Renz (he/ they) and I’d like to announce that The Queer Angel & Demon Yearning Has Me In A Half Decade Chokehold 23 years on this planet and counting Side Blog @ineffableclassics
May or may not be insane and making a good omens musical out of scrap metal and a dream and been doing so for over a year… currently chronological up until the ending gramophone sound.
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1. The Nazis recognized Crowley. They had never personally encountered him before - “Mr. Anthony J. Crowley! Your fame precedes you.” But they knew him by reputation; enough to know his full name, and to recognize him on sight.
2. The Nazis obviously have some kind of grudging admiration/respect for Crowley, and yet also were immediately prepared to murder him as well. “The famous Mr. Crowley. Such a pity you must both die.”
3. Rather than pulling the trigger immediately, the Nazis hesitate and listen to Crowley when he starts telling them something Very Important - but then scoff, and immediately assume he is feeding them false information.
4. Crowley knew that the bombs that night were due to fall on the East End, and had sufficient warning of such to be able to pull off his ‘last-minute demonic intervention’ to get them to drop on the church instead.
5. Crowley knew about the gang of half-witted Nazi spies running around London blackmailing and murdering people.
6. Crowley knew down to the minute exactly when a Nazi spy deal involving Aziraphale was about to go down in that church.
Crowley was working with British counter-intelligence.
Ok, but now I want to read the fic where Crowley is hanging out with a bunch of spies in some secret bunker and they’re talking about an operation the Nazis are running and how they’ve got this bookseller duped, and Crowley is like “Ha! What an idiot.” and then the surveillance photos come out and head meets desk cos “Oh, no. That’s MY idiot.”
Crowley was working with the Boffins at the Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare and you will never convince me otherwise because 1) that name would have been like catnip to him if he didn’t think it up himself, and 2) who the fuck else would be sitting there in brainstorming sessions going “Put a bomb in a dead rat. Let them blow themselves up”
Literally, the whole point of the SOE “revolved around sabotaging and subverting the Axis war machines through indirect methods” and half of them were usually batshit fucking insane. THAT’S HIM. THAT IS HIM IN A NUTSHELL.
believe that Crowley was involved with Actual Very Serious Wartime Intelligence Efforts, because I have a great big vulnerable spot and it is labeled, ‘Crowley and Aziraphale decide that London is their city, heavenly and infernal policy decisions be damned, and any powers that want to raze her from the maps will have them to contend with’.
wholeheartedly and unquestioningly accept this Chaotic Good Crowley headcanon.
#also like………… crowley and aziraphale during the blitz #crowley at the very least has Connections in the intelligence community #and aziraphale UNRELATEDLY finds a note shoved under the door from time to time - dates; times; places #it’s usually not more than a day’s notice but it’s enough #enough for aunty aziraphale to spread the word around soho #enough for the lost and the bright and the castaways and the defiant who still must live and love in secret #to dress Appropriately and wipe off their faces before they must seek shelter with the rest of London packed tight underground #(aziraphale cannot decide if this is grace or if it is an indignity) #(he thinks of crowley huddled in the hold of an ark with two score mesopotamian children and says nothing) #the whole earth is shaking and dust is falling from the brickwork and even as mothers try to soothe their wailing children #the lights flicker and then go out - and come back and then go out #on and off and on and off #and pressed against the wall of the tube station aziraphale sees a gleam of golden eyes on the opposite side #meeting his gaze across the huddled shapes illuminated by the flickering light #all those humans casting their eyes up in supplication to something far above them #and down in the dirt and the noise and the shaking aziraphale and crowley don’t need to say anything #as the bombs fall - they’re both concentrating as hard as ever they can #not here #not here. #not there #some have to hit; otherwise there will be questions #but not all of them #the foundations of structures remain #more live than would have otherwise #maybe that’s enough #either way - aziraphale knows it will not be long until the next note is shoved beneath his door in that familiar chicken-scratch lettering #and so all he can do is this: keep calm. and carry on.
I think the Book of Job minisode is everything that Good Omens should be.
- Religious satire/commentary (the absurdity regarding the bet with Job, the archangels being generally clueless, the deconstruction of how to-the-letter you need to be with following the laws of religion)
- Genuinely funny (Ty Tennant having like 3 minutes of screen time and out-fruiting his dad, Jemima and her pot and wanting to be turned into a salamander, Bildad the Shuhite and all that that entails)
- an emotional, character-driven core (Aziraphale learning the limits of his own morality, the discussion of the role good and evil play in events and how each is perceived when done by different parties, learning just how similar Aziraphale and Crowley are as it pertains to personal desires (which we as the viewer know, but chronologically it’s one of the first times they connect like they do)
And of course
- the undertones (Crowley tempting Aziraphale into eating which, with the way Aziraphale devours that meat, has zero chance of not being a metaphor for some kind of physical relationship; the nature of being just a little bit different than your peers, and how that affects your views of yourself; and the purely humanistic, just-this-once-everybody-lives kind of narrative that emphasizes the importance and power of familial and interpersonal relationships)
The silliest thing I find about this whole "they only got 30 years together in the end with no memories of their shared history so what was the point" is that EVERYONE THINKS THEY ONLY MET EACH OTHER IN THIS ONE SINGULAR LIFETIME REALITY instead of my immediate thought that as its architects, Aziraphale and Crowley were wound so deep into the fabric of the new universe that there is a version of them finding each other and falling in love every single generation for billions and billions of years??????
A Roman version and a French Revolution version and a WWII version and ON AND ON AND ON AND ON AND---
For goodness sake the song that plays over this version of them finding and falling in love is "Time After Time"! THE IMPLICATION IS THAT THEY WILL ALWAYS FIND EACH OTHER!!!!!! ***ALWAYS*** IN EVERY LIFETIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thats up to interpretation. We’re shown no textual evidence of that, and using the song and end credits as proof doesn’t account to much, because the credits have always been an ‘artistic liberty’ type thing, and the song is just that, a song. Not a promise that what you’re hearing is exactly what’s happening, it’s just a general theme.
If we’re taking implications as canonical evidence, the implication of no angels and demons means that there’s no magic, no reincarnation, no ‘other lifetimes’ (see how my interperetation of the implications is different? This is because there’s no explicit factual data to base off of, so there’s no way to confirm any one interpretation is right or wrong)
And if they DID become these ever-present entities finding each other throughout time and space, why not show us that? Why show us the lamest excuses for revamped characters with one definitive ending (human, limited lifetime together), instead of what is said to be implied (present across the fabric of reality.)
I’d be able to accept the ‘always finding each other’ interpretation if there were literally ANY clues in the actual story, but there aren’t. Even the snow globe can’t be used as proof because it’s an easter egg at best
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everyone has a ship thats just: theyre perfect. they hate each other. theyre married. they havent spoken in 15 years. they have date nights three times a week. theyre divorced. theyre pining, its unrequited. its requited. theyre starcrossed. theyre meant to be. theyre doomed by the narrative. they love each other. theyve never held hands. they wont stop making out at parties. they cant look each other in the eye
Crowley who asked to go off together to alpha centauri when the world was ending, Crowley "tell me you said no" when the world was ending again, but was fine with staying there when the world truly ending? I don't buy it. He wouldn't let that happen to Aziraphale, he wouldn't let him die like that
My new aziracrow fic, written for @magnusbane-cateyes in The Nice and Accurate Atelier Fic/Art Exchange 2026, is up! Inspired by her art. It’s the cutest fic I’ve ever written, and I believe we all need this now😌 There’s The Picnic, there’s a beach, there’s love.
Rated: M
Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale
Words: 6,706
Summary: After Armageddon doesn't happen, Crowley and Aziraphale are trying to find their feet in the new, overwhelming world of freedom. Everything is fine, but Crowley is experiencing strange aftereffects of the body swap.
Having a giggle over a bit I just jotted down for the GO historical fic I've got in bits and pieces ... A bit at the lunch after the Bastille, where Crowley admits to accidentally starting the American Revolution when all he was SUPPOSED to do was start some unrest the British would then make a crushing example out of.
Crowley being in France suddenly is "plausible deniability" (in his own words) 😂 Here's the unedited bit (I haven't filled in all the action/tag lines):
“Where have you been?”
“Boston. I was supposed to start a rebellion. Dump some tea in the harbor. Y’know, cause unrest. Then the Royal Army would put it down. Lots of bloodshed and grumbling, and souls Hell wanted.”
“So what are you doing here?”
“Plausible deniability,” Crowley muttered. “Those blessed colonists were more determined than I planned on. They were still fighting when I got myself out of there, before Hell got wind it got all fucked up. ‘Least if I’m here, I can claim it was to start all this, and I had nothing to do with,” he waved one hand in the direction of the Americas, “that.”
Aziraphale hid an indulgent smile behind his wine goblet. "You really are terrible at being a demon, sometimes."
"Says the angel who, up until an hour ago was locked in the Bastille, waiting to be discorporated, because he wouldn't use one teensy miracle," Crowley bantered back.
Can we tell I've just been watching Hamilton and GO back-to-back? lol
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TL;DR: Thank you, tumblr and AO3 people for keeping the charm and fun of Good Omens alive despite... ~waves hands about~ everything.
It's been two months since Good Omens "season" 3 aired and I still feel sick to my stomach when I think about it.
My first experience was reading the book in the very late 90s. I thought it a charming story, but the only thing that really stuck with me over the years was the gag about all cassettes left in one's car turn into the "Best of Queen".
Twenty years later, I saw an advertisement for a television adaptation staring David Tennant (*heart eyes*) and Michael Sheen ("ooh. he's great"). I watched the first episode, got distracted by a shiny object, and forgot to go back. Season two dropped. I realized I hadn't watched all of season 1, got distracted by another shiny object, and forgot to go back.
The teaser for season three appeared in my YouTube suggestions page in early May and it captured my attention. I decided to give the show another shot because third time's the charm, right? I burned through season 1 and cheerfully started up season 2. S2 felt... weird. I couldn't quite put my finger on it until about midway through when I realized that it was, at its heart, fan-fiction. Sheen and Tennant were still acting their faces off, but I simply didn't care about the modern-day plot. The flashbacks, though, made the series worthwhile.
And then I got to the Final 15. Crowley's anguished groan after "And I would like to spend..." broke the handle on my waterworks and I was a snotty, teary mess who cried so hard I gave myself a headache. That was May 10.
Honest to goodness, I don't know how the fandom made it through the break. Y'all had three years to stew. I had only three days. Oof. As broken-hearted as I was, I didn't know if I could handle the 90 minute finale, BUT the trailer looked like a fun romp and I dove straight in.
It was not a fun romp. The waterworks started in the garden and didn't let up. I didn't sleep that night. I discussed it with a Brit friend who tried cheering me up with "but they had dinner together!" It still didn't sit right. I spent the next week and a half in a daze, trying to figure out why I couldn't let go of the terrible, awful, soul-crushing feeling.
Exactly two weeks after the finale, my husband and I were in London and one of my must-see spots was AziraCrow's bench in St. James's Park (it wasn't a must-see but when we passed the stairs and terrace where Crowley still owes Aziraphale lunch, I got giggly). Seeing and sitting upon the bench made me so happy because it was a S1 location. Deep down, though, was a puddle of sadness that I still couldn't name.
I floundered a bit longer and then I remembered one of the main homes of fandom: tumblr. I dusted off my old account and looked up everything with a Good Omens tag. There it was! A shared dissatisfaction. And grief. I finally had a name for that gnawing pain. And pointers to fix-it fics! It was time to dust off my AO3 account and dive into *good* fanfiction which made silk purses out of the canonical turd.
It's two months since GO3 aired and the pain is lessening every day. The 14th century is in the rearview and I have you marvelous bloggers and writers and artists and fanvid-producers and creatives of all kinds to thank for healing my heart. Thank you.
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