#pocomens

[bijoumikhawal]

I was whining and bitching to my friends recently about book vs TV aziraphale and how the latter doesn't have the same bite- book Aziraphale is a bitch and that's why I like him- and bringing up that I think Aziraphale and Garak are similar characters (and that I have a similar problem with how McCormack writes Garak) is making me. Think about Aziraphale and violence again and the weird specific read I have of his character

I had these thoughts the first go around with Good Omens but I wasn't very good at dealing with them, but Aziraphale is really interesting because there's a good deal of like. Implied violence to his character. We joke sometimes about how down he was with child murder as a backup plan, but it's not just that.

Aziraphale was the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, which naturally has a lot of fanon about him having originally been a Cherub demoted to Principality. Cherubim are like... g-d there's so much about them. They draw the chariot of G-d, they carry G-d into battle, they are protectors- the same type of creature as lamassu (anthropologically speaking), they are divine monsters (and I say this as a religious bitch with love, they're incomprehensible and have distinctly inhuman, awe-some manifestations, but let's not get too carried away with my esoteric bullshit). To be blunt, they are associated with fighting.

The act which is thought to demote Aziraphale is giving away his sword. This creates War at the same time as Crowley... not creates Death, I suppose, but draws its attention. Aziraphale is, on a metaphysical level, the father of War.

Both Heaven and Hell are violent systems, though the book partially obscures the violence of Heaven by having it be literally quieter, in the narrative. Aziraphale is still part of a violent system and still serves it. Giving away his sword did not abdicate him from having to serve. He had certainly carried out violence in Heaven's name before. Aziraphale also has more faith in his 'side' than Crowley- he thinks if only he can explain to a superior, get them on the line and talk, they'll see destroying Earth is a bad idea! And if you do subscribe to the cherubim interpretation, part of this is probably because he views a level of relation between him and them as someone formerly high ranked.

Given that its also really notable that in the book, Aziraphale is incredibly indirect about violence. When they're at their last resort option with Adam, he directs Shadwell to take care of it. It's strongly implied he might've killed several mafia members for trying to bully him into selling his shop, but never actually stated. Things like that. Aziraphale is not comfortable getting his hands dirty- maybe he did it in the past, and can't bear it now, maybe he never was comfortable with it. Who knows.

And that makes me think it's also really notable that when Aziraphale makes his last stand, he picks up his sword again. I don't know what it is that's notable, but...

Anyway TL;DR book Aziraphale has strong veteran/ex military vibes for me

[abastardworthknowing]

me and @harleybecomecrowley drew ourselves :3

[legolambi]

i hope it’s not too late to participate in @petimetrek ‘s book omens week! 

my yesterday upload didn’t show tags at all lmao

[petimetrek]

I wanted to draw the moment Aziraphale realized he was in love with Crowley because I need some fluff in these trying times.

//Besides, how can you not fall in love with that super cute smile? 

[ethereal-not-occult]

in which aziraphale splits an apple in half with his bare hands

Not long after the unfortunate incident with the flaming sword, Aziraphale, on one of his final patrols in the Garden, came across an unusual scene.

He heard it first; something rustling and rolling about in the bushes, emitting a constant, high-pitched sound like steam escaping a leaky pipe. While alarming, it was also vaguely familiar. Almost like… hissing. Keeping an eye on the bushes, Aziraphale approached cautiously, though he suspected he already knew the source of the commotion.

His suspicions proved to be correct. Said source, awkward and gangling in his new human corporation, sat cross-legged in the grass behind the bushes, grappling with something in his lap while a steady stream of snarled blessings escaped through his clenched teeth. If Aziraphale didn’t know better, he would’ve thought the being before him was wrestling with a sort of diminutive, particularly vicious animal. As it was, he had once seen Crowley practically burst into tears at the sight of a duckling that was “just too damn small”, so that scenario seemed unlikely.

“My dear?”

Crowley jumped, swiveled around, and promptly fell over when he was forcibly reminded that he now had legs. The thing he’d been struggling with slipped from his hands, bounced once, and rolled to a stop at Aziraphale’s feet.

“Angel!” Crowley yelped. “What in Hell’s name are you doing here?”

“My job?” Aziraphale said tartly, raising an eyebrow. Crowley had the decency to look sheepish.

“Sorry. It’s just — I thought you’d been reassigned, given your, er, new position.”

“I’m still waiting for Head Office to process my papers before I leave. And you can call it a demotion, my dear. It is the truth, after all.” Aziraphale squinted at the round, red object sitting innocently before him in the grass. He really ought to have a word with management about this corporation’s short-sightedness. “What’s this?”

“Nothing,” Crowley said hastily, making a grab for it. Aziraphale easily blocked his flailing arm and stooped to pick the object up. With its firm, smooth surface and distinctive shape, it fit snugly in his palm in an all-too familiar way.

“An apple?”

“What about it?” Crowley’s voice took on a defensive edge. “Can’t a demon grab a bite to eat without being accosted by angels at every corner?”

“I saw what you were doing just now, and it was decidedly not eating,” Aziraphale pointed out, amused. “Not unless they’ve gone and changed up the terminology again without telling us.” [1]

[1: That had certainly been an eventful meeting. He’d half-expected to witness a second coming of the Fall, given how red Gabriel’s face had become.]

Crowley sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I am eating it. Or trying to, at least. I just can’t split the blasted thing in half the way I want it.”

“Couldn’t you simply…” Aziraphale mimed taking a bite out of the apple, with a distinct sense of déjà vu. Crowley scowled at him and snatched the apple back, this time successfully.

“Of course I can. I just don’t want to,” he snapped. He braced the apple against his knee with both hands and recommenced his wrestling-with-a-small-animal-but-not-really routine, and finally Aziraphale understood — Crowley was trying to break the apple apart using only his bare hands.

“You know,” Aziraphale said mildly, “you might have better luck if you used a dagger.”

“And whose fault is it that we don’t have one anymore?” Crowley shot back, blessing again when he lost his grip on the fruit’s slippery surface.

Well, really. Aziraphale considered lecturing him upon the differences between daggers and flaming swords, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Crowley pried at the apple in vain. It didn’t so much as creak.

“I don’t see why you can’t just eat it normally.”

With a curse, Crowley cast the apple back into the grass and drew his knees up to his chest, like a man-shaped creature who desperately wanted to coil into a defensive huddle but was impeded by the presence of too many limbs. He muttered something under his breath. Aziraphale leaned forward.

“What was that, dear?”

“I said I don’t like it when the juices get all over me,” Crowley snapped, coiling up tighter. “It’s sticky and unpleasant and bits of apple get stuck in my teeth. This corporation is a damn sight better than crawling on my belly all the time, but at least as a serpent I didn’t have to deal with all those… liquids.” He shuddered and turned away. His shoulders drew up defensively, as though he was expecting ridicule.

Crowley only looked up again when Aziraphale stepped forward without further comment and plucked the apple up from the ground. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” Aziraphale said simply, giving the fruit a scrutinizing look. Crowley uncoiled himself and raised an eyebrow. Yellow eyes flickered towards the noticeably empty sheath at Aziraphale’s belt, then at those warm brown angelic hands, plump and soft, with immaculately manicured nails.

“Thought you’d get in trouble for doing frivolous miracles,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale sniffed. “What, a miracle for such a small thing as this? Not at all necessary.” Giving the apple a final once-over, he positioned his hands just so, flexed his fingers experimentally, tightened his grip, and with a sudden sharp twist…

Crack. The apple snapped cleanly in two halves. Crowley’s jaw dropped, a little further than what was possible for human anatomy.

“There we go. And close your mouth, just a little.” Aziraphale dropped the two halves of the apple into Crowley’s hands, ensuring that none of the juices touched his skin. Crowley jumped a little, eyes wide. Aziraphale patted his shoulder. “My apologies, dear. You know I’m rather fond of your snakish form, but I don’t want you to get in trouble for alarming any humans on accident.”

“That’s not what I—how in the—you—grk?” was Crowley’s strangled response. Aziraphale tutted and miracled up a water skin to stop the demon’s sputtering. If his superiors asked, he would simply say he was lending a helping hand to a snake in the garden.

[moonbafoon]

was having some book style EMOTIONS

commissions are open!!

[starcipher]

An Aziraphale/Crowley Travel Zine: Interest Check!

A zine about Aziraphale and Crowley’s time on Earth and dedicated to showcasing artists’ poc headcanons!

This is to see if anyone would be interested in contributing/purchasing something like this but, more importantly, seeing if there’s anyone interested in helping me mod!

I don’t have any experience organizing a zine but i really want to make this happen for all my fellow poc good omens fans ^^ So if you’re interested in making this happen too, please fill out the survey linked above!!!

[cloverthegrand]

Angel and demon doodles for Good Omens book week!

1. I can't help but picture the graceful Renaissance depictions of the angels when I read the book since there is so little information on them. Yet again Good Omens is so zany I decided that that image is probably a placeholder at best.

2. And 3. Jemaine Clement is my FC for Book Beelzebub (Albeit wearing the costume from TV Omens since I liked the TV costume so much and I wasn't feeling like designing an outfit. Apologies 😬).

4. My Lucifer OC meeting Lucifer from Sandman. I was racking my head for so long for any description of book Satan when I realised that there was a Lucifer created by Neil Gaiman all along (and since this is Lucifer from the comics rather than from the show, it technically counts).

[anywherewewantzine]

Contributor Applications for ‘Anywhere We Want: A Good Omens Zine’ are now OPEN and will run until October 31st!

What is this zine about?

This zine is focused on Aziraphale and Crowley’s 6000 years on Earth. It is also meant to give fans an opportunity to showcase their poc headcanons and depict these characters in a less white, eurocentric context.

We would like to remind you that applications are only open to people of color. The purpose of this zine is to shine a spotlight on poc creators. We trust people to be honest and respectful of that.

Please read our About and Schedule before applying!

Fill out the forms in the links below to apply:

ARTIST | MERCH | WRITER

If you have any questions, feel free to send us an ask or email us at anywherewewantzine@gmail.com

@zineapps @zine-scene @zinefeed @zineforall @zinefans

[icekirbys]

Crowley BRAIDING Aziraphale’s hair

YEAH (paired with another anon request for a flower garden)

[image description: drawing of aziraphale and crowley from good omens. they’re in a garden, aziraphale leant back in crowley’s lap and reading a book. crowley is braiding aziraphale’s hair, sunglasses pushed back up in his hair, squinting and sticking his tongue out in focus]

[tumblerislovetumblerislife]

listen,, they're definitely married [id: crowley and aziraphale from good omens stand close to each other, holding hands and gazing adoringly into each other's eyes. aziraphale has dark brown skin, black eyes that reflect light a little strangely, and black hair in a short afro. he's smiling, open-mouthed, and there's some red smudged on his lips. he's wearing glasses, a dark blue button-up, and a red bow-tie. crowley also has dark brown skin, as well as long black hair in curls and his usual golden snake eyes. he's also smiling, open-mouthed, and his lips are painted red. his sunglasses are perched on his forehead and he's wearing a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up, a red tie, and black pants. he has a black earring and his nails are painted black. he's wearing a gold ring on his ring finger. /end id]

[bijoumikhawal]

Aziraphale in some Fáshión.

(ID: a bust drawing of Aziraphale from the shoulders up. He is wearing large glasses, a turtleneck sweater, thick hoop earrings, a simple chain necklace, and a beret. His hair is done in locs and decorated with various sizes and kinds of jewelry for the style. He has a neutral but vaguely pleasant expression. End ID.)

[cloversreblogs]

My Crowley and Aziraphale fan designs ^^

Aziraphale fc: Sendhil Ramamurthy (right face though he doesn't quite have the same body build)

Crowley fc: Godfrey Gao

[petimetrek]

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

My ko-fi

[ethereal-not-occult]

A follow-up to my previous post about Aziraphale with OCD and intrusive thoughts, and inspired by @goodm-omen-ts ‘s post here.

Warnings for descriptions of OCD, panic attacks, and intrusive thoughts (I don’t describe the thoughts themselves, but Aziraphale does react negatively to them).

--

“Angel?”

Aziraphale startled, clattering his fork against his plate. “Yes, my dear?” he said hurriedly as he sat up straight in his chair. “I’m so sorry, I must have drifted away for a moment. What was it you were saying?”

He tried to focus on Crowley, sitting at the opposite end of the table across from him. It was more difficult than he expected, like some part of his mind wasn’t yet fully there. He could only process fragments of the whole picture -- Crowley’s thin fingers wrapped around the stem of the wine-glass, his tie slightly loosened, Aziraphale’s own reflection in the glossy surface of Crowley’s sunglasses. He couldn’t see Crowley’s eyes like this, but the way Crowley leaned forward to peer more closely at him had a concerned air.

“Are you alright?” he said. “You seem a bit... out of it.”

Aziraphale smiled weakly. “Just a little too much wine, I think,” he said, hiding his grimace behind his napkin. “Please, do continue.”

Crowley studied him for a moment longer. “If you say so,” he said, a trifle dubiously. He launched back into his retelling of that one time in ancient China, when he’d sidled up to a scholar’s side and pointed out that hey, the number six in Chinese sounded awfully similar to the Chinese word for “flowing”, and wouldn’t it make a nifty pun if you combined three sixes together to mean “everything goes smoothly”? 

It really was quite the amusing story, and Aziraphale did try to listen, but it was like there was a faint buzz rising at the back of his mind, melding with the chatter of the diners around them and forming into insidious little voices that whispered vile things into his ears that he did not want to hear. Aziraphale sucked in a breath and discreetly moved his chair closer to the table, trying to zero in on Crowley’s face and voice. It worked, for a moment. For a moment it was all fine, and they were simply Aziraphale and Crowley, dining at the Ritz one lovely summer evening, free from all worries and superiors breathing down their necks. Crowley’s voice became comprehensible again as he enthused about “that fellow Chao who wrote the poem about the lion-eating poet in the stone den, you would’ve loved him, angel --”

Aziraphale’s gaze drifted past the curve of Crowley’s throat, which of course was when his thrice-accursed imagination decided to bombard his mind’s eye with a -- well. A thoroughly unpleasant image that sent a shudder of pure revulsion down Aziraphale’s spine. Stop it, he thought furiously at this intrusion. I would never do such a thing -- but no. There was no use arguing against it; he would only risk getting lost further in his head if he persisted. He stared fixedly at the tablecloth, but the buzzing thoughts in his head only grew louder. Be quiet, he snapped back at his mind before he could stop himself. The next breath he drew caught tight in his chest, and never mind the fact that he didn’t strictly need to breathe, the frustration and disgust and faint panic that it caused seemed to clog his throat and crawl beneath his skin like so many ants. He tugged at his tie, which suddenly felt far too tight around his neck.

“--ziraphale? Hey, Az?”

Aziraphale jumped at the gentle press of fingers against his shoulder. Crowley was somehow standing beside him, bending down to peer anxiously into his face. His dark glasses slipped down, revealing a flash of wide yellow eyes.

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale muttered, trying not to gulp too audibly. “I’m so sorry, let me just --” He tried to rise, but Crowley stopped him.

“Sorry, hold on. I have to call for the bill, but do you want to go wait in the car or sit here for a while longer?”

Aziraphale blinked, momentarily stunned out of his turmoil. “The bill? But, Crowley, we haven’t even finished our --”

Only, when he looked over at their table and at his own nearly-full plate, the last remnants of his appetite shriveled up and died, leaving a vague queasiness behind. He glanced at the chattering diners all around them, crowded and noisy and bright and everywhere at once. Always moving, never stopping. It was just... too fast. All too fast and all at once, and Aziraphale was dimly aware of Crowley rubbing his shoulders as he hunched over, squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to steady his breathing. 

It took a few tense moments, but eventually he was composed enough to look back up at Crowley, who had taken Aziraphale’s hand in his. Crowley tentatively wound their fingers together, tawny against warm brown, and it was an anchor amidst the churning storm of Aziraphale’s thoughts. 

“We can stay, if you want to,” Crowley said quietly, “but I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Aziraphale took another shuddering breath and nodded. “I can wait here while you get the bill,” he managed. “Thank you, my dear.”

Crowley pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s fingers, then turned to wave for a waiter. Aziraphale focused on pulling his suddenly-refilled teacup over, letting the heated ceramic settle his nerves and recognizing Crowley’s particular touch in the faint whiff of peppermint that rose from the tea’s surface. Soon Crowley was draping Aziraphale’s camelhair coat over his shoulders and wrapping a protective arm around him, leading them both towards the door while Aziraphale stared down at the tiles and blinked away the horrifying images that flickered behind his eyelids.

The Bentley was parked illegally on the curb outside, though it had been sitting all the way down the street only a minute before. Once out in the cool night air, away from the crowds, Aziraphale’s hands flew back to his collar, and Crowley helped him gently tug his tie loose until he breathed more easily. Then they were driving sedately down Piccadilly under the watery yellow glow of the street-lamps, and if the roads seemed unusually empty of people for this time of night, neither of them mentioned it. 

Aziraphale pressed his cheek against the Bentley’s window. The glass was cold against his skin, and a relief after the crowded warmth of the restaurant. The radio hummed softly with the refrain of Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy, a welcome distraction from his muddled brain. 

“Your place or mine?” Crowley asked softly.

After an evening like this, all he longed for were the comforting walls of his shop. “The bookshop, if it isn’t too much trouble,” he mumbled, eyes closed. 

Cloth rustled, and Crowley’s hand stole back into his. “You’re never a trouble, angel. We’ll be home soon.”

[ ao3 ] [ part two ]

[moonbafoon]

Can we get V2 for Aziraphale and Crowley? The spontaneity of it looks perfect for them :)

Spontaneous affection is god teir boys frankly anon