#Aziraphale's thumbs up

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Michael, your Aziraphale is showing! :D ❤

(Michael Sheen as Aziraphale in Good Omens S2 2023 and on the game show The Wheel 2024 :))

[demonir]

Playing around with a style reminiscent of my first digital art years and years ago… it was pretty fun

[lemon-cheese-cake]

Okay I'm not used to making text posts, but bare with me, there's a thought to be said.

So Nina and Maggie, they are their own people, right? Not there to be played around with by Crowley or anyone. But. They are there to serve as somewhat of a reflection of Crowley's and Aziraphale's relationship, only a more communicative one I'd say.

And that bit in ep6 where Nina said 'When I'm ready, I hope she'll (Maggie) be there, but there isn't any guarantee.'

Maggie interrupts her to say 'there is'.

That's the bit I'm getting at.

Except the fact that Crowley and Azi suck at communicating, their problem is that they're not ready. Aziraphale isn't.

And Crowley has been (ready) for centuries, always making little steps and suggestions towards Azi - I can give you a lift, anywhere you wanna go - or - we can run off together - and even though Aziraphale has rejected him countless times, Crowley never stops. He's there, patiently waiting because he knows that Azi is torn between his moral duties towards Heaven and his love for Crowley.

But now it's time that Aziraphale works on himself, I mean he has some realisations and acceptance to go through.

And when he's ready and wants to come back to Crowley, we know Crowley will accept and take him back because he understands him and the love he has for him is greater than any grudge he could ever hold.

[vidavalor]

Nina offering Aziraphale eccles cakes to calm him down instead of the WAY more obvious option of *a cup of tea* is hilarious given the history of eccles cakes...

Nina: What'll you have?

Crowley: Six shots of symbolic liberty in a big cup.

Nina: Ok. And you, Mr. Fell?

Aziraphale: What do you have that calms people down?

Nina: I sell like, I don't know, seventeen different varieties of tea here in my shop that is based in London, including several decaf and herbal varieties, and it's not just implied but is canon later on in the scene where Maggie orders some but instead of saying the most obvious thing possible to you here, which would be that I'd be happy to fetch who I believe to be an older, English gentleman a nice cup of decaf tea, I say...

Nina, cont.: And why do I say this? Well, we're in a show obsessed with food symbolism so naturally my Soho-set shop-- named after the famous rallying cry of an anti-monarchist American revolutionary as he fought to break away from the English empire whilst still being, at that moment, stuck under its thumb-- recommends, for calming purposes, the delicious little round mini-turnover bits of pastry butter and topped with sugar and filled with currants or lemon things... eccles cakes... which were banned in England in 1650 when Oliver Cromwell took over and got all puritanical and claimed they were pagan. You're stressed, Aziraphale, so instead of offering you THE MOST LOGICAL POSSIBLE THING IN THIS SHOP to calm you down-- that is, a cup of tea lol-- I will, instead, offer you the sweet treats that the crazy Nazis of history think are so good they're sweets of the devil.

Aziraphale:

Bonus hilarity related to this:

The Angel got himself locked up for eating Satan's baked goods in 1650 and made Crowley come rescue him, didn't he?

[ineffableteeth]

The fact we haven’t seen either of them touch eachothers bare skin except for their hands (For a short period of time) is a crime

GIVE ME AZIRAPHALE SHUTTING CROWLEY UP BY THE TINIEST TOUCH

OR GIVE ME CROWLEY SUBCONSCIOUSLY CARESSING AZIRAPHALES HAND WITH HIS THUMB WHEN HE NOTICES AZIRAPHALE IS GETTING NERVOUS OR WORKED UP

IM BEGGING

[mazout-fm]

*snorts in my tea*

[amuseoffyre]

I’ve seen a lot of posts about Az being controlled by the Metatron but I don’t buy it. 

I'm fully on board with Aziraphale making stupid decisions for what he believes is the greater good. We've had evidence time and again of him wanting to get Crowley back on the side of angels so he'll be safe. "they'll destroy you"/"they'll kill you" was his biggest fear all through S1 and that fear hasn't gone away, especially now the neutrality protection has gone from the bookshop and Heaven and Hell can both get in.

You'll notice he said "I don't want to go back to heaven" until the moment the Metatron tells him that it means he could guarantee Crowley's sanctuary and safety. And this is not ten minutes after the rest of heaven's archangels were planning on wiping Aziraphale completely from the book of life and leaving Crowley alone? The Metatron didn't have to threaten Crowley. The threat has always always been there. Aziraphale didn't choose death because he's predictable.

Trouble is that the Metatron knew Crowley wouldn't want it (he's always been an independent one, going his own way, asking questions) and is using this as something to drive a wedge between them. Because the Metatron fully admitted that "we've kept track of your history" and as Gabe said re. Armageddon "at least we know who's fault it was" that it stopped.

Together, Crowley and Aziraphale have stymied Heaven more than once. Together, they produced a miracle that exceeded the power of the Supreme Archangel and could raise the dead 25-fold. Together, their interference/cock-ups led to the failure of Armageddon and Heaven doesn’t want to risk that when they’re working up to the big one, The Second Coming.

They know Aziraphale and Crowley together would be a liability. They needed them separated by whatever means and they have it. They knew Aziraphale would want to do good - everyone knows Aziraphale is a good guy. Even Gabriel, when his memory was gone, went straight to Aziraphale because he instinctively knew this is someone who would protect him. And everyone knows that Crowley is the rogue angel. The Metatron clearly knew him and described him as someone “who always wants to go his own way”.

The Metatron played on both their fears. He also played on Aziraphale’s belief that Heaven can still be good: he came in just in time to save him from erasure from the book of life, he implied that he’s much more like Aziraphale by bringing him nice sweet things and encouraging him to imbibe them, he offered safety and protection for Crowley to keep him out of harms way. But simultaneously, he slammed Crowley’s big red horror button at the idea of being under Heaven’s thumb again. He knew exactly what he was doing.

TLDR: Aziraphale did what he always did. He's a guardian. He's doing what he feels he needs to in order to keep people safe. And Crowley did what he always did by rejecting Heaven. The Metatron used that and pressed his and Crowley's buttons to make sure he split up the dream team to make sure the next Armageddon isn't interrupted by their interference.

[doodleswithangie]

“It’s incredible, my dear,” Aziraphale said, dusting away snow from the top of the wall and sitting beside Crowley. “Like something out of a dream.” Crowley hopped down from his perch so that he was sitting too, his legs draped over the other side of the wall so that they were like mirrors to one another. “The real thing is better,” he said. They were so close that Aziraphale could feel his warmth. He was breathtaking in the moonlight, his scarlet hair like embers, his sharp features made softer and more subtle by the shadows. “Maybe,” Aziraphale conceded, “but I didn’t use to dream very much. This is the sort of thing I wish I had spent my life dreaming about.” He offered Crowley the bottle of wine, and the moonlight glinted off the dark glass. The way the moonlight reflected off the snow made the bottle act like a warped mirror. In the dark glass, only Crowley's fair skin stood out. Even his scarlet hair seemed like waves of night in the reflection, still beautiful, but haunting and inhuman. More honest, perhaps, to his true nature. “When I was a boy, all my dreams were of when I was being hunted.” Crowley tipped the bottle up and took a drink to mask a guilty frown, and Azirphale rested his hand on Crowley’s thigh. Crowley, scorching hot in the winter night, froze at the touch. “This is far better,” he said, stroking his thumb in gentle lines. “A moonlit night, a garden, and you by my side. If I can’t have the real thing, then let me have the dream.”

Excerpt from Chapter 12 of “The Groundskeeper” by @fishey-me for @fairytalegobang. Read it here!

[Image description: Illustration for a “Good Omens” fanfic. Alt text is provided and copied below the cut. End ID]

Copied Alt Text

Aziraphale and Crowley are sat on a churchyard wall and wrapped in heavy cloaks and embroidered doublets. They face opposite sides but are turned towards each other, Aziraphale's hand gently resting on Crowley's thigh. Magically crafted flowers bloom at Aziraphale's feet. Against the night sky, the falling snow blends with the stars.

End Copied Alt Text

[dalliancekay]

AFTER

After Crowley slowly drives off, looking heartbroken and lost deep in thought.

After Aziraphale walks into the lift, contemplative and sombre.

I don't think Crowley goes off on a binge drinking session or a hundred. I don't think he goes looking for someone new. I don't think he sleeps until whatever happens next, happens.

I don't think Metatron will succeed in keeping Aziraphale under his thumb as he envisioned. Unless he does something drastic and awful to him (locks him away, erases his memory that kind of thing), Aziraphale will find a way around rules. As he's always done.

And Crowley back on Earth is thinking about what he's learned in Heaven, that he had no time to tell his beloved. He will think about the way Gabriel, who he still hates with his whole being, said no to another Armageddon and was going to be punished for it. He will think about how Aziraphale was willing to try everything to save the world the first time, up to killing a child in the end. And the danger he's in now. Because he will try the same thing again for sure.

Aziraphale wasn't in Heaven for 6000 years, but it didn't change much in the meantime. He still can't stand it, but he also knows it holds prisoners; millions of lonely, overworked angels who never had the chance to learn how to question anything.

Crowley will do things. He's good at doing things after the first shock of a crisis. Just jumping in and trying something. He might go speak to the only other nice angel he knows. He might have questions. He hasn't been in Heaven in a long time. Where is God he asks. When was the last time anyone seen Her. Did anyone get any messages directly from Her since Jesus died on Earth? Aziraphale will find ways to speak to angels no one spoke to for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. He will be kind, gentle and curious and he will answer questions about Earth with a farewell look in his eyes and the angels will beg him to show it to them sometime and the Supreme Archangel will promise to try. Crowley will think back to the tentative talks they had in the last few years about what is most likely to happen. To them. To the Earth. To Heaven. To Hell. When.

Aziraphale will touch his lips and miss his home intensely, vowing to himself to find a way to save it. Again and again. To save his beloved, even if he'd never take him back (but he has hope) to save what matters. And what matters is to be free. To have a choice.

Crowley will think about Aziraphale, hugging the soft grey cardigan to himself, hoping his angel will find a way to break from Heaven. To snap the chains that hold them in the unforgiving system they exist in. And he knows Aziraphale will. Because he has faith. He is mad, but not at his angel. His angel is the only one he can trust. He will wait.

Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate and Crowley, The Serpent of Eden, who lead humanity to question rules and choose the option to know; understand that nothing is perfect. It never was and never can be. And they want to keep it that way.

After pt. 2

[the-literal-kj]

SHOW THE WAY

Chapters 1-3

Written for the 2024 Good Omens Theatre Reverse Bang, with concept & stunning art by the incomparable @illustrious-slimeman!

~

Good Omens fanfiction. 5k/25k words. Currently Rated M. Read it on A03.

SUMMARY: There was a point in Crowley’s life when he wouldn’t have been caught dead aboard the Metro-North Railroad commuter train bound for the hell that was Connecticut. And yet, here he was. Far enough from New York City so his reputation doesn't precede him and at his latest gig as a lighting tech, he meets stuffy, rules-following, interim-director Aziraphale.

But is there room enough in Greenwich for two drama queens?

CW: Pranks, practical jokes, quite extraordinary amounts of cussing! More tags to come.

Thank you to my betas @hakunahistata, @gaiaseyes451, @angie-words, @ines2925, & @secretlywingedphantom and to the @goodomensafterdark and @whickberstreetwriters communities for all their support!!

Excerpt:

“Bring up the house lights, if you would?” The radio crackled as he removed his thumb from the button, ending the transmission out to the Crew channel. A message that Crowley, way up as he was, still should have received. An order– no, a request from the Director. Perhaps the light jockey hadn’t heard him. Shielding his eyes with a hand, Aziraphale repeated himself. “Lights down, please? House lights up?”  A spotlight punched him directly in the smallest ribs, landing like an airhorn hits an eardrum. Aziraphale could see the barest glint of light off of Crowley’s ridiculous sunglasses shifting up in the booth. He knew he was listening, knew he had heard.  And yet the spotlight was getting brighter.

Read the rest on A03!

💚 kj

[aziraphales-library]

hey mods!!! I loveeee your taste in fics, you awesome ppl always have amazing ones on hand!! I was wondering if you knew any fics where Aziraphale and Crowley are just absolutely silly and ridiculous lol, it’s soo cute!! Thx for all the fics, and have a nice dayyy

Hi! You might like to check out our #humour, #humor, and #crack tags for silly fics. Here are some more silly ones for you...

You're Telling Me a Shrimp Fried This Rice? by absolutely_obsessed (G)

"A 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘱?" "Oh, yes." "The little..." Crowley lifted his hand up and held his pointed finger and thumb about three inches apart, "little buggers in the ocean?" "The very same," Aziraphale confirmed. "𝘊𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 that?" "Quite right, my dear." "𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺?" Crowley asked, 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 baffled. "Really."

Fighting A Duck For My Pants And Winning by ineffablefool (T)

"Missed connection. You were the angel sitting on this park bench, I was the demon fighting a duck for my pants and losing. If you saw me, please call me. (PS. I got them back - let’s hang out!)" (Based on a Tumblr prompt. Human!Crowley is a disaster, but fortunately the very pretty angel he disaster'd in front of appears to think that's endearing.)

Dear Raphael by asideofourown (T)

The thing was, even after Crowley Fell, Heaven forgot to delete his login to their system. The only half interesting thing he had ever found in Heaven’s archives was their newspaper, even though it was a dreadfully dull rag. But even then, Crowley was never inspired to truly interfere with the Celestial Observer’s contents until the late 1600s, when advice columns were invented on Earth. As always, brilliant inspiration struck him like… like whatever inspiration strikes like. So Crowley resolved to meddle, just as a side project. Maybe if he got enough angels heated at each other, he could report it as a victory to Hell. Anyway, Dagon had always liked gossip, and the Celestial Observer’s new advice column was a ready source of that. It was pure genius. [Crowley, demon of Hell, becomes Heaven's foremost advice columnist]

"And I Would Never Say 'Pickle'!" by SanSanFanFan (G)

What if they hadn't been able to switch back again?

You Know the Answer (So Scream It Out Loud) by his_infinitevariety (G)

“Between us we have 12,000 years’ first-hand knowledge of all of human history. I think we can manage a few silly quiz shows.” This is apparently what happens when Crowley convinces Aziraphale to watch a bunch of British quiz shows with him.

Haunt Your Own House, Thank You by musegnome (E)

The line had at last dwindled to almost nothing when Aziraphale looked up with his best plastic customer-service smile and saw sunglasses. “Hi,” said Crowley with a grin. “Someone told me I needed to order something if I didn’t want to get tossed out on my ass.” “An excellent suggestion on Someone’s part.” Aziraphale’s exhaustion melted suddenly away. “What can I get you?” The grin turned wicked. “I want a footlong.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Don’t we all.”   (Or: The story of how Crowley, and Ouija boards, got banned from Subway. Inspired by the famous Ouija Boards and Seances are Not Allowed at the Subway photo.)

- Mod D

[averageanonymous]

Summary: Something happened in 1941 in Aziraphale's bookshop. Something they blame on alcohol and adrenaline. Something they make an unspoken agreement to never talk about again.

Note: This isn't smut 😅 Just a little baby spice.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

It's dark, and it's late, and they're both a little drunk and shot through with adrenaline.

Well, what can you expect after an evening that started with blowing Nazis to Hell, swung round to performing a lethal magic trick in a crowded theater without a single miraculous intervention, and culminated in the closest call they've yet had with their... whatever this thing between them is.

So, yeah, you could say they've had a night. So if he makes a mistake, well, it's not like that's such a surprise, is it?

At least, that's what Crowley tells himself...

When he wanders after Aziraphale (who said something about tracking down a book with some really fascinating passages regarding blah blah blah... Crowley had, admittedly, lost track of what the angel was saying, too distracted by the way the candlelight caught in his hair and the way his lips smiled around the words he spoke) into the dark shelves at the back of the store...

When he realizes, standing behind Aziraphale as he searches a shelf, that his heart is inexplicably racing in his chest...

When Aziraphale turns around abruptly with an exclamation of triumph and a book in hand, and Crowley doesn't step back, doesn't move away, even though that puts them barely a foot apart...

When he takes the book, his fingers brushing against the angel's, sending a shock up his arm, and places it back down on the shelf...

When he leans in, so close now to his angel that their breath is caught between them, the heat rising from Aziraphale’s skin warming his own. The only thing between their lips is a question.

Crowley waits.

He holds his breath.

And for a moment, just a moment, reality beckons to him.

Then Aziraphale’s lips touch his own, and anything remotely resembling reality or consequences or a single moment beyond this one, single, solitary moment, is lost to him.

He takes Aziraphale’s face in his hands, runs his fingers up into his hair, soft against his skin. Crowley presses into Aziraphale until the angel's back is against the shelf. Then presses closer until there's no space between them at all. Aziraphale tastes like wine and starlight, and Crowley thinks that if ecstasy tastes like anything, it tastes like Aziraphale’s kiss.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale gasps between one breath and the next. His voice is rough. Crowley wishes he would say his name again, again and again, the sound of it like music, like a prayer. Crowley presses his forehead to Aziraphale’s, breathing hard.

Aziraphale puts a hand on his chest.

Then... then something changes.

"Crowley, we can't... I can't..." Aziraphale’s voice is soft, but urgent, desperate. Crowley looks up at the sudden change. Their gazes lock, blue on gold. Aziraphale’s eyes, reflecting candlelight and shadow, run through a dozen emotions, each on display for only a heartbeat.

"I- I need..." he starts, stops. Then, one emotion rises to the top. Aziraphale glances towards the shuttered windows and then back to Crowley. All at once, he looks afraid.

"Angel-" Crowley tries, running a thumb soothingly over his cheek, thinking to reassure him, but Aziraphale shakes his head once, firmly.

"They almost caught you tonight," Aziraphale’s voice is tight, "Because you were helping me with a magic act, of all the frivolous things." He closes his eyes, his brow knitting like he's in pain. "If they found out-" His voice cuts off abruptly as though he physically can't follow the thought through. He presses his hand more firmly against Crowley's chest. Pushes him away.

"I need you to go," Aziraphale says.

Crowley hesitates, then steps back. "Sure," he finally agrees, though his heart feels like it's just been torn straight from his chest, "Right then... I'll just show myself out."

Aziraphale nods. The space between them, nonexistent moments ago, now yawns like a chasm.

So Crowley turns. Heads back to the more well-lit front of the shop. He grabs his coat and glasses. And he tells himself that it was just the alcohol. Just the adrenaline. Just a mistake.

He leaves the shop.

He walks away.

He tries to forget.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

Thanks for reading! I'm keeping my fingers crossed for 1941 Part III in S3 🤞

[actual-changeling]

hey.

do you ever think about the fact that they had four years together? four years during which the bookshop became their bookshop? crowley's glasses found a place to stay and so did he, comfortably vulnerable and content, safe and protected by their home, by his angel.

do you ever think about crowley sleeping on a sofa in the back while aziraphale watches over him? do you think he covers him with the warmest blanket he can find and closes his shop to make sure he won't be disturbed? do you think he sat in an armchair beside him, reading book after book and occasionally glancing up to look at him?

do you think whenever he saw him sleeping—peaceful and safe and his—he smiled, soft and smitten and so, so in love?

do you think he learned to read the signs of nightmares approaching? a twitch here, a low noise there, pain carving a path down his face, and he responded every single time, kneeling on the floor and gently pressing a palm to his cheek. do you think he brushed his thumb over his cheekbone and whispered you're with me, it's just a dream, waiting until he calmed before returning to his chair?

crowley woke from paralysing nightmares sometimes, and without the signs, aziraphale did not know, couldn't stop it in time, but he was there when he shot upright fast enough to make himself dizzy. he would drop his book and cross the distance separating them, allowing crowley to grab his hands and look at him with tears in his eyes.

just a dream, aziraphale would say, we're okay.

breath after shuddering breath, eyes darting around the room, hands shaking around his own.

you're here, crowley would respond, and finally, finally he could relax.

i'm here.

they do not talk about it, but afterwards aziraphale would settle down next to him and read out-loud until crowley fell asleep again, until the sun rose or set, until crowley woke with a tiny smile on his lips and his nightmares gone.

do you think after four years of having a home crowley snaps awake in the middle of the night with a scream in his throat and tears streaming down his face, frantically looking and reaching for a person that is no longer there?

"where are you?" he asks, quiet and pleading even though he knows. damn it all, he knows.

crowley still dreams of fire and ash, but there is aziraphale's voice now, smooth and steady and gone. nothing lasts forever—only his nightmares will, even once he returns, and he has to return. he has to.

he has to come back because crowley cannot spend an eternity praying, over and over and over:

"where are you?"

"i'm right here," crowley whispers to himself, closing his eyes and lying to himself, his voice shifting to sound like his. the room is empty, cold, abandoned. his chest is hollow, aziraphale's presence gone, intangible, imperceptible. gonegonegone.

i'm right here.

[buryustogether]

kinktober day 2: dirty talk - crowley

It hasn't been ten minutes since Aziraphale left you and Crowley to go attend a customer at the front of the bookstore, and your demon's already got his hand down the front of your pants.

"Yeah... there's a pet," Crowley says in that low, sultry tone of his when he knew just how to coax out what he wanted. He watches with those slitted, golden eyes as your head lolls back onto the couch and your hips buck slightly to chase his lean, nimble hand. "You like this, don't you, darling? Fucking up into my palm like you're in heat."

You bring a hand to your mouth to keep in the throaty moan that's pulled from the pit of your belly when his fingers rub against that certain spot that makes you see stars. But then he pulls away, bringing his lips close to the shell of your ear as his thumb hovers above the skin of your inner thigh.

He tisks, murmuring low in a voice that sends you trembling all over again, "None of that, love. Put it at your side - good. So good for me. I want to hear you, you know that? I want everyone in this damn bookstore to hear you. I want this entire street to hear how good I make you feel."

Finally his fingers return to their earlier rhythm from before and you keen, hips canting up into his hand. He grins, and his teeth are just a bit too sharp to be human, but in this moment you really don't give a damn. Anyone could walk in at the moment and see a literal demon fucking you with his hand, all yellow eyes and sharpened teeth and tipped ears, and you would simply tip your head back to give them a better show.

"Perfect darling," Crowley mutters as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. "So good and obedient for me. Always so receptive. Yeah, just like that. After this, I'll give you my tongue and you'll see stars. How does that sound?"

You think that sounds sinfully wonderful.

[vidavalor]

Yes, Crowley's expression here is hilarious and always worth a post in its own right 😊 but I thought I'd share something about what he's doing with his hand for anyone who is unfamiliar with that particular gesture, as it has a name and a purpose that goes along with a few other scenes in the series. It's also a good strategy in real life for anyone experiencing anxiety and might want another tool in their toolbox for it.

TWs: anxiety; trauma; PTSD; brief, indirect mention of SA.

For a lot of people who get something on their hands and are exploring the texture of it, the inclination would be to rub together the thumb and the index finger. Crowley's unique use of his fingers isn't just a sorcery thing, though, as what he is doing in this scene-- touching his thumb to his middle finger-- has a name amongst us humans.

It's called shuni mudra.

If you meditate or practice yoga, you have likely heard of mudras, which are different ways of positioning the hands to use the fingers to create a seal that directs prana-- aka energy flow-- in different ways throughout the body. Shuni mudra is done to generate a sense of calm and patience-- especially patience with the self. It is a hand gesture done as a way to help regulate the heart, circulatory & nervous systems and is most commonly used to counter anxiety. Like with any mudra, you don't have to do it in the midst of a yoga or a meditation session but can make the gesture just whenever you feel the need, as Crowley did in the scene above. If you give it a try, you'll probably find that it is surprisingly relaxing for such a simple gesture.

Crowley's outsized startle response to getting hit with the paint is very funny but it is also pretty typical of someone with PTSD-- especially someone who has it as a result of bodily autonomy violations, as is the case with Crowley. People who have experienced non-consensual loss of control over themselves tend to have a jumpy response to sudden, unexpected stimuli in their environment.

Even though Crowley flailing dramatically is hilarious to watch because he's so over-the-top with it, beneath the humor in the scene is also that being unexpectedly hit with something out of nowhere is a very common thing that can trigger anxiety in people with PTSD. Good Omens is very good at finding some humor in dealing with darkness and a comparable scene in tone to this is Gabriel bouncing off the walls when the angels show up at the bookshop in S2. What is very amusing "books are keen!", fly-chasing zaniness is really, underneath, unconscious anxiety manifesting, as part of Gabriel's mind knows that the angels are a threat to him and is reacting with panic at them in his bookshop safe space.

Ironically, reacting with panic to an angel perceived as a threat being in the bookshop safe space is also Crowley's S2 plot, as if he and Gabriel didn't already have more in common than Crowley is ready to admit...

But, back to the hand gesture thing...

There is evidence that things like shuni mudra are effective simply because they help to create a pause that interrupts anxious and self-critical thoughts, which then allows space for calming the mind and body. Used in the way that Crowley is using it here, it's very similar to the Five Things/5-4-3-2-1 strategy for staving off or stopping an anxiety attack, in that both pull people back into the present moment by creating a sense of concentration on something besides the feeling of panic.

That Crowley does this pretty intuitively in the paintball scene as a response to having something anxiety-inducing happen to him indicates he likely does it pretty frequently. Crowley automatically going to shuni mudra while he takes a breath and figures out what, exactly, has happened, is indicative of someone with an awareness of their anxiety and PTSD and who has and uses strategies to help manage them, which goes along with things we've seen in other scenes as well.

Crowley and Aziraphale are inhaling places and food with a clear devotion to trying to live mindfully. You don't need to have experienced trauma to do that but mindful living is prescriptive for virtually every sort of mental health struggle that exists so Crowley and Aziraphale seeing it as therapeutic, as well as enjoyable, seems likely.

In the bookshop, they have a lotus flower rug. The lotus flower has long been a symbol of trauma recovery. You might have heard of the saying "no mud, no lotus", referring to how beauty and health can be made in the wake of horrible experiences. The lotus flower originates in the mud at the bottom of a body of water and travels through it to bloom above the surface, which is at the root of it being symbolic across different cultures for things like enlightenment, purity, strength, and recovery. Its resilience and ability to literally wade through struggle to come through into the light and bloom makes it a metaphor for getting through different forms of trauma.

That Crowley and Aziraphale have this rug in their World of Carpets that is the bookshop, when combined with these other scenes, show how they're dedicated to working through their stuff together and trying to be the best trauma-informed partners they can to one another.

It's also on the lotus rug that Crowley and Aziraphale put Gabriel to perform the miracle to protect him and, when they do, their magic is done with both of them using another hand gesture-- gyan mudra, the seal of knowledge-- to complete the miracle.

I think if you take all of this together, you could make the case for either or both of Crowley and Aziraphale using yoga and/or meditation to help manage the effects of trauma. For those who think that Crowley has chronic pain, there's also that both of these things have been helpful for managing that in many people, so that might be another reason for Crowley, in particular, to practice them.

The lotus rug in the shop might not just be symbolic but also a meditation/yoga spot. Do we think The Serpent always starts with Snake Pose, just because? 🤭

[ineffable-xenanigans]

What if A.Z. fell?

I was inspired by the pictures in the recent Michael Sheen article published by The Guardian, so I drew him for the second time in my life.

And then as I was writing this post I realized that a fallen Aziraphale kinda fits the theme of "closed door" i.e. week 4 of the Ineffable Prompt-A-Thon by @ineffablyruined, so that's pretty convenient!

My favorite detail on this page is the horizontal pupils. Oh, and 666 thumbs up to whoever came up with the idea of demon!Aziraphale's form being a ram. Absolutely iconic behavior 🐏✨

Reference images

From the article:

Plus this one for the horns:

Materials

Paper: Royal Talens (Art Creation sketchbook)

Pen: Pilot (G-Tec-C4)

Markers: Copic Sketch (T2, T4, T6, T8, C1, W2, B21, B95, BG71*, BG72, BG75, BG90, E30, E21, E23, E27, E04, E42)

* Please note: BG71 is not an actual Copic color, it's a custom blend I made from BG70 and BG72 ink)