Frustrated, angry, horrified, and unsure of how to proceed after learning a favourite author is not who you think they were?
You are not without means to help! Fandom gave Neil Gaiman the celebrity that he then weaponised against vulnerable people. We gave it to him; we can help take it away.
THINGS WE CAN DO AS INDIVIDUALS
Repost articles and transcripts as they appear in the trades and the mainstream press, and tag them with the appropriate trigger warnings and content warnings.
Keep amplifying the voices of the survivors, and showing up with compassion and empathy and support for the untold numbers who have yet to come forward.
Keep talking about the allegations of abuse and sexual assault levelled at Neil Gaiman. Do not let it fade into the background, or be drowned out by vigorous promotion of his upcoming works. Boost the signal, particularly to raise awareness across fandoms so fans can do their best to protect themselves from potential abuse in the future.
Make donations to RAINN and The Survivors Trust, and find out what you can do on a local level to support survivors of sexual assault and abuse.
Do not tag fan works such as fanfic, fan art, quotes, gifsets, and meta discussions about Gaiman's work or live-action adaptations of Gaiman's work with #Neil Gaiman so that you are not doing the expensive PR team's work for them by helping to bury the story of Neil Gaiman's abuse of vulnerable women on social media.
Do not bully Neil Gaiman's peers in the industry, friends and family, or actors currently involved in live action adaptations of his work for not immediately making any kind of public statements.
Do not bully fellow fans. Everyone is working through their very complex feelings and relationships with both the text and the man at their own speed. Please give them the space to grieve that loss, but continue to center the stories of the survivors and express sympathy and empathy for all of the survivors who have yet to come forward.
As others have noted, The Tortoise Media Slow News podcast that initially broke the story is run by a group of well-respected journalists, and Ms Johnson is not a full-time member of the staff but was only given a shared byline on the story because one of the survivors contacted her privately which is what kicked off the year long investigation.
Filter out noise such as kink-shaming, anti-BDSM discourse, and other editorial comments and instead focus on the actual words of survivors recounting their experiences.
Remember that despite using the language of BDSM, what the survivors have recounted is in fact examples of coercive control and abuse cloaked in the language of kink. It's very important to note that BDSM nearly always includes extensive negotiation of consent to specific acts is ongoing, partners check in with one another, establish safe words, and engage in aftercare. That is absolutely not what was described by the survivors thus far.
Sexual assault is not about sex so much as it is about power. In every instance reported thus far, the common thread has been predatory behaviour toward vulnerable women. In more than one case, women who were employed in Neil Gaiman's households and were reliant on him for their housing and livelihood.
Do not guilt trip or shame people who are attempting to separate the art from the artist. allow people to love what they love about the novels, comics, and media adaptations, value the friendships that they have made because of them, and keep the joy that those projects brought them. Do not let Neil Gaiman's behaviour rob generations of fans of the stories that meant so much to them. he has already taken so much from so many; don't help him take more from yourself or others then he already has.
Do not invite him as a guest speaker to your events, a guest of honour at your conventions, or a guest lecturer at your institutions. without jeopardizing the financial future of your institution or theater, do not book speaking tours, book signings, launch parties, etc. as these events have proved to be a fertile hunting ground and provide ongoing income directly to Neil Gaiman.
I have to get something off my chest.
I've seen so many posts and art this week about how upset and lonely Crowley is, it being Valentine's and all.
But Crowley is home. He can (presumably) go back to his flat, watch endless TV, rant to his plants, get a drink, go to wintery St James's and complain to the ducks. He can drive to the sea and scream at the waves. He can eat ice cream and listen to Queen in the Bentley.
Aziraphale has no comforts.
He gave up everything he loves to give sorting their freedom one last chance.
He must be missing his soft, worn clothes.
His cluttered, busy home full of books and artworks and armchairs and its cosy lightning.
Food. And drinks.
Music. Concerts. Theatre.
And of course, his best friend.
It's highly unlikely that anything has changed in Heaven since he hasn't been there.
The Archangels probably hate him even more. Whatever Metatron has planned, most likely involves a lot of surveillance and very little actual power (something Az will need to overcome and I can't wait to see how).
The place is sterile, over lit and empty.
He must be be missing Earth so much. And be so lonely there.
Aziraphale deserves the biggest hug.
Hey Friends, can you spare a few dollars to support Arthur's top surgery? Arthur will be receiving gender-affirming surgery in May and will need some help to get through the process. Missouri does not support trans-affirming care and he'll have to pay out of pocket. I personally know his mom, who is an amazing person and advocate, who works hard as a single parent to support her kids.
If you're not able to donate, sharing would be great!
I'd love to see the god of Tumblr, our very own @neil-gaiman share for visibility <3
Hey everyone! If you're reading this, you probably know me already, but if not, I'm Arthur! … Arthur Qualman needs your support for Arthur'
I hope this finds you well.
Today is the 10th anniversary of my sister's death. She died unexpectedly when she was 20, and I was 13. My sister was so full of energy and compassion for others. She befriended probably well over a hundred people, and knew each of them by name. She taught me something that I think is demonstrated really well in Coraline (and reading it reminded me of her)--that courage is not fearlessness, but it's being afraid and standing up to that fear regardless.
Off and on since she died (though more on than off in the past 5ish years), I've struggled with depression and a feeling of pointlessness in my life. The realization that someone that vibrant can suddenly vanish off the Earth has never left me. And I don't shine nearly as bright as she did. It feels like no matter what I do, I'll never leave a significant impact. I've had a lot of difficulty with college, and I'm on my second leave of absence since starting my undergraduate studies. I don't really have any career goals and have had trouble finding a career path that would be interesting and fulfilling enough to me to feel like I could stick with it long enough to make a living. But I've been doing everything I can to keep going and keep trying to get to a more stable place emotionally. To finally find my footing.
Every night before I turn in I like to look at your posts on here. I find the words and advice you give to others very comforting. So, I'd first like to thank you for sharing your kindness and humor with everyone. And I'd also like to ask if you'd have any kind words or advice for me.
Thanks for your time.
The main thing you should probably remember is that from the inside your sister didn't realise how bright and sparkling and energetic and compassionate she was either. We know ourselves from the inside too well. see only too well our pain and clumsiness, our depressions and our failures.
She was a light for you. You'd be surprised to find that you are a light for others. You shine. (Whoever you are reading this, I promise you this: you shine, and you will leave your own impact on the world.)
I had the absolute pleasure to spend the evening with some of the loveliest people while we listened to @neil-gaiman talk. The sense of community and helpfulness was remarkable. The Venice Performing Arts Center must have been near capacity.
The sort of plan was to answer audience questions and read from various works. Pictures at the end! Here’s how it went:
- What was the best piece of writing advice you’ve ever received? Read your contracts! Everything is open for negotiation, even the date at the top of the contract.
- How do you deal with criticism? Very badly 🤣
- READING: A Calendar of Tales: October (which just so happens to be one of my favorites.)
- Have you ever finished writing something and thought “this is special?” All of it! But yes, American Gods and Ocean at the End of the Lane felt different.
- Did you have the Sandman story arc completely planned out or did you wing it? Yes and yes.
- MY QUESTION!! First off, happy birthday! Can you offer some advice on when you feel you’ve done enough research to write on a topic vs getting sidelined by doing too much research? I have a lot of natural curiosity but it can work against me at times. I loved this answer and thank Neil again and again for giving it time.
- READING: Making A Chair (Poem)
- Who is your favorite Doctor? Patrick Troughton
- How do you keep going after criticism? “Try rejecting this!” And “Stop writing shit. Just write the good stuff.”
- Who are your favorite authors? Diana Wynne Jones, Ursula Le Guin, Peter Straub, Gene Wolfe, Dickens, Austen
- Did you ever have a book soundtrack to write to? Yes, all of them had soundtracks!
- READING: Watching From the Shadows (Poem)
- Have you ever dealt with imposter syndrome? Classic Neil/Neil story!
Waiting at the front of the line
Canvas totes they handed out
My signed book haul!
Neil, being authorly
My little drawing of Hazel’s tree (you can rake the leaves)
hi there 👋 i love reading your good omens metas. i'm wondering if you have any thoughts on aziraphale's line to crowley in 1967: "i can't have you risking your life, not even for something dangerous". this always sticks out as odd to me. obviously he doesn't want crowley risking his life for any reason, so why this weird qualifier?
Hi @mybelovedismine Thank you so much. :) I am so sorry it took me awhile to get back to you. Love me some 1967 Crowley & Aziraphale and this question is great. Cheers.
1967/Holy Water Era/some S2 Aziraphale meta under the cut.
If you go back-- and I mean way back-- to the very opening bit of GO 1.01, it opens with what seems at first like it's just a quirky, funny scene introducing God and her sense of humor and the show's sense of humor. It is all of that but it also contains what I think is a really important piece of information-- especially with relation to the 1967 scene-- which is the date that Earth began in the GO universe. Crowley and Aziraphale don't know exactly when the end of the world will come but they know "about" when-- and that is a ticking clock running in the background for them for millennia.
The date that God gives us for the creation of Earth at the opening of S1 means that 6,000 years exactly would math out to October 21, 2004... but we also know that they don't know if it's going to be *exactly* 6,000 years. It could have been 5,900. It could have been 6,500 or anything in between. It winds up the super-cruel 6,004 years, beginning in 2008 in S1. What is clear to Crowley & Aziraphale is that their experience is closer to that of humans in a way because even though 6,000 years would be a very long time to humans, it's "nothing", as Angel!Crowley put it in Before the Beginning, to Crowley & Aziraphale... and there has always been a very good chance that it's all they will ever have together.
Their relationship is like someone turned over an hourglass on the wall at Eden and it's been dripping sand steadily in the background this whole time. It's partially why their relationship accelerates a little faster over the last few centuries, imo. There is a chance they're running out of time together. Armageddon means the Great War between Heaven and Hell and they are an angel and a demon. Whatever side wins the war is the one who will live on for all of eternity. The other one won't survive it-- or, even if they did, they won't be able to be with each other. Not to mention that Armageddon means that, regardless of who wins the Heaven and Hell war, Earth will be destroyed and their life on it together will be over.
Aziraphale always thinks Heaven will win. He always thinks it's him who will have to spend eternity alone. Part of this is because he has to tell himself that Heaven is still the side of good, even if it's flawed, because he can barely deal with the guilt over being part of the machine that's caused Crowley so much pain. Aziraphale also thinks, though, that maybe when the time comes, they can find a way out of it all, somehow.
In close to 6,000 years, the best plan they've got for dealing with this is Crowley's plan to just run away to Alpha Centauri and hope that no one notices that they're deserters. (So, not a great plan, but also they're up against the will of God here so kind of hard to try to work out a way around that.) In S2, Aziraphale is so desperate-- SO desperate-- for a way to not have to lose Crowley that he is willing to entertain the idea that he can trust The Metatron's word and beg Crowley to come to Heaven with him and be an angel again just so that they can be together forever. Aziraphale doesn't need Crowley to be an angel to know he's good and to love him-- he already knows and feels those things. He loves him so much that he can't bear the thought that he could lose him. He's never been able to bear that thought.
In 1967, they were running out of time and it's something that became increasingly intense for them the closer the years got to 2004 and the day they would hit 6,000 years since the Earth's creation.
In 1967, they were down to 37 years until 6,000 years were up, so the end of the world was, to them, a moment away.
It's not hard to see how Crowley wants to carpe diem and go for broke, in case it's all they'll ever have. He wants to be a little less careful. To try for the things they haven't been able to give each other while they've had to be a secret for so long. 'Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all', right? And they have loved, do love, are loving in 1967... but Crowley feels the time slipping away and his anxiety is dialed up to eleven under that cool exterior and Aziraphale knows him like he knows the back of his hand and he can see where this is all going... and it's not where either of them want it to go.
Think of this from Aziraphale's point of view...
Aziraphale is an angel. His soul is saved. He is meant to survive Armageddon. That, to him, is actually something of a curse at this point because it means that he'll live for eternity. For *all* of time. An absolutely incomprehensible amount of time. Neverending time. The kind of amount of time that would make 6,000 years feel like less time than it took you to blink while reading this sentence. And if everything goes according to what they know of God's Ineffable Plan or Great Plan or Whatever The Fuck It Is lol, he's going to live through all of this time alone.
Without Crowley.
Forget even the end of Earth and humanity (and that's hard to forget lol), Aziraphale is slated for a post-apocalyptic return to Heaven and a celestial cubicle and spending all of time with Michael and Uriel and Sandalphon and no food and no books and no music and even all of that, he could stand, if only he could just have Crowley with him and he can't.
Because Crowley's a demon. He's fallen. He's eternally damned. Heaven has socialized angels to believe that the war between Heaven and Hell that Armageddon triggers will be the big triumph of Heaven over Hell. Aziraphale tells himself he believes it but he's honestly more *terrified* of it than devoted to the idea. Heaven triumphing over Hell could kill Crowley. It's what Aziraphale is *supposed* to want as an angel but it's actually *the exact opposite* of what he wants. He adores Crowley. He will never-- in all of the infinite time to come-- ever get over Crowley and he knows it.
Even if Crowley somehow survives The Great War 2.0, Earth will still be gone and Crowley's fate is eternity in dark, cramped, literally painful damnation in Hell. There is no way for them to be together without thwarting the will of God and Aziraphale is an angel-- his entire purpose as a being is to serve God. It's what he was made *by God* to do, as far as he's been taught, and he mostly believes it... it's just that he also thinks he was made for Crowley.
This isn't just what Crowley thinks. Crowley isn't wrong that this is a mutual feeling:
Aziraphale felt that then, too, and he's never stopped feeling it. It blends sometimes with his faith in God-- something that, ironically, he sometimes thinks Crowley somehow has more of than he does. If God made him and God made Crowley and if God made them for each other, then it can't really be just to take them away from each other after such a short time, can it? Maybe they're meant for some other purpose in all of it?
But this is the same God that Aziraphale knows can be cruel...
Aziraphale has gone up against the will of God countless times over the years now and he is, for reasons he doesn't understand, somehow still an angel.
It seems unjust and honestly pretty profane to him that *he* is the holy one when Crowley's been through--quite literally-- Hell, for thousands of years, and his biggest sin is being curious. It is very hard to be told that you were created for the purpose of representing the side of good in a war against good and evil but to then, over and over and over, find yourself believing that the good guys are maybe not so good... all the while falling deeper in love by the day with a being your side calls 'demonic' and 'evil' but whom you know to be a sweet, romantic, smart, gentle, funny, kind cinnamon roll. Crowley is a demon and he's the best angel Aziraphale knows.
Now imagine you've all those conflicts and you're running out of time and staring down the end game of all of this and when you've got maybe, if you're lucky, a century and a half left or so worth of sand is still in the top half of the hourglass (mid-1800s), Crowley starts to pull away from you.
He's honestly never done it to this extent before. He trusts you with a surprising amount of himself and has since early days and, in recent centuries, you were happy together-- as happy as your situation would allow and that was more than you ever thought you'd have. This is the same being whose willingness to push through his fear of being vulnerable to have something honest and intimate with you has had you in awe of his bravery since you met. He taught you how to do that and now he's putting up walls you can't scale and slamming shut every open door.
You were happy together and then, you went on a date in Edinburgh in 1827 and suddenly, the centuries of peace and of getting away with it all ended in a literal second when Crowley got dragged to Hell two feet away from you. Hell didn't find out about the two of you or about Elspeth-- they were pissed about the human grave guards that Crowley accidentally sent to Hell for shooting Wee Morag-- but Crowley comes back a couple of weeks later and it's like it's all over already.
He's badly shaken. They hurt him. He spent time in Hell not sure if they had found out about you or if you were still alive. The anxiety, depression, and PTSD he has from being cast out of Heaven and a lifetime of trying to survive being a demon of Hell goes into overdrive and you don't know what to do. You've always been good at helping him. Nothing works. The bookshop-- your home but his, too, in your mind, the safest space he can go to to get away from Hell and get some rest-- isn't enough. He's not coming around the way he used to. He doesn't want to talk about any of it. The connection between the two of you-- emotionally, sexually-- feels like it's eroding. It hurts more than you want to admit. Your relationship de-evolves for almost 35 years as you watch the spark seem to go out of him. You don't know how to fix it and you try everything you can think of. You can understand how the ticking clock makes it all hurt more and you don't want him to be in any pain-- ever-- and you'd go away entirely if it was what he really wanted but neither of you know how to say goodbye because you both know that neither of you actually want to.
He's your best friend. He's the only one like you in the universe. You're both miserable and lonely without each other and it seems stupid to spend the last years you might ever get together apart but it also seems impossible to ever get back to where you were. Then, one day, after *years* of this, he asks you for the one thing that can *kill him*...
In the moment, all you can think about is that he wants to die because he's seemed like he does for decades now. All you can think of is that he is in so much pain and he wants nothing from you but the means by which to end it.
He's your lover. Imagine being told by the being with whom you've spent countless pleasurable hours in bed that all he wants from you now is a suicide pill.
He used to laugh. He used to be silly and hilariously dry-humored. He used to flirt with you and gaze at you from the couch on the bookshop, all pretty yellow eyes and lounging limbs, and now he's spine-straight stiff, like the pain is what's holding up. He arranges meetings in the park instead of coming over. He wears his glasses, all the time. You can't remember when the last time you saw his eyes was.
All of it says to you that you aren't enough and then he asks you to give him a suicide pill and you're broken-hearted-- you're just broken, period at the thought of him in so much pain-- and you're angry. You're furious. How dare he do this to you? You've been in love for millennia. He is your best friend. How dare he shut you out and leave you alone when you are going to be alone without him for the rest of bloody time?!
You're so in your feelings about him shutting you out that you know you have been failing at caring for him and not really helping the situation for awhile now. Your defenses have been up for awhile. Years, probably. You're caustic and, frankly, pretty bitchy in your bitterness. It's a little twisted but you've tried everything else and maybe if you could even just make him angry, it'd at least be something. He's barely spoken above a whisper in thirty years and sometimes you think about him off his head on laudanum in Edinburgh, drawing you to him magically by your bow tie to look at you over his glasses, inches away, and how you didn't know that was going to be the last time he ever really flirted with you.
So, when he asks you for holy water in 1862, you do your best to piss him off, since he won't accept anything else from you lately. You used to be wildly compatible and now you're broken and you're angry because God was always going to break your heart by taking him from you but he was never supposed to. He was supposed to love you-- those things neither of you say-- to the end.
You did get him angry. You both got angry. So angry that it felt over.
It wasn't. You saw each other again in the interim and it didn't just magically heal itself, like you wished it would, because you regretted how you reacted to the request for holy water but somehow talking about it felt too much.
Because you thought you might have understood it more afterwards.
Because you began to understand that he felt vulnerable. That he needed to feel like he could defend himself and, if it came to it, you. That maybe he didn't want to die-- maybe he wanted to live. That this was him asking you to help him figure out how to feel safe again-- something you've actually always been good at-- and you were so afraid, too, that you handled it badly.
Maybe one of the things you were afraid of in the moment was the way he talked about it going wrong, going pear-shaped, about him wanting insurance... about how there wasn't a way to reframe that in your mind to not mean that he meant he was willing to kill a demon in your defense or his-- which could kill him. It could send a legion after him and destroy him. There was so much that could go wrong. No matter what Crowley wanted holy water for, his death felt like it was the end game. You would throw yourself into Hellfire before you did anything that could cause him harm.
He had been pulling away for years but there he was saying I would kill for you. I would die for you. and that was the closest either of you had ever come to saying I'm in love with you. and you weren't sure what was more dangerous: saying those truths you both knew and felt or holy water.
Crowley didn't bring it up again and neither did you. You're useless without one another so you saw each other again within the next couple of decades. The Old West in America. Back in London in the 1920s and times in between. Neither of you ever discussed the Holy Water fight or what it meant. You secretly learned to drive, for the future, just in case, when he turned up stupidly in love with a car in 1928. You would die for that dumb car if only because of how Crowley smiled when he turned up to take you for a ride.
Over time, Crowley seemed to get a bit better and your heart burst just looking at him, even if it also ached with the knowledge that you had made it harder and hadn't known that time how to help when he needed it.
Then, 1941. The Blitz. Bombs raining down over London and the world on the brink of nuclear annihilation and maybe, just like the humans, you both thought this might be it. Time slowed to surviving each night and every moment felt like it could be the last and maybe that's why you both wanted a different ending.
Crowley always did prefer the funny ones.
In the middle of it, Crowley joked about holy water-- the first time either of you had mentioned it in 80 years-- and you heard it there, woven into his quiet, coded but undisputable, confessions of love. It was for you, it was about you, it was to keep you safe... it was because you were two feet away from me when they took me and I want to be with you to the end and it's the only thing that can help me keep you safe from them.
He doesn't ask you for it again. You know why. Things are good. He doesn't want to fight. He doesn't want you to reject him again. He doesn't want to admit again that he feels unsafe. You think about giving him some after 1941 more than once but you are now afraid of what it might say to him if you do.
Because you could both be almost out of time, if everything goes pear-shaped when the clock runs out on about 6,000 years, and Crowley wants to try for more.
You both want forever. You both aren't sure that you'll even get tomorrow. The world is speeding up in 1967-- has been for decades now-- and you think Crowley is caught up in it. You both live in London, in SoHo, you'd be as safe as you could be. You'd blend in enough. It's too dangerous, though. It's not the humans you're afraid of, really-- not that the human world has ever been safe for your and Crowley's kind of love and you aren't sure that it will get there before it's all over. What you're afraid of is that you'll get caught by Heaven and Hell and you'll lose him before the about 6,000 years is up-- and then you will have no chance at all, whatsoever, of forever.
Crowley doesn't think he'll make it. He doesn't say so but his actions say so and his situation suggests it. He wants to go faster. He doesn't demand it, doesn't pressure you, but he periodically gently asks and you have to let him down somehow, you have to get him to slow down. It's not that you don't want him. If there were no risk to him, you'd never try to put up a speed bump. It's just that you are hopeful.
Ironically, you're hopefulness-- your optimism-- it comes from him.
He's brilliant. He's clever. Maybe, somehow, the two of you will find a way out of this.
You don't want to watch the world burn. You don't want to watch billions of humans and a whole planet and a whole solar system-- Crowley's nebulae-- destroyed for no reason and as much as you should be willing to go along with the Almighty's will, it's fucking ineffable and you secretly aren't sure if you believe in a God that would do this. You struggled during The Flood. You struggled over Job and Sitis' kids...
...if you are honest with yourself (and you are more than you care to admit), you struggle to be faithful to a God who has caused Crowley so much pain.
You think that, somehow, when the time comes, you and Crowley might find a way around it. How? You have no idea. None. But you think there is a chance that you could figure it out and so long as there is a chance-- even one, single, tiny, chance-- that somehow you and Crowley could survive it all and be together forever, you are not going to let him do something stupid and get himself killed trying to be together now.
You are not letting your far-sighted lover trip over his snake legs and go head-first into a faunt of stolen holy water that you could have given him safely 105 years ago, when he asked for it, and you fucked it all up...
You make him some. You use your powers and your essence and your body and turn water into a weapon for him. The real thing. The holiest.
You understand what it is to him now. It's not death; it's life. He doesn't want either of you to be in pain. He doesn't want to be left alone. He wants to feel safer. To be able to protect you from what Hell put him through and worse. He doesn't want to leave you. He wants a chance in Hell at surviving what's to come and an out for if it all goes pear-shaped and you want him to live and not to suffer and only you can give that to him.
You understand that now. It was never that you didn't trust him. It was that you didn't trust yourself.
You put it in a tartan thermos that silently says your anxious, emotional ass best thing of me before you ever decide to use this.
It also says this is for you to keep and it is of me and I know that's a risk if you ever get caught with it. I trust you to keep it hidden, like you do us, and protect me. This is for you and it looks like me and you know when the tartan started and why... you know it was because of our night in Edinburgh in 1827... you know it was the night they took you and I didn't know if I'd ever see you again and you know I've been wearing this pattern of us for 140 years and that I always will.
It's just that you also can't let him think that giving it to him is an assent of sorts. If Heaven or Hell ever found out you did this, they'd destroy you both.
So you rushed over with holy water, your tie undone, catching him before he can go any further with his scheme to pay humans to steal him some and you waited for him in the safety of The Bentley, one of the only places the two of you can actually talk with some expectation of privacy, and when he asks, you have to talk him out of it. You have to break his heart a bit. You have to disappoint him. You have to try to protect him from himself a bit or you'll lose him.
You tell him that you're giving him the holy water because you can't let him risk his life "not even for something dangerous." Dangerous is trying for more between you than there already is. You aren't rejecting him outright and he knows that. You never have, really. You see each other in secret. You have been for more years than either of you can count. You rely on each other to help each other to the right speed.
You need him to tempt you into giving yourself permission to do what you want and need but aren't sure you can or should. He needs you to help him keep from spiralling from anxiety.
He gets you to go a little faster-- not too much, at a pace you feel comfortable with. You get him to slow down-- gently, tenderly. You are both able to trust each other with your vulnerabilities and that's why it works.
He's blinded by the world changing in ways both exhilarating and also terrifying, by it breaking apart at the seams increasing his fear of running out of time.
You've been together for thousands of years.
You don't stay the night; you've never had breakfast together. You've never risked taking each other's hands in public. You've never directly said I love you.
If you can get him to see how dangerous it all still is-- because it is-- then maybe you can keep him alive long enough to have a shot of neither of you ever having to worry about losing each other again.
Somehow, it's not much different now than it was before the beginning. He's always been like this. Optimistic, progressive, free-thinking. Innovative. It might get you both out of all of it yet but it won't in 1967. He is caught up in the emerging new, human world and it's a heady cocktail when mixed with his existential terror. He's going to get himself fucking killed. You know better, just as you knew better before The Beginning. You know that too many questions, too much risk, will draw a metaphorical sniper's bead to his head. And you know that, on some level, he knows he needs you to rein him.
It's an era of freer sex and free love and wild, progressive music and art but... it's also an era of war and violence and assassinations... and Heaven and Hell are so far removed from Earth that it would take another 6,000 years to get them anywhere near close to this.
Crowley knows this, intellectually. You know he knows. He just feels the sand trickling faster and faster and there's hardly any of it left now.
You know how that feels-- you feel it, too. Every time you look at him. Everytime he slips away out the backdoor of the bookshop with a soft kiss and an even softer g'night, angel and you wonder if that was the last time.
Tick, tick, tick, tick...
Crowley sees All You Need is Love but you can see December 8, 1980 coming at some point down the road. You've both been on this planet long enough to know what they do to the first ones who break away, to the ones who go against the grain, and the humans are no different from Heaven and Hell in that way. You cannot tell him yes or you will be killing you both.
You put it on yourself a bit. He goes too fast for you, you tell him. It's not untrue. He does. It's just that if it all were different, you'd never refuse him anything. You hope he hears it as your issue, not his, though you doubt he will. It is so hard to look at him and tell him no when all he is saying he wants is the chance to love you more.
God, there are days when you think he might kill you if he were to love you any more than he does. You don't know what you ever did to deserve his love. You don't know how you survived before you met him or how you are supposed to if you lose him.
"You go too fast for me" is what you say and you know he understands that it means:
You'll burn us fast and bright and it will be amazing but it will *end*. They will catch us. They will kill us. I can't lose you. If I thought all we could ever have would be just a short, few years, then I wouldn't deny you but I think we could find a way to have forever. Somehow. I have hope for that. I get that hope *from you.* I need you to slow down because I can't watch you get yourself killed. I'm not strong enough to lose you. I need you to let me pace this for awhile...
You want him to know you understand, that you feel it all, too. So, you tell him of the things you'd like to do, if it was safer, not knowing if it ever will be. The things you choose are of all of these holy water years. A picnic-- one implied to be in the daylight, in this future you're both imagining, this world you hope to one day see emerge. He had tried to take you on a graveyard one at midnight in 1827. You know that had been what that would have been had you not ran into Elspeth. The two of you sneaking around in the dark, as always, but together. Alive. Maybe, you tell him now, you could one day have that picnic together under the sun. You think you can see that world. You have no idea how it arrives but he's not wrong. You can see some things changing here and there's always hope that things could change with Heaven and Hell. He has taught you to keep the faith in how he's survived the worst and remains optimistic.
Maybe, one day, you could be angels dining at The Ritz. It is intentional that you reference World War II. It is a way-- the only way you can right now-- to tell him you love him, as you both did in your own ways during The Blitz. It is saying:
I love you. I would love that life with you. I won't give up on the idea of it-- of having more than a short burst of it. That is why I need you to slow down and stay safe. It's too dangerous for more right now. Take the holy water and take a breath. You're okay. You have me. We keep *each other* safe, remember? Slow down. I need you with me forever.
“All of it says to you that you aren't enough and then he asks you to give him a suicide pill and you're broken-hearted-- you're just broken, period at the thought of him in so much pain-- and you're angry. You're furious. How dare he do this to you? You've been in love for millennia. He is your best friend. How dare he shut you out and leave you alone when you are going to be alone without him for the rest of bloody time?!”
Woof. Ton of bricks just fell on my heart. This is part of what it feels like. The grief of losing your best friend to suicide. 663 days. Perhaps I’ll never move on from feeling complete and utter inadequacy. Powerlessness. Not enough. Not so much anger, but the deep, soul aching pain at the powerlessness of it all.
tbh shoutout to the over 40s on tumblr, sorry the internet acts like yall belong in the retirement home when ur literally just regular adults with hobbies
I was going to leave comments in the tags, but I decided this was important enough to put on main.
In college, my friend group collectively got into the SCA - Society for Creative Anachronism. They're the people who get really into medieval reenactment, the fighting and crafts and cooking, they have kings and queens and knights and events and a good percentage of them (but not all!) work or have worked at Ren Faires.
I am forever grateful my friends dragged me into that, because it was my first introduction to fandom in older adults. Middle-aged dorks. Elderly nerds. Absolutely as intense and weird and hilarious and fun as any fan in their teens or 20s. I started getting into fandom already knowing there was a road ahead for me as I got older, full of handmade costumes and late night movies and shelves of pewter dragon goblets and mixed-aged road trips to meet ups and conventions.
And it kills me that so many people don't know that sort of community even exists. On both sides, even! I went to Philcon a few years ago, which tends towards older fans, and an older woman I was talking to sadly told me that she thought fandom was dying out, because she never saw younger fans any more.
Over the past decade, there's been a really toxic movement towards keeping different ages strictly separated, both in and outside of fandom. There's this strong implication that if an older person wants to interact with a younger person, there is something inherently predatory about that.
Yeah, that attitude sucks. That drive towards separation and puritanism sucks. Declaring that younger people should have nothing to look forward to and that older people should stay separated and lonely sucks. It sucks and we are all worse for it.
Don't fear age. Don't put an age limit on having fun. Give yourself a damn future.
Beverly passed away in 2019, but she was one of many of my favorite, elder cosplayers that frequent DragonCon and remind all of us to keep playing as long as we can.
As @neil-gaiman once wrote, “I'm going to tell you something important. Grown-ups don't look like grown-ups on the inside either… Inside, they look just like they always have. Like they did when they were your age. The truth is, there aren't any grown-ups. Not one, in the whole wide world.”
Just a silly question about the writing process. You said that you’re a part of all your characters, and that got me thinking.
When you’re writing/editing/rereading do you ever act out what the characters are doing? Like pull a funny face when a character does the same? Or do you ever talk out a conversation in two different voices?
Just curious!
I don't normally talk out loud if it's just me.
But I'm doing all the characters' facial expressions whether I'm aware of it or not, which is one reason I try not to write in public.
Crowley, a demon, standing in the Garden of Eden next to Aziraphale, an angel, who he will spend the next 6000 years pining for: it’s just funny to me that God would put the one thing you’re not allowed to have right in front of you, like what’s that about
And lastly, some words on why I think shows like good omens are important.
I really like the movie ratatouille. It’s a little funky movie about a funky little rat, and I loved that as a kid. As I grew older, what I was able to appreciate is all of the commentary that a movie like ratatouille has on creativity and of the idea that is a collective we are taking on a responsibility in a creative world to protect new ideas. Now, good omens is not a new idea necessarily — the book itself has been around for quite a while. However, queer representation, queer media, religious trauma, and the complexities of human life (the ability to be curious, the ability to find love and protection in the world around us, and the ability to be accepted no matter how ruined we feel) all being wrapped up into a funky little bow is a relatively new idea. I think this show is one of many of these small new ideas that represent a turning point in media, more particularly in the stories we tell. I think the hype around shows that it’s worthy to discuss matters like these in an accessible way, in a universal way, and in a way that gives these people a voice.
And, yeah, it’s a fragile idea. It’s something that’s just starting out, which is why I feel like I need to tell people to go out and watch the show if you haven’t. You’ll notice that, yeah it’s about funky little demons and funky little angels, and it’s cute and gay and we love to see it, but once you let it sit with you you’ll find this real weight to what Pratchett and Gaiman are trying to say. Theres something so magical about experiencing a piece of media and not only finding it fun and entertaining, but being able to see the weight and the importance and the passion that’s carried through with the artist’s vision. I find with all the checkboxes that have to be filled with bigger corporations, it’s easier to find myself loving smaller indie films and shows, and it’s rarer to find something as big budget as this being done so creatively and freely. Plus, even if it was easy to please the big cheese, it’s a damn hard thing to become an artist. The world is often against you and the work you make. There’s an importance to a story like this being told, and I’ll do my best to play a part in our collective responsibility to protect stories like these as they emerge. It’s essential that stories of acceptance and love, a love for humanity and a love for shades of grey, and the gift and drive to create change no matter the cost exist in our world. The world is better for it.
The best storytellers give other people the space to become storytellers themselves. The best storytellers give people the space to breathe so they can paint their own picture and draw their own conclusions. And, this story and this show have really inspired me to get back into writing, and to indulge in stories once again. So, in that sense it’s been a bit of a pillar for me recently. And, I’d like to thank @neil-gaiman for that vision and for being part of that. His work is something that’s inspired me over and over, and just when I find I’ve lost my sense or spark he’s found his way back to me. If you haven’t seen the show, it’s a part of the legacy. You should watch it. Absolutely ineffable.
There's this moment in Good Omens that makes me cackle every time I see it and leaves me full of warmth, so here's an essay on its context and meaning, because explication and analysis are how I show love. I will try to keep my thoughts as tight as possible, but they do have a tendency to spiral outwards, and I am very stoned. Come, sistren, and get nerdy with me.
My favorite moment in the series so far occurs in 1601. To approach it we will first need an assload of context. There's a TL;DR in bold at the end of the Context if you don't fancy reading the whole assload. Key arguments are in italics and bold throughout.
David Tennant gives Crowley a very consistent facial expression every time Aziraphale says something so outlandish Crowley can't quite believe he's hearing it. It's this one:
Chronologically, we see the Eyebrows of Disbelief twice before my fave moment in 1601: once (above left) in that scene on the Garden Wall that familiarizes the audience with Crowley's face before adding the dark glasses, when Aziraphale admits he's given away his sword; once when Aziraphale tells Bildad the Shuhite that he, Aziraphale, has Fallen because he lied to the angels to save Job's children.
The Eyebows of Disbelief always signal surprise and amusement with something Aziraphale has said or done. This amusement is sometimes at Aziraphale's expense and sometimes not.
In the gifs above, Crowley is laughing because what Aziraphale has just admitted to doing is fantastic and unexpected and frankly pretty gd punk rock. He's not laughing at Aziraphale, he's laughing because he is delighted with him. The only record we have thus far of Crowley laughing at Aziraphale is this one:
Crowley laughs when Aziraphale informs him--him, a demon who has personally been through the process of Falling--that Aziraphale is Fallen and must be a demon now. As though of the two of them Aziraphale is the expert on how and under what circumstances this occurs.
And yet when Crowley sees Aziraphale's distress--not his fear of being taken to Hell, but his heartbreak and lostness over the fact that his conscience has diverged from God's stated will--Crowley stops laughing, and instead he acts very kindly towards Aziraphale. He validates the gravity of what Aziraphale has done and assures him he won't turn him in. He sits with him so Aziraphale isn't totally alone (like Crowley probably was) as he goes through the loneliest moments of his existence to that point and picks himself up newly weighted with the secret he must now bear.
And after this scene (in canon as it stands thus far), we don't see Crowley laugh at anything Aziraphale says or does again.
And he really has to work for it sometimes. We talk a lot about the things Michael Sheen is able to convey with his face in Good Omens, and absolutely rightly so, and David Tennant earns a chunk of his paycheck in this regard as well. If you haven't given yourself the treat yet, rewatch the scene in Will Goldstone's magic shop in 1941 and focus on Crowley's reactions:
Tennant takes great care to show, with precision, that Crowley is expending effort not to react to Aziraphale's nervous chaos Muppetry and lack of self-awareness. Crowley is self- and socially and contextually aware enough that he knows (better than Aziraphale, at least, which is not a high bar to clear) what's cringe, what's funny, what's ridiculous, how to behave. But whenever Aziraphale crosses a boundary of normalcy, or even sanity, and there is opportunity to laugh at him, Crowley very carefully doesn't react. He doesn't interrupt him, he doesn't try to correct him, he doesn't make fun of him, he doesn't even smirk; he just watches him, as stone-faced as he can manage, no matter how bizarre Aziraphale becomes.
We should be reading this lack of reaction to Aziraphale's social and rational transgressions as powerful positive action. Go watch the Doctor Who episode "Human Nature," or literally any episode of The In-Betweeners, or read or watch Regeneration, and reflect on what it shows you about English masculinity, and then consider again the depth of significance in how English- and male-coded character Crowley treats English- and male-coded character Aziraphale in an England created by an English and male-codedpresenting author based off a book written by himself and and male-presenting author. Within its context of English masculinity, Crowley's lack of reaction is not a neutral stance; it is a very fucking loud show of support.
This is not even an inference; it's stated outright in the show. Crowley himself puts it into words 422 years after my favorite moment:
You know how Crowley calls Aziraphale "angel" because the factuality of the descriptor offers him plausible deniability to any Heavenly or Infernal agents who might be listening? Remember how Crowley is a great equivocator? Crowley is equivocating here, too: he's using the cover of what Maggie and Nina will take as a disparaging joke at Aziraphale's expense in order to make a perfectly sincere statement. This is his genuine perception of one of the relationship dynamics he has with Aziraphale and how he feels about that dynamic. Crowley thinks he himself is quite witty (an accurate assessment), Crowley thinks Aziraphale isn't sufficiently self- or socially or contextually aware to hide how strange he is and that he therefore frequently says and does mad things (also an accurate assessment), and Crowley is Into. That. Shit.
Okay. Now let's look at 1601.
Chronologically it's been almost 1,000 years since we last saw Aziraphale and Crowley. In 537, Aziraphale isn't willing even to consider a labor-saving working arrangement with Crowley of fucking off home out of the damp of Arthurian Wessex; but by 1601, he's worked (and met, and Arranged) with Crowley "dozens of times now," Crowley says, and Azirapahle does not correct him.
In that millienium, Aziraphale has grown to care deeply about Crowley:
In fact he may be somewhat smitten with him:
Seriously, go back and watch Aziraphale here as Crowley approaches and starts speaking to him: he doesn't start smiling until he recognizes that the person speaking to him is Crowley (but he only smiles at Crowley while Crowley's not looking at him).
And Crowley is definitely become smitten with Aziraphale:
Our man(-shaped entity) is so allergic to work he sets up a meeting to weasel, cajole, or (as it happens) cheat a coin toss to get Aziraphale to do an easy temptation for him in Edinburgh, and then in the same conversation agrees to miracle a play into success because Aziraphale gives him a single hopeful look. Crowley's got it bad.
TL;DR: The Eyebrows of Disbelief happen when Crowley is surprised and amused by something Aziraphale has said or done. Sometimes that amusement is delight with Aziraphale; sometimes it is at Aziraphale's expense. Crowley is aware of this distinction, and when his amusement is at Aziraphale's expense, he suppresses it, even when it takes some effort on his own part, and remains stocially composed. This is equivocation on his part: to Celestial/Infernal operatives lacking knowledge of the intricacies of human behavior, this non-reaction would seem like neutrality; to Aziraphale, who shares with Crowley and the audience the contextual knowledge of English masculinity's utter viciousness, this non-reaction is a profound show of support; and in the safety of support from Crowley, Aziraphale lets his weirdness bloom.
As another meta points out [link if I find it again], we also see in Aziraphale's wordless request about Hamlet and Crowley's immediate understanding of it that by 1601 Aziraphale and Crowley have developed an unspoken, coded method of communication with each other.
Now that we have all of that in mind, here's my favorite moment in Good Omens:
Ixi of Fuck Yeah Good Omens has even kindly archived a closeup of the aftermath, for Crowley, of "Buck up!" In gif 4, above, you can see that the tiny smile is an involuntary reaction that happens as Crowley's eyes widen: for a fraction of a second, he's caught off-guard; in the closeup it's easier to see that he suppresses the smile and gives a tiny shake of his head, Eyebrows of Disbelief heading for his hairline.
There are a number of things Crowley's reaction could mean and what messages it could communicate (we'll get to that in a sec), but regardless, his reaction is, unquestionably, one of surprise and suppressed amusement. This is an aspect of Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship and characters that I like very much, viz., that one of the reasons Crowley likes Aziraphale (though Aziraphale is judgy and occasionally, unintentionally, horrifyingly cruel) is that in addition to being one of the kindest and most courageous beings in existence, Aziraphale is mad as a bag of frogs. Crowley does not know what is going to come out of Aziraphale's lovely mouth next, but Crowley does know there's a good chance he will struggle to believe he's hearing it, and Crowley likes that.
That's what makes this my favorite moment. What makes this moment so cool and rad, though, is its ineffability. We know from the Eyebrows of Disbelief that Crowley is surprised and amused, but any of several things could be read in that almost imperceptible headshake. Like:
What are you doing? or
Why are you like this? or
How can you be aware that you say these things out loud and yet still say them out loud? or
How has my existence come to this, this moment of listening to such insanity?
each of which is a fair and just feeling to have/message to communicate to a man(-shaped entity) who is yelling "Buck up!" at Hamlet.
But that's only if we read Crowley's amusement as being at Aziraphale's expense. And I don't think we should. Because watch Aziraphale here:
He's doing it on purpose. He is shouting a hilariously inappropriate, 100% authentic Aziraphale-brand thing over arguably the gloomiest passage of Shakespeare's famously gloomy play just after Crowley complains about its gloominess, and he is watching Crowley as he does it. Look at his smile! He knows he's being Deeply Uncool, and he is doing it literally right into Crowley's face.
Remember how we just talked about how by this point in the chronology Crowley and Aziraphale have learned to communicate with each other nonverbally through coded glances and facial expression? So what does it mean when Aziraphale responds to Crowley's grumbling about Hamlet's gloominess by smiling his minxious Mona Lisa Aziraphale smile, looking right into Crowley's face, and yelling at Hamlet to buck up? Aziraphale, in a carefully coded, carefully Aziraphale way, is joking with Crowley. His silliness in this moment is for Crowley.
And with aaaaaaallllll of this essay in mind, I have to reconsider what it means that Crowley's reaction to "Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" is widening eyes, an involuntary twitch of his mouth toward a smile, and then, his eyebrows still showing his surprise and amusement, a tiny shake of his head.
So, once more, with inferences:
I do propose, y'all, on the basis of this web of evidence I submit for consideration, that what we are seeing here in my favorite moment of Good Omens is the ineffable equivalent of Aziraphale and Crowley sharing a laugh. I don't think Crowley's amusement here is at Aziraphale, but rather with Aziraphale. Aziraphale, in good spirits and happy to see Crowley, uses his Aziraphaleness to offer Crowley the opportunity to be in agreement with him about what in this situation is funny. His humor lands just as he wants it to: Crowley, just for a moment, is caught off-guard, and tickled--
But remember, Crowley is worried in this scene about being surveilled ("I thought you said we'd be inconspicuous here"), and he worries about audio surveillance a lot ("Walls have ears"; "Don't say that. If my lot hear [etc.]," etc.), so he's very limited in what reactions he can show or voice. Aziraphale knows Crowley must be perceived by anyone watching or listening to disapprove of his, Aziraphale's, behavior (just as he must be perceived to disapprove vociferously of Crowley's). Both of them know this.
--so Crowley suppresses the smile almost successfully, and shakes his head at Aziraphale, minutely, to say Stop. What you're doing is working, you're close to making me laugh, and if I show how much you have just delighted me, it will blow our cover of "just an Arrangement."
In advancing my argument that what we see in my favorite Good Omens moment is Aziraphale successfully attempting to joke with Crowley and Crowley recognizing that overture from Aziraphale and being momentarily surprised into a reaction of genuine delight before pulling his face back under control and indicating to Aziraphale that he must stop, I offer these three final data points.
Datum 1. Nothing going on with Crowley's face in this moment is accidental. We know for sure we're not seeing David Tennant react to Michael Sheen here not only because of literally every other point of Tennant's and Sheen's performances in the show, but because Tennant is wearing opaque contacts and sunglasses under film lighting and therefore cannot be reacting to anything more compelling than a level-10-bleached blur, because he cannot see shit. Crowley's reaction is a deliberate and careful performance choice on Tennant's part underscored by director Douglas Mackinnon's choice to film Tennant in 1/2 profile to keep his eyes visible and face readable to the audience.
Datum 2. The husbands in 1601 is not the only moment in Good Omens when we may be seeing an angel and a demon communicate the message Stop doing that, it makes us look too familiar between themselves with a little headshake:
Datum 3: There is another moment in Good Omens when Aziraphale offers Crowley the opportunity to enjoy a joke with him and when his humor lands just as he intends, and we can use this other moment as a comparison to the 1601 moment. I don't have gifs for it, but go back and watch it, S1E6 49:27-42.
Aziraphale says something that surprises and amuses Crowley (he asked Hell for a rubber duck while he was sloshing around in the holy water)--
--but what Aziraphale says makes Crowley smile long before it makes him laugh.
In fact, his laugh, though a genuine cackle, is quite delayed, and he laughs only after Aziraphale starts laughing too.
In other words, Crowley's reaction to Aziraphale offering to joke with him, offering him amusement they're both on the same side of, is exactly the same as his reaction to "Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" right up until he laughs instead of shaking his head. Here, after Armageddidn't, he doesn't have to suppress his reaction, so he can let the smile bloom; he doesn't have to control his response, so, although it takes him a few extra seconds, he lets the smile turn into a laugh.
But in 1601, it's not safe to laugh at Aziraphale's humor. It's not safe even to smile at him. A single piece of evidence or eye/earwitness testimony that he and Crowley have anything more friendly than the most passing and acrimonious of professional relationships could mean death to either or both of them, and depending on what Falling is like, possibly something worse than death for Aziraphale.
But Aziraphale is so funny, so effervescent for Crowley, at Crowley, that it catches Crowley just for a moment. Crowley's eyes widen and the corner of his mouth twitches toward a smile.
And that's dangerous. If Aziraphale keeps being so charmingly mad, Crowley is going to laugh, and they can't afford that risk, so he shakes his head at Aziraphale. Stop, or I won't be able to keep a straight face around you.
And Aziraphale apparently receives that message, because he immediately eases off. Less than 60 seconds later we learn that he's deeply concerned for Crowley's safety--and that it's not so much that Aziraphale has Crowley wrapped around his little finger as it is that Crowley has wrapped himself around Aziraphale's little finger like a snake arranging itself on the tree branch it calls home.
First of all, this theory is not mine, its from @/doubleskk on Twitter and can be found HERE. Go show them some love! It's in Portuguese, so I'll do my best to translate it - blue texts are my personal additions!
This season, we have something very clear in Aziraphale's development arc: is his relationship with LIE. He lied to protect Job's children, and he lied he had performed a miracle to make Nina and Maggie fall in love. That's not counting other little lies, sprinkled throughout the season here and there.
We keep seeing Crowley say "I'm a demon, I lie", but in the big finale, we have Crowley saying the truth - the big truth, the one he has been avoiding for 6 thousand years.
All of this was to set the stage for the biggest lie of all: the lie he had to tell Crowley to fend him off and protect him.
When Metatron goes to buy the coffee, he asks Nina if people ask for death, as the name of her shop is "Give me a coffee, or give me death". What if that name is an allegory for the actual conversation between Metatron and Aziraphale?
Aziraphale may have been threatened. Either Azira goes back to heaven (coffee), or he and Crowley would have their existence erased from the Book of Life (death). So, to protect Crowley, Aziraphale had to invent a lie to make sure he got away. The Book of Life was namedropped a couple of times in the show, a Chekhov's gun that never went off - Neil is too good of a writer for that.
And Aziraphale knew that Crowley would be pissed if he agreed to go back to Heaven after everything that happened, and he knew that Crowley would never accept being an angel again. "But rescuing me makes him so happy" - Aziraphale had to make sure Crowley wouldn't realize he needed saving.
That's why he knew exactly what to say to mess with Crowley.
At 41:14 of episode 6, when Azira starts telling the (alleged) lie to Crowley, he becomes all flustered, moving his hands from side to side and stammering, SAME PATTERN as when he lies to the angels about having done the Nina and Maggie fall in love, in episode 2.
[This part really works better with 2 videos side by side, which you cannot do on tumblr, so if you want you can check them out here]
The sequence of him talking to Metatron at the table is nothing more than an enactment of his lie. The conversation didn't go like that, Aziraphale made everything up.
And when Crowley declares himself, Aziraphale starts shaking his head in despair: not now, don't tell me that now.
He also looks out the window as soon as the confession starts, as if he knows Metraton was watching him outside.
Then there's the kiss, Aziraphale falters for a moment, but he has to keep up with the lie and he knows he has to hurt Crowley on purpose. And after Crowley leaves, Aziraphale is MUST recover in seconds, because Metatron is coming back. Also notice that when Metatron comes back, he doesn't ask if Crowley agreed to go back to heaven or not. He just sends a "How did he take it?"
That is, there was never any choice, and for Metatron Aziraphale was only going to break the news that he was leaving. And Aziraphale had to invent a lie to the inmates to make sure Crowley stayed away from him.
This and this: https://www.tumblr.com/lomiel/725997048046960640/a-hefty-jigger-of-unreliable-narration have been my prevailing thoughts after watching Season 2 ngkth times. We see Aziraphale learning how to lie. We watch him do it convincingly. And then he does it to Crowley. To save him. It's how I'm resolving "you're the bad guys" and the hurt he caused with that line.
My only hesitation has been "I need you."
Is this Aziraphale breaking his resolve? Is he trying to push the conversation so far that they get to an actual hard breakup, not just Crowley storming out? I don't know, but I literally tear up just thinking about this moment. The anguish. His genuine tears. Maybe it's just dawning on him what he's doing, how hard this will be without Crowley. Or maybe he's trying to set the stage for when they can be reunited if all his plans work out? I don't know. I can't wait for season 3, to understand what was actually happening in all the fragments we don't see. Because a lot happens stage left.
