#eagle lectern

[hoarder-of-dragons]

The only reason Aziraphale didn't mention the Eagle Lectern in Crowley's flat (and question it) is because he doesn't remember anything from the bombing at 1941 other than just Crowley saving him and seeing Crowley for the first time and Crowley saving him from the Nazis by entering the holy ground, Crowley ,Crowley ,Crowley.......

[tehrenb]

I have never until today heard the "bought" theory. Neil coming at us out of left field. Again. 🤣

hii !!! hoping you’re all well and good

okay so i was wondering is the bird statue in crowley’s flat meant to be a callback to the church ? cause it can be seen in both, but i’m not actually sure if it’s just a coincidence or if it really is the same one and crowley did save it from the rubble.

thanks !! <3

It is the same lectern. Crowley bought it from the people who demolished the church.

[hopelesslysleepy]

We see in both S1 and S2 that Aziraphale keeps Crowley's 1941 hat on the coat rack of his shop in the present day. (Yes, I know it's Terry's hat but indulge me for a moment.)

In the S2 1941 minisode, Crowley was wearing it when they were back in the shop for their candlelight wine date.

So when did he remove his hat?

Maybe he rushed out after a rather intimate moment and left it behind accidentally. Or perhaps Crowley left it deliberately for his angel. It's a little reminder of that certain night and a glimpse of what domestic life could be like for them. And Aziraphale keeps it, chooses to leave it out in the bookshop where he sees it all the time. His memento from 1941 is Crowley's hat, and Crowley's memento is the eagle lectern from the church.

I know we all lost our minds when we saw the eagle lectern in Crowley's flat, where he walks past it regularly, a constant reminder. But I think Aziraphale's keepsake in the bookshop is absolutely sweet and perfect for him. (And however the hat ended up there, Crowley did not get it back!)

[youryurigoddess]

Welcome to the Magic Shop

Or why Will Goldstone’s Magic Shop might be more important than it seems to be and why the Bullet Catch isn’t the only trick in its stock that should interest us in the context of the Good Omens plot.

Let’s start with very first thing Aziraphale saw and literally ran towards after crossing the shop’s threshold. It’s nothing else but the legendary sword Excalibur (foretelling the divinely appointed ruler) and a prop for a spectacular illusion called the Excalibur chest.

But wait, there’s more to it! During the handshake besides the Excalibur itself, placed right between Crowley and Aziraphale, there are three more swords struck into the angel’s back. It’s Tarot symbolism: reversed Ace of Swords (miscommunication, clouded judgement) and reversed Three of Swords (recovery from a difficult patch in a relationship or heartbreak). I’d say it checks out for the angel in this minisode! Reversed because they suddenly switched sides for this particular scene.

Insane how the Good Omens crew found a cobra from the snake-charming act and put it on the counter in front of Aziraphale — as if it wasn’t clear enough that this angel is a professional snake charmer, right?

I wanted to make a joke about Aziraphale buying the cobra afterwards, just like Crowley bought the eagle lectern as a souvenir of that night, but then I remembered… this stupid, sentimental snake HAD IT IN HIS BEDROOM IN S1.

Just imagine how many Aziraphale-related memorabilia he had accumulated over those six thousands years, when only one night out with the angel led to two new items in his collection.

The only way for Crowley to be more obvious would be covering the walls of his apartment with Aziraphale’s pictures like in a classic Stalker Shrine trope.

And since our thoughts are already in the present, there’s also something super interesting in the background between Crowley and Aziraphale during their visit in the shop in S2. Look to the right!

As you can probably suspect at this point, nothing in this shop is what it seems to be. This isn’t just any piece of rope, but a prop for the Indian rope trick, sometimes described as the world’s greatest illusion.

The story behind it revolves around someone going to Heaven and the magician bringing them back in the most spectacular fashion! And one of the Good Omens producers, Catriona McKenzie, shared this BTS photo with it some time ago.

The classic trick looks like this: the magician’s assistant climbs the rope until he’s lost to view, as if ascending to Heaven. The magician calls him and feigns anger upon receiving no response. He arms himself with a knife or sword, climbs the rope, and vanishes as well. An argument is heard and then human limbs fall, as if cut from the assistant’s body by the magician. When all the parts of his body land on the ground, the magician climbs down the rope, collects the severed limbs, and puts them all in a big basket. The assistant resurrects/reappears from it uninjured.

Not that it means something in particular, but this scenario would be extremely fun to play in the context of getting the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale back to Earth.

[feralbutfluffy]

57: Aziraphale

Chapter 57 of Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

*****

Crowley and Aziraphale had spent what might have been minutes or months curled into each other on the sofa before Crowley yawned, stretched theatrically, and said, “I think we should get some rest. What d’you say? Care to help this invalid to bed?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips in a show of disapproval, knowing ‘rest’ was the last thing on Crowley’s mind. 

The disapproval was entirely hollow.

His heart slammed against his ribs at the idea of lying with Crowley. They had managed to make the sofa feel sinful enough that a bed seemed like a dangerous proposition.

“...And the leopard shall lie down with the kid…”

Aziraphale wondered if one of them was the leopard. He wondered if one of them was the kid goat. He wondered which was which. 

He imagined Crowley’s teeth on his neck and felt a heavy, syrupy warmth settle deep in his bones. He thought he might be happy to be the kid. 

Crowley had always liked kids.

He stood up and absent-mindedly tugged at the seam of his trousers, then bent to put an arm around Crowley, who had slid over to the edge of the seat cushion. He threw his arm around Aziraphale’s neck, curling his fingers around the inside of his waistcoat; apparently, the fabric of his shirt wasn’t sufficient to guard against the burning awareness of their presence, because Aziraphale felt them acutely. He must have shivered in fact, because Crowley let out a soft huff of laughter.

“So sensitive, angel…” he teased, and there was nothing unkind in it.

Aziraphale helped him up to standing, and together they slowly made their way into the hall. He reluctantly acquiesced when Crowley asked to look around the flat. The floor around the plants was still strewn with shard-studded dirt, and Crowley’s face went curiously blank as he looked at it. A sharp tug on Aziraphale’s waistcoat betrayed the fact that his hand had clenched reflexively at the sight.

“What did they not destroy?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Very little, I’m afraid. Anything from here to your bedroom was fairly demolished.”

“Oh.” A thoughtful silence. “What about the rest of it?”

“The rest of it?”

Crowley pulled on his sleeve. “Let’s go the other way.”

“I thought we were going to bed?” Aziraphale frowned, frustration nipping at the base of his spine.

Crowley had the nerve to laugh, then ducked his head and kissed the highest part of Aziraphale’s cheek, where he strongly suspected a blush had turned his skin bright pink.

“We’ve already waited thousands of years, angel. What’s your rush?”

Aziraphale could hardly get the words out. “Exactly! That- That is my rush!”

Crowley smiled at him as if his frustration was delightful, and not something that might drive him to madness.

“Right. Yes, but first- ” he pulled at Aziraphale, who reluctantly obeyed, turning away from the bedroom, “... let me have a look, I just want to check on a few things.”

“Such as?” asked Aziraphale, thinking Crowley’s scant decor didn’t leave much to be checked.

“Well, the lectern and such.”

“That ghastly eagle lectern? That survived." Aziraphale raised his eyes to the ceiling. "... Although I would argue that whether or not that can be considered a good thing is debateable.”

Crowley’s lips quirked. “You think it’s ghastly?”

“Perhaps ‘ghastly’ is unkind, but you must agree it is a bit… much .”

Crowley cast him a sidelong glance. “Belonged to your side, so that makes sense I suppose.”

“How do you mean?”

There was a brief pause.

“Picked it up from a church.” He said it casually, clearly expecting a reaction.

“A chur- Crowley! You stole a lectern from a church?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Well I seriously doubt they were giving them away!”

“You don’t recognise it?”

Aziraphale blinked at Crowley, wrong-footed. “Should I?”

They had made their way over as they talked and now stood in front of it. Crowley leaned heavily against Aziraphale, draped across his shoulders, his weight comforting and warm. His eyes roamed over the lectern, looking for damage.

Aziraphale’s eyes, on the other hand, roamed over Crowley’s face. Eventually, satisfied it had survived the raid unscathed, Crowley looked down at him, and when he did the sheepish expression on his face was so captivating and unfamiliar that it made Aziraphale want to kiss him.

And then, unable to think of a single reason not to that he hadn’t already ignored, he took hold of the back of Crowley's head and pulled him down for a hungry kiss.

Might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb… 

When he pulled away, Crowley swayed against him looking intoxicated. “What was that for?” he mumbled.

It was a heady feeling, Aziraphale thought, to have such a visible effect on his oldest friend.

His-

The thought snagged in his mind and whited out into an incredulous blank. He turned back to the lectern.

“Should I recognise this?” He asked again, reaching out to touch the eagle’s wing. 

Crowley’s head tipped sideways, coming to rest against Aziraphale’s, a heavy point of pressure that made his mouth go dry.

“Well, you’ve definitely seen it before,” he said cryptically, and Aziraphale felt Crowley nudge his forehead into his temple. He swallowed hard. He was certainly new - very new - to this world of physical affection, but he was almost positive that whatever Crowley was doing could only be described as nuzzling.

Crowley’s soft breaths grazed his ear on each exhale, and a shudder wracked through Aziraphale’s body, his knees almost buckling.

Oh.

Considering Crowley was leaning on him for support, that wouldn’t do. 

Aziraphale twisted his head away, breaking contact and giving Crowley a reproachful look. The former demon raised his eyebrow in silent question, trying and failing to hide a grin. He lifted his left hand and slowly, slowly, excruciatingly slowly traced the side of Aziraphale’s face with the back of his index finger.

Aziraphale felt heat, a wave of liquid fire that crashed over him and ran through his entire body with uncontrolled intensity, his skin tingling with sparks in the aftermath. His lips parted and he tried to breathe, but only managed needy, frustrated panting.

How demeaning.

Crowley’s expression changed. He dropped his hand, and Aziraphale considered it an act of mercy; he couldn't have endured much more.

He turned away and tapped the eagle’s head. “You’ve seen this before,” he repeated.

“Oh,” The angel struggled to drag his focus back to the large piece of stone statuary.

“Do you remember the church where you attempted to double-cross a bunch of nazis-”

Aziraphale frowned.

“... And you were - very unwisely - armed with nothing more than some dusty old books, your usual unsuspecting nature, and a substantial amount of rather wildly misplaced trust?”

His eyes narrowed, but Crowley continued undeterred.

“And I - dashingly, if I do say so myself - managed to arrive just in time to save you?”

“And my books,” added Aziraphale without thinking. 

Crowley nodded. “And your books.”

There was silence then. Aziraphale looked from Crowley to the lectern and back again.

“But…” He felt his heart flip itself inside out, “... But everything was obliterated by the bomb. There was just… rubble… ”

“Mmn, yeah. Well, rubble and this thing,” Crowley nodded at the lectern. “Went back for it later, after…” he trailed off, a complicated expression flashing across his face. He cleared his throat. “Well. After.”

Aziraphale’s gaze drifted back to the lectern and he stared, unseeing, at the stone form.

“Oh.”

Oh.

His mind pulled up the memory entirely unbidden; a completely dishevelled Crowley backing up against the bookshelves, face stricken, eyes wide with panic. Crowley almost stumbling out the door in his haste to leave. 

The thought that, after everything, he had returned to the church and dragged the lectern home as a souvenir made Aziraphale’s heart ache, and the knowledge that he had kept it in his apartment as one of the few impractical items in his flat… Well it made him want to pour that aching heart into a puddle at Crowley’s feet.

His throat tightened with emotion.

"I'm very sorry about that night, Crowley," he said in a quiet voice. "I didn't- I couldn't- It was too much-"

He looked up at Crowley to find his face drawn, his gaze fixed on the wall somewhere beyond Aziraphale's right shoulder.

"Not you, you were... " he trailed off lamely, trying to explain something he wasn't sure he fully understood. "... I felt too much. It felt good, and I was so afraid it might be wrong, you see. I'm sorry I blamed you. It was easier to blame you than to admit I might have done a bad thing, or- or- or been a bad angel."

Crowley's expression softened, "I know."

Aziraphale looked back at the lectern. "You really went back to that church for this?"

"Felt like I needed to find something intact in the ruins of it all," Crowley said. "Thought it might help me remember the good parts of the night, the parts before... well, before it all went to Hell in a handbasket."

Aziraphale stared openly at him.

“Anyway,” Crowley ducked his head, embarrassed, and tried to steer him away from what he had previously considered an incongruous and unnecessarily large piece of home decor.

Now he saw it as a monument to a night neither of them could forget.

“You know, Crowley,” he said, allowing the former demon to dictate the pace as they headed back up the hallway, “I think you might be what humans call ‘a romantic ’.”

“Yes, alright. Rub it in why don’t you,” he grumbled.

Their heavy footsteps echoed around them.

A thought occurred to Aziraphale that turned him slightly pink. “You’ll no doubt be glad to know that your blasphemous statue is - unfortunately - also still with us,”

“My blasphemous statue?” Crowley’s brow furrowed. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

“Oh! You know ,” said Aziraphale.

“Not at all! Describe it, go on. Maybe it will come to me.”

Aziraphale glared at Crowley, who looked back with an infuriating expression of pure innocence.

“The statue of the two angels,” he muttered.

“I have a statue of two angels?”

“Well, an angel and a demon."

"Really?" He dragged the word out far longer than necessary. "I don't recall. What are they doing?"

They’re… fighting.” He felt the heat in his cheeks. He slid a furtive glance at Crowley, who was watching him speak, half-lidded eyes fixed on his lips.

“... Oh is that what they’re doing?” Crowley murmured into his ear with a smile.

He was enjoying himself immensely, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but give him a small answering smile of his own.

They had finally reached the bedroom, and they stepped inside.

Their smiles immediately dropped into matching expressions of bewilderment.

“Muriel,” Aziraphale said, by way of explanation.

He reached up and squeezed Crowley’s hand apologetically.

“Ah yes,” said Crowley faintly. “Finishing touches.”

[a-mermaids-heart]

dissolving into the floor thinking about how crowley saved the eagle lectern--a memento from the night aziraphale asked him to trust him and he did

[suspiciouscharacter1895]

New fic uploaded. If you’re into a mental retreat to Season 1, a little angst, and/or spice, you may enjoy!

“Angel?” Crowley’s voice was soft behind him. Aziraphale hadn’t heard his approach. His hand still rested on the lectern.

“You went back for this.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Crowley stayed silent and still. He didn’t need to say anything now. He had never made a secret of how he felt about Aziraphale, not really. It had always been up to Aziraphale, and Aziraphale was entirely out of time.

It’s the night of the failed Armageddon. Aziraphale goes back to Crowley’s flat and stumbles across the Eagle statue from the 1941 church. Some things have been a very long time coming. Maybe some of them will happen now.

[mimisempai]

It feels like home

Summary

For the first time since he and Aziraphale have been together, Crowley begins to realize the meaning of being home. 

Notes

Canon in the book: Crowley has his CDs and books arranged alphabetically 

"He tried to sort his CDs into alphabetical order, but gave up when he discovered they already were in alphabetical order, as was his bookcase, and his collection of Soul Music.".

On Ao3

Rating G -  1192 words

Night was beginning to fall as Crowley parked the Bentley in front of the bookshop and got out.

"Bonsoir Crowley!"

He turned to see Madame Justine waving at him. He replied with a nod, and as he turned to walk toward the bookstore, his gaze was drawn to the lighted coffee shop and he saw Maggie and Nina chatting in close proximity. 

That made him chuckle and he murmured "vavoom..." before continuing on his way. 

He was about to open the bookshop door when Muriel burst out of it and, seeing him, exclaimed, a broad smile on their lips, "Good evening, Mr. Grumpy!" 

Crowley muttered, "Aziraphale was right, you are really getting cheeky!" then added, winking at them, "I like it. Change nothing.” 

Then, pointing in the direction of the apartment where Muriel was living, he ordered them in a tone whose protectiveness he could not hide, "Go home now, even for an angel, even in this neighborhood, it's never a good idea to be out alone after dark."

Muriel started to walk away, then threw over their shoulder, "I actually knew you were nice," then, seeing Crowley's grimace and about to retort sharply, they ran off laughing, openly mocking him.

Crowley shook his head and entered the bookshop.

Closing the door behind him, he said in a slightly louder voice, "Angel, I'm h-"

Realizing what he was about to say, he stopped in mid-sentence. 

Was this it?

Being home.

How could he know?

Whether in hell or in his own apartment, he'd never felt like this before.

Both places had nothing to make you feel at home.

Hell, because... well, it was hell. 

And his apartment, dark, without warmth, with its minimalist furniture, his few works of art and his plants. 

He had never felt what he felt now.

Belonging.

It took his breath away. 

He looked around and saw his plants placed here and there, between two shelves, one near Aziraphale's desk, one on a small table apart because it had become Muriel's plant. Aziraphale's apprentice had chosen this particular plant because it was smaller and more delicate than the others. Another plant could be seen on one of the steps leading up to the bedroom.

The bedroom.

Their bedroom.

His and Aziraphale's.

A new place, just for them. 

Their own sanctuary.

Then the demon's eyes slid over his CD collection in the back of the bookshop, neatly arranged unlike everything else around it. Because he liked it that way. Because even if Aziraphale wasn't exactly a stickler for order in his books, he respected the fact that Crowley was one for his CDs.

His gaze moved to the frame hanging on the wall just above the CD collection. His Mona Lisa, signed by his friend Leo. 

Al mio amico Antonio dal tuo amico Leo da V.*

His Ming vase in a corner, magically fixed to its base, his Eagle lectern on which lay a large book from Aziraphale's collection. 

He realized that his own possessions had become part of the bookshop, blending in with the rest of the decor as if they had always belonged there.

“Our car.”

Shocked, Crowley swallowed and replied, “ We don't have a car.”

Aziraphale retorted with assurance,“Of course we do. Isn't she a beauty?”

Crowley, annoyed, insisted,“This Bentley is my car.”

The angel answered gently, “Well, yes, technically. Just as that bookshop is technically my shop,  but... we both get plenty

of use out of it, don't we?”

Our.

We.

These words were so real now. Their fragile "we" before their near separation and reconciliation had now become tangible. Physically validated by their now completely intertwined lives.

Their "us" had become a home.

Crowley murmured softly, letting the words roll off his tongue, "I am home."

"Ah, there you are, my dear, I saw the Bentley pull up in front of the bookshop, so I thought it would be a perfect time to share a little appetizer."

Aziraphale came from the back of the shop, a bottle of scotch in his hand and two glasses.

He paused, smiled at the demon, and said in a natural way, "Welcome home," before turning and setting the glasses and bottle down on the small table by the sofa, oblivious to the emotion running through Crowley.

Turning, the angel saw that the demon hadn't moved, still standing in the same spot at the entrance of the bookshop.

He approached with a worried expression and then, studying Crowley's face, asked softly, "Are you all right?"

Crowley murmured, "I'm home."

Aziraphale smiled fondly and, now standing in front of him, took his hand and said gently, "Yes, you are, here we are, home. You look so surprised."

Crowley nodded, and as the two of them made their way to the sofa, holding hands, he explained, "Well, you know, angel, before, my apartment, you couldn't really call it home. It was more functional than anything. Not very warm, if you know what I mean. And to be honest, pretty lonely. Not to mention that I had absolutely no contact with the neighborhood. So when I arrived today, just on the street, Madame Justine greeted me, I saw Nina and Maggie in the cafe across the street, I bickered with Muriel. All these little moments, added to the fact of arriving here and seeing all my possessions here, made me realize that all these parts of me were now mixed up with yours. That our separate lives had become our life, and I finally became aware of what it meant to be home."

He sat on the sofa while Aziraphale filled their glasses, and he noticed that something else had changed. Before, they'd always sat facing each other when they drank, but now even that distance had disappeared. As if he'd heard what he was thinking, Aziraphale handed him his glass and sat down next to him.

Under the angel's attentive gaze, Crowley continued, "I don't remember feeling this way before. The closest thing to feeling like being home is probably the joy I felt in heaven. Creating my nebulae. But even that felt nothing like what I feel right now."

Aziraphale nodded gently and raised his glass to him, saying softly, "To us and that wonderful feeling of being home."

Crowley clinked his glass against Aziraphale's and each took a sip.

It was at that very moment, when Aziraphale looked at him in that loving way, with that soft smile, that the demon fully realized that he was home, and that realization was more vivid than the one he had when he entered the bookshop.

He put down his glass, took the angel's from his hands, and placed it on the table.

Turning completely to Aziraphale, he cupped his face in his hands, leaned over him and said in an emotional voice against the angel's lips: "I'm home because you're my home, angel."

He closed the distance and pressed his lips to the angel's in a deep, tender kiss.

A kiss that felt like he was all the way back where he belonged.

A kiss that felt like home.

*To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo from V.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[randommusingofnothing]

St Dunstan-in-the-East and 1941/1967

Diving back into Tumblr with this one. Haven't written meta musing in years, here we go. All photos & gifs are not mine, but used for help illustrating my thoughts.

I've been fascinated diving into the possibility of hidden details surrounding the bombed church in 1941. Neil Gaiman confirmed that he had St Dunstan-in-the-East in mind for it, while Douglas Mackinnon explained why it doesn't quite match up visually.

Here's the thing.. there's an odd coincidence with the Good Omens timeline further along once we establish St Dunstan's as the setting.

We also can't talk about this without mentioning the eagle lectern standing at the end of the hall in Crowley's apartment throughout Season 1.

The same one that survived the bombing of the church in 1941. Neil states that Crowley bought it from the people who demolished the church. Despite how minimalist Crowley keeps his apartment, he kept a souvenir of probably one of the most important nights in their history we've seen so far, and the only flashback that appears in both seasons.

This is where things start to unintentionally (or maybe intentionally, who knows) start to align.

The history of St Dunstan's has a second specific year that coincides with another critical point on the Good Omens timeline.

From Wikipedia - "In the re-organisation of the Anglican Church in London following the War it was decided not to rebuild St Dunstan's, and in 1967 the City of London Corporation decided to turn the ruins of the church into a public garden, which opened in 1971."

The church sat destroyed for 26 years, until 1967 when suddenly the city decided to .. change it into a garden. A garden built on the ashes of holy ground. The same year this scene plays out.

But I want to go back to St Dunstan's in 1941 first, because some of the parallels of what happened during the flashback compared to what happened with Eden deserve some attention too. The Angel of the Eastern gate in a church bearing a direct reference to the eastern direction. A situation where Aziraphale has weaponized a temptation - offering knowledge in the form of prophecies to a set of humans, as a set up for them to fail and be caught by the authorities. Just as Crowley hinted about Adam and Eve were likely set up to fail by God by the too-obvious placement of the tree. The Snake of Eden himself, present in both situations. He's warning/tempting the Nazis to flee the church, due to his interference in where the bombs would land that night, a similarity to how Adam & Eve fled Eden due to the chain of events he set in motion by tempting Eve. He even takes the time to discuss 'getting into trouble' and introducing his newest name to Aziraphale, just like they did on Eden's walls. And just like Eden, Crowley relies on Aziraphale to shelter him once the skies start to fall.

This time though, a garden springs from the ruins of a holy ground he helped to tear down. A garden created & enjoyed by all humanity.

Phew. Back to 1967.

With these matching timelines.. Did Aziraphale's gesture in handing over the holy water + indicating a picnic or lunch at the Ritz was more his speed cause Crowley to get sentimental over their past? Did he influence the city into doing something with the church's grounds as an unspoken thank you to Aziraphale, also gaining himself access to the lectern to buy & take home? He waited 26 years before buying that lectern, so why did it suddenly matter to him in 1967? He could have gone and stolen it whenever he wanted prior to then.

Or did Crowley make the first move here? Did he influence the city government into doing something first with St Dunstan's as an unspoken attempt to reach out? Which caught Aziraphale's attention, reminding him of Crowley's comments about holy water and causing him to look further just what he was up to at this time?

If there's one thing that strikes me during the car conversation, is that it feels like something broke again between these two between 1941 and 1967. They aren't acting like they are in the same headspace or relationship development that they were when we last saw them, drinking wine and agreeing on shades of gray in 1941 part 2. (Enter my thoughts that there's a third act to 1941 in season 3, as evidenced by Aziraphale's mention of a yet-unseen apology dance). Either one of them instigating a reach out after a period of silence via an act of service feels on brand, similar to Crowley's breaking of their 80-year silence by showing up to rescue Aziraphale in the first place in 1941.

Or it's simply digging in too deep on what is probably an occam's razor - Crowley took advantage of the city's renovation to buy the lectern for himself, without any additional motivations or reasons. It's just a coincidence that it matches up to 1967.

Any which way you look at it, Crowley getting the lectern, the church being transformed into a public garden, and Aziraphale's Holy Water all happen around the same time, thanks to the confirmation about the church's identity as St Dunstan-in-the-east. (Which is a lovely place, I visited it earlier this year, definitely recommend if you are looking for Good Omens-inspired locals).

[embervoices]

"Crowley kept the eagle lectern from the church in 1941"

Well yeah. Though... why was it ever an eagle?? Shouldn't it be a dove, for the Holy Spirit, or something?

*looks more closely*

Huh. Those are flames that bird is rising out of.

That's not an "Eagle Lecturn", that's a phoenix!

(Why'd he keep the book attached??)

[Edit] Ahh, I'm told Eagle Lecterns are common, at least in the UK. Probably here in the US too, looking at the examples from Wikipedia. Looks like they're usually standing on globes, and echoing the Tetramorph thing, for (usually) John. I DO get why John the Evangelist would be a symbol associated with a lectern used for sermons (though it's also probably just that Eagles with outstretched wings work better than lions and bulls as lecterns, on that front, eh?)

Even so, that's different than this lectern - they aren't usually rising out of flames! So this Eagle Lectern is still, I maintain, a Phoenix!

[just-another-bored-killjoy]

cathedral eagles are actually a thing. lecterns are made to look like eagles because of the belief that eagles fly the highest in the sky and are closest to heaven.

"everybody hates the eagles" could possibly mean these two things:

everybody hates the person preaching. "preach all you want but who's gonna save me?" "stop your preaching right there cause i really don't care".

everybody hates the person on the top. this could very well mean the government because eagle is literally the national symbol of usa. and during their live shows they said "chairs are very important" chairs signify power and authority

so, why would they keep dropping hints which can be spun into a story without any plans of future music? they did not do this during the previous two legs of the tour. the continuity of their shows have become significantly noticeable. i am pretty sure they have something in mind.

[tonydaddingham]

LWA with a short-winded addendum to a recent set of posts about what the characters know & don't know about each other: the fanon "they've been pining for 6000 years" and, for that matter, Crowley's "they've been friends/a balked couple for 6000 years" not only don't conform to what we see on the screen, as I said before, but also don't conform to anything the /actors/ have said about what they're playing. DT and MS both describe what's happening in terms of two characters being drawn together slowly and inexorably over millennia, not two characters falling in love at first sight (with MS noting in one S1 interview that the one-character-split-in-half bit absolutely informs what he's doing). Aziraphale really doesn't fall in love until 1941! (It may even be mutual: Crowley's decision to buy the eagle lectern suggests that he realizes /something/ important happened to their relationship there, even if he can't name it.) Crowley really doesn't have any idea that he's in love until whenever S2 is! You can even make a good case that he doesn't consciously understand how /much/ he feels about Aziraphale until the bookshop fire in S1.

hi again LWA✨ little lie down and strengthening tonic (see: wine) have been administered and i now have the strength to answer this, although it will be a bit more succinct - exactly this! i think you've said about this before (your asks blur into one sometimes im afraid, even without the wine) and it really is just that: i do hold that they are somewhat fascinated by each other (to varying degrees, at different times, and nearly always one sided until the later years), but they are not in love.

i am particularly concerned about the eden scene; is aziraphale that put off by crowley having become a demon, compared to his little crush he sported pre-fall? almost seems a bit unkind and disingenuous of him (and maybe that's the whole point, but [insert memory wipe theory]), and even though we have the "i remember the angel you were" line, i do wonder if aziraphale is recollecting the same scene we were shown? idk, probably over-analysing it and haven't thought it through properly, but he does go remarkably cold from eden onwards, up until job i guess, and that seems a little... odd.

the lectern is a good point re: where crowley's head might have been after the events of the 40s minisode... still fairly certain that there's more to come of this snapshot in their history, because whilst on one level the tension of the 1967 scene does make sense to follow the events of the 1941 minisode, it also... doesn't? i feel like we're still missing something key here that truly hammers home why aziraphale seemingly does a 180 from his behaviour in 41, and ends up with, "you go too fast for me, crowley"... willing to bet a fair deal of money that that snippet of their history does not end with the dinner.

but yeah in any case; absolutely i do not think they were in love from the first, as lovely as that might be to think. attraction, interest, intrigue - yes, all possible... but not love.

[youryurigoddess]

The stuff dreams are made of, or the interesting case of Anthony J. Crowley

We’ve talked a bit about Crowley’s trauma and his way of reclaiming the narrative in the past, but it’s time for some deep dive into the story he’s trying to tell. A story that meanders through the fabric of time and space, slightly changing with the human fashion trends, but slowly and surely bringing the demon closer to a certain angel like the red thread of fate.

1793

Some stories start in a garden, some even Before the Beginning, but this one starts with an Arrangement. Or, to be precise, a little bit after that.

See, most of the iterations of Crowley we saw throughout the history until then didn’t delve too deep into human cultural tropes. If anything, they were the inspirations behind more or less prominent biblical figures, maybe some nameless villains matching his demonic provenance and role assigned to him by his employers.

But in the hustle and bustle of the revolutionary Paris, Crowley emerges as a prototype of the Scarlet Pimpernel — a chivalrous Englishman who rescues aristocrats before they are sent to the guillotine. Stan Lee famously called him “the first character who could be called a superhero”.

Sir Percy Blakeney, the main character of the novel and the West End play under the same title, leads a double life. Appearing as nothing more than a wealthy fop, in reality he’s a formidable swordsman, a quick-thinking master of disguise and an escape artist. Even his own wife, Marguerite, has no idea.

Unfortunately Marguerite is being blackmailed with her brother’s life to find and expose the wanted Pimpernel. She regrets betraying her husband the moment she's forced to do it and spends the rest of the plot working to save him. She does, they make up, and return together to England.

In Aziraphale and Crowley’s case there was just a short stop for crêpes. But what seems to be an inspiration of a specific scene might as well come up later in the wider perspective of the show, so keep in mind those fragments of the musical’s libretto:

We all are caught in the middle

of one long treacherous riddle.

Can I trust you?

Should you trust me too?...

We shamble on through this hell

taking on more secrets to sell

'til there comes a day

when we sell our souls away.

We seek him here, we seek him there,

Those Frenchies seek him everywhere!

Is he in heaven? Is he in hell?

Where is that damn elusive Pimpernel!

1941

The London Blitz is when we see a full-fledged iteration of the superhero Crowley performing dashing and heroic deeds under the literal cover of darkness and air bomb smoke. In a bespoke double-breasted suit and a fedora — still free from the unfortunate modern connotations from the internet culture — he’s clearly channeling Humphrey Bogart as a private investigator Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon (1941) now.

It all starts with a woman and a simple plan gone wrong: Spade’s partner is shot dead, just like the man he was supposed to be tailing upon the request of a mysterious Miss Wonderly. And when a very soft-looking, sweet-scented man named Joel Cairo appears in his office willing to pay a hefty price for a "black figure of a bird", Spade starts not only a new job, but also his own quest for truth.

On the surface, The Maltese Falcon ends happily: the killer gets caught, and the hero winds up with the Falcon. But Spade's victory is completely hollow. The Falcon itself, originally meant as a symbol of loyalty, transforms into a symbol of a corrupting, futile, and self-destructive greed that makes people betray their own loyalties.

The treasure is just a worthless forgery and he’s fallen in love with the criminal — one of the first femmes fatales on screen. Despite his feelings for her and a kiss, Spade gives her up and submits the statuette as evidence, describing it as "the stuff that dreams are made of".

Remember the eagle lectern? The eagle was believed to be flying highest in the sky and therefore closest to heaven, symbolizing the carrying of the word of God to the four corners of the world. Aziraphale in the 1941 church scene is the closest to Heaven we’ve seen him on Earth. Just look at him: dressed in a smart, well-fitted coat with peaked lapels, symbolizing his Heavenly allegiance, and doing good this time not as a work assignment, but of his own accord. Being the closest to Heaven means the furthest and most unattainable for a demon like Crowley.

The Maltese Falcon is a metaphor for unattainability — things out of reach to desire and fight for, although never truly possess. It’s “the stuff that dreams are made of”. But Crowley secured the original — made of gold and encrusted with jewels, but hiding its real value under black enamel — eerily reminiscent of the demon himself and the unending kindness behind his inappropriately tight black clothing.

Quoting Michael Ralph — the production mastermind behind Good Omens — from the S01E04 “Saturday Morning Funtime” DVD commentary, “We wanted to tip our hat to the Maltese Falcon as being a precious object that no-one thought really exists but it does”. So we can safely assume that Crowley can and will achieve his dream in the future.

1967

Do you know what else happens in 1941 in Scotland? Ian Fleming, a British naval intelligence agent, meets with the famous occultist Aleister Crowley and asks him to lead the interrogation of newly imprisoned Rudolf Hess — a leading member of the Nazi Party in Nazi Germany appointed Deputy Führer — given the two men’s shared enthusiasm for the occult.

This meeting has a significant impact on Fleming’s work as a writer; Aleister Crowley becomes the inspiration for his first villain Le Chiffre and creates a blueprint for most of the James Bond’s franchise ever since 1953, the publication date of the novel Casino Royale.

Meanwhile our Anthony J. Crowley believes in himself not being the villain he’s usually and sometimes forcefully painted as, but a superhero in disguise. The character of James Bond in particular inspires him so much that he buys petrol to get the limited You Only Live Twice (1967) window decals for his Bentley, dons his own tactical turtleneck, and sets off to organize a heist like no other. Sean Connery style.

Like a typical superhero, Crowley’s once again both saved and betrayed by his love interest. Aziraphale leaves him with a thermos of Holy Water, a faint smile, and a hope that they’ll soon match their speeds to meet halfway at the Ritz. The cancelled heist is not an ending, but a promise of a new beginning. And the fact that UK decriminalizes homosexual acts in the very same year is more than telling in this regard.

2019

An exceptional situation calls for exceptional solutions, and what’s more important than the impending Apocalypse? Demon Crowley does his best to put the arsenal of his 20th century film inspirations to good use.

"Ask yourself, do you feel lucky?" Crowley drawls, clearly imitating (although slightly misquoting) the titular Dirty Harry (1971). He’s hoping to be menacing and making the point of being the one on the right side of the law and history.

Some situations require more than quoting action heroes is not everything though. He knows what to do:

A jeep was heading purposefully towards the gate, and it looked as though it was crowded with people who were about to shout questions and fire guns and not worry about which order they did this in.

[Crowley] brightened up. This was more what you might call his area of competence.

He took his hands out of his pockets and he raised them like Bruce Lee and then he smiled like Lee Van Cleef.

'Ah,' he said, 'here comes transport.'

When in doubt, Crowley acts. He transforms into a combination of a stoic martial arts phenomenon and a sardonic, menacing character. His smile alone — even on Aziraphale’s angelic face, as seen in one of the final cut scenes — seems to be enough to ward off evil spirits, angels, and humans alike.

But we all know that even as breathtaking performances as those can’t protect anyone from the cogs of the Heavenly machine and its plans.

2023

No wonder that Crowley’s tactical turtleneck comes back in style after mere four years of retirement with a self-introduction “Former Demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”. Something has changed during this time; he’s more mature now, not playing pretend by hiding behind the usual veneer of sarcasm and movie quotes anymore. Finally comfortable with the fact that this is his own story and there’s no need to become anyone else than himself.

The bookshop fire and the Heavenly trial still seem to haunt the demon in a way that makes him realize what all humans know: that every hero is his own biggest enemy. His ultimate dream might effortlessly change into his greatest nightmare any moment now, and the only thing he can do about it is hover in a two-minute distance from the epicenter of his feelings. But Crowley has no time to work on it when a new mission appears, to protect his angel from Gabriel and the combined powers of Heaven and Hell. Even if this — rather ostentatiously — is the last thing he wants to think about at the moment.

Crowley tries to plan ahead, while his story slowly warps into a different genre due to Aziraphale’s interruptions. He eventually changes back into his usual Henley shirt after agreeing to swap places and guarding the bookshop while the angel is off to Edinburgh, collecting more clues. Did he finish his personal quest off-screen? Did he just give up on it in the whirlwind of matchmaking shenanigans? Remains to be seen.

In the S2 finale our master of disguise in yet another turtleneck proves that he can successfully infiltrate even the universe’s back office. We don’t know where he drives off in the end, but one thing is certain — he’s got a plan. And a world (and his dream) to save, like a superhero he is.

[de-gueules-au-lion-d-or]

“The truth about Gothic architecture is, first, that it is alive, and second, that it is on the march. It is the Church Militant; it is the only fighting architecture. All its spires are spears at rest; and all its stones are stones asleep in a catapult. In that instant of illusion, I could hear the arches clash like swords as they crossed each other. The mighty and numberless columns seemed to go swinging by like the huge feet of imperial elephants. The graven foliage wreathed and blew like banners going into battle; the silence was deafening with all the mingled noises of a military march; the great bell shook down, as the organ shook up its thunder. The thirsty-throated gargoyles shouted like trumpets from all the roofs and pinnacles as they passed; and from the lectern in the core of the cathedral the eagle of the awful evangelist clashed his wings of brass, and amid all the noises I seemed to hear the voice of a man shouting in the midst like one ordering regiments hither and thither in the fight; the voice of the great half-military master-builder; the architect of spears. I could almost fancy he wore armour while he made that church; and I knew indeed that, under a scriptural figure, he had borne in either hand the trowel and the sword.”

— G.K. Chesterton

[insidecroydon]

Minster tour delights audience - and discovers 'new' history

Inside Croydon would like to thank the two dozen loyal readers who attended our latest event this week, and with their generous donations have raised £200 towards Croydon Minster’s restoration funds. Marvel of the Minster: David Morgan leading Tuesday’s iC tour, with the 15th Century eagle lectern Leading the way on Tuesday evening, after the iC readers had enjoyed the wonderful music of the…

[reloha]

Nice that this includes the eagle lectern Crowley took home from the bombed church.

There was magic abroad in the air