#so that aziraphale (and crowley) can save the day by stopping ���heaven”/metatron's plan for the second coming?

[frogeyedape]

I ran out of tags XD Good Omens Spoilers Beware! (time for dinner now)

The Magic Trick You Didn’t See: Being An Analysis of Good Omens Season 2

(or: Neil Gaiman, Your Brain is Gorgeous But I Have Cracked Your Sneaky Little Code And Have You Dead To Rights*) (*Maybe)

***

Soooooo I just spent the last 48 hours having a BREATHTAKING GALAXY BRAIN EPIPHANY about Good Omens Season 2 and feverishly writing a fuckin16,000 word essay about the incredible magic trick that @neil-gaiman pulled off. 

Yes, it’s long, but I PROMISE your brains will explode. Do you want to know how magic works? Do you want to know what Metatron’s deal is (I’m like 99% sure of this and it’s EXTREMELY FUCKING GOOD)? Do you want to know about the Mystery of the Vanishing Eccles Cakes and the big fat beautiful clue I found in the opening credits? Do you go through the whole inventory of Chekov’s Firearm & Heavy Artillery Discount Warehouse? 

Here is the essay, go read it: https://docs.google.com/document/d/193IXS11XN46lziHRb6eUpM17yK0BQkRqke1Wh64A_e0/ When ur done u can tell me I’m an insane crackpot, and u know what, i won’t even be offended

In case you don’t know whether you want to bother reading the whole enormous thing on google docs, I’ve put the first couple sections of it under the cut. JUST TRUST ME OKAY, HEAR ME OUT, THIS IS VERY EXTREMELY COOL, NEIL IS GOOD AT HIS JOB–

Keep reading

[fellthemarvelous]

Holy forking shirtballs

I'm choosing violence today. I started this on Twitter, but I'm going to finish my thoughts here like I always do.

But what really blows my mind the most is the way that people look at Aziraphale's "choice" at the end, as if he had one to fucking begin with.

I'm sorry, but Aziraphale knows how messed up Heaven is. He told The Metatron, more than once, that he did not want to go back to Heaven! We can debate what each of us means by "choice" all night because my "choice" and your "choice" might be two different concepts. He could have been strong armed by The Metatron or he could have looked at where things were headed and realized he had no choice but to intervene himself.

You need to ask yourself what Aziraphale has a moral imperative to do.

What do we owe to each other?

Seriously, if you have not watched The Good Place, I recommend you go and watch it, because it absolutely shaped how I've viewed Good Omens 2 since its release.

My levels of frustration with the bad faith mischaracterizations of Aziraphale are off the charts. If you are blaming him for everything, implying that he should have to grovel and that Crowley has a right to hurt him back, you have missed the point of Good Omens entirely.

I defend Aziraphale, but I don't think one of them is more right or wrong than the other. They're equals. They're a group of the two of them, acting and reacting to each other throughout history. They're Alpha Centauri.

I cannot even begin to explain how fucking devastated I felt when Crowley said these words, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. What he said took a lot of courage because he's finally admitting something they've both been too scared to publicly define for 6,000 years. Crowley has had to spend so long with a rough outer shell because he fell and had to hide all of his softness.

The look on his face was one of pure joy when he created that nebula, but I think the fact that he got to share that moment with Aziraphale is what has always stuck with him.

So yeah, seeing Crowley with a broken heart at the end of "Every Day" was sad for me as well.

My brain still lives here!!

But Neil has said that Good Omens 3 is not quiet, gentle, or romantic. I imagine it's going to be more like the the first season in which they are not central to the plot. GO2 will help us make sense of how they ended up where they are when we see the bigger picture with all the other major players involved with GO3.

Aziraphale was still a soldier and accidentally got himself discorporated in his own magic circle in season one. He had a platoon waiting on him to start Armageddon, and he deserted them to go save the world with Crowley instead. Aziraphale is a deserter. I need everyone to remember that. He yeeted himself out of Heaven and sought out Crowley before even locating a body just to warn him about what was happening so they could try to save the world together.

I can't help but think of 1941 and that magician who had been arrested for being a deserter.

Aziraphale disobeyed orders. That took courage but it branded him as a traitor against Heaven. They tried to destroy him for it the same way Hell tried to destroy Crowley for his part in stopping the war.

Aziraphale and Job are the only characters we have seen interacting with God directly. Aziraphale has spoken to God before and he is determined to do so again.

Aziraphale knows Heaven is flawed, but he also knows it's supposed to be good. He wants it to be good. He does not like the way the system works and he wants to make a difference. (And I'm pretty sure he's also determined to talk to God without being intercepted by The Metatron.)

Since when is that a bad thing? I don't get it. And I've had this discussion before.

If you need to change the system by burning the old one to the ground, it's still change, and we don't know what Aziraphale has planned.

It seems to me that people just want to see Aziraphale fail because it would punish him for returning to Heaven instead of running off with Crowley.

Some of y'all take everything Aziraphale says or does and twist those things into malicious anti-Crowley actions because you think the only reason Aziraphale exists is to make Crowley happy, and if he isn't thinking only about Crowley then he's doing something wrong.

Aziraphale does not exist as a plot device to further Crowley's character. They come as a pair. They've been learning from each other for 6,000 years. Crowley challenges Aziraphale just as much as Aziraphale challenges him.

You can be mad at Aziraphale all you want, but villainizing him is gross. Defending Crowley does not mean you have to tear down and mischaracterize Aziraphale anymore than defending Aziraphale means you have to tear down Crowley (but I don't see that happen on nearly the same level it happens to Aziraphale). Stop painting Aziraphale as an abusive partner, for fuck sake.

Aziraphale knows there are flaws in the system. He wants to make a difference, and since he has seen that Gabriel can change, then maybe the whole system can. He has to at least try, and if he can succeed then maybe he and Crowley can stop hiding and finally be together without having to look over their shoulders all the time.

Why is that a bad thing? He's just as protective of Crowley as Crowley is of him!

But don't forget that Aziraphale's wing was covering Adam and Eve too. As much as a wants to protect Crowley, he has a moral imperative to keep humanity safe as well.

He sent Adam and Eve into the unknown with a flaming sword so they could protect themselves.

As much as he wants to be with Crowley, there are 8 billion people on Earth heading toward the Second Coming and Judgment Day. They'll work together to fight alongside humanity in the end. Aziraphale should not have to humiliate himself just to earn Crowley's forgiveness. That's a rancid notion.

The Resurrectionist was a whole ass moral dilemma for Aziraphale, which is why I brought up The Good Place earlier, but that's a post for a different time.

Aziraphale has his own motivations and they're just as important as Crowley's, and they don't have to be chalked up to Aziraphale being the bad guy. Weird, I know, but shades of grey.

"To the world."

[aziraphales-library]

Hey there! Do you have any refs for fics involving a road trip (extra points if its aziracrow as Angel/demon and not an au altho aus are lovely too!!)

Hi! We have some road trip fics here, and I've got more now...

leave you faithless by midnightbotany (T)

As Aziraphale struggles with the demands of his new role as Supreme Archangel, a heartbroken Crowley embarks on a journey around the world hoping to stop Armageddon. Again.

Where The Furniture Used To Be by Magpie_BKK (T)

The Bentley has mysteriously brought Crowley back to central London, just as an old friend turns up at the bookshop. But not everything is as it appears, and Crowley finds himself on the run with an amnesiac angel, trying to unlock his memories along the way.

The Lost Apostle by miraworos (G)

After a long hiatus, Crowley badgers Aziraphale to go on a road trip with him. But it's more a quest than a road trip, and both Crowley and Aziraphale may be getting into more than they bargained for. Bentley POV.

Waterfall by duustbunny (E)

Two years after Aziraphale accepts the Metatron’s offer, Crowley is captured as he attempts to infiltrate Heaven and Aziraphale is tasked with executing public punishment. Instead, he lets the demon lead him on a quest to recover a lost item that can help them stop the end of the world once more. Because Heaven is not the boss of him anymore, and preventing the Apocalypse will never stop being his and Crowley’s job.

The Journey by ElderlySardine (M)

“Anthony J Crowley… Mayfair, London… Next of kin: Mr A Z Fell…” Crowley nodded. It wasn’t as if he had anyone else. “Emergency contact: also Mr Fell…” Crowley had almost stopped listening. “Relationship to applicant: husband…” “Husband?!” Crowley and Mrs Lowry spoke together as one, for the first and almost certainly the last time in their lives. “Husband.” Crowley recovered first, and fixed Mrs Lowry with a hard stare into which he infused just a little bit of demonic energy. “Is that a problem?” It was a problem. It was Aziraphale's harebrained plan, and it was clearly doomed to failure, as well as embarrassment and ignominy. But since when had Crowley been able to say no to the angel? It was only two weeks, and 3,850 miles. It couldn't be that hard, could it?

hurry back, please bring it back home to me by Percyjacksonfan3 (T)

“Why should I?” The demon interrupts cuttingly. “You’ve made it perfectly clear where your priorities lie and anything I say won’t make a bit of difference.” “That’s not true at all.” Aziraphale replies after a long hurt moment. “And you know it. Besides, you’re being stubborn. You’ll help me eventually.” Rage flashes over Crowley’s face. “You think so, do you?” Aziraphale juts his chin up stubbornly, ignoring the unpleasant feelings Crowley’s expression stirs in him. “Yes.” Aziraphale needs Crowley's help in saving humanity from the Second Coming and despite what happened between them he's determined to get it. After all, it's not only that he needs Crowley, but his plan also includes their car. As for the other matters between the two of them... well there's no reason those can't be sorted out along the way as well, is there? Or, a possible take on Series 3 that includes the Bentley, a resurrected Jesus Christ set on bringing about the End of Days, and an angel and a demon who are stupidly in love with each other but are both suffering from a lack of experience on how to actually deal with said emotions. Emphasis on the stupidly.

- Mod D

[sunderwight]

I keep seeing people argue that Aziraphale is "intelligent" or "not a fool" and that this means he can't possibly have fallen for the Metatron's blatant manipulation tactics or still genuinely believe in Heaven's righteousness.

Setting aside the validity of various theories (most of which I at least find interesting, if not outright compelling!) I think there's an issue here, which is that intelligence doesn't protect you from cult-like thinking. Especially not when you've been more or less born and raised in the environment.

In fact, what intelligence tends to do to people who have been indoctrinated into cults (and a cult is exactly what GO Heaven operates like) is give you even more tools for justifying or thinking your way around the contradictions of the cults actions vs message.

We even see Aziraphale do this, several times!

In fact, at the end of S1 doing this is part of what helps save the day. When he points out that Heaven can't know that they aren't defying God's ineffable plan while trying to follow the Great Plan, he's not just talking them into standing down, he's giving them an out. Because the whole Armageddon thing has already gone to shit and cannot proceed without Adam's cooperation, what they're really dealing with at that point is getting Heaven and Hell to accept that without retaliating. Even when Satan shows up it's because he's pissed, not because doomsday is still on.

Aziraphale uses the cult's own logic to give Heaven (and Hell) a plausible reason to back down without completely losing face. They don't have to admit that they were wrong, they can just file everything under "ineffability". Aziraphale pulls this off so well in part because he's been doing this to himself for millennia.

When he doesn't understand or really approve of the Flood, he files it under "ineffability". God has a plan but it's too complex and beyond even angelic comprehension to understand, so there must be a good reason for the Flood, it's just that Aziraphale can't see it. When he sees Heaven being complicit in Job's suffering and the potential murder of his children, he reconciles it by deciding that what God really wants is for him and Bildad to secretly stop it. But he flounders on that later, because to some extent I think he knows that this reasoning is self-serving.

(Knowing it's self-serving doesn't refute it, though, it just means that he worries about that until he talks himself into a bunch of reasons why it's still probably true.)

In S1, when Crowley broaches the subject of the apocalypse, Aziraphale's initial response is to recite the propaganda. It's all going to go according to plan, and it will all be great! When that doesn't work (because of course it won't be great, he's going to end up losing his true home and the person he loves most if this all goes down no matter who wins), he lets Crowley help talk him into how he could thwart the plan without "really" betraying his concept of God.

Basically, if Aziraphale's values come into conflict with Heaven, he decides that God secretly agrees with him. It's very like people who find their values coming into conflict with the institution of their church or temple, and so decide that there's nothing wrong with their actual religion, it's all just normal human corruption (or in GO's case, angelic corruption) muddying the waters of an otherwise purely good thing.

Now in real life of course this gets to be a thorny issue, but keeping it simple there isn't really a total separation between a faith and its institutions. You can't claim that there's nothing in the religion that lends itself to bad takes, just like you also can't claim that any ideology or belief system is invulnerable to corruption. Likewise, even if every bad thing in GO were to turn out to be the fault of Heaven and Hell and not God, God would still be accountable for a lot of the situation because God still set the stage.

But what matters for Good Omens and Aziraphale and this post is that, Aziraphale has put considerable mental energy into justifying how God and Heaven can still be Good and Right even as both of them do things he finds intolerable. Whether it's "God secretly wants me to do what I think is right instead of what I'm being told" or "Heaven has earnestly misinterpreted the will of God due to not knowing as much as I do", he puts his intelligence to use in protecting himself from the kind of revelation that would uproot his worldview.

The only kind of knowledge that actually protects people from cults is the knowledge of how they operate, and awareness that you're dealing with a cult. Aziraphale has a terrible disadvantage on both fronts because even though he's spent years watching humanity get into hot water with this stuff, he does so with the firm perspective that things are different for angels. He can't necessarily apply what works for humans to himself, because he knows he's a different kind of being (and unlike with IRL cults, it's actually true in his case, though I think demons and angels are both less different from humans than they believe).

Though, interestingly, he's closer to a accepting the truth when it comes to the differences between angels and demons. In S1 he is fully confident that he could possess someone, because even though angels don't do that, demons can. Whether he admits it or not, Aziraphale really does believe that Crowley is not meaningfully different from himself in terms of personhood or ability. If he can make the leap to the idea that angels and demons are not exempt from human-oriented concepts of self-determination and free will and unfair treatment by authority, and reconcile it with his own intense distress at challenging a core belief, then the fact that he's quick on the uptake will really start to work in his favor.

[butisittho]

So I was rewatching season one, and I noticed something. I don't know if someone has pointed this out yet, but in S1E04 when the apocalypse is about to happen, Aziraphale and Crowley have a conversation that is incredibly similar to the one they have in the last scene of the second season.

Crowley is asking him to run off with him to literally any other planet, but Aziraphale refuses because he believes that if he could just talk to God and convince him to stop the Armageddon, everything will be fine.

Now as we know, Crowley doesn't actually leave and they have a happy ending (lol) and all that. After that, some angels find Zira and both physically and verbally assault him. He tells them that he's going to report it to a "higher authority" and they laugh at him and say "You really think upstairs will take your call?". After all this, Zira calls them bad angels and tries to contact the Almighty. Bad angels. He doesn't think Heaven as a whole is a bad thing, a rotten institution. He just believes there's a couple of bad apples (sound familiar?) that sort of spoil the whole barrel. He has such an individualistic perspective of corruption that he genuinely believes if he could just explain what's wrong to the person in power (God) everything would be fixed.

And then, when Zira finally tries to contact a higher authority, God doesn't answer. But guess who does?

The Metatron does answer. And he even listens to Aziraphale, even if he doesn't change the plan. I think this serves as a strong precedent to explain why Zira would trust the Metatron in the next season, why he would believe him when he promises him power to run things, change things.

Because at the end of the day, Aziraphale wants to do good. That's what matters to him the most. When the Armageddon was happening, he didn't have the power necessary to actually influence anything, not in Heaven's side. But with the offer that the Metatron makes, that wouldn't occur again. This time he could choose what Heaven does, he could make a difference (or so he thinks, at least).

That's what changes. That's the reason why he accepts and goes back to Heaven. In his new position, he is above the angels who are "bad", so he can instruct them into doing good, and get rid of the corruption.

Which makes so much sense for his character I actually want to cry. He loves Crowley, of course he does, he needs him. But at the end of the day, if Zira has the chance to hopefully save humanity, even if it means not spending eternity with Crowley, he will do it. And I think that's beautiful, idealistic and naive. But it's the right thing to do, the good thing to do.

Also you know, he seems to grow really interested in the Metatron's offer only when he mentions that Crowley can be an angel again, which goes to show how much he loves Crowley. They literally are each other's worlds. But the fact that he believed that Crowley would be happy about it? Or even accept? That illustrates more of that idealism and innocence I mentioned before.

I think Aziraphale is also still maybe not ready to confront what his relationship with Crowley actually is. They are partners, they love each other, they only need each other to be happy, but in his eyes that's probably too much, too many feelings between an angel and a demon, too much dependence. In S1 when Crowley is devastated because "somebody killed my best friend", Zira doesn't know what to say and immediately changes the topic. It makes him uncomfortable, so much so he can't even outwardly recognize what he feels, even if he is aware of it. He gets a bit less emotionally constipated in S2, but in the last scene he still ends up responding the same way he did in S1; I forgive you.

In conclusion: Neil Gaiman you beautiful bastard

[aziraphalesdiaries]

31 st. January 2024

Dear diary.

It has been a while now, since I departed to Heaven.

Since I left earth.

Since I left my bookshop.

Since I... left Crowley.

Crowley... He was so angry, when I offered him to come with me to Heaven. To be an angel again. To be my second in command. I was confused first, wondering, what was wrong with him. Why wasn't he happy? But I was confused by the entire situation. His words.. they didn't make any sense.

He ... confessed that we'd been a team for at least 6000 years, denying that we are. Then, he brought up the idea of running away again. But this time, he seemed so... desperate. He seid, that we 'could have been...us'.

Before I could get any of my thoughts together, he stepped towards me, grabbed me by the coat and ... kissed me.

Good heavens, I can't describe the feeling, can't describe what happened to me.

All these years of disguise, of performing a charade ... a charade of not liking that nasty, courageous and caring, brave, sneaky, charming, dashing, daring bastard... all this collapsed over me like a gigantic house of cards.

I didn't even have the chance to sort out the pieces, when he suddenly pulled away. His eyes, these wonderful yellow eyes, glared at me, awaiting what I had to say. And me? I stuttered, stumbled over my tongue and could onlz think of the sentence, I always said after we had a fight. The sentence that always made everything well again.

'I forgive you!'

Not this time.

I could see his eyes shadow, something broke within them.

'Don't bother!'

He went pale, turned on a heel and stormed out of the bookshop.

I stood there like back in Jericho again, when the walls came tumbling down. Or those poor humans of Sodom who were turned into pillars of salt.

My trembling hand touched my mouth... where his sweet lips had been moments ago. It already felt like eternity.

Before I could calm my thoughts and blink away my tears, The Metatron entered and urged me to leave.

It must have been a reflex. An escape reflex.

The next thing I remembered, was crossing the street at The Metatron's side, stepping towards the lift. Where he told me, what the ineffable plan really was.

The Second Coming.

All colour drained from my face. They're trying it again. And this time, it was, as Crowley had said 'The Big Thing'.

I was wrong.

He was right.

He'd been right all along.

I turned to my bookshop, where Muriel was about to close the door. But my eyes were on Crowley. My dear Crowley, as he stood next to the Bentley, waiting for me to turn away and run to him.

I could feel my heart breaking.

Because I didn't.

I had been tricked.

But if I wanted to save Humankind, if I wanted to save Crowley, my dear beloved Crowley, I had to go to Heaven. I had to be in charge and make a difference. It was the only way.

Heaven would never change.

So it had to be stopped from the inside.

I need some time to get used to my new title. Supreme Archangel Aziraphale is way too complicated, but Heaven insisted on that. So I go along with it as long as I can.

The first days and weeks were just a blurr, since there were so many things to be done. Michael and Uriel hadn't been very helpful. The Metatron kept a very close eye on me, but since I hadn't brought Crowley, his suspicion faded day by day.

I tried to feel at home, at least a bit, but every day without earth, the streets of London, Nina and Maggie and food and coffee and my 4 o' clock tea and - all over that- Crowley, was just bitter and empty. It drained all laughter from my face, made it a cold and stony mask.

I start to understand Gabriel, why he was, like he was. I even feel pity for him.

So I spend my days existing, listening to the orders given from above and give them to others

But today I miracled a small book, a pen and I allowed myself some time to process all those things that happened.

I have to be very cautious, listing all that happens up here in Heaven so that dear Crowley will know properly to make the right preparations.

Because I won't let them down.

Not after I gave away my flaming sword .

I won't let him down. Not again.

Sincerely yours

A. Z. Fell

[elevenstork]

Crowley is frantic, horiffied, contstantly pacing. He is openly lashing out and expressing his anger at God, at the Great plan and everything that still stands between them, separates them, frightenes them, even now, when more than ever, he can feel the time slipping through his fingers (6000 years really nearly nothing for immortal beings and they only have days left). That’s where his desperate plea comes from („Come with me! We can go off together! We don’t stand a chanche against them, but, maybe.. just maybe  if we run away together we can still stole a little more time for us, maybe I can still protect you).

And that’s where his desperatness and (legitimate) panic clashes with Aziraphale’ naivety and stubborness. The angel still believes that heaven is righteous (yeah, the archangels aren’t very nice but, surely, it must be just that they are in particular some very bad angels and not that in general angels aren’t good or nice?) (heaven hell whatever he even reprimands them to the Metatron);

he still believes that he only needs to speak to someone higher up than these particularly uncaring assholes bad angels and than everything would be better, because surely God’s Plan can’t really consists of getting rid all of humanity, and another war right?? („We could raise that child to no longer be the Antichrist, that would be something appreciated, right? We could find the real child and eliminate him, that would be something good, right? We could just stop this, right?)

Crowley wants them out of all that shit, out of Heaven’s or Hell’s range and Aziraphale still thinks that as an angel he has a duty to save the world (even if he has to lose his own world in the process).

Aziraphale still thinks that he has the upper ground over Crowley, that Crowley just trying to tempt him (hence the „I forgive you”) and that’s (rightfully) enrages Crowley even more because he doesn’t need to be forgiven, he didn’t do anything wrong; not in the Beginning and not now when expresses his anger over a death threat that looms over both of their heads and when he would expect some understanding or compassion („How long have we been friends?”), he meets with Aziraphale’s blinding naivety and denial („We are not friends”, „We have nothing whatsoever in common!”) Crowley knows that it’s just panic, of course he knows

(they were very openly fraternising by the time of the Apocalypse; Aziraphale even called Crowley his friend in the earlier episode, so nonchalantly that I’m sure it wasn’t the first time either) but it still hurts.  It’s a game they have been playing since at least Job (their own little dance) and it still hurts terribly and they have no time or chance to speak this through; no time for Crowley to slowly get Aziraphale to do what they both truly want, he is just too afraid to do it right away; so Crowley leaves and tries to think of a plan B.

[thelanding]

Hurt as he is, I'm just certain Crowley will visit the bookshop all the time in Aziraphale's absence to take care of the place and make sure every single book is in perfect condition when his angel returns. He'll rearrange them in correct alphabetical order, dust them off, sometimes even read a Jane Austen one to his houseplants for old times sake, remembering the ball and how happy Aziraphale looked that night. He will remember the dance and holding his angel close until he can't take the weight of his memories.

Then he will bury himself in grief again. Whenever that happens, he's usually got his glasses on and hides in empty corners of the shop all alone. Since Aziraphale got into that damn elevator Crowley's been waiting for him to come back or contact him but it's been years now and sometimes he doesn't see hope. Why's he even here? Will Aziraphale ever realize the danger he put himself in or how much better it could've been if he stayed here with Crowley? Did power change him? Did he ever think of them anymore? Was he safe up There? Did he hate him?

Muriel is typically the one to find Crowley in those moments and she always tries to cheer him up in the silliest ways cause she doesn't have a clue how to help a demon but can't stand to see him hurt like this any longer. Crowley probably resents her all along and complains about her loud presence or the way she's running stuff all wrong and how Aziraphale would collapse if she let Maggie put another one of her teacups on top of Cleopatra's diaries again, but given time she'll become his only company and perhaps even somewhat of a friend.

One day he tries to trick her into praying while she's preparing a bath for him - an offer she thought he'd refuse on spot like all the previous ones and was quite surprised when he instead enthusiastically accepted. She doesn't pray that day, though, and it's not until the next week when he tries to trick her into prayer again, this time when watering the plants, that she realizes he's been in search of holy water.

Maybe after that, after watching Crowley be miserable for so long, Muriel's the one to come up with a plan to help him find Aziraphale and end this. She goes Up to Heaven to scold Aziraphale and inform him of Crowley's situation and intentions. She tells him everything. Even if Aziraphale did accept the job in Heaven under some kind of threat of Them erasing Crowley from the book of life, what'll he do when he realizes his efforts aren't making a difference in saving anyone, not even his best friend? Humanity isn't safer, Armagedom is still set to happen with or without his interference, and Crowley is in deep suffer and danger down here anyway. Aziraphale will definitely fight to get out, then.

Metatron won't hold anything to prevent Aziraphale from coming back to Earth. He will lock the angel somewhere to avoid all and any attempts at a reunion between the duo who blasted a miracle through Earth's atmosphere or even rebeled the AntiChrist against his own Father.

And maybe there's nothing Crowley can do to save his angel. No, this time, it's Aziraphale who has to save himself and go after his demon. It's Aziraphale who shows up at the bookshop last minute and stops something terrible from happening to Crowley, and cries in his shoulders and apologizes for leaving.

Ineffable husbands reunite and this time they finally talk. They finally kiss. They finally understand each other. After all is said and done and forgiven, they save the world a second time - closer and stronger now. And then they finally go off together.

Books and houseplants and the Bentley and an eternity awaits them in a South Downs cottage. There are no sides but their own side.

[kaesaaurelia]

archival conditions

For @whumptober day 15, using the prompts “suppressed suffering," "I'm fine," and the lyric prompt, "I don’t need you to help me I can handle things myself."

Continued from Day 5, wherein Aziraphale returns to Earth, hoping some allies he’s contacted will be able to help him, has a big fight with some archangels, and is horribly injured leaping in front of Crowley, who wasn’t supposed to be there, and Day 8, wherein one of Aziraphale's angelic allies (and an old enemy of Crowley's) rushes in to distract the Metatron while Crowley scrambles to save a horribly wounded Aziraphale, and the three of them manage to get away from the archangels in the Bentley.

Crowley was about to ask Cerviel why he was in Crowley's car when Cerviel leaned over, said "Oh wow, he looks like shit," and teleported himself to the back seat. Crowley watched in the rearview mirror (and nearly ran into a building) as Cerviel began to heal Aziraphale's wound. "Thanks for the ride."

"I didn't offer," said Crowley. Cerviel might be helping Aziraphale but he couldn't pretend this other angel wasn't dangerous. He'd heard rumors that Cerviel kept a water pistol full of holy water behind the counter of his deli, and had a collection of apotropaic antiquities unmatched by any museum. And now he had Michael's spear, which apparently had some particular significance to it, and was within easy reach of her sword. "Last time we met you tried to discorporate me, sso forgive me if I'm not particularly friendly."

"You discorporated me," Cerviel pointed out, although he sounded awfully cheerful about it.

"You discorporated Aziraphale!" said Crowley.

"Which was an accident," Cerviel reminded him, "because I was definitely aiming for you. Anyway, I'm healing him now. Are we good?"

"I'm not good," Crowley said.

"Not metaphysically, come on, I know you know what I mean," said Cerviel.

Crowley's heart nearly stopped as Aziraphale said, very weakly, "Oh, stop fighting, both of you. We're all on the same side."

He wanted to ask Aziraphale so many things, but not with this other angel here. He didn't want to be on the same side as anyone but Aziraphale, and Aziraphale had chosen Heaven first, and then apparently a bunch of other angels, and he hadn't wanted to see Crowley, only then he had wanted to see Crowley, and see his eyes, and. And. Several traffic lights exploded as he blew past them, which was a little cathartic, at least.

He realized he didn't know where he was going, so he'd defaulted to heading to the bookshop. Which was where Aziraphale had wanted him to go in the first place, so it wasn't as though Aziraphale hadn't wanted to see him, he just... hadn't wanted Crowley's help. Or something.

Crowley shook his head to clear his mind and tried to pretend his tears away as he drove to the bookshop.

--

Aziraphale was only hazily aware of the wild swerves the Bentley made. They were almost comforting, as was Crowley's occasional needling of Cerviel, but he was in such pain. The wound in his chest somehow hurt more, rather than less, and there was another wound, shallower but searing. Had Michael nicked him with her sword?

In his mind's eye he saw Michael's collapse, and her subsequent flight as the Metatron and the other archangels turned on her, like Actaeon in fear of his own hounds, and he fell headlong into a nightmare, one which swerved back and forth in time as much as the Bentley was doing in space. He was fighting angels over the plans for life on Earth -- no, he was fighting demons and trying not to hit Crowley -- he was in a bathtub in Hell asking for a rubber duck -- he was in a furnace in Hell pleading to be released in a language only he spoke -- he was being stabbed by War on a grubby street corner -- he was in the Blitz and guiltily, giddily in love -- he was in the lift to Heaven -- he was fleeing down the escalator to Earth....

He did not wake from it until he heard the car door open.

"...thought you didn't get on?" Crowley was asking.

"Eh, we made up in '42, too much going on not to," Cerviel said.

"Ah," said Crowley; it was a remarkably diplomatic syllable coming from him. Somebody undid his seatbelt -- since when had the Bentley had seatbelts? -- and tried to carry him, and Aziraphale realized he was going to have to actually be awake for this, and so he wrenched his eyes open and struggled to his feet, though it took a minor miracle to do so. "I can walk," he said.

"Can you?" said Crowley, although the person in front of him didn't resolve into Crowley in his swimming vision for another moment.

"Shit, he looks awful," came another voice -- that would be Vehuel, probably; she was another Principality, who had been a friend of Crowley's until she had nearly killed him in the War in Heaven. (Crowley had reconciled with her about a hundred years ago, which was why Aziraphale was not doing his best to leap between the two of them, but he had to remind himself forcefully that that had already happened, that he had in fact called upon her specifically because she was good with evacuations and had good reasons to hold a grudge against Heaven.)

Some of his terror must have shown, even so. "Come on, angel," said Crowley, "between the three of us I really don't think you have to walk." His arm was around Aziraphale's waist, and Aziraphale found himself in the wildly irrational dilemma of wanting to collapse into Crowley's arms and being worried he might bleed all over Crowley as surely as he had the Bentley. Crowley was already cross with him, and --

"Come on," Crowley repeated, making the choice for him with a slight shift in weight. "Oof."

"I'm sorry to be such trouble," Aziraphale tried to say, although it came out a bit mushed together.

"Ugh, he's apologizing," said Crowley, as if he would never ask for such a thing, much less make up a silly dance for the purpose. "Hold the door for me, will you? And come in with me so you can heal him? Because I can't."

Vehuel and Cerviel had a brief argument over... something to do with whether Moroni and Nisroc could be trusted to go door to door to evacuate humans without... administering personality tests? (Or maybe he was hallucinating again, because none of that made any sense -- for one, Nisroc was a demon, and had been dead for ages.) It didn't matter; eventually, from the sound of it, Vehuel accompanied Crowley into the bookshop.

"Do you want me to carry him?" she asked.

"I'm fine," said Crowley.

"You have noodle arms and also you've been crying."

"Shut up. I have not."

"I mean I can't help much with the crying but I can with the noodle arms," said Vehuel.

"I've got miracles, fuck physics," snapped Crowley. "Save your miracles for the healing."

"Fine, fine."

"Thought you and Cerviel didn't get on, though?"

She sighed. "I mean, he has his moments, but by the '70s I think he figured out I wasn't Principality of Boston, and after I got out there in 2001 I just thought, fuck it, can't hold this grudge forever, and I pretended like we were friends because otherwise it would be awkward, and I... think we might be actual friends now? Anyway, I have so many other, better grudges."

"Ah," said Crowley -- again, very diplomatically. "Which grudges?"

She launched into a tirade about various Mayors Daley, which Aziraphale was very glad he had no obligation to pay attention to, and which he knew Crowley wasn't paying attention to at all, even though he'd been the one to ask. She paused only to offer to take Aziraphale's feet as they went up the stairs, and Crowley refused, and that was that.

Aziraphale had been rescued by Crowley a great many times, but he had never been carried bodily up a narrow flight of spiral stairs by Crowley, and while he appreciated how safe he felt, the jolting made his head hurt, and by the time they got to the top, he rather regretted his architectural choices. It probably would have been worse with someone else carrying his feet, though, so there was that.

"Angel, where's the bedroom?" Crowley asked.

Aziraphale lifted his head blearily from where it had been resting against Crowley's shoulder, looked around dizzily, saw that they had finally reached the top of the dreadful, dreadful stairs, and waved his hand vaguely, and they were off again, and shortly he found himself being put down onto his own soft bed, which he only really ever used to read in. "I'm fine, really," he insisted.

"The hell you are," said Vehuel. She examined his wounds while Crowley stood over him making pained noises that he didn't really appreciate, but Vehuel's miraculous healing helped him a lot, and he found he was strong enough to sit up properly, and he could even look at things properly, because everything had stopped spinning like an out-of-control carousel.

"There really is no need for all this fuss," Aziraphale said, but now that he could see properly, he could tell that Crowley and Vehuel wore nearly identical expressions of disbelief.

"You got impaled by Michael's spear!" Crowley snapped. "You are not fine!"

"It's not as bad as all that," insisted Aziraphale.

"You really are a bad liar," said Vehuel. "Also what's this other wound from?" She poked at the slice across his chest, and he winced. "Sorry. I guess at least it's not bleeding?"

"What? What other wound?" Crowley demanded.

Michael falling. The Metatron kicking her aside. Actaeon's hounds. "Nothing," said Aziraphale.

"Michael swung her sword at him," said Crowley, "but I thought it didn't connect."

"Oh," said Vehuel, sounding extremely unhappy about something.

"That's a bad 'oh,'" said Crowley.

"Excuse us for a sec," Vehuel said, and she took Crowley just outside the doorway and explained something in low enough tones that Aziraphale couldn't hear what she was saying.

"Oh," said Crowley, sounding as though someone had just punched him in the stomach. "Um. It's in the car, I think. If you want it. Cerviel has the spear."

"Fuck, I'm not touching that thing again, I saw what it did to you," she said. "The sword's worse."

"You're both being very rude, you know," said Aziraphale.

They both ignored him, continuing to converse in hushed tones, but then Crowley hissed something urgent at Vehuel, and she apparently decided to retreat.

"Look, I'd better get back outside before Nisroc comes back," she said. "I thought they had some kind of East Coast-West Coast thing but apparently it's a Jerusalem-Babylon thing, which is worse."

"Yeah, probably," said Crowley.

"If I think of anything I'll let you know," said Vehuel. And she was gone.

Crowley slunk back into the room, looking at Aziraphale as if he might pop out of existence at any moment. Which, Aziraphale supposed, might be true for all he knew.

In which case, he had priorities.

Crowley sat down on the bed next to him, but Aziraphale was trying to find the specific inside pocket he needed. "Angel, what are you doing?"

"Looking for the book," said Aziraphale. "Oh, where is it --"

"Forget about the book," said Crowley, "you're more important than --"

"I am not," said Aziraphale. He found it. "Aha!" And, triumphantly, he withdrew the Book of Life from his coat, and handed it to Crowley, whose eyes were wide as saucers now.

"Is this. Angel. You didn't," said Crowley.

"They weren't even keeping it in proper archival conditions, Crowley!"

Crowley frowned down at the book. "Don't think they've got bookworms in Heaven, angel. Unless they've been very good bookworms, I suppose."

"It's not that, it's all the light," said Aziraphale. "And no climate control. No security, either. It was disgraceful."

Crowley had been holding back a smile, and that finally coaxed it out. "You're ssuch a basstard," he said admiringly.

"You must keep it safe," said Aziraphale. "If anything happens to me --"

"Nothing's going to happen to you," said Crowley, fiercely.

Arguably it already had. "I don't think you should tell the others about it," said Aziraphale. "There's too much power in it. I don't even know if I can be trusted with it."

"And you're giving it to me?" Crowley asked.

"I trust you at least as much as I do myself," said Aziraphale. "Perhaps not about the archival conditions," he admitted, "but you've a better moral compass than Heaven."

He had expected a vocal objection to this, not the pained, barely audible intake of breath Crowley made.

"Now, what is this about Michael's sword?"

"Ah. Well." Crowley looked away. "Er. Might be... might be a few things." He did not meet Aziraphale's eye.

"And those are?" Aziraphale prompted.

Crowley winced. "You might be, er. Falling? But this has only ever happened once before, so --"

"What do you mean?" Aziraphale asked. "Plenty of angels have Fallen. You were one of them."

"Yeah, I was," said Crowley. "But only one fallen angel was Supreme Archangel when he Fell. And that wassss. An entirely different processs. Ssso we don't really know, er. The hazards?"

It took Aziraphale longer than he would have liked to put this together. "Ah."

"Sso. You might not. It might not be good," said Crowley, now looking entirely away from Aziraphale. "I mean, of course it won't be good, it'sss not -- it'sss -- but it won't be -- I mean -- hopefully you won't die? Look," he said, his voice shaking, "look, at least you've got someone here who can help you through it. I sssaw what happened with Lucsssifer, and, and I'm sure it'll be fine, and." He trailed off. "I mean. It hasss to be, doesn't it?"

He was trying so hard to be some comfort, the poor dear, and all Aziraphale wanted to do was to tell him everything would be all right. But Aziraphale had no idea if it would, and he was a terrible liar. So instead, wincing at the pain of movement, he reached out and took Crowley's hand. "Stay with me?" he asked.

Crowley looked at him, finally -- startled at first, then serious. "Of courssse," he said.

[somecouplestolove]

Questions about Good Omens Season 2:

If Aziraphale knows the angels are bad, then wouldn’t he have guessed the Metatron knows that as well? If so, why wouldn’t Aziraphale expect him to step in and take care of the bad angels? Crowley: “How can someone as clever as you be so stupid?!”

So God and Satan talk and place bets on the humans. So I guess God isn’t good either. Does God regularly converse with Satan?

What did Aziraphale have to apologize for when he did the apology dance?

Why wasn’t Crowley concerned when the angels were threatening to erase Aziraphale from the Book of Life?

And why would Crowley encourage Aziraphale to speak with the Metatron? Wouldn’t he realize that would be bad?

Why didn’t the archangels recognize the Metatron?

Did Aziraphale already say yes to the Metatron before he talked to Crowley?

When Arizaphale was hesitating to leave the bookshop with Metatron, what was he looking at? Out the window at Crowley walking away, maybe?

Is the Second Coming more of another name for the end of the world or more of a Judgement Day kind of thing?

I wish someone would do an analysis of Aziraphale’s face in the end credits. I want someone’s thoughts on what he’s thinking during the elevator ride.

I do have to say I absolutely LOVED this season. Love seeing the flashbacks of their time on Earth. Love the focus on them. I have not stopped thinking about it since the day it came out. I’m obsessed now.

Thoughts for Season 3:

I want Aziraphale being the one going feral for Crowley. Showing his true feelings through his words and actions. We’re always seeing Crowley run after Aziraphale. I want to see the other way around. I want Aziraphale being the vulnerable one with Crowley. It would be amazing if Heaven plans on killing the demons or just Crowley on the down low but Aziraphale finds out and goes insane.

I do not want them becoming human at the end. Only getting to spend another 30 or so years finally together to die so soon. Nope.

I also don’t want to wait for the last episode to see them officially together. We’d only get a few scenes. I need more!

I don’t want them apart most of the season either. It’s just less and less together. Even if they’re not on good terms but have to work together to save the world, at least to keep them near each other.

Anyone have any thoughts? Headcanons?

[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Winging It - Luke 1:19

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon Rating: T  

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: Almost done! It's not quite wrapped up - an epilogue is coming - but we're almost there!

***

“I say you should let me destroy him.”

“It was not his fault. One of yours was controlling him.”

“Demons cannot create darkness from nothing. They always work on what’s already there, to make it grow and take hold. Hastur will be punished once I get my hands on him, but this human is not innocent either.”

“No one is innocent, that can hardly be held against him. Without the heavy-handed intervention of a Duke of Hell, any dark thoughts he may have had would have remained thoughts, never acted upon. Not the way things played out, at any rate.”

“Does it make any difference?”

“It does, and you know it. All the difference in the world,” was the reply. Beelzebub scoffed, but did not argue further. They just crossed their arms and stayed behind as Gabriel stepped right in front of the man who had stabbed him, who stood still with a horrified expression on his face. 

Gabriel picked up the knife that had been dropped on the ground, pocketed it, and pressed a hand on the man’s forehead. The horrified expression melted into a distant, blank gaze. 

“Now, if you please,” he said. Several steps away, with the expression of someone who’d rather be quite literally anywhere else in creation - except, perhaps, in the presence of Satan himself - Crowley lifted a hand and snapped his fingers, undoing the time-stopping miracle he’d conjured.

Right away, the stillness was broken. People who’d stopped mid-stride began moving again, cries of alarm that had been cut short rang out once again, and the man - Noah, was it? - staggered back, blinking at Gabriel as though he had no idea how he’d even come to be there. 

From his part, Gabriel gave him a wide, stupid smile. Blood had been miracled away almost as soon as the two of them had broken apart - which did, admittedly, take a minute or two - but the front of his suit was red regardless. To be entirely honest, when he’d asked Aziraphale for some red ink and then proceeded to splash it on the front of his suit, they all had looked at him like he had lost his mind. Beelzebub had thought God had taken his brain in exchange for the wings, but now they could at least see what the archangel had been planning. 

“Noah!” said archangel was exclaiming, face lighting up. “Long time no see! How are you?”

The man blinked another couple of times, reaching up to rub his head. “What am I doing-- where-- wait, I… I remember you, don’t I? You gave me your coat. But what just… my head...”

“Sir! Are you all right! What is-- oh.” 

A man - one of several humans who’d quickly approached to see what was happening, or at least had begun to before Crowley so conveniently stopped time - stopped in his tracks. Gabriel grinned. “Ah, I’m fine, I’m fine! I didn’t watch where I was going and the gentleman here knocked me over, that is all. Entirely by accident.”

“Oh. It... it looked like--” a few pairs of eyes paused on the red stain on Gabriel’s clothing.

"An unfortunate end for an ink cartridge, I am afraid, but no harm done other than that."

“Ah.” A long sigh, while Noah kept looking around in obvious confusion. “Ah, thank God. For a moment we thought you were wounded.”

“Thank God indeed, I am not wounded,” Gabriel replied, voice smooth, and reached to put an arm around Noah’s shoulders. “But forget the ink, I think we should catch up…”

The young man - who would soon leave Soho with a dulling headache, still unsure of what had happened, and with a winning lottery ticket in the back pocket of his jeans - followed, and the crowd dispersed, the incident closed as far as humanity was concerned.

Well. Most of humanity, at any rate.

***

“More tea, Warlock?”

“You gave me three cups already.”

“Right. Right. It is cold by now, isn’t it? I will make more.”

“... Brother Francis. You do realize I am not going to stop asking what the hell happened just because you keep giving me tea, right?”

Ah. Well. Perhaps it had been a slightly foolish hope, that. Tea did have a tendency to smooth over a lot of trouble, but that was probably a little beyond its scope. “Well,” he said, putting up a smile. “I for one would very much appreciate it if you could

“That bloke had wings.”

“Yes, well--”

“And he was stabbed, but then he was fine.”

“You see--”

“And that was not normal lighting.”

“Actually, I was just reading about this interesting phenomena calling ball lighting--”

“And you had wings,” Warlock cut him off once again, glancing over where Aziraphale’s wings would be if he hadn’t temporarily tucked them away on another plane of existence. “Where did you put them?”

“That is… quite the handful of questions.”

“A lot of weird shit happened.”

“Language, young man.”

“You tell me what happened, and I’ll start talking like a duke.”

“Not like the duke who caused this mess, I should hope,” Crowley spoke up, walking - more like sauntering, he never walked like that when he was his nanny - back into the bookstore. Brother Francis, whom Warlock was beginning to suspect was not called Brother Francis at all, finally set down the tea pot to look back at him. 

“Is everything sorted?”

“Yes. Nothing of consequence happened, happily ever after, and most importantly Beelzebub and the Archangel Fucking Gabriel have left.”

“Actually, I am still here.”

“Gah!” Crowley yelped, actually leaping a couple of feet up in the air before turning. The bloke-who’d-been-stabbed-and-then-suddenly-had-wings was standing in the doorway, the splatters of red ink gone from his suit and wings no longer visible. He looked… rather pleased with himself for the reaction he’d solicited. “Why are you still here? Wait, is Beelzebub--?”

“They are off to find the runaway, luckily for you. Your forked tongue keeps slipping far too often, Crowley. Keep that up and you may end up giving your little rouse away, sunshine.”

“Sunshine, me? Have you hit your--” Crowley began, only to trail off as though struck in the face. “Ah. Fuck,” he muttered, the annoyance giving way to something a lot more similar to fear. Behind Warlock, Brother Francis cleared his throat, passing the tea pot from one hand to the other and then back again.

“When… when did you figure it out?” he asked. That bunch of weirdos was making less and less sense with each passing moment.

“The third or fourth time he added that expletive between my title and my name in my presence, I suppose.” The man grinned, more than a touch smug, before shrugging. “You need not worry. I will make no mention of it with anyone.”

“We’d be… grateful if you didn’t,” Brother Francis said.

“Speak for yourself,” Crowley muttered, clearly mightily annoyed.

“I owe you too much to do such a thing.” The man made a gesture as though to zip his mouth shut. “My lips are sealed. Ah, and I am glad to see the young man is all right, of course.” The man nodded towards Warlock. “I’m relieved you were unharmed.”

“Huh. I… yeah. That’s gonna be a fun story to tell a therapist one day. Thanks for pulling me out of the way, I guess.”

“You are quite welcome. I am here to thank you as well, Aziraphale,” the man added, turning to Brother Francis, whose name definitely wasn’t Brother Francis after all. “For all your help.”

“Oh. It was nothing.”

“It was far more than I had any right to ask of you.”

“To be fair, you didn’t ask.”

“And you took me in anyway. You do have a lot to teach about the greater good after all, but I assume you’d prefer not to be further involved in the workings upstairs. Am I correct?”

A nod. “Quite correct, as a matter of fact.”

“Well then, I will leave you be. Time to see if I learned the lesson I was meant to learn, I suppose.”

“... Back to your hold position, then?”

“I suppose. I will have to see what Metatron will tell me once I return to Heaven. If I am indeed to return to my duties, I will need to serve notice at the warehouse back in Southampton.”

Ah, great. So everyone here is going insane. Cool, cool. 

As Warlock sipped lukewarm tea just to keep himself from laughing a little hysterically, the man he’d known as Brother Francis and who probably was neither thing nodded, and held out a hand. “Best of luck, then,” he smiled. “And thank you for saving Warlock. Crowley and I are quite fond of the boy. You have more than repaid any debt you may have had.” 

Behind the man Crowley opened his mouth as though to protest, paused a moment, and then begrudgingly closed it. Warlock was not entirely sure why that made him grin into the cup, but it did. Not that it kept him from yelping and dropping said cup to shatter on the floor with a loud ‘fuck’  when a bolt of lighting suddenly struck inside the bookshop, blinding him for a moment.

When he opened his eyes again, blinking a few times, the man was gone and the bolt of lightning seemed to have caused no damage. Well, aside from the shattered cup he had dropped, which now Brother Francis was picking up and… magically putting back in one piece. 

Okay. Okay. Okay. 

“What the--”

“Language if you please.” The man who had once been his family’s gardener cleared his throat, and put the mended cup on the table before glancing at Crowley. “Well, I suppose we do owe him an explanation.”

“He’s just a kid.”

“So are Adam’s friends, and they clearly could handle it.”

A sigh. “Fair,” Crowley muttered, and sat down as well before he reached up to take off his glasses. Warlock had never seen him without glasses, even when he was his nanny… and as he took a look at his eyes, he suddenly knew why. He stared, mouth hanging open, as Crowley scratched the back of his head. “All right, it’s a long story,” he began. “So, in the beginning - which is to say, the Beginning with a capital B…”

***

“Archangel Gabriel. It is good to see you again.”

“Metatron. It’s good to see you as well. Am I really meant to return to my old position?”

“That is the will of God. With immediate effect.”

“Ah, I am afraid I need some time.”

“Oh?”

“I need to hand in my notice at my current workplace. It would be unprofessional of me to simply walk away on them.”

“Ah, I see. I am certain that can be arranged - would it help if they happened to find a perfect fit for the job right after you notice is handed in?”

“It would be much appreciated.”

“Consider it done. Anything else?”

“... Does God have any instructions as to what plan I am meant to follow now?”

“You know the answer, Gabriel. You need to forget there was ever a plan, and do what you think is right. You, and everybody else.”

“We may get it wrong.”

“That’s part of the package, is it not?’

“Hah. Fair enough.”

“Rest assured, however, that any mistakes made in good faith will not be dealt with as… severely as your previous crime.”

“That is a relief. However, I ought to disclose that I have grown quite... close... to Lord Beelzebub in my time on Earth. Certainly, God must be aware.”

“God knows all, including your most questionable taste.”

“... Are those God’s own words, or…?”

“My own. But I am here to speak for God, so my apologies for the lapse.”

“Right. And… the Lord does not believe this impedes my return to duty?”

“Clearly not, if you’re standing here before me.”

“... I am not going to renounce Beelzebub. I told them as much and I will repeat it before the Lord.”

“God is aware of that as well. They have been following your eventful stay on Earth very closely. It will be interesting to see how Heaven and Hell are both going from here. Change is the only certainty going forward. That, and the fact you were never forsaken. No one ever is.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now, Archangel Gabriel - do you wish me to announce your return?”

“No, no, no need. I believe I will drop by to see my colleagues myself.”

***

“Hastur is nowhere to be found in Hell, Lord Beelzebub.”

“Hmph, of course he’s not so dumb he’d try to return. I want everyone to know that when found, he must be captured and brought to me.”

“As you wish. On what charge?”

“He disobeyed my direct order by approaching the traitor. Now go spread the word.”

“Of course, Lord Beelzebub.”

With Dagon gone, the Prince of Hell and Lord of the Flies sat back heavily on their throne and rubbed their forehead, trying to quell a growing headache and make some sense out of the event of what was supposed to be an uneventful day, at least according to the original plan.

Plans really cannot be trusted anymore, it seems.

With a grunt, Beelzebub turned their gaze on the small table right by, where - among a few mugs of dubious taste - sat a folder. Last they had laid their eyes on it, the name Gabriel F. Archer had been written on it in blood, or rather in red ink that was purposely meant to look like blood. Now, however, the folder was blank - as were the papers in it, no doubt. There no longer was any human by that name whose sins they had to keep track of. 

There was only the Archangel Gabriel. 

By all logic, that ought to be the end of everything that there may have been between them. Except that the idiot had grasped their hands before they returned to Hell, looked at them in the eye and said, “I will not deny you”.

“Even your precious concierge upstairs denied Yeshua when push came to shove. Three times.”

“I will never.”

“What if it leads to another fall?”

“I survived the first. I can take another.”

“You’re a fool.”

“I am aware.”

Beelzebub scoffed, but a smile was curling their lips as they reached to take the blank, useless folder. It burst into flames the next moment, igniting a few of the flies buzzing around their head before they let it fall on the round - there it crumbled quietly, into ash.

***

“Ugh, where’s the folder…”

Michael rubbed her forehead with a groan, coming to the realization she was really not really meant for record-keeping. Truth be told, that was a conclusion she had come to on almost a weekly basis since Gabriel had been dismissed. She’d take on fourteen wars to end all wars rather than having to keep grappling with what had been the bulk of Gabriel’s job, but alas--

“Any particular folder you’re looking for?”

Ah, speak of the devil. Or rather, speak of the archangel. 

“The one concerning renovations of the third sphere,” Michael muttered, looking up at the wall full of… nothing but folders. Paper copies were kept even after everything had been digitized, and Michael had figured finding the physical copy would be quicker than trying her luck with the password she had written down and then misplaced a week earlier.

Gabriel chuckled. “It’s just a little on your left, fifth shelf from bottom, about midway.”

Ah, yes, there it was. “Thanks,” Michael said, and reached to take it out. 

Then she froze. And blinked. And then she slowly, slowly turned.

Standing in the doorway of his office, impeccable in a light grey suit and pink tie, Gabriel grinned. “Security has gone downhill since I left,” he said. “Just letting a mortal wander right in.”

Michael opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She worked her jaw a few moments, trying and failing to find words. “You’re not a mortal,” she finally managed. He clearly was not, giving off the kind of power only a celestial being could give. 

Gabriel’s grin widened. “No longer,” he said, and suddenly unfolded his wings, causing Michael to recoil in surprise. Not his old wings, the ones she cut and tore away herself; it was something different. The golden brown of the feathers was at odds with the immaculate white of their surroundings, but it was wings nonetheless and not the scorched black that set demons apart. The being before her was the same being she had known since almost the beginning of time. 

I am Gabriel, who stands in the presence of God.

For a long moment, Michael could only stare. Gabriel’s grin faded a little before he cleared his throat and folded his wings, maybe somewhat embarrassed by the display. “My apologies for startling you, I figured I’d--” he began, but Michael crossed the distance between them in a couple of strides, and pulled him in a tight embrace before he could add anything else.

Not something Michael was usually keen on doing, that, but she felt the situation warranted it - and as he returned it after only a moment of confusion, she knew he thought the same. “No one will take your wings ever again,” Michael heard herself saying, and Gabriel chuckled. 

“Not even if God orders so?”

“Especially not if God orders so.”

Until little less than a year earlier - the blink of an eye, really, in the context of his existence - Gabriel would have been both horrified and stunned to hear such words from Michael of all people, and would have hardly believed she meant it. Now he clearly did know she meant it, and he seemed neither horrified nor stunned. He pulled back with a smile. 

“It’s good to be back.”

“Good to have you back.” Michael cleared her throat and straightened herself, deciding she had shown enough unguarded emotion for the decade. “But… how did this occur?”

“Ah, it is a long story.” A pause. “Actually, not all that long. It happened fairly quickly, but there is some background you... rather need to hear.”

“Of course. There have been developments in Hell, too - it seems they may be harboring thoughts of--”

“I know. Beelzebub told me.”

Michael blinked. “Beelzebub… told you?”

“Yes. They brought it up during the train ride to London.”

“A train ride to London,” Michael repeated, faintly wondering if Gabriel was feeling well. Angels did not get fever and much less have fever dreams, but mortals did - a detail Michael had learned after the eleventh time her appearance had been mistaken for a such episode - and perhaps Gabriel was suffering from some… drawbacks, after almost a year spent as a mortal.

But then again, back when he had still been scared of them, the scars on his back still fresh, he did hide from Sandalphon… and behind the Lord of the Flies of all beings. 

But he’s here. God willed him back. Surely he did not fraternize… did he?

Michael opened her mouth to ask, but Gabriel lifted a hand with a sigh. “I know, I know. There is… quite a lot I have not told you about. I’ll explain everything, I promise - at least the parts of everything I understand myself. But first, I would like to visit--”

“Michael, I think I found the password!” Sandalphon’s voice rang out, causing Gabriel to trail off and turn back towards the door. Sandalphon was walking in with some papers under his arm. “You had misplaced--” he began, looking up, and trailed off. 

Gabriel grinned. “Hey,” he said, and all the papers Sandalphon had been carrying fluttered to the floor. If Michael had gone for an embrace, Sandalphon - ever devoid of sense of measures - went for a full-on tackle. Gabriel didn’t seem to mind, though, and Michael opted to push aside all worries and questions for a few minutes, especially as Uriel came to see what the mess was all about. It was rare to see her smile so openly, and Michael decided to leave it at that. After all, they just got Gabriel back. 

Everything else could be sorted out later.

***

“You son of a bitch!”

“You know, given the circumstances of who is personally and directly responsible for my existence, what you just said is about a dozen different kinds of blasph-- oof!”

Of course Gabriel couldn’t really be out of breath anymore, but if he could, Daniel’s bear hug would have knocked all air out of his lungs. He laughed, patting his back. “Nice to see you too.”

“Archangel Gabriel-- look at you, I can’t believe it,” he barked out a laugh and dropped Gabriel back on the floor. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were drunk!”

“Well, I was. Too drunk to know better than telling the truth. I’d never had alcohol before, let alone in a mortal vessel.”

“Hah! I did wonder how come a can of beer got you rambling like that. So what, I passed some sort of divine test?”

“It was no test, but if it were you’d have passed it with flying colors.” Gabriel smiled, and nodded politely towards the woman in the room with Daniel. “Liv, I presume?” he asked, but of course he already knew the answer. Daniel had a photo of his wife in his wallet, taken before the cancer diagnosis was ever uttered.

“It was probably already eating away at her, but you’d have never known looking at her,” Daniel had once said in a rare moment of talkativeness about the subject. Gabriel had agreed that the woman in the photo did indeed look radiant, and that was precisely how she looked now. Of course, most souls that make it to Heaven do. 

“That would be me. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

“What are you doing here?” Daniel was asking. “I mean, you were cast out - they decided to hire you again?”

“In a manner of speaking. I’ll have to hand in my notice back in Southampton, I am afraid, but I do plan to keep in touch with our colleagues. Hopefully they will all come here when their time is up. Although I must say, Łukasz is on thin ice if he keeps on putting cream in carbonara.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can put in a good word for him if needed, no?”

“Me? Ah, I don’t know. Maybe,” Gabriel replied, all fake innocence, and Daniel laughed.

“Never had a friend in a high place before. This is a nice change of pace,” he said, dropping a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder before his expression turned… a little more serious. “I’ve got to thank you for all your help. Finding my brother.”

Ah, that. “It is all right. I am only regretful he was not found on time for you to meet in person.”

A pained expression crossed Daniel’s features, there one moment and gone the next. “... Well, I do hope… he will come here? Eventually?”

“Oh, yes. He and his wife are well on track to gain access to Heaven.” Unlike your parents, Gabriel thought, but Daniel had not asked once about them and he chose not to bring them up. “Actually, they want me over for lunch next weekend. I figure I ought to go.”

“Ah, of course.” Daniel seemed to hesitate. “Tell him I said hi. I mean, I know you can’t say that, but if you could just-- try and-- let him know. You know what I mean?”

Yes, he did know. “Of course. And one day they will probably both want to smack me for not coming clean,” Gabriel said. “Ah, before I forget - would you like to have Lawrence’s old dog?”

Daniel blinked and looked over at Liv. She shrugged, at a loss. “Lawrence’s… what?”

“His old dog. It has passed away, and as all dogs find their way to Heaven, it is only a matter of finding out its name…”

***

“He’ll keep calling you Brother Francis for a while before he gets used to your name, isn’t he?”

“Most likely. I cannot  blame him, it was a lot to take in. I certainly do not mind, when it came to choosing a name I picked that of someone I do admire a great deal.”

“That weird hippy who talked to birds? Should have known when you kept welcoming pests into the garden.”

“Heh. Maybe you should have been the gardener after all, as long as you promised not to terrify the Dowlings’ poor plants too much.”

“And leave the role of nanny to you?”

“Well, why not?”

“You wouldn’t have looked half as good in that dress, angel.”

Leaning next to him on the huge bed in their cottage - Crowley had not expected Aziraphale to join him on it, truth be told, but he had no complaints; maybe the day had just been that draining - Aziraphale chuckled. “Well, I would say we did a decent job with the boy. He took it better than I expected he would, all things considered.”

“We did keep out some parts of the story.” Namely, the fact they had briefly talked about… getting rid of him, when they believed him to be the Antichrist. Not that either of them had followed through, or even wished to.

“True. But all things considered, he was more excited than anything else.”

“He’s still eleven, of course he was excited. He’ll be back with even more questions.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Maybe we could have him over here next time. At the cottage.”

“Can’t see why not.”

“... We could have wiped his memories off. Do you think he will really keep all this to himself?”

“He’ll be thrown in the madhouse if he tells, to use his own words. He’s a smart kid. Takes after me.” Crowley grinned. “He’ll keep it under wraps like Adam and his friends did. More smart kids. I wonder how they’re doing.”

“Well, I am reasonably certain we’ll find out in September. I would be very surprised if they didn’t receive a wedding invitation themselves.”

“Wedding invitation?”

“Ah, yes, it came in the mail. I forgot to bring it up - remember that dear Anathema and… Newton, I think the name is? They kindly invited us to their wedding.”

“Did they? How nice. I will need to find a good dress.”

“Don’t you upstage the bride now, you know it’s not nice.”

“I am not nice.” Crowley hissed, and Aziraphale just chuckled before he stretched. Crowley considered asking once again if he was sure Gabriel would indeed keep their secret, but decided not to. Aziraphale seemed certain, and he was… willing to trust his judgment, this time.

“Ah, perhaps this is a good occasion to find out if sleep is indeed all that you make it out to be,” Aziraphale was saying. “You’ll ensure I wake up in the morning, won’t you?”

Crowley blinked a moment, taken aback. Then Azirapahle raised an eyebrow, clearly confused by his sudden silence, and he cleared his throat with a quick nod. “Of course,” he said, having absolutely no intention to rouse Aziraphale any earlier than necessary. 

With complete control over his human form, Aziraphale was of course able to will himself to sleep within moments, his expression absolutely peaceful. Crowley could have done the same, but he… didn’t. Not yet.

A good night’s sleep was indeed all it was made out to be and then some more, but at the moment he didn’t mind staying awake just a little longer.

***

“So you were re-hired for your job? That sounds exciting. You must be happy to go back. Have more cake.”

“Ah, thank you. It did feel a lot like coming home, but it will be keeping dreadfully busy. I believe the entire business is long overdue for some rather radical changes.”

“Hmph. From what you have said before, it sounds as though you were fired without just cause.” Lawrence sipped some tea, leaning back against his seat. “I certainly hope they will not pull the same stunt again.”

“Ah, to be completely fair, there was due cause. I was simply in denial over it. Hardly anyone likes admitting to being wrong.” Gabriel took a spoonful of the block of carrot cake Berenice had just dropped on his plate, going his best to pretend he didn’t notice Doyle peering up at him from under the table, drooling copiously and trying with very little success to play the part of the starving stray. “And I have learned much in my time away. I believe management thinks that’s what makes me qualified for the work ahead.”

Lawrence shrugged. “Well then, if this is what you feel works best, I can only wish you the best of luck. Should you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to let me know,” he added.

Gabriel smiled. “Thank you,” he said, glazing over to the framed photo of Lawrence and Berenice’s wedding day - namely Doyle’s predecessor, the huge Newfoundland who’d been their ringbearer on the day,. “... If I may ask, what was that dog’s name?”

Please don’t be Fido. I cannot bear thinking about how many dogs called Fido are in Heaven. 

“Huh?” Berenice followed his gaze to the photo. “Oh, that was Chewbarka. A very good boy. Slobbered an awful lot, but he was still the gentlest boy.”

Well, that was going to make the search easier. Gabriel promised himself he’d make sure Chewbarka was found and taken to Daniel as soon as he returned, ate more of the cake, made more small talk, and shook his head with a smile when Lawrence asked him if he’d like to stay for dinner. 

“No, thank you. I really do need to go back.”

A laugh. “Ah, of course. You’re a busy man now.”

Gabriel grinned back. “That too, but as of this evening, I just have a date.”

***

“You told the other archangels about me?”

“Yes. There was no reason to keep hiding--”

“How dare you!”

“They would have found out eventually--”

“You denied me the pleasure of seeing their faces as you told them,” Beelzebub muttered, causing Gabriel to trail off, stare a moment, and laugh. 

“Hah! My apologies. It did not occur to me you’d have appreciated being present.”

“Hmph. And how did they take it?”

“I think ‘shell-shock’ best describes their reaction, but they’ll get used to it. I think. I mean, I am not leaving them much of a choice.”

I won’t deny you, Gabriel had said, and kept his word. Beelzebub snorted, but did not protest when Gabriel’s arm rested across their shoulders. They glanced up at the setting sun instead.

“... Everything from here is uncharted territory,” they said. No plan, no guarantees, no nothing. 

“Yes.” Gabriel grinned. He was doing that an awful lot lately, with childish glee. It was annoying and it made him look stupid, but Beelzebub found they didn’t mind. “Isn’t it exciting?”

***

And the angel answered and said to him, “I am Gabriel, who stands in the presence of God, and was sent to speak to you and bring you these glad tidings." -- Luke 1:19

***

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[aziraphales-library]

Hi! Your account is so great and I really appreciate what you guys do here.

Im not sure if there are many of these out yet, but I’m looking for good fics of what season 3 could look like. Like the events of 1 and 2 are the same but then we get to see them dealing with that ending.

Thanks so much!

Hello! Here are some series three speculation fics...

Armageddon Part 2: The Second Coming by Halfling (M)

Takes place immediately following the end of season 2 of the show. Crowley just wants to be left alone but he keeps getting interrupted. Heaven is MIA, Hell is up in arms, and no one can get a moment's peace.

what we could have been (and what we one day shall be) by meetmeatthecoda (E)

The next time Crowley sees Aziraphale after the day he broke his heart, entered a blinding white lift, and left him behind, it’s in almost the exact same place. Three interminable months later. That awful day, driving aimless and slow in a silent Bentley, Crowley wasn’t sure if he would ever see Aziraphale again, let alone so soon, considering the way they left things. He tried to tell himself that he didn’t care if he ever clapped eyes on his white blonde curls, steel gray eyes, and ridiculous tartan bow tie ever again, but the tears threatening to spill out from behind his sunglasses betrayed his true feelings. (Not to mention the random but persistent spots of bright yellow paint on his car’s otherwise pure black sheen, ruthlessly rubbed out with an index finger the temperature of an open flame.)

Bad Omen by lavender_mo0n (T)

There is a common misconception that owls are a bad omen, a warning sign for death and destruction that is to come. On the contrary, a better way to describe it is to say that they are a symbol of change. That change may come in the form of death, but perhaps that is more in reference to the death of life as we know it. And perhaps a certain angel is about to experience a ~very~ big change.

On the Side of the World by profdanglais (M)

The demon Crowley has gone rogue. Precisely what “rogue” looks like on a demon who was never anyone’s idea of “manageable” is something neither Heaven nor Hell is currently equipped to deal with. Hell is rebuilding and Heaven, under the auspices of the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, is focused on spreading the Word of their prophet, known as the Second Coming--of what, exactly, remains unspecified. Neither side seems to remember who Crowley used to be, nor have they bothered to change the passwords. The Metatron has no interest in demons, rogue or otherwise. His Plan is going swimmingly and he couldn't be more pleased. Now if only he could figure out who’s responsible for all these unauthorised miracles that just keep happening, far and wide, on planet Earth.

Of Gardens and the Second Coming by Serenity_Black (E)

Starting moments after S2E6... The new Supreme Archangel Aziraphale is in Heaven, juggling the Second Coming at The Metatron's behest. Crowley is wrestling with his romantic realizations, and losing. What is it going to take to get our lovestruck beings back on track so that they can save our favorite Libra and all its inhabitants? And where are God and Satan in all of this? There’s a lot of ground to cover before this ends, as it was always going to, in a garden.

The Better Book: A Brand New Testament for the End of Days by HollyGhostLightly (T)

The Second Coming is underway and it turns out there are competing plans to determine the fate of the world! An unofficial/unauthorized Season 3 of Good Omens… to stop the bleeding. 💔 Excerpt: Aziraphale frowned as his intelligence was insulted once again, “How can you expect us to put our faith in something that lacks any detail whatsoever?!” “Let’s try to remember the plan is still technically ineffable. I’m doing my best to make it effable for you guys but some things are obviously outside of my abilities.” The angel growled, “Oh, the plan is effable alright! If you ask me, it’s completely fucked!!” “Real nice language, coming from an angel! You’re putting money in that thwart jar!”

- Mod D

[thyra279]

Aziraphale is right on Armageddon

I’m not entirely sure how posting/reposting on Tumblr actually works, so I’m making a post of what was originally a response to this excellent post by ileolai I really think that Aziraphale is given quite a hard time for how he handles things in relation to Crowley leading up to the Apocalypse.

In defence of my BAMF boi Aziraphale (referring to the TV series as I don’t remember all the differences in the book):

No, he shouldn’t have told Crowley at the bandstand that they aren’t friends/are over, he should have told Crowley when he knew the location of the Antichrist, and he might have been naive to think that he could change the minds of God/the Metatron/a higher authority. I hate that he lies to Crowley after figuring out the location of the Antichrist.

Crowley’s (admittedly desperate) plan, however, was romantic af but not any better morally or much worse practically. It would not have worked long-term. It would have been selfish, short-sighted and cowardly and gone against everything they stand for and believe in.

If they HAD actually escaped (for all they know, at least, discounting Adam’s choices), Armaggedon would still have gone ahead, the War would’ve taken place, and one side or the other would have won. The winning side would realise either straight away or eventually that one of their own had deserted from the war. Whether the next day or in a few millennia, eventually, surely, someone from the victorious side would have come across them somewhere.

(Might’ve taken me three run-throughs to capture the screenshot because I kept getting too caught up in watching the scene.)

Also, again, there’s the sticky moral issue of the two abandoning Earth and all the creatures thereof to the sole custody of either Heaven or Hell. The world would have ended, Crowley and Aziraphale would have been together, yes, but always looking over their shoulder, and only for a limited time until they were discovered and punished for desertion/their relationship.

Now, it seems there were two other things they could actually do. First, Crowley’s other suggestion: Kill the Antichrist, murder a child. Comes with its own lovely set of moral dilemmas #utilitarianism. Not something either is particularly keen on doing, although it is Aziraphale who gives it a go: He IS willing, in the end, all other options exhausted, to kill in order to save them and the world. (Granted, it kind of  makes sense that he should do it; he’d at least be thwarting evil whereas Crowley would be going directly up against “his side”. But still, it’s going directly against the Great Plan.)

The only option that could possibly, potentially, mayyyybe work is to convince a higher-up to actually get the whole Armageddon called off. It’s the only way to save everything - the world, humanity, Crowley, their relationship; the only potential long-term solution. So, he goes to see the Archangels, to get them to either call off the war or (possibly?) kill the Antichrist. Aziraphale tells them some of what he knows, but he is smart enough not to tell his superiors that he already knows where the Antichrist is. He lies to them too and keeps the information to himself until he knows what the Right thing to do is to save the world.

Don’t think I’ve seen this talked about this anywhere: While speaking to Archangels, he also tries out quite a clever plan to help out Crowley, whose massive cock-up and cover-up in the wrong Antichrist fiasco will be found out as soon as Warlock reaches Megiddo: He suggests to the Archangels that Crowley did it all on purpose to trick Aziraphale and keep the real Antichrist safe.

(adorbs)

He’s not exactly making himself look great here, but it’s worth it if he can convince the higher-ups that Crowley is really a demonic strategic genius who was actually protecting the Antichrist all along.

After the Archangels tell him to piss off and the Bandstand scene (RIP), where he declares that can’t be on their side anymore and Crowley is the one to leave, he tries to get to Gabriel once again, which obviously fails. After Gabriel’s “What are you?”, he looks at him running off towards the bandstand, which is in focus although it isn’t in the rest of the scene and reminds of us him and Crowley, and we get the lovely, romantic (?) “I’m soft”. It’s pretty clear already that he has no intention of fighting in any war (or against Crowley). Then, after telling Crowley’s he’s being ridiculous for wanting to run away (and Crowley saying he’ll run off and forget about Aziraphale), he tries once again to explain why the war shouldn’t happen to the archangel thugs and to get them to see what they, as angels, should be doing and why it is vital that the world (and A and C’s role in it) continue.

He is clearly terrified. The archangels clearly aren’t there with good intentions, and yet he Stands Up to them and tries to make them see reason: They shouldn’t want the war, that’s not what they, the angels are there to do - they should be upholding one side of the moral coin, letting humanity choose between good and bad. (As an aside, I love all the “Aziraphale is terrible at being an angel” fun, but I - and probably god, and possibly even Aziraphale himself - think that he is the best angel: Even with the Arrangement, he has actually been doing the exact job of Heaven and Hell, upholding this careful balance between Good and Evil, allowing people to choose, navigating via his own moral compass, and taking care of humanity ever since giving away the sword, as a good principality should). He’s already saying pretty clearly that he’s on the side of The World, that he doesn’t want the war.

His last hope for actually avoiding the Apocalypse (and saving his and Crowley’s continued existence together) is God herself. Obviously and beautifully, he doesn’t get through, and the Metatron is no better than the other bureaucratic, dogmatic, powerhungry arsewipes in Heaven. He’s exhausted all other options, all hope of a long-term real solution for him and Crowley, and so he calls up Crowley to let him know Adam’s location so that they can go off in desperation and try to stop/kill the Antichrist. It won’t save them, but it might just be possible for them to save the world.

After his discorporation, he takes a very public, burning-all-bridges stand in Heaven and gives a metaphorical two-finger salute as he yeets back to possess people like a demon. He finds Crowley and is very much set on the task at hand - getting to and stopping the Antichrist - even though he and Crowley clearly have a lot of personal shizzle to discuss. At the Airfield, finally, he’s the one who actually does try to kill Adam to save the world.

Also, Aziraphale comes up with the brilliant distinction between the Great Plan and the Ineffable Plan, which implies that Heaven and Hell might be going against God, and that he and Crowley (and Adam) might just under Her protection, and would give Crowley and himself an out if only their bosses were flexible/good enough to see reason.

When it works and Armageddon IS actually avoided, he greets Gabriel coolly and unwieldingly while Crowley tries out a sycophantic (and fabulous) grovelling bow.

He has Taken A Stand and he’s not moving. For all that he frets and wiggles, he’s the guardian; constant, secure with a steady, certain inner moral compass that is much too good and intelligent to constantly align with Heaven. Crowley is the snake; wiley, slippery, flighty, constantly moving (and I mean that in the best way, I love Crowley as much as Aziraphale).

He grounds Crowley. When Crowley is finally giving up, saying goodbye to Aziraphale, refuses to give up, knowing exactly how to get Crowley moving again - pulling out another card in his… infinite variety… of ways to surprise and touch and steady the demon.

Morally, it’s like that old philosophy conundrum, the trolley problem with more heartbreak: If you could only save one, would you save your loved one or a group of strangers? When push comes to shove, Aziraphale cannot let himself throw the random bunch of strangers to the wolves, choosing his own unhappiness over the unhappiness of humanity. Add to that the fact that avoiding the Apocalypse is also the only long-term way to possibly save Crowley their relationship. (TV) Crowley is more concerned with saving Aziraphale and himself. Not a bad instinct; a very human one, in fact. His world IS Aziraphale, he moves around the angel, grounds himself in him. Aziraphale’s own happiness and well-being is contingent on Crowley being in the world, but he is willing to sacrifice that to save the actual world. He IS committed to Crowley, it’s just that Crowley can’t be in Aziraphale’s world if the world doesn’t exist. Aziraphale might owe Crowley an apology for throwing him under the cart for this, but he’s a damn good person/being and a really damn good angel.

I was gonna tie this down better to this thought I’ve been thinking a lot, but this got so long that Imma just gesture vaguely towards it, it’s not hugely related to the events of Armageddon: Aziraphale has to be constantly selfless everywhere except for with Crowley. He gets to be selfish in his relationship with the demon. Crowley, on the other hand, can only ever be allowed to be selfless and good through his relationship with the angel. Aziraphale being selfish allows gives Crowley a space to be giving and loving (in whatever way) and kind.

I know there are already lots of lovely fics out there exploring these things in profound and beautiful ways, but I got started on this essay journey, and I was damned if I wasn’t gonna finish it too.

So *sniffs* yeah.

[new-endings]

it’s a gray day; have a whumpy wip.

(reverse omens; raphael is an archangel, living under the guise of crowley, a lower tier angel; azira is the poor demon that raphael lied to for 6 millennia and got his heart broken upon learning the truth) 

takes place at the bus stop after armageddon: 

---

Azira flinches when Raphael— appearing this time as Crowley— approaches.

Raphael opens his mouth, trying to get a word in, but Azira won't let him.

"You shouldn't be here."

Crowley— no...Raphael pauses. It's the same words he greets the demon whenever he shows a little too much enthusiasm at spending time with the angel. 

"They'll come for you, if they knew your involvement. You may be an archangel, but you'll be outnumbered."

"I don't give a damn about that!" Raphael automatically retorts.

For the first time since his arrival, the demon turns to look at him. "Since when?" Azira asks evenly.

This time, it’s Raphael that flinches. He always used that excuse to avoid getting closer to the demon, the excuse to stave off those feelings that have been brewing since the beginning of humanity.

What will my superiors say when they find one of their own fraternising with a demon?

Words he threw out so carelessly before, but Azira had always been undeterred, always saying that he'll be sure to be careful.

(he never was, hence why Raphael had to lie and say he was only manipulating the demon for Heaven’s benefit)

He’ll make it up to him. He will. "Since now," Raphael says, sitting next to him on the bench.

His heart aches when Azira stills before inching away from him. "There's no need. What's done is done. They don't need to punish both of us."

"I won't let you suffer alone— "

"You don't need to be here, Raphael." 

That word, that name, doesn’t sound right coming from Azira's mouth. It was always Crowley. He was always Azira's Crowley.

But Azira's not done. "You have what you want and I have what I want. Perhaps it's time to end this little arrangement—"

"What," Raphael grabs him by the arm, heart splintering when Azira looks at him with fright. "What do you mean—"

"The hellfire. It's yours. And I—" Azira swallows. "I have my earth. I may not have long to enjoy it but—"

"Then come with me,” Raphael pleads. "I'll protect you, I've always—"

"No," Azira gasps. "No, I don't— I'll be fine on my own."

"Azira, no, we both know—"

"Yes, yes, I know, I've always depended on you to keep me safe, isn't that right? Well, it's a damn good thing I'll no longer be your burden to bear!"

"Burden?" Raphael breathes out. Where is this coming from? 

"It's a fine thing you did, hiding your name, hiding your power, hiding your intentions all this time. I know I wouldn't have the patience to pull it off."

"My intentions—"

"Were to manipulate a demon, isn't that right? Gather intel for Heaven?"

The realization sinks in. His demon overheard him and misunderstood. "Azira, wait—"

"I'm no longer of any use to you. When they bring me back, it will be to my execution." He turns to Raphael, the warm, firebright glow that always used to shine when the demon looked at him, dulled to dying embers. "I don't have much time. Please, let me go."

"You're mad if you think I intend on letting you go—I'm telling you, I can protect you! I won't let them hurt you, you know that—"

"By what? hiding me away? Do you have a cozy little prison waiting for me in Heaven where Gabriel can torture me for more information with the bloody Sound of Music—"

Raphael's growing frustrated; time's running out and—he's never had Azira deny him before. Not like this. Not even with the hellfire. "Do you honestly think I’d do that to you!?" Raphael's grip on Azira's arm is beginning to hurt and the demon whimpers under the force. "How long have you known me, Azira? I would never—"

"I don't," Azira gasps, prying his arm from Raphael's grip and scrambling away from him in a panic. "I don't know who you are."

Raphael's heart breaks. "It's me. Yes, I lied about my name and my position in Heaven but that's all—Azira, I swear to you! I lied to the others so they wouldn't suspect a thing when they saw us together—"

"So you lied about being worried that your superiors might catch you?!"

"Azira!" Raphael knows he should be apologizing, begging for forgiveness, but he can't stand that look of contempt on his demon's face, not when that face had only ever shown him warmth and happiness when they were together.

"I loved him, did you know that?" Azira breathes out, eyes wet.

Something ugly twisted in Raphael's chest at the admission. "Who?"

Who is he? who stole your heart after all this time? After I thought you had only wanted mine?

"Crowley," Azira says, tears streaking down his face.

Raphael’s heart stops. "Azira..." A delirious warmth spread throughout his chest. Raphael wants to gather the demon in his arms, kiss him until the tears stopped and kiss him more after that. "I'm here, Azira, please— I lo—"

"But he was a lie too, wasn't he?"

that’s all i have so far. 

the idea i had in my head was a reverse!omens with a demon aziraphale and an archangel raphael who lives on earth under the alias of crowley

the gist of the whumps is that azira fell and fell hard for crowley and crowley....cared about him (this is really a reversal) and only learned to love him much later on—

only for aziraphale to realize that the person he fell in love with is a lie.

crowley never existed. only an archangel who lied to him for millennia

it's the reverse of Good Omens too in that azira is very open in his adoration and (giant) crush on crowley, but crowley always played it off, at first believing that— well azira's a demon so that's a no-go, but also later on when he does start admitting to himself that he cares for the demon a lot more, he ALSO puts the barrier up because... he knows now that he's putting the demon he genuinely cares about in danger by being with him

later on, when they have an argument over hellfire (crowley wants it as insurance; he may be powerful, but so are the other archangels), crowley calls their tentative whatever it is "fraternising" and it honestly breaks azira's heart 

like poor azira, he genuinely thinks that maybe there's a chance that he could be more than just good company to have, someone the angel can converse with over wine about topics that he can't with other humans—

but it's there that azira gets this feeling that crowley...might just be using him. 

it. hurts.

but azira's in love and has been in love for so long, and against himself, he gives crowley the hellfire anyways. he leaves it there, warming the cold, barren hearth of crowley's apartment

in the attempts at botching the Armageddon, azira misplaced the antichrist. crowley's furious, not really at the demon, no, but azira's right there and a target of the archangel's panic and ire

azira recommends that they run off together and crowley scoffs at the idea

in crowley's mind, he knows that he won't be able to protect them both this time. he won't be able to fend off the other archangels who not only want his blood, but his demon's as well

crowley needs a plan and needs it fast. and— he can't have azira flubbing it this time

((raphael, obviously stronger than azira, has spent maaany millennia saving the demon. weird, it's almost the spoilt thing wants to be rescued))

he tells azira to leave and go home; he already made a mess of things as it is and that he'll call azira if he needs something

((further cementing the feeling azira has that crowley is only using him))

heartbroken, azira leaves but not before finding the book of prophecy the witch-girl left after crowley, in his panic-stricken mind, actually ran over (she was okay; azira made sure she survived) he goes through it, poring over it and understanding the prophecies and goes to crowley to show him what he's found out— show him that he's not just a burden—

only to sense the powerful presence of several archangels

azira panics— what if they found out what crowley was up to? what if they take him, or worse, punish him for trying to avert armageddon?

he hides his presence (a neat little trick he picked up; very useful when following the trail of the angel you love) and listens in on the conversation and nearly has a heart attack when crowley drops the façade and shows his form, his true form, the archangel raphael

heartbreak 1: crowley lied to him. in fact, worse: crowley was the lie himself. the being that azira loved and cherished never existed

heartbreak 2: the archangels are talking to Raphael about the demon that he was supposedly 'manipulating' in order to gain intel (a lie Raphael came up with so that they wouldn't be suspicious about why he was hanging around a demon so much); of course, azira believes them and understands, truly, that he was just being toyed with from the start

heartbreak 3: Raphael sounds like he's all for war (he's not; he's playing the role the archangels expect him to) ready to eradicate the legions of hell and bring an end to this miserable world (the world azira loves, the world where he feels he belongs, the world where he fell in love and almost believed himself to have a chance at being loved in return)

azira leaves and vows to fix things

he doesn't need crowley, raphael, whoever— he is

he'll stop armageddon himself if he needs to

azira goes to track down the boy himself using the prophecies from the witch's book meanwhile, raphael is panicking; the plans are underway and even speaking to the metatron doesn't give him access to speak to God— his last-ditch effort

he thinks back to azira's stupid suggestion—that they run off together—and a part of him is desperate enough to believe that even prolonging their demise would be enough.

he can't—won't fight azira in the battlefields. and he'll slay his own kin if they so much as raise a sword to his demon

he's calling azira's bookshop but there's no answer. he goes there himself and finds it engulfed in flames

hell has found his demon and raphael gives up all hope

it’s azira that finds Adam and is the one to single-handedly convince him to stop armageddon, that he doesn't need to be a slave to this supposed destiny of his

meanwhile, crowley watches on, stunned—that his demon is alive and—actually competent?

raphael wants to be there, wants to stand by azira's side so badly

he knows he has a lot to explain, a lot to apologize for, over 6,000 years of lies and deceit but it's that look in azira's eyes from across the tadfield air base that stops raphael in his tracks.

fear

azira is afraid…of him

armageddon is averted all thanks to a demon that loved this world more than anything and no thanks to an archangel who would have committed treason to save the demon he loved

[mostfacinorous]

GO Whumptober Day 14: Is Something Burning?  [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13]

They came for them later, though by how much, neither of them could guess. The empty void of Purgatory was neither the cramped, chaotic darkness of hell nor the spacious and organized brightness of heaven, but a swirling dull greyness with no definition at all. Nothing seemed to hold onto its shape, save the two of them, and, Aziraphale suspected, that was only because they alone were there in physical corporations. 

He would bet that if they’d been placed there in spirit form, they would have been pulled apart and dispersed like just so much more fog. 

It was horrific, and didn’t bear thinking about. 

When a section of the fog slid away, revealing the elevator that would return them to earth-- or send them to Heaven or Hell, Aziraphale climbed to his feet and pulled at Crowley’s coat, pointing mutely. 

The conversation hadn’t ended, per say, merely trailed off several times as they grew thirsty and had nothing to drink, or spoke in circles, or let the fear of the future overtake their minds until they had to stop lest they inflict their imaginations on one another. 

Crowley stood as well, and flinched as the shapes in the elevator became clear. 

The Archangel Gabriel stood there, but beside him was Lord Beelzebub. 

This could only spell trouble for the both of them. 

“We could stay.” Aziraphale offered, even as he began straightening out his clothing. 

“Nah. Might as well get whatever this is over with.” 

“Quickly please!” Gabriel yelled, unhelpfully. “This damp is depressing enough without having to watch you dither.” 

Resigned, they approached the door, stepping out of purgatory and back into the somewhat equally neutral, but more appealingly defined elevator. 

“So.” Gabriel said, looking altogether smug and folding his hands. “It seems there’re some things you’ve been keeping from us, Aziraphale. Nice little jaunt to hell-- slaying a demon in battle?” 

Aziraphale gulped audibly. 

“Yes, well, it was a bit of a long story, and I meant to put it in my report, but--”

“And you.’ Beelzebub turned their attention on Crowley, and he lifted his chin, once again quaking in his not-quite-boots. “Aiding in the escape of an angel?” 

Crowley shrugged. 

“Seemed the thing to do at the time?” He offered weakly. 

“As you’ve both proven yourselves traitors, and as you haven’t fallen--”

“And you can’t fall again…”

“And technically Hell started it…” Gabriel shot an almost fondly annoyed look in Beelzebub’s direction. 

“And we can’t kill you, yet-- apparently you both factor into some Plans. So you will return to your posts. With one exception-- you will be marked.”

Crowley saw Aziraphale’s usually rosy cheeks pale. 

“What, again?” Crowley asked, reaching up to trace the tattoo at his temple. 

“Oh, not like that. Rather, you’ll be in Gabriel’s hands, and I’ll have the Angel to myself. We’ve already agreed on the design.”

“But-- but surely, if God herself doesn’t see cause to punish us--”

“The Metatron says you just aren’t worth Her time.” Gabriel cut in smoothly. “So it’s up to us to create a reasonable solution. And this is it: We’re going to brand you as traitors, straight through your physical bodies and onto your immortal souls.” 

“Wha-- how do you plan to do that?” Crowley asked, nervous. 

“Holy water and hellfire.” Beelzebub answered with relish. “Respectively, of course.” 

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Two chairs sat opposite one another. 

Beside one was a bucket, beside the other was a flame. 

From here, they could see a single poker between them. 

Crowley felt his stomach fall out. 

“Just a little burn, then it’ll be done.” Aziraphale muttered. 

“Oh, I imagine it’ll hurt more than that.” Gabriel told him cheerfully, as he began rolling up his sleeves. “Crawley, you’re with me.” 

Crowley shot one last, quick glance in Aziraphale’s direction, shrugged, and followed, inwardly panicking and trying not to hyperventilate. 

He settled into the seat, and saw Aziraphale doing the same. They were aimed to face one another-- to see each other get branded. 

“Who wants to go first?” Beelzebub asked, rubbing their hands together excitedly. 

“I will.” Aziraphale volunteered, voice calm and cool, eyes locked on Crowley’s. 

Crowley licked his lips and winced as the poker was put into the flames. It glowed white hot in only moments, and then Beelzebub pulled away Aziraphale’s collar and pushed his head forward, the brand searing through the skin on the back of his neck. 

From here, Crowley could hear the sound of it, smell the skin and hair being burnt. He jolted forward, his first impulse to go to him, to try to help, but Gabriel took hold of his shoulder and shoved him back and into the chair.

Aziraphale let out a gutteral scream that stayed locked behind his gritted teeth as long as possible, and only when it finally broke through and left his throat was it over. 

Beelzebub walked away from him and toward Crowley, dropping the hot brand in the bucket of Holy water. 

“All yours.” They said, with a too sharp smile. 

Crowley looked up at Gabriel, licked him lips, and tried a smile of his own. 

“Can I at least see the design first?” He asked. 

Gabriel pulled out the poker and held it up for Crowley to see. 

“On you, it’s gonna be a halo over a pitchfork-- you putting an angel before your own kind. On him, we inverted it-- a pitchfork stabbing a halo. Proof that you’re both traitors, and you’ll never be able to heal it or wipe it away.” 

Crowley nodded; it was fitting, not something he’d have picked, of course, but-- 

He heard the poker dipping back into the pot and leaned forward on his own, baring the back of his neck. 

He bit his lip, closed his eyes-- 

--screamed

--and passed out.

[perhapsitmaybedragons]

God’s A Right Bastard But Then So Am I Chapter 3

Ok, still getting writing done. This is bizarre for me.

As always, either click here to read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633029/chapters/65053045

Or keep reading below:

“I have no idea what to do,” Anathema admitted after Adam unloaded all of his fears on her. He was supposed to be in school right now, but he'd got on his bike to go then doubled back to get to Jasmine Cottage. He hadn't even told the Them he was going.

“But you're a witch, and an adult! You must have some ideas. Turn me into a frog or something, that way I can't hurt anyone,” he shut his eyes tight, “I'll turn myself into one, that's what I'll do. And you can put me in one of those aquarium box things and Wensley will take care of me. Just until it's all over.”

Nothing happened.

“I can't turn you into a frog,” Anathema said gently. “And I don't know why your powers didn't go away. But Adam, last time you chose not to do anything bad. You came back from it and you didn't destroy the world. Why don't you think you can beat it again?”

“Last time didn't feel as scary,” he struggled to find the right words. “Last time it started with knowing I could change things the way I want them, but this time I can still make things happen but it feels like they're happening to me instead of because of me. I've been trying not to do any of the things the other Them can't, but they happen anyway even if I don't try to make them. I rode my bike over to Mr. Aziraphale's the other day, and it only took me-”

“Ten minutes,” Anathema and Newt finished for him.

“Yes, we'd noticed,” Newt admitted. “Us too. When we went for the surprise party for Crowley, only ten minutes driving.”

“I didn't mean to,” Adam said earnestly. Newt put a hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He'd always liked when his mother had done it to him, but he felt somehow that he wasn't doing it correctly.

“Do you think we should tell Crowley and Aziraphale?” Newt suggested. “They're a bit closer to all of this then the rest of us. They might be able to help?”

“It's worth a try,” Anathema agreed. “But Adam, aren't you supposed to be in school right now?”

“This was more important,” he said insistently. “It couldn't wait, I swear.”

Anathema was no fan of the school system anyway, so she didn't fight him. Newt looked uncomfortable, though. “All right. Well, we'll just get on over to the bookshop and see what Aziraphale thinks.”

 It's a lie to say that no one knows the innermost thoughts of God. Whales have been trying to tell humans for ages, but humans just record the lovely whale songs and use them to try to get themselves a better night of sleep. Cats know, but have decided that humans wouldn't be able to handle it. Dogs know, but they keep getting too distracted to come out with it.

Humans sometimes can come close to it, but they've never quite gotten there.

The ones least able to fathom the mind of the Almighty these days were the uppermost echelons of angels. Gabriel, Micheal, Sandalphon, even the voice of God, the Metatron, were all puzzled that the Great Plan hadn't gone off as they'd always expected. Despite Aziraphale's insistence that they should realize it was the Ineffable Plan, they had gotten it into their heads that Crowley and Aziraphale had managed to undo all of God's careful planning.

“Don't know how they managed it,” Gabriel grumbled yet again as he swapped out his pearl tailored jacket for a pure white one. “Has anyone been able to get through to Her?”

Everyone shook their heads. “I HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO REACH HER. I HAVE NOT BEEN ASKED TO SPEAK FOR HER.” The Metatron responded.

“What do you think it could mean?” Michael asked. They were sitting in an upper board room in heaven. It was so high up that the only view out of the perfectly clear windows was clouds. Gabriel was the only one standing (if one does not count The Metatron, who could only project his head – though even that was floating above an office chair).

“We have to consider that somehow those two may have figured out how to cut us all off from God,” he put his arms behind his back as he paced, thinking aloud. “We know She knows all, and She is above being corrupted. But Her not answering us, her most ..beloved and devoted? No, those two did something, I'm sure of it.”

“But how could they have?”Uriel shook her head. “That doesn't seem possible.”

“An angel surviving hell fire and a demon surviving holy water wasn't supposed to be possible either,” he slammed his hands down on the table. “We have to continue with the plan as we've decided, even if we do have to work with,” he paused to shudder, “demons.” He spat the word out.

“I just don't know,” Uriel tried again. “I agree the world should have come to an end, but how can we be certain we're doing the right thing? Demons can't be trusted.”

Michael leaned forward in her chair and put a hand on Uriel's shoulder. “We can be sure because God is all knowing. She knows what we're up to. If She didn't want us to be doing this, She would already be stopping us, wouldn't she?”

   The hills are alive with the sound of music

“I am going to break this stupid thing,” Crowley glared at the gramophone, knowing what was coming next.

Everything went all right, Crowley?

“Why are you even asking me? You already know, don't you?”

Yes, but I don't want to show off. Getting you close to see it for yourself should have removed any doubt I was lying to you.

“You're God, you don't lie. You just play games with the universe, right?” He set his feet up on the coffee table and leaned himself back on his couch. “One that only you know the rules for.”

I can't tell you the names of the riders.

“What, is it going to be some big surprise? If you give me the names maybe I could do something about them before this all goes down again. Is Adam going to be involved?”

Yes, he is. And you may be about to suggest that you kill him, but we both know you're too fond of him for that. And that it isn't your thing to kill children.

“Yeah, I've been wanting to talk to you for a while about that flood you only saved Noah and his family from, by the way-”

We don't have time. Not now. And before you say that I am God and therefore not bound by the laws of time, that is true, but I need you to act and you are bound by those laws, even if it is by less than the average human or even demon. Took you a lot of power to stop time to help Adam out, right?

“You know, I got cast out just for asking questions. Why do you get to ask so many? Especially the kind you know the answer to?”

He waited for an answer, but none was coming. While waiting, his eyes fell on the box with Agnes's prediction. Sighing, he grabbed the box and opened, only to find a small index card with the words:

“Be not afraid, even when dragons bane is brandished by thine enemy. A new revelation awaits ye.”

“Well, lovely sentiment there, Agnes, but fat lot of help,” he tossed the card down, not even bothering to pick it up when it fell on the floor. “Always hated the book of Revelations. Worst book of the whole Bible, if you ask me.”

I'm not fond of the book of Job myself, God offered.

“Why do you only talk through the gramophone? Hell uses the radio, it's a lot more efficient. Or you could...I don't know, text? You're the Almighty, surely you didn't use up all your imagination creating thousands of types of beetles?”

I have allowed Gabriel and the others to set up the rules of contact between myself and anyone who isn't an angel. I can only contact a demon like yourself through something Heaven touched, or they would be alerted.

“You mean because Aziraphale made some changes to this thing you're allowed to talk to me through it without it going on their radar?” He groaned. “If I'd known that I'd have given him the damn thing back! Does Aziraphale know about that rule?”

Probably. He's the only one who reads all of the notices that get sent out from Heaven. And reads through all of the Terms of Agreements for electronic devices. But he wouldn't expect me to contact you, and probably wouldn't expect you to answer me.

“Yeah, well, you've insisted that he and I are at risk if I don't, so I don't have much choice there anyway, do I? What's the next job?”

I need you to go to Heaven.

“Oh, ok, you want me to commit suicide,” he kicked at the table, just hard enough to jostle the gramophone without tossing it off. “Aziraphale could go in with less trouble-”

Not after his trial he couldn't. And he'll want to talk to the others to see if there's some way to work out a peaceful resolution. My will has been done by the angels since before time began, but that means they know all the loopholes. If I speak to an angel, any of them, there are records. Same if I talk to humans, those are recorded as prayer.

“But you don't talk to demons and the angels see us as so low they never considered you'd want to talk to one of us,” Crowley finished for her. Most demons didn't have an imagination, but that made it sound like angels did. But rather, angels could only imagine things where they inevitable came out on top with humans just below them and demons much further down. “But you could still tell me what do do.”

I am telling you as I need to tell you, Crowley. Have faith.

With songs they have song for a thousand years

“Have faith She says,” he grimaced, getting himself up from the couch to pour himself several glasses of wine. “Wants me to break into heaven and have 'faith'” He poured the first glass, downed it, then went directly for the bottle rather than pour more. He pulled out his phone to start to dial Aziraphale and then put it back down, cursing himself and God for this one.

“I'll tell him when it's all over. Provided we all survive it this time,” he chugged the rest of the bottle, opened a new bottle and drank that, too. He went back to the couch with a 3rd bottle and sat down, grabbing the card from Agnes off the floor. “Well, Agnes, I am already not following your advice because I am well and truly afraid and I can't even warn the others about how shit-pantsingly terrified they should be.” He drank the last bottle and curled up and fell asleep.