Aziraphale - Blog Posts
Good Omens (2019)
That’s it. That’s the show.
Based on this post.
The new-TV-GoodOmens fanon tendency to take Aziraphale’s very-soft presentation as unadorned truth is be/amusing to me.
He was the angel left to guard one of the Gates to Eden and he did in fact have a flaming sword. He is also the one who WOULD have shot Adam, had Madame Tracy not intervened.
He is also the angel who’s response to “wait I need to get back to Earth to stop Armageddon” is to do something that clearly SCARED THE SHIT out of the other angels who watched him do it, with a malicious-glee-glint in his eye, who hopped disembodied down to earth, and then floated around to try to find the right place.
He also, well. Fucked around with Heaven at all. There’s such a thread of comic corporate-absurd involved that it can be easy to miss, but what we’re shown is that the hierarchy of Heaven is just as happy as that of Hell to murder, torture, restrain, make captive and otherwise punish its own in the most horrible ways possible and in fact they’re far more effective at it. They just have a lot of Rules they follow, whereas Hell acts on a whim.
And there’s Aziraphale running around lying to them and pulling the wool over their eyes and so on. Something which, very clearly, none of those other angels are interested in doing.
Fundamentally Aziraphale is a stone cold agent of divine wroth.
He just doesn’t want to be.
He doesn’t like being like that. He doesn’t like suffering, his own or other people’s. All those times Crowley saves him, it’s important to keep in mind that Aziraphale’s in no more fundamental danger than he is when he loses his corporal form in the bookshop fire: if Crowley hadn’t shown up to save him in the church, for example, all that would have happened is that either a) he would have been discorporated and had to wait in line for a new body (or risk being reassigned) or b) Aziraphale would have had to do something Nasty to the Nazis there in order to save himself that trouble.
He doesn’t like either of those options! Those are both crappy options. But they’re not existential threats.
I’m the nice one he snaps when Crowley’s too busy having his Moment over his Bentley to take care of dealing with the soldier.
Aziraphale doesn’t like having to be cruel, or mean, or scary, or stone cold. He doesn’t enjoy it and given the choice he will in fact choose not to be.
What Crowley saves him from, over and over again, isn’t actually being killed.
Because what interests Crowley in him, and we see that, all the way back, is that very first instance of Aziraphale choosing not to be that person. That first time when what Aziraphale was supposed to be was Stern and Frightening and Judgemental and Harsh and Terrifying … . and instead he chose to court potential punishment (and actual existential threat) to give the people he was supposed to Terrify a way to protect themselves from all the scary things.
Aziraphale doesn’t want to be an instrument of judgement and wrath and what Crowley keeps saving him from is having to be. Crowley condemns the bloodthirsty executioner, so that Aziraphale doesn’t have to; blows up the Nazis so Aziraphale doesn’t have to.
Lets Aziraphale be the nice one, in fact.
Which I think is frankly far more fucking adorable.
But never let it make you think that Aziraphale is the safe one, or the helpless one.
He’s the one who, when faced with the apparent choice between killing a child and the end of the world, chooses to kill the child. Actually chooses to do it - not just plan, not just talk about, not just contemplate, but do it - and is only saved from having done it by sharing the body of someone who won’t let him.
Aziraphale is soft and slightly silly and gentle and non-confrontational and all of those things because that’s what he wants to be. He has fought for a long time to get to be that.
This is important.
like a prayer for which no words exist
[Read here on AO3]
There are places [1] Crowley likes to go when it all gets to be a little much, like a snake seeking a hole for refuge from a storm. That Aziraphale is the storm is surprising, or maybe not surprising at all. These places are holy - lowercase h - in that they are undisturbed, protected, and treasured. A reprieve. An indrawn breath before drowning. They are places Crowley goes that Aziraphale does not visit. That’s not to say that the angel doesn’t know where they are, simply that he does not go where Crowley does not ask for him.
[1] A rooftop garden in New York City. A cozy nook inside St. Paul’s. A patch of red dirt outside Tuscon, Arizona. An old iron bench just outside Kensington Gardens. The bosom of Eden.The edge of the World. Others, dozens maybe, that Crowley knows by feel and not name.
He’s in New York two days after the Apocolypse-That-Wasn’t, high up in a humid class cage full of shivering plants that know both fear and reverence. The Orchids have become fussy in his absence refusing to stand straight out of pure defiance. The English Ivy, the oldest, grows thick and lovely in creeping vines along the ceiling and walls. It almost seems to sigh at Crowley as he brandishes a pair of shears menacingly at the disobedient Orchids.
“Not you as well,” Crowley sneers, shaking the shears at the wall, “I won’t hear it.”
In the corner a Snake Plant shakes almost fondly. Crowley hisses, terrible yellow eyes drawn into slits, and it stops moving, its tall leaves stretching skyward as if in surrender. Crowley clicks his tongue and goes back to fussing with the Orchids.
“Don’t know why I even bother. I should just bin the lot of you.”
He does not. Crowley has known these plants for a long time. He takes a seat on the floor amongst empty pots and potting soil, dirt on his hands and smudged along a sharp cheekbone because he allows it to be. There’s something satisfying about the mess. He wonders, vaguely and quite without meaning to, if that is how She feels about Her Creation. Crowley snarls and kicks out at the leg of a table. It wobbles, the pots atop it shuddering with the force, before going still.
An impossible Honeysuckle bush in the opposite corner blooms for him, sickly sweet in her smell. The orchids finally stand upright, maybe sensing the shift in their Master’s mood or maybe just tired of being contrary. Crowley is no longer looking at them, however. His eyes have drifted up, through the English Ivy curling sweetly along the ceiling, where gray skies hang fat and heavy in the sky. The rain starts first as a light pat and, as Crowley watches, works its way to a torrent. Between this and the overwhelming smell of sweet Earth, Crowley can almost fall asleep.
It’s tempting, and Crowley does love temptations. A hundred year nap after The-End-That-Almost-Was feels well deserved, but Aziraphale gets dreadfully worried if Crowley is gone for too long. He’s startled by a creeping vine tangling around his ankle. He shakes his leg. “Off with you, you annoying little bugger.”
The vine squeezes once before letting go and all at once Crowley misses Aziraphale so dearly it makes his stomach ache. In a wild fit of temper he reaches for an empty pot to throw and smashes it against the wall.
smash
Then another-
smash
And another-
smash smash smash
Until he is left empty and the wall of Ivy is bruised.
Crowley moves then, shaking, standing to shove the table aside with less care than it deserves, cutting his feet open upon broken terra cotta. He rests a hand, gently now, on the Ivy and pulls away green fingers like he’d made it bleed. He puts his hand to the wall again, burying his hand amongst the leaves and pushes . “Dreadfully sorry old chap.” Crowley says and feels the Ivy pulsate around his fingers. [2]
[2] Long ago Aziraphale had given Crowley a little cutting of Ivy from the side of his bookshoppe. “Perhaps you can take up gardening,” the angel said wryly. The Ivy had pulsed in Crowley’s hand then as well, like it was trying to hold him.
Crowley untangles his fingers from the Ivy and it shivers once before stilling. He moves the table back into place and waves a hand dismissively at the floor, clearing the pots. The storm outside rages on and he paces, leaving bloody footprints along the concrete. The garden suddenly feels stifling and Crowley leaves without a word, letting the door clap closed behind him.
Keep reading
Aziraphale once decided to gift Crowley a plant, because he knows that Crowley likes them, and it’s all good, except, Crowley can’t put the fear of, well, himself into this plant. It is a gift from Zira, after all.
Crowley: YOU ALL, YOU’VE DISAPPOINTED ME. GROW BETTER!!!
Crowley, turning to the plant that Aziraphale gave him: not you, sweetie, you’re doing great
Aziraphale: doesn’t remember which side was responsible for a historical period 🤔 🤔
also Aziraphale: remembers exactly what food they were eating three centuries ago on his lunch date with Crowley 😍 😇 😈🥞
a hug ❤️🩹
surprise flowers for spring!
(he's NOT a romantic though. those flowers bloomed too early and got what was coming to em)
south downs sketch
i’m a fan of the fact that crowley always waits for aziraphale to finish whatever he’s doing just to cuddle for hours
☹
I really don't know what 'I love you' means.
I think it means, 'Don't leave me here alone.'
~ Neil Gaiman
Please. I miss her so much. It's making me want to stop being good.
insp
I don't think I've ever related to a character more than I do to crowly.
And it might sound pretentious. I relate to him not cause he's cool or dress nice. And aloof and unaffected by the world around him. For the most part.
Its because like him I too try to be cool and evil.
Because like him, I am also in love with my best friend.
Because like him I too talk to God when I am at my wits end.
Because like him I too want to run away with my best friend/ love of my life.
Away from all this bullshit. And i keep dropping hints and I know she knows, at least I am hoping. But I don't feel worthy.
But I will endulge in that hubris all the same.
But unlike him. If she gave me a choice of serving as her second in command. As long as it meant staying by her side. I will abandon all I am and join her.
Not sure what that makes me.
I made myself sad again. And it's only seven in the morning.
→ Michael "acting choices" Sheen in Good Omens 2
no home and good omens charms are up on my etsy now!
https://etsy.com/puddingmiku
watched all of good omens twice in the span of like 3 days and drew 10 billion things this is what being home sick does to a young adhd mind
We are ineffably elated to confirm that Good Omens will return for a third season! This calls for a round of hot chocolate and sweet treats!
@neil-gaiman
A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
That moment when Aziraphale said he would never talk to Crowley again if he didn't do something
I felt like it was more Aziraphale being afraid he could actually never talk to him if the Devil came than him threatning Crowley. And also the fact that Crowley immediately tried to prevent Satan from coming after that "threat" is just heartwarming.
Crowley constantly saving Aziraphale's ass and Aziraphale always being afraid that Hell will do something to Crowley if they find out about their pact
It's pure love guys
So basically what we see here is Aziraphale getting a chance to ask Crowley out and Crowley sitting with the face like "it's about fucking time you do"
When Michael Sheen said that Aziraphale was in love with Crowley
I didn't think he ACTUALLY was GUUUUYS
Sorry, right number
Is how I'm gonna reply to anyone who picks up the phone when I call them and then immediately hang up
I love the fact that Aziraphale's mug has wings. Attention to details my friends
The scene with Aziraphale and Crowley drinking
Every fucking second of it is a whole fat mood
WOW! Long time no post, but that doesn't mean I haven't been up to stuff! I can finally share some of the things I've been working on as part of the @gospexchange
This short-but-sweet little comic is a gift for @deathly-shipper based on the song Céu Azul by Ana Gabriela
I had a lot of fun making this, the song is very sweet and cozy and I hope I captured the vibes you were looking for!
Here's an AO3 link if tumblr makes the quality stinky!