Good Omens is all I wanna draw right now so I made a prompt list for myself, but I’ll be happy if anyone joins for even a single day, tag #gomenstober2023 if you do!!
Good Omens is all I wanna draw right now so I made a prompt list for myself, but I’ll be happy if anyone joins for even a single day, tag #gomenstober2023 if you do!!
here's a little comic, it's not completely show!gomens compliant but its headcanons i enjoy
comic notes under cut :)
I enjoy Az already realising he likes Crowley by the time Adam appears but hasn't yet worked out what to do with that information bc acts-of-service Crowley Can't Talk, Wont Talk.
Crowley on the other hand has been VERY GOOD at ignoring why he spends so much of his time around Az so only on the crux of YOU'RE GOING TO LOOSE HIM did anything manage to force its way through to his brain. (i did not enjoy crowley being told he was in love with az in s2, i think he could have worked it out himself)
i rly enjoy hcs where they started sleeping together and with humans for fun (i mean the ox ribs scene sets some v good precedent for this) az sleeps with humans bc he indulges! he likes pleasure! crowely on the other hand is very bad at catching feelings and doesnt like it when they die so has mostly only slept with az (did i mention he's VERY good at ignoring his feelings) but they probably haven't slept together for a few hundred years when adam pops up.
my compliant show!hcs are still that az knows he loves crowley (i mean the scene with jim where he leaps out of the chair to attempt to protect crowley saying no he defo doesnt know ANYONE who he feels that way with, don't look closely at anyone he is with) and is just sort of sitting on it still, waiting for any hint from crowley, planning a ball definitely only for humans and no other reason. Crowley is obviously very protective of Az but he still hasn't clicked why he's worried about him but he doesn't have the excuse of heaven or hell anymore so it wouldn't have taken much for him to work it out (hello one of his first lines in s2 is "you ever think, what's the point?" the point is love you idiot)
(book!gomens is just they're already married and have been fucking for centuries but the book just doesnt mention that.)
aziraphale thinking they’re in a jane austen romance novel vs crowley thinking they’re in a richard curtis romcom is funny but there’s SO many more ways they could’ve gone with that. greek myths vs k-drama! emily brönte vs the twilight movies! shakespeare vs ao3 slash fic! Imagine the miscommunications
Aziraphale, in his new position as Supreme Archangel, could make his job a lot easier by delegating most of the tasks to whomever he pleases.
He doesn't.
There is a modest office opposite the Earth Observation Chamber and its archive, a golden-yellow touch of colour in an otherwise sterile white building, and in that office is a desk that has never had to listen to the laws of physics and never will. After a few initial moments of hesitation, he had miracled a suggestion box right next to the door that, for the most part, remained open.
It is in this office, with an overflow of paperwork to his right and a portal link straight to the archives on his left, that he first receives notice of a miracle performed on earth by Muriel, 37th-order Scrivener and current representative in London.
'Frivolous miracles' only exist in the minds of the other Archangels, and so he barely looks at it, ready to put his signature at the bottom and send it to be sorted into its section, when a familiar name makes him pause. His breath hitches despite the fact that he has not taken a single breath since re-entering heaven, and he slowly, slower than he needs to, reads the details of Muriel's miracle.
Leaving out corporate details, the note can be summarised as follows:
'The angel Muriel miracled a 100% cotton blanket in the reinstated Embassy for the demon Crowley.'
Don't, he tells himself, vision blurring, don't go looking for him.
Long, dark evenings, wine-red cheeks, high on each other's company and the warmth radiating off their skin, bodies falling onto the couch, close, closer. They shouldn't, they really, really shouldn't. Aziraphale places his glass on the coffee table, talking before he leans back again, just to be interrupted by a sudden weight on his shoulder.
"Maybe we sh- oh."
Crowley, fast asleep, his wine glass empty but precariously balanced in a limp hand, his face pressed into Aziraphale's neck. He can feel the gentle, regular ghost of his breath caressing his skin, the smooth locks of hair long enough to fall past his collarbone tickling him whenever he exhales.
There are moments in which choices need to be made quickly and without regret, and this was one of them.
They shouldn't.
Aziraphale plucks the glass from his grasp and carefully frees his arm without jolting Crowley, wrapping it around him and holding him in place.
He really shouldn't.
With only a thin shirt between his palm and Crowley's skin, the heat seeps deep into his bones, inviting him to stay, and so he does. Making himself comfortable, he reaches for a book and dims the lights with an absent thought, glancing down at the demon with fluttering eyes and parted lips.
He really, really shouldn't.
The note, which remained unseen by some stroke of luck, contained the following information:
'The Principality Aziraphale miracled a 100% cotton blanket in the earthly Embassy for the demon Crowley.'
Aziraphale gingerly positions the blanket so it covers as much of Crowley as possible, giving into the urge to rest his cheek on top of his head just once. Melted candle wax, smokey campfires, and a smidge of ginger that may or may not be his shampoo; his hair feels exactly as soft as it looks. Crowley stirs, pressing into the touch, and mumbles something he is too scared to admit is angel.
Somewhere on earth, Crowley is fast asleep and kept warm by a blanket Muriel thought to summon.
Aziraphale signs the notification and watches as it disappears into the archives, leaving not the slightest trace. Then, with a tremor in his hands, he stands up and closes the door to his office, waiting until the lock clicks shut and a floating 'do not disturb' appears on the other side before sliding down the wall.
He thinks of a familiar heartbeat next to him, sparkling golden eyes, soft, sleepy breaths, and cries.
"Angel," Crowley interrupts him, far more gently than he thought himself capable of, "I know."
Some of the tension bleeds from Aziraphale's body, and his fingers still, unclenching and leaving behind pale half-moon scars on the outside of his wrist. His cheeks are flushed with a bottle of wine and the taste of it on Crowley's tongue, and when he inhales to calm his own trembling hands, he is hit with a wave of unconcealed desire. For a second, it is impossible to tell where Aziraphale's ends and his begins—not that it matters anymore, not with three feet of space and the weight of God's gaze separating them.
"I know," he repeats, trying to forget the caress of wine-stained lips on his throat, the press of warm hands on his face, his ribs, sliding down and down and-
He pulls his shades out of wherever he had banished them and slides them back into place, gritting his teeth at the disappointment settling on Aziraphale's face. Dawn is an hour away, and the pleasant chill of angel-blue eyes meeting the hidden gold of his makes him consider staying until the sky turns grey; yearning for another taste of something is so much more dangerous than the temptation of the unknown. Crowley knows that if he does not leave now, he probably never will.
"See you soon?"
Aziraphale smiles, fragile, hopeful, scared. The brittle glass inside his chest that is holding back centuries of desperate longing cracks, forming the tiniest fracture, and Crowley allows the next sentence to slip through; just this once, he lets himself be honest.
"Couldn't live without you, angel."
Within one inhale and the next, he is gone, and Aziraphale watches the door unblinking until the sun washes away Crowley's shadow.
So I was watching this old video again because the new Good Omens season triggered my obsession with Neil Gaiman's stories that creeps up periodically ( and his voice is soothing to listen to while I draw) And at about 1:25:30 there's a part that really made me giggle, cause this is what he says when asked about themes in his work:
"I remember once somebody asked me about the kiss that would occur in my books three quarters of the way through, to indicate that we were now moving into act three. And I said 'what'. And they said 'well you must be conscious of it, you do it every time.'"
This shot through my brain like a chain of firecrackers, so, without derailing the original post, I have some THOUGHTS to add about why this concept is not only hilarious (because it is), but also...
It. It kind of fucks. Severely.
And in a delightfully Pratchett-y way, I'd dare to suggest.
I'll explain:
As inferred above, both Crowley AND Aziraphale have canonical Biblical counterparts. Not by name, no, but by function.
Crowley, of course, is the serpent of Eden.
(note on the serpent of Eden: In Genesis 3:1-15, at least, the serpent is not identified as anything other than a serpent, albeit one that can talk. Later, it will be variously interpreted as a traitorous agent of Hell, as a demon, as a guise of Satan himself, etc. In Good Omens --as a slinky ginger who walks funny)
Lesser known, at least so far as I can tell, is the flaming sword. It, too, appears in Genesis 3, in the very last line:
"So he drove out the man; and placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life."
--Genesis 3:24, KJV
Thanks to translation ambiguity, there is some debate concerning the nature of the flaming sword --is it a divine weapon given unto one of the Cherubim (if so, why only one)? Or is it an independent entity, which takes the form of a sword (as other angelic beings take the form of wheels and such)? For our purposes, I don't think the distinction matters. The guard at the gate of Eden, whether an angel wielding the sword or an angel who IS the sword, is Aziraphale.
(note on the flaming sword: in some traditions --Eastern Orthodox, for example-- it is held that upon Christ's death and resurrection, the flaming sword gave up it's post and vanished from Eden for good. By these sensibilities, the removal of the sword signifies the redemption and salvation of man.
...Put a pin in that. We're coming back to it.)
So, we have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword, introduced at the beginning and the end (ha) of the very same chapter of Genesis.
But here's the important bit, the bit that's not immediately obvious, the bit that nonetheless encapsulates one of the central themes, if not THE central theme, of Good Omens:
The Sword was never intended to guard Eden while Adam and Eve were still in it.
Do you understand?
The Sword's function was never to protect them. It doesn't even appear until after they've already fallen. No... it was to usher Adam and Eve from the garden, and then keep them out. It was a threat. It was a punishment.
The flaming sword was given to be used against them.
So. Again. We have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword: the inception and the consequence of original sin, personified. They are the one-two punch that launches mankind from paradise, after Hell lures it to destruction and Heaven condemns it for being destroyed. Which is to say that despite being, supposedly, hereditary enemies on two different sides of a celestial cold war, they are actually unified by one purpose, one pivotal role to play in the Divine Plan: completely fucking humanity over.
That's how it's supposed to go. It is written.
...But, in Good Omens, they're not just the Serpent and the Sword.
They're Crowley and Aziraphale.
(author begins to go insane from emotion under the cut)
In Good Omens, humanity is handed it's salvation (pin!) scarcely half an hour after losing it. Instead of looming over God's empty garden, the sword protects a very sad, very scared and very pregnant girl. And no, not because a blameless martyr suffered and died for the privilege, either.
It was just that she'd had such a bad day. And there were vicious animals out there. And Aziraphale worried she would be cold.
...I need to impress upon you how much this is NOT just a matter of being careless with company property. With this one act of kindness, Aziraphale is undermining the whole entire POINT of the expulsion from Eden. God Herself confronts him about it, and he lies. To God.
And the Serpent--
(Crowley, that is, who wonders what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway; who thinks that maybe he did a GOOD thing when he tempted Eve with the apple; who objects that God is over-reacting to a first offense; who knows what it is to fall but not what it is to be comforted after the fact...)
--just goes ahead and falls in love with him about it.
As for Crowley --I barely need to explain him, right? People have been making the 'didn't the serpent actually do us a solid?' argument for centuries. But if I'm going to quote one of them, it may as well be the one Neil Gaiman wrote ficlet about:
"If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization."
--Robert G. Ingersoll
The first to ask questions.
Even beyond flattering literary interpretation, we know that Crowley is, so often, discreetly running damage control on the machinations of Heaven and Hell. When he can get away with it. Occasionally, when he can't (1827).
And Aziraphale loves him for it, too. Loves him back.
And so this romance plays out over millennia, where they fall in love with each other but also the world, because of each other and because of the world. But it begins in Eden. Where, instead of acting as the first Earthly example of Divine/Diabolical collusion and callousness--
(other examples --the flood; the bet with Satan; the back channels; the exchange of Holy Water and Hellfire; and on and on...)
--they refuse. Without even necessarily knowing they're doing it, they just refuse. Refuse to trivialize human life, and refuse to hate each other.
To write a story about the Serpent and the Sword falling in love is to write a story about transgression.
Not just in the sense that they are a demon and an angel, and it's ~forbidden. That's part of it, yeah, but the greater part of it is that they are THIS demon and angel, in particular. From The Real Bible's Book of Genesis, in the chapter where man falls.
It's the sort of thing you write and laugh. And then you look at it. And you think. And then you frown, and you sit up a little straighter. And you think.
And then you keep writing.
And what emerges hits you like a goddamn truck.
(...A lot of Pratchett reads that way. I believe Gaiman when he says Pratchett would have been happy with the romance, by the way. I really really do).
It's a story about transgression, about love as transgression. They break the rules by loving each other, by loving creation, and by rejecting the hatred and hypocrisy that would have triangulated them as a unified blow against humanity, before humanity had even really got started. And yeah, hell, it's a queer romance too, just to really drive the point home (oh, that!!! THAT!!!)
...I could spend a long time wildly gesturing at this and never be satisfied. Instead of watching me do that (I'll spare you), please look at this gif:
I love this shot so much.
Look at Eve and Crowley moving, at the same time in the same direction, towards their respective wielders of the flaming sword. Adam reaches out and takes her hand; Aziraphale reaches out and covers him with a wing.
You know what a shot like that establishes? Likeness. Commonality. Kinship.
"Our side" was never just Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley says as much at the end of season 1 ("--all of us against all of them."). From the beginning, "our side" was Crowley, Aziraphale, and every single human being. Lately that's around 8 billion, but once upon a time it was just two other people. Another couple. The primeval mother and father.
But Adam and Eve die, eventually. Humanity grows without them. It's Crowley and Aziraphale who remain, and who protect it. Who...oversee it's upbringing.
