#To Our World

[youryurigoddess]

Today, on the 5th Annual Azirafeast, the Feast Day of the Angel Aziraphale, remember to pamper yourselves with everything and everyone you love.

Be a team, a group, and celebrate what really matters. Especially if it seems hard to do at the moment.

To our world!

[beerok23]

Hey, fandom. We'll hear Crowley call Aziraphale 'angel' - again.

And nightingales will sing - again.

And this IS a miracle.

Let's try focus on that. Stay positive.

All together on our side.

To our world.

[wistfulnightingale]

The Night That Changed an Angel (or, why does Aziraphale still wear that shabby vest?)

Mini-Meta Musing (#4)

I've been brooding for a long time about, of all things, Aziraphale's worn velvet vest and the long cream jacket he's kept in "tip top condition for over 180 years now." I love the sweet familiarity, but this is the same angel who popped across the Channel and almost lost his fluffy-topped head in 1793 for dressing like an aristocrat.

"I have standards!"

He's the height of elegance, extravagance even. A dandy. We've seen the same at the Globe Theater 1601, Edinburgh 1827, and even as a Knight of the Round Table in 527 Essex, where he's wearing a glorious pelt across his shoulders! However, sometime after Edinburgh 1827, Aziraphale's stylish extravagance ends. He adopts the dress of distinguished but modest gentility. No seamstresses strain their eyes for days hand stitching ruffles and trims for him any longer. When we next see him in 1862, his clothing is refined, simple, and serviceable. It becomes his uniform, with only minor replacements. Why? What happened to change him?

Edinburgh 1827 happened. And his encounter with tragedy ran over his sensibilities like a locomotive.

Aziraphale had, we were told, saved his earnings over time and had bought land, invested wisely, and became quite well off. He used real money, not miracles, to build the bookshop, paying the builders well and taking care of bills honestly. He built himself up to a more than comfortable lifestyle, from nearly nothing. And his clothes are real, not miracled from nothingness like Crowley's. (source: original showrunner)

Aziraphale's wealth allows him to afford luxurious tailoring and fancy shoes and ruffles and trims. He'll certainly pay the cobblers and tailors and seamstresses well for their labors. It will be a substantial expense for the era. (The linked post gives a wonderful perspective on 1793 lifestyles and costs.)

https://agoodflyting.tumblr.com/post/753227014283083776/why-aziraphales-white-satin-pumps-are-ridiculous

The angel's Edinburgh multilayered and trimmed top coat, soft leather gloves, matching scarf, jacquard vest, silk cravat, etc., look entirely out of place in the back alleys where the poor huddle. Walking the clean, gas-lit avenues with Crowley and Elspeth, Aziraphale is oblivious to the privilege he has in this world.

As he strolls along in philosophical banter with Crowley about the "blessing" of poverty, the angel spouts trite pontifications created by the rich to justify poverty. He genuinely believes Elspeth has more opportunities for goodness.  After all, look at Wee Morag.  He respects her goodness tremendously.  It proves to him his “rightness.”  And so he sabotages Elspeth’s attempt to sell the body she dug up in her attempt to support Wee Morag.  Dalrymple gets no body, Elspeth gets no money, and Aziraphale believes he’s saving her soul.

It’s a poignant moment, though, when Aziraphale cradles the jar containing a tumor from a seven year old child who died because there wasn’t enough medical knowledge to save him.  Turning point number one.  It becomes Real, not a philosophical debate.  Selling stolen bodies puts good in the world.  He’s all for it now, and goes back to encourage Elspeth.  Good heavens, he’s even willing to help this time!

But, as we know, it all goes wrong.  Wee Morag is shot by a grave gun, and dies of her injuries.  Elspeth steals laudanum, and plans suicide.  Crowley drinks the laudanum, saves her in a compassionate Scottish frenzy, and is stolen away by hell because of his kindness.   And it is All. Aziriphale’s. Fault.

Turning point number two.  Another watershed moment where Aziraphale’s world changes again.

One of Crowley’s last earthly acts, before getting plunged into hell, is to have Aziraphale give Elspeth all of his pocket money.  What is pocket money to the angel is a fortune to her, one that can set her up for a better life.  I have no doubt that in the aftermath of the traumas of that night, missing and worrying about Crowley, Aziraphale thinks about all of this.  He considers all of the money he casually spends on fine clothing and expensive tailoring.  He wonders how many lives could change if that money was better spent on helping to relieve the poverty that surrounds him.  He wants to help, and to try to make amends for the harm he caused.  What would Crowley do, if he were free to be kind? And so Aziraphale changes.

I’d love to know the story of how it all played out.  Did he sell his fine clothing and donate the proceeds?  Did he become involved in charitable foundations?  Did he buy the clothing of a simple gentleman and decide to preserve it, however worn it became, as a reminder to himself of his past blindness and vanity?  We see in Season 1 how important it is to him to preserve that coat. (Sure, it's also a fantastic opportunity to flirt and flutter those angelic eyelashes... But, nonetheless!)

By Season 2, the angel who took too long justifying a life-saving miracle for Wee Morag, and who hesitated to give Elspeth his 90 Guineas, willingly and freely gave Maggie forgiveness for thousands of pounds of debt. I'd love to know what else he's done over the last 180+ years!

Whatever happened, it began that night in a graveyard.

[ineffable-rohese]

Thinking of Michael Sheen and his tartan socks and "To our world," and thinking that maybe he wasn't talking about Aziraphale and Crowley (or not exclusively) but about all of us. About all of the people whose love and passion has made Good Omens more than just a book/show for 30+ years.

He was a fan long before he was Aziraphale. He's loved this world the way so many of us have. And he, and other passionate, love filled people have been able to bring it to life and bring it to new audiences, who have fallen in love with it.

"To our world" means all the people with battered paperbacks with suspicious stains, or third copies because the previous copies were "loaned" to a friend and never returned.

"To our world" means everyone who's kindly argued over meaning and shared theories and provided historical context and found a deeper understanding.

"To our world" means all the artists who have imagined these characters in so many ways and shared their visions over the decades.

"To our world" means all the writers who have taken the source material and ran with it, expanding the world and bringing new meaning and new understanding to it.

"To our world" means all the cosplayers who transform themselves into the characters, who love them so much they need to become them, if only for a few hours.

"To our world" means the hundreds of lucky professionals who have gotten to do those things to turn a beloved book into a beloved show.

"To our world" means all of us and the friendships and love that has bloomed because of this thing we have co-created. Our world.

[metalmiez]

It was a beautiful day

The sun had been shining all day and warmed the air to a cozy temperature.

„More wine, my dear?“ Aziraphale asked lazily and turned his head to the slender figure next to him. Crowley had been basking in the sun for the past thirty-ish minutes - keeping his eyes closed and enjoying the warm light, leaned back on his elbows. Aziraphale had been reading meanwhile, laying on the blanket they had spread out on the grass.

It was calmingly silent on top of the hill, the breeze soft and the ocean in eyesight. Not a single soul out here but an angel and a demon, who had been enjoying a rather lovely picnic earlier that afternoon.

Crowley slowly opened his eyes and peeked through half-closed lids to the angel next to him. Aziraphale had put his book aside and held out the bottle of red wine they had brought with them.

“Nah.“ He declined and gazed at his angel instead. He couldn’t fight a fond smile creeping up his demonic lips as he watched Aziraphale put the bottle back into the basket. It was such a rare sight, seeing him without his bow tie, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows and his collar unbuttoned. Almost scandalous, for Aziraphale‘s standards.

“You look gorgeous today, angel,” Crowley smiled and watched Aziraphale blush.

“Oh, you old charmer!” he replied with pink cheeks, avoiding Crowley’s gaze. He fiddled with his ring, peeking at the demon every few seconds.

“And you, my sweethaert, look stunning - as always.”

Now it was Crowley who blushed and frowned by the pet name Aziraphale had started to use lately. He shouldn’t feel so flustered by that, he was a evil demon after all! But pride was a sin, so he let it slip. A little ‘Mrm’ sound left his throat.

Aziraphale laughed and leaned over to him, pressing a tiny kiss on the demon’s cheekbone. Crowley grumbled quietly, but still leaned into the soft touch. He was growing rather soft to the angel’s affections lately, and it got harder and harder to keep up the cool masquerade of mystery. When Aziraphale retreated, the demon huffed oh so little and reached out, trapping the angel’s chin between the fingers of his right hand. A little gasp fled Aziraphale’s throat as the demon pulled him back. Golden eyes met grey-blue ones, and the angel blushed again like anything. But he smiled as endearing as only Aziraphale could. A little mischief twinkled in his clear eyes before he closed them and leaned forwards the last bit, tenderly pressing his lips on Crowley’s.

The demon couldn’t resist the little smile as he watched his angel’s face closely, savouring his tender expression. His fingers stroked Aziraphale’s soft jawline, before cupping his face with his palm and closing his eyes, letting himself fall into a soft kiss.

This was the life he never dared to dream about. And still, here they were.

And that was everything he ever wished for.

[ufofrommarss]

Our world 🪽🐍

[elenthyaolyenths]

"I'm here for you."

At first, this one was meant to comfort a dear friend I couldn't reach.

Then I had a very bad week day, and sharing my sorrow with my friends on the Good Omens After Dark Subreddit has been so helpful. So, I finally decided to share this special one with our wonderful fandom. And in the end, it feels like we might all need a hug in these difficult times.

Let's dream again, and cheer up and support each other. Let's laugh and rant and cry and smile again, together.

To our world, whatever may come.

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[crowleys-curl]

PSA - #neil gaiman

Almost a month has passed now since the airing of Neil Gaiman’s alleged sexual abuse of two young women (I use that caveat to protect not him, but myself), and apparently now a third has come forward. Am I surprised? No. After all, where there’s smoke there’s usually fire, right? What I am is weary. Because this type of behaviour is of course not new – the powerful (and most often men) using their power and prestige to manipulate those who look up to them for their own pleasure, and perhaps as a salve to their own insecurities – about getting older, or about how great a maker they really are, when they look into their secret souls. Ok, so I guess I'm angry, too.

I haven’t written here about this before. I tend to worry about saying the wrong things, which I know is something I need to work on. But seeing so many fellow fans continue to tag their creative fandom content with the #neilgaiman tag makes me sad. I don’t want to miss out on having season 3 of Good Omens produced, but I think all of us who consume this media have a responsibility to not cover over these ugly truths. Even if you don’t feel comfortable speaking up, you can make small gestures, like not posting your fandom content with Neil’s tag – that way, the voices speaking up (whatever their angle – that’s what free speech is about, after all) will be better heard. And those fans who aren’t yet aware, since mainstream media seem disinterested at best at this point, might become better informed. Or at least aware.

Losing respect for someone you once looked up to in any way is a grieving process, and we all deserve the opportunity to undergo that. For me, Good Omens was my introduction to Neil Gaiman’s work (and Terry’s, too). But more so, I was inspired by his advice about writing; the small encouragements, the idea that even if you could sometimes only pen 50 words a day you could still write a book. And while I may no longer look at him with respect or for creative guidance, I refuse to let go of the renewed loved for writing and image making I’ve found since that last episode of season 2 grabbed me by the metaphorical lapels and changed me forever.

I love this fandom. A little part of my soul has found a home here with you all. I will continue to create and add to the world of Good Omens that belongs to all of us. And to believe the victims.

[suzypfonne]

Michael, for the rest of the day, after sending that tweet Sunday

[no-paperwork]

"..and they aren't talking."

Two ineffable swans ignoring each other in the pond.

[enthusiasteditor]

Michael, you bastard (in the most loving way possible)... I didn't want to cry today...

[inezrable]

You know those swinging benches you can get? I picture the south downs cottage having one in the garden, covered in flowers.

Good Omens 3 should end with Crowley and Aziraphale on it, with champagne toasting "To our world, and to us."

[wistfulnightingale]

A Mini-Meta Musing (#2)

What a brave and handsome demon, eh? Courageously facing down the forces of Hell, standing tall despite the threat to his very existance. Crowley showed such fearlessness when he was dragged off to his diabolical trial.

Except that's NOT Crowley. The demonic good looks remain (!), but we know that's actually Aziraphale. The angelic Principality. In Hell. About to be sentenced to an unknown fate.

I've been thinking a lot about Aziraphale lately. Tonight, I was thinking about the incredible Courage Aziraphale showed in his willingness to appearance-swap with Crowley. It was also incredible Love.

Agnes Nutter's prophecy only said, "Ye must choose your faces wisely, for soon enouff ye will be playing with fyre." Nothing about Holy Water or rubber ducks. Hell has a very, very long list of things it can do to punish someone, demons included, many of which might "play with fire." Aziraphale went into Hell not knowing what tortures he'd be facing. But he knew one thing for certain...

He was going to protect Crowley, at any cost.

Over the millenia, Aziraphale had seen many times where Crowley was under constant threat of punishment. I talk about how this affected Aziraphale in another post, Anything to Protect Crowley.

Now, after helping to prevent the Apocalypse and living to tell about it, they get a predestined warning that the danger is far from over. A charred shred falls out of a book of prophecy. The forces of Heaven and Hell want to destroy them. They will be playing with fire.

Our Ineffables are clever, and they've been learning a lot, fast, about how similar angels and demons actually are and what each of them are capable of. Aziraphale can possess humans, and move them from one location to another (the airbase guard). Crowley can survive hellfire, even though it discorporated Hastur. Crowley can play with fire. So they decide to do the unthinkable -- The Appearance Swap.

They take it seriously, indeed. Aziraphale and Crowley had to convince Heaven and Hell, and for a time, they had most of us convinced too. Crowley was enraged at how his angel was being treated ("Shut your mouth and die already"), but he forced himself to smile and fawn and be as polite as an angel with a death sentence could be. Aziraphale, meanwhile, is trying to be cocky, clever, sardonic, every bit the swaggering demon he can be. But look closely. He's not succeeding very well at first. He's subdued. The words sound like Crowley, making ironic jokes. But his head and neck are tense, shoulders rigid. His lips are parted as he looks around in dismay. He genuinely doesn't know what to expect.

If Heaven wants to play with fire to punish an angel, there's likely only one way to do it. But Hell has infinitely diabolical ways to punish a disobedient demon.

"What's it to be? An eternity in the deepest pit?" -- Aziraphale

Aziraphale chose to go into Hell with no certainty that he would ever come out again.

Please pause for a moment. Imagine the Love. The Commitment. The Incredible Courage that choice took.

Aziraphale was willing to risk eternal punishment for Crowley.

Thankfully for our Ineffables, Michael breezes in with the Holy Water. Aziraphale stammers in surprise, but his face is angry as he watches the Holy Water fill the tub. Heaven is only cooperating with Hell to bring about a horrible death for Crowley. His Crowley. He's furious. His posture straightens, he quips about the new jacket. By the time he's splish splashing in the clawfoot bathtub, he's got a very rebellious and smarmy Crowley vibe going on, with just a bit of British-posh angel lingering around the edges.

"I don't suppose that anywhere in the Nine Circles of Hell there's such a thing as a rubber duck?'

Aziraphale then threatens Hell. Threatens. Hell. "So... You're probably thinking, if he can do this, I wonder what else he can do. And very very soon, you're all going to get the chance to find out..." Ominous. An empty threat, a calculated risk.

He convinces them to leave Crowley ALONE.

"Aziraphale is a coward?" "Aziraphale doesn't really love Crowley?" "Aziraphale only cares about himself?"

No. Sorry. That's a mistaken interpretation. Look closer.

He's not perfect. He's actually very human. He's lived here for 60 Centuries, after all. Sometimes he's confusing, contradictory. Aren't we all sometimes...?

But Aziraphale literally allowed himself to be dragged into Hell to save the Being he loves. With no guarantee of returning.

Does Aziraphale love Crowley?

Hell yeah.

[baltimore-belle]

Michael Christopher Sheen what is this…!!!

[audrac-blue]

Ninety minutes to capture six thousands years of slow burn is not just not enough, it's an insult