and Crowley considers it, but he can’t force Aziraphale to hear him out, no matter how much he wants him to. Aziraphale opens the door a sliver and peeks out, tired eyes assessing him like a gentleman confronted by a long lost relative, thrice removed, begging for money. “Well … what is it?” he grumbles. “Why are you here?”

“Aziraphale …” Crowley throws his hands open and sighs “… I’m here because I’m an idiot.”

Aziraphale’s eyes roll, but the door opens a hair. “I know that, but that doesn’t explain why you’ve come back. Don’t you have business to attend to? What about your loose ends?”

“There are no loose ends. None that matter. There’s just you.”

The door opens wider and this time, Aziraphale takes a step forward. “Then why did you leave?”

“I---I don’t know.” Crowley’s tongue trips, his excuse skids. No. He’s not going to start this on a lie. “That’s … that’s not true. But the reasons don’t matter. I’m back and I … I really wish …”

“Wish what?” Another step and now Aziraphale is outside.

“I wish you’d kiss me.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows shoot up. “You want me to kiss you?”

“Yes. Please,” Crowley says, a nod separating each word. “Kiss me?”

Aziraphale’s head shakes, his mouth starting to work soundlessly. “I don’t … I don’t know …”

Crowley puts a hand to Aziraphale’s cheek. His shaking stops. A pinkish burn takes its place. “Aziraphale …” Crowley reaches up with his free hand and removes his sunglasses. Aziraphale’s startled eyes dart about, subconsciously checking to see that no one is watching. And no one is. They’re in Soho, for crying out loud! Not a soul is paying any attention to them. But Aziraphale’s need to ensure Crowley’s safety, to keep him protected, reaches into the heart of him and pulls out the words he should have said yesterday afternoon when he dropped Aziraphale off and, like an imbecile, drove away. “I love you, Aziraphale. I love you and I … I need you to kiss me.”

There’s the smallest, reflexive nod of Aziraphale’s head. It would have been missed by someone else, someone not staring right into the angel’s eyes with expectation and hope. But Crowley was staring with both those things, so he saw. He nods back, and when he does, Aziraphale pounces, closing the gap between them – one of not just a few inches but thousands of years. He closes a gap of repressed feelings and unexpressed emotions, opens a door for unrealized daydreams, and sweeps away the dust off countless what ifs. There are whole chapters of their lives drafted but unedited – piled up on the sofa in Aziraphale’s back room, spread out over the passenger seat of Crowley’s Bentley, wedged between bottles of Jack Daniels and Merlot in both their liquor cabinets. Printed between the pages of Aziraphale’s open Bible and collected in a dried ring deep inside an empty tartan-print Thermos that once contained Holy Water. On the SD card in Crowley’s phone and a file on Aziraphale’s computer. Imprinted as footsteps throughout time, all over the world. While Aziraphale kisses Crowley and Crowley kisses him back, those pages are summoned. They gather in the gloam, making their way towards the angel and demon kissing at Aziraphale’s door.

“So, what are you in the mood to do now?” Aziraphale asks, realizing that with the admission of Crowley’s lie, the original question has been left newly unanswered.

“I want to stay with you, if you don’t mind. We … we don’t have to do anything. Not a thing if you don’t want to.”

“Oh. That’s a shame,” Aziraphale says with that little smile he gets when he’s just thought up a particularly clever joke. And even though that joke may very well be at Crowley’s expense, Crowley loves that smile.

He loves that he knows this about Aziraphale – something no one else on Heaven or Earth probably does.

“And why’s that?” Crowley asks.

“Because I was quite hoping you’d make love to me.”

Crowley blorts out a chuckle so unexpected, it stings his nose. If there’s one thing Aziraphale could say that would get a reaction out of him at that tense moment, it was that. Bravo, Aziraphale! But after a few awkward seconds of silence and a prolonged glare, it registers.

It’s not a joke.

That’s not a joke.

“Are you … are you serious?”

“I was.” Aziraphale clears his throat, his eyes falling to his clasped hands, visibly hurt by Crowley’s reaction; mildly broken by this whole ordeal. “I didn’t realize how ridiculous you thought …”

Crowley leans over, bends to the level of Aziraphale’s gaze and looks into his eyes. “Yes.”

Aziraphale’s brow pinches. “Yes what?”

“Yes, Aziraphale,” Crowley repeats, running the pad of his thumb lightly over the angel’s lower lip. “Yes.”

“But you …”

“Yes …”

“I thought …”

“Yes …”

Aziraphale stops rambling as Crowley inches closer. “Yes?”

Crowley nods.

“Yes.”

Their mouths meet. Aziraphale wobbles a step. Crowley catches him.

“Yes,” he mumbles between kisses, leading Aziraphale slowly backwards.

“Yes,” he says, sliding one hand underneath Aziraphale’s waistcoat to feel the angel’s warmth, his shuddering breaths.

“Are you … are you sure?” Aziraphale asks one last time, closing his eyes against days’ worth of tears he has no power to stop.

Crowley smiles and kisses them away.

“Yes,” he whispers, ushering Aziraphale inside his shop, snapping his fingers to shut and lock the door behind him.

[violet-moth]

An Angel Who Fell, But Not Quite Far Enough - Part Two

A gender-neutral, Good Omens reader-insert in which you are an angel with very bad—er, well nonexistent memory who fell, but not quite far enough...

[Beginning] [Next]

[Y/N] settled quietly into the backseat of the pristine car, their hands falling into their lap. Perhaps it wasn’t really a wise idea to accept a ride from two strangers—in fact, if they were a normal person with an average comprehension of the past, they would have flat-out refused. But [Y/N] liked to think they were a good judge of character. Even though the man with the dark aura was off-putting, he seemed to earn the bookkeep’s trust. And they had found that people with such bright auras were rather good company.

They were content to observe the rain beating harshly against the widow—that is until the car revved into motion.

[Y/N] could feel their heart rise to their throat as the car sped and weaved through traffic, their hands grasped tightly to their seat belt, too shocked to protest.

“Crowley!” The bookkeep scolded, looking back to their passenger worriedly. “You must slow down!”

The man behind the wheel, who had been grinning like a manic until now, groaned and complied. ”They got into the car with two total strangers--they know the risks they’re taking!” He argued.

With the initial shock worn away, [Y/N] found themselves surprised and slightly amused that the policemen they had passed made no effort to give chase (unbeknownst to them, the officers certainly would have, had a particular demon not placed certain ‘inconveniences’ in the way). [Y/N] found a smile rising to their lips. That was actually a rather fun—though, they supposed, if the man was allowed to continue speeding in this horrible weather, an accident would be inevitable. However, something about lack of memory tended to make them a bit reckless... “I didn’t mind,” [Y/N] voiced their thoughts, “I’m just impressed you didn’t get caught—your name is Crowley, then?”

“Anthony J. Crowley,” the demon responded, sending a small, triumphant smirk to the angel in the passenger seat.

“—I’m [Y/N].....-if we’re doing full names, [Y/N] [L/N]” They responded, sinking comfortably once more into the leather seat.

“....Hm...well, now that does sound familiar...”, the man in the passenger seat notes underneath his breath.

“You’ve probably seen it in the news a few times—I was something of a polarizing figure for a while,” they noted, used to being vaguely, but not quite recognized by the occasional person.

“Oh?” The driver, Crowley, raised a brow, curiously prodding for more information.

After a small bout of silence, it occurred to [Y/N] to offer the explanation. “I’m something of a medical mystery...-no memories and no reason why I shouldn’t have them. Had to pick a name for myself and that’s what they used in all the papers and interviews...I’m a bit relieved that’s it’s over if I’m honest.”

Though Crowley was the one to prompt the explanation, it was the other man who seemed intrigued. “Oh, yes! I do remember reading something like that...-such a terrible thing...I couldn’t imagine...”

“I don’t mind it,” they note sincerely, sending the man a small smile. “I appreciate the sympathy, but...-well, you can’t really miss what you never knew. This life is all I’ve ever known and I’m happy with what I’ve built so far.”

“...-sounds like a blessing, eh angel?” Crowley breathed on a sigh, the holy word said with a certain air of cynicism.

Aziraphale frowned, about to argue about this seeming far much more like a demon’s doing that a celestial’s before [Y/N] cut in.

“Is that your name? Angel?” They almost hope it is, having such a vast interest in Theology.

“Hm? Oh...oh goodness, no. It’s Aziraphale.” He corrected.

[Y/N] eyes widen with interest, instantly recognizing the name from their studies. They scooted forward until they were sitting on the edge of the seat, straining the seatbelt. “Really? Did you know you were named after the Angel of the Eastern gate?”

This seems to confound Aziraphale and he stutters, but Crowley comes to the rescue. “Of course he knows. It’s a running joke between us. Why do you think I call ‘em ‘Angel’?”

“Oh, that makes sense!” [Y/N] accepts this response enthusiastically, “—sorry, but I couldn’t help but wonder. My major is Theology, after all, with a concentration on angelology.”

Crowley snorts, seeming profoundly amused.

“...-what’s so funny?” [Y/N] asks, ready to defend their passion. They had to many times before, people always asking them what on Earth they intended to do with such a degree.

“...-just sounds like a made-up word”, he chuckles, seeming to find it even more funny, “angelology.” He snorts again.

“Well. I think it sounds like a perfectly noble pursuit, my dear.” Aziraphale defends, his chest puffed up proudly, almost as though he were flattered.

“...-if you don’t mind, what hours do you keep for your shop? I noticed books on prophecy and I would like to study them further, for my research.” Now comfortably acquainted with the two, [Y/N] was prepared to ask.

“Ah, well...it simply depends on...-Well, I never quite know when exactly...”

“Oh,” [Y/N] seems a bit disappointed, but not deterred, “I understand. Running a business must be difficult—I’ve never envied business majors on campus.”

“Ah—yes, well...,” Aziraphale does not share that he avoids any and all customers in his shop. He can’t have his collection dwindling as a result of good business! It had taken centuries to build it up! Still, if it was for her research...—he had never been one to impede the pursuits of a scholar. “I do believe your best bet would be visiting in the last afternoon. Weekdays, of course. If it is in the interest of your studies, I would be happy to rent any copy you’d like.” Problem solved, then. He’d simply loan them to [Y/N]; they seemed trustworthy enough.

[Y/N] beamed at this, “I’ll make sure to stop by, then.” They pause, the car approaching campus. “—Ah, I live in the larger building...just down that way,” [Y/N] points, directing Crowley to their residence hall.

“End of the line, angelologist,” Crowley still seems bemused by the word. He doesn’t bother putting the car into park, impatiently waiting for the end of this disturbance of his night-in with Aziraphale.

[Y/N] smiled, retrieving their umbrella from the floorboard. “Thank you for the lift! Perhaps I could make it up to you, sometime?” They don’t wait for an answer, exiting the vehicle, careful to open their umbrella at exactly the right time to avoid getting drenched. Perhaps it was simply the chilling storm, but they felt extremely cold upon leaving the cozy company Aziraphale’s aura held. It felt as though leaving something quite nostalgic behind: strange. They turned to wave, but before they could, the Bentley’s tires screeched into action—the motion splashing her a bit as the two sped away. [Y/N] sighed to themselves, feeling oddly lost there amid the storm. The rain pelted down in a comforting, natural rhythm upon the vinyl above them. It was a charming encounter, certainly, but one that left them puzzled

They would be sure to visit the bookshop again the next free afternoon they get.

[Next]

[goodlucktai]

without knowing how, or when, or from where

good omens pairing: aziraphale/crowley, crowley & warlock word count: 3517 part 4 of the is there a better bet than love? series read on ao3

x

Crowley is keeping a secret.

Come now, you old fusspot, Aziraphale scolds himself immediately after the initial thought. It’s not as though we live in each other’s pockets. A fellow is allowed to have his own life.

It’s just that— well, there’s no reason to live separately anymore, to be apart, not really. Weeks after the almost-end of the world, they’ve settled into the same side, their own side. There’s no need to be skulking about at odd hours so their superiors don’t get the wrong idea, no need to force distance and affect indifference.

And Crowley is such a darling now that he has room to be. Slinking in to share Aziraphale’s company every evening— and then, soon after that, to share his bed. He presses into Aziraphale’s hands at night, into the curve of his body, like a heat-seeking missile, like a creature left out in the cold. Not entirely sure of his welcome, not quite yet, but coming closer with every morning he wakes up in Aziraphale’s arms.

(They kiss, and they hold one another, and they go no farther than that. Crowley isn’t interested in carnal pleasures, and Aziraphale would only be if he was. It’s a blessing just to have him; to reach out and trace the curve of his cheek or the red of his hair and feel him lean into the touch; to finally love him as he deserves to be loved, utterly and with gleeful abandon.)

This intimacy they have found is something precious to the both of them. Aziraphale doesn’t want to begrudge his snake a single thing, but he doesn’t understand what place any secret might still have between them.

He brings it up to the Reading Circle one dreary Thursday morning, hoping for advice.

They’re a group of six or so seventy-something year old women who have taken to the shop twice a week ever since the church whose basement they used to meet in snubbed Greta’s gay granddaughter and henceforth incited the Circle’s collective, not-inconsiderable wrath.

The women refer to Crowley as Aziraphale’s “charming young man,” and keep Aziraphale up-to-date on all of the juicy Soho gossip, and have never attempted to make a single purchase. He quite adores them.

To his immediate consternation, the women exchange weighted, knowing glances.

“Well,” Laura says, “he’s a flash young thing. It could be that he’s not quite ready to settle down yet. Lord knows my Hector was flighty at that age.”

It takes Aziraphale longer than he’s proud of to realize what they’re implying, and then his first impulse is to laugh aloud despite all the feathers he ruffles in doing so.

“Forgive me,” he says, pressing a hand to his mouth. “Oh, dear. I’m afraid you’ve got quite the wrong idea about my Crowley.”

After six thousand years of not-very-subtle adoration and foolhardy devotion, the demon’s commitment can hardly be called into question; but Aziraphale can’t very well explain as much to the ladies in his shop. He pours out more tea and smiles to himself while they witter, deciding he might as well stop beating around the bush and just ask Crowley directly when he comes— here, a happy thrill at the concept— home.

And so that evening, after dinner together and a half a bottle of very fine red wine, he does. Crowley doesn’t look surprised to be caught out. He rubs a hand through his hair thoughtlessly, leaving it a charming mess, and can’t seem to meet Aziraphale’s eyes even from behind those silly glasses.

“I’d hoped to get away with it for just a bit longer, angel.”

Aziraphale is more relieved than anything that it wasn’t just the product of a restless imagination. He sets aside his crossword and beckons Crowley closer, having had quite enough of him existing outside of arm’s reach.

Crowley slinks across the room readily, climbing over the angel’s lap to get to the corner of the sofa he prefers. Tucked up against Aziraphale’s side, under his arm and against his chest, the tension ebbs out of his body like water down a drain.

“This is the part where you yell at me, I’d imagine,” he mumbles into Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“I should certainly think not,” Aziraphale says primly.

They bicker over just about everything— from any manner of theological issue to whose turn it is to pay the cheque at dinner to who cheated who in an Olympic game they both competed in nearly three thousand years ago— because it’s fun, even at its most annoying. Aziraphale’s fellow angels are humorless, and Crowley has implied that an argument in Hell is likely to spiral into a knife fight within the space of a few ill-chosen words, so they tend to pounce on any argument that lands between them with all the full-ahead eagerness of jousters in a tiltyard.  

But they don’t raise their voices in true anger. It would hardly be worth the two steps back, when each step forward is a thrilling victory. It would be hard to summon the vitriol in the first place, really, when life is so pleasant anymore.

It’s still raining outside, and Beethoven is playing on the gramophone in the front room, and even Crowley’s plants are waving ever so slightly back and forth in perfect contentment.

Aziraphale says, “Tell me, love. I’m listening.”

#

Nanael has discovered poetry. They have spent countless hours curled up in an overstuffed armchair with a pile of books that refuses to shrink, doing nothing but drinking in the art of language that humans have dreamed up.

They are new to the concept of time, of seasons and changing things, but it has been about a year since they arrived in London. A year and four days, to be precise, marked by Crowley coming by with a clear pastry box containing a Battenberg cake that he plopped without ceremony on top of the jigsaw puzzle Nanael was picking their way through.

It looked very much like the same cake they’d eaten on their very first day here at the shop, right down to the expertly quilted pattern on the white marzipan.

“What’s this for?” Nanael asked, touching the green ribbon gingerly.

“Sort of your birthday, innit,” the demon had muttered before stalking off to the back room, leaving a fondly bemused Aziraphale to explain the concept of anniversaries and celebrations and birthday gifts.

Four days later, Nanael still smiles when they think of the cake. They have been on earth for a year, and they’re beginning to understand why Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, never came home. There are certainly no birthday gifts in Heaven.

The door above the bell rings, and Nanael looks up from their book in time to watch a man step inside. At the very least, they mentally amend a moment later, a man-shaped entity. He isn’t doing a very good job of suppressing his demonic energies, letting them flare and catch about Nanael’s periphery like fire.

Nanael tenses, but doesn’t leap from behind the counter or issue any Holy demands. They’re a little bit embarrassed about that sort of thing now, and waits instead for the demon to make his own introduction.

“To hear Hastur tell it, Crowley’s lost the plot,” he  remarks snidely, by way of hello. “Far as I’m concerned, this sounds like the place to be. Where is he?”

His— her, Nanael can see now— voice is incongruent with her form, not entirely human, as though she hasn’t quite mastered this whole mortal flesh malarkey. It’s reminiscent of Poe, and makes Nanael think of talking ravens, and they’re rather charmed by the whole thing where they should probably rightly be horrified.

“Oh, you know Crowley,” Nanael says, relieved. “He and Aziraphale are out to lunch.”

Nanael was invited along, but one of the ladies in the Reading Circle gave them a Meaningful Look and said it was important for couples to have Alone Time every now and again. Nanael isn't sure what they meant by that, because there’s no stopping Aziraphale from looking at Crowley as though he hung the stars even when they’re surrounded by company— and that’s perfectly reasonable, Nanael thinks fairly, because Crowley did— but they went alone to lunch, anyway, and Nanael got to know Yeats instead.

And that is why, now, they are alone in the bookshop with an unfamiliar demon. They don’t regret it, though; Yeats has been worthwhile.

(There is a whole stack of nineteenth century poets, shelves and shelves of them, and Aziraphale says they’re dear to him; he says they kept him company when he was quite lonely, but he never says it when Crowley is around to overhear. For this reason, even though Nanael doesn’t fully understand it, those poets are dear to them, too.)

“Out to lunch?” the demon looks nonplussed. It’s a more pleasant look than the sneer had been. “Is that code for something?”

“What would it be code for? They went for Italian.” Nanael doesn't know if that meant an Italian restaurant nearby or the country of Italy, and they didn't think to ask.

“The Serpent doesn’t eat, ” the demon says. She sounds as petulant as a child Nanael overheard the other day, discussing the existence of Santa Claus with her mother. “It’s one of the oldest curses in the Book. ‘On your belly you shall go, and you shall eat dust all the days of your life.’ The punishment for creating original sin would have to be steep, wouldn’t it?”

She says it with a strange, backwards sort of delight, almost awe. Nanael’s heart— fragile, unreliable human thing that it is— gives a painful lurch.

Surely not, they think, but it’s more out of reflexive horror than anything else, desperation to deny the very idea.

All of those pleasant afternoons at all of Aziraphale’s favorite restaurants swim to the front of their mind; trying dish after dish of unfamiliar cuisine with their fellow angel while Crowley only nursed a glass of wine.

They think of their birthday cake.

Hands curled into loose fists, Nanael’s eyes stray from the stranger before them and toward a certain selection of books at the back— books that they were told to steer clear of until they had a better grasp on things.

“Tricky business, occult science,” Aziraphale had said. “You’re just as likely to lay a curse as break one if you don’t get the inflection right. Best keep out of it for now, hm?”

Nanael, in what was becoming habit, had looked to Crowley for the final word on the matter. Crowley leaned back on his elbows and said, “No knowledge is off-limits, Feathers, but you wouldn’t give an eight-year-old a book on astrophysics and expect them to work it out for themselves, would you? If there’s something you want to know in particular, just ask.”

And that had been that. But now… well, things have changed, haven’t they? That’s what things do, here on earth, is change, almost constantly.

The demon leaves with an unsettling lack of farewell, but Nanael hardly notices her go. They’re venturing into the stacks they’ve never ventured into before, abandoning their poets to reach instead for a book in weathered blue binding. The title has mostly faded; all that’s left of it reads Tractatulus Hyprocratis, and Nanael isn’t sure what that translates to.

But there are dictionaries here. There are encyclopedias and thesauruses. One of the first things Nanael learned was how to learn, and they lock up the shop with a thought and circle back to the chair that has become theirs.

If Crowley is cursed, it hardly seems fair that Nanael should have to sit around all this knowledge that might be of help to him and not be allowed to pursue it.

#

“I heard your parents are sending you away,” Roman says in a rather nasty tone of voice.

Warlock sizes him up, and Roman sees him sizing him up and puts a healthy extra step of distance between them. It isn’t that Warlock is very big or very strong, it’s just that Warlock doesn’t think twice about starting fights, and he’ll go to twice as much length as anyone else will to finish them.

“Whoever told you that’s a liar,” Warlock bites out. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s thirteen now, with grades near the top of his class after that dismal year between ten and eleven. His teachers aren’t sure what to make of him, but he’d tell them if they just asked; that Nanny said Warlock could do much better than he’d been doing, that it’s one thing to punish the people who hurt you but a whole ‘nother when that punishment bends back around onto you.

It wasn’t hard to tidy his grades up after that. He’s not an idiot.

“That’s not what dad said,” Margo pipes up. “Dad told me your dad told him that you’re on the waiting list for a program for troubled youth. Very private. Almost like they want to keep you a secret.”

The rest of the group gets a big laugh out of that, and Warlock glares at the bunch of snow weighing down a low-hanging branch above the sidewalk, willing it to fall on their heads.

Whether by nature or influence, it does. They shriek in surprise, and it’s Warlock’s turn to laugh.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says again, just so they don’t get any more stupid ideas. “I’ve got plans, you see.”

And then he rushes the rest of the way home, careful not to slip on the icy pavement, because it’s Friday, and Friday means Nanny will be there to pick him up after school.

#

“Oh, I forgot,” Nanael says. They’re hiding whatever book they’re reading in an open magazine, and Aziraphale hasn’t come around to asking why yet. Some things are better left untroubled. “Crowley, someone came looking for you. A demon. I didn’t get her name.”

Aziraphale sharpens, pen going still above his ledger. Crowley doesn’t look half as worried. He hardly looks up from his phone.

“As long as it’s me they’re looking for,” he says. “I’ll tighten up the wards tonight.”

“As long as— “ Aziraphale frowns mightily. “Danger to you is still danger, Crowley. We’ll tighten up the wards right now.”

“It's not as though they'll be back before dinner,” Crowley grumbles, but he picks his feet up off the ottoman and pushes himself upright nonetheless. He makes a show of it, making sure to look impossibly put-upon, and Aziraphale feels himself bristling.

“After what happened the last time we had unwanted guests,” he says tightly, unhappy, “I hope you’ll forgive my taking extra precautions.”

Crowley winces. Nanael looks stricken, and then miserable. “I’ve told Daniel not to come here again,” they say, picking guiltily at the edge of their strange amalgamation of reading material. “She promised she wouldn’t.”

“Well, that’s one angel we can cross off the list, then. We only have the rest of the combined forces of Heaven and Hell left to worry about.”

Aziraphale bustles into the front room, feeling prickly and restless. The idea of danger looms in all the dark corners of the dimly lit shop. Crowley follows, as silent as a winged creature, or in this case, one with scales.

He steps into Aziraphale's space, looping those long arms around his middle, and Aziraphale is distracted by him, the warmth of him. His hands come up almost on their own to hold Crowley where he is.

“You’re working yourself up, angel. There’s no need. We’re safe as houses, here in your little shop. I’d like to see old Michael take a swing at one of us behind these walls.”

“Don’t tempt fate,” Aziraphale murmurs. “The last thing we need now is to invoke one of them.”

“We’ll tighten the wards,” Crowley says, giving, as always, where Aziraphale is stubbornly set in his ways. He's rubbing small circles against Aziraphale's back, the original tempter, convincing him to let go of all this reasonable worry despite himself. “Not even a mouse will get in without our knowing about it."

"I'm hardly worried about mice, my dear," Aziraphale says sternly, but it's a losing battle. "If anything were to happen to you— "

"I know, Aziraphale." Truly, he must. He watched the shop burn down and for a few bleak hours believed half of his soul was lost for good. Aziraphale can barely stomach the idea of such grief, and holds him tighter, as if to make up for not holding him then. "Nothing will. As long as we're together, we can weather anything they throw at us. It's worked out this far, hasn't it?"

"For better or worse."

Crowley leans back, eyes fully yellow, pupils round in the low light.

"They won't take me," he vows, vehement, full of a caring that crouches in his chest like a creature with teeth. "And they won't touch you. I swear it."

And what could he say? Aziraphale leans in to kiss him when the words all fail, on the corner of the mouth, the cheek, the stark lines of his tattoo, the lid of his eye, that stubborn brow. Faith and love and trust coalescing inside him into something fearsome, something next to divine.  

He's afraid he's gotten used to being afraid, but for Crowley, Aziraphale would brave anything.

#

“Oh, darling, there was no need for secrecy and subterfuge. You need only tell me these things.”

Crowley squirms. Aziraphale lifts his sunglasses away with a proprietary air, then lifts his chin and holds him there. He strokes Crowley’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, one of those throwaway moments of intimacy that still blow Crowley’s mind. He hasn’t reconciled himself to this new normal as easily as Aziraphale has. He has to fight not to shiver when all of the angel’s attention or affection bends his way.

“After six thousand years of doing whatever I’d like to do,” Aziraphale says fondly, “it’s rather past time I indulge whatever whims of yours that I can, hm?”

“This is more than a whim, ” Crowley hedges. He was expecting more of an argument; he doesn’t know what to do with such an easy victory. “It’s a— it’s a whole kid.”

“He's important to you,” Aziraphale says, as if it’s that simple.

And so Warlock Dowling comes to the bookshop in Soho for a visit, wide-eyed and clutching to the hem of Crowley’s jacket, incredibly small, infinitely human.

But there is nothing fragile in the way he lifts his chin and seems to dare Aziraphale or Nanael to tell him he isn’t welcome. As though a child should expect to be told he isn’t welcome.

“Hello, dearest,” Aziraphale says. Crowley can see him remembering the boy when he was very young, when he still toddled around the gardens asking about all the flowers and bugs. “I’m not sure if you remember me.”

Something like fondness springs into Warlock’s eyes, as if it was just waiting for the invitation.

“Brother Francis,” he says promptly, a smile lurking in the corners of his mouth. “Nanny said you fixed your teeth and left the church.”

Nanael makes a noise like a cat whose tail has just been stepped on, and turns bodily away to look with such pointed indifference at a shelf of self-help books that it’s obvious they’re suppressing laughter.

Aziraphale says “oh, really” and Crowley favors him with his most devil-may-care grin.

“Nanny said I could call him Crowley now, but it’s okay if I don’t,” Warlock goes on. “Is there something different you want to be called, too?”

A polite little Hellspawn when it suits him, Crowley thinks with displaced pride. He can see Aziraphale melting like butter, opening his mouth presumably to tell Warlock he can call him by whatever name he’s most comfortable with, when someone knocks on the shop window.

She’s a harried looking middle-aged woman, tapping her knuckles right next to where the Closed sign is hanging and seeming adamant about coming in anyway.

Warlock glares, and the shade comes crashing down with enough force that it knocks the window display clean over. The tapping, at least, stops dead.

“Oops,” says Warlock, shamefaced. He scurries over to pick up the fallen books, though he doesn’t bother lifting the shade. “Sorry.”

Crowley glances back at Aziraphale to find him stunned, staring at the books on the floor in bewilderment. Crowley rubs the back of his head, and says, “Yeah, um— there’s that, too. I think we may have believed in him a bit too much, during his formative years. Put some thoughts in his head that, er, took root.”

“I see,” Aziraphale says faintly. He comes to stand at Crowley’s side, watching Nanael crouch next to Warlock and show him how much more fun it is to order reality about with a snap of one’s fingers rather than a glare.

“If you’re Crowley’s child, you’ll pick it up right away,” Nanael says with perfect confidence.

Warlock brightens, and Crowley pretends not to notice the way Aziraphale is smiling at him.

[tinsley-goldsworth]

is this the real life? or is this just fantasy?

Summary: crowley and shane had been friends ever since they became demons and when ryan finds out, he’s extremely confused and terrified, to say the least

read on ao3!

Wc: 2514

Crowley and Shane had been best friends ever since they became demons. Fallen angels were usually filled with too much vengeance and anger to make friends when first entering hell but with their similar sarcastic humor and cynicism, Crowley and Shane became fast friends. Ironically, they both happened to be the two demons sent to watch over Earth, for different purposes of course. Crowley was sent to ensure that Armageddon would occur smoothly while Shane was sent by the department of management of otherworldly effects and inspection of human activity regarding such. 

Throughout the years, Crowley and Shane only met once or twice a century, depending on how violent wars were in the current era. Whenever they met, Crowley would always complain about how oblivious Aziraphale, an angel who was also sent to supervise the occurrence of Armageddon, was and how no matter how hard he tried to flirt with that angel, he never seemed to pick up on signals. Frankly, Shane felt like he was witnessing a six-thousand-year romantic comedy with all the hilariously sappy updates Crowley offered. While Crowley was busy running around wreaking havoc and chasing after Aziraphale’s heart, Shane didn’t have much to do other than make sure that people didn’t go around performing enough Satanic rituals to tear open a vortex to hell. 

As intelligent as some humans were, some humans were extremely dumb and fooled around with Satanic rituals and joked about holy water so Shane had to deal with those idiots to make sure nothing dangerous would happen. There wasn’t too much to worry about until the witch trial craze and rituals and human interference with otherworldly beings increased and Shane kept himself busy. Once that died down, Shane got a bit of a break before cameras were invented and people began spreading tales of catching demons and gathering evidence to prove there were creatures other than the ones humans were familiar with. Shane managed to get some of these rumors to die down with his sharp cynicism and logical remarks that made people question if they really saw what they think they saw. He also got rid of some evidence of his fellow demons and finally felt like he had solved the problem of these pesky humans poking their noses around in demons’ business. 

Unfortunately for Shane, his job on Earth wasn’t done yet as some guy by the name of Ryan Bergara created a show about proving demons, other supernatural beings, and ghosts were real. And even worse, the show was rapidly gaining popularity so Shane couldn’t just wipe the show off the internet and expect people to not be suspicious. So, Shane booked the first flight to Los Angeles and applied for a job at Buzzfeed. He became fast friends with everybody in the office, including Ryan and he convinced Brent, the co-host on the show, to drop his role and pursue his other dreams of filmmaking. Soon, Shane became the new Buzzfeed Unsolved co-host. Ryan has caught some compelling evidence on camera but Shane always made sure to have scientific evidence to back up his rebuttals. Unexpectedly, Shane also gained popularity on the internet for his witty remarks and banter on the show and fans of the show began to suspect that he was a demon based on circumstantial evidence that could easily be refuted. 

Shane and Ryan had just finished filming another season of Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural when Armageddon occurred. Or rather, it did, then it didn’t. Pretty soon, the internet had a new conspiracy to chew on, and Ryan was convinced by internet forums that Armageddon had occurred and almost started writing up another episode on that event. Shane managed to steer Ryan away from that path and he could tell that Ryan was starting to get suspicious. 

After Armageddon, Shane decided to meet up with Crowley again at Aziraphale’s bookstore now that Aziraphale had finally realized that his love for Crowley was requited and Crowley didn’t want to spend a second without Aziraphale within a one-mile radius. Since Shane and Ryan happened to be in London after just wrapping up filming the last couple of supernatural episodes, it was easy for him to slip away with the excuse that he was visiting an old friend. 

As Shane pushed opened the door of the bookshop, Crowley was already waiting for him in a large plush chair with a book in hand. His legs were dangling over the armrest on the chair and as he looked up to meet Shane’s eyes, he sat up properly, swinging his legs around to rest them where they were supposed to be. “Well if it isn’t Shane Madej.”

“Crowley, how have you been? Hi Aziraphale,” Shane greeted the angel as he walked into the room, holding two cups of coffee and placing them on the small coffee table. Aziraphale offered a small smile before disappearing to the back of the bookshop, giving Shane and Crowley privacy to talk. 

“Good, good. Life with Aziraphale has been great. How are things with you?” Crowley asked as he put down the book and gently held the cup of coffee, taking a sip of the hot liquid. He crossed his legs and leaned forward in his seat. 

“Good. I’ve kept Ryan from interfering with our business too much. You know, he’s the one who created that show on YouTube and chases after ghosts and stuff,” Shane carefully lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, taking a small sip to find that it was burning hot, just as he liked it. 

“I thought YouTube was just for cat videos. So, have you settled in with Ryan yet?” Crowley downed the last of his coffee and set down the cup on the coffee table. He leaned back into the chair, sinking down as he rested his hands against the back of his head.

“Oh, we’re just friends. I did fall in love though,” Shane smiled as he thought about his girlfriend and Crowley raised his eyebrows, silently urging him to share more. He took another sip of coffee before continuing. “Her name is Sara and we moved in together. We’ve been dating for about 5 years and we have a cat named Obi. She also works at Buzzfeed so I get to see her really often.”

“She sounds so sweet! Do you mind if I take off my sunglasses? It’s getting a bit dark in here,” Crowley asked and Shane nodded, placing down his cup of coffee as well. 

“I might as well take off my contacts. I’ve been wearing these too much nowadays since having red eyes isn’t socially acceptable anymore,” Shane sighed and took out his brown contacts, blinking his red eyes as Crowley took off his dark sunglasses to reveal his yellow, snake-like eyes. Now, up to this point, Shane and Crowley had no idea that they were being watched by Ryan Bergara. 

Ryan had a feeling that something was off with Shane ever since he met Shane. For example, Shane was able to control his emotions scarily well and he seemed to never be scared of anything. Lately, Shane has been acting more weird than usual and the last straw in convincing Ryan that Shane was a demon was how he abruptly steered Ryan away from making an episode about Armageddon. When Shane made an excuse about leaving to visit a friend, Ryan followed him. He watched Shane enter into the bookshop from the front and snuck in through the back, managing to sneak past the bookshop owner.

Ryan had been watching Crowley and Shane talk about their lives as if they hadn’t caught up in decades from behind a bookshelf. The conversation had been relatively normal, up until the point when Shane revealed his red eyes and Crowley flashed his snake-like ones. This scared Ryan so much that he jumped out from his hiding spot with a small bottle of holy water, pointing it at the two demons.

“Freeze! I have holy water and I’m not afraid to use it!” Both demons froze in place and turned around to see Ryan pointing the bottle of holy water at their faces. His eyes were wide with fear and his hands were visibly shaking. 

“You don’t want to use that,” Crowley warned and his eyes flashing with doubt and disapproval as Ryan slowly inched his way towards him and Shane. He didn’t seem too worried that Ryan would randomly use the water without being provoked but still kept a bit of caution.

“Are you both demons? Shane, what is going on?” Ryan asked with fear gripping the edge of his words. He didn’t know what the procedure was to get rid of demons via holy water so he prayed that he wouldn’t have to use it.

“Oh, Crowley, this is Ryan. Ryan, this is Crowley, an old friend of mine. And we are totally not demons,” Shane deadpanned, a mischievous grin on his face. Even when Shane knew that he could get hurt by the holy water, he couldn’t help but inject some of his classic sarcasm into the conversation. Ryan’s eyes widened and he took a giant step forward, still holding the bottle of holy water.

“You’re kidding,” Ryan stated with a questioning tone in his voice. He narrowed his eyes with suspicion as he kept slowly advancing towards Shane and Crowley.

“Yeah, you’re right. We’re both demons. Congrats, you caught us!” Shane admitted, realizing that there was literally no other excuse that could cover up the truth this time. Ryan was so shocked by the fact that he was correct that he almost dropped his holy water. 

“Ha! I knew it! I was right all along! I knew you were a demon! No human could ever create something as terrible as the Hot Daga!” Ryan exclaimed gleefully as his initial fear started to recede. However, he still maintained a firm grip on the bottle of holy water. 

“Hey! You know, some people actually enjoy watching the Hot Daga. In fact, I’m going to start another season during the post-mortem! Everybody wants to know how their favorite holographic lesbian corn is doing,” Shane responded defiantly and Crowley glanced at the two, very clearly confused by whatever they were discussing. 

“Sorry, what did you just say about a corn and a hot dog now?” Crowley asked, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Ryan glanced over at him and noticed the strange tattoo on the side of his face, and as he opened his mouth to ask about it, Aziraphale walked into the room with a pot of coffee, oblivious to the strange interactions that were occurring.

“I brought some more coffee for you two and-” Aziraphale paused when he saw Ryan and fear flashed in Ryan’s eyes again. “Oh dear, Crowley, you didn’t tell me more people were coming! Should I bring an extra cup?”

“Who are you? Are you a demon too?” Ryan turned around, pointing the bottle of holy water at the angel menacingly. Aziraphale didn’t seem to be fazed at all by Ryan’s paranoia and smiled in response to his reaction. 

“Of course not. On the contrary, I’m an angel.” Aziraphale poured coffee into the empty cups before pressing a quick kiss on Crowley’s cheek. Crowley blushed furiously but broke into a giant grin. If Ryan wasn’t so enthralled by the fact that he was talking to two demons and an angel after spending years of trying to prove that supernatural forces existed in the world, he would have found the brief but affectionate interaction adorable. 

“Wait, hold up. So, angels and demons exist? In this world?” Ryan must’ve looked really shell shocked as he took a seat in an empty chair, eyes wide with disbelief. He couldn’t process the fact that he was correct all along and Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged knowing looks, clearly having dealt with humans who had unexpectedly found out what they were before. “I definitely need to write up an episode for Unsolved for this.”

“That is if you still remember this in the morning,” Shane replied with a smirk on his face and before Ryan could ask what he meant, Shane snapped his fingers and everything faded to black. 

Ryan woke up the next morning with a noisy headache and he groaned as he rolled over in his bed, reaching for a bottle of water and taking a generous gulp of the water. He sat up in his bed and looked around the dim hotel room, wondering why he couldn’t remember half of yesterday. Ryan could only recall asking Shane where he was heading out to but couldn’t remember anything else after that. Shane was already up and dressed, and he was sitting at the desk, his eyes trained on his laptop, presumably working. 

“Hey Shane, what happened yesterday? I can’t remember anything and I have the worst headache,” Ryan pressed his fingers to his temple, hoping that would relieve the pain. Shane swiveled around in his chair to face Ryan, his warm, brown eyes magnified by his glasses. 

“You had a really bad headache when I went to visit some friends and when I came back, you were already asleep. You’ve been working too hard,” Shane answered nonchalantly and returned back to staring at his laptop screen. Ryan was unconvinced but the story Shane offered would explain the headache and gap in his memory. He decided that he was convinced and got up from bed, the headache slowly receding. By the time he, Shane, and the Buzzfeed Unsolved crew got to the airport and were waiting to board their flight back to Los Angeles, the headache was gone. 

Ryan forgot about that strange headache until they were filming the first post-mortem for the new Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural season. After Shane and Ryan finished answering all the questions they chose, Shane went to his Google docs app and Ryan knew that he was screwed. Just as Ryan finished the outro, Shane immediately began, “I would now like to-”

“I thought you weren’t doing a new season of this horrible little cartoon of yours,” Ryan dropped his head in his hands, letting out an exasperated sigh. Shane paused and grinned, staring directly into the camera. 

“Well everybody wants to know how their favorite holographic lesbian corn is doing so I just had to continue this thrilling saga!” Shane continued on to read the story from his phone and Ryan frowned as he tried to remember where he heard that same specific phrase from. Suddenly, memories of the afternoon before his headache in London spottily flashed back in Ryan’s mind in fragments. He remembered seeing Shane with red eyes and his friend’s yellow, snake-like eyes. The words “angel” and “demon” were floating around with those memories, and Ryan was pulled out of his memories and back into reality. 

Nobody in the comments section pointed out Ryan’s disturbed look as that was generally the look he always wore during the Hot Daga and since Shane was still loudly reading his story, Ryan could only sit and wonder if what he just remembered was a vivid fantasy or reality.

~

check out my bfu fics by clicking the link in my profile :)

[shiroblack]

My mind is very dirty sorry to all who read this

So for those who saw my last post about Gabriel and Belzzebu this is my perverted and dirty thought

Starting from the same premise where Gabriel and Belzzebu came to earth to spend some time with the "half brothers" in order to understand how they did not die in the trials, they begin to follow Aziraphale and Crowley in their dates, and one day things go a little bit out of control among our favorite celestial beings so imagine this scene:

Aziraphale and Crowley kissing passionately (not sexually, just love) while Belzzebu is totally baffled and Gabriel dying of shame and discomfort, So both of our heroes realize that their "little brothers" never participated in any sexual act, in fact, both virgins and without any knowledge about it. Then Crowley suggested: "They should watch" Crowley said clearly joking and being Scolded by Aziraphale Shortly there after

The days were passing is Belzzebu and Gabriel did not take the scene of their heads, is the idea of ​​watching was cooking on the heads of both, especially Gabriel's, Then one night, when Crowley and Zira were in a more intimate moment Gabriel went to peek, He watched only the kisses, did not have the courage to see to the end, more out of shame than anything.

In Crowley's apartment Belzzebu was more incisive, asked many questions, related to both carnal and emotional sensations Crowley had already been a nanny, and explaining about birds and bees has never been so traumatic, So without much patience, he tells Belzzebu to go to a certain site and watch videos (I do not think it is necessary to tell which site it would be)

Belzzebu watched the videos, sata and God knows how many videos he watched, and he liked and wanted to try, but now the question came "What creature would be able to do with one of the lords of hell???"

Belzzebu did not have to think hard to find an answer: "an angel"

In the other Date that Aziraphale and Crowley had both noticed something strange about Belzzebu, he was looking at least strangely at Gabriel.

In Crowley's apartment he seemed genuinely concerned about his brother's attitude, Gabriel was not a flower to be smelled and all he wanted was to spend time with his angel.

In the bookstore Aziraphale gave several books to Gabriel, novels, biology and by irony, also pornography. And Gabriel read each and bombed Aziraphale with questions and more questions.

Both brothers who lived the longest on earth began to get really worried about their brothers' attitudes, Aziraphale found some curiosities cute, and Crowley just hated having to look The curious eyes of Belzzebu every time he returned home after sleeping with Aziraphale.

After much study (from both sides) who took the initiative the old enemy to a Date was Gabriel, He was convinced that since Aziraphale was top, he too would be, it should be something natural for an angel, stand over a demon and show him his place, He was wrong.

HE WAS VERY WRONG.

Crowley joked about the rule of the five dates Before going to bed, but Belzzebu took seriously, So the Dates were more or less like this.

1° Simple meeting, walked in the park neither ate anything, just talked

2° Gabriel invited Belzzebu to spend an afternoon in the bookstore, again only talked

3° Belzzebu tried to do something for Gabriel to eat, it went very wrong, resulting in a Crowley screaming about his kitchen being destroyed. In the end they drank a tea that Aziraphale had given to Crowley shortly ago (First meal that Gabriel even tasted)

4° They went running in the park, it was a fun experience for both of them.

5° They both found that each other's company was pleasant to say the least, and they ended up kissing, then things went downhill.

In what was supposed to be the 6th Date they went to a motel, Gabriel was at least glowing with excitement. Belzzebu looked very calm, as if it were something already I had done it millions of times.

As the bedroom door closed Gabriel felt his body in the wall and the small body of Beelzebub near his own, and he felt as if all the fire of hell were in the room He had never felt anything so intense in all his existence.

Belzzebu knew more or less what he was doing had watched many videos.

Gabriel was quite lost in reality, not quite sure where to put his hands or how to react to the lush kisses he was receiving, Plus he felt really good, something bothered in the middle of the legs, but the experience as a whole was being much better than he imagined

Now both already naked, a little wave of shame went through Gabriel, he was in excellent shape, he was very attractive no doubt about it Even so when Belzzebu appeared completely naked in front of his eyes He doubted all his attributes, and a whirlwind of thought passed through his heavenly little head, Belzzebu noticed the doubts and insecurities in the purple eyes that faced her so cedarly and that made her excited, a totally vulnerable Gabriel, was a delightful sight.

The kisses were better now, the contact with the skin devoid of layers of clothing, the nervous lips of Gabriel was an experience that Belzzebu could not describe in words.

Gabriel was very nervous, he could not just kiss for much longer, Belzzebu's skin was soft and his small breasts touching his chest were making him go Crazy

The penetration did not hurt as much as Beelzebub imagined it would hurt, now Gabriel seemed to be about to have a heart attack, as if all the pleasure he was feeling was going to blow him up.

It had been a few minutes, Beelzebub sitting on Gabriel's lap feeling his whole being burned pleasantly, finally understanding why humans had so much proliferated, Gabriel's moans were cute, the way he controlled himself so as not to beg her to go faster was also lovely, he was adorable, at least in his eyes

Gabriel could not take it any longer, he needed to come, but every time he approached his full pleasure Beelzebub slowed. The more he needed to come,more his body trembled and he could barely put together related sentences, so that was the feeling that made humans spread? It was no wonder there were so many of them.

Belzzebu was aware of the situation the angel partner needed to relieve himself, he did not even know how long he would take all that pleasure, so he made a request, or rather gave an order:

"Beg, say you want to Come and I'll let you come inside me"

Honestly Gabriel did not know what was right or wrong anymore, so he begged, shouted and begged with all the Forces remaining, when Belzzebu roasted his shoulders as support to increase speed both shouted in pleasure It was too much for Gabriel to bear, he came in a deliciously sinful groan, at least To the ears of Belzzebu, who also ended up coming Together with him more quietly.

When Belzzebu came home Crowley was waiting for her with a look that bordered on the mockery and curiosities, he would not ask anything, However he would like to know if it was all right between the two, Beelzebub did not give details but said that everything was fine, that was enough for Crowley, already in the bookstore Aziraphale had locked himself In his bedroom, hi covered his ears with his fingers so he would not hear every sordid detail Gabriel proudly spoke of.

[padfootagain]

Rob The Bank

So… here I am, writing for a new fandom!! But these two are too adorable for me to resist!! So here it a cute little thing :) I hope you all like it. Of course, as I've started writing for them, you can ask requests for them from now on! I will not be writing reader inserts for them though, I ship these two too much for that.

Gif not mine

Word count : 4594

Aziraphale was the one to be easily fooled. He was also the one to get into trouble because of it often. His kind and trusting nature was undoubtedly to blame for this pattern. He seemed to miss all the signs of betrayal that were thrown at him, until the deception was so obvious it was actually unfolding for the entire world to see. Not that Aziraphale was stupid, he had come out of difficult situations, and with a little bit of time forcing wisdom into his brain, he had been able to avoid some traps set on his path. Still, more often than not, the angel found himself in a trap, and Crowley generally came to the rescue. A little miracle and pouf! Everyone could go home safe and sound, or well, knowing Aziraphale, chances were that he would invite the demon for an excellent meal as a gesture of gratitude.

But not this time.

This time, it was Crowley who found himself trapped behind bars. And he still couldn't believe how he had found himself in this tiny cell.

His mission was simple though. It was the second half of the 19th century, the migration in the Western parts of the continent was going strong in the US. And despite the dry weather and few people around, the little towns were popping out of the ground like mushrooms colonizing the ground of a rainy forest in autumn. The rash weather and the isolation from bigger cities made these new towns a perfect playground for the demon. And he had found the perfect weapon.

Saloons.

Easy to build, easy to finance, easy to take care of afterwards and it held a power of destruction that no one in Hell had foreseen (including him). Alcohol was the perfect catalyst for violence and stupid actions. Crowley merely had to make sure that every person in the desert would have a chance to get a few glasses of whiskey. Humans would do the rest of the job. Even better, Crowley had found out that planting both a saloon and a bank in the same town increased exponentially the disruption in this area. From murders to robberies, the list of crimes was reaching the stars.

At least, that was the official version he had given to his superiors in Hell. The reality was that humans had created this abomination that was alcohol all by themselves, and they had felt the need that one of the first things that any man, no matter where he was in the world, should have access to was alcohol. Apparently, it was much more important to them to get whiskey rather than healthy food, provisions, medications, doctors or any other goods and skills that could increase their lifespan. Which is why they created saloons. And seeing the results, Crowley had claimed it all as his own idea when the question had been asked to him if he had been in the initiative of this or not. Now, obviously, it was expected from him to make sure the saloons bloomed through the desert like roses in Kensington Gardens in June. And so he did. After all, he didn't really have a choice.

However, he had been surprised at first not to see anything coming from the other side, but he reckoned that Aziraphale was too busy trying to save a few Native Americans. A point Crowley had not foreseen happening entirely, but understood now. Humans were greedy. Humans were unrespectful. Humans were quick at pointing at differences and claiming them as arguments for establishing different values amongst people. The colour of one's skin, their language, their traditions… as soon as these aspects parted from their own, they were considered as a proof that these people they didn't know and had never met before were their inferiors. And when Europeans had first set foot on the American continent, neither Crowley nor Aziraphale had imagined that they would decide that slaughtering entire civilizations and stealing people's lands and belongings and traditions and freedom would be a good way to start their adventures on this brand-new piece of land. But looking back, Crowley reckoned that they had both been fools. Slavery and slaughters had always been a part of human history, why would it change now?

Crowley brought back his mind on the present with a loud sigh. It wasn't the time to drift back towards the past and meditate on the stupidity of the human race. So he brought back his train of thoughts back on the issue he was dealing with before his mind drifted away.

Aziraphale. Trying to save people in the wild west. Explanation to why Crowley was left building saloons and banks all around the US freely.

Crowley had been opening a brand new establishment in this little town set in the middle of absolutely nowhere when troubles he had not foreseen were thrown upon him. Which, he reckoned, was particularly unfair. He had been merely minding his own little business, and there came trouble, without invitation or provocation.

Two dirty-looking rascals had walked into the new saloon. With a few drinks in them, they had shared with Crowley their plan of robbing the bank set right across the street. Their plan though, as they presented it to him, seemed altogether rather messy, at best. So of course, Crowley had considered it his duty to help them out by giving them a few ideas of his. He knew they would work well, he had helped planning another robbery in a nearby town just a month before.

And that was when the treachery happened.

For the two rascals were indeed not rascals. Despite their pitiful looks, they worked for the sheriff and they had been looking for the brain behind the robbery that had happened in the neighbouring town. And Crowley had fallen right into the fire.

Before he knew what was happening, the sheriff had thrown him into this disgusting cell. He was accused of orchestrating the first robbery and trying to hire people to attempt a second stunt. And Crowley felt very offended by both statements as :

a)     He had not been a part of the first robbery, had never even set a foot in the building in question, and had merely given a few advices, just like he had attempted to do again in the saloon with the two fake rascals.

b)     He had never tried to hire anyone and was merely minding his own business in the first place.

He could have tried to miracle his way out of it. But he had been using quite a lot of these to build up his demonical plan spreading alcohol and money-reservoirs across the western lands. And he reckoned that using a major miracle now would only pull too much attention towards him. Considering his arrangement with the angel and his own personal appreciation of his freedom of actions on Earth, he was more than reluctant at using his powers for this.

He would have to find another way out of this. But how?

He was deeply thinking about this in the middle of the night, the cell and sheriff's house all filled with shadows, lying on the very hard bench he would have to call a bed for the evening, when he felt a familiar shudder shaking the air.

It was not much, just a presence nearby. A little tremor through the stillness of the night, like a whisper carried by the wind. He recognized it instantly though. It was always around him, in the distance, and he didn't pay much attention to the acknowledgement of it that constantly took place at the back of his mind, except when the presence was not far but closer, causing bigger ripples in the velvet canva of the Universe than usual. Suddenly, this tremor in the air had grown strong enough for Crowley to be fully aware of it, and a smile formed on his lips before the door even opened upon the familiar silhouette of Aziraphale.

The silvery moon embraced his shape in an almost surreal contrast with the rest of the world drenched with shadows. He was wearing a white ensemble from the tip of his cowboy boots to the edge of his hat, that formed a sheer but familiar contrast with the black clothes Crowley wore. He had a little bit of dust upon him, that coloured slightly his white suit and long beige coat in a yellow-to-brownish shade. His skin seemed either a little tanned or merely coloured by the dust as well, it was hard to tell from Crowley's place in the cell. After all, the angel had not alit any candle yet, the demon could only count on his developed sight for now.

Aziraphale hurried inside and urgently closed the door behind him. He searched for Crowley through the shadows, but it took him less than a second to spot the slender form lying in the cell.

"Crowley! Is that you?"

"Who else could it be?" the demon answered, standing up and resting his hands against the bars.

"What have you done again, you silly snake?!"

Aziraphale advanced through the room until he faced his friend – although he would never admit out loud that Crowley was his friend, of course, wrong sides and all these technicalities… - until he was standing right before the cell, and it looked almost as if Crowley had placed his hands against a wall on either sides of the angel.

"I didn't even do anything!" Crowley protested. "I didn't! I was just opening a saloon, 's all!"

"Opening a saloon?"

"Well of course! Temptation, chaos, crimes, and all that. And then these two guys arrived and for some reason they put me in that cell!"

"They say you've… robbed a bank!" Aziraphale tried to control how loud he spoke to not draw the attention of anyone who could have been passing by before the building. But at this ungodly hour of the night, there was no one outside but a few rats and the whispering of the wind in deep conversation with the leaves of the crooked tree growing down the street.

Or well, almost no one…

"They're going to hang you, Crowley!"

The demon raised an eyebrow.

"Well… that is a little extreme for merely being accused of orchestrating a robbery…"

"Not here, it's not. They're going to hang you! You have to miracle your way out of this!"

"I can't. Used too many miracles lately, I can't draw attention on myself or they might learn about our little arrangement."

Aziraphale shuddered, but nodded.

"Alright, I'll get you out then."

Crowley could hardly refrain the grin that started to form on his lips.

"Well, if you could hurry then, Angel…"

But the loud echoes of boots hitting the wooden ground right on the threshold echoed, and Aziraphale panicked. He grimaced, trembled, his eyebrows shot up towards his hairline as his eyes grew rounder and bigger than saucers and his lips parted in a horrified 'O' shape.

"No, don't panic, get me out…" Crowley tried to calm his friend down, but it was too late.

Aziraphale was gone.

"Angel!" Crowley called, and his friend reappeared for a mere second.

"I'll get you out later."

"Why? No! Now!"

"They'll look up for you everywhere if I do. Don't worry, I have a plan."

The door unlocked and Aziraphale let out a loud gasp that was halfway towards a shriek before he vanished into thin air again.

Crowley cursed under his breath as the Sheriff walked in, but there was nothing he could. He had to wait for rescue…

 --------------------------------------------------------------

 Crowley was starting to become a little worried. As his executioner was tightening the knot around his neck, he was beginning to think that, despite the risks coming from Hell, he might be wiser to miracle his way out of this one now. He reckoned that the paperwork coming with him being discorporated would bring much more wrath upon him than producing a miracle.

The sun was too hot and the air too dry, the dust swept away by the harsh wind stuck to Crowley’s sweaty skin. He had asked as a last will to keep his sunglasses, but his black hat had been taken away, and he regretted the accessory. If he was constantly amazed by how people in this part of the world constantly found ways to spread chaos, he couldn’t deny that he preferred the climate in London right now…

The crowd that had gathered to watch his execution shuddered with excitement. Crowley had not been paying much attention to the executioner as he enumerated the laws the demon had broken and that led him there, to be cooking up under the too hot sun like an egg in a pan. And he guessed that the executioner must have had a moment of eloquence to make the crowd so excited all of a sudden. Crowley did not pay any attention to it all, however.

Instead, his snake-like eyes were searching through the crowd. He couldn’t believe Aziraphale was not here. Or well, actually, he knew his best friend was here, he could feel it. But where by the Devil’s name was he hiding?

A glint of beige caught his eyes, seeming even brighter under the intense sunlight, and Crowley’s lips curved up at the corners as he finally recognized the angel.

He was dressed in the same manner as Crowley had seen him the previous night, and the demon didn’t fail to notice that his clothes were a little more covered with dust than the previous night. Catching his friend’s gaze, Aziraphale couldn’t refrain a nervous smile. He gave Crowley a nod, letting him know he had the situation under control. To which the demon replied by painting on his features an expression that meant "better hope so, angel".

There was an excited tremor through the crowd as the executioner rested his hand on the lever that would open the hatch under Crowley’s feet. But all the while, Crowley kept his attention focused upon Aziraphale. And the angel’s lips formed the smallest of smiles as he looked at Crowley, a content look on his kind features, sign that everything was going as planned.

And if Crowley had any doubts left (and he would not easily admit that he already had no doubts left the second he spotted Aziraphale standing there in the crowd), they dissipated with the sight of the angel's content little wiggle. So Crowley didn’t try anything. It was as much as his trust in the angel was absolute: as the lever was pulled and the hatch under his feet opened and he felt gravity pulling him down towards the ground and the rope around his neck slip up a little, he didn’t do anything. He didn’t try any miracle of his own. He let Aziraphale save him, thinking that he would have to make sure to buy his friend the best meal he could find. And as the rope stopped his fall and he started to feel the knot digging into his skin, he closed his eyes.

 --------------------------------------------------------------------

 Aziraphale was generally a patient man, but not so much when he was worried. He then had a tendency to wiggle a little more than usual, pace a lot and imagine the scenes that would occur in his mind thousands of times. But now it was more than nervousness. It was impatience. Pure and simple. After all, even if everything was going as planned so far, it was still a messy and rather risky business he was going through. The sooner he was getting it all over with, the better.

So, while he was waiting at the undertaker, he kept on pacing in the man's office. Ten minutes he had been waiting for the man already, he was certain that he was going to lose his mind. Besides, he was not at all where he was supposed to be. He couldn't stop himself from worrying about either his or Crowley's side learning that he was here, with Crowley lying in a coffin next door…

"Mr… Azira… fell…"

He jumped as a rather crooked and old man appeared behind him.

"Aziraphale. Yes, hello, sir." The angel's face broke with a bright grin.

"Right… so, ya' here for the robber?"

"Yes, indeed. I would very much like to get back his body. He's a cousin of mine, no matter the terrible things he seems to have done, and he should be resting with our family…"

The old man shushed him with a quick and rather impolite gesture of the hand.

"Whatever, no one 'lse gonna claim tha' bastard. Be off wi' him 'en."

"Really? Oh, thank you, my good sir!" Aziraphale shook the man's hand with a thankful and relieved smile.

He had expected some checking of his parentage with Crowley, or at least more questions… but he guessed that the authorities, just like the undertaker, didn't care much about a hanged man.

"Can ya take him now?" the grumpy man asked.

"Oh, yes. Of course."

"Good, well, then, go ahead. Do you want me to put him in a coffin?"

"Well… is it not what one is supposed to do with a… dead body?" Aziraphale frowned.

"Do ya 'eally think I'm gonna waste my time wi' a culprit? I got better things to do wi' my time!"

"Of course… well, if you could just put him in a coffin anyway, I would be grateful. After all, we need to get out of town, and I would rather have everything looking as normal as possible."

"Can you pay fo' the coffin? These things ain't fo' free."

"Of course, I can."

As if to prove his point, Aziraphale showed him some money with a large smile, and at the sight of coins, the undertaker finally seemed to be a little less grumpy than before.

Only a few minutes later, the coffin, that turned out to be little more than a big wooden box, was put at the back of Aziraphale's wagon. As he guided his horses forward and across town, the angel couldn't help but imagine that most people he passed by were suspiciously staring at him, but then, he figured that it might have been his imagination mingling with his strong awareness of doing something secret and illegal – according to both human laws and the laws of Heaven and Hell. But then, the situation called for desperate measures, there was nothing he could do about it.

He didn't slow down nor stop before he was out of town and couldn't see any sign of civilization around him anymore. By then, the sun had sunk beyond the horizon already, and the velvety sky had chosen to wear a dark purple shade instead of its usual blue. The orangish dust of the desert was blown by the wind in little spirals that erased the traces left by the wheels of the wagon. Aziraphale had been careful in leaving no trace of their journey.

He finally heaved a relieved sigh, letting his eyes rest for a few seconds on the distant chasm of the canyons carved in red stone, barely visible under the shy light of the crescent moon. Stars were beginning to appear here and there, tiny spots of burning gas light-years away. Aziraphale couldn't help but feel a little sting of melancholy as his eyes drifted amongst the shining lights, the thought crossing his mind that some of them were not up there anymore, that they had already died out and exploded into clouds of atoms along time ago, and that the light he saw now was but their handprint left on the sky.

But he quickly shook himself out of his thought, bringing himself back to the matter at hand. He turned around to the wooden coffin, and with a mere snap of his fingers, he opened the top.

Crowley was lying there, eyes closed, hands resting on his abdomen, looking paler than usual, his red hair pushed back to reveal his thin face. And for a moment, Aziraphale was hit by the truth that this time, his best friend, his only friend really, when he came to think of it, or at least the only one he could really rely on no matter what may happen, could truly have died out there. He would have been merely discorporated, and would most likely have been back after a short while, but Aziraphale couldn't imagine what kind of troubles he would have run into in Hell. He imagined that being discorporated would have gotten him into the worst kind of trouble indeed… He shuddered at the thought. He shuddered at the thought that he had come so close to losing the only being that understood him. He blamed for it the millennia they had spent alone on Earth, but he knew deep down that there was something more to it. He chose not to investigate further on his own feelings for now, however, and instead pushed away the dreadful thought of Crowley's pain and gently touched the demon's shoulder.

"Crowley? We're in the clear. Wake up."

But the demon didn't move, making Aziraphale frown.

"Crowley?"

He shook the demon's shoulder, but again, his friend remained motionless. And all of a sudden, the angel was taken over by such a tidal wave of pure and agonizing panic.

What if something had gotten wrong? What if Aziraphale had failed his miracle? What if… what if Crowley was dead because of him?

"Crowley! Crowley! Oh no… oh dear…"

He shook the demon some more, feeling his heart breaking in his chest in such a painful way he had never experienced before, not even when he had had to witness the Great Flood, or all these people dying of new diseases like the plague or the smallpox… these touched humans and if he truly loved them, Crowley touched another string in Aziraphale's heart. Something that echoed deeper, something more personal somehow, something he had both chosen and not chosen at all… He could hardly express it into words, all he knew was that he was more afraid and hurt than he had ever been before.

But then, the most beautiful sound echoed around him, and he heaved a relieved sigh, finally acknowledging the tears that had appeared in his eyes.

Crowley let out a low groan, before opening one eye.

"Angel?" he asked in a hoarse, raspy voice.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, you scared me so much!"

Crowley let out a second guttural sound.

"Let's never do that again," he sighed, rubbing his painful neck. "I feel like I've been trampled by a horse."

Aziraphale helped him sitting up.

"You could have just miracled me out of there. You didn't need to overdo it," Crowley complained.

"Yes, but then, they would know you were alive, and they… they would have been looking for you. Dead or alive. You would have been in danger."

Crowley couldn’t refrain the smile that formed on his lips at the sight of the worried angel by his side.

"Well, I'm alright, and they think I'm dead. Should I say thank you?"

"No need for that."

"I reckon I shouldn't linger around here too long still."

"Probably not."

Crowley finally noticed that he didn't have his sunglasses anymore, and he winced. Until Aziraphale reached for his pocket.

Silently, the angel handed him his pair of glasses, and Crowley was so touched by the gesture that he merely thanked the angel with a smile. He hesitated to put them on, but changed his mind. After all, there was only Aziraphale around, and he reckoned that if there was one person in this Universe with whom he could be himself, it was the angel. So instead of placing them on his nose, he put them safely in the pocket of his vest.

He climbed out of the coffin and came to sit next to Aziraphale, who was looking up at the stars again.

"What were you doing at all out there anyway?" Aziraphale asked his friend, without taking his eyes off the burning lights.

"I told you, I was opening a saloon."

"Oh, I should have known you were behind these. Do you know how much bad alcohol does to this world?! Or well… rather their excessive use of it."

"It wasn't my idea. Humans found that all by themselves. But then I was asked by my side if I had invented these, and I could hardly tell the truth. Now, I'm expected to open more of those."

"I see," Aziraphale nodded, his voice calmer again.

"And then I was accused of a crime I didn't even commit! I didn't even rob these banks, or organized anything. I did give the robbers an advice or two, but you can hardly speak of me as the mastermind behind it all even then. Actually… perhaps I should rob a bank. Right now. We should do it together. We go to the next town and we rob the bank, so at least, they will have tried to discorporate me for a real reason."

"Us robbing bank? Don't be ridiculous," Aziraphale replied, trying to sound outraged, but he was merely amused, really.

"What about you? I heard you were trying to help with the slaughtering."

"I'm afraid I am losing though, Crowley. I am trying to make them see that they all can live peacefully together but… they always end up stealing and then killing and… I don't know how I can make things better."

Crowley remained silent for a moment, a saddened expression on his face.

"Well… if I have to get away for a while to avoid being discorporated, and if you can't do anything to stop humans from stupidly slaughtering each others… what about we take a little break."

"A break?" Aziraphale asked back, finally looking at the demon next to him.

Crowley nodded.

"For how long have you been away from your bookshop?"

"Oh dear… I think it has been years…"

"We should go back to London for a while. We can't do anything good or bad here anyway. We could go home."

"We can't Crowley, we have… missions to do and…"

"Oh, come on! You can't stop them from killing each other. And I can't go back or they'll hang me again. So what is the point? We're not abandoning her missions, we're just… facing the harsh reality that we cannot succeed this time. Besides… who cares? They're not going to check on us, Angel. No one will know. Wouldn't you rather be back home, with your books and some nice tea?"

"Oh, right before coming here, I found this very rare edition of some of Rousseau's The Social Contract… a real beauty." Aziraphale let himself be convinced, and he was suddenly full of this adorable excitement of his. "I have to show you!"

A rather tender smile formed on Crowley's features, although he would have denied that he was even capable of feeling tenderness at all.

"I'd love to see it, Angel."

"But first… what about we stay here for a moment?" Aziraphale proposed, with a slight blush blooming on his cheeks that he failed to hide. "The stars are particularly beautiful tonight, don't you think?"

Crowley looked up at the sky, his same tender smile still on his lips, but it was hard to tell then if when he spoke again he was really talking about the stars, or something else entirely.

"You're right, Angel. It all makes a rather beautiful sight."

***********************************

Tag list : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi @imafangirlofeverything 

[incorrigible-groupie]

why the "I lost my best friend" scene in Good Omens is the worst

(For four reasons)

Number one ! Someone on Twitter said that the last time Aziraphale was on the phone with Crowley, Crow said that he was with an old friend. So Az thought Crow was talking about someone else when he said « best friend ». Dumbass.

Number two ! That’s something I realized on my own, but when Az is in front of Crow - and let’s not talk about the fact that the only place, THE ONLY PLACE where he materialize is next to Crow, you know, like this is where he belongs… - when he is in front of Crow, he actually can’t see him. He is totally blind, go watch it again if you don’t believe me. So not only he doesn’t know Crow thinks he is his best friend. But even if one day he finds out, he will never know how much devastated Crow was, because he didn’t see him. AH.

Number three ! Does Crow see him, or does he just feel him ? Actually ? Like, Az can’t see Crow and Crow can’t see Az too ? It could make sense, that Crowley can’t see how Aziraphale was disappointed by the fact that he wasn’t his best friend, I mean he would have say something otherwise ! You know, being the annoying demon he is.

Also, Crow seemed surprised when Az stopped to talk to him, like he didn’t expect him to disappear, while we saw clearly that Az was dissolving… like Peter Parker after the Snap!

The fact that we could see it doesn’t mean that THEY could see it.

I have a theory that, we see Crowley as David Tennant and Aziraphale as Michael Sheen because we want to see them that way. The same reason why we hear them speaking english… why would they speak english, of all languages, is God British too? That would also explain why in 6000 years no one in the universe said « hey, they looked like someone I saw on a painting, or an old photograph ! » I mean technically Az and Crow don’t have faces they’re an angel and a demon, you really want to know how they looked like in the Bible ? Don’t. It’s actually terrifying. So maybe some people see them as women, some people see them as men or women of color. The only thing that never disappear is their… mark that represent them, you know like the snake or the golden stripes like… I wonder what is Aziraphale’s mark. Could be his blue eyes (you know like the Velvet Underground song) or his white hair, I mean he never change his haircut !

He never change his haircut... I think that’s most because, well angels and demons are not supposed to look like humans. The best thing about humanity, the thing that Aziraphale and Crowley adore, is this capacity to evolve. But when you’re an angel or a demon you can’t evolve, you have one job to do, one place to go, one thing to deal with for all eternityyyyyyy. BUT Crowley doesn’t give a damn about it, so you can clearly see that he evolves with the humans by watching his haircut, and Aziraphale is WAY to scared to do that. Because the angels are bitches with him, pushing him on the wall, probably even strangling him with his bow tie. (Let’s not talk about the fact that when it’s Crowley he trusts him so much that he’s not even scared, not even if he’s traumatized. OH MY GOSH.)

Anyway, about their appearance, Crowley and Aziraphale recognized themselves maybe because they just feel each other ? How would Aziraphale know Crowley was still demon otherwise ? You know, before the oysters thingy. Az knew Crow was still a demon but the other demons didn’t realize during the trial that it wasn’t Crowley, WHAT KIND OF COLLEGUES ARE THEY ??? 

(((By the way, the whole swapping moment, unbelievable. Every details the actors put on their way to play those character, with such love it’s… DAMN. Thank you so much whoever had the idea to put David and Michael together. I knew David thanks to Doctor Who and Jessica Jones (great season 1 and loved season 3), but I discovered Michael thanks to Good Omens. He is such a great actor and… I’m actually watching Masters Of Sex, a nice show by the way it’s like Sex Education but much mature, and way sadder. Like Michael Sheen is Otis, and Lizzy Caplan is Maeve, kinda. I watch Masters Of Sex, and I’m ace ! WHAT THE HECK ?? What was I talking about again ?)))

Number four ! I really, truly believe that Az and Crow think they are friends, BUT. That’s because they didn’t experience love the same way as we, humans, does.

What is love ? Baby don’t hurt me SORRY

But seriously who was the first one who loved Az and Crow « unconditionally » ? Yeah I’m talking about the Big One. Which I think is gender fluid, you can’t mess up that much while being a woman. Also Big One Almighty have a «woman» voice but it’s okay to call Them Lord ? Also okay to say They are Jesus’ Father ?

Oh yeah and let’s talk about Jesus, because it was a big deal for the angel and the demon. So the Almighty, their Creator, their Dad/Mum, Who should forgive everyone, smashed angels into the ground so they became demons, drown an entire civilization because They weren’t happy about it, let Their own son, Their own son, die ! If this is really the definition of love, then love is an abusive bullshit. Aziraphale is with the angels, who are supposed to be good so probably full of love, a love they like to demonstrate while choking him. And Crowley, Crowley… I really think he is sad about Jesus’ death like, it pushed him on his limits. After Jesus died, he cut his gorgeous hair for the first time, he began to be bitter with Aziraphale, he didn’t even search for Aziraphale ! I’m sure Crowley adored Jesus and it was like « well if even a demon can melt for that little fellow the Almighty must be so full of love for him » and then he was nailed on a cross ! I’m sure J stands for Jesus, and like do you know what are the initials of Anthony J Crowley ? AJC ! Like After Jesus Christ ! Am I going to far ! YES OBVIOUSLY !

All I’m saying is… Letting your son to suffer ? And to die ? Is that love ? Is that what Crowley is supposed to feel for Aziraphale ? Is that what Aziraphale think about Crowley ? Heck no. So they definitely are not lovers. Soul mate ? I saw that some people think Aziraphale and Crowley were one single soul before the fall, which is kinda true because in the first version of the Book by Pratchett and Gaiman there was only one demon. And after the fall their soul might have been split in two, one being Crowley and the other being Aziraphale and… they’re always together because they only feel complete when they have each other. Which is cute. But I don’t really like the fact that they aren’t their own soul, I don’t know. I don’t like the fact that they aren’t their own individuals. Also it doesn’t explain why Az didn’t even know what was Crow’s name while Crowley knew that Aziraphale had the flaming sword AHA.

(((Oh! Some people think that Az is War’s dad, because he gave the first weapon to humanity and I’m like… YES ! And Crow gave people knowledge and free will and to have free will is to have the right to not fight, so to make peace so in a way Crowley created Peace ? Does that make sense ?)))

My point is Az and Crow are really bad at their job because that’s all it is, begin a demon or an angel at the end, it’s a job. Gabriel, Belzebuth, they’re not doing it by conviction, they’re doing it because they think they were told to do so. Well, they have the conviction that they are following a Plan but you know, like okay so we’re on this side, the enemy is on the other side but it’s just like chess there are black pawns and there are white pawns. You just have to win.

And they all follow God’s Plan ? Which is weird because demons shouldn’t follow God’s Plan right ???? Does Lucifer was like « oh yeah let’s please the Big One by creating the being who can provoke the Apocalypse what do you mean I’m a rebel ? ». Lucifer didn’t look like Tom Ellis either, by the way. Maybe, you know, in American Gods way, the fact that we believe so much that Lucifer is a monster he became one, just like the fact that Adam believe Lucifer isn’t his dad made him… not his dad. 

The power of Faith humans have.

I don’t think that it was a test for humans, like yeah the Antechrist who was raised by humans decided that Earth was worth saving kinda mean we won because there is still hope for us can i hear a yahoo… 

But actually I think that God, as messed up as They may be, is the biggest shipper of us all. 

I think the all Apocalypse thing was a test for Aziraphale and Crowley. To show their true nature.

Like I said before, they sucked at their job. Which is what make them lovable. God probably knew and God probably wanted them to be free, free of Heaven and Hell because the Apocalypse was their limit. All the other missions they did on Earth were obsolete compare to that, so all they could do was to raise their voice this time like « no freaking way we don’t want to do this mission ». If God didn’t mess with the delivery of the baby, you know the exchange and all that stuff, none of this would have happened. Az and Crow had been together for 6000 years but this mission ? This mission showed them how much they want to stay on earth, and why, and yes of course one of the reasons is so they could be together pffff…

You know, if they didn’t have the opportunity to scare the angels and the demons so they should leave them alone (during the trial), their relationship surely wouldn’t have grown that much. Having lunch to the Ritz was a big step. They wanted SO MUCH to be together, and only their status was keeping them appart. I read a theory that the main reason why Crow hated to be called «nice», when it didn’t bother him before, was because being nice is something Az love about Crow. He doesn’t care that he shouldn’t be nice, clearly he doesn’t care what the demons think of him, he’s even prepared in case they try to kill him. (YOU KNOW THE KIND OF THINGS YOU DO BETWEEN COLLEGUES !) But Az does care about what his colleagues think because he is scared of them and so he can’t love a demon, even if that demon is nice. So, when Az calls Crowley «nice», it reminds of Crowley that not only Aziraphale likes him, but also that he shouldn’t be and that’s the reason why Aziraphale can’t be with him.

But now that they’re both free, Aziraphale can call Crowley « kind » and Crowley can imagine a future with Aziraphale, they can have a relationship. They can kiss, or not, if that’s not what they are into. Aziraphale could have a beard and no bow tie to be choke with. Crowley could have his snake eyes less obvious, his snake tattoo smaller. 

With a bookshop full of plants.

And maybe one day they will realize that love isn’t something that should be abusive or maybe they will find another human word that describe their relationship. But until then there’s no word to describe how much they are connected to each other. 

It’s simply… ineffable.

[eturni]

Day 23 - Ghosts

It’s day 23 of @drawlight‘s advent calender prompt list https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/188869931294/aziraphale-crowley-for-half-an-hour-youve-been and today is ghosts.

This ended up being the mandatory crackfic chapter and includes a haunted doll helping to celebrate Candlenights.

Crowley halted inside the doorway of A. Z. Fell’s bookshop, a sense of unease skittering up his spine. He froze, as though the lack of movement would protect him from prying eyes, and slowly looked around the shop to try and get any idea of what was so wrong.

“Angel? Everything clear?” He called out cautiously, not quite letting the door close behind him just in case. It had been a short few months since the world didn’t end and everything still held a little bit of the feeling that time was holding it’s breath waiting for something to go wrong.

The silence stretched for seconds that felt more like centuries before Aziraphale appeared from the back with a bright, unaffected smile in place. In fact, if anything, it grew when he spotted the demon in the doorway. “Ah, Crowley dear. Good to see you again in such short order.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow but nodded tersely. “Yeah. I mean, already gone freelance right. What’s it matter now. No… No angels or anything here causing trouble?”

He cautiously stepped in when the angel gave a baffled shake of his head. “Then what-” Crowley stopped, straightening like an adder-strike. Felt more like his lot. Felt spooky. “Did you put Halloween stuff up?”

“Oh.” Aziraphale brightened in that way that told Crowley he’d worked something out but still shook his head. “No, not at all. That will be dear Nora. She’s my newest holiday acquisition.” He declared proudly before leading Crowley to the back corner of the room.

There, beside the tree and peeking out as though plotting something against the world was a little doll in a blue sari and gold hijab. She wouldn’t have been out of place as a stand in for Mary in a slightly more accurate nativity representation… if it weren’t for the pits where eyes should be and the fact that it gave off the very distinct energy of something that was possessed.

The demon blinked. He did his best to try and process what he was seeing. “Aziraphale.” He wet his lips, still coming up blank for a moment. “Look, I know you love midwinter and I know we’ve come across a lot of weird stuff in the name of celebrating it but… what the actual fuck? Did you bring back the human sacrifice bit of it? What the hell is going on here?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes at the suggestion. “Well dear, have you ever heard of the McElroy brothers?”

Continue on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638803/chapters/52335700 or:

“Heard- Angel, any demon who knows anything about earth knows those three. Pure chaos that lot are. Entire family, in fact.”

“Yes, well, quite… Actually they all seem very kind, but that’s hardly the point. The point, my dear, is that I found the perfect holiday celebration for me.” He smiled, wide and as bright as a sun. It usually came with the same

“Please don’t say what I think you’re gonna say. Please, angel.”

Aziraphale’s lips set into a thin line at that and her regarded the demon slowly. “I don’t see what in heaven’s name should be wrong with it.” He declared finally. “I do so love every one of the traditions they’ve come up with through the years and Candlenights” he ignored the full-body eye roll and groan that wound itself out of Crowley “Candlenights is the perfect way to celebrate. It’s a pan-religious, pansexual, personal pan holiday. What could be more appropriate for me?” He pointed out almost patiently.

“I’ve stepped into the fucking Twilight Zone.” Crowley declared, leaning in to stare the doll head on unblinking and getting the very strong sensation that it stared back.

“Oh Crowley, must you use language like that? I… I rather enjoy the idea of a holiday built around just accepting everyone else and letting it start and stop whenever one’s most comfortable with it.”

The softness in his voice, the slight tremor of vulnerability, finally pulled Crowley back from his inspection. “Yeah, suppose you did always like your own speed.” He smiled faintly. There was less sting there these days but it hid in the darker shadows behind Crowley’s eyes regardless.

“And the giving to charity.”

“And the pansexual bit?”

“Just another way of saying that gender doesn’t matter in love. Of course I can support that.”

“And the doll, angel?”

Aziraphale almost feels foolish for not having spotted Crowley circling back to his initial point. Always circling, always in orbit with the impossible gravity of him.

“The doll is part of their traditional Candlenights celebrations. Some of the students come in regularly and they very helpfully let me see some of the shows. It seems that at Candlenights there’s always a watch set for haunted dolls. Then you take one into your home, and Nora was just precious.”

Crowley’s head swayed a little for a moment; having almost entirely lost function in his corporation at the earnest words. “You know… They just… It’s a bit you don’t actually get a doll and they’re not actually haunted.”

Aziraphale frowned and gestured to Nora. “Well she most certainly is. Been causing all sorts of mischief.” He pointed out reasonably.

Of course, the problem with this was that Aziraphale had bought the doll fully expecting it to be haunted. He actually had little concept of how a soul could become trapped on earth, odd as the idea was, but that wasn’t entirely his department and he thought that it could happen. So, expecting a haunted doll to arrive, that’s exactly what happened.

“Satan’s sake angel.” Crowley cursed, eyeing the doll suspiciously and wondering if he could just kind of throw it at Shadwell and tell the Witchfinder to deal with it. “Maybe she is, but what I mean is that Candlenights doesn’t actually need you to have a doll that’s really haunted. They only joke about buying the blessed things.”

There was a moment that Aziraphale squinted at Crowley as though trying to read his intentions but admittedly the demon had never been one for lying to him. “Oh dear. Now that’s a bit of an error on my part.” He smiled a little sheepishly. “You see, the thing is it is the middle of winter and I’m afraid the young lady who helped me buy it won’t be able to do anything while she’s back home for the holidays. It seems that Nora will just have to stay with me this year. Can’t leave her out in the cold, as it were.”

“Angel, are you-” Crowley paused. Pulled back a little. He could point out that none of this was right. Could get it exorcised or something like that. Or he could let Aziraphale send an actual haunted doll out into the world after midwinter and track the chaos that it caused. “Never mind. Happy Candlenights I guess.” He snorted.

The smile he got in return was the usual terribly tender one he seemed to get at this time of year. “Yes indeed. Let’s open a bottle and celebrate properly. I believe Nora’s overdue to play with her cards anyway.” He agreed before slipping into the back.

Once Aziraphale was out of earshot Crowley leaned back just far enough to catch the doll’s blank void-like eyes. “I swear to Satan, you behave for him or I’ll drop you into a holy water bath myself.” He hissed, frowning further when he swore he heard a giggle in response. “No bloody respect these days.” He muttered; going to follow after the angel to see about that wine. Winter was going to be a long one.

[tried-not-to-makeagoodomensblog]

All the Feels

Here’s how I see it. (long post) There are lots of legitimate ideas of when and where the ineffable husbands fall in love. But the way I imagine it is that love isn’t normal for them. Do angels and demns form couples in Heaven and Hell? It’s clear they don’t get real warmth from anyone in their home offices. They no doubt did have warm relationships with humans at times, but they weren’t their peers and anyway they weren’t immortal and they died so after a while they probably discouraged it. So on day one when they laugh together about something neither of them could have laughed or joked about at the office, so to speak, they start to make a connection. Crowley’s comment about Aziraphale being an angel so he doesn’t think he can do the wrong thing is clearly sarcasm. (Crowley was an angel once and *he* did a wrong thing.) But Aziraphale takes it as a kindness and Crowley lets him, maybe because he likes his smile. Then Aziraphale shields Crowley from the rain when he starts to sidle towards him. So each has the perception at least that the other was kind to them. Neither gets that at home. Then they see each other in Mesopotamia and at Golgotha. Both times, even though Crowley is the one who is outspoken about it, he can see that Aziraphale is uncomfortable with the things going on that are sanctioned by his side. He likes him for that, and I think Aziraphale likes it that Crowley is saying some of the things he’s thinking but would never say.

Then comes Rome. A lot has come and gone over the years. At this point for both of them they are the only constant on earth. Despite what Aziraphale says later, it’s clear they have more in common with each other than they have with anyone else. Is Crowley fishing for an invite when he says he’s never eaten an oyster? I think so. Aziraphale certainly falls for it. That’s probably the first time they eat together and have some drinks. Lots of in-jokes between them. What a relief to have someone who understands! When they meet again in armor, Crowley says right away to his crew, “He’s all right. I know him.” No mistrust on his side, but Aziraphale isn’t sure his suggestion to stay home and just send memos isn’t an attempt at  temptation. By the Globe, they’ve met a lot. The Arrangement is in full swing. Lots of room for fanfic in there and it’s being filled. But by now, Crowley clearly enjoys and is amused by Aziraphale, much more than at any point before. Aziraphale is still suspicious, but is for the first time sweetly concerned about Crowley’s well being if they’re found out. He also seems to frown a bit when Burbage appears to be hitting on Crowley. France, the first rescue. They’re familiar enough that Crowley is now free to affectionately but not without exasperation criticize Aziraphale’s foolish choices. The second invitation to a meal, at least that we get to see, once again from Aziraphale. Up next is the Holy Water incident, I believe. By this time, they’re both getting weirded out by their feelngs. I don’t think angels or devils fall in love, so they don’t expect that in themselves let alone the other. Their feelings confuse them. About all you can be sure of is that each has begun to see the other vaguely as a significant other. Love or no, a closeness has developed. Those emotions are a little uncomfortable and they irritate them, so they fight.

Then the church Nazis. We all know that one. Saving Aziraphale could be construed as Crowley not wanting to risk having to deal with an angel who walks the party line if Aziraphale is reprimanded and replaced, but the books show something more. He knows what Aziraphale values and cares enough to save them for him. Notice that he has absolutely *no* doubt that Aziraphale will save him when the bomb drops. He put his life in his hands without hesitation. Also, the back and forth about Crowley’s name and initial shows them speaking as if they’re the only two people in the room, even though someone is pointing a gun at them. When they’re together, they’re the only people who matter to each other now. On to the touching scene in the Bentley. This is the most tender scene of all. By giving him the thermos Aziraphale shows that Crowley has come to mean more than he can say. Crowley seems sad, maybe a little lonely. When did anyone show this much caring for him? He wants more time with him. The feels are ratcheted up. The Anti-Christ arrives. Crowley probably thought they had another 6000 years to enjoy human pleasures and slowly spend more time together. Is it love? I don’t know that he would call it that, but I think we would. Some kind of love. He wants Aziraphale to help him stop the Apocalypse, partly for the Bentley’s sake, partly for their sake. No matter who wins, the Apocalyptic war will end with Crowley spending eternity in Hell where no one cares about him or drinks with him or laughs with him at all. Thinking about it makes him keenly aware that only one person understands him and cares for his well being. And that he only cares for that one person. I don’t think Aziraphale is thinking like that. He’s fond of Crowley but duty comes first, more or less. He can’t stand to see himself as he is, pretty compromised morally, so he still clings to this vision of being an angel on the side of good.

But it’s the incident at the monastery that really sets something off. When Crowley slams him up against the wall, they both feel something. You can see it in how they act afterward, Aziraphale pointedly fixing and settling his clothes almost accusatively. He’s clearly doing the same with his feelings, unexpected intense feelings that came surging up. Crowley is if anything even more flustered by the same kind of feelings. He tries to fight it off by being sarcastic at Aziraphale. Their bickering over how to handle Sister Mary is to cover up the feelings that surprised and overtook them. I’ll skip to the bandstand. The bandstand is everything. They’re talking about the AntiChrist. Aziraphale is a bad liar. He’s feeling more guilt about lying to Crowley about not knowing where the Anti-Christ is than he has ever felt about lying to Heaven. But Crowley seems to suspect nothing. Then he walks up to Aziraphale, almost too close, like he’s experimenting too see whether getting close arouses any feelings again. He’s doing all right, maybe enjoying it a little, but then Aziraphale puts his fingers up as he speaks and they touch. Boom! It happens again. Just that little touch. Crowley gets agitated, loud, and sarcastic and maybe just a little bit closer. “Kill him yourself, hol-i-ly.” Are they arguing at this point or are they making out? “I’m not killing anybody,” Aziraphale is staring Crowley in the eyes at the start of that sentence, but looking into each other’s eyes is so intense he has to look away by the end. It seems very intimate. Aziraphale throwing around his holiness, emphasizing their differences just as their feelings are coming up is probably self defense and is frustrating to Crowley. He thought they were past that. Passions are running high, mostly frustration fueled by that intensity they’re not naming. Crowley has to walk away. For a moment Aziraphale desperately calls him back. Then Crowley says what’s never been said before. “We can go off together” “We’re on our own side” Shock. Aziraphale has had thoughts like this, but felt guilty about fantasizing about it. He can’t believe he’s hearing them. He panics. When Aziraphale says, “We are an angel and a demon. We have nothing whatsoever in common. I don’t even like you!”, he can’t even look Crowley in the eyes. He’s just taking the party line and making himself desperately unhappy while doing it. For someone who could feel love all around him in Tadfield, he must have to go to great lengths to ignore his own love for Crowley now. He’s forcing it down. And when his only friend in the world does just what God did so many years ago, abandoning him for piousness, rejecting him for ideas and not for who he is, Crowley doesn’t even argue. He wasn’t expecting it from his friend but he recognizes it. He’s been here before. This is what the good guys do in the end, isn’t it? This is what the ones who *say* they stand for love always do. He walks away, knowing that a lonely eternity in hell with no friends is what awaits him without Aziraphale’s help. He walks away already falling back into that pit of burning sulphur. It will be until all the angels and even God prove not to be on his side before Aziraphale will come around and realize that Crowley was his only friend, too, and that his heart and not what he’s been taught is his highest obligation. But when they leave the bandstand only Agnes Nutter could have foreseen that ever happening.