#inexperienced aziraphale

[aziraphales-library]

Hello, I’m looking for fics where Aziraphale has religious trauma specifically around sex. I wanna see him and Crowley working through it to have a healthy sexual relationship. Preferably on the shorter side like 20k ish or less but not super picky about that part. Thanks!

Hi. Here are some fics in which Aziraphale has religious trauma and explores sex with Crowley. Most of them are on the longer side, sorry...

Snake Lessons by chamyl (E)

“That’s the point, Crowley!” Aziraphale snapped. “I’ve never done this before. I couldn’t. They kept track of what we did with our corporations, and I’m sure Hell doesn’t care, but Heaven was very much clear that angels are not supposed to indulge in sex.” Crowley didn’t know how to respond to that. He tried to start several sentences at once, producing an array of incoherent sounds that made no sense at all. When he finally regained control over his tongue, he asked, “Not once? In six thousand years?”

in your own time by ineffabildaddy (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley grew up together as next-door neighbours on Hogback Lane, classmates at the local Catholic school, and inseparable best friends. By the age of eighteen, both were hopelessly in love with the other, despite the knowledge that they were doomed to live apart, as Crowley aimed to pursue university study in London and Aziraphale committed himself to remaining in Tadfield, dedicating his life to the Church. After almost twenty years spent away from his hometown, renowned botanist Crowley decides to come and visit Tadfield again at a moment's notice; the purpose of his visit is to speak at a Careers Day for the school he and Aziraphale, now a beloved priest and a frequent helper at the school, attended. The twenty-four hours that follow will change both of their lives for ever.

Night and Day by wyrmy (E)

Aziraphale Engel, black sheep of his strictly religious family, lives a quiet and monkish existence in the middle of London, trying to avoid the many temptations of the flesh and do his bit for the church that his father founded. But his quiet, untroubled, and unhappily narrow existence is about to come to an end, and he will be faced with the choice to give up even more of who he is or to survive in the real world.

Ink Stained Bleeding Hearts by WillowTea (E)

Ready for a fresh start, Anthony J. Crowley opens shop across the road from a lovely tattooist, Aziraphale Fell. After everything he's been through, Crowley is not ready to fall head over heels for Aziraphale, but he can't stop himself. The two navigate their new friendship and budding romance while addressing past hurts.

Out of Suffering Into Love by Slow_Burn_Sally (E)

Aziraphale is a sexually repressed man who grew up in a religious household. Crowley is an artist with a sordid past. Both of them are afraid to love and be loved.

Hired Heart by GayDemonicDisaster (E)

As a result of his sheltered upbringing, Aziraphale made it to 50 without exploring his sexuality or coming out. After 50, all that changed - he's gay, he's out, and wants to find love. He also wants to have sex. He's a tad nervous about that. His friend Agnes suggests he consult a professional and get some no-strings practice and advice, and build some confidence. And her friend Tracy runs an agency… Crowley has quite the breadth of sexual experience: he’s a high class escort. He’s been in his line of work for a long time, though in this industry, that’s not exactly an advantage. He likes his work, but the more he’s reminded that he’s not as young as he once was, the more he contemplates his exit strategy. When his bookings manager and friend Tracy gives him a new, nervous client, Crowley finds him unexpectedly captivating. In fact, Crowley can’t seem to get him out of his head. A Smitten Crowley is also a very silly Crowley, so prepare for giggles and fluff along with your love story and smut... This fic is sex worker positive, disability positive, & a variety of genders and sexual preferences are referred to in back story.

- Mod D

[f0ul-f13nd]

A Social Construct Ch 13: an enviable proposition

Heavy eyelids stuttering open, Crowley stumbles from oblivion into wakefulness and disorientation.

Last night, his past and his present, orbiting one another like binary stars, had finally succumbed to their mutual gravity and crashed violently together, reorienting the centre of his universe. Now he’s unmoored, the fabric of spacetime bent around him like the tartan duvet tangled around his shins.

Where is he? What time is it?

His internal clock insists it’s late morning, but the light is all wrong. Where’s the harsh sun that slants through his cheap plastic blinds? This strange room is dim, dust motes dancing through the filtered glow from the heavy drapes.

Why is this mattress so – so soft? The feather pillow beneath his head carries a hint of vanilla and bergamot, of tea and old paper.  

Oh. Aziraphale.  read more here

[gaymingintrovert]

I hate Muriel being infantilized I hope they get to say fuck in season three

[thereallovebug]

How in the world did they do this dialogue with a straight face? And what assumptions are we to make from it? 😆

Good Omens | 2.04 The Hitchhiker

[absentfather]

I just like to imagine that Aziraphale had many human friends, one's that would visit the bookstore and cared for the kind book store owner. So when Mr Fell disappeared and someone new, more inexperienced, took his place, the humans were quite confused.

But after talks to the new owner, Muriel, Mr Fell's human friends come to the conclusion that he's passed away as Muriel keeps telling people that he's in heaven now.

And their theory is seemingly confirmed when Mr Fell's partner with the dark glasses would weekly show up, look at the bookstore with a sour, sorrowful expression, before leaving and repeating.

They felt pity and the 'death' of Mr Fell was an event which left a hole in many hearts of the London people.

[laurashapiro-noreally]

Looking for something to read?

Oh look, it's another recs post! This time I'm featuring two stories per author. These are writers I always make time for, whose work stands out as unusually hot, clever, funny, or smart -- sometimes all of the above.

I'm gonna start you out strong with two by @werpiper: After Hours takes Aziraphale and Crowley to the baths after their oyster supper, and all sorts of interesting pleasures are there for our angel to sample. Piper's Crowley is one of my favorites: always evaluating the situation, not quite aware of what his own heart is doing but feeling it anyway.

Fitting In is a new story, still a WIP, but I am utterly tantalized by Muriel's first taste of love -- and tea. This is already rich in detail, soft and fragrant, and I can hardly wait for the action to get going in earnest. The pairing seems surprising but when you think about it for ten seconds of course it makes sense. Sex workers help the curious, the awkward, and the inexperienced every day, bless them.

If you enjoy these, check out @werpiper's back catalog -- they have done a ton of ineffables-through-the-ages, and their series Miracles and Heresy is worth many delightful hours of your time.

I love what @copperplatebeech has been doing lately:

He's Not My Friend is a T-rated story that explores Aziraphale's constant refusal to acknowledge his relationship with Crowley, and Crowley's mirror of that, and how things glacially shift over time. It is subtle and yet specific, it will make you ache and smile.

All Of The Above, also T-rated, is a warm and fuzzy alternative to that, a hilarious celebration of true friendship that made me laugh out loud and still got me right in the feels.

@copperplatebeech can do everything, from quiet, gentle, and romantic to devastating plotty AUs to extraordinarily horny established relationship to absolutely ridiculous humor. Do dive in if you haven't already.

Next up, @cumaeansibyl, master of kink:

better living through technology manages to shove everything I want in a dirty story into less than three thousand words: uptight Aziraphale reduced to sodden wreck, Crowley gleefully showing him what he's been missing, character-driven erotics, and exceptionally funny dialogue.

indulgentiam peccatorum nostrorum is somehow all that and more, turning the "I was wrong" dance into a kink (something I can't get enough of, recs welcome). This one is post-Bastille so it is extra-juicy. Mind the tags!

@cumaeansibyl has a gift for established relationship one-shots, which readers of mine will know are my entire jam. They also have a mind-meltingly hot inverse!omens AU that features different variations of angelic/demonic Crowleys and Aziraphales for our ineffables to play with.

A new-to-me author, Calico, has me hanging by a thread with their Ineffable Romans series. If you want to remember that your ineffables aren't human, that they are inordinately clever but very stupid, that the feelings they have for each other are truly beyond what anyone alive has ever felt, Calico may be the writer for you. This stuff is deep. Also hot af.

Sub Rosa reads like a nasty shag at Petronius', but there's so much more going on here. It is Extremely Queer, driven by power dynamics, and Crowley is fully demonic here and absolutely in control...or is he?

The Intemperance of Liber Pater continues on this theme, with dialogue-driven smut that reads less like a seduction than an inevitability. There's another story in this series, unfinished, and I can't wait to see what happens next.

Last but not least: two short pieces by @ineffabildaddy. I stumbled on their stories just this week and I absolutely love their approach, which I've not seen done quite this way before.

take me as your wife has a tight first-person perspective as Crowley meets Aziraphale for a meal and imagines (or is it his imagination?) that Aziraphale is suggesting Certain Things about how they might occupy themselves later. Indeed, is he suggesting even more? Something about their relationship? Or is it all in Crowley's head?

Only in Dreams is kind of a companion piece, from Aziraphale's point of view -- though hundreds of years later. This one's set after the events of S2 and although just as romantic as take me as your wife, it also offers an ineffable take on the ol' glory hole concept. Just in case you thought I was getting soft. 😏

@ineffabildaddy has a whole series of poems and ficlets like these and I can't wait to explore them all.

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: litany in which certain things are crossed out

A beaten-down Aziraphale opens a bakery in the small town of Tadfield, where he finds an all-night greasy spoon and one fallen Crowley, who is making amends through various and increasingly ridiculous means of community service. Features an inexperienced!Aziraphale, Crowley the town ne’er-do-well, and Crowley’s self-appointed protector, young Adam. 

Length: 30,909 Words

AO3 Rating: Explicit/ Spice Level 🔥🔥

Best for: Safe in Public, Human AU, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

Triggers: None/Read Author's Notes

Read it here, fic by Ayes

*Minor Spoilers* I get overwhelmed sometimes when I stop to think about the fact that even after reading hundreds of fics of these two characters, it is still magic to me. How they slot together, how they mend each other's jagged edges, how they are meant to be. It's just beautiful and no media has ever come close to what this pairing does for me, and this fic was the perfect reminder of that fact.

Aziraphale has just moved to Tadfield to open a bakery, hoping for an escape from a life that has been nothing but guilt, repression, and shame. In town, he meets the wildfire that is Crowley. Fallen from grace, Crowley spends his days doing community service as his penance. Both runaways looking for a fresh start, who discover a home in each other. This work really captures them beautifully, so true to their roots but with a powerful take of it's own. It's soft, domestic, the most beautiful fantasy of finding someone who you just fit with.

The love story between the pair is the star of the show, but the rest of the cast are outstanding as well. I love spending time in Tracy and Shadwell's pub, and Adam was the perfect way to round out their family. And I can't forget to mention good girl, Lucy, our lovely dog friend who always made me smile. I would read a million words of this story, I want to know everything about this town and it's residents. I want to watch lazy days in the bakery, and sit at their table at dinner time. And what I also really really want is to live in Crowley's greenhouse. It sounds perfect! So beautiful and cozy, I want to lay in bed while it rains with Golden Girls in the background. The landscape and buildings here were rich characters of their own.

Simply put, this fic is gorgeous. Going by the notes, it looks like this was actually written in 2017 (book omens), taken down, and then reuploaded this year. Thank someone it's back up because I needed to read this one. There's a short, non explicit scene, but you'll be fine in public if you wish. Though, I think this one is best suited to home or at least a nice quiet and contemplative space.

Read it here, fic by Ayes

[somehow-a-human]

Good Omens & Visual Tarot - Part 1

I have been fiddling with a few different posts that are going to take a while longer still to complete. In the meantime I decided to do a little bit of a Good Omens Tarot visual analysis.

*Disclaimer* I am not a tarot expert, I am using visuals simply to equate these scenes to the Rider-Waite Tarot deck. Most of the limited meaning and analysis have been pulled from various tarot websites.

I hope you enjoy looking through these! They are not super deep or intensive but were very fun to put together :) They are ordered first by Major Arcana, then Minor Arcana, and finally Court Cards.

THE FOOL

The Fool represents the willingness to take risks, being inexperienced, improvisation and beginners luck. Aziraphale and the 1941 magic debacle are very fitting for the fool card. He doesn't know he's just endangered Crowley in front of Hell, doesn't know about the miracle blocker, and what they are about to face. Teetering dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. Yet, they've just somehow successfully escaped the stage unscathed.

----

THE MAGICIAN

The Magician represents one's potential, and capability to harness one's potential, especially in a situation where transformation is needed. It brings to mind the change that's needed in Heaven, the work Aziraphale needs to do to fix a broken system.

----

THE EMPEROR

The Emperor sits on a throne, flanked by dual rams heads. This card represents leadership, power, authority, courage, and intelligence. The Emperor is considered to be someone who is very powerful. Crowley's powers and past angelic identity are still somewhat of a mystery to us, and we have good reason to believe he was indeed a powerful figure. Could this be foreshadowing as well?

----

THE LOVERS

While The Lovers in modern decks often has a romantic reading, traditionally this card represented a crossroads in a relationship. Choices between life paths, and commitment. Aziraphale and Crowley choosing their side at the end of season one reflects this crossroads and decision very well.

----

THE CHARIOT

The Chariot represents overcoming conflict and moving forward, but the charioteer is warned to be wary of the way ahead. Crowley rushing back to Aziraphale after the Book of Life threat is ready to move past their earlier conflict and move forward. But danger might lie ahead.

----

THE HERMIT

The Hermit represents the ability to recognize a 'teacher in a humble disguise', wisdom and enlightenment. Though it takes Aziraphale millenia, I think he eventually does recognize Crowley is a teacher or a guide in disguise for him, helping him sort through the abyss of human morality.

----

THE WHEEL OF (MIS)FORTUNE

The Wheel of Fortune card reminds us that life is ever changing and moving, we cannot stand on top of the wheel indefinitely, where we think we finally may see and understand things clearly, it will always turn. Looking at the Good Omens Wheel of Misfortune, it has interesting items like "going abroad" - a nod to season 3 possibly being set at least somewhat in New York?

----

THE TOWER

The Tower represents disaster, distress, and upheaval. There is an unforeseen catastrophe that will need to be weathered. I believe Aziraphale's emotional journey in the Job minisode exemplifies this perfectly. His realization that he has reached a turning point in his beliefs, his willingness to fall to save Jobs children and defy the Almighty... The path going forward will be difficult.

----

PART 2 (coming soon)

[black-bentley-niatruc]

Fic

Title: The Mind-Body Problem [part 2/3]

[A bonus smutty thing happening between chapters 20 and 21 of my main Human AU fic]

Fandom: Good Omens

Category: M/M

Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: filthy smut, check below for any squeaks/no-no's

Additional tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot; touch-starved; Crowley has a praise kink; inexperienced Crowley; experienced Aziraphale (kind of); fluff; first time; first time topping; first time things; chest-fucking; Aziraphale is a Pillow Princess; Crowley is a tease; Aziraphale has an oral fixation; angst (thanks, Crowley!); barebacking; butt plugs; anal sex; low-key D/s vibes, but not a 'proper' D/s setting; rough sex; safe, sane and consensual; kinky; more angst (thanks, Aziraphale!); face-fucking; Aziraphale is a mess; coming untouched; virginity kink; Aziraphale is a tease; first time bottoming

Words: 3575

Originally published: 2024-05-28

Summary

“I know we were meant to go on more dates, but could we spend the whole weekend here?” Crowley asks nonchalantly.

Aziraphale makes a sound of amusement, a little breath against Crowley’s skin. “Just say it.”

“What?”

“I know what you want. Ask.”

Crowley shudders at the stern tone and Aziraphale hides a smile against the back of his own hand.

“Marathon sex.”

Human AU, Crowley and Aziraphale try new things in their relationship That's it, that's the fic; can be read as a standalone

A relevant note: Crowley's Chinese zodiac sign in the main fic is a Snake 🐍 and Aziraphale's is a Dragon 🐉

Aziraphale feels so good – each cell of his body seemingly swelled with contentment and love – that he laughs softly at the all in all cruel joke. Not that he believes Crowley meant to hurt with those two words.

Attempting to return the frantic kisses, but too slow (or is it Crowley who always goes too fast for him?) Aziraphale tries to ignore the feelings catching in his throat and to cut them at their stems before they grow into something impossible to deny.

“Marry me, angel.”

Belatedly, he feels the smile disappear from his face, not quite in control of his expression, as he searches Crowley’s eyes, focused intently on his own.

They speak of something mischievous, yes, but only on the surface, pretending to be playful, but deeper still, there are things too soft and fragile, telling him how serious Crowley is – and how can soft and fragile things cut so viciously?

“Ask me again once we’re thinking clearly,” says Aziraphale as lightly as possible, instead of what he wants to say, burying the ‘Yes’ deep in his heart and cupping Crowley’s face in his hands.

“I’m thinking clearly,” Crowley insists. “Never thought clearer in my life.”

Something twists painfully in Aziraphale’s chest. He cannot let Crowley promise what he might regret in the future. The higher they fly, the more disastrous the fall. But, if they pretend not to be connected by the invisible line that Aziraphale felt the moment they met for the first time, then perhaps nothing and no-one can break it.

“Well, I’m not.”

The disappointment and hurt in Crowley’s eyes is almost unbearable, but he makes himself withstand the wounded stare.

“Okay,” says Crowley, looking away, getting back to his guarded self.

Breathing slowly out in relief, Aziraphale cuddles up to him, face pressed against his chest, dark red hairs tickling his cheek.

He closes his eyes, physically exhausted by the intense orgasm and emotionally torn to shreds by everything he doesn’t know how to deal with. How is it that Crowley goes on and on about the complexity of the world, yet, somehow, he operates in it as if everything were simple? Why does it feel like Aziraphale is walking in circles, one moment thinking he’s found his answers only to be thrown back to square one to start anew in the next?

“I hope the plug was unreasonably expensive and you paid with your card, so that your parents could see that,” Crowley mutters, causing Aziraphale to giggle hysterically.

“It was obscenely expensive and if they’re still checking what I’m buying, it’s entirely their own fault,” he admits.

“I’m so glad I signed up for the philosophy course.”

“Me too. Though, actually, we had no choice, it’s mandatory for our programme.”

“I know we were meant to go on more dates, but could we spend the whole weekend here?” Crowley asks nonchalantly.

Aziraphale makes a sound of amusement, a little breath against Crowley’s skin. “Just say it.”

“What?”

“I know what you want. Ask.”

Crowley shudders at the stern tone and Aziraphale hides a smile against the back of his own hand.

“Marathon sex.”

“There. Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Shut up.”

“About that,” Aziraphale says, wriggling in sudden excitement and nervousness. “There’s something I’d like you to... do to me.”

It’s Crowley’s turn to tease. “Oohh, I bet there is.”

“Nothing too complicated, really,” Aziraphale rushes to explain. “But of course―”

“Angel, if you don’t tell me what you mean, how can I tell you whether I want it?” Crowley huffs in irritation, stroking his hand down Aziraphale’s side.

Heat crawling up his neck and cheeks, Aziraphale presses his hand against his eyes in embarrassment.

“What you did today, except... my throat, and, slower,” he manages, not that fluent in dirty talk when he isn’t on edge or already aroused.

He can tell Crowley’s grinning when he asks, “Want me to shut you up with my cock? Love it.”

Aziraphale chuckles, still nervous despite Crowley’s explicit approval. “I like it rough,” he adds.

“’Course you do,” is Crowley’s reply and suddenly the warmth of his body disappears.

“Where are you going?” Aziraphale blurts out, hating the obvious clinginess behind his reaction.

“To wash my dick before I put it in your mouth!” Crowley calls back, the crude phrasing and nonchalance in his tone causing Aziraphale’s cheeks to burn.

Oh.

Aziraphale didn’t expect Crowley to immediately implement his plan as if he were only waiting for a request of any kind. Not that he’s going to complain.

By the time Crowley comes back, Aziraphale is sitting on his heels next to the bed and shivering slightly from anticipation and the cool air caressing his naked skin.

“Wow,” says Crowley as soon as his eyes land on him. “The only thing missing is a collar around your neck.”

There is a lilt to this statement, a hidden question.

Would Aziraphale allow Crowley to put a collar on him?

“I’ll be sure to add it to my next shopping list,” he assures with a smile, watching the Adam’s apple in Crowley’s throat bob as he swallows, hard.

“Can’t wait,” Crowley breathes, stepping close, lazily stroking a hand over his erection.

Aziraphale licks his lips, leaning in to take the cock into his mouth, but Crowley doesn’t let him, cupping his palm over the flared head.

Shooting him an offended look, Aziraphale can’t keep the pout off his face.

“You’ll only take what I give you, and nothing more, you greedy cherub,” says Crowley with a mean grin.

The fiend.

Huffing through his nose, Aziraphale presses his lips together. If Crowley thinks he’s going to beg for it, then he’s got another thing coming.

A temptingly hot cockhead brushes against Aziraphale’s lips. “Open up.”

He makes sure Crowley can see him glaring defiantly. A bead of clear precome oozes from the slit, glinting tantalisingly, and Aziraphale curls his hands into fists, where they rest against his thighs. A trickle of Crowley’s seed leaks out of him in that moment and he gasps at the unfamiliar but somehow deeply arousing feeling.

The lapse in his concentration doesn’t escape Crowley’s notice. “You okay there?” he asks, his concern evident and so very sweet.

There goes all of Aziraphale’s resolve. Nodding once, he opens his mouth expectantly, pushing his tongue out just enough so that the tip is visible over his lower lip. With a sigh, Crowley presses his cockhead against the flat of Aziraphale’s tongue, rubbing gently against it with slow, shallow thrusts.

Mouth watering, Aziraphale swallows quickly. He probably should have warned it might get really messy, bordering on disgusting, at least for some people. He’s in no position to talk, now, though. He wishes Crowley would start fucking his throat already. He’d like to close his lips around him. He’d love to suck his cock.

Instead, he allows Crowley to tease him mercilessly, more precome spreading over his tongue as he waits patiently, breathing faster every time Crowley dives deeper into his mouth only to draw back again.

He moans softly when the warm cockhead hits his soft palate. Crowley groans in response, hand curling in Aziraphale’s hair, eliciting an appreciative whine, the vibrations hopefully pleasant.

“You really want me to be rough?” Crowley asks, the uncertainty and concern in his voice endearing to Aziraphale’s ears.

In response, Aziraphale grasps his hips firmly and groans around the cock in his mouth.

It seems to be enough seeing as Crowley slams into his throat without any further warnings. Tears of pain prick at the corners of Aziraphale’s eyes and he moans again, making sure to wrap his lips around his teeth – a somewhat tricky thing he never needed to learn (but he did, anyway; he doesn’t like doing things by halves).

Crowley’s so good to him – as slow and brutal as Aziraphale dreamed. His throat burns. He can’t stop moaning and squirming. His cock aches, but he keeps his hands around Crowley’s hips, digging his nails in whenever he needs to breathe. His chin is wet with spit and he revels in the undignified feeling.

He comes untouched, spilling messily over his belly and thighs, moaning loudly, tears running down his hot cheeks.

“Fuck, angel,” Crowley whines above him. “Can I come on your face?”

Normally, Aziraphale believes refractory periods to be nature’s unnecessary joke, the kind that nobody gets, but in this moment he’s grateful he physically can’t get hard again, because he’s sure he would come immediately, either at Crowley’s question or the moment his hot seed paints his cheek and nose and lips – and another orgasm like this would probably kill him.

Staring up at Crowley, Aziraphale distractedly wipes at his own wet chin with the back of his hand.

“A moment,” says Crowley, sitting at the edge of his bed, breathing hard. “I’ll bring some water― Just.”

Aziraphale understands what he means. He feels uncomfortably sticky with – he counts quickly – four...? – loads of come and just as uncomfortably slippery with lubricant, and he’d love to take a hot shower and yes, a glass of water does sound nice, but most of all he wants to cuddle with Crowley and fall asleep together in bed that’s been getting progressively filthier as well.

However, he is not that spoiled and Crowley has been so good to him, so he volunteers to bring the water and wanders to the kitchen, lightheaded from the oxygen deprivation and dazed from everything else.

He finds the glasses (and a paper towel to wipe his face relatively clean) and takes two bottles of water from the fridge. There is something domestic about it that he doesn’t want to dwell on, but his mind latches onto the feeling. So many day-to-day things they could do...

Crowley drinks his water straight from the bottle and Aziraphale smiles privately because he expected that.

“You should see yourself,” says Crowley, eyes raking over his entire body hungrily as Aziraphale takes his water in small sips, his abused throat hurting with every swallow. “You look like sin.”

“And all you want to do is sin?” Aziraphale prompts, laughing at his own terrible joke.

“That’s about right!” Crowley agrees, laughing with him even as he rolls his eyes.

“Well, I am in desperate need of a shower, I suppose, but...” Aziraphale sighs, shaking his head, tired.

“...meh,” Crowley finishes his thought. “I’m thinking: some sleep and then shower, but we do something worth getting out of bed there.”

When Aziraphale gets all wrapped in Crowley’s long limbs, he thinks – not for the first time – that there really is something snake-like about him and that he’s going to need some serious motivation to leave the bed, which is new to him, seeing that he’s not a fan of sleep. Crowley is, though, and the way he cuddles against Aziraphale to absorb his warmth and drifts off easily is a surprisingly soothing experience.

As it turns out, not even two hours later, all the motivation Aziraphale needs to leave the bed and shower is the prospect of a hot shower itself. Crowley joins him, complaining the entire way, until the steaming water hits his skin and the grumbling noises switch into ones indicating deep appreciation. In the meantime, Aziraphale re-appreciates Crowley’s body with his hands and mouth.

He insists they decide on sort of safe words to use when either needs to stop completely or just a little break for whatever reasons (because Crowley’s concerned check-ins are too sweet and too disarming, but he doesn’t tell him that) and Crowley chooses Plato and orange respectively, explaining that ‘Berkeley is too long’ when Aziraphale raises his eyebrow at him.

“Now that we’re properly cleaned,” Crowley begins, shivering with cold as he throws an oversized, black band T-shirt at Aziraphale and pulls a similar piece of clothing over his own head, “I want you to top me.”

Torn between amusement at the phrasing and the thrill of wearing something that belongs to Crowley, no matter how distant it is from his usual style, Aziraphale touches one of the sleeves affectionately with a smile and a short, “Alright, yes.”

Gosh, he hopes that didn’t sound too eager.

“Listen, I―” Crowley breaks off. “Wait, I expected I’d have to do more convincing.”

“Oh, do you want me to say no, so that you can ‘convince’ me?” Aziraphale offers, only half-jokingly.

“No, I don’t want any more coddling.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, it’s― what?! Okay!”

Still, Aziraphale sits on the bed with his back against the wall and insists that Crowley straddle him, at least for his first time, so that he can control the depth and tempo, discover what he likes best without interference from Aziraphale’s personal preferences.

“You just want me to do all the work,” Crowley accuses, gesturing around with the bottle of lubricant, but he settles in Aziraphale’s lap with a feverish look on his face – beautiful eyes glassy, cheeks flushed delicious red.

“Oh, no, you have discovered my diabolical plan,” Aziraphale mocks, good-natured, trying to convince his mind that the fact he’s the first one to do all those things with Crowley is not that arousing. His mind is of a different opinion, however.

Crowley hands him the purple bottle. “More like, the depths of your laziness,” he growls, sounding angry, but Aziraphale can tell he’s being hissy as a principle. “At least prepare me,” he demands.

“With pleasure,” says Aziraphale, already warming the viscous fluid with his fingers.

A soft sound falls from Crowley’s lips before he tilts Aziraphale’s head up and bows down to kiss him hungrily.

With his clean hand splayed over Crowley’s chest – he thinks he might be a little obsessed with the feeling of Crowley’s heartbeat against his skin – he reaches around the lithe body in his lap, slick fingers exploring unhurriedly between the firm cheeks.

When his fingertip catches against the tight little hole, Crowley breaks the kiss with a groan and curses, thighs tensing. He doesn’t use any of the words they agreed on, so Aziraphale presses gently against the furled tissue, licking his lips as Crowley lowers his hips greedily, attempting to take in Aziraphale’s finger, but failing due to Aziraphale withdrawing his hand just enough.

“Angel,” Crowley complains, giving him a look so betrayed it would look comical, if his eagerness weren’t so arousing.

Aziraphale gives in and feels the inviting warmth of Crowley’s body around the tip of his finger, his thoughts circling insistently around the fact that no-one has ever touched Crowley so intimately, and oh, Aziraphale can’t wait to bury himself to the hilt inside this heat― don’t dragons like virgins?

“Hhnngghh,” says Crowley and Aziraphale cannot help but agree as he presses in, slowly, but without a pause, until his whole finger disappears inside. He curls it, searching, until Crowley makes a prolonged sound, something between a sigh and a moan, a string of clear fluid oozing out of his cock at the new stimulation, leaving dark stains on his T-shirt.

It would seem they forgot to take these off.

Aziraphale stares at the precome that keeps leaking from the slit wishing he could lick Crowley’s cock clean and keep licking it until Crowley’s utterly spent. Perhaps another time.

Leaving the gland alone for now, Aziraphale moves his finger in a more thrusting manner until Crowley gasps, hips twitching for a while in little, abortive jerks, and then he’s suddenly fucking himself on Aziraphale’s finger, groaning, curling his hands around Aziraphale’s shoulders.

“Well? Do you feel prepared?” Aziraphale prompts gently.

“Ah!” Crowley looks down between them, eyeing Aziraphale’s cock doubtfully. “Are you sure about stretching with three fingers being a myth?” he asks cautiously.

Huffing a breathless laugh, Aziraphale kisses him, lips soft and tender, holding his head still by the jaw delicately, as he withdraws his finger and immediately comes back with two, swallowing Crowley’s groan.

Not giving him much time to process what’s going on, he adds the third finger to prove his point, feeling Crowley’s entire body tense and then immediately melt against him.

“How about now?” he asks, letting their lips part.

“Fuck,” says Crowley, panting and squirming. There’s a drop of sweat running down the side of his throat and Aziraphale leans up to catch it with his lips. “Someone’s eager,” Crowley adds, his voice a little too weak for the full teasing effect.

“You have no idea,” Aziraphale admits, looking into his eyes.

“Ngk.” Crowley avoids his gaze as if it burns him. “You really are a slut,” he mutters, taking hold of Aziraphale’s cock and sliding off of his fingers.

The words sting for the briefest moment, but Aziraphale remembers that Crowley tends to say all kinds of things when he’s overwhelmed, so maybe he doesn’t really mean it.

“I’m your slut,” he replies with a playful smile to see if he manages to lighten the mood.

It has the opposite effect, it would seem, as Crowley’s eyes shoot back to his face to stare at him, his lips slightly parted.

“I think your true diabolical plan is to kill me.”

“We shall find out by Monday.”

At this, Crowley grins at him, and then his features sharpen in concentration as he raises on his knees, apparently ready for the next part.

“Crowley, dear, wait,” says Aziraphale, alarmed, searching for the bottle of lubricant with one hand and holding Crowley gently by the hip with the other.

“Yes, I know,” Crowley hisses impatiently, pretending he didn’t forget about slicking Aziraphale’s cock.

Definitely not in a mood to argue about who knows what, Aziraphale completes this task himself without a comment. Crowley doesn’t talk either as he finally sinks down onto Aziraphale’s cock, torturously slow and with maddening breaks, really, who’s trying to kill whom, again?

People often assume that Aziraphale has poor self-control, probably something to do with his admittedly hedonistic lifestyle. Generally speaking, he agrees. But he thinks he’s perfectly capable of reining himself in, perhaps with two exceptions – being pushed to his very limits and choosing to surrender his control if he feels safe doing so (he already did that with Crowley).

Focusing on his breathing and watching Crowley’s face for any signs of discomfort, he keeps as still as possible and allows him to move, and what moves they are―

Breathing deeply, admiring the view, staving off his orgasm, teasing Crowley’s nipples and cock – all within his capability.

“Fuck me,” Crowley groans, throwing his head back.

Aziraphale’s eyes wander along the lines of his white, exposed throat. He isn’t entirely sure if Crowley’s words were a request or just a figure of speech, but he decides there’s no harm in trying to find out, so he rocks up into Crowley with measured thrusts, unerringly hitting the prostate once they discover the perfect angle together, and is endlessly happy to hear Crowley – right above his head – spilling absolute filth with his tongue, and then swearing and calling out until he’s finally reduced to broken cries and whimpers.

Aziraphale feels him come, the muscles pulsing around his cock giving away Crowley’s uncharacteristically silent orgasm. He groans, fucking him through it gently, but eventually he has to help Crowley pull off, knowing that further stimulation would be unpleasant to him.

Crowley is boneless and sluggish in his arms and looks at him with such dazed, sex-stupid eyes that Aziraphale can’t help grinning just a tad smugly.

“Shut up,” Crowley mumbles as soon as he’s able to do more than panting.

Aziraphale obediently doesn’t talk, instead leaning up to kiss and lick at Crowley’s neck.

“Next time, I don’t want you to hold back,” says Crowley, touching Aziraphale’s face with a hand covered in streaks of semen.

“You really enjoy ‘marking’ me,” Aziraphale observes, sending him a knowing smile, still somewhat smug.

Crowley blinks at him until he seems to notice what he’s doing, and he bites his lip, as if caught. “Yes,” he admits, following that with a choked sound and resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, his other hand reaching between them to caress Aziraphale’s cock with slow strokes.

Moaning softly, Aziraphale presses his face into Crowley’s hair, still wet from the shower, eyes closed.

“What’s in your basket?” Crowley asks and there is an edge to his voice, like he’s suddenly suspicious.

Aziraphale concentrates on the meaning behind words with difficulty. “Wine. Some cheese. Spare clothes, though it looks like I’m not going to need them.”

“Right.” Crowley grins, pointing at his own T-shirt, which belongs in the washing machine, and offers his come-stained fingers for Aziraphale to lick clean, which he sets to with a pleased sigh. “I think we could just spend those two days in the shower, really. Would save us time.”

Aziraphale makes an amused sound at the idea but is also delighted by the thought they still have almost two days of this. His throat throbs painfully, reminding him how exquisitely Crowley fucked it.

Mere minutes later he climaxes, moaning around the long fingers in his mouth.

[mrscakeishere]

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Beta Reviews!

"I can't stop laughing!" "Hot hot hot!!!" "That poor electrical socket looks positively scandalized!"

Polycakes (Me and Polychrome, aka @polychromicron-persei-8) hurled another fanfic grenade into the @goodomensafterdark Smut War with Sensors and Sensibility (rated Explicit, CW: semi-public sex, anal sex). Read on for summary and excerpt!

Sensors and Sensibility

Despite Crowley shooting a little too fast and furious, he and Aziraphale have had a steamy first year.

Soho, on the other hand, is miserable.

Turns out, paranormal coitus has the uncanny ability to interfere with the Internet of Things, playing havoc with smart things throughout the neighbourhood.

In an attempt to solve the “celestial sex problem,” Nina floats the idea of a romantic dinner somewhere far away, selling it as the ideal remedy to boost Crowley’s mojo.

The question is, will some delayed gratification improve their sex lives—and can they keep it in their pants long enough to find out?

Excerpt:

For creatures who had been alive since the beginning of time, Aziraphale and Crowley were embarrassingly inexperienced when it came to sex. Sure, they had seen it—you couldn’t go anywhere during those first seven days on Earth without witnessing Adam and Eve sticking something in one hole or another—but neither angel nor demon had ever partaken in such activities until after the Second Coming.1 As well-established virgins,2 everything was exciting and new; every intimate moment was the best sex that they had ever had.3

Of course, to the well-trained eye, much of what Aziraphale and Crowley engaged in was relatively vanilla, consisting of mundane positions, erratic pacing, flailing limbs, and a higher than usual—but not completely unhealthy—frequency of premature ejaculation.

Regardless of partaking in the sort of lovemaking that would disappoint a beginner voyeur, Aziraphale and Crowley felt satiated. In fact, they were so wrapped up in the thrill of their newfound sex lives and their steamy honeymoon period that they had spent an entire year engaging in sex and very little else.

This had not gone unnoticed by the neighbours.

This was not entirely true. Aziraphale actually had one experience getting his willy sucked while attending Portland Place. He had never had the heart to tell Crowley though, who had taken great pride in believing that he had been Aziraphale’s first time.

Well, Crowley was a virgin.

Even though it was, for the most part, the only sex they had ever had.

Continue reading on Ao3 for Crowley and Aziraphale's coffee needs, romantic dinner date, and the impact of their sexual congress on smart and automated things.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello, hello, First of all, thank you so much for your work! Your library has helped to find so many awesome fics! :D There is just one question/fic idea I haven't found yet, even though I am sure something similar has been done before: Do you know any fics where Aziraphale and Crowley have sex, not (only) because of desire, but simply because humans make it look like fun and they're curious, want to try it out and they do it with each other because it seems like, idk, the most logical thing to do, or because they're already in love or something? Again, thank you for your service and have a nice day! :)

Hi and you're welcome! You may be interested in our #inexperienced aziraphale and #inexperienced crowley tags for similar fics to this. Here are some when one or both are curious about the human experience of sex...

A Little While Longer by IneffableToreshi (E)

In the Garden of Eden, a demon fell hard for an angel. Later, the angel is upset, and the demon thinks he knows a way to cheer him up...

When a Demon and an Angel Make Love, They Forget They Aren't Human by boredom (E)

Aziraphale has realized that with Heaven no longer controlling his every move, he's now free to do what he wants. And he wants to do Crowley.

Crowley, of course, is ecstatic and more than willing to fuck Aziraphale into the bed. Perhaps they shouldn't have forgotten they're not human, which means human structures may not be strong enough to support them.

Earthly Pleasures by AstroGirl (E)

Aziraphale has always thought that human sex looks like a great deal of fun. Perhaps now it's something he and Crowley can enjoy together.

Five Times They Weren't Very Sexy and One Time They Aced It by ZehWulf (E)

“Have you ever wondered what it feels like?” Crowley asks while contemplating the dregs at the bottom of his wine glass. He’s aiming for philosophical but fears the faint wheeze at the end of the question might have given him away.

“Have I ever wondered what ‘what’ feels like,” Aziraphale asks finally.

“Sex,” he says, much louder than intended or reasonable. They both wince. 

“Oh, have you never…?” Aziraphale asks with polite disbelief.

“You have?” Crowley demands.

Look, when you're largely inexperienced sex-favorable asexual ineffables, it takes a bit of practice, a lot of communication, and some bull-headed persistence to get your sex life in commendable working order. Or, five times things got (hilariously) awkward during sex, and one time after they've got it mostly figured out. A companion fic to "Scratching That Itch." (Sex acts, such as they are, tagged per chapter in chapter notes!)

The ducks and the bees by Yoite (E)

"Um", the angel cleared his throat. "Well, as we know, when humans like each other, sometimes, they, er, give each other a.. special hug."

"Are you asking me to sleep with you?"

Aziraphale wants to investigate what this whole sex malarkey is all about, but nothing goes according to plan.

Chemistry by Twilightcitysky (E) (WIP)

Aziraphale and Crowley have been living among humans for 6000 years, but there have always been parts of the human experience they've chosen to avoid (like allergies, head colds, and having to use the loo).

They've also never let hormones get in the way of making rational decisions, because they didn't have any hormones to speak of.

That's all about to change.

- Mod D

[topaziraphale]

Goddd. What happens if we get another kiss in S3? What if there's more than one?? What if their next kiss is such a messy, inexperienced, but otherwise passionate one again, but this time it's Aziraphale initiating it? What if there's a timeskip at the end and it's them living in the South Downs and there's a gentle kiss done with such ease that shows how both of them are no strangers to human-like affection anymore? What if we get a dramatic hug during like, a high-stakes battle or something? The fact that the door is even open now to them even trying affection through physical touch leaves me flatlined. Like if they hug I will literally cease to exist.

[depraveddame]

Tempt, my omegaverse glory hole fic, is now posted!

It was inevitable, perhaps, that I’d dip my toes into omegaverse- I’m easily squicked by a lot of common omegaverse elements, so I’ve changed a lot of typical tropes in order to create more of what I have been referring to as my ‘hedonismverse’- a modern day omegaverse that's evolved as far as sex and pleasure with little to no emphasis on reproduction. No angst for once 😂 everyone is happy, healthy, and horny as fuck.

Some CWs: omegaverse, alpha Aziraphale, omega Crowley, D/s, glory hole, oral knotting, wet & messy, praise/degradation/humiliation, implied open relationships/non monogamy, scent kink, boot grinding - please read the rest of the tags on AO3 for more!

Excerpt:

His companion smells fucking divine— Crowley’s mouth waters like a slutty fountain as he breathes in deeply and takes in the fragrance of dark, sweet cocoa that’s spiked with cayenne pepper and something jammy on the end, like a lush, full bodied red wine of some sort, blackberries or currants crushed in a glass that’s been stained with the blood of its juice and doused in the tannic kiss of wine and chocolate. It’s all wrapped in the heady scent of want, it’s cloaked by the musky, smoky quality of alpha pheromones and the clear, overarching note of I’m going to ruin you, omega, and you’ll thank me for it.

And Crowley will— he most certainly, certainly will.

The shoes finally make their way to stand in front of the wall between them, and the open space beneath shows Crowley black leather and grey tartan tweed balmoral boots— they’re expensive and beautiful, undoubtedly bespoke, and his tongue itches with the desire to slide along the contour of their toes.

“I—” there’s a beat before the alpha continues, and the hesitation of an internal conflict registers in Crowley’s sensitive ears, “forgive me, I don’t wish to assume or offend, but I must ask— you’re here of your own volition, am I correct? You’re not being…coerced in any way, to be here, yes?”

Even his voice is delicious, Crowley thinks before he registers he’s being asked a question, and his brow furrows. He’d just been about to beg for this stranger to please get on with it and fuck his mouth, but the hint of nervousness that permeates the arousal in the room has him pausing— for the first time, he picks up on the smell of old, well worn leather, and maybe something earthy and woodsy— perhaps paper.

Books.

“First time at an upscale sex club?” Crowley asks loftily, a little incredulous. It would be very unlikely for someone inexperienced in the scene to be accepted for membership here, but it could happen, he supposes, with the right sway.

There’s a slight, huffy scoff that borders on irritated above him.

“First time at this particular establishment, yes,” the voice continues, and Crowley would categorize its tone as lightly irked as well as anxious, “and while things have improved exponentially within the last two decades or so for such things, I know you’re an omega, and while this business seems extremely reputable thus far, you’ll have to indulge a jaded old alpha who has seen far too many of your gender forced into similar situations they’d rather not be in.”

Crowley sits stunned for a few seconds, nonplussed, as he considers the alpha’s speech.

I hope you’ll enjoy this slutty and smutty fic!

@goodomensafterdark

[humbledragon669]

S1E3 – Hard Times Write Up P3 - Paris (1793) and St. James’s Park (1862)

Alright, first thing’s first for this scene. For those of you that haven’t seen the script, the translation of the executioner’s entrance speech is as follows:

Ah, the music of the blade, and the joy of the people. Beautiful, no? Now, let us inspect your neck.

Alas, nothing of hidden meaning there. Something I did pick up on when I was watching this scene back is that just after the executioner’s (Jean-Claude) entrance, an execution takes place offscreen. It’s talked about, and we are informed that the victim here was female. In what seems to be a really dark bit of humour here, it actually sounds like this is a botched execution. The audio for this scene is below - you’ll need to listen carefully as the script continues over the background soundtrack, but to me it sounds like we hear the falling of the blade, followed by a female scream that does not stop when we hear the thump of the guillotine hitting its target.

Jean-Claude even laments over the poor work that the executioner does, and that Aziraphale is lucky that he will not be executed by the inexperienced knave. I have a pretty dark sense of humour, but even I feel like I would rather believe the screams we can hear are of a spectator, perhaps a loved one of the condemned, distressed at the scene. *shudder*

Moving on to something a bit lighter, we have a reminder of the noise we should be associating with Crowley’s time freeze miracles – that little wobble board noise played over the miracle whoosh (not to mention the underlying tingly sort of noise that can be heard throughout the scene as the time freeze stays in place). Just why Aziraphale doesn’t realise that Jean-Claude has frozen until Crowley actually speaks is a mystery to me. Too caught up in his own impending administrative perils perhaps. What is less mysterious is how the angel feels about Crowley’s unannounced arrival in his cell.

There’s no denying that Aziraphale is delighted that Crowley has appeared – that little smile is pure reflex and he all but breathes his name. I’m sure some people will read it as relief as his friend showing up just when he needs help, but I am not one of them. The painfully obvious once over that he gives Crowley tells us everything we need to know about Aziraphale’s true feelings here. And then there’s that “good Lord” line – it’s not the only time we hear somebody refer to Crowley in this way. It’s an interesting choice of words for sure and if it wasn’t for the way that the angel is drooling looking at Crowley, who I should point out hasn’t exactly positioned himself in what one might call a demure pose, I’d say that he was trying to sound disdainful.

We’re treated to the first (chronologically speaking) mention of the book shop in this scene. There are a couple of other sources that fill in some gaps for us on this front – Neil himself confirmed that Aziraphale bought the land for the shop in the 1630s and the Script Book contains a deleted scene that shows the book shop would be opened in 1800. Seeing as it’s a feature of the series that will become so integral, it’s nice that we’re given a bit of its backstory.

We’re also given a bit of insight to Aziraphale’s insatiable appetite for human food in this scene. Whilst we as the audience have already been given some context around this, it’s only now we see just how strong his attachment to food is. After all, he abandoned his book shop opening plans and travelled to Paris at the height of a revolution that targeted the aristocracy whilst dressed head-to-toe in finery just to get some crepes. Crowley’s expression of disbelief when he finds out that this foolish errand has been driven by pastry-lust feels as though it embodies the thought process of everyone bearing witness to this conversation:

Aziraphale doesn’t appear to think his actions are out of order though. What’s interesting is that his attention is engaged not by the dressing-down he’s receiving, but by Crowley’s use of a particular phrase:

There’s an incredibly subtle eyebrow raise at Crowley’s use of the word “nibble” – it comes a split second before he talks about Aziraphale’s choice of clothing. It’s a real blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, so I cut it and slowed it down a little to demonstrate:

As if the angel hadn’t given enough of a clue about how he’s feeling about Crowley’s presence. Honestly, he needs to tell his face to stop giving away his heart’s desires so obviously. Though I’m not sure how much of his heart is involved in that flirty little expression.

At this point we find out that Aziraphale has been reprimanded for performing too many frivolous miracles, to which Crowley responds that the angel is lucky he was in the area. This does raise an interesting question about Crowley always being around when Aziraphale most needs him.

There’s something quite knowing about this exchange – as if they know luck really didn’t have anything to do with it. I don’t think that they were in Paris together, or that Aziraphale even knew Crowley was in Paris - the bit of the conversation about the book shop opening and Crowley’s disbelief at the purpose of the trip is enough for me to believe Aziraphale genuinely didn’t know of the other’s proximity. I do however think that it’s unlikely this is the first time that Crowley has “conveniently” been in just the right place at the right time for Aziraphale, and that they both know there’s more at play than luck. My money’s on Crowley always knowing exactly where Aziraphale is, somehow managing to keep tabs on him in a non-creepy way, purely because he knows the angel has an uncanny knack for getting into trouble. For confirmation of his love of being Aziraphale’s knight in shining armour, see season 2, episode 5.

Right before we see the manacles miraculously fall off Aziraphale’s wrists, we can, if we’re really eagle-eyed, see another one of those micro-expressions that betray Aziraphale’s feelings. It’s off the back of Crowley’s indignant response that he has somehow been entirely responsible for the Reign of Terror currently occupying Paris. It’s minute, but it conveys so much to me – Aziraphale knows that Crowley isn’t really interested in causing anything so heinous and is basking in being reminded of that.

It’s worth noting the leagues of difference in Crowley’s reaction to being told “thank you for the rescue” and being called “nice” as we saw in episode 2. Here he simply (vehemently) tells the angel not to say “rescue”. No violence, no grabbing of lapels, no hissing in Aziraphale’s face. The words might be different, but the sentiment is most definitely the same, and yet the two reactions are light years apart. If I might be forgiven for referring to my own head canon for a moment, this actually makes sense. As a reminder, it’s my belief that Crowley and Aziraphale actually form a romantic relationship as of the day of Adam’s birth, some 200+ years in the future from Paris. This reaction we see from Crowley in the Bastille is a genuine and simple one, whereas (I believe) the wall slam at Tadfield Manor is the beginning of some sexual role play. It’s no wonder the two reactions are so different really. That said, I do not think Aziraphale isn’t playing some sort of role play game here – his insistence that he was unable to miracle himself out of the cell is rudely undermined when he performs a “frivolous miracle” just to change his clothes so that the two of them can go to lunch together. If Crowley’s preference for playing the hero was known to him, it suddenly makes sense why Aziraphale wouldn’t just miracle himself out of the cell, safe in the knowledge that Crowley would do it for him. He even defends his choice to miracle his own clothes to the demon, and it’s a pretty weak excuse.

I think it’s just a shame we don’t see Crowley’s face when he hears this, but what we do see is Aziraphale’s expression of resignation when he realises that he has to miracle his own change of clothes. It’s as if he knows the game has come to an end so now he has to stop the pretence of not being able to help himself. It’s charming really. What’s also interesting is that in switching clothes with Jean-Claude, he condemns the man to an almost instant death, yet he seems to have no qualms about the consequences of his actions in the slightest. He doesn’t even react to Crowley’s little dig that Jean-Claude was “asking for trouble” dressed in Aziraphale’s clothes.

The last exchange of this scene still delivers with subtext – it’s interesting that Crowley asks Aziraphale what’s for lunch whilst showing no preference whatsoever. He doesn’t even look affected when the angel declares joyfully that crepes are the first thing on his mind. Given that I believe Crowley to take much more pleasure in watching Aziraphale eat than eating himself, I think this question more likely means “what do I get to watch you eat for lunch?”. It’s a pleasant, light way to end this scene, which has had its fair share of dark humour squirreled away in its corners.

The first thing I noticed about this scene is that the placard announcing the date and location are different from all the other instances where this device is used. Firstly, both the location and date are on the same side of the sign. Secondly, this instance is the only one that doesn’t thrust itself upon the camera lens, instead being submerged in water. It stands out as being different, but I don’t know that there’s anything of meaning in it other than it’s used as a way to set the scene.

Speaking of setting the scene, we have another instance of David Arnold’s musical mastery with his treatment of the main theme for the soundtrack as we zoom in on Crowley and Aziraphale. The use of the harpsichord gives it a more Baroque feel, rather than being of the Romantic period that 1862 would actually fall into. To me it summons thoughts of Austen-era balls and olde-world courtships with their highly formal etiquette, all which would have taken place about 100 years prior to this scene, so I do find it interesting that it’s been chosen to orchestrate the theme in this way. Nevertheless, it’s a very pretty arrangement and definitely makes us feel that we’re still in England in a time when society had strict rules that needed to be adhered to.

Quick side note: the jacket Aziraphale is wearing in this scene appears to be the same one from the paintballing scene, which he says he has owned for over 180 years. This scene takes place approximately 155 years before the present day of this season, so even at this point he’s already owned that jacket for more than 25 years.

There’s a strange formality between the two of them in this scene, right from the start. Crowley doesn’t even look at Aziraphale as they’re talking to one another, staring stubbornly straight ahead.

Crowley opens the conversation with, what I think, is a really strange line:

What if it all goes wrong? We’ve got a lot in common, you and me…

It consists of two very different ideas that I just can’t seem to make have meaning when you put them together in one sentence. Not only that, I can’t even really make much sense out of the second part of the sentence – it just makes me want to utter the age-old phrase “and…?”. If anybody has any ideas on this one, I’m all ears.

This weirdly awkward meeting continues with Aziraphale’s belittling of Crowley from his first words, which he tries to shrug off, only to have the angel continue to make light of their companionship, claiming that the only thing their partnership is good for is to satisfy the agreement, making sure they “stay out of each other’s way”. This whole interaction just feels so out of character for the pair, particularly given that we’ve just seen them gleefully heading off to have lunch together not 30 seconds previously.

Crowley’s summation of his fall from Heaven here could be telling us a lot about his state of mind when he was still an angel – to me it sounds as if he’s saying that his mindset hasn’t actually shifted very far, and that it wasn’t a sharp sudden descent into his demonic state of being but a gradual (and willing) move. It’s a very different point of view from what we know Aziraphale holds: that there are only two states of being for ethereal beings – good or evil. It’s something we see a lot throughout the series – the comparison of the two opposing opinions on morality, along with the idea that Crowley is much happier in his “limbo” state than Aziraphale, who constantly fights against the notion that he is anything other than purely good.

Despite the fact that it’s painfully obvious that Crowley is really struggling with what he’s asking (there’s a little gulp before he mentions things going pear-shaped that says an awful lot, not to mention the attempts at deflection with his talk of ears), Aziraphale really isn’t listening to his friend in the slightest. Apart from the word “pears”. Surely Crowley should know by now that any use of food-related language is going to send the angel into fantasyland?

Aziraphale really proves that he hasn’t been listening at the point where he finally starts paying attention, though in an ironic twist he has to ask Crowley what he’s been talking about. The further ironic twist is that he starts listening at exactly the point that Crowley will only communicate his needs in writing (I’m not sure why it was necessary to write down the words “holy water” when they’re standing in broad daylight having a conversation out loud…). He’s clearly distressed at Crowley’s request though and his instant refusal to get him what he wants prompts the demon to look at him, albeit briefly, for the first time in this scene.

As little light side note here, I love how Crowley’s handwriting looks so childish on the slip of paper he hands to Aziraphale:

It feels so appropriate for his character that, even after 6000 years, he really has no interest in investing time to improve his writing skills. And what’s with the underline? Trying to convey how important he feels his request is? Whatever the reason, it just compounds the idea that this note was written with someone with the emotional IQ of an amoeba, which is far from the case.

We start to see how distressed Aziraphale is at what he thinks Crowley is asking for at this point.

He impassioned plea comes complete with a little gasping breath before he speaks that’s almost heartbreaking. What I find really interesting about the way he handles this situation is that his distress turns to anger very quickly. When he tells Crowley that he would be in trouble if their liaisons were ever discovered, I read that as him appealing to the demon to try and remind him that they are both at risk doing what they’re doing. Not only that, but there’s no way that he’s going to provide Crowley with an “easy” way out, which I suspect is his way of telling the demon that he doesn’t get to leave him behind. Pity he has to use a word that’s pretty aggravatory to try and hammer his point home – I think his choice would likely be driven by what Heaven would call their meetings, rather than how he sees them, but Crowley has already been told he can’t have what he’s asking for and is in no mood to allow Aziraphale any slip ups at this point.

That word clearly rubs Crowley up the wrong way (and rightly so I say, fancy trivialising 6000 years of companionship in as base a way as to call it “fraternising”). In his defence, Aziraphale does try to take it back, but it’s too late – they’re both too emotional charged at this point to see any sense. Crowley’s scathing response that he has plenty of other people he can “fraternise” with is perhaps not meant as a snipe to undermine their friendship further, but an angry declaration that whilst he might do that with others, it is not how he would choose to describe the interactions with the angel. If that is the subtext, Aziraphale misses it, seeing only the insinuation that Crowley is claiming he has plenty of people he can hang around with, making him less important.

Despite the seriousness of the subject matter driving the argument, we are once again leaving this location and time period with a bit of lightness.

My instinctive response to Aziraphale’s awkward storming off and disposal of Crowley’s note, along with Crowley’s snotty closing remark? A little groan followed by the disdainful muttering of “bloody children…”.

As always, comments, questions, discussions, all welcome!

[amaliazeichnerin]

Not separating the art from the artist

July 29, 2024

When the news about the allegations against Neil Gaiman broke at the beginning of July, I was shocked. In this text, I’ll write some thoughts about this. I’ll put links down below, in the footnotes.

I listened to the podcast that broke the news (1), all four episodes. I later read a bit about it on Reddit (2) and listened to an extensive video (YouTube channel Council of Geeks, footnote 3).

Then I read that another woman had come forward, talking about her experiences with Gaiman ten years ago, in another podcast (4). I also read about rumours how questionable behaviour of Gaiman towards young female fans has been a thing for decades.

And he has admitted to some of what one of these women, Scarlett, has said – having a consensual relationship with her.

Well, even if the relationship (and other similar ones) has been completely consensual - which I doubt after listening to Scarlett’s experiences and what the other two women said - there still is a strange power dynamic at play: A wealthy, privileged older man and at least three young, inexperienced women, two of them fans who likely were to some extend starstruck by the attention he gave them. And Scarlett was employed as the nanny of his child.

In my eyes, this kind of power dynamic in a relationship is unethical, especially given all the details in those podcast episodes.

Why am I writing about this here? I have a hard time with „separating the art from the artist“. Some time ago, I have written a blog in German why. (5) I used to be a fan of the Sandman series and the Good Omens series. I also like the Dead Boy Detectives series and I watched and read American Gods.

I think the connection between the Dead Boy Detectives Netflix series and Neil Gaiman is not that strong, because while he has written a part of one episode as far as I heard and has created the characters for the Comic books, he wasn’t that much involved in the creation of the Netflix series. They also changed the two main characters quite a bit, as far as I know, for instance making them older.

When it comes to Good Omes, Gaiman was heavily involved in creating the series. I used to love it. I wrote an alternative universe fanfiction about it, I created some fan artworks and two cosplays. I also bought some fan artwork and hung it on my wall. I also love how Michael Sheen and David Tennant portray the main characters. However, after these news about Gaiman, „Good Omens“ feels … tainted to me. I lost my enthusiasm about the show. I have to admit about season three that I was mainly interested in a happy ending for Aziraphale and Crowley, preferably a romantic one. At this point, I do not much care for the rest of the plot. So far, there haven’t been any news that season three gets cancelled because of this controversy. So we’ll have to wait how that goes on.

But there is more, and here is where it sort of gets a bit more personal. „Good Omens“ inspired an urban fantasy novel I wrote last year and want to publish next year. I even wrote an acknowledgment in the book thanking Neil Gaiman for the inspiration, but I have deleted that now. I have written that acknowledgment also this June in a question to Neil Gaiman here on Tumblr, but I now hope that he never sees or answers it.

As for Sandman, I am not sure anymore if I want to watch the second season which is said to come out some time in 2025.

I have never bought books or comics of Neil Gaiman, except for an e-book of „American Gods“ and a print copy of "Good Omens" which I both bought last year. But I have deleted the e-book some days ago. I used to read some of his books from our local library, back in the early 2000s.

I am going to keep my copy of „Good Omens“, because at least half of it was written by Terry Pratchett. And so far, I haven’t heard about any controversies about that author.

I would like to close this blog with a German article from a SFF website why we shouldn’t put famous popular authors on pedestals: https://www.tor-online.de/magazin/mehr-phantastik/neil-gaiman-und-co-wir-muessen-aufhoeren-menschen-auf-ein-podest-zu-stellen

Addendum August 2, 2024 Two more women have come forward with allegations, in a new podcast episode: https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/master-the-allegations-against-neil-gaiman/id1756088562?i=1000663998586

Btw, if after all you are still a Neil Gaiman fan and enjoy his works – you do you. But please do not reblog this to come to his defense, do not comment, do not message me. Just scroll on. I am not going to discuss this any further.

Footnotes: (1) „Master: The Allegations against Neil Gaiman“ by The Slow Newscast Episode 1 of 4: https://open.spotify.com/episode/1NxQdD9F1vb4YxtAPEiI5J

(2) https://www.reddit.com/r/neilgaimanuncovered/

(3) "About those Neil Gaiman allegations (and the outlet that broke the story)" by Council of Geeks: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5xmeEXDFM8I

(4) Podcast „Am I Broken: Survivor Stories“ by Papillon DeBoer Season 4, Episode 2 https://open.spotify.com/episode/47enk8V96GGkJtXEgwpXbs (5) Blog: „Muss man die Kunstschaffenden von ihrer Kunst trennen?“ https://amalia-zeichnerin.net/muss-man-die-kunstschaffenden-von-ihrer-kunst-trennen/

This is also interesting: „Manufacturing consent“ by Annabel Ross https://politicsdancingxyz.substack.com/p/manufacturing-consent

Rollingstone Article: https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-news/neil-gaiman-denies-sexual-assault-allegations-two-women-1235053131/

A round-up with a time line of everything going on with the allegations, reactions and more: https://muccamukk.dreamwidth.org/1678972.html Transcripts of the Tortoise Media podcast as PDFs for free download (TW: graphic descriptions of SA) https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1CuFVjs06gtQcPhhUEeR4GMORY37iMfz3

Addendum August 31, 2024 Two more episodes of "Master: The Allegations against Neil Gaiman" have come out, with more women coming foward with allegations.

Vera from "Council of Geeks" has done a second video on the topic.

[gray-omens]

part of me wants Crowley and Aziraphale to be SO bad at kissing it's like two inexperienced teens in a disney xd episode