This is the “Picture a wave speech from The Good Place over top of a scene from the end of the Good omens finale. It’ll probably make you cry. As I said in the comment on youtube:
Even though I made this, I kind of hate it.🙃
I really really didn’t like how the Good Omens finale ended. I am still grieving for Aziraphale and Crowley and literally everyone else in that universe. But this “Picture a wave” discussion over the top of this scene was too compelling.
It might make some of you feel better. It might make others of you feel angry or sad. I’m the latter. So, enjoy it, if you’re able.
I do have currently one other mashup like this posted. And there’s at least one more coming 🫠🫂
Anthony is gone. He searches for his lover and finds him sitting in the dark in the living room after having a nightmare. Asa wish to help Anthony, but will he let him?
Notes
Just them learning about each other a little more each day.
On Ao3
Rating G - 1416 words
Asa woke up with an odd feeling.
Something was off.
Lately, he had gotten used to waking up with Anthony’s arm around him, his legs tangled with his own, or both.
This happened whether in the middle of the night or when he woke up in the morning.
That was the cause of his odd sensation.
There was no entanglement.
He reached behind him and found only emptiness and cold. This meant that Anthony had probably left the bed a while ago.
Asa opened his eyes wide and saw that it was still pitch black, which was even weirder. Anthony must have been very quiet because Asa, a light sleeper, hadn’t noticed anything.
A little worried, he looked around and was relieved to see that Anthony’s clothes were still there. Nevertheless, he decided to get up. After grabbing his robe and slipping on his slippers, he left the bedroom and headed toward the living room.
As soon as he stepped inside, he saw his lover’s silhouette illuminated by the faint glow of streetlights below. Asa was seated in the velvet armchair, slumped over with his arms wrapped around his knees and his head resting on them. Asa didn’t need more light to see that Anthony wasn’t well.
Worried, he approached slowly. Not wanting to startle him, he whispered softly, "Anthony…"
His lover lifted his head and turned his gaze toward him. His expression was so sad that Asa rushed over and knelt before him. Taking Anthony’s clenched hands in his, he asked in a concerned voice, "Anthony, tell me. What’s wrong?"
But his lover shook his head without answering.
Asa said softly, "If you don't want to talk about it, I won't force you. If you want to be alone, I’ll accept that, too."
"That would be better, yes."
Though disappointed, Asa didn't insist; he had to respect Anthony's wishes. With a heavy heart at not being able to help his lover, he began to stand up. However, just as he was about to let go of his lover’s hands, they held him back, and he heard Anthony plead weakly, "Stay…"
Wanting to be sure, he knelt down again to meet his lover’s gaze. Once he was at eye level, he said softly, "Anthony, my dear, you must be clear with me. Whatever your decision is, I will respect it without reservation. Do you want me to stay, or would you rather be left alone?"
Anthony whispered again, this time looking at Asa. "Stay, Please."
Asa nodded and said softly, "Why don't we get comfortable on the couch? I don’t know how much longer my knees can take this."
Anthony nodded before letting himself be led to the couch, where Asa helped him sit down before sitting next to him.
Then, he took Anthony’s hand and asked softly, "Do you want to talk about it?"
Anthony hesitated for a moment, as if torn by an inner conflict, before saying, "Would you just hold me?"
Anthony looked so fragile and vulnerable that nothing could have stopped Asa from granting his request. Without answering, he opened his arms, inviting his lover to snuggle up against his chest, and then closed his arms around him.
He slowly stroked Anthony’s back in a repetitive, soothing motion and occasionally pressed a kiss against his hair.
Suddenly, Anthony whispered hoarsely against his chest, "It was a long time ago. I was twenty. We’d gone out with friends to a gay bar downtown, a discreet place. We laughed and danced and we had that carefree spirit unique to youth, you know?"
Asa hummed softly, listening intently. His hand caressed the back of Anthony’s neck, anchoring him in the present. His heart tightened as he sensed where Anthony’s story was leading.
"When we left, it was late," Anthony continued, lost in his memories. "The sidewalk was plunged into shadow. There were three men. They were waiting for us. I don’t know how to describe that feeling to you. It wasn't just fear. It was the sudden realization that my world had just come crashing down."
He paused, his fingers clenching Asa’s pajamas, then continued, "They surrounded us. They started hurling insults at us. Then, the blows began to rain down. I saw my friend fall to the ground. I was paralyzed. I was young. I had no reflexes, only that pure, cold terror that froze me."
Asa felt his heart clench. The thought of his lover, who always seemed so strong, being so vulnerable and facing such violence sent a chill down his spine.
"What happened next?" Asa asked softly.
"People showed up," Anthony replied, nodding. "Passersby and people coming out of nearby bars. They heard the shouting and intervened right away. The attackers fled before the police arrived. We came out of it okay physically. We had bruises and a few cuts, nothing serious. But..."
He paused and lifted his head, finally meeting Asa’s gaze. "That night, something changed inside me. I realized that if I spent my life in fear and hid, they would have won."
Anthony took a deep breath and his tone changed, becoming firmer though still tinged with vulnerability. "That's where my approach to life comes from: living without apology or censure. I refuse to apologize for existing, for loving, or for being who I am."
Asa remained silent for a moment before kissing his lover's forehead. Then, caressing his cheek, he said softly, "Ever since we started dating, I've often felt like I'm leaning on you. You have a gentle strength that’s comforting and pushes me to be myself. Knowing where that strength comes from makes me lo- admire you even more. You have every reason to be proud of yourself, dearest, because I’m very proud of you and what you’ve made of that tragic situation."
Anthony leaned against Asa, closed his eyes, and wrapped his arms around his lover’s waist, slipping his hands under Asa’s pajamas to feel his warm skin.
"It was a nightmare from that time that woke me up. It doesn’t happen to me very often anymore, the last time was a year ago. But right now, with the start of the school year, I’m a little anxious, so I think that’s what triggered this nightmare."
He lifted his head and said sheepishly, "Sorry for waking you."
Asa brushed his lover’s hair back and then, keeping his hand on the back of Anthony's neck, he said softly, "Yes, you can be sorry."
"Why do you say it like that?"
Asa replied in a feigned scolding tone. "Because you didn’t wake me up."
"But I didn't want to disturb you."
Asa replied softly, "That's the problem. Not wanting to disturb me. I’d rather you disturb me than be out there alone, trying to manage on your own."
Anthony smiled slightly and replied, "I guess that's one of the things we have to learn together."
Asa nodded then added, "You have the right to lean on me too. In fact, I want you to."
"I promise I'll try. I’m glad you woke up and came to see me."
Asa replied softly, "Me too, my dear," and leaned down to press another long kiss on his lover’s forehead.
When he sat up, he asked, "What do you want to do? Go back to bed? Or would you like to do something else?"
Anthony replied, "I'd like to go back to bed, but I'm afraid I'll fall asleep again and have the nightmare. Could we stay here?"
"As you wish."
Asa leaned back and settled Anthony so that he could lie down on the couch and rest his head in his lap. Asa tucked the blanket around his lover, ran his fingers through his hair, and began to gently stroke his head.
After a few moments, Anthony hummed contentedly and smiled. "You know, my angel, if you keep this up, I'm going to fall asleep."
Asa asked softly, "Would that be so terrible?"
Anthony curled up a little and replied, "I just don't want to have that nightmare again."
Asa leaned down and kissed his lover's forehead. "What if I stay awake to wake you up if you have a nightmare?"
"Would you do that for me?"
Asa replied tenderly. "That and much more. So, if you feel sleep overtaking you, don’t fight it. I’m here."
As he spoke, Asa continued his light, hypnotic caresses. Anthony, no longer struggling, gradually let himself be carried away by sleep, trusting that Asa would be there to ward off the nightmares.
in good omens the question of free will was always both treated lightly, amusedly, and also as the crux of many of Aziraphale and Crowley's arguments in an interesting and productive way – Crowley often tempted Aziraphale into doing something by saying "if it's ineffable* anyways...then nothing you do can be wrong..." (flirting) and Aziraphale then used that as an easy excuse to do precisely what he wanted to do. it was endearing and a dance around an old philosophical question that can never be answered, not in their universe nor in ours (if you allow for God's potential existence for the sake of argument). good omens never even asked "Do humans have free will?" because the answer the story provided was a clear yes. the question of free will mostly came up between Aziraphale and Crowley with regards to themselves. (and there too, the text implied a clear yes.) the og story never framed "Do angels and demons truly have free will?" in a critical or negative way (rather in a curious, investigative, playful one) and never even attempted to provide an answer either, but rather used it as a fun argumentative plot device. then suddenly in the finale the topic of free will became this almost would-be-villain. that sits so wrong with me tbh
*ineffable, it bears pointing out the obvious, also does not mean predetermined but rather unknowable, indescribable, beyond understanding or expression
Even in s1 and s2 both Az and Crowley literally, clearly state that people have free will. "People have free will, it includes the right to murder!" (Crowley after turning paintball guns in real guns) "I'm the good guy, you're the bad guy. But people get to choose." (Az while arguing with Crowley about body snatching)
can't stop thinking about how a finale ostensibly in tribute to Pratchett ends with the obliteration of memory--and with it, the existence of the characters he gave us. given the craters left by Alzheimer's, in his life and the lives of those who loved him, that ending strikes me as especially cruel.
I know most folks got this out of their systems last week, but as I'm only now catching up, all I can think is how desperately, horribly sad I feel. I'm so tired of death; I'm so lonely for all the happiness we don't get to touch.
the way other characters respond to Aziraphale--a taker, lazy and gluttonous, only there to manipulate Crowley, the object of his silly love--really rankles when you consider Aziraphale as a sort of analogue for Terry, too
I would like to register a complaint. This person should not be allowed in heaven. Complaint duly noted and registered. Will it make a difference? Oh no.
So much bothers me about this finale, most notably how everyone is hating on Aziraphale, and if no one else comes to his defense I may yet have to.
But the most disturbing thing to me at the end is that Aziraphale once again puts on a mask of bravery. This momentous decision isn’t what he wants or truly believes is the right thing to do.
He conceals his disappointment with Crowley’s answer to what he really wants and just goes along with Crowley’s decision - out of guilt (over what exactly l’m not sure, see the first sentence above), disappointment, or because Crowley has been right before? Who knows.
My point is, our canonically intelligent angel who has always found subtle and creative ways to defy the higher powers follows Crowley into oblivion on a moment’s whim and against his own will and beliefs.
I think the number one thing that people don't understand about this show is that:
Heaven and Hell are not opposites, they are the same thing
Aziraphale and Crowley are not opposites, they are the same sort of person
Heaven and Hell are part of one broader system, controlled by God for ineffable reasons of Her own. They are not two groups of people who behave particularly differently from each other, or who have drastically different goals. In fact in S1 we find out that the archangels themselves are knowingly and voluntarily collaborating with demons in order to further their mutual aims.
Therefore it follows that Aziraphale and Crowley, instead of being for example an angel-type person and a demon-type person (no matter who you think is which) are actually the same type of person, a human-type person.
Here's where another big misunderstanding comes in.
A lot of people think that Heaven forced Aziraphale to be quiet and submissive, to obey orders instead of exercising his natural strength and ability to lead, and that Hell forced Crowley to be tough rather than letting him be gentle, and that the solution for this is for them to swap roles, so that Aziraphale can be a strong BAMF and Crowley can be, well, fandom Crowley.
And actually, they were *both* forced to be tougher than they wanted, and they both just want to relax and have a good time, as evidenced by how they behave when there is nothing pressing they need to do.
wasn’t gonna drink tonight but then i remembered that aziraphale died thinking that the person he chased the approval of his entire life thought he was lazy and gluttonous, and that nobody— not even his best friend / partner— would stand up for him. plus despite the fact that he disobeyed direct orders to help humans and demons alike countless times, his legacy is just another mindless drone of heaven rather than someone just as “brave” as his counterpart. sedate me🥃🥃🥃
It's usually Aziraphale that does the writing. Books. Words. That his thing, y'know. When someone is able to set stars in the sky, you don't stand between them and their work, just let them get to it.
Hope, though. That's always been mine. Finding the silver linings.
Hell of a flaw for a demon to have.
In time, Aziraphale will write a full recounting. He'll have beautiful prose and a full summary. I'll be sure he doesn't start in Eden so we can finish it inside a human life span. In the mean time, here is a short message from a demon to tide you over.
The world was gone. The universe I so loved. And yet we stood in a bookshop that was nowhere and everywhere. Aziraphale took my hand and somehow I had everything. The books were blank, yes.
But we both remembered them and they weren't fading. We were the repository for the world that we loved. At one point, we started bickering over wine and Aziraphale was holding a copy of the Canterbury Tales morosely.
Geoffrey was a character.
We both spent many a night at a tavern with him as he wrote and even I knew those stories, I think by heart. I wanted Aziraphale to be happy. So, I started writing. The Clerk, the Miller, the Squire.
It spilled from me and I realised Aziraphale's hand was on my shoulder. A miracle pouring into a book. That's how it started. There's more story here and a discussion with God that I think I'll leave to his story telling.
You all have an idea how I feel about our Creatorand her decisions.
And in the end, we are here. Still an angel (now retired) and demon (former). The bookshop is in Soho, where it belongs with Muriel behind the till. And maybe you'll hear more of our cottage now that we're not afraid to spoil an ending for you.
There's no apple tree at its heart, but there is one in the garden that's a bit unique. And in our home universe there are some angels and demons on earth now, too. Not all of them made that choice but some decided retirement was the best option.
There isn't only us of course. You've seen Asa and Anthony (well, one version of them). Each stroke of your pen or click of a keyboard is another. The universes weave in unique and wonderful ways.
As a former star maker, I am proud of you all for making more stars.
Each contained in a story. That's always been what amazes me about humans, you don't understand that within each of you there are universes untold. You only need see them. And once you do, maybe share it with each other.
Aziraphale and I are here. And we'll always be here. He has another challenge planned soon for you lot and I'm considering adding one as well, if you would like.
Anyway, Aziraphale will write something more poignant I'm sure. I'll be sure to help.
This quote led me to a chunk of the larger piece (I'm sure I have the whole thing in one of my books of Pterry's writing but I can't find any of said books right now) and a couple of other things stand out to me.
First, we have confirmation that Pratchett was the one who actually put Good Omens together in its final form: "One person has to be overall editor, and do all the stitching and filling and slicing and, as I've said before, it was me by agreement" which honestly explains A Lot about the differences between the book and S1 of the show. I think it could be argued that the book was Good Omens put together by Pratchett and the show was Good Omens put together by Gaiman, which would explain the vast differences in vibes even if the main story is functionally the same.
Secondly, "Neil's had a major influence on the opening scenes, me on the ending" to me neatly explains why the ending of the book was so bravely, unabashedly, unrealistically happy and hopeful, and why the TV finale was... not. Even in the work of him that I've enjoyed (which is quite a lot, even if it is now soured by Events) Gaiman doesn't do fully happy endings, and they always end up bittersweet at best, and i don't think even in a best case scenario that was what a continuation of Good Omens needed, but it's what Gaiman gave it regardless.
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