Just in case you were wondering the same, they answered me in bluesky 🥳
Claire Keane

@theartofmadeline
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Today's Document
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Kiana Khansmith
i don't do bad sauce passes

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@tortarepostera
Just in case you were wondering the same, they answered me in bluesky 🥳
"The finale of Amazon Prime’s fantasy series Good Omens was supposed to be a gift to its fans, bringing closure and peace to the love story between the angel Aziraphale and the demon Crowley. How did it end up leaving so many furious and brokenhearted instead?"
From the article "Good Omens Revels in Heartbreak" - read below
Everyone can have their opinions and if you liked the final, good for you. But don't come saying that the rest didn't 'got' it like we are morons because, for once, we are majority:
Also, BTW, this was the rating of the second season, even with the awful cliffhanger:
They really f*** the finale, it can't be more obvious.
For me these are the biggest reasons but there are a lot more that I re-posted.
In light of the final I got the urge to quote marvel's Loki. the show had its troubles, but there's one thing that really stuck with me, and I find it HIGHLY relevant now:
"Sure. Burn it down. Easy. Annihilating is easy. Raising things to the ground is easy. Trying to fix what's broken is hard. Hope is hard"
(...but it's worth it)
I thought that would be the main message of good omens 3.
In the Finale Crowley was framed as some kind of hero, a main character, who never does anything wrong. I love Crowley, of course I do, but I love characters for their faults. I thought Aziraphale, who was framed as naïve for trying to fix the system, would have his moment to explain this for Crowley. Crowley had lost hope, and Aziraphale would give it back. We don’t have to destroy the world to make it a better place. We just need to fix what's broken. There's still hope. "There's still hope for us. I love you, Crowley. I love you more than anything in the entire world. But the world don’t need to die. No one does."
*cue romantic music and lovey dovey moment where they finally have their kiss and everything is fixed and nothing is ever wrong, ever again*
Whose Happy Ending Is It, Anyway?
This review captures what is, to me, the calculated cruelty of the finale:
So the ending we got feels like one final, ugly power trip by Gaiman, a statement to viewers that the highest and best use of the love they bear for these characters is for it to be sacrificed to the needs of the plot, dictated by the author-God for his own purposes. Crowley and Aziraphale’s love, and the viewers’ love for them, are manipulated and used against them to inflict emotional pain. Gaiman always sold the continuation of Good Omens as a tribute to Terry Pratchett, based on the conversations they’d had about a potential sequel book that never came to fruition. While there are some plot beats that feel like they might have belonged to Pratchett originally, you can tell who wrote this script. Pratchett wrote to share a story with an audience; Gaiman has written to subject the audience to his story.
Sorry to absolutely everyone who was let down by the disaster that was the end of the Good Omens TV show (hereafter called Showmens for ease of typing this barely coherent ramble) but I need to scream and cackle and monologue like a mad prophet whose awful visions have come true. "I warned you!" I shriek as the skies fall and the world ends, "I told you a man who cared more about Agnes Nutter's cottage than the dove resurrection couldn't be trusted!"
(And of course I should not leave it merely implied that Neil Gaiman should be in prison for his sex crimes, which are of infinitely more weight than anything I'm about to scream about here. I have nothing of value to add to that, but it should not be ignored.)
I still stand by that the original S1 Showmens was a good surface level adaptation of the book, but once you scratch below the surface, it did a fucking terrible job of adapting literally any of the themes of the book except the general value of humanity. It was kind of inevitable that Aziraphale and Crowley would become more major characters, especially since they'd been stealing the spotlight for nearly 30 years by the time of the show. I get it. What I don't get is how Gaiman managed to make Adam a supporting role in his own story. The Horsemen and the Them are there to be foils of one another; as someone more eloquent than me put it back in the day, the climax is a standoff between childhood innocence and the horrors of the world, and innocence wins. Life, Scuffles, Grubbiness, and Forgetting To Eat Because Something More Interesting Is Happening won against Death, War, Pollution and Famine. Adam used the lessons he'd learnt during play growing up as a human child to defeat the grand plans of Heaven and Hell. Shifting the focus from that to the part afterwards where where Crowley and Aziraphale bamboozle their bosses with bullshit was a major misstep imo, but it just one of a series of decisions than makes the whole of Showmens lesser than the book it's based off.
But okay let's talk about Aziraphale and Crowley, since that's all the show wants to do. The real crux of the story is humanity, and how Aziraphale and Crowley are just people. In the book, the angel accidentally killed a dove and the demon accidentally revived it! Do I need to say anything else? When Crowley was first handed the newborn Antichrist, he considered just throwing the thing as far as he could and trying to flee the consequences of killing the boss's kid. Instead he took the baby to the hospital as instructed. When Aziraphale found the location of the Antichrist 11 years later, he did his damnedest to convince an old man to shoot the kid dead "for the greater good". They're complicated disasters of people and that's the point, they're human!
In Showmens, God is watching, narrating, and explaining everything. It's all going according to Her plan. It was a lazy choice to get exposition and Pratchett narration into the show (a crutch the radio show did not rely on, even though it would have had more of an excuse to do so) and it immediately undermined the entire humanist message of the book. Aziraphale and Crowley are no longer fighting against every power in the universe for their love of Earth, but are just following God's ineffable plan. A huge point of the book was that even if God is real, there isn't going to be any grand miracle to save us. We need to cherish the world we have and each other. No higher power is going to fix it, we need to do it ourselves. There's a reason why Adam, avatar of humanity, tells the powers that be to stop interfering, we have to trust people to figure things out on their own.
And now I finally have the quote from a Pratchett interview I was sure existed but couldn't find in 2019 (thank you @laudnumdrinker) "There couldn't be blood on Adam's hands, even blood spilled by third parties. No-one should die because he was alive." which made me so unhappy about the execution scene in hell. I understand the narrative utility of having a minor demon killed to show the holy water worked, but it went directly against one of the most important aspect of the book, which is that Everyone Is Alright at the end. Everyone got their happy ending as a nightingale sang in Berkley Square.
It has been said by many book fans for many years that part of the brilliance of Good Omens was that Pratchett and Gaiman were brave enough and good enough writers to have an all powerful 11 year old save the day in a way that felt perfectly earned and narratively and thematically satisfying, where a weaker author would have fallen for cynicism. A lesser author would not have been able to write a coming of age story for the Antichrist which let him keep his childhood joy and innocence.
And now we know that we were wrong. Pratchett was the author who was brave enough to write that. Gaiman is the lesser author who can't write the beautiful, moving love letter to humanity which is Good Omens. He can only write a cynical, defanged shadow of it, and I'm sorry to everyone who only saw that at the very end.
I want to ask what they were thinking using a team of allocishet white men who specialize in dark fantasy and horror to write a queer comedy in 2026, but I suspect the reason is no one respectable would touch Neil Gaiman's work after we found out about his rapist history.
And it'd be nice if they gave a fuck, but they don't even care enough to watch it.
And now we know what was wrong with Good Omens 3, and I am so sorry for all of us it let down. Both the fans and creative team who loved it and did their best.
Politically bleak omens
Since Wednesday, I’ve been approached by more people than I can count with a variation of the same question, “How are you feeling now?”. Some of you have noticed that I’ve been keeping myself busy offline over the last few days. Experiencing and processing Good Omens 3 as a part of in-person, physical community was a conscious decision which I don’t regret — on the contrary, I’m deeply grateful to each person who’s been a part of that journey so far and happy to meet even more of you tomorrow. But I think that the rest deserves some kind of answer as well.
There’s a plethora of elements that I enjoy and genuinely love about the Finale, to the point where I’m called overtly optimistic or deep in the denial. I don’t mind either of those labels, and I’m sure that I will continue writing about those specific topics and other things that spark joy for a good while. But there are also some aspects of the production as well as the discourse around it that aren’t a matter of preference and need to be addressed in a broader context — not as a witch hunt or a morality contest, but a sign of the challenges we face on personal and societal level at the very moment and have to be more conscious about. And I’m sure that we can do it in a mature, nonviolent way, with kindness and compassion to everyone involved, no matter their circumstances and interpretations. But first, we have to establish some common ground for this discussion, which is why I will start by quoting Rachel Talalay’s TV Insider interview that has fuelled the initial fandom response into the blazing inferno it seems to be at the moment:
I mean, there was conversations throughout, quite specific in the script about that, there wasn’t another huge kiss. And the main conversation with Michael and David was, what could we do that means more than what was in Season 2? And the answer is the plot line is greater than what happened in Season 2, but another kiss would be — and I know that I say this with great love for the fandom because I know they desperately want, and they can write their whole sex scenes in fanfic, but definitely the whole group together felt like another kiss would be the same or less, and therefore really heading toward the emotion of it.
This is not meant to be criticism on a personal or professional level. I am deeply aware that Rachel — who joined the Good Omens 3 production team when the original six episodes were already scripted and in development, and yet tried to bargain for the best possible outcome with the fans in mind throughout her time as a director on this challenging in more than one way show — is slightly older than my own mother and possesses a set of life experiences that I, as a young demisexual lesbian, am unable to fully relate to. And vice versa, which is a completely normal and expected occurrence in itself. Unfortunately, even the most well-meant and delicately selected phrases sometimes fall flat, or, as it’s the case here, tone deaf, and I firmly believe that addressing those instances directly and deliberately is the only way to achieve some level of understanding and to move forward as better individuals and communities. I also believe that we should start the conversation by calling this kind of phenomenon by its name, unconscious bias.
Unconscious bias or implicit associations are a set of associations we hold outside our conscious awareness and control as a result of background, personal experiences, societal stereotypes and cultural context. It is not just about gender, ethnicity or other visible diversity characteristics — height, body weight, names, and many other things can also trigger unconscious bias. They affect absolutely everyone to some degree as a quick workaround enabling our overwhelmed brains quick judgement and assessment, but once identified and acknowledged, they can be absolutely managed. Unconscious bias are also the reason why the current discussion is so heated on the fandom’s part. After years and years of on-hands experience with all shades of queerphobia in the film and TV industry as much as in their personal lives, people quickly jump to conclusions that the director must be homophobic, the ending changed, and the characters’ identities maliciously erased. Which would be straightforward prejudice.
Let me reiterate with all of my gentleness and love: Good Omens, including its divisive Finale, is not about sex. Never has been, and seeing the wonderful kaleidoscope of fandom only through this particular lens seems not even disrespectful, as some have phrased it, but boringly predictable. After all, sexualising and even fetishising same-sex presenting couples has been an ongoing struggle both in the media and in the real world for far longer than either of us has been alive. Leaning in some way on those objectively toxic cultural norms when struggling for intellectual and emotional stability while raw from exposure to the press is not the worst thing a 67-year-old grieving widow can do, nor something she can feel particularly proud of when she’s more conscious of her actions. A woman that is openly a fan of the Good Omens novel herself and who publicly supported the fans on multiple occasions, including this interview:
I want them to feel that they’re in the hands of somebody who cared — and cares.
Attacking Rachel on a personal level is not the way to move forward, just a temporary solution for understandably vulnerable individuals wanting to redirect their disappointment and anger at someone even more vulnerable and at the same time more approachable than the unclear Forces That Be. Because the problem we’re all dealing with seems more political and in major part systemic, and needs to be addressed as such. Luckily Good Omens is a story about systems of oppression as well.
Humans are social animals. In academic terms, face-to-face interactions are often described by the famous 55/38/7 rule: 55% body language (facial expressions, gestures, and posture), 38% tone of voice (pitch, volume, and the rhythm of speech), and 7% spoken words (the literal vocabulary used). Now think about losing a person important to you — not necessarily a romantic or sexual partner, but a parent, a child, a dear friend. When saying goodbye to someone you love and consider your entire world, you automatically engage social and personal intimacy scripts as a way to reassure them about you still being there for them, especially when it’s impossible to tell whether they can fully hear or see you at that point anymore. Depending on your circumstances and cultural background, it can be achieved in many ways — through holding or kissing their hands, face, hair, even a full-body hug — but what matters is that on a visceral level, you simply want to be close to them and not let go until it’s really truly over.
For Aziraphale and Crowley, the entirety of their time together spent in the shadow of the Second Coming has been a painfully prolonged goodbye — yet tragically, neither of them allowed himself or his counterpart this small mercy of universally recognised and socially accepted intimacy above friendship. It’s obviously not like they didn’t share any physical contact through the ninety minutes they were given. There were multiple instances of handholding, steering each other in the right direction or grounding in their place when needed. All full of affection, but also all with a comfortable level of deniability that in the wider context can be seen as genuinely problematic. None of those gestures follow any recognisable cultural norms or media tropes expected of this type of relationship as theirs, and neither does the dialogue, which is why the film feels like a blow to so many disappointed fans, not because of the lack of fan service in the sense of more or less explicitly sexual content. Although let’s be honest, automatically equating kisses with sex is more than a bit baffling and would have never happened in a context of a cisheteronormative couple.
Queer people are primed to look for clues and signals around them all their lives because for them it’s a matter of survival. A lifetime of denied open communication and representation leaves all kinds of marks on a person and a community, especially when reinforced by the conservative-leaning media exposure. It makes the option of a fantasy world where queer love isn’t worse or different and truly conquers it all, in bold, all capital letters and Disney-like gestures, ever so appealing. This is why finding a fandom like Good Omens, which seemed not only unapologetically, beautifully open to all kinds of outsiders, but actively subverting their typical role of background comic relief and making them main romantic leads in the story — their story — has been so life-altering for multiple people I’ve talked to over the years. It was a transformative safe space and a centre of excellence for all kinds of creative activities, a source of joy, inspiration, and human connection that was unfairly unattainable for so many of fans throughout their lives so far. And I hope that amongst the current chaos, it will remain as such, even if irrevocably changed in so many ways now. Unfortunately as it often happens, removing that openness as the one particular element that felt so significant in this community building exercise had started a domino effect of truly Biblical proportions.
On a painfully personal level, I used to have a Crowley in my life as well, someone who was by my side through my formative years, inspired me in thousands of little ways and, for better or worse, helped me grow into who I am today. Ironically, someone I met shortly after reading Good Omens for the first time, even though the parallel became apparent to me only years afterwards, when it was already too late for us to laugh about it together. It took us not six millennia, but six years to get properly together, and waiting this long had never seemed like a big issue. When she requested the same thing as Crowley did, I still said categorically and unequivocally no, with the full knowledge of the price I would pay for it. And I never regretted it. Because I believe that living in a world actively denying your very existence is the act of ultimate rebellion and ultimate sacrifice at the same time. Being queer is the real adventure of a million lifetimes — the incessant weight of expectations, the nagging what-ifs of family members or authority figures, the responsibility of being seen and acknowledged not only as a person, but an entire community you might feel more or less connected to.
There’s a saying that each openly queer person is an ambassador of their entire minority group for the majority and a role model for those in-groups who need one. It’s a never-ending performance for the sake of others, even if you choose to just live as yourself, because just by embracing your queerness and otherness you become a walking source of hope and will to live in times and places painfully deprived of it. When you’re young, you’re the promise of a better future your elders fought for. When you’re older, you’re a living, breathing proof that life doesn’t have to end with each badly accepted coming out, unrequited love, or even personal loss — a statement that so many children and teenagers still need and deserve to believe in. It’s a lot of responsibility when you’re just a regular person. When you’re a main character of a beloved story, you become more than a symbol — a living legend. And legends have the power to shape the world on levels completely unattainable to even very powerful individuals. Which is why all of this seemingly irrelevant fandom discourse is actually incredibly important in a broader context.
Don’t get me wrong here, Good Omens has always been a love letter to humanity first and foremost and the idea of Aziraphale and Crowley choosing what amounts to double suicide for the good of mankind is still in line with that sentiment, especially when leading to a much better outcome than intended. The fact that we didn’t learn the path to this decision through Terry Pratchett’s own lines is something that steals a lot of value from it, but cannot be helped — it’s enough that we know that this is the ending that he wanted and his estate fought for. This particular approach would have worked well as an adaptation of that planned sequel over thirty years ago, with the limitations of both their roles as side characters in the story and the real world’s political and social treatment of queer people and couples at that exact point in time. The thing is, it’s 2026 now, Aziraphale and Crowley’s romance grew to become the focal point of the Good Omens universe, and the current combination of recent world events and a series of creative choices transformed the original ending into an unnecessarily bleak political statement that takes away the attention from its intended moral of love transcending God’s ineffable plans as well as how the real miracles can be found in the perfect chaos of an entirely godless, mundane universe. In the context of queer people and their media representation, similar sacrifice storylines will always be seen in a vastly different light. And that surplus layer of meaning has tremendous negative consequences on the active part of fandom as well as the general queer community outside of its circles.
It’s not about the sex, not even the stolen and baited by Amazon Prime in the worst way possible kisses. There are so many ways to physically express romantic love and affection — incredibly important also in the asexual context — and we’ve seen some of them already occur between Aziraphale and Crowley. Erasing an entire level of verbal and nonverbal communication in the Finale is a conscious decision that not only feels like a discourtesy towards the characters’ journey so far, but also sends a chilling in its clarity signal that same-sex presenting love is something uncomfortable and better dealt at a safe distance. Even when that was clearly not the intention of the cast and crew who fought for this title to end on the highest note possible and deserve respect and recognition for their achievements on that front.
It wouldn’t be an issue — or at least an issue of this magnitude — if we were talking only about Aziraphale and Crowley. But unfortunately all of the unconventional storylines from S2 have met some sort of tragic conclusion. Nina and Maggie’s businesses were ruined, their own fates beyond Whickber Street left completely uncertain. Mutt’s seemingly plot-irrelevant and unnecessarily mentioned off-screen death with its weight on their still unnamed spouse shocked to the point that the sudden revelation of Mrs Sandwich’s sex work dividing a family that needs her can be overlooked. Even in the abridged romcom of an alternative human lifetime, Asa and Anthony relied in a big part on easily overlooked or censored context clues like the wedding rings and vague references instead of non-negotiable declarations and actions. And I’m certain that some translators and viewers have already used this window of opportunity to minimise the intended impact of this scene.
Even a simple goodbye hug or a forehead kiss would be a statement that queer characters deserve more than on-screen physicality born out of raw desperation or animal desire. That they can utilise the same nonverbal language as their non-queer counterparts without being judged. That their intimacy isn’t different than that of cisheteronormative couples we’ve seen in multiple beds — even while actively engaging in sexual acts — in the first season of Good Omens. It would be also a sign of what seems forgotten somewhere in the meanders of the production hell and personal struggles: that Good Omens, while intended as a fun summer adventure, grew out of its genre confines into a love story, and deserved to be treated as such. Not just a love story between an angel and a demon, but a story of love transcending the highest power structures and shaping entire universes. Destroying the system together with its institutions specifically built as tools of oppression is the only way towards radical change and freedom of expression, something that Terry has been personally aware of when plotting Good Omens in the middle of the political upheaval of the late 1980s and early 1990s, but the modern TV show had failed to highlight enough. Instead of inspiring and encouraging, the ending can be easily misunderstood as a story about giving up and running away, especially to younger and queerer audiences already dealing with this type of reasoning in terms of representation and their personal lives.
In times of intensified fascist activity targeting queer media and individuals alike, witnessing a spectacular collapse of a community centered around the title that even 36 years ago was seen as a beacon of hope for people like me seems like a tremendous red flag in terms much bigger than storytelling. And it’s clearly not due to the lack of attention to detail or love towards the characters on the cast and crew part, but genuine top-down pressure limiting the creative processes and decisions in this particular context. Who’s more at fault here, Neil Gaiman, Amazon Prime, a secret third option? We can debate this among ourselves and out in the open through available media outlets, but please don’t take the easy way out. Don’t attack those closest to you. This type of reaction is precisely what helps this world become an even worse and less accepting place.
I will just repeat the last message I wrote before the Good Omens 3 release:
The world as we know it might come to an end in a moment, but the one that comes after it is vast and brimming with opportunities. Reach out to one another and take them together, little miracle makers.
Some thoughts on why Good Omens S3 felt so disappointing from a queer theory perspective; major spoilers below the cut:
This is an EXCELLENT analysis. Especially the point about allyship vs actual queer experience. I got so infuriated by that interview with Talalay and you've hit the nail right on the head of why that was so frustrating - not only does it demonstrate a fundamental misunderstanding of the kiss in s2, imo, and of what a romantic story requires in pay off terms (any romance that has a 3rd act break up with an angry kiss absolutely needs a loving kiss to provide proper catharsis/resolution to the audience, just speaking purely in narrative/genre terms), it also seems to say that fans are perverts for wanting to see these characters kiss. And I didn't think of it myself so very much appreciate your point that it basically falls into the trap of seeing an expression of love that is very much an accepted mainstream part of het couples becomes seen as inherently sexualised when it is queer.
And whilst I can see the IDEA of it being beautiful that they find each other in every universe, one of my biggest problems is that this wasn't THEM, it was two people who vaguely looked like them and share one or two common interests. Their personalities, memories, experiences all gone, turning them into inherently different people. And yes, nice to see some older gay men who look sort of like characters I loved get together, but it had none of the resonance that the creators clearly intended.
And fundamentally, their failure to outright proclaim their love for each other, to articulate and make undeniable that they LOVED each other, and to address the ways in which they had previously let each other down/rejected each other/failed to understand each other - was just an absolute slap in the face.
Thanks very much for sharing that interesting analysis (and I've never heard of the queer time concept, will have to go explore that further!)
So, they couldn't make the finale that Terry really wanted (see here the last part of my first post). They also didn't make the finale that fans wanted (or at least coated it a little, because "sometimes you don't give the audience what they want", see this other post). So, for whose was the finale for? For NG? To make an ending just like Sandman? And they expect us to be ok with that?
About direction choices:
So, the 'no kiss' was a direction choice? I had read an interview to Talalay (I can't find it now) before the release date, where they asked about Michael Sheen comment about the things we (the fans) would argue, and she said that she talked with him about it and was 'one' thing, and that sometimes the audience doesn't get everything they want or something like that. In that moment I thought it was something that was cut because of budget or screentime, I thought maybe we weren't going to get the South Downs. But it seems it was the kiss?? I mean, it's one of the things we are arguing about, and Talalay is saying that it would have distracted for the intensity of the scene. Also, remember that Michael Sheen had access to the early scripts, so the kiss maybe was scripted but not done?? And that's why he argued about it? It makes the absence of the kiss much worse.
Edit: I found the comment were they confirmed the kiss wasn't scripted, but they discussed it and resolved not to add it.
All my respect for Talalay, I know she isn't the person to blame, but in other interviews she was backing the decision to the 'no-kiss' for the reasons I said above. Those reasons sound like directing choices, even if she didn't made the final choice.
The world is losing the art of perfectly or at least adequately wrapping up a good story, which I will also blame on capitalism
First thoughts about the finale and an important question:
Ok, I'm devastated. I watched the finale in 3, 30' parts. The first when it was released (it was 4 AM here), the second on Wednesday night, and the last part just about an hour ago.
The first 30' were so sad. It's not just that Crowley is really heartbroken and they have several difficult conversations, but also Crowley is a little mean? Of course he has the right to be, but he sometimes says things to Aziraphale that are really hurtful.
And then the next 30' were a lot more hopeful. They were THEM again. They worked together. They even go to eat (that really made 0 sense, the Book of Life was still lost, Jesus was still lost). I felt that we were going to have a good finale.
And then... the last 30' happened? I feel this is a nightmare. Why make a 6000 years romance and just shut it down with an extra 20 mortal years? In which they don't even remember each other? I used to think that the fear that a lot of people had about them becoming humans wasn't going to happen because it would have been bad writing, and Good Omens didn't had bad writing, but, well...
And I wonder if this is really the finale that Terry wanted? I mean, maybe the godless universe 'reboot' was in the original idea, I can see that. Maybe in the 'second book' the romantic story wasn't that important, we know they made it more important in the series. But the 'second' book was going to be called 'the neighbour of the beast', and were was that in the plot?? And in the first season Crowley says (and I think they also say something similar in the book) that 'the next one' was going to be all of 'us' (heaven and hell) against all of 'them' (humanity), and it wasn't?? It was just Heaven playing chess. Humans were irrelevant, Jesus was irrelevant, even Hell was irrelevant. I don't know, I think there are a lot of missing plot points.
Also, there was this interview to Terry. If he didn't wanted anyone dead in the first book (and it seems NG did), why should that be different in the 'second book'?
The nightingale in part 3
My only wish for the finale.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, at least until the finale, we will see after the release, Angst, Meta, Post-Scene: The Bullet Catch Magic Show (Good Omens) Summary:
What I think happened after the 1941 minisode in Season 2. Canon-compliant, at least for now.
“Wanna dance, angel?” Crowley said in a mocking tone, holding out his hand. /* there were angels dining at the Ritz */ Aziraphale smiled, a little ashamed, and looked away. “Angels don’t dance, you know that.”
Just in case you were wondering the same, they answered me in bluesky 🥳
Reposting because reasons...