Comic Geekery

On the one hand, some of it is lovely. It looks thoughtful and aware of GO's queer audience and our enthusiasm. They're also donating all profits to queer charities. That's nice.

But this is all now tied to a show that killed its queer-coded protagonists, that never let them so much as hug even as human shadows of themselves. A show that gave us no answers about Maggie and Nina except that they lost the businesses they loved. A show that killed a queer man between seasons and left his spouse thinking he'd committed suicide. A show that took a fan-favorite nonbinary character and had them die while cheerfully insisting that they had always been an idiot.

Does the store have the right to sell pride merch after that finale?

The store is run by Terry Pratchett's estate and has no financial or business affiliation with Neil Gaiman. Can I take it enough on faith that they didn't endorse how the queer characters were treated in the end?

I did buy these pins, despite my qualms. They're the most overt acknowledgement we've ever gotten of Crowley and Aziraphale connecting with human queer identities. I found that, for all my heartbreak, I couldn't say no to that.

The package also came with a note.

What does it mean that a package that sold me a pin of Aziraphale with rainbow wings also includes a note that says he has no idea what those colors mean? What Pride is? "Aziraphale" thanks me for being me and tells me to love bravely, but can't say the word gay (let alone any of the other words).

Is this the intersection of good intentions and fear of corporate punishment? Or just an empty attempt to maintain ally points?

With a show that concluded with the death of every single character and an attempt to say that our real, nonmagical world was the real happy ending, why include this note that takes place in some whimsical non-time during season two? Maybe Rob Wilkins and the rest of the Terry Pratchett estate are sending little cues that we should ignore the finale. Maybe it isn't that deep and they just thought it would be cute.

My package also included a free bookmark.

And I think this is the best symbol of how Good Omens failed its fans. Saying "Love is Love" with romantic leads who aren't even touching.

On the one hand, some of it is lovely. It looks thoughtful and aware of GO's queer audience and our enthusiasm. They're also donating all profits to queer charities. That's nice.

But this is all now tied to a show that killed its queer-coded protagonists, that never let them so much as hug even as human shadows of themselves. A show that gave us no answers about Maggie and Nina except that they lost the businesses they loved. A show that killed a queer man between seasons and left his spouse thinking he'd committed suicide. A show that took a fan-favorite nonbinary character and had them die while cheerfully insisting that they had always been an idiot.

Does the store have the right to sell pride merch after that finale?

The store is run by Terry Pratchett's estate and has no financial or business affiliation with Neil Gaiman. Can I take it enough on faith that they didn't endorse how the queer characters were treated in the end?

I did buy these pins, despite my qualms. They're the most overt acknowledgement we've ever gotten of Crowley and Aziraphale connecting with human queer identities. I found that, for all my heartbreak, I couldn't say no to that.

The package also came with a note.

What does it mean that a package that sold me a pin of Aziraphale with rainbow wings also includes a note that says he has no idea what those colors mean? What Pride is? "Aziraphale" thanks me for being me and tells me to love bravely, but can't say the word gay (let alone any of the other words).

Is this the intersection of good intentions and fear of corporate punishment? Or just an empty attempt to maintain ally points?

With a show that concluded with the death of every single character and an attempt to say that our real, nonmagical world was the real happy ending, why include this note that takes place in some whimsical non-time during season two? Maybe Rob Wilkins and the rest of the Terry Pratchett estate are sending little cues that we should ignore the finale. Maybe it isn't that deep and they just thought it would be cute.

My package also included a free bookmark.

And I think this is the best symbol of how Good Omens failed its fans. Saying "Love is Love" with romantic leads who aren't even touching.

"Love is not a sin" - Inspired by the song "AppleTree" by Aurora

I thought about just tagging this 'nuff said, but it's not.

I want to say something to all of the women under 50 on this site. Ready? You do not have to be over 50 to start taking up space.

During one of Crowley’s brief windows of consciousness Aziraphale made a bit of a show of conjuring a large, shallow basket, lining it with soft tartan wool and one of his own vests, and then making a place for it in a miraculous little spot of sunshine on his desk.

A sort of initial surprise, a need for clarification. And then some selection or combination of a) an insistence I'm wrong/lying, b) defensiveness, or c) anger.

And I think there are a lot of underlying reasons for those responses, many of which are probably difficult to untangle But I think some part is that people feel judged, even when i'm just neutrally stating my own preferences.

This can probably happen any time someone admits they're not interested in something you are, even stuff as innocuous as a sports team or media genre. But alcohol and sex in particular... These are topics with very strong but contradictory associations within society. To be cool, you're supposed to have sex/drink-- but only the Right Way, with the Right People. Otherwise it's "cringe" at best, "immoral" at worst. More than that, what counts as the Right Way, and the Right People, will vary from (sub-)culture to (sub-)culture, which means you're trying to adhere to a set of "rules" that is ever changing, ever shifting.

I do not believe that. I believe that both sex and drinking are, in of themselves, morally neutral acts. I believe that you can do immoral things with(in) them (e.g. Sexual assault, driving under the influence). I think there are possible health impacts you should be aware of before engaging with them (e.g. the risk of STIs or liver disease, etc), and that there are precautions people might want to consider to minimize those risks. But that's the true of frankly every activity, to a greater or lesser extent.

People who get uncomfortable about my asexuality and non-drinking rarely ask me my attitudes, and won't be particularly receptive to my attempts to clarify them. I suspect that's because they haven't actually interrogated these attitudes themselves. They are still harbouring internalised guilt, that sense on some level that drinking and sexuality are wrong.

So this is just a theory, it could certainly be crushed or buoyed if anyone digs into the data, but it's an idea that's been echoing in my mind lately. 

I think tragic endings for minority characters (PoC, queer people, the disabled, etc.) come from allies. 

Specifically the tragic endings that the audience is supposed to feel sad about. Not the death of the walking Evil Stereotype that a bigot might write. No, I'm talking about every black friend who dies first. Every heart-of-gold little person who sacrifices their life for heroes to live. Every gay couple who's torn apart or murdered to show the bleak cruelty of the world. 

I think that all of these tragic cliches come from creators who wanted to be inclusive. They wanted to bring in the types of characters that don't usually get their stories told. The real world is diverse and we should use that diversity to tell richer stories. But then, perhaps even as a completely unrelated thought, the creator also wants to pull in the realism of the darkest parts of life. And what characters could possibly be more powerful victims?

We have a separate problem in storytelling, of only bestowing respect on the stories that are both the most realistic and the most bleak. Happy endings are simplistic and shallow. A romantic comedy could never be worthy of a Pulitzer. Nevermind that people fall in love and find happy satisfaction every day in the real world, it's still not "real" enough. 

So we have two trends converging in the minds of far too many authors and screenwriters: the enlightened choice to include minorities and the need to inflict poetic devastation. And I truly think that every time these impulses meet, the writer thinks it's completely organic. 

“It's not falling into a cliche! It's me telling a powerful, moving story, not flinching even when the story calls for a painful confrontation with reality! How dare you call my writing racist/queerphobic/ableist! Don't you know I'm one of the good ones??”

Of course, this tends to come from the usual culprits: cis, white, able-bodied men. Sometimes women too, but the majority are men. These guys are far from the majority of writers, but unfortunately they're still the overwhelming majority of writers that get a major platform. 

I do believe that usually mean well on one level or another. The problem is that they don’t understand. They often fail to understand the basic personhood of minorities, but more insidiously they don’t understand what it means to deny us happy endings.

Minorities do not lack for pain in our lives. We know, either personally or culturally, that the world does not favor us. Often doesn’t even think about us. It’s hope that’s underrepresented. Not just in terms of getting to stop the bad guys or find true love, but in as simple a way as wondering what paths we even have in life.

How am I supposed to be happy? What does that even look like? If I’m never going to be a celebrity, what else is there? There’s a void there that the straight, white, and able-bodied never have to face. It’s certainly left me feeling like my chief responsibilities in life are to stay out of the way and not be a burden.

For most of a decade now, I’ve been a very big fan of the show Good Omens. I know that there’s a range of opinions on the finale, but for me it was devastating. I related to the main characters so strongly as a queer person who was deeply mistreated by their family. Their story felt like a guiding light for whether or not I could be okay myself one day.

Then, somehow, this romantic comedy that gave every signal that the leads would come back together and finally know free love and peace instead ended with their suicides. And it felt like a fresh message about just what the world at large thinks of people like me. About what needs to happen to us in a ‘good’ story.

The finale to Good Omens was cruel to a lot of other queer characters too. Two disappeared in financial ruin with no sign if they ever got to be together. One died of an overdose that his spouse feared was a suicide. One died on screen, while explicitly telling us that they had always been an idiot. As far as I am aware, there were no queer people at all involved in the story or filming decisions of the episode. But I could have told you that without investigating. This is the core of why we desperately need more minority creators in prominent projects. Because we understand our stories in the big ways and the little ones. We know how to use tragedy against ourselves because we know what that knife feels like. We know just how dire the need is to help our communities heal the wounds we already have.

It would always include listening to each other, of course. No one person can represent every identity. We need teams and sensitivity readers and the constant feedback of every kind of audience. It’s a matter that brings up complicated and uncomfortable questions. Are studios too greedy to take chances? Are majority audiences too bigoted, or at least insulated, to learn to love new kinds of protagonists? Do minority creators need more grace and training to make up for generations of absent opportunities to learn the rules that big names take for granted?

For today though, I want to wearily demand that we all stop treating minority characters like seasoning. Stop acting like all we are is their poetic tragedy. It’s not beautiful. It’s not powerful. It’s just another boot stepping on us on the way to their happy ending.

Humans are messy, we live under systems that try to control how we live, there's people in power who hurt us and oppress us, there's inequality, injustices...the world, it can sometimes suck.

But then, I look around and there is my loved ones who make me laugh even when my heart hurts, i feel the deep breaths i take which are provided by the trees around me, the coffees which have a taste that make every morning worth it, the people who presist to do good and be kind even when everything is against them, the animals whom find shelter in the natural world and what it provides them, my treasured cats and my gentle dogs who shower me with so much hope and comfort.

There is the books i read that are written by other people with so much soul and personal touch, the art that expose vulnarbilities in ways that no emotion can fully express, the movies and series which are made by a collaboration of humans who care about craft and stories that are being told. The melodies and lyrics that create a sound that thousands connect too. The communities that are found by said mediums, the bonds that are made.

There's so much love in this world. Mothers and fathers who love their children. Children who have dysfyuncitional families and found warmth elsewhere, outside of blood. There's a people who love their dog. Their cat. Their hamster. Their fish. There is teachers who care for their students, there is grandmas who love their grandchildren, granpas who love their sons and daughters. People who love so much despite loss, their love poured in so many laughter and wails. There are people who find ways to love each other, who find community, despite systems that try to oppress them.

There are many families, acquaintances, friends, couples, and many many strangers who will choose to love, who will offer a hand instead of turning away. To create instead of destroy, to hope instead of surrender.

So thats why I reject the ending in Go3 that erases this essence and message that made the show worth it. Crowley and Azirraphale loved earth! They loved humans and our unpredictable nature. They were delighted by shared meals, treasured music and books, cared for animals, and protected spaces that people had poured love into creating.

Aziraphale found warmth in his bookshop. Crowley found fascination in the plants he grew. And most importantly, an angel and a demon, gained free will by finding love with each other. They chose each other, again and again, over the expectations of Heaven and Hell.

Aziraphale and Crowley were constantly fighting for a life to simply live. To be an us. To spend time together without fear, to love each other openly and without shame. They were meant to deconstruct the beliefs they had been taught and defy the systems that demanded the opposite of what they truly wanted.

Their love for Earth and for each other is what made this story matter. Crowley would never have chosen to destroy the universe instead of finding a way to save the world he had spent six thousand years falling in love with. He would have fought for it, just as he always had. He would have searched for another way, questioned every impossible solution, and refused to accept that destruction was the only answer.

And he would have chosen to live beside the angel he had loved for centuries.

Because that was always the point. Crowley and Aziraphale weren't trying to become heroes. They weren't searching for power or purpose beyond themselves. All they really wanted was something beautifully ordinary. Breakfasts, bookshops, greenery, rainy afternoons, lunches at the Ritz, late night car drives, sunsets, music, and watching humanity continue to surprise them.

Earth, even with its corrupt systems, doesn't need to stop existing. It needs to exist despite them. That's why there is so much love and so much kindness—emotions that stir people to challenge injustice instead of surrendering to it. To rebuild instead of erase.

The world has never been beautiful because it was perfect. It is beautiful because, despite everything that is broken, people continue to love. They continue to make art, plant gardens, rescue animals, raise children, protect one another, and dream of something better.

Aziraphale and Crowley's characters represent exactly that hope. They show that people are not defined by the systems they are born into, but by the choices they make.

An angel and a demon, raised to believe they were destined to stand on opposite sides forever, discovered that they could be destined for each other instead. That the lines they had been taught to never cross were never as important as the bond they built by choosing one another, day after day, century after century.

it starts as it ends, with a garden ... and two supernatural beings sharing a moment together