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actual-changeling · 6 months

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y'all already know i'm about to present you with angst based on this post so without further ado, here you go. these bitches always end up way longer than i plan. thank you to @createserenity for putting this scene into my head

He is about to leave. His palm is pressed against the door, already pushed open enough for the noise of the street to slip into the dusty silence of the bookshop. 'I forgive you' is echoing around his head as if someone had turned it into a bell and hit it with a hammer, every vibration another flash of needle-sharp pain.

Crowley should most definitely leave.

But.

There's always a but with him, with them, and he wouldn't have it any other way. So, with one last sigh and a prayer to no one that he won't regret it, he drops his hand and watches the door drift shut with a tiny, fading tinkle. Behind him, barely contained sobs are escaping Aziraphale despite his best attempts, and if his heart weren't already broken, it would shatter now. They're just as good as hurting each other as they are at loving, but somehow the former is the only reality they are ever allowed to experience.

Crowley turns back around, and, fuck it all, he might as well take his glasses off, too. After this, there is nothing to hide anymore, not really.

In the aggressively cheerful rays of sunlight shining through the windows, the tears gathered along Aziraphale's waterline glint like tiny sapphires and break up the stormy hyacinth of his irises. He blinks once, twice, and they carve a wet path along the lines of his face as he allows his tears to drip from his jaw. Crowley inhales, shaky, nervous, angry, and so, so desperately in love, and barely feels the sting of his own tears as they roll down his cheeks.

The question in Aziraphale's eyes is simple yet impossible to answer.

Still, he knows why he turned around, and even after everything has been said, there is one sentence—three words—that he needs him to hear. Something to erase 'I forgive you' from both their memories before it festers and grows thorns like particularly mean poison ivy, ripping them apart from the inside out.

"Crowley?"

Hope. There is a spark of hope in Aziraphale's voice, and he has to bite back a low whimper of pain - he cannot leave now, can't even look away. Tremors run through his hands, causing his glasses to clink together, and before rational thought can set in, he drops them to the floor. This is a horrible idea; he already screwed them up, left, came back because Aziraphale asked him to, kissed him, left again - and now he came back all on his own.

Because-

"I love you."

All the air leaves his lungs, the confession is carried by a sigh, and the tears begin streaming down his face in earnest, hot enough to burn like acid. Aziraphale freezes, and for a second Crowley is worried he accidentally stopped time, but then his fingers twitch, his mouth opens, and he can hear the breath he sucks in like a drowning man.

"I love you," he says again, because now it is the only thing he can say, and Aziraphale presses his fingertips against his lips with something akin to reverence.

"Do that again," Aziraphale whispers into the unfurling silence, words muffled by his hand, but Crowley understands them nevertheless.

"Do that again, please, right now."

This time, they're both moving, their bodies drawn to each other by the same gravity that has been at their centre while they have been orbiting each other for millennia. Warmth, heat, salt, iron, and touch-touch-touch—their world narrows down to the glide of tear-slick lips and hands grasping for anything they can hold onto.

Crowley cups his face, allowing his palms to slide along his cheeks until he can bury his fingers in his hair, and he kisses him the way he has always wanted to kiss him—breathless and urgent, and with every heartbeat screaming, iloveyou over and over.

Pulling him in as tightly as inhumanly possible, Aziraphale slings one arm around his waist and the other around his neck, cupping the back of his head and scratching his nails over his scalp. His mouth opens for an airless moan, and in the tiny break, their eyes fly open, gold meeting aquamarine as the colours of the world seemingly flow apart. Nothing matters except the twin thrum of their hearts.

"I love you," Aziraphale gasps, choking on his breath and turning it into a sob. "I love you, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Crowley, I love you too."

They fall back into the kiss, their cheeks wet with tears, and there is no telling whether they are tears of joy or regret, anger or forgiveness. Within seconds, though, all of that stops mattering, too.

Unable to resist, Crowley leans back just enough to dart his tongue out to taste them, peppering tiny, fluttering kisses along his jaw, still crying.

"I know," he breathes, pressing their temples together and nudging against him until their foreheads meet. "I know, angel. I love you."

It does not fix them. It doesn't fix anything, but right now, neither of them cares. They need the time, want the time, and Crowley inhales the taste of love from Aziraphale's lips and gives them as long as they need and more; no one, not even God, can break his hold on reality.

Not when it means he gets to kiss Aziraphale againagainagain.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #do that again #good omens kiss #im sorry i had to put that in there too #had to go all the fucking way <3

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grntaire · 8 months

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good omens is an allegory for queer deconstruction from an abusive fundamentalist religious environment.

i've talked about it on here ad nauseum, probably, but i haven't fleshed my thoughts out on it fully. this has been my interpretation since season 1, and season 2 just solidified it for me. so here goes.

it's about the choice that all queer people in an environment like this have to make, and both choices suck and end with loss.

choice 1: stay with your church community, your friends, your family, the world you've always known, but never be true to yourself. because they will never fully accept you if you are true to yourself.

choice 2: embrace your queerness, live your authentic life, and leave it all behind. you're torn from everything you've ever known, everyone you've ever loved. but it's what you have to do to be happy. aziraphale is stuck between choices. crowley never had a choice. his was made for him.

heaven are the church elders. the protectors. the ones who say they have your and god's best interest in mind, always. they don't. to them, hell are the blasphemers, who are both unworthy of redemption yet can only be saved by it. they are the arbiters of what is good and right and bad and wrong.

aziraphale's story is one of both learned faith and earned faith. learned, in that he's been indoctrinated his whole life. been to church at least twice a week since birth. earned, in that he's seen the good that the church can do–they feed the hungry, shelter the unhoused. how could people who do such good be capable of cruelty? and surely, when they are cruel, there must be some greater good to come out of it?

crowley was faithful once, too. he loved god. loved church. but he knew he was queer from a young age, and asked questions about it. not because he wanted to make trouble, but because he wanted to understand. to understand why something he knew about himself to be so innately true could be wrong. but the church didn't see it as that–they saw the embodiment of sin, questioning them. their authority, their virtuosity, the fibre of what holds their organization together, and he was cast out. was kicked out of his home, alienated from his family, his friends, his community. he fell. and he now sees the church for what it truly is.

as for aziraphale, he's accepted the fact that he's queer, but had faith that his elders had his best interest at heart when they spewed homophobic ideology. he never believed the ideology, not really, but he had to believe (made himself believe) that the people who spread it meant well. that they meant it out of kindness, out of protecting queer people from damnation. he wanted to believe that not everyone in the church was like this, that not everyone in the church thought all queer people are inherently people of sin. that is, until a mentor, someone he trusts, perpetuates it too. he's had moments in his past that chipped away at his faith: he'd stayed friends, or whatever you want to call it, with crowley, and crowley had tempted him into trying new things that the church wouldn't approve of. things that aziraphale loved. but this moment with his mentor is when his faith is truly shaken. it's the beginning of his active deconstruction.

and so he leaves. he leaves and finds crowley and they build a semblance of a life together with what they have. they're happy. he's learning that he doesn't need to go to church to be holy. that he doesn't need to be holy to be happy. that he's allowed to indulge in the things he loves without guilt and shame.

that is, until that mentor shows up at his doorstep, offering him everything he's ever wanted. insinuates that he knows him and crowley aren't just friends, and assures him that they can come back to church together. that they're going to change things in the church, and that aziraphale can help. that they need aziraphale to help. (they don't. they want a pious gayboy to help repair their image. it's performative activism at its finest). aziraphale is being offered his family, his community, everything back, and crowley can come too. preying on his wants and desires, manipulating him back into their control. so of course he says yes. they'll get to be together with everything they've ever known and aziraphale doesn't have to make a choice between losses anymore. (deconstruction isn't linear, and abuse is cyclical.)

but crowley makes it for him. crowley tells him no. he doesn't want that life and doesn't want to go back to those people who hate him so much. who hate them so much. crowley knows what the church is about and sees it for what it is. they're not about god, or moral good or doing what's right. all they want is control. it's about the optics of the organization. it's about influencing what serves them and their agenda, and crowley knows that aziraphale is just a pawn to them. ("Why would we go back to them, when they think that who we are is wrong? Is vile? They think us the embodiment of sin and you want to go help them with their PR campaign?")

but aziraphale doesn't know that, can't know it, and crowley can't make him see it. (aziraphale knows that they cast crowley out, that he was kicked out of his home. crowley never shared with him about what happened after. the nights on the street, the things he'd endured to survive.)

and so crowley kisses him. he kisses him to tell him not that he loves him, because of course he does. he kisses him to tell him "This is what you leave behind. We would never be able to do this there, to be this there, even if they say we could. Our lives are here, our safety is here. this is what you're giving up."

crowley has been through it and experienced their cruelty firsthand. aziraphale won't be able to see it until he experiences it, too. he won't be able to realize he's being played if he doesn't even know that there's a game happening in the first place.

i can't recommend watching the show through this lens enough. it makes aziraphale's story that much more heartbreaking, because there's this intense duality of indoctrination vs. deconstruction that lives within him constantly. (imo it's also the main difference between book aziraphale and tv aziraphale: book aziraphale is significantly further along in his deconstruction journey. it's why he's a bit more of a bastard. tv aziraphale is set back a bit further, which sets up his deconstruction arc beautifully across three seasons.)

it's why aziraphale has the ability to peel back layers of himself and his train of thought depending on the situation at hand–he literally has two trains of thought happening at once. the indoctrinated one, and the deconstructed one.

and when crowley kisses him, it's the first time in his existence that both trains of thought have been that present simultaneously. it's both trains colliding full speed with each other. it's why we see both livid, hesitant frustration and fierce passion and longing at once. it forced him to confront something that lived so deeply within himself that he wanted to bring to light on his own terms, but crowley was desperate. the kiss wasn't i love you, please stay. it was look at what you're leaving behind. we could've been us, we could've been this.

and i think that whatever happens in season 3, whatever heaven does that makes them finally irredeemable in aziraphale's eyes, it'll be a beautiful ending to his deconstruction arc. not that deconstruction ever ends, not truly, but for the first time in his existence, he'll be able to see heaven, hell, and the system as a whole clearly for what they are: a bunch of self-righteous dicks.

[if you're curious about religious deconstruction and what it means, this video by therapist and social worker mickey atkins talking about deconstruction in reference to shiny happy people, a documentary about the duggar family, is a good place to start. cw for pretty much all types of abuse imaginable, fyi.]

#here is aforementioned meta post lmao #i feel like i can breathe lighter getting this out of my system #cw religious trauma #good omens #good omens meta #thoughts #neil gaiman

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anxiousgaypanicking · 3 months

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Aziraphale sweetly convincing Crowley to shrink down just so he can press kisses over him and show his love, and unintentionally managing to turn Crowley on in the process

Tiny Kisses

Warnings: micro/macro, oral play, overstimulation, unplanned exhibitionism, grinding, palming

"Crowley, dear, would you..." Aziraphale trails off, thumbing over a page in his book but not properly turning it, as though he'd been staring at the words but not actually reading them. His mind was seemingly elsewhere.

He's sitting comfortably on his settee, with Crowley stretched out across from him, sitting improperly on a chair but looking otherwise relaxed. His head tilts towards Aziraphale in order to acknowledge him, but Aziraphale doesn't meet his eyes. Instead, he continues to fiddle with the paper before him, rubbing his fingers over it.

When Aziraphale doesn't elaborate further, Crowley raises an eyebrow.

"Would I what, angel?" he asks, a curious edge to his voice. He adjusts his position slightly, keeping his legs swung over the arm of the seat, but sitting up further in order to give Aziraphale his proper attention.

Aziraphale glances at Crowley, before sliding his reading glasses off and sucking in a deep breath.

"Do you remember Scotland?" Aziraphale asks, before clarifying "Edinburgh, 1827?"

Crowley grimaces. "How could I forget?"

What Aziraphale and Crowley were remembering were wildly different, as Aziraphale was thinking of the bottle of laudanum, while Crowley was thinking about being dragged down to hell while horribly intoxicated, and the bleary repercussions he faced after. Still, with the timeframe fresh in their minds, Aziraphale clears his throat.

"I assume you remember Elspeth," he begins, listening as Crowley hums in consideration, "and her... unsavory desires to... end her life prematurely."

"Mmm. Spritely one, she was."

"Spritely" was not how Aziraphale would describe her, but she was definitely interesting, and a learning experience for him. However, Aziraphale wasn't thinking of her.

"Do you remember the laudanum?"

Crowley presses his lips into a thin line. He's acting as though he's trying to recall it, but Aziraphale can see in his body language that Crowley already knows exactly what he's talking about.

Finally, Crowley shrugs. "I do."

"Great. Perfect." Aziraphale closes his book and sets it off to the side, smoothing his pants before folding his hands formally in his lap. Immediately, Crowley can sense a favor coming, and groans as he forces himself into a more proper position, face-to-face with Aziraphale.

"What do you want?" Crowley asks, getting ahead of the curve.

Aziraphale lets out a short, closed mouth laugh at the question, but still hesitates for a moment. It takes Crowley lowering his glasses to properly stare at Aziraphale curiously for Aziraphale to finally find his words.

"Back in Edinburgh, after drinking the laudanum, you shrunk. You grew, too, but that's not the point."

"I vaguely recall something like that happening. Your point?"

Aziraphale smiles. "Well... I was just wondering... would you consider shrinking again?"

Crowley's nose scrunches up into dramatic disgust, as he raises his glasses, shielding his narrowed eyes. "Now why would I do that?" he exclaims, in a mixture of surprise and exasperation. Aziraphale can see the shock on Crowley's face at the unexpected question, but he doesn't back down.

"I'd just like if you would," Aziraphale answers. He doesn't have a good reason, per se, but there was no harm in asking! "I promise, it'll be worth it. And you can always grow back right after."

Crowley frowns, deep and unimpressed, but stands up with a groan anyway, ever willing to please his angel. "Fine," he huffs, stuffing his upper half of his fingers into his tight pockets. "But don't think this'll be a common occurrence."

Looking rather stiff, Aziraphale watches with delighted eyes as Crowley's form quickly diminishes into a miniature version of itself, until he's just a little smaller than the palm of Aziraphale's hand. Aziraphale leans off the sofa to gently scoop him up, and Crowley lets him, getting lazily settled against Aziraphale's soft flesh and fat fingers.

He looks grumpy, as though he's been horribly inconvenienced, but softens quickly when Aziraphale smiles wide at him, clearly pleased that he listened.

Aziraphale's thumb then folds over Crowley's body, gently rubbing over his stomach and legs with the pad of his finger, petting him compassionately while still being considerably gentle.

"You look like a little doll," Aziraphale comments, quiet voice brimming with excitement. "I understand why you were so worried about accidentally being crushed in Scotland. You're so bijou."

Crowley scoffs at being equated to some tiny trinket, but chews the inside of his cheek in an attempt to mask his fluster.

Then, however, Aziraphale is moving his hand upwards so that Crowley is near his lips, and places the gentlest of kisses against him. He's oblivious to the way his lips completely envelop Crowley's figure, which has Crowley wiggling slightly at the feeling.

It's a quick kiss, pulling Crowley's breath from him as Aziraphale pulls away, licking his lips after with a soft smile. It was just a momentary thing, and yet Crowley's left speechless, any complaints he would have made about the affection actively dying on his tongue.

Crowley pants, before wiping his face as he breaths "now what was that all about?"

Aziraphale looks playfully guilty, before admitting "you looked rather kissable. It's hard to resist temptation, especially when it comes from you."

Crowley didn't even do anything. Nothing his angel hadn't asked of him, at least. And yet he feels his chest swell with pride and excitement at the words - at the idea he's tempting Aziraphale just by existing.

Aziraphale is planting another kiss to Crowley's frame before he even has the chance to recuperate from the first, leaving him breathless when Aziraphale pulls away once again. However, he's given little respite, as Aziraphale kisses him again, clearly confident in this display of affection, and still unaware of how red it's making Crowley's face.

The repeated pressing of Aziraphale's lips to his body do many things. It messes up his hair, skews his glasses to the side and smudges them, but humiliatingly enough it manages to arouse him.

Slowly - but growing more and more intense with each enveloping peck to his form - heat begins to spread through Crowley's body, arousal and excitement building intensely. Crowley is desperate to hide it from his angel, but doing such is nearly impossible with Aziraphale's lips sweetly jackhammering against him over and over again.

Aziraphale has no idea of the embarrassment of the situation.

Crowley is so small. He's completely at Aziraphale's disposal - lest he grow back right now and land either on Aziraphale's lap or on his back on the floor - and he feels such intensely. No way to stop the soft kisses, the pressure of his lips, the thin veil of spit that slowly soaks through his clothes and slicks through his hair.

He barely manages to knock his own glasses off and away (as they're already beyond saving, with his visibility being obscured by smeared saliva). He's truthfully just praying that Aziraphale remains oblivious to the obvious tent growing down below, though he's also realistically aware his tight pants will make this sort of thing painfully obvious.

Crowley knows he should make some excuse to grow back to normal, and try to side-step the situation before Aziraphale can wise up to his excitement, but he can't even get a word in inbetween the affection.

Aziraphale keeps kissing him for another minute or so, indulging in what to him is just a form of otherwise wholesome appreciation, before he pulls his head away. He looks down at Crowley, cupped within both of his hands to keep him safe as opposed to just the one, prepared to ask if it's okay he keeps going, only to quickly turn red when he notices Crowley's bulge.

Crowley, in turn, flushes under Aziraphale's gaze, and rushes to press his legs together.

However, Aziraphale's thumb slides over Crowley's body with a surprising mixture of confidence and curiosity, effortlessly spreading Crowley's thighs apart and pressing the pad of his finger over Crowley's bulge.

There's clear amusement in Aziraphale's eyes, and despite looking a bit flustered, he muses "well, it looks like you've enjoyed yourself quite a bit."

Crowley flushes darker, a lot more defensive as he insists "it's not my fault!" while actively trying to push Aziraphale's thumb away. Aziraphale doesn't even understand the effects he has on Crowley.

In turn, Aziraphale pushes his thumb more firmly against Crowley, watching as Crowley's small fingers dig into his flesh more desperately while his back arches, letting out a trembling moan at the slight friction against his crotch. To Aziraphale, he's barely moving his finger, but to Crowley, Aziraphale might as well have been roughly palming him.

"I was genuinely trying to be sweet," Aziraphale murmurs, "it's not my fault you're so... excitable."

Crowley narrows his eyes, looking grumpy. He squirms beneath Aziraphale's touches. "You were the one so insistent on doing this!" Crowley points out. "And you're the one furthering it!"

Aziraphale looks completely unbothered by Crowley's stammered defense, and quickly cuts him off with another gentle kiss surrounding his body yet again, before once again sliding his thumb slowly over Crowley's clothes, caressing his body from his chest to his groin.

"There's no reason to be so bitter, dear," Aziraphale softly chastises. "You're enjoying yourself, aren't you? Besides, I don't mind that you're so dirty minded."

Crowley's baffled, and can't tell if Aziraphale is messing with him, or being completely genuine in his reasoning that this is all Crowley's fault, but either way Aziraphale's words only arouse him further. So much so, that he looks almost shocked when Aziraphale pulls one of his hands away, rolling him fully into the palm of the other.

With his free hand, Aziraphale makes a quick motion with his pointer finger and uses a small miracle to instantly rid Crowley of those tight, pesky clothes.

This time, when Aziraphale places a kiss to Crowley's front, the tip of his tongue barely peeks out of his mouth and runs along his nude body, licking over his nipples, down his thin chest, and over his exposed cock.

Immediately, Crowley cries out in sensitivity at the feeling, spit glistening over his torso when Aziraphale pulls away, leaving his lithe form coated in saliva and burning with arousal and interest. His cock is hard and leaking pre, while Crowley lays back panting.

Aziraphale smiles down at him.

"You're like a little treat," he states, making Crowley frown. "Though, you obviously don't taste like cake or pastries." His thumb again runs over Crowley's body, making Crowley shudder as it traces over his nipples. "Admittedly, the temptation to swallow you up is rather prevalent!"

Crowley again scrunches his nose, pushing Aziraphale's thumb away yet again.

"You're just thinking about food," Crowley spits, adjusting his position ever so slightly. He's huffy that Aziraphale is equating him to a treat of sorts, but Aziraphale just licks his lips at the accusation.

He brings Crowley back up to his lips, placing a messier kiss to his body, before he shamelessly pulls Crowley's bottom half into his mouth. His legs to his waist are being teased by Aziraphale's tongue, with his midsection held firmly by his lips, and his hand behind Crowley to support his chest and head.

Crowley curses immediately, face aflame with humiliation and hands pushing against Aziraphale's lips in weak protest, but as Aziraphale's tongue drags over his cock, he quickly gives up. His arms fall limp at his sides, and instead he holds tightly to Aziraphale's fingers to ground himself as he moans.

"If you-" Crowley gasps, struggling to catch his breath between Aziraphale's firm licks to his lower half, "if you swallow me, I'll be discorporated!"

Aziraphale hums at the idea.

Of course, he'd never truly think of discorporating Crowley; he's much too fond of him to put him through the pain of excess paperwork. But the fact he could hangs in the air, similar to how Crowley hangs from Aziraphale's lips.

Whenever Crowley squirms too much, or tries to complain to cover his own embarrassment, Aziraphale focuses his licks over Crowley's messy cock, which quickly renders him speechless or causes him to cut of his words with a loud moan. He'll often arch his back or fall limp against Aziraphale's hand, only for Aziraphale to guide his tongue to Crowley's thighs or feet, causing Crowley to wiggle again.

And poor Crowley can feel his orgasm steadily building, heat swelling in his abdomen which he desperately tries to repress. They just started, after all! How pathetic would he look coming so soon? He's desperate to prolong this as much as possible, but Aziraphale makes it mighty difficult.

He tries to express such, even reasoning that Aziraphale hasn't pleasured himself at all, but Aziraphale just pulls Crowley out of his mouth completely and back into his hand, frowning at Crowley's constant insistence on talking.

"If you don't stop complaining, Crowley, I'll just have to shove you completely into my mouth," Aziraphale states, matter-of-factly. "That way I won't be able to hear it."

Crowley pants, lower-half drenched in Aziraphale's spit. He feels rather chilly as the air hits his moist skin. Despite the fact he was really just talking in an attempt to hold his orgasm back, Aziraphale seems to think he was still being grumpy about the entire ordeal. He was so small his voice hadn't reached Aziraphale's ears properly, more so just sounding like loud moans and unintelligible complaints.

Crowley's eyes flicker to Aziraphale's mouth, and shudders with a weird amount of delight at the idea of being pushed completely past his lips.

Sitting on his knees on Aziraphale's palm, Crowley tries to explain himself, knowing there's a chance Aziraphale will just disregard what he has to say anyway. He opens his mouth to start talking, sucking in a deep breath as he does so, watching Aziraphale look interested, and then like he's thinking of something else as Crowley purposefully slurs his words and talks quieter than necessary. He knows Aziraphale can hear him if he talks normally. So he wasn't going to talk normally.

As he speaks, Aziraphale brings Crowley back to his mouth, sliding his legs back past his lips and licking over them affectionately, only for him to quickly make due on his threat. He lets go of Crowley's upper half and tilts his head back, pulling Crowley fully into his mouth with a quick suck, and licking over him immediately.

He explores Crowley's body in its entirety, rolling him over easily so that Crowley's chest and cock presses against the wet muscle. He feels Crowley moving slightly, perhaps attempting to push himself up, only to slip and fall over and over. He hears muffled moans echoing within his cheeks, but in response Aziraphale just pins Crowley to the roof of his mouth with his tongue, gliding it over Crowley's body without a care until finally - finally - Crowley comes without warning.

A wet, garbled moan is all that comes out of him as Aziraphale holds him firmly while swallowing down the miniscule pool of semen, before Aziraphale's tongue settles back to the bottom of his jaw with Crowley laying panting atop it. He gives Crowley a brief respite, before slowly rolling his tongue out of his mouth, and gently plucking Crowley off of it.

Crowley's eyes flutter shut as he lets his head fall back, sucking in fresh air while it's available to him, before he's being gently laid against Aziraphale's pillowy thighs. More specifically, in front of Aziraphale's thick, hard cock.

Stammering, Crowley's eyes go wide when he sees it, blinking in surprise and fluster.

This hardly is even a new thing; his angel always overwhelms him with pleasure without meaning to, and then encourages him to keep going after, but it doesn't make this any less embarrassing.

It does mean he's not too shocked when Aziraphale gently nudges him, though, gently prodding him to "sit up," and petting through Crowley's slick hair with his thumb when he listens.

"How in the world did you manage to get so worked up from nothing?!" Crowley asks in disbelief, wiping some of Aziraphale's spit from his face.

Aziraphale smiles, cheeks pink. "I told you to stop making such lewd noises," he states, as though blaming his arousal on Crowley. He quickly admits afterwards, though "I just couldn't help myself while playing with you. It would have been torturous to leave myself untouched. That'd just be more work for you, after all!"

When Crowley shoots Aziraphale a questioning look, he's gently pushed closer to Aziraphale's shaft.

"You'll help, won't you dear?"

"At this size?" Crowley exclaims. "If I grew back, maybe, but what could I possibly do when I'm just a couple inches tall?!"

Again, Aziraphale smiles, and then Crowley feels his soft hand against his back, slowly moving him forward until Crowley's front is pushed practically completely against Aziraphale's cock. Aziraphale keeps his hand cupped and Crowley in place, but otherwise doesn't move him any further, waiting to see if Crowley will understand his implications. Just what is he willing to do to please Aziraphale at such a tiny size?

Crowley sort of freezes at first, before hesitantly attempting to wrap his arms around Aziraphale's girth. Due to his size, he can hardly get his arms around it, but that doesn't seem to matter, as when he squeezes them slightly Aziraphale groans, and rewards him by pushing him a bit harder against the length.

"Good boy, Crowley," Aziraphale breathes, voice ever so soft. Hearing the praise, Crowley flushes and glances up at him, before muttering curses under his breath. Despite his humiliation, Crowley was ever-desperate to please his angel.

He tries his best to continue drawing soft noises from Aziraphale's mouth, but there's really not much he can do while being so small. Luckily though, Aziraphale is very generous, and so decides to push his hand fully against Crowley's body and begin to drag him upwards and along the length, giving himself a handjob with Crowley's figure pressed against his cock.

Aziraphale relaxes back against the couch as he lets out a pretty, proper moan, making Crowley flush a dark red.

Crowley's fully aware he's going to be overstimulated by the end of this, as Aziraphale's rubbing just drags Crowley's cock against Aziraphale's own repeatedly, stimulating him until he's fully hard once again.

Aziraphale moves his hand slowly, not intending to overwhelm or crush Crowley, but instead just genuinely using his body to please himself. He's rather open with how he's feeling, blessing Crowley's ears with rather prominent moans and gasps.

This wonderful routine continues for about a minute more, before they hear a knock on the bookshop door, startling Aziraphale so badly he squeezes his hand tightly around his cock, slapping his hand over his mouth as he cries out at the pressure, simultaneously smashing Crowley's body hard into his shaft. Crowley moans in response, before he's being dropped by Aziraphale's hand.

Aziraphale cranes his head to look behind him, only to see Nina's unamused face staring back at him from the glass. Aziraphale has to bite back a panicked curse as they make eye contact.

Without thinking, Aziraphale is grabbing his boxers and pants and dragging them up his thick thighs and hips, unintentionally trapping Crowley within his boxers and against Aziraphale's still-hard cock. He takes a pillow off the settee and holds it subtly over his nether regions as he walks to the door, opening it just a crack as he smiles at Nina.

"Your shop has some weird hours, Mr. Fell," she states, making Aziraphale smile nervously.

"Yes, well, they're what works best for me." His voice trembles as he speaks, and he can feel sweat glistening on his upper brow. "Now, was there something you needed?"

"Just brought over some excess pastries," she replies, and Aziraphale has to bite his tongue as he feels Crowley squirming in his pants, flushing dark as he realizes the mishap. Nina keeps talking, stating "it's nearing the end of the day, and it'd be a waste to just throw these out."

"Right. Thanks." Aziraphale holds his pillow with one hand - thankful Nina can't see it - and reaches through the crack in the doors to grab a plate of pretty sweets that've been wrapped up for him. Before he can shut the door though, she rather blatantly slides her foot between them, keeping it open and Aziraphale trapped in this conversation.

She raises an eyebrow. "You feeling alright?"

No. No, he rather wasn't. Crowley is squirming in his pants, fighting instinctively against the sudden suffocating feeling of being pressed firmly against Aziraphale's cock, taking in mouthfuls of his pre as it leaks over both Crowley and into the fabric of Aziraphale's own boxers.

This is humiliating and exhilarating, and he can hear Nina's muffled voice which unfortunately seems to only excite both him and Aziraphale further. He's only semi-confident that Aziraphale won't get them both caught, but that risk has Crowley's body burning up. That, and the fact Aziraphale's boxers were stuffy and humid with his arousal. So, Crowley wriggles some more, shamelessly grinding his body as best he can against Aziraphale, working to please both of them even though he is selfishly addicted to his own pleasure.

"I'm feeling amazing, actually," Aziraphale quickly insists, with a short nod. "I'll let you finish closing up. Thanks for the-" Aziraphale lowers his head as he bites his bottom lip, thighs squeezed together where he stands, "for the pastries."

Aziraphale than swiftly shuts the door before Nina can question him further, and lets himself slump partially against it. His back presses firmly against the surface as he drops the pillow onto the ground, feverishly pressing his hand against his straining bulge afterwards.

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale moans, head falling back with a thud as he palms himself through his trousers. Normally, he'd detest potentially making such a mess of his clothes, but with Crowley squirming inside of them he can hardly find the will to care.

Crowley is pressed hard against Aziraphale's cramped cock, moved and pushed hard against it as Aziraphale rubs himself. He's coated in an already thick layer of precome that steadily drips down Aziraphale's shaft and onto him, allowing him to rub easier along Aziraphale's length. This time, as he feels warmth overtaking his body, he doesn't bother to hold back. His cock grinds messily against Aziraphale's much bigger one, before he's coming once again, his small mess infinitesimal within Aziraphale's wet boxers.

Muffled moans fill Crowley's ears as Aziraphale lets himself indulge in his pleasure, being shamelessly loud as he rubs and rubs and rubs, before finally coming himself with a loud cry, making a mess of both Crowley and his boxers. He's left rather sweaty and exhausted afterwards, panting as he leans over, still resting against the door for support.

He lets himself catch his breath for a moment, before his eyes go wide as he remembers Crowley trapped inside his slick pants, and he hastens to unbutton his trousers and slide his hand down them. He cringes briefly at the mess, but after a few moments manages to properly pluck Crowley out and hold him gingerly, relieved to see Crowley looks just as pleased and worn out as he is.

Too tired to even utter a quip, Crowley lets Aziraphale wipe him clean with a towel, before his small form is being kissed once more - more lightly, this time, as to not bother his otherwise oversensitive body - and he's being laid back on the settee.

Aziraphale gives him room to grow back to his normal size, which he does with a lazy flick of his hand, dressing himself in dark, comfortable clothes simultaneously. His head rests against the arm of the sofa, eyes gently shut as he takes in long, deep breaths, almost as if he's savoring the smell of sweat permeating the bookshop after their sensual endeavor.

"Well," Aziraphale starts, "I should probably change."

"Come read to me after," Crowley mumbles, reaching down from the couch blindly before he manages to snag the book Aziraphale had been flipping through earlier. "Finish your chapter, at least."

Aziraphale lets out a soft, closed-mouth laugh, nodding his head in response despite the fact Crowley can't see him. However, as Crowley hears Aziraphale's footsteps recede - presumably to go change into his nightwear - he knows that Aziraphale's going to do as he asked when he gets back. And they're going to cuddle as he does so.

#good omens #good omens smut #aziracrow #aziracrow smut #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands smut #agp smut #yes i know i have a sanders sides shot called tiny kisses #i can only be so creative #micro/macro

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chamyl · 9 months

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What Aziraphale says / what Crowley hears

An analysis of that scene from Good Omens 2. Because the amount of times Aziraphale says one thing when he means another is astounding, as is how perfectly he and Crowley misunderstand each other.

Obviously, SPOILERS all over the place.

Let’s pick it up from the chat with the Metatron. He’s talking about his big projects, blah blah blah, and how he needs someone to run them and Aziraphale's the perfect angel for the job, and Aziraphale's first reply is:

A: "I don't want to go back to Heaven. Where would I get my coffee?"

Meaning: I'm not ready to give up what I can have here on Earth, i.e. Crowley. Metatron, unlike Crowley, hears perfectly well what Aziraphale means, not what he says, because he replies offering him to bring Crowley along.

Flashback ends, we switch back to the bookshop.

C: "He said what?"

Crowley is immediately offended at the mere suggestion. Heaven sucks and he's learned he's lesson, he's never going back.

Aziraphale doesn't notice the anger in his voice, too caught up in his dream of ruling Heaven with Crowley by his side and doing all the good he can for humanity. After having to sit by and watch awful things happen to good people for 6000 years, this is his Ultimate Dream™. He can change things AND he gets to keep Crowley.

(Of course we know Heaven's not going to give him so much freedom, but he wants this so much it makes him oblivious to the possibility he's being fooled.)

A: "Everything like the old times! Only, even nicer."

Meaning: we can be safe, no Book of Life or other punishments hanging over our heads, and I can make Heaven, finally, what it was always supposed to be: a good place. A good place for you, Crowley, too.

C: "Right. And you told him just where he could stick it, then?"

Crowley's too angry to tackle this gently. We watch Aziraphale's face fall.

A: "Not at all."

C: "Oh we're better than that, you're better than that, Angel!"

Meaning: how could you possibly believe this bullshit? After all that we've been through?

C: "You don't need them. I certainly don't need them! Look, they asked me back to Hell I said I'm not gonna be joining their team. Neither should you."

For Crowley, Heaven and Hell are the same thing, just a different colour. He can't understand why Aziraphale wouldn't say no immediately.

A: "But... well, obviously you said no to Hell, you're the bad guys."

Meaning: Hell was never supposed to be a good place. It was always supposed to be a group of demons making the humans' lives harder. How would you make the world better by working with hell? Of course you said no.

A: "But Heaven... well it's the side of truth, of light, of good."

C: "When Heaven ends life here on Earth, it'll be just as dead as if Hell ended it. Tell me you said no."

Here they move away from the actual problem, which is Aziraphale's delusional thoughts in regards to the potential for change in Heaven, to talk about the two of them instead.

He already knows Aziraphale didn't say no. He's asking him to change his mind and stay on Earth, which he will continue to do throughout the rest of this exchange.

C: "Tell me you said no."

Again, tell me you'll change your mind. Tell me you'll stay here, with me.

A: "If I'm in charge, I can make a difference."

This is where it sinks in for Crowley that he's really about to lose Aziraphale. He panics and throws out his confession.

C: "Oh, God[1]. Right, okay. Right. I didn't get a chance to say what I was going to say I think I better say it now. Right, okay, yes, so... We've known each other a long time."

Aziraphale is totally confused and has no idea where this conversation is going.

C: "We've been on this planet for a long time. I mean, you and me. I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me. We're a team. A group. A group of the two of us."

Now Aziraphale realises what's happening. At the worst possible time, Crowley is bringing up all the things they haven't talked about openly in 6000 years.

C: "And we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't. I mean, the last few years, not really. And I would like to spend--"

[gif source]

Crowley swallows it back because he can't bring himself to say 'I would like to spend the rest of our existence together'. It's too much, it’s too big.

C: "I mean, if Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, go off together, then we can."

And there it is, clear as day, the confession. Gabriel and Beelzebub weren't friends, they very clearly had a romantic relationship, and Aziraphale looks absolutely SHOCKED by how explicit Crowley is being.

C: "Just the two of us. We don't need Heaven, we don't need Hell. They're toxic."

Aziraphale shakes his head. He can't accept that Crowley would put Heaven and Hell on the same level.

C: "We need to get away from them, just be an us. You and me, what do you say?"

Just like before Aziraphale wasn’t registering Crowley's anger, now Crowley doesn't pick up on Aziraphale's headshake, his shocked expression. He asks him what he thinks.

A: "Come with me... to Heaven. I'll run it, you can be my second in command. We can make a difference."

This is so painful because they both want the same thing. To be together. But Aziraphale can't ignore the fact that he's just been given the chance to do so much good for everyone, and keeps pressing his point.

C: "You can't leave this bookshop."

[gif source]

Crowley's not talking about the bookshop. He's brought up leaving for Alpha Centaury just a little while ago, a dream he still clings to. What he means is, you can't leave a place where you're safe and independent.

This is not what Aziraphale hears. He thinks Crowley is talking, literally, about the bookshop. That's why he says...

A: "Oh, Crowley. Nothing lasts forever."

[gif source]

Meaning: I'm willing to sacrifice the bookshop to work towards the Greater Good. Even though it pains me.

What Crowley hears: it’s our relationship that was never meant to last forever. All things end, we're breaking up. And in fact his reaction is to put his sunglasses back on, defences back up, and say:

C: "No. I don't suppose it does."

Aziraphale misses the walls coming back up and smiles for a split second, thinking Crowley is agreeing with him. So he's shocked when Crowley says...

C: "Good luck."

And starts to leave.

A: "Good luck?! Cro--Crowley! Crowley come back! To Heaven! Work with me! We can be together! Angels... doing good!"

Aziraphale breaks down completely now. His dream is crumbling, not only Crowley won't join him, but Crowley is abandoning him altogether.

A: "I... I need you!"

He cries out, desperately. Then he gets angry.

A: "I don't think you understand what I'm offering you."

Safety. A chance to be together, out in the open. A chance to do good, save the world from a second Apocalypse. Full status as angel restored. He can't understand why in the world Crowley wouldn't want these things? They can fix Heaven together!

C: "I understand. I think I understand a whole lot better than you do."

Crowley knows Heaven is only going to exploit and manipulate Aziraphale. But he doesn't insist, it's not what he does. In all their fights, Crowley's always been the one to run away in the face of conflict, and he's by the door, ready to go.

A: "Well... then there's nothing more to say."

Meaning: Are you really going to leave me?

C: "Listen. Do you hear that?"

A: "I don't hear anything."

C: "That's the point. No nightingales."

Possibly because this is their own coded language, this is the one time what Crowley means and what Aziraphale hears line up. That the relationship between them is coming to an end. There are no nightingales like the ones in Berkeley square, singing for them after their post-Apocalypse date.

But then it's Crowley's turn to break down. He wasn't fast enough running out of the bookshop, his emotions caught up with him. He’s thinking about that lunch at the Ritz and the nightingales. And after what Maggie and Nina told him, what he himself has learned about love, he makes a last desperate attempt at fixing things.

C: "You idiot. We could have been... us."

He grabs Aziraphale, forcefully kissing him. Aziraphale is shocked, doesn't know what to do with his hands, first he flails then he puts a hand on Crowley's back, as if about to relax, but then starts flailing again as he remembers he can't do this: he has to go to Heaven. Work for the Greater Good. He can't return the kiss.

[gif source]

He's basically sobbing when Crowley lets him go. Full-blown panic now, while Crowley watches him expectantly, hoping his last-resort strategy had some effect on his angel.

But Aziraphale stutters and reaches for something to steady himself, some barrier to put up again between the two of them. Crowley is a demon, he's an angel. Crowley grabbed him and kissed him without asking first, Aziraphale is going to forgive him. There. Big red line between them.

A: “I… I forgive you.”

[gif source]

He seems to regret it the moment the words have left his mouth. But it's too late. Crowley knows that the kiss didn't work, that there's nothing left to do now.

C: "Don't bother."

[gif source]

And he leaves. Almost runs.

Aziraphale is shaking all over. He presses his fingers to his mouth pretty hard, trying to replicate the feeling to process what just happened.

[gif source]

The Metatron was of course right outside, looking in, probably saw the whole thing going down. He takes advantage of the moment where Aziraphale is at his most vulnerable to press him to go, downplays their fight ("Always wanted to go his own way") makes disparaging comments about Crowley ("Damn fool questions too"), knocks down Aziraphale's excuses by entrusting the bookshop to Muriel.

Aziraphale is torn, but after all, what else can he do? In his mind, Crowley abandoned him when he'd finally found somewhere safe for them to be together. And Aziraphale spit out that horrible 'I forgive you'. Even if he stayed now, he'd be all alone. And in Heaven, he gets a chance to do Good with a capital G.

The Metatron tells him about very important plans to 'wrap things up'. Aziraphale looks back at Crowley, who’s standing by the Bentley, watching him.

But the Second Coming bomb the Metatron just dropped solidifies Aziraphale’s choice. Now more than ever he has to go up and do all he can. He steps into the elevator.

Crowley, completely alone now, looks at Nina and Maggie, each in their own shop, not together.

And then both Aziraphale and Crowley do what they always do to deal with difficulties: Crowley drives away, probably to nowhere, just letting the car go, and Aziraphale swallows everything down and tries to put back on his polite, calm, jovial mask. He'll be damned if he'll not try his hardest to be the perfect angel for this job. He’s sacrificed too much.

[gif source]

[1] I don’t know that it’s a good idea to call on her right now, C.

#gos2 spoilers #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #I guess dissecting Mr Sheen's shrimp emotions is how I deal with heartbreak #look at him #fifteen face journeys packed in three seconds

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ineffable-endearments · 27 days

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The Crow Road and Good Omens: Further-Out Thoughts

Here are a few more thoughts; they're more interpretive yet than the ones in my original post about The Crow Road.

I see some similarities between Prentice and both Aziraphale and Crowley.

Prentice feels this need to believe there's something beyond this life, in large part because this life can be ended so quickly and so easily, and it isn't fair. Throughout the novel, he is never very interested in organized religion; his interest in spirituality is truly about the feeling that there has to be a deeper meaning to existence than this one life.

Likewise, I tend to interpret Aziraphale as willing to consider that the people who make up his institution are fallible, but still stuck on the idea that Heaven is performing an essential role: someone should be up there Doing Good, or, more accurately, encouraging people to Do Good. He has reservations about the existing spiritual establishment and how reflective of truth it is, but he still has this feeling that there has to be a greater power and a greater meaning that can be given to people, himself included, because otherwise, what would be the point?

Then again, there is a nonzero amount of Crowley in Prentice, too (and I know the point is that everyone has a little of each). Prentice is a college-aged young man trying to figure himself out in a world that can be profoundly unfair, and he wants to be allowed to experiment with the idea of life after death. Considering perspectives different from one's parents is part of growing up, after all. Kenneth is determined to steer his sons toward a specific worldview, and as much as Kenneth's perspective on spirituality is supported by the narrative, his stubbornness is also ultimately the thing that gets him killed. Prentice observes his mother's hands-off approach to ideology may have ultimately been more effective.

Doesn't this sound a little familiar? Prentice wants to be allowed to question, and he isn't willing to just shrug and accept unfairness without an argument. When he can't find satisfactory answers, he also tends to drown his anxiety and depression in alcohol and other substances.

All in all, I feel we may have seen the conflict between Crowley and Aziraphale playing out in Prentice's character development; they are the angel and demon on his shoulder, as usual. But the conflict was resolved in the way that I think and hope Crowley and Aziraphale's will be on a grander scale. Prentice ended up having to surrender his philosophy, especially the life-after-death stuff, but then his deep need for a sense of meaning was satisfied much better by finding that meaning here on Earth.

There's also an interesting interaction between the two stories in relation to the afterlife. Namely, The Crow Road takes place in a universe that presumably works just like ours, while we know for sure that in Good Omens, there is an afterlife of one kind or another. We can't be sure how it works, but we've seen human characters in both Season 1 and Season 2 maintain their consciousness after death. I wonder if maybe in the world of Good Omens, human mortality is somehow being exploited by the higher-ups?

Anyway, as a result of this difference, Good Omens also has a special opportunity with the "death doesn't give life meaning - life gives itself meaning!" message. Its main characters are immortal. The book already subverts the whole "oh, being immortal sucks, everyone eventually wants to die" trope by portraying Crowley and Aziraphale's motivation to maintain their Earthly lives instead of starting Armageddon. Season 2 added depth to that, and Season 3 has an opportunity to fully flesh out why exactly life on Earth is where meaning is created even when there is no time limit, even if people don't have the inevitability of death looming over their heads.

Another thought: something a little ironic in The Crow Road is that the incident that led to Kenneth's death "should," theoretically, have made Prentice believe in higher powers, if it was really about that. It certainly convinced Hamish. However, the whole conflict between himself and his father was more about the meaning Prentice sought, so instead, it pushed Prentice toward Kenneth's ideology.

I am wondering if this points toward an event that Aziraphale "should," theoretically, take to mean that Heaven is right or all-powerful or otherwise can't possibly be defied, but which will be the very thing that convinces him the entire system is wrong.

Finally, @loverdosis brought up the great point that memory and history are also major conceptual themes in The Crow Road. In The Crow Road, memory and history give the characters their sense of identity. Prentice also mentions it as one way people can achieve a kind of continuity that doesn't infringe on the importance of life itself. And all of that meshes with Good Omens. So far, Gabriel's plot has involved a very strong focus on memory issues, and through that, we've seen that there is something going on with Crowley's memory as well, although exactly what it is - how much of his memory is missing, who took it, whether he can or wants to get it back - is uncertain. Beelzebub described Gabriel's memories as "All your...you," implying that memories are the majority of what gives Gabriel his identity. The memory wipe punishment is very much a death sentence.

After consideration, I would not be surprised to see memory make a roaring comeback as a theme in Season 3. It could even bring themes of identity and purpose with it.

#good omens #the crow road #go3 speculation #s3 speculation #go 2 spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #go s2 spoilers #good omens book club

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fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic · 3 months

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Good Omens Fic Rec: Closer to You

Since his wife divorced him, A.J. Crowley makes good money writing romance novels. Having his characters fall in love is far less risk than doing it himself, especially while he takes the time to explore exactly who he is and what he likes in the bedroom. Sexual psychology student and cam worker Aziraphale enjoys understanding pleasure. But only from a safe distance. He's too busy working on his PhD to fall in love. The idea of making himself so vulnerable to rejection again is, quite frankly, terrifying. It seems a simple enough arrangement to help each other out, and lend a hand when needed. They are such big fans of each others' *work*, after all.

Length: 44,049 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: At Home, After Dark, Human AU, Comedy

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by TawnyOwl95

*Minor Spoilers* How the hell do you guys keep coming up with the most devilishly good stories?? Here we have Crowley as a romance writer, who is just coming to terms with his queerness and lack of sex life. Aziraphale is a sex researcher who struggles with relationships and lets out steam by performing on cam. This premise really intrigued me because you’d expect the roles to be reversed. Usually Crowley is depicted as the sexual one, and Aziraphale the bookish professor. This story said nah flip the script. This was absolutely delightful. The chemistry was off the charts. They can’t handle 5 minutes in each other’s presence without wanting to devour each other. They are exactly what each other needs and wants sexually, but they'll come to find out it's more than just that. They compliment each other so perfectly intellectually and that's what I love in every iteration! How they can volley ideas back and forth and keep up with each other's wit. Their relationship has great ups and downs, and I was engaged the entire time. The only thing that took me getting used to was Aziraphale as a youngish student. It's in character definitely, but he's not tickety-boo grandpa here and at first it felt strange. The author has a handle on it though, and I bought into this younger Aziraphale fairly quick.

That’s not all there is to this story though. We have excellent side characters with Gabriel, Nina, Maggie, and Warlock all used to wonderful effect. I particularly loved Gabriel, who was so funny in every scene leaning into his Jimbriel side. Warlocks addition proved to be a great plot line too. I was a little worried about that side at first but ended up really happy for his inclusion.

The other amazing thing about this story is that it works as a meta commentary on smut that felt like a mini therapy session for the reader. A big part of Aziraphale’s work, and their discussions, revolve around why people read smut. How it soothes anxiety by redirecting negative thoughts into pleasurable ones. The safety and comfort that smut brings due to the lack of visuals and real world hang-ups. The way it’s cathartic for both writer and reader. It sees us and says, we both know why we’re here let’s make the most of it shall we? Not only was it fun to read in that meta way, it was a genuinely insightful conversation.

Some more word salad to describe this one: bold, mature, thoughtful, hot as fuck, funny, engaging, and did I mention hot as fuck? At home after dark read. I binged this one, you’re going to get sucked into this plot so I’d carve out some time for a single sitting.

Read it here, fic by TawnyOwl95

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfic rec #aziracrow #good omens fic rec #aziraphale x crowley #Closer to You #TawnyOwl95 #human au #five flames #after dark #at home #sex au #artist au #parent #medium #teacher au #faves of the blog

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edosianorchids901 · 2 months

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Fortune's Star

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "broken moonlight"

Sonoran Desert, 1832

“I’m done with horses,” Crowley announced. He could hardly feel his legs at this point. “Gonna do a great big miracle. Vanish all of ‘em.”

“Don’t be rude, Crowley.” With an admonishing look, Aziraphale patted his horse’s neck. “It’s hardly the horses’ fault that your legs hurt.”

“It is when my horse kept trying to take off.” Wincing, Crowley tugged on the reins, steering his horse back onto the narrow, rocky trail that wound between the imposing saguaros. “No, you idiot, that’s just a rock. It’s not a rattlesnake.”

“I suppose it is reasonable for the horses to be suspicious, considering,” Aziraphale said. “We have seen five of your kin today, and that was before dark. There’s likely more now.”

“Rattlesnakes are not my kin.” Hissing, Crowley steered his skittish horse around another suspicious rock. “I don’t have rattles. You know I don’t have rattles.”

“Well, yes, but you are serpents.” Behind him, Aziraphale sighed. They’d been riding side by side earlier, when it was more open, but this area was like riding through a canyon of cacti. “I do think we ought to stop soon. Not simply because of your legs, so don’t get defensive. It’s just so dark. And-and-and I can’t see in the dark. I have no idea whether my horse is about to trod on something dangerous.”

That was why Crowley was out front. Demons could see fine in the dark. Mostly what he saw were rocks, scorpions, and more rocks. And the cacti, of course, along with little mouse thingies with fluffy bits on the ends of their tails. They were kind of cute, and Aziraphale would probably like them if he could see them.

Crowley wasn’t in the mood for cute. Or for being awake, honestly. “Nnnh, okay. I kinda wanted to get to somewhere with alcohol, but you’re probably right. And I could stand to get down.”

Except that getting down off his horse required moving his legs. That was gonna suck.

They finally found a decent campsite, a little hollow against a reddish cliff face. A shrubby tree grew nearby, which would be a little shade from the hot desert sun tomorrow. All in all, no bad.

Aziraphale hopped down from his horse with no problem and came over to Crowley. “May I?”

Grunting, Crowley let Aziraphale help him down. His legs buckled as soon as he hit the ground, and he hissed furiously. “No more horses. This is ridiculous.”

“Yes, well.” Aziraphale put his arm around Crowley’s waist and helped him limp over to an annoyingly tartan blanket. There was a little more light now, a faint glow of moonlight. “I highly doubt you want to hike through the desert, either. Your legs would object just as much.”

“Fair point.” A breeze blew across them here, and Crowley tilted his head back to gaze up at the stars. They sparkled high above, not even a hint of a cloud to disturb their spectacle. “Gosh. I don’t like traveling through this area sometimes, especially when it’s hot, but it’s damn gorgeous. Look at my stars.”

Aziraphale fussed with his pack, pulling out a bottle. But he spared a quick glance up and smiled. “Goodness, yes. They’re really quite striking.”

“And we’ve got some moon, now.” Crowley pointed to it. The barricade of jutting saguaros blocked most of the view, but bars of broken moonlight illuminated the ground in front of them now. “See those mouse thingies? I wanted to point ‘em out to you earlier, but it was too dark.”

“Oh, they have little tufted tails,” Aziraphale said with delight. He passed the bottle of whiskey to Crowley, then laid a hand on his leg. “They’re awfully cute, and I do believe I could watch them bounce around all day. But I suspect you’re in a rather horrific amount of pain, and I wonder if I might help?”

It was still hard to accept help, even after all their years of the Arrangement. But Crowley dipped his head, unwilling to protest. “Yeah, if you like. I’m pretty stiff.”

He was more than stiff. He could hardly even move his feet now, let alone his legs. A few feet away, his horse was eating a shrubby bush, totally unconcerned about Crowley’s discomfort.

“Well, we’ll see if we can at least get you a bit more comfortable.” Drawing a long breath of the night air, Aziraphale massaged carefully up and down Crowley’s right leg, the one that always hurt the worst. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Crowley considered it. He did feel bloody awful—but actually, he wasn’t in a terrible mood anymore. The soft moonlight added ambiance, as did the call and response of owls and their mates. Stars wandered across the inky sky above.

“Honestly, no,” he finally said. “I’ve got you, whiskey, and a really competent massage. I’m set.”

Aziraphale smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with fondness. “I am as well.”

Tomorrow would be another long, uncomfortable ride. But it was a nice night, with a cool breeze, gentle moonlight, and good company. All things considered, Crowley felt pretty fortunate.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #disabled crowley

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max-will-one-day-be-okay · 9 months

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As someone who grew up very gay in a DEEPLY religious family, Good Omens 2 got everything right, from beginning to end.

Spoilers under the cut

So as I've watched the show, I feel like I've found some pretty good parallels to the life of two older queers with religious trauma coming together.

From where I'm sitting (a borderline homeless queer who had to leave my family because of RAMPANT and DANGEROUS homophobia)

Crowly was disowned by his family for being gay (and probably also for that gender stuff), and has grown up on his own. He knows who he is. He's happy with who he is. You couldn't pay him to go back to his life before he came out because he was miserable. Every bit of joy he had was taken away or ridiculed until he was told God didn't love him anymore. We see snippets where he misses home, but it is clear from the BEGINNING that that's not where he belongs.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, has just been sidelined for his sexuality. As long as he doesn't make too much of a fuss or "make it his whole personality", he'll still be a part of the family. God still loves him. So even if they don't seem to understand him, Aziraphale wholeheartedly believes that his family and god want what's best for him. That God is always right. He loves Crowly, but he's not willing to turn his back on god or his family. No matter how wrong it feels or how much it hurts, Aziraphale, as we saw in the show, will always do what he believes is right.

Crowly probably remembers how it felt to be in Aziraphale's situation, so it makes sense that he'd be willing to wait for so long. What he doesn't understand is Aziraphale's utter devotion to his family and God.

Aziraphale knows that having to go out on his own was hard on Crowly. He's starting to see the cracks in the system and asking the right/wrong questions. What he doesn't understand is why Crowly wouldn't want to go back. Why he wouldn't want to be welcomed back into his family's arms and seen as pure again in the eyes of god.

THAT is why they weren't ready to be together. Crowly saw that a relationship like theirs can exist without anything terrible happening and wants to finally be together, but Aziraphale wants to go back to the place that said that neither of them would ever be good enough. Aziraphale saw the person who had always taken charge in demeaning him step down from power and was offered to make the world a better place with the being he loves by his side. They were both offered their dreams, but neither of them wants what the other does.

Not getting a happy ending sucks. Not getting a happy ending when the strikes aren't ending, so a continuation is not guaranteed, SUCKS. But also, they aren't ready to be together yet. Aziraphale needs to grow to love himself and Crowly needs to learn to care about other people.

@neil-gaiman made a masterpiece with this season.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens spoilers #I love them #I also love the ending to season 2 if it's not an ENDING ending

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fizzingwizard · 9 months

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The separation of Crowley and Aziraphale at the end of season 2 is the best thing that could have happened to them.

From now on it'll suck, it'll be lonely, it'll be stressful. Maybe Aziraphale will find he's behaving just like he used to in Heaven, and all the stomach-churning guilt of that. Maybe Crowley will drive around living indulgently for himself, and feel emptier and emptier.

It will look like separating destroyed them. Just like, in season 2, it looked like being together made them happy. But you've got to prune a garden to let it grow. You've got to lance a wound to drain the sickness.

They love each other. But is love enough? I'd say episode 6, Nina and Maggie tell us straight that no, it's not enough. They come into the bookshop to persuade Crowley to admit he loves Aziraphale, but in the process they also say that Crowley and Aziraphale shouldn't have meddled in their love life, because Nina's not ready for a new relationship and it's her life and her choice. The most relevant part was that, not the "tell him." Which is why telling him doesn't work.

Aziraphale misses Heaven. He misses feeling part of something. Right in episode one, he's hiding angelic behavior from Crowley ("Purely selfish," he says about forgiving Maggie's rent). He's proud... of his ability to forgive. As freaky as it is to have Gabriel on his doorstep, he throws himself into helping him, maybe not in the nicest way, but at least in an "intending to be helpful" way. I think he was thrilled to have something to do with heaven again. But he still doesn't want to be "mean," he still looks to Crowley to use demonic behavior when a heavier hand is needed. Though he says he lets Crowley rescue him because Crowley enjoys it, that's only half true: the other half is Aziraphale can't bring himself to be enough of a bastard on his own.

Even Crowley is talking with demons right off the bat. Even assisting temptation. Lazily, yes, sure, he's still doing it. Old habits die hard. He's pinned his happiness on Aziraphale, but it hasn't reduced the boiling anger inside him. Anger at God, anger at everything. He's worked hard for a modicum of peace, and it feels to him like it's hanging by the merest thread. He can' be truly happy because he's too afraid of losing it. He has to help Aziraphale, has to feel useful to Aziraphale, and believe that he and Aziraphale on their own side, to convince himself it's all real. Aziraphale and Crowley are good at many things, but self-examination isn't one of them.

Aziraphale didn't reject Crowley because he doesn't love him. Neither did Crowley reject Aziraphale because he doesn't love him. They each rejected the other because it's not the right the time. What they want doesn't line up. They haven't thrown off heaven and hell like they've led each other to believe, and may not necessarily want to. Whether they should is immaterial: feelings matter. Even if heaven and hell are awful and should be discarded, it doesn't mean they're ready to do it, any more than Nina was ready to discard her controlling partner, no matter how much Lindsay really, really needed to go. It sucks, but it's true: our hearts aren't always willing to do the things that will benefit us most, and time is the only cure. Luckily for Nina, Maggie will wait.

Will Aziraphale and Crowley wait? After the not-apocalypse they were thrust together maybe too much, and instead of being two separate individuals quietly happy together, they created this co-dependent relationship that was bound to smash to bits when it hit the rocks. It's far from the unhealthiest relationship out there, which is why it still can be saved. With some space and time to reflect, and with a better understanding of themselves, maybe they'll be able to try again with more wisdom the next time they meet.

They are too love to be in love. They're not capable of the kind of shallow, superficial love that would let them go on faking it forever. It hurts now, but if they'd stayed together despite their diametrically opposed wishes, they'd only hurt more later.

#good omens #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens 2 #repeating myself but theres so much fandom caterwauling going on

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spector · 9 months

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my goomens s2 thoughts

ok so spoilers obviously BUT

my god . this was a shitshow GFFHIGHFIg i really went in with like . the lowest expectations bc all i wanted was a). see my purple whore (gabriel) and see him be funny b). have a good finale for him where he remains the most special boy in heaven

i did NOT expect the show to be sooo bad in the writing department it was insane. like, ok, i don't care much for crowley and aziraphale, i never did. i love it when they're being fruity and silly on screen, that's fun but overall I'm not very much invested in them. but in this season u barely get them doing fun stuff together, they're always split up and on their own they just don't deliver

AND THE WORST FUCKING PART. are those fucking minisodes/flashbacks . they're so bad. my god. but its clear everyone involved in creating them LOVES the idea but ???? every single one of them SUCKED and took focus away from interesting things that were happening in the PRESENT. the entire mystery plot about gabriel was interesting but guess what, they set it up and then . forget about it until the last episode where they just do a MASSIVE exposition dump in like 15 minutes. u get the entire mystery handed to you on a silver platter and the worst part is, they could have set it up like a genuine investigation for the viewer to guess it, but its the same as BBC sherlock fuckery. the actual resolution is something u never could have guessed on your own !!!!!!!! like there were hints (wit the fly in the shop) but they NEVER followed up on it, they just randomly resolve it in the final episode . my god

anyways back to the minisodes/flashbacks. theyre so bad. i said that already but they're so bad. the blitz episode is the worst offender bc not only it takes place right after that really nice scene from s1 and thusly robs it of any emotional impact, but its also . JUST BAD. EXTREMELY BORING AND UNFUNNY. DREADFULLY UNFUNNY. job minisode was really bad too . the finale of it was ok but the whole buildup was stupid as FUCK. the corpse robbing bit in victorian edinburgh was SOOOO boring and at the end there - extremely cringe. WHY DID THEY EVEN BOTHER WITH THOSE. THEY ADDED NOTHING TO THE PLOT. at least in s1 when they did the minisodes, they served as character exploration for crowley and aziraphale and they also set up some of heaven/hell lore, THE ONES IN S2 WERE NOTHING. NOTHING AT ALL . at one point it seemed like all the bits from the past somehow lead to the current mystery (like that doctor guy and the pub named after him) BUT THEN IT ALL TURNED OUT TO NOT BE CONNECTED AT ALL

the blitz episode . my god . it was just . so bad. i have no words really.

and the lesbian subplot - like. it needed to be more connected to the main plot. i didn't mind it at all but . it went and disappeared and then suddenly became the focus of episode five... WHEN AT THIS POINT, WE SHOULDVE BEEN GETTING CLOSER TO SOLVING THE MYSTERY. BUT THE MYSTERY WAS SHELVED FOR SOME FUCKING REASON. its insane how much aziraphale and crowley just. forget about gabriel even tho they should be busting ass to solve the case as it were.

and my god, gabriel. ive never been like. ride or die for gabriel/beelzebub, they've always been two boss bitches that slayed together or whatever , i prefer them to be that and not romantically involved but i also dont mind them to be an item. so whatever, i dont mind them being endgame BUT I MIND BOTH OF THEM DITCHING THEIR POSITIONS OF POWER BECAUSE I THINK THEYRE TOO COOL FOR THAT . WHATEVER . THATS LAME . they should've like. reorganized everything .

AND ALSO THE WAY THEY KEPT SHELVING GABRIEL AND JUST LIKE. LEAVING HIM OUT OF EPISODES????? WHAT??? THE WHOLE CATALYST FOR EVERYTHING AND THEY FORGET ABOUT HIM FOR LONG STRETCHES OF TIME. INSANE??? AND RESOLVE EVERYTHING SOOO QUICKLY IN THE FINAL EPISODE??? what the hell

ITS JSUT ? INSANE HOW BAD THE WRITING IS and i don't even mean that from a gabriel girlie's perspective. imagine if the season starts out with like, idk a murder mystery and it looks like solving the murder is the most important thing for the story, at least it seems so in episode one. and then suddenly the rest of the season is about what the two detectives did some time ago and its totally unrelated and also at some point there are two episodes dedicated to them looking for some files for an unrelated mystery to get their bosses of their back. and the murder is solved at the last moment through magical CCTV footage they could've accessed at any point in the season if they just Tried A Bit Harder.

it really boggles the mind. it REALLY DOES. they should have dropped all the minisodes they did NOTHING . the ball episode should have been like. ep 3 or smth. the rest should've been the investigation of the weird fuckery. shax was wasted. additional hell and heaven lore felt like deconstruction instead of worldbuilding. I'm going insane with how bad all of this was, I REALLY DIDNT EXPECT IT TO BE SUCH A SHITSHOW LIKE DFHGIDDHGIGH ITS FUNNY??? ITS JUST BASICS OF SHOWMAKING .

I SAID TO SUSAN THAT THIS FEELS LIKE A SHOW WRITTEN DURING THE WRITERS STRIKE BUT IT WASNT . IT WAS WRITTEN BEFORE OUGHHHH

and again, i dont care about aziraphale but the last moment arc felt so out of character for him like my god, didn't we just spend an entire job minisode establishing he's questioning heaven and now he just returns to it AUHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG what the fuck is going on. how is this so BAD HGIFGHGIH . the last episode is such a shitshow that its like. its remarkable. I'm genuinely surprised bc my expectations were low but WOW. just WOW

i have to stop now before i continue picking everything apart but AUGHGHG JESUS !!!!! I COULDNT HAVE PREDICTED IT BEING SO BAD

#this is a bit unhinged but im just like. im in such shock over how bad it was

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risetherivermoon · 9 months

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So, since i've finished watching Good Omens, and im obviously a gay nerd, i have thoughts!! 😇

cw: my opinions 😱 + Good Omens 2 spoilers ⚠️

Aziraphale hasn't been ruined, honestly what happened makes so much sense with his character, like??

As we go through the series, Season 1 & 2, he still shows signs of being hesitant to not being a part of heaven, or of hell.

He's an angel originally and that's what makes sense to him. He's lived with how the concepts of heaven and hell work for his entire life, that's not something he was able to un-learn, and it probably won't be something he can do quickly.

I believe that the theory he's been brainwashed by metatron, is just throwing out all of his character development throughout the series. The fact he's so hesitant to being a part of a third, ulterior group with Crowley is pushed so much onto us i'm so shocked people think it was out of character???

He knows there are problems with heaven, he can see them, but he doesn't see it like Crowley does. Crowley has been given the worst treatment by God and Heaven in general, being cast out. He's fallen, so it makes sense that he's used to being betrayed by large groups like heaven and hell, so it makes sense he's already come to the conclusion that being in a third group of just him and Aziraphale is the best course of action.

Aziraphale still has hope and faith for God and Heaven, he disagrees with a lot of things that they do, but he still has this faith, and hope. Which is why when he was given the opportunity to change it for the better? he took it. He wants to make a difference, he wants to make Heaven be what it should be. They are the good guys, he knows this.

Because of him not being used and comfortable with the thought that angels and demons don't have to be fundamentally good or evil, he thinks this is the better way of doing it. Because heaven is the good guys, so if Crowley is reinstated as an angel? then Crowley would be a good guy with Aziraphale.

Crowley, sees this as a betrayal because he thought that Aziraphale knows that neither side is good. Aziraphale, because they both suck at communicating, as thats been established, never expresses his doubt in Crowley's ideology, and Crowley never fully explains it.

Aziraphale wants to make heaven a place where Crowley can come back. He wants to make heaven inhabitable for Crowley, and he wants Crowley to help him make a difference because he thinks thats what Crowley wants. (BECAUSE THEY WONT TALK TO EACHOTHER!!!)

Crowley thinks that Aziraphale wants him to change, to be an obedient pawn in God's game, again. Crowley takes it as Aziraphale thinking he needs to be controlled. Crowley goes "too fast" for him, he's unpredictable and evil.

That whole ending scene was just them not getting eachother AT ALLLLL and Crowley was so desperate for Aziraphale to understand him that he kissed him as a last measure, the gesture was him screaming at Aziraphale to just listen. That's why it was ugly, that's why it was hurtful rather than sweet. They weren't understanding eachother.

Aziraphale says that he forgives Crowley, he chooses those words exactly. "I forgive you." i see that as Aziraphale telling Crowley that he can be an angel again, that even though he's fallen, and God may never forgive him, that Aziraphale does. Aziraphale thinks that Crowley can be an angel again, despite everything. He thinks that Crowley deserves to be accepted back into heaven.

He's wishing that his acceptance of Crowley is enough, but it isn't. And he watches Crowley from afar, and he decides that (sadly) if Crowley doesn't want to listen, than maybe he isn't worth the sacrifice, he isn't worth giving up the opportunity to save humanity and change heaven and hell spontaneously.

Aziraphale looks at Crowley, and he sees their future crumble, he sees their past and present, he sees how much he loves Crowley...and he dismisses it.

Aziraphale is a manipulated child, that strives for the attention and acceptance, thinking that this is the way to finally get it. He has hope.

Crowley is the abandoned child, the reckless and rebellious one. He's adamant on showing both heaven and hell that they don't have control over him. He's been betrayed too many times to ever trust an angel, or a demon.

Crowley thought he'd found someone, finally someone, he could trust, and he watches that crumble in front of him.

anyways, i hope that makes sense :) i love them, they should make up and make out next season, xx

p.s; im so ill abt them

#good omens 2 spoilers #good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #me rambling like hell

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trensu · 1 year

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WAIT, WHAT ABOUT A STEDDIE GOOD OMENS AU? Eddie is hell's most terrible demon. As in, he completely fails at being sufficiently evil all the time. He is, at most, a nuisance. Then we have heaven's best angel, Steve, who was charged with being a guardian and love humanity, and threw himself headfirst into it to the point that when Heaven decided it was time to end the world he was like, 'uh that's where all the humans live? So, hard pass on Armageddon, thanks!' I don't think they have an Arrangement like Aziraphale and Crowley do, though, and probably they actively avoid each other until the whole antichrist situation pops up.

Then we can have them agree to attempting to raise Dustin to prevent Armageddon because they think he's the antichrist except, surprise! It's actually El who's devil-spawn, and she grew up to be kind and loving despite the misery that was her life. And actually, Eddie and Steve decide this worked out well because if Dustin had had antichrist powers, he probably would've taken over the world in a heartbeat because Eddie and Steve both kinda suck at their jobs.

Nancy and Jonathan are obviously Anathema and Pulsifer. I think we'll have Robin be an angel sent down to Earth and "apprenticed" to Steve as punishment because she annoyed Gabriel one too many times. Chrissy is there too as Eddie's liaison to hell. She likes him and definitely encourages his shenanigans while reporting to hell that Eddie is doing fantastic evil on Earth so they both can keep their jobs.

Eddie cheerleads Chrissy into going after Robin because 1) he wants his bestie to be happily together with her crush and 2) she'd definitely get a promotion in hell for seducing an angel. Meanwhile Steve actually gets very protective of Robin and is mega suspicious of Chrissy's intentions. He makes sure they're never alone together and will go so far as to physically put himself between them if he thinks Chrissy is getting to close to Robin.

Eddie decides to be the best wingman which obviously means it is his duty to distract Steve so Chrissy can shoot her shot. What better way to distract him than by flirting outrageously? Sure he's teased Steve consistently throughout the millennia but it was mostly just to get Steve all huffy and irritated rather than to, like, seduce him. Steve gets incredibly flustered annoyed under Eddie's new type of attention and is very thoroughly distracted by it.

(ofc it turns out that even though Steve is an angel who should be above such things as carnal sin, he's actually VERY experienced in the sack. Eddie, by contrast, might be the most virginal demon to have ever existed and really has no idea what to do when Steve starts giving Eddie as good as he gets; they're essentially playing gay chicken except for how they're both ethereal/occult beings without any human sex or gender, but they do have wings so the chicken bit still applies)

Then other stuff happens and they all fall in love and live happily on Earth with the occasional confrontation with Heaven and/or Hell whenever one of their sides tries to start some apocalypse or other again!

#stranger things #steddie #buckingham #good omens #go au #trensu tells stories

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aziraphalalala · 5 months

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She stepped closer, understanding in her eyes.

“So, he left you… for a job opportunity?”

“Nngggghhhyyeeaaaah, you could say that.”

“Well, good riddance. If he didn’t choose you, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“He kind of does, you know.”

This snippet comes from my first ever fic, "In the bookshop, after". I promised I'd answer any asks with 500 words from anywhere on any fic I've written here, so, here we are. Author rambling meta, served piping hot, coming up!

Why did I write this fic?

This fic, albeit a short one-shot, was written in the emotional aftershock of *points finger at the last 15 minutes of Good Omens S2E6*.

The second season finally unleashed a burst of creativity and a desire to write in me that had been lying in wait for quite some time. Suddenly, I had so many ideas, and I needed to let it all out somehow. I drew. I sang. I wrote shitty poetry. I returned to tumblr to scream about Good Omens with everyone else.

Once I wrote this fic, it was like opening a Pandora's Box. I can no longer stop, nor do I want to. Writing gives me life. I enjoy it so much I am now writing a multi-chapter human AU fic which will end up being around 30,000 words. In less than 2 months.

It's crazy, and glorious.

Anyway, back to this snippet.

The characters, the dialogue, the context

This unnamed lady, who steps in to the bookshop as Crowley is slowly but steadily consuming quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol, has an uncanny way of picking up things she shouldn't be able to.

Crowley and the lady have a conversation which happens on multiple levels, especially for Crowley. He ends up being painfully honest, secure in his knowledge that most of it goes over the head of this random person.

We, the readers, are not sure whether that's truly the case. She appears rather unusually perceptive.

I have plans for that random person, and a whole backstory for her. I might write it one day. That fic would go a long way explaining her side of this conversation.

But for now, we don't really know her, and we leave it at that.

What was I thinking as I wrote this?

This moment, these lines, draw heavily from my own life. I, too, once imagined that love is an emotion that in itself can be enough for a relationship. Experience, sometimes harshly, has taught me that in the end, our actions and choices are more important than our intentions and emotions.

Does this person choose me? Do they prioritize my needs? Do they make an effort, day in day out, to make our relationship work?

This is the lesson the lady wishes to drill into Crowley. And if it were any other person in the world, a friend of mine for example, I'd tell them to move on. Good riddance. They don't choose you, they don't deserve you.

But. Aziraphale and Crowley have been friends, enemies and co-conspirators for six millennia. How does one even begin to define the complexities of their relationship?

Have they not, consistently, worked to keep each other safe, to find short moments together that they can share in secret?

Their relationship is a relationship that thrives despite being forbidden. Despite the fear that's ever present in their lives.

Some word choice trivia.

"Job opportunity" is a very purposeful choice, because it's a slightly revolting business jargon term. It's jarring, seeing it in the context of Good Omens and our two supernatural beings. It implies, heavily, that it's a bullshit opportunity, meaning it's not what it seems to be. It implies that the lady thinks Aziraphale made the stupidest choice on the planet for something that isn't worth it.

Crowley kinda agrees, but not whole-heartedly, because I believe he knows Aziraphale had very little choice in the end.

And, let's face it. Being an angel of Heaven is basically a shitty corporate job that sucks the life and soul out of you.

"He kind of does, you know." This is where the conversation really happens on a few different levels. Since Crowley understands why Aziraphale did what he did (at least in my head), he still has hope that they can be together, in the end. That they are, in fact, fighting the same fight, on the same side.

Finally.

I'll leave it to all of you to decide whether the lady truly knows what's up when we say "She stepped closer, understanding in her eyes."

Does she understand, think she understands, or do we misinterpret her expression? Again, how is she there? How can she just pick up the conversation, and so many details without being told?

One day I hope we'll find out.

Thanks for the ask, anon! This was fun. 😊

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amazing-spiderling · 13 days

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🧡💛💖💔

🧡 What is a popular (serious) theory you disagree with?

Well, I had an answer typed out but then I realized I need to save it for a different ask XD. So, I'll say that coffee theory from Good Omens. Nobody needed to chemically tamper with anybody's drink in final scene, and doing so would rob it of its emotional impact. The tragedy of Aziraphale choosing Heaven over being "us" with Crowley is that he did it of his own will, that he so woefully misunderstood the situation and their relationship and what the person he cares about most in the world really wanted. Anything less than that is just a silly mistake and wouldn't give us the pathos we need to sustain a third season.

💛 What is a popular ship you just can’t get behind, and why?

I feel like I've said Fratt before. Have I said it before? IDK I'm saying it again. Like, damn y'all make some fantastic art and the manga points are off the charts but it's not for me. I think it is usually because (from where I'm sitting) a lot of this ship is dependent on making Matt... well, the "uke" of the pair. I've seen way too much art of big cool guy Frank and small, delicate, "choir boy" Matt, like he doesn't beat up people on a regular basis. Don't get me wrong, I think the interactions between these two are interesting, but in a "co-workers who hate each other" kind of way. They're not kissing. XD

💖 What is your biggest unpopular opinion about a series?

It's fine that Our Flag Means Death ended after two seasons. It sucks that we didn't get the whole story as intended, but it still had an ending.

💔 If you had to remove one major character from the series, who would you choose?

Elektra. Actually, to be more to the point, I want to remove her entirely from the series, and carefully put her in some completely different series where she can be an independent character who exists on her own, instead of a weird romantic foil for Matt Murdock.

#thanks for the ask #these are hard T_T

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underground-monarch · 6 months

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all of you, exactly as you are

Good Omentober day 19: wings Word count: 1.8k Read on AO3

Crowley grumbled low in his throat, one corner of his lip pulling back in a frustrated snarl as he shoved a cluster of flowers aside to get at the dead blooms beneath. The rose bush, unintimidated despite his best efforts, found itself with a particularly thorny branch in the way of his hand, and it took all of Crowley’s self-control to not eviscerate the thing with a blast of hellfire on the spot.

“Bloody stubborn roses…!” he muttered, throwing his secateurs down on the grass to rub harshly at the bleeding pinpricks covering his knuckles. “Should never’ve planted the damn things… don’ even like ‘em that much… stupid flowers too stuck up themselves to know what’s good for ‘em… my garden, my rules, but nooooo, the bloody roses think they get to do whatever they damn well please…!”

Aziraphale, sitting on the bench at the other end of the garden, looked up when the smell of smoke reached his nose. Crowley’s furious chuntering was emitting a mildly concerning quantity of dark clouds, and Aziraphale set down his book to go and calm the demon down before he got himself any more worked up.

“Crowley?” he called gently. “Is everything alright, my dear?”

Without releasing his grip on his bleeding hand, Crowley gestured angrily at the offending bush. “Absolutely tickety-fucking-boo, angel! S’not like I’m losing a battle of wills with a damned plant or anything!” He rubbed harder, nails grazing absent-mindedly across his tanned skin; Aziraphale stepped forwards and took Crowley’s injured hand in his own immaculate ones, healing the tiny cuts with a minor miracle.

Crowley still wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“Feel like I’m losing my touch,” he muttered, voice catching slightly in his throat. “Can’t concentrate on anything. Can’t even get the stupid flowers to grow right.”

“Crowley...” Aziraphale stepped in front of his husband, one hand still holding Crowley’s and the other coming up to rest on the demon’s cheek. His unmasked yellow serpent eyes were shining wet. “Hey now, where’s this coming from? The garden is just as gorgeous as always.” He didn’t need to look around to verify that statement; he had spent all day admiring the view from their bench, after all.

Crowley shook his head, shrugging. “Can’t think properly,” he muttered after a moment. “‘M just…!” He stepped away from Aziraphale, walking a tight circle as his hands moved to grip his hair in frustration. A growl rumbled in his chest, the words to describe his emotions evading him.

Aziraphale watched him with a sympathetic frown, his fingers twisting together uncertainly. As he continued to pace, Crowley’s shoulders tensed and rolled under his black shirt, and Aziraphale realised what the matter was.

“Itchy?”

“Huh?” Crowley paused, glancing at him with a faintly guarded expression.

Aziraphale moved closer, and when Crowley didn’t move away again he raised his hand to rub firmly over the demon’s upper back. Crowley let out a faint hiss, instinctively flexing his shoulders again.

“When was the last time you preened your wings, dear?”

Crowley’s ears flicked guiltily. “Um… not sure.”

With a click of his fingers, Aziraphale summoned their tartan picnic blanket from inside the cottage and laid it out on the grass, along with a small pile of cushions. “Sit.”

With the gentle but firm pressure of the angel’s hand on his back, Crowley didn’t argue as he was steered onto the blanket, slumping down cross-legged facing away from the rose bush with Aziraphale kneeling behind him.

Aziraphale had both hands on Crowley’s back now. “Come on.”

“Angel, you don’t have to-”

“I want to. Please, my dear, let me help you relax.”

“Ngk…”

Finally Crowley relented, and the ashy black feathers manifested with a soft whoosh, stretching out on either side of the kneeling angel.

“There we go, darling.” Aziraphale’s smile was audible, and Crowley sucked in a breath as a hand smoothed over the rumpled primaries of his left wing. “My, my, it’s no wonder these are bothering you so much: they really are in quite a state, my dear.”

“Been busy,” Crowley murmured defensively. “Had bigger issuesssssss-!” His weak excuse dissolved into a hiss as Aziraphale combed his fingers through the feathers, hooking out a loose quill.

“Well, let’s fix that now, shall we?”

Aziraphale continued to work, slowly and methodically, to tidy the demon’s neglected wings. A small pile of shed and broken feathers grew on the blanket, and Crowley found himself almost drifting off. The touch of Aziraphale’s soft, strong hands was a known comfort, but combined with the repetitive motions and relief from physical discomfort it completely turned his body and mind to mush.

If he’d known how much of his recent stress was amplified by the subconscious nagging of overstimulation in his wings he would’ve dealt with it a lot sooner.

“Are you feeling any better yet, my dear?” Aziraphale asked after a little while.

A soft, almost cat-like purr rumbled in Crowley’s chest. “Much.” Crowley turned his head to look over his shoulder, lowering his wing to see Aziraphale’s fond, focused face. “Thank you, angel.”

“That’s quite alright, my dear.” Aziraphale caught Crowley’s eye, then leaned forwards to press his smiling lips to the back of the demon’s neck. Crowley couldn’t help the light shudder that passed through his body.

Smoothing down the freshly ruffled coverts with a smirk, Aziraphale moved over to Crowley’s right wing and repeated the treatment.

The warm summer afternoon was just beginning to wind down by now, the lazy air filled with the singing of birds and crickets and bees. Crowley’s hand found the pile of dropped feathers and picked one up, absently running his fingers over the filaments. His skin remained unmarked, but he couldn’t shake the sensation of soot sloughing off the burned quill. Suddenly guilty of how dusty Aziraphale’s hands must feel from working on his wings for so long, Crowley dropped the feather he was holding and shifted, moving to fold his wings away.

“Sit still, Crowley,” Aziraphale scolded mildly, not realising the reason for the demon’s fidgeting. “I haven’t finished yet.”

“‘M sorry.” And then, when Aziraphale didn’t respond: “Sorry they’re so… unpleasant.”

Aziraphale’s hands didn’t faulter. “Unpleasant?”

Instinctively, Crowley’s free wing beat in three or four rapid strokes, as though to shake out the loose ash that he knew wasn’t actually there. “The… the texture. Burned.” Crowley wiped his hands on his jeans.

“You don’t have to apologise for anything, my dear,” Aziraphale told him quietly. Crowley felt him pause, and then the angel shifted so that he was instead sitting next to him, facing the opposite direction so that he could move his work to the ventral side of Crowley’s wings.

Crowley looked at him. Aziraphale’s pale hair was glowing in the sunlight, his round face washed with pink across the cheeks. Their eyes met, and Crowley’s heart swelled.

“I love you, angel.”

“I love you too, my dear.” Aziraphale shuffled slightly closer, so that their thighs were touching, and rested one hand on Crowley’s cheek. “All of you. Exactly as you are.”

Crowley kissed him then, closing the gap between them and trying to convey through the pressure of lips on lips all the emotions that he would never find words for. Aziraphale answered in kind, and for an eternal moment there was nothing in the world except an angel and a demon and a garden.

They broke the kiss eventually, but still sat a while longer leaning forehead to forehead, breathing each other’s air. Enjoying the peace of knowing that, finally, neither Heaven nor Hell nor the combined forces thereof would ever be able to separate them again.

Eternity is a long time, to be sure; but to spend it in each other’s company would be nothing but a privilege.

Crowley’s hand reached around Aziraphale’s back, rubbing over his shoulder blades as the angel had done to him, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he felt Aziraphale lean into the touch.

“Let me see yours too. Wanna return the favour.”

Aziraphale smiled fondly, and with another soft whoosh the angel’s wings manifested too, the pristine white illuminated from behind by the bright summer sun.

As Aziraphale finished stretching and lowered them back down, Crowley’s arm extended towards the nearer wing – Aziraphale’s right – and he couldn’t help the faint gasp as his hand brushed the edge of the largest primaries.

That really put his own scorched wings to shame: Aziraphale’s beautiful unblemished feathers were so extraordinarily soft that it was like stroking a cloud. Of course they had seen each other’s wings before, but never really to touch; never to properly appreciate so intimately. Aziraphale’s wings were truly those of a guardian – hope and comfort and protection and safety and power and home.

Aziraphale’s smile became, if possible, even more endeared at the awestruck adoration so starkly displayed in Crowley’s expression. Crowley continued to run his fingers over Aziraphale’s wing for a moment, not earnestly preening but just wanting to touch, to imprint the memory of his angel permanently onto every nerve ending of his physical body and every essence of his ethereal soul. God- Sat- oh, Someone, how did I come to deserve him?

Aziraphale squeaked in surprise, then chuckled as Crowley suddenly grabbed his wing and pulled it closer, burying his face in the plush white feathers and breathing in deeply, relishing the cold fresh scent of the universe beyond Earth.

“My dear, if you wanted to cuddle my wings you could have just asked without letting you own get so neglected just for the excuse.”

Slowly, and not a little reluctantly, Crowley sat up again. His eyes drank in the sight before him: his angel, warm and comforting amongst the saturation of the garden flora around them, wings and hair glowing in the sunlight.

“Look at you,” Crowley murmured, his yellow eyes locked on Aziraphale’s blue ones. “You’re gorgeous.”

Aziraphale melted; his face reddened even more, and a couple of flustered stutters escaped his lips. Crowley had the urge to kiss him again. Instead, his hand crept up to the wrist of the angel’s wing and plucked out a single downy feather. Aziraphale yelped lightly, the offended wing cuffing Crowley in his smirking face.

“Fiend,” Aziraphale muttered, in a voice dripping with affection. His own hands found their way back to Crowley’s wing, and then firmly and deliberately raked downwards through the feathers right near the base. Crowley let out a startled half-vocalised huff, his face reddening to match Aziraphale’s even as he unconsciously shifted closer to the angel’s touch.

They eventually got back on task, preening each other properly; swapping sides once they had finished on each first wing, and then Aziraphale turned around and allowed Crowley to go over the back of his wings, even though they really didn’t need it.

Crowley felt more relaxed than he could ever remember being at any point in his entire existence; here in the garden of their shared home with his angel, able to be and share themselves together, listening to the life of the world around them and feeling the weight of their bodies pressed together.

The rose bush could wait until tomorrow.

#good omentober #good omens #good omens fanfic

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