Goodjomans

[aduckwithears]

Vs

(imho)

[eklmrlos]

please just 90 minutes of them cuddling and being in love

[cliopadra]

A little addition to the Jehoshua’s card game alternate ending

[depraveddame]

AND ANOTHER THING.

“Destined to find each other in every universe no matter what” is literally the definition of predeterminism— it’s the soulmate trope.

Is the free will in the room with us?

[rainbowhyperfixation]

This was my comment when I reshared this meme I made about 6 months ago:

Yes, this. Fuck predeterminism, fuck god shipping people she’s torturing, fuck queerphobia even if it’s unintentional, and fuck Neil Gaiman

[tweedfeather]

I didn’t love them because they were soulmates or “meant to be together in every universe” or because God shipped them.

I loved them because they were two lonely weirdos who found each other all on their own while getting by in a fucked-up little universe. I loved them as an angel and a demon who cobbled together something strange and meaningful between them even when they were never supposed to do that. I loved how they loved each other in spite of the great plan, in spite of a system intended to tear them apart.

I wanted their love story to be one of defiance, not compliance with destiny.

[depraveddame]

This 👆🏻

Their connection was one they formed against all odds.

How could it ever be them in a hypothetical, fated-to-be-together multiverse where there are no odds at all?

[ineffable-rohese]

Yeah, I've definitely landed on S2-3 as "authorized fanfiction". A fun thing to play with, a way it could have gone, but not the way it definitely went. Taking what I love, treating the rest as ignorable. Asa and Anthony are darling AUs, alongside many other human AU versions I love.

Meanwhile, Crowley is frustrated that everything has gone cashless so gluing coins to the sidewalk is assumed to be a joke, and Aziraphale spends long hours complaining about Shein and the inability to get decent clothing these days, now that he's expanding his wardrobe. They take long walks and long drives and spend long, lazy summer days in the garden behind their cottage listening to birds singing and bees buzzing and drinking gin fizzes and eating sun-warm strawberries. Every year, the first one to hear a nightingale in spring gets to pick where they have dinner (the other picks what they do after). They toast to another year of being an us, and to the world.

[vavoom-sorted-art]

"There's got to be another way."

I refuse to believe they'd do this grrr

[yetrop]

Too soon?

[armageddidnt]

Yes, but I’m still cackling 

[dalliancekay]

Now, as Crowley would be the first to protest, most demons weren't deep down evil. In the great cosmic game they felt they occupied the same position as tax inspectors-doing an unpopular job, maybe, but essential to the overall operation of the whole thing. If it came to that, some angels weren't paragons of virtue; Crowley had met one or two who, when it came to righteously smiting the ungodly, smote a good deal harder than was strictly necessary. On the whole, everyone had a job to do, and just did it. And on the other hand, you got people like Ligur and Hastur, who took such a dark delight in unpleasantness you might even have mistaken them for human.

Okay, so Hell was down on him. So the world was ending. So the Cold War was over and the Great War was starting for real. So the odds against him were higher than a vanload of hippies on a blotterful of Owlsley's Old Original. There was still a chance. It was all a matter of being in the right place at the right time.

"It izz written!" bellowed Beelzebub. "But it might be written differently somewhere else," said Crowley. "Where you can't read it." "In bigger letters," said Aziraphale. "Underlined," Crowley added. "Twice," suggested Aziraphale.

"I like the seas as they are. It doesn't have to happen. You don't have to test everything to destruction just to see if you made it right."

They'd come up with some stomach-churning idea that no demon could have thought of in a thousand years, some dark and mindless unpleasantness that only a fully-functioning human brain could conceive, then shout "The Devil Made Me Do It" and get the sympathy of the court when the whole point was that the Devil hardly ever made anyone do anything. He didn't have to.

"Serve everyone right if all the nucular bombs went off and it all started again, only prop'ly organized," said Adam. "Sometimes I think that's what I'd like to happen. An' then we could sort everythin' out."

"I just don't see why everyone and everything has to be burned up and everything," Adam said.

In the jeep, Crowley was cursing. Aziraphale laid a hand on his shoulder. "There are humans here," he said. "Yes," said Crowley. "And me." "I mean we shouldn't let this happen to them." "Well, what-" Crowley began, and stopped. "I mean, when you think about it, we've got them into enough trouble as it is. You and me. Over the years. What with one thing and another." "We were only doing our jobs," muttered Crowley. "Yes. So what? Lots of people in history have only done their jobs and look at the trouble they caused." "You don't mean we should actually try to stop Him?" "What have you got to lose?" Crowley started to argue, and realized that he hadn't anything. There was nothing he could lose that he hadn't lost already. They couldn't do anything worse to him than he had coming to him already. He felt free at last.

If you want to imagine the future, imagine a boy and his dog and his friends. And a summer that never ends. And if you want to imagine the future, imagine a boot . . . no, imagine a sneaker, laces trailing, kicking a pebble; imagine a stick, to poke at interesting things, and throw for a dog that may or may not decide to retrieve it; imagine a tuneless whistle, pounding some luckless popular song into insensibility; imagine a figure, half angel, half devil, all human . . . Slouching hopefully towards Tadfield . . . . . . forever.

You will never make me think GO3 is compatible with the book.

[iforgiveyouprime]

Art by @wingly-coded

This is exactly what I wanted to see in the finale. The film was completely devoid of any emotion. They deserved at least an embrace. A desperate, long-awaited one, full of love, the desire to protect, and to love forever… Perhaps with tears, but tears of relief, as well as the longing from a long separation...

[crowleysgirl56]

Me too. Me too.

[sapierror]

also, I really don't know how to phrase this but to me the finale misses the joke, you know?

it forgets that the christian cosmology was the setting, told through corporate satire, not the villain. even God wasn’t an active tyrant; she was an absent CEO, leaving individual contributors like Aziraphale and Crowley to realize their job descriptions were irrelevant to the company's bottom line anyway, so they coasted by on minimum effort

that corporate satire was what allowed this to be a comedy, a space to tell a beautiful story about choices, humanity, and love. the finale for some reason treats that background seriously, it turns that setting into an omnipotent, dystopian threat, which completely suffocates both the romance and the humor by replacing a petty system you can outwit, outsmart, outmanouver with a bleak, unearned nightmare where "the company controls your every breath, and you can never clock out"

[copperplatebeech]

On the nosey. I've been struggling to express this by pointing out that Gaiman's sequel writing, like his entirely original work, is Very Serious, whereas the original and the script he skillfully derived from it is playful; he just can't seem to be genuinely playful on his own. I don't think he knows how (certainly the personal glimpses we've gotten of him over the past few years don't show someone who can stop taking everything seriously, least of all himself). The sequels try at a certain level of wholesome goofiness (yellow Bentley, naked Gabriel) but just... don't hit it for me, and you don't see the intrinsic susceptibilities in the corporate system (Upstairs and Down) that does, in fact, also take itself too seriously (and thereby makes itself ridiculous). Crowley and Aziraphale know that being caught in noncompliance could fuck them over, but they know that if you talk the company jargon you can submit a report and skive off, and that you can pull clauses out of the handbook and use them to gum up the works. And that goes with the humanist perspective that Sir Terry wove into the story; it's not a superhero yarn, but even the promo for s3 made it sound like a battle of the Justice League against Galactus or some damn thing.

Also, in the book they're basically Cold War operatives whose time in the field has left them cynical and more like one another than like their superiors, but the principles still apply. Their organizations have a grandiose vision. They're just trying to make it to Friday.

[hollow-head]

A missing scene. Thanks for all the fanart and fic throughout the years, you guys

[azaablue]

the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.

[waveofahand]

Good Omens meets John and Paul

Am I right or am I right? 

I mean, this video of the ineffable husbands of Good Omens is so McLennon it’s killing me.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hO-VfTg440Q

[twilightofthesandwiches]

And what if I never needed their souls to be 'intertwined by fate'? What if all that I needed is for them to love each other because they have known and understood and shaped each other for so long? And what if I never cared about them ‘finding each other in every universe?’ What if all that I wanted is for them, in this universe where the odds were so stacked against them, to choose each other?

[aduckwithears]

Anathema watching people get poofed out of existence left and right and realizing that she maybe shouldn’t have burned those damn propheci——

[tartan-thermos]

Listen, we all laugh at how much mileage Aziraphale is gonna get out of his kinky ‘captive princess’ fantasies once he and Crowley get it together, and we are completely right and correct to do so. But we’ve all been sleeping on the other half of that equation. Because Aziraphale’s the one who’s been setting up these, “Oh no, I am dramatically imperiled (and/or mildly inconvenienced); where oh where is the dashing and devilishly handsome knight who will save me?” scenarios for centuries - but Crowley’s the one who’s been turning up unfailingly, again and again and again.

Because Crowley? Crowley wants to be the hero. Crowley wants to be James Bond. He wants it so badly it hurts, bullet-hole windscreen transfers and all. Crowley’s deep, dark fantasy is that he can be good - but also a little bit bad. The rogue agent, the wild card, the one who doesn’t follow the rules, and doesn’t much truck with listening to his superiors. Crowley’s deep, dark fantasy is one in which he gets it right; in which he does the right thing at the right time, and has the right witty comeback in the right situation, and instead of being punished, he saves the day and wins the heart of the genderless celestial being of his choice. Crowley’s deep, dark fantasy is one in which he is never not in control of his situation; one in which he bounces back easily and stylishly from all manner of fights and challenges and adversity; where he faces nothing he cannot overcome with the right combination of wit, ballsiness, and a little Hollywood luck. Crowley’s deep, dark fantasy, the one he can never, ever admit out loud, is one where the world is simple and uncomplicated in the way nothing in real life is simple and uncomplicated; a world in which the good end happily, the bad unhappily, the baddies are dispatched in PG-13 fashion, and none of it needs to be questioned or second-guessed at all.

Crowley’s deep, dark fantasy is one in which there is nothing so dastardly, nothing so terrible or fearsome, that it cannot be solved by a guy in a flash suit arriving in the nick of time with a fancy car, and a complicated watch, and a pen that can write underwater.

[diavalkitty]