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A little band-aid for the fandom full of people I love.
I did love the ending but I wanted to do that for people who didn’t.
On Ao3
Rating G - 1778 words
“Say goodbye then.”
Hand in hand, Aziraphale and Crowley turned to face each other.
Their gazes were determined.
Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand, and Crowley squeezed back even tighter.
Aziraphale raised his left hand to his mouth, pressed a kiss to his index and middle fingers, and placed them on the demon’s lips.
Looking into Aziraphale’s eyes, Crowley kissed the angel’s fingers in return.
Then, there was nothing but the two of them smiling at each other until they disintegrated into tiny particles, together until the very end.
Then, complete darkness.
Then...
The scent of damp grass.
A sensation of light.
The ground beneath his body.
The warmth of a hand in his.
"Angel?"
Crowley!
Aziraphale opened his eyes but closed them again because of the light. He blinked several times to adjust to it.
Finally, he could see Crowley lying next to him and staring at him.
On the grass.
He had the same expression that Aziraphale must be having.
Total bewilderment.
"What the—?"
"No fucking idea."
They both sat up, dazed.
Suddenly, the sky parted, and a ray of sunlight illuminated everything around them, blindingly bright.
A familiar voice rang out, and they moved closer to each other instinctively.
Consider this the final move in my cosmic chess game.
Or rather, your final move.
The one that puts me in checkmate.
Your sacrifice.
The most selfless act I have ever witnessed since the creation of the universe.
The world is now restored to the way it was.
There will be no more God or Satan.
There will be no more angels or demons.
There will only be humans, except for you.
You will be neither angel nor demon nor human, but immortal.
You are now free to live for as long as you wish.
Until the world comes to an end.
Suddenly, the sky closed in.
The two of them stood there in a daze for a few seconds, unable to believe what had just happened.
Aziraphale whispered, "Just like that?"
"Just like that."
Crowley tried to stand up and groaned. Worried, Aziraphale turned to him. "Are you okay?"
"I think I need a glass of wine."
Aziraphale laughed softly.
"More like a bottle."
They stood up, and Aziraphale finally realized where they were.
Crowley mumbled, "There's something I'd really like to know: Where are we?"
Aziraphale smiled mysteriously and said, "That I can tell you, my dear. We’re in the South Downs.”
Crowley looked at him suspiciously and asked, "How do you know that?"
Aziraphale replied proudly, "Because we're home."
“Wait...home?” Wh—"
Aziraphale took Crowley's hand and turned around, showing him a small cottage at the end of the gravel path.
“Angel, explain this to me, because between the Big Boss’s latest stunt and this, it’s a lot to take in.”
Aziraphale’s cheerful expression faded. He took a step back and turned his back to Crowley.
After a few seconds, his voice slightly hoarse, he began to speak.
"After stopping Armageddon, I thought about your offer to go somewhere else. But another planet? Let’s be honest, both you and I love this one too much. So I acquired this marvel and prepared it little by little. I had it all planned out: There would have been a ball, and I would have made my move. We would have left together. But then Metatron appeared, and, well, you know the rest. It was another one of my ideas doomed to fail, but at least I tr-”
He stopped because two hands had rested on his shoulders, making him turn around.
Crowley’s eyes were shining with tears, as were Aziraphale’s. Both swallowed several times before being able to speak.
"I'm so—"
They laughed awkwardly because they started speaking at the same time.
A tear rolled down Aziraphale’s cheek.
"Oh, Angel..."
His voice breaking, Aziraphale whispered, “Crowley, please...”
“What, Angel?”
Aziraphale swallowed his tears several times before finally managing to continue.
“Hold me. I beg you. Hold me tight. If there’s something—”
He couldn't finish, though, because Crowley had wrapped his arms around the angel and held him close with all his strength. In turn, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the demon’s waist and grasped his jacket. They both let out a deep sigh, holding each other even tighter and letting the tears they’d been holding back for so long fall.
Finally.
They stood like that, embraced, for what seemed like an eternity.
Their hands clung to each other, squeezing again and again.
They stood like that until they had no more tears to shed.
After a moment, they loosened their grip without letting go. Just enough to be able to look at each other.
In a hoarse voice, Crowley softly said, “I can’t believe it.”
Aziraphale shook his head and replied, "Me neither. I suppose it’ll take time.”
Crowley nodded, then leaned forward and asked softly, "Angel, it's my turn to ask you something now."
Aziraphale frowned and asked, "What?"
Crowley released the angel and raised his hands to cup his face before whispering, “Can we have that kiss now?”
Aziraphale breathed out a quiet "Please," and Crowley closed the distance between them.
When their lips met, it was as if a new universe were being created.
They were driven by an urgency held in check for eons. They poured all their feelings into the kiss, finally freeing six thousand years of love from its shackles. Aziraphale slid his hands to the back of Crowley’s neck and gently tugged at his hair, pulling him closer. Crowley, in turn, pressed his hands against the angel’s face, his thumbs caressing his temples.
They were finally whole.
Both of them.
Complete.
After a while, their kiss slowed and became gentler, filled with infinite tenderness. They pulled apart imperceptibly, remaining forehead to forehead with their eyes closed and their breath coming in gasps.
"It took us a while, didn't it?" whispered Crowley, a smile stretching his lips.
Aziraphale pressed a light kiss to Crowley's nose just because he could and laughed softly.
They remained like that for a while, savoring this intimacy they could finally enjoy without fear. For the first time since creation, they were no longer the angel and the demon, just two immortal beings who could love each other without constraint.
Free.
Aziraphale whispered, "Free."
"Say it again, Angel."
“Free.”
"Again."
“Free.”
"Louder."
“We’re free!”
"LOUDER!"
Aziraphale broke away, spread his arms wide, and shouted to the sky, "We are free!"
Then he turned to Crowley, took his hand, and said, "Come on, my love. Shout it with me."
They took a deep breath, then shouted, "We are free!" at the top of their lungs before bursting into a liberating fit of laughter.
When they finally calmed down, still holding hands, Crowley said softly, “How about you give me a tour of the place, Angel?”
"But I'm not an angel anymore."
Crowley pressed a kiss to his temple and said adoringly, "But you'll always be my angel."
Aziraphale laughed softly, clearly delighted, and led Crowley toward the cottage.
Behind the closed doors, Crowley was quickly overwhelmed with emotion because everything about the way the cottage was arranged exuded love. In every detail that Aziraphale excitedly pointed out to him.
His angel had clearly thought of nothing but the two of them, and it was like being in love all over again.
His caring angel.
Aziraphale led him to the back door of the cottage. Once the door was open, they stepped into a garden that looked just as cozy as the house, though a bit less well-kept. There was a bench under an apple tree, and Crowley could already picture evenings spent sipping a glass of wine while gazing at the sky.
Perhaps even tonight.
He must have lost himself in thought for a bit too long because Aziraphale was looking at him with a slightly worried expression.
"Do you like it? If you don’t, I’m sure we could—"
Crowley chuckled softly. "It's fine, Angel. It’s more than perfect. You did a great job.”
"Really?"
Crowley shook his head gently. Some things never changed. Aziraphale still had his moments of doubt, but Crowley now had eternity to reassure him.
He turned to Aziraphale, gently stroked his cheek, and said, "You did very well, angel."
They both knew this was about much more than the cottage.
They still had plenty to discuss and unravel. They had all the time in the world to do so.
There was no longer any urgency; they were free to love each other and live by their own rules.
Crowley leaned in and captured the angel’s lips in a tender kiss that lingered as the sun sank behind the hills in the distance.
********
"Angel, I can't believe you, I mean, we have Château-Neuf-du-Pape here."
It was a little later that evening. They’d had a light dinner in the cottage and decided to spend the rest of the evening in the garden.
Their garden.
“What better way to celebrate the first day of the rest of our lives?”
“You’re right.”
With a glass in each hand, Crowley joined Aziraphale, who was sitting on the bench with his knees covered by a blanket.
Crowley sat down next to him, handed him a glass, and covered his own knees with the blanket.
He chuckled softly. "Tartan, of course."
"Tartan is—"
"Nope, you're not finishing that sentence."
They both chuckled at the memory.
Aziraphale raised his glass and said softly, "To our world... and to us."
Crowley clinked his glass against Aziraphale's and repeated, "To our world...and to us."
Then, they quietly sipped their wine until the glasses were empty.
After setting the glasses on the ground, Crowley leaned back against the bench and wrapped his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders.
Aziraphale curled up against him, resting his head on Crowley’s chest.
They both let out a sigh of contentment and laughed at the same time.
The sky was clear, and the starry night was magnificent.
"We could get a telescope."
"Hmm, and maybe we could put up some string lights."
"Maybe we could have a little garden."
“Crowley.”
"Yes, Angel?"
“Do you have any other wishes? Is there anything else you want?"
Crowley smiled gently, looked up at the sky, and said softly, "I don't need anything else. I have our world, and I have you."
He cupped Aziraphale’s chin and lifted it toward him. “I have everything I’ve ever wanted,” he continued.
Aziraphale whispered, "Me too."
Their lips met in a tender kiss that lasted a few moments. Not even the nightingale’s song could disturb their embrace.
They had the world.
They had each other.
For the first time in eternity, they had everything they wanted.
There are few things worse than going around the supermarket with your music app on shuffle and having the strains of ‘I Forgive You’ or ‘Don’t Bother’ hitting you in the feels.
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"We have a lot in common" = we have many shared viewpoints, struggles, joys, traits, backgrounds, hobbies, interests, dreams, etc.. Also...
"We have a lot in common" = we have a shared lot-- that which we have been dealt in life-- in the angels and demons of Heaven and Hell, and the traumas we deal with as a result of them. Because we're partners, ours is a shared lot of both sides and one another's issues. Also...
"We have a lot in common" = we also have a shared lot of one another, and humanity. We are one another's lot, one another's side, and we're both on the side of humanity, rather than on the sides of Heaven or Hell. Also...
"We have a lot in common" = we own a lot-- a portion-- of land together. A doubly funny pun, since they technically own a lot-- as in, many-- of lots, being that they own the land of Whickber Street. However, there's also the possibility that...
"We have a lot in common" = we own a house on a bit of land together.
This is, technically, already true in 1862, because the bookshop is theirs. All that is Aziraphale's is Crowley's and vice-versa. The comment could just be about the bookshop easily but if we were to find out in S3 that they've had for ages now, say, a lot of land in the South Downs on which a certain cottage stands? Since sometime pre-1862? Then here was subtle mention of the cottage in one of the flashbacks.
It wouldn't necessarily be the only one, either. In the Eleven Years Ago part of 1.01, when Crowley was listing things that Aziraphale loves that he would lose if Armageddon were to happen-- and all of those things were also euphemistic for other things? [After all, no matter how much one loves literal gravlax in dill sauce, it's pretty obvious that had another layer of meaning 😂...] Anyway, one of the things Crowley mentioned then was Glyndebourne, the famous opera house that, prior to the 1930s, used to be an English country house. It's located in? East Sussex, part of which is in the South Downs.
Glyndebourne could very easily have been euphemistic for their country house, in addition to just being something in its own right that Aziraphale would miss. Crowley means every one of the above things with "we have a lot in common" at once-- it's not only one of them-- but I think that the fun question to ask is whether or not this list should also include a certain country house to which they might be moving in the end of S3.
I think I’ve spotted a Dr Who Easter Egg in the Companion to Owls episode. When Jimbriel asks Aziraphale “What comes after K?”, he turns away and my eyes could be deceiving me, but I’m sure he had a question mark embroidered on one side of his shirt collar.
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Gabriel, an angel, was initially incapable of recognizing Beelzebub, a demon, after Beez changed their face.
This, despite having known Beez for millennia, having been expecting their arrival, and with Beez wearing pretty much what Beez has been wearing for the last few centuries.
Gabriel isn't an idiot, nor does he need glasses, so the only conclusion to draw here is that angels can't recognize demons without being told who they are looking at by a demon-- likely a result of the demons being considered Lucifer's property who can also act as Satan in their roles as diabolical ministers.
This is also why Crowley didn't identify himself to Sitis in any way that spoke to him having his own identity. He couldn't when on assignment to do the work of Satan for Satan.
The Devil doesn't tell you they're The Devil-- you've got to be able to recognize him.
Beez, after changing their face, had to reintroduce themselves to Gabriel-- had to identify themselves to him by name-- in order for Gabriel to be able to see them there.
I bring this up because Beez, in that scene, had no ulterior motives and wasn't trying to hide their identity. They were honest about who they were with Gabriel and wanted him to see them. But...
...what if another demon wasn't as honest?
What if they wanted an angel to see them as someone else, instead of who they really were?
If only a demon can truly identify a demon to an angel, then a demon who didn't want to say who they truly were-- like, say, Lucifer himself-- would need another demon to identify them incorrectly to an angel or angels because those angels otherwise wouldn't be able to recognize him. After all, angels, by definition, are not familiars of The Devil.
And if the other demon would not help with this deception willingly? Well... that would be when it becomes relevant that this story began by establishing that Satan can take forcibly take control of the demons.
The person with the coffee never actually said who they were. Instead, they forced the one person in the room vulnerable to their possession to incorrectly identify them to the angels.
Michael and the others never stopped to consider that Crowley, in this instance, was not a reliable source... or why it was that none of them could recognize the person who came through the door.
Crowley was a lot more right about what was going on in S2 back in S1:
Phrenology, as everyone knows, is a way of reading someone's character, aptitude and abilities by examining the bumps and hollows on their head.
Therefore - according to the kind of logical thinking that characterises the Ankh-Morpork mind - it should be possible to mould someone's character by giving them carefully graded bumps in all the right places.
You can go into a shop and order an artistic temperament with a tendency to introspection and a side order of hysteria.
What you actually get is hit on the head with a selection of different size mallets, but it creates employment and keeps the money in circulation, and that the main thing.
you reblogged a post and tagged it gnu terry pratchett,,, what does gnu mean????
In his Discworld book, Going Postal, the late Terry Pratchett introduced a telegraph/internet hybrid called "the clacks".
It could be a dangerous job, and when a worker died in service, his name was passed around in memorium by other clacks workers with "GNU" at the beginning, which was clacks instructions to circulate it, despite not being any sort of "official" message.
"A man is not dead while his name is still spoken," is a quote from Going Postal, and it is a message the fandom has taken to heart, using Terry's own in-universe jargon in post notes (it also can be found in Discworld-related email and website headers).
In other words, this is how fans continue to love and honor a man who was very important to us.
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Funny thing, I know exactly what image I've looked at the most in my life. I've looked at it a lot over the years. I've looked at it in book stores, I've looked at it in at work while looking at my Libby queue, I've looked at it in my room after putting down a really good book, and I've looked at it when figuring out books to recommend to friends. it's this
the Discworld reading order guide graphic. It's been instrumental to the maintenance of my mental health if I'm being entirely honest. A glorious and perfect image in my mind. I'm not embarrassed to say I'll just look at it when I'm bored. I've likely memorized most of it and yet I still reference it to make absolutely sure. It's glorious.
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