#I think the main idea is that Aziraphale and Crowley are there during the creation of stars

[burbuur]

Title sequence Nebula !!!!

I IDENTIFIED the title sequence NEBULA

It's Elephant's Trunk Nebula found in in the constellation Cepheus, visually, quite near the North star (Polaris). It's an area of the birthplaces of stars and remnants of stellar explosions, supernovas <3

[trebol-negro]

What type of angel was Crowley before he fell?

This is going to be a longer post, but researching this during the past few days has been a fun mental exercise and I wanted to share my conclusions with you.

Before I begin, please remember that English is not my first language and that I just started researching this topic recently. Any corrections are appreciated, as well as other people participating in this post. Don't be afraid to share your ideas!

I'll be using this hierarchy, as it's implied to be the one used in the series

What we know

Aziraphale

Thanks to Furfur's book, we know that Aziraphale is a principality. Both his personality and appearence fit the description of principalities.

Principalities are the ones who protect the different groups of people. Their main trait is their knowledge.

They have a human body with one pair of wings

We also see that when he and Crowley interact during the creation of the stars and Crowley asks him for help, he doesn't question him at any point and won't stop holding the plane (?) with the stars until Crowley tells him to. This plus the fact that he introduces himself while Crowley doesn't makes me think that Crowley is above him in the hierarchy. So we can discard archangel and angel.

Muriel

When Muriel leads Crowley to the folder with Gabriel's information, they mention that only a throne or dominion or above is able to open it. Since Crowley could, we can assume he fits Muriel's conditions.

Archangels vs archangels

Neil commented on his blog that in Good Omens there is a difference between Archangels and archangels. See post here

This would put Archangels above seraphim, but just below the Metatron.

Crowley

We know, thanks to what he tells us during the creation of the stars, that while he wasn't the one who designed them, he "worked very closely with upstairs", meaning that he isn't on the top of the hierarchy. So, we can discard Metatron (obviously) and Archangel.

Possible choirs

Seraph

Seraphim comes from the word saraph, which in Hebrew means "burning". Saraph is also used to describe a "fiery flying serpent".

Appearence:

- Three sets of wings. The first to cover their faces, the second to fly and the third to cover their feet.

Function:

-To sing and hail God's glory.

Neither their appearance nor their function matches Crowley's.

Cherub

Appearence:

- Four faces of different animals. A lion (wild animals), an ox (domestic animals), a human (humanity) and an eagle (birds).

- Straight legs, with the soles of their feet like the hooves of a bull.

-Four wings.

Function:

- To guard God's Throne, His Chariot and the holy places that the Lord indicates. They also were the ones who watched over the Tree of Life.

Neither their function nor their appearance matches Crowley's.

Throne:

Appearence:

- Great wheels with many eyes.

Function:

- They observe the fulfilment of divine justice.

- They announce judgements or resolutions to humanity's problems

- They function as the chariots of God

- Characterized by peace and submission

Neither their function nor their appearance matches Crowley's.

Dominion:

Appearence:

- Human body

- One set of wings

- Often depicted wearing jewelry and white or green tunics.

Function:

- They coordinate and organize the angels belonging to the lower choirs.

- Associated with the step between the spiritual and material world.

- Also associated with healing and medicine

This is where Crowley most likely belongs based on his appearance and his job.

Now that we know where he belongs, let's see how that fits with his character.

Crowley is a dominion

The number of wings he has matches the number of wings a Dominion have

We see Crowley wearing a white tunic when he's an angel

Dominions are associated with healing. The snake is the animal that represents medicine.

Dominions dress with white and green. The opposite is black and red, Crowley's main colors.

While Crowley doesn't wear much jewelry, we can see him putting more care than Aziraphale into following fashion trends, changing outfits frequently instead of using the same one over the years.

Implications

It makes sense that he was asking for Aziraphale, an angel from a lower choir, to help him in the beginning of season 2. His job is to coordinate the lower angels.

He fell because he questioned God. While this was likely seen as a bad thing coming from other angels, given that dominions are the ones who supervise and lead the lower choirs, he could have offended God by implying that God belongs in a category below him.

[thewalrus-said]

It’s surprisingly difficult, watching Aziraphale struggle with his faith. Crowley, had someone asked him before the Apocalypse, would have said he’d expected it to be gratifying, if not amusing - the angel can work himself into a proper tizzy over which bowtie to wear, after all; what facial contortions might he go through while questioning God? But instead, it’s just sad, and not a bit frustrating. Crowley wants to shake him, to explain everything the way he sees it, but he knows the angel well enough by now to know that’s a one-way ticket to No Aziraphale Town, and he’s spent enough time there over the centuries. He intends to enjoy the angel while they have their respite. So instead he watches, and bites back a bit more of his teasing than he normally would, and waits. Aziraphale is praying more than he normally does; Crowley catches his eyes sliding shut during lulls in their conversations, mouth moving silently. Crowley doesn’t interrupt.

It takes months. Close to a year, of Aziraphale growing sad at random intervals, of wordless prayer, of frowning, concentrated expressions. But finally one day, after a satisfying dinner of Thai food consumed at Crowley’s magnificent dining room table, the angel turns to him and says, “Crowley, my dear, what do you think?”

There’s no need to ask what he means, and Crowley does him the courtesy of refraining. Instead, he fiddles with his napkin and says, “I think God’s lost the wheel, a bit.” Aziraphale raises his eyebrows, a silent bid for Crowley to go on. He does. “I don’t think it much matters what the Almighty wants anymore. She’s lost control of the car. Gabriel and his lot are going without direction from above, and I don’t think that’s on purpose. Plan or no Plan, I think what will happen will happen, and there’s not anything She can directly do about it anymore.”

Aziraphale thinks for a long moment, and then nods. “Do you know, I think I agree with you? About the lack of direction, I mean. I can’t believe everything Gabriel and Michael did during the Antichrist Incident was on order from above.” He pauses. “I’m not sure even the Metatron has Her ear anymore, if we’re being honest.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Crowley says.

Aziraphale sighs. “I have to believe - I have to, you understand - that the Almighty is still good. Regardless of Her level of influence on the world, I have to believe she still wants, well, good for Her creations.”

“Okay,” Crowley says. “So believe that.”

Aziraphale looks down at the table. “You must think me an utter fool.”

Crowley leans forward, reaching his hand out. It falls short of actually touching Aziraphale, but the intent is there. “I don’t. I think you have faith.”

Aziraphale looks up at him. “You don’t equate the two?”

Crowley considers this, then shakes his head. “I don’t, no. Faith’s not a bad thing for an angel to have.”

A smile breaks out across the angel’s face. “Thank you, my dear. You’ve no idea what it means to hear that from you.”

Crowley drives Aziraphale back to his shop a few hours later, dropping him off with a wave. Back in his flat, he pours himself a few fingers of whiskey and heads for the main room.

“I hope he’s right,” he abruptly announces to the empty room. “That You’re still good, I mean. And how sad is that, that the best option is that you’re well-meaning but ineffective? Any self-respecting Almighty ought to aim a bit higher than that.” He takes a sip of his whiskey, and then another. “Ineffable or ineffective, which are You?” Another sip. “Just on my own, I don’t care, it all washes out to the same color in the end, but for his sake, I hope You’re alright.” Crowley drains the rest of his whiskey, shaking his head at the burn. “Anyway. Don’t let him down.” He turns on his heel and leaves the room.

-----

ko-fi

[switch-crowley-central]

I mean it’s never laughed at in the show. So I don’t think Neil Gaiman did it for a laugh. From what I heard he kinda based her on Mary Poppins? Plus Nanny Ashtoreth existed since the book. Which establishes that angels and demons don’t even have a gender.

If you believe in angels and demons, yes, angels and demon are sexless at birth (creation?). If they are appearing as human, they will usually appear as men. I can only think of one instance of an angel appearing as a woman in Abrahamic faiths, and I think she took on the form of a child so technically a girl instead of a woman. Also, patriarchal religion thing being a reason we only see angels appearing as men but we can go deep into that on another kind of blog lol.

Neil Gaiman does not have a good track record. He claims he does to capitalize off of gay readings of Good Omens, he’ll brush off what he’s written/said with some weak tweet or tumblr post, but a GLAAD award doesn’t mean a cishet man is absolved of his homophobia and transphobia. GLAAD’s not even absolved of homophobia and transphobia, tbh. [See movies like Adam and Bohemian Rhapsody being nominated]

Originally, Nanny Ashtoreth is not Crowley. Nanny Ashtoreth is a different character entirely, based off of the goddess Astarte who becomes a succubus demon in Jewish mythology. Aziraphale isn’t Brother Francis either. Brother Francis is St. Francis of Assisi. Neil says the idea of Aziraphale and Crowley being the gardener and nanny happened when he and Terry sat down to write the outline of that awful, cursed, horrible, no-good film script that thankfully never happened. If you haven’t read the script for it, don’t. It’s really really bad.

Also, a reminder cause it’s not talked enough in this discussion. David Tennant is cis and a man. He’s a cis man. If Crowley is nonbinary and fluid, why was that role given to a cis man? Why were most of the demon and angel roles given to cis people? Why did angels make reference to gender when they slammed Aziraphale against a wall and made jokes about “his boyfriend?”

Anyways, back to Neil Gaiman. When it comes to Neil Gaiman and transphobia, the main point that comes to many a mind is Wanda Mann from Sandman. Yes, he gave her the last name Mann. This is an article on Sandman. This is a forum post written by a trans woman. His “apology” when confronted by trans people was to brush it off and claim “at least I included them during the 80s! Be grateful!”

Here’s an article all about show Good Omens’s homophobia and transphobia.

Here’s Neil Gaiman never correcting himself when he misgendered a cosplayer.

Here’s all of Neil Gaiman saying Aziraphale and Crowley cannot be gay or men because they are “assigned sexless at birth”.

And this is the tweet that people act as if it’s representation when it’s actually a cishet man saying trans, ace, and aro are inhuman.

[wormy-business]

When the Highest Fall

Chapter 4: A Tense Reunion 

Gabriel goes looking for help from familiar faces, but those faces don’t find him so familiar. 

Word count: 1,802

Read on AO3

Start from the beginning

Gabriel tensed as he stepped out onto the street. It was bright, must have been midday. Despite all the hellfire, the offices of hell were rather dark, and his colour shifting eyes had become rather used to it. As he raised his arm to shield his eyes he felt a sudden sharp pain rip up from the small of his back, reaching all the way to his fingertips. He winced, his face contorting. The pain started right where his wings used to be, the smallest pair that had broken during his free fall. As his face twisted, he felt a different kind of pain, this one more stiff and cracking as the wound on his face opened once more and he felt blood trickling down his cheek. 

His whole body began to ache as he took a few steps onto the sidewalk, leaving behind him a trail of dripping blood from not only his face, but his wrists where the chains had dug so deeply. Part of him felt a tugging, a desire to return to the relative safety of Beelzebub’s office, but he persisted forward. He remembered the way, didn’t he? His hands tightened into fists as he walked, his shoulders tense and his head aching. The further from Hell’s fire, it seemed, the more intense his pain would become.

Crowley was lazing around in the back office of Aziraphale’s bookshop. With the crisis of the armageddon averted, and Heaven and Hell off their backs, he felt he finally had a chance to relax. He wished Aziraphale would relax with him, but he was fine letting him run around the bookshop and entertain. His body was warmed by the light of the sun streaming into a window, his glasses sitting on his chest, one of his arms behind his head, and his legs splayed out in a way that would look uncomfortable to any normal human. He hummed softly as he released a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. He smiled, hearing the office door open and close.

“How’s business, Angel?”

“Oh, doing just fine.” Aziraphale responded, taking a moment to gaze softly at Crowley, whos attention was fixated out of the window.

“That’s good.” Crowley noted, finally turning to look at Aziraphale, who seemed to be searching for something. “We should go out for-” Crowley stopped mid sentence and dawned his glasses, which gained Aziraphale’s attention.

“Go out for what, Crowley?” He tried enticing the demon into continuing his thought.

“Ahh, yeah, hold on.” Crowley moved awkwardly until he was standing up, and he slunked to the door, cracking it open. His nostrils flared, and his tongue escaped from his lips for just a second. That was most definitely the smell of a demon.

“Angel.” He spoke softly, shutting the door. “We’ve got company. I don’t,” He stuck his tongue out again, making a rather bewildered face. “I don’t recognize them. Which is, I mean I know just about everyone down there.” 

“It’s, oh, how odd.” Aziraphale crept closer to the door, and to Crowley. It was much harder to discern, to him practically all demons smelled the same, though Crowley’s was a tad more distinct. But the smell of evil coming from his dearest Crowley and whoever had just entered the bookshop were too similar.

“Leave it to me, alright? I can handle this.” 

“Crowely, wait!” Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s chest to stop him. “Don’t you think, perhaps we should, you know?” Aziraphale was extending his hand out to Crowley, his eyes full of worry and his tone dripping with anxiety.

“No, no, angel, I’ll be alright. Besides, only one of em. If they try anything, step in. Nothing we can’t handle.”

Before Aziraphale could protest again, Crowley was in the main area of the bookshop. He watched from the doorway as Crowley walked in that distinct way he did to the stranger.

“Can I help you with-” Crowley cut himself off again as he stared at who was leaning against a wall, dripping with blood and in clear pain and distress. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “In the name of, what, what is, ehh, all of, this?” He motioned lazily to Gabriel, who picked his head up to smile weakly at Crowley. “When did all this happen?”

“I, I want to speak to Aziraphale.” Gabriel stammered as he tried to take a step forward, his knees weak and trembling. 

“Aah, that’s not, a good idea.” Crowley awkwardly placed his hands on Gabriel’s shoulders, keeping him not only from walking forward, but from falling as well. “It’s not even a good idea for you to be up here, look at the state of you!” 

“He’s my brother!” Gabriel choked on his protest, too weak to shake Crowley off of him.

“Crowley, you must tell me what is going on this instant!” Aziraphale demanded from behind him, trying to get a look at whoever he was struggling with.

“Aziraphale!” Both of the demons called out to him, one much more desperately than the other.

The angel took a sharp breath in and stepped back from the pair. “Why do you know my name? Who are you and what business have you in my shop?”

Crowley could see the heartbreak on Gabriel’s face. His expression, slack-jawed, wide eyed, and pained. Tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes as the realization hit him square in the chest, ripping his breath from his lungs. 

No matter how different he seemed, no matter that hellfire could no longer hurt him, Aziraphale was still an angel, and angels are not permitted to remember the fallen. 

“Don’t worry, angel!” Crowley chirped, slowly dragging Gabriel back towards the office. “Just need a few private words with my friend here, nothing to worry about!”

Aziraphale straightened out his jacket and watched as the two passed him. He was going to have to have a serious talk with Crowley about lying later, but he supposed it wouldn’t help at all to intrude again, in fact he quite regretted walking in on the two just now. Seeing that demon, there was something about him, a painful familiarity he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

Crowley was surprisingly easy with Gabriel, sitting him down with less force than expected in a chair in Aziraphale’s office. Once Gabriel was down, Crowley took a seat himself, having a dragged a chair to be across from his.

“That’s why I said you shouldn’t talk to him.” Crowley chided.

“Oh, can it!” Gabriel snapped, sitting stiffly in the chair, still dripping blood.

“No point in arguing now. So, what’s the name?”

“It’s still Gabriel.”

“Aww, oh no, don’t tell me you’re one of those redemption seekers.”

“Beelzebub has already warned me against it. Besides,” he raised a finger to tap the ear in which a fly was comfortably nestled, “they’re keeping an eye on me.”

Crowley gagged, briefly turning his head away. “Awck, I hate when they do that, feels so nasty in there.”

There was a silence between the two for a moment, neither of them speaking though both wanted to.

“So did Michael just, what, give you a stupid name or, what?”

“She didn’t.”

Crowley furrowed his brow as he leaned closer. “Well, that’s not like her at all.” He mused. “She’s a bitch anyway, in my opinion.”

Gabriel sneered at him as Crowley leaned back in his chair again.

“Well she is.” He rolled his shoulders, trying to make them as loose as his defense was. “She remembers us all. I know she does. She’s some weird exception.”

“How are you so sure?” Surely if Aziraphale couldn’t even remember Gabriel, Michael wouldn’t either.

Crowley was silent for a moment as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “She almost called me “Raphael” once. Got halfway through before realizing her mistake.”

Gabriel was quiet for a moment. He could feel the pressure in his chest from where she had placed her hand and pushed him. He could see her face, peering over the edge and watching him fall, and he swore he could remember seeing her smile just before he opened his wings.

“Cool down, hothead, we don’t need the shop to burn again!”

Crowley’s words snapped him out of his haze. He looked down at his hands, they were red and smoke was rising from them, and also from the burned insignia of an inverted cross in the center of his forehead. This was wrong. It was all wrong.

It should’ve been water.

His eyes burned a fierce red, yellow and orange retreated back towards his pupils as new shades of red formed and moved inside of his irises. 

He could remember so clearly water running over his blue-tinted hands, sliding it between his fingers as he filled paperwork, amusing himself by pushing it back and forth in a bowl or cup, that was his nature.

Fire felt wrong. It was compulsive, unstable, and erratic. Gabriel was none of those things. At least, he didn’t used to be.

He closed his eyes and took a few long breaths. Breathing was not a necessary thing for beings such as angels and demons, but it helped to calm him enough that he felt he wasn’t about to set the entire strip ablaze. 

“What am I supposed to do now?” Gabriel asked, dejected and cold.

“Come to terms, move on, and raise some hell.”

He stared at Crowely, who had taken to lounging in his chair. 

“It’s what I did. It’s not gonna do you any good to reminisce on the old days when none of the angels are ever gonna remember who you were or what you accomplished.”

Raphael had been a starmaker, Gabriel could remember that now. He had worked on constellations and galaxies, but he was most proud of his work on nebulas. The angel Muriel was the one who had been listed as creating the art that came from Raphael’s hands, when in fact she had only had a hand in the creation of the Constellation of Cancer. 

“Over six thousand years I served Her.”

“And now those thousands of years of service belong to Uriel, Michael, Sandalphon, Metatron, Jegudiel, Ariel, anyone except you. You’ve been wiped from their history.”

Gabriel stood, though unsteady on his feet. 

“Careful.” Crowley reminded him as he grabbed the wall for support. “You should really head back down. Get close to the fire, you’ll heal faster. And do let me know when you’ve got the name figured out!” Crowley called these things after Gabriel, who managed to make it out of the front door and back onto the streets of London.

“Dear boy, who was that?” Aziraphale asked, sliding up in front of Crowley.

“An old friend, I’ll tell you about him later.”