#good omens shitposting

[thestrangestperson]

Who would win tho?

[bilaudad]

so I know I’m not the only one to think of this, but season 2 seemed, in a lot of the ways, a lot of the time, to be sort of from Aziraphale’s perspective? No voiceover narration from God but we did get voiceover narration from a diary entry of his. The design choice to crank the saturation up to 11 was flattering for Crowley’s complexion and colors (the vavavoom yellow eyes! that violently candy-red hair! the dark colors of his wardrobe - so much rich contrast, and if there are any universal rules of beauty, which is generally in the eye of the beholder, it’s that contrast is aesthetically pleasing). And - with all love to Aziraphale and Michael Sheen - the colors and the lighting were not as flattering for him, with his lighter palette and less sharp contrast (bring back season 1 eyebrows! where are they keeping them??)

I don’t have the patience for too deep of a dive into meta and interpretation, and there are people with a far keener and better-trained eye than me who have already delved much more thoroughly into color and design analysis, and I’m happy to leave that to them. But it just made me think about how much I would enjoy a version of season 2 more from Crowley’s perspective. What would be different, what would stay the same?

Release gomens s2’s midnight sun is what I’m saying

[thattrainssailed]

good omens x dril

[blue-posey]

Amazing 😍🙌

Okay, buckle up buckaroos, because today I met an honest-to-goodness cryptid.

I was out running errands and I made a stop at Intimate Books (…for a friend), and on my way out I realized that the bookshop next door was open.

This bookshop has existed for more than a hundred years, and in all my life it has NEVER BEEN OPEN. I mean, I assume it has to be open sometimes, but never at any normal, reasonable hour. Everyone says it’s a front for the mob or something.

So what do you do when the weird mafia bookshop is open? You go the fuck inside.

The first thing I noticed was the smell. You know that smell when you accidentally leave your towel on the bathroom floor all day and you come back to that mildew funk? The shop smelled like that times a thousand. I expected to see stuff growing on the walls, but the books were pristine. We’re talking first editions, rare editions, weird Bibles and books inscribed to really famous dead people. Librarians would weep for the chance to accession this place. In the first two minutes I found a signed copy of The Crucible and what I think was a first edition of Blake’s Book of Thel.

Then a clerk showed up out of nowhere—honestly nowhere. He looked EXACTLY like a bookseller should look, kind of fluffy and bewildered and really, really gay.

“Are you lost?” was the first thing he said to me.

“Nope. Just browsing, thanks.”

“Browsing, I see. Erm. How do you feel about snakes?” he asked. And without waiting for me to answer, he just walked away and vanished around a shelf.

I figured it was a metaphor, or a code phrase for the mafia. Until I turned a corner like ten minutes later and found a little reading nook. It was really pretty, although I feel like that particular window should have been on an interior wall? Anyway, curled up in an armchair in a patch of sunlight was the biggest fuck-off black snake I have ever seen.

Like, I don’t mind snakes in general. But in their normal context, right? Outside. On the ground. Not six feet long and sitting on a threadbare velvet armchair like it owns the place.

I was about to turn around and leave, but I saw a gorgeous first-edition copy of Leaves of Grass on a shelf, a little too close to the snake for comfort. But I had never needed anything so badly in my life.

So I went back to the counter to buy it, but the clerk was nowhere to be found.

While I was waiting, I noticed a collection of pictures hanging on the wall behind the counter, dating back to the very dawn of photography. A couple were of this rock-star looking guy from the 70s that I should probably have recognized, but there were authors and landscapes and stuff, too. There was even an old tintype portrait of Oscar freaking Wilde, sitting in this very shop with a guy that I would ACTUALLY SWEAR was the clerk from before. Like, I know my family all has the same nose, but this guy had the same everything.

After approximately one year of waiting, the clerk came back out to the desk. By now I’ve realized that he’s too bad at his job to be anything but the owner of the shop.

“I saw your snake,” I told him.

“Did you? Was he behaving himself?”

“He was sleeping.”

“Yes, he enjoys that.”

“Does he just stay out in the open like that? What if he gets out?”

He shrugged and smiled. “He always comes home again, the dear boy.”

Right, a homing snake. That’s totally normal.

Then he cleared his throat and asked, in a weirdly reluctant voice, if I was going to buy the Whitman.

“Yes, please,” I told him. “I saw it on a shelf by the snake, and it was just too tempting.”

He sighed. “Oh, yes, I expect it was.”

When I started to hand him my card, he went all fluttery and said that they didn’t take cards.

All right, fine. I had some cash on me, but I told him that he’d sell a lot more books if he got a Square or something.

He got this scandalized look on his face and went, “Why would I want to do that?”

Oookay. I handed over the cash and he popped open the ancient till and started making change.

In shillings. Shillings! I swear to god I saw Queen Anne’s face on one of them. The silver value of the coins was probably as much as I paid for the book.

But I had to have proof that this happened—at that point, all I had was a book in a plain brown wrapper, not appreciably different from what I bought next door. So I asked him for a receipt.

He looked delighted and wrote one up for me.

By hand.

With a fountain pen.

And that’s the story of how I met a bookseller cryptid and his pet snake.

[thestrangestperson]

Can someone redraw this as Crowley and Aziraphale please? Thanks

[bilaudad]

Not Nice

[fenja-art]

Aziraphale is handling his role as archangel just fine.

[tehloserprince]

Beelzebub and Gabriel adopting hellhounds dogs.

(Guess who named which)

[crowleys-hips]

[ladybracknellssherry]

Well folks, it happened.

Today I had the talk.

With my therapist.

About Good Omens.

Did I get any advice on how to manage my hyperfixation that has taken over my life to the point that it has become a problem?

No.

Did he pull out his phone and Google "Good Omens" and say "Oh, Neat. There's a lot of famous people in this. Oh, Neil Gaiman! I'll have to watch this."

Why yes, yes he did.

Me:

[hg-aneh]

uwah

[cobragardens]

The Doctor Who weeping angel is the scariest but least dangerous character pictured

david tennant character vs. weeping angels

[crispyliza]

I've got you all figured out fanartists

[thestrangestperson]

On today's episode of animals that Crowley made during his time as an angel:

[cobragardens]

Crowley would love it once he figured out what was going on

Muriel: Maybe you shouldn't use pick-up lines for Mr Crowley.

Aziraphale *stops highlighting 101 Pick-Up Lines*: I beg your pardon, my dear?

Muriel: I've been reading more about humans, they usually advise a 'more personalised approach'.

Aziraphale:

[later that day]

Crowley: Hey angel could you hand me the wine bo--

Aziraphale: I may not have Azira-fallen from heaven...

Crowley:

Aziraphale: ...but I sure Azira-fell for you.

[bilaudad]

Danse macabre by Camille Saint-Sans is on the Aziraphale playlist, but danse macabre by Ghost is on Crowley’s.

Constant craving by k.d. lang is on both of theirs