"A&C didn't kiss, so GO3 failed at queer representation."
Oh, I have a big problem with this take. See, I am queer and middle-aged. A good part of my social circle consists of queer middle-aged couples. Most are married. None engage in public displays of affection very much, not necessarily because of internalized homophobia, but because certain things are fucking private. But many struggle with others trying to oversexualize their love. "Who's the woman? Who's the man? Who's the top? Come on, you can kiss, no biggie, we're all open-minded here!"
So. Guess what we almost never get to see on screen? Hint: it has to do with middle-aged, married queer couples that are not oversexualized.
And guess what GO3 just gave us.
You guessed it. Representation.
Look, I get that you wanted your favorite characters to kiss. It's valid. It really is. But before you voice your disappointment as "GO3 failed the queer community"...
I think I’m finally understanding why Crowley kept saying “it’s always too late” and “you can’t change anything” for the entire series.
I don’t think he was being nihilistic, I think he understood from the beginning that the system itself was rigged. He fell for asking questions. He’s spent thousands of years watching Heaven and Hell manipulate people while pretending it was all part of some divine order, and he always knew it was never really going to work.
So by the time we get to the finale, Aziraphale is the one still holding onto the belief that there’s goodness or fairness somewhere inside the system, and the Book of Life finally breaks that illusion for him. Because suddenly existence itself can just be erased or rewritten for the sake of a tidy ending. That’s why Satan is there. That’s why they’re the last two people left on Earth. God wrote it that way because she thought it made a good story.
And Crowley has always known that on some level. They were pawns. They were always pawns.
So when God finally says “fine, you choose,” and they go into the bookshop Eden together, that’s the first real act of free will either of them has ever had. Crowley choosing a new universe isn’t really about destruction, it’s about choosing Aziraphale over the framework that has controlled them for millions of years. Like, if they can’t change anything inside the system, then why not change everything?
Crowley is choosing a place without all those constraints for everyone yes, but by doing so he is also choosing Aziraphale.
PS. They are celestial magical beings, they have a totally different understanding of what consciousness and matter are. Energy cannot be created or destroyed.
Plus, it’s clear that they are powerful together (ahem…the ‘tiny’ half miracle from S2) and they left this Universe with full autonomy, completely in agreement with both of their hearts truly and completely unconditionally full of reciprocated love. And then remade the Universe…I think that act and intention alone holds much power!
So the moral of the story, they never disconnected, they are still holding hands in the star dust, as star dust. Watching and giggling at all the silly lives their essence creates. And that for a pair of former ineffables, that might just feel like peace to them. ❤️
I've been spending a week telling myself that the ending of Good Omens S3 didn't affect me because the only canon boys for me are the ones in the book, but...
that's probably untrue because I also seem to have written a whole fanfic just to retcon it.
I don't consider this a fix-it fic, it's more of a I DARE YOU TO PROVE THIS DIDN'T ACTUALLY HAPPEN fic.
So here you go, spoilers under the cut:
And Everything Else
It was dark. Aziraphale had the unpleasant sensation of a million trillion atoms buzzing back into place. He could see nothing past his… nose? He thought there was a nose. Which was odd in itself; that wasn’t supposed to be.
“Crowley?” He ventured.
The sardonic groan that answered him from the void was reassuring.
“I say, Crowley! I thought we were dead!”
Somewhere below his left ear, Crowley wheezed. “Not dead, discorporated. Though I’m starting to wish it, got a whopping great headache.”
“But - why? How?”
“S’wot bloody happens when reality explodes, I should think.”
“No no, how are we still here? I distinctly remember nobly extinguishing ourselves from existence in a rather stirring act of self-sacrifice. You were there too, don’t you remember? Demands were made of the divine, the nature of reality was debated, certain feelings were disclosed…”
The angel stopped short, a sudden swoosh through the darkness seeming to indicate that his newly re-formed wings had shot up.
“Crowley!” he gasped. “Do- do you suppose that’s what saved us? Is our bond stronger even than the dissolution of time and space?”
Aziraphale couldn’t see his rangy companion but he could just feel the ironical arch of those brows.
“That’s one theory” came the languid reply. “Or could be… I dunno, could be that both our names are still written in the Book of Life.”
Something about his tone said he was suppressing a self-satisfied grin. Aziraphale swiveled toward him.
“Whatever do you mean? There’s no interference of the divine, remember? The new universe doesn’t have a Book of Life.”
“Right, but this universe does.” The demon flexed a wing experimentally. “This universe sticks around so long as the book does. We wrote a new one, if you’ll recall. And what do you suppose it says?”
Aziraphale strained to remember, and found his lips moving over the words like a half-forgotten rhyme. “There were four of them in that bookshop, which was the whole world…” he whispered.
“Exactly. Four beings… including yourself. Including yours truly. Still listed, still very much existing.”
Aziraphale tried to concentrate. He could feel the last of his molecules reassembling, and it made his fingers tingly. “But God said-”
“She said we can’t exist in the new universe. Didn’t say anything about the old one then, did she?”
“But- but Crowley!” cried the angel, wringing his hands, “Then what was the point? You said you wanted a new earth! A new start, without the meddling of the divine! You said a world without free will isn’t worth living in.”
“I did, and it isn’t. Think, Angel. Four of them in that bookshop. Where are the other two? The prime meddlers, if you will."
Aziraphale paused and blinked about into the void.
“Why yes - the devil and the lord herself, what’s become of them?
“It seems,” Crowley droned, sounding very much pleased with himself, “that when we requested an impromptu celestial reset they both jumped at the chance. Became rather occupied mucking about in an alternate universe where they don’t nominally exist, or some such. Probably a confounding affair with vague doppelgängers and the likes, if I know them.
Aziraphale started. “They left, just like that? To go exist in another universe?”
“To go not exist in another universe. But they’ll never not be entirely. S’long as there’s good, long as there’s evil. You wrote it yourself, God was here the whole time. Bit of a paradox but it’ll do in a pinch.”
“So” began Aziraphale, slowly, “if they’re off being nonexistent in another universe…”
“Then they’re not interfering in this one, just so happens” finished Crowley. His eyes twinkled, Aziraphale knew they did.
“Crowley!” he cried, somewhere between scandalized and impressed. “You mean to tell me this whole time- that it was all a ruse to get heaven and hell to finally leave the world alone?”
“What,” said the demon, “did you really think I was just going to throw away 8 billion people? Ninety trillion perfectly good star systems? And after all the trouble we went through trying to save them the first time.” He sniffed. “Ruddy waste if you ask me.”
“Why Crowley, you dear thing! I…. I don’t know what to say! You’ve saved the day! You’re a miracle!”
“Alright, alright,” he grimaced. “Don’t rub it in.”
“Don’t be modest, dear boy! Why, you’ve saved the entire universe!”
“We did, Angel,” he muttered. “Us.”
Aziraphale placed a hand on what he thought must be Crowley’s shoulder and squeezed it fondly.
“Though…” said Crowley, thoughtful, his tone sharpening abruptly, “I suppose I don’t have to tell you any of this.”
Aziraphale straightened. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Just that you jumped onboard with my throw-out-the-universe-and-die pitch awfully fast. You really mean to tell me you didn’t want to save the world just as much as I did? Have a little go at subverting divine will?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
Crowley’s voice was closer to his ear now. “Awfully convenient, wasn’t it, your happening to write our names down in the Book of Life like that. Without knowing it would save us.”
The Angel pursed his lips. “I… may have had an inkling.”
Crowley threw up his hands. “Of course you bloody knew! So why the charade? Do you get off on listening to me re-explain it all?”
“Oh, but Crowley!” the angel huffed, flustered. “It’s just, you do so love saving me.”
“I want you to know that I’m rolling my eyes, Angel,” said Crowley, “even if you can’t see it.” But he did not sound displeased.
Aziraphale brightened. “Well, to business then! The universe, you know - it’s rather… missing at the moment. How are we supposed to get it back?”
He felt Crowley shrug. “Rewrite the book, I suppose. I think there’s still a pen in my - yes, seems I’ve got my pockets back.”
“Re-write the entire universe! That will take ages! Eons!”
“You have somewhere else to be?”
The angel looked about into the vacancy. “Nowhere at all, it seems. I’ve nothing but time. Or lack thereof, I’m not sure time exists yet. Well then… how shall we write the world? Put back everything just as it was?”
“What, you want to put everything back? Including Gabriel?”
“Now Crowley…”
“Ooh and let’s leave out slugs. Never could stand them, all squiggly-like. Maybe we start with ‘No Gabriel, no slugs.’”
“Gabriel stays. And I don’t know, I rather liked slugs. All the overlooked things. They were… important.”
“Fine” drawled Crowley. “Have it your way. Here, I’ll start it off.”
“But what will you write?”
“I dunno, does it matter? Best of times, worst of times. Dark and stormy night. Call me Crowley. Take your pick.”
“Mind your penmanship!”
“I can’t bloody well see, now can I?"
“Wait! I’ve a good opening." Aziraphale groped about until he located something distinctly pen-like and something distinctly book-like. And he said the words as he wrote “Let… there… be - light.”
There was, and it was good. But also rather far away. The faint glow seemed a small question on a non-existent horizon.
It was enough for them to make out the gray outline of pages, though. Crowley contemplated their lines of script for a moment, then plucked back the pen back and hurriedly scrawled “And everything else.” He handed it off to the angel for approval, looking doggedly pleased.
Aziraphale pulled at a curl. “Perhaps a bit vague?”
“Sure, but it’ll save us buckets of time. 'Everything else' ‘bout covers it all. Humanity, polar bears, airplanes, Queen albums.” Crowley shuffled. “…Love. All that rot.”
They stood side by side in the yawning gray. Aziraphale suddenly found himself unsure what to say. So they gazed into the elongating dim, and they waited. The light was growing stronger, minuscule but steady. Somewhere far away and faint, Aziraphale thought he could hear the call of birds.
“Everything else. It’s coming closer,” said Crowley.
“I expect it is.”
“Taking it’s time, isn’t it?”
“Patience, now. The universe wasn’t built in a day.”
“Seven, if I recall.”
The light continued to grow, as did a great far-off din of jungle noises and the muddled song of rushing rivers.
Crowley bounced on his heels.
Aziraphale hesitated. “Crowley. Was it… all an act?”
“Hrm.”
“You know. The part where you looked at me like that, was it real? Just before we discorporated. Like you weren’t sure if the universe really would end, or if everything would work out, but that it somehow didn’t matter just then. The way you were looking at me, it was as if I was the whole universe.”
Crowley had assumed the demeanor of a deflated beach ball. “Are you really going to make me say it?” he muttered. “Last time I tried to tell you it didn’t work out so well.”
Aziraphale felt suddenly small. “Tell me what?”
The demon studied his feet. “Oh, that I love the world, but… s’not much good to me if you’re not in it.” He looked up at Aziraphale then, helpless, and it was a question.
It was almost here now, the Everything. The steady swell of light, the din of waters and winds and animals; a cacophony of life, surging towards them.
In the growing bright Aziraphale could finally make out the bedraggled figure next to him clearly. Crowley looked like he had been through every ring of hell and back and tripped down every escalator of heaven to boot. All for his sake.
The angel faltered. “Oh, Crowley. I’m sorry, dear fellow. So sorry for leaving you. I never should have gone. Only, I wanted so badly to put things right for the world but I ended up making a terrible muddle of things instead. You must know I never wanted to go - that it was all for you, because of you. That of all the things I love in the world, I love you the most. Oh, what dreadful ideas I get sometimes, running off and leaving you with no one but house plants and gangsters for company! Why if only I had stopped to think-”
Crowley's gaze softened as he looked at the babbling angel, adoring. The universe was closer now, so close, and the sheen of a thousand expanding nebulas danced in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Crowley,” Aziraphale stammered on, “terribly sorry.”
It was with infinite fondness and not even a hint of irony when Crowley touched his face and murmured back “I forgive you.”
The Everything rushed upon them then. And when they kissed it was with the brilliance of every star and a symphony of madly whirling planets and the chaos of a trillion galaxies exploding into being. There was a giddy leap of waves, and the great sigh of leaves in summer and friends calling out to one another and the tiny shuffling of every insect; a great burst of sunflowers and love songs and feel of their hands as they touched and the dizzy corkscrew of time itself. Reality brimmed over with with nightingales and orangoutangs and libraries and mugs of tea and the great contented shiver of all the things that ever were or would be as they clinked back into place.
It was awfully good, Aziraphale thought, as they held onto each other. There was so much light. And everything else.
I know I’ve been posting a lot of depressing thoughts about how devastated the finale made me feel. About how we were all yearning so hard to get the resolution and the queer love we deserved. And I’ve spent the last two days being completely heartbroken for what could have been and the queer dreams that were never realized. But being on Tumblr and reading all the reflections and ideas from the fans I think has finally helped me come to something of a realization. Helped me to see the light and the good that is here. Because the reason that this hurts so much is because we love so deeply. We love them and we love this story. There is so much kindness and compassion and love in this fandom and we all represent the love Aziraphale and Crowley have felt and wanted to express to each other for 6000 years. We carry them in all of us. Neil Gaiman (and others) tried to tell us that the happiness we wanted for them is impossible. God herself tried to remove them from existence. The entire universe has tried to tell us that our dreams will never be realized. But no one can take their love away from us. No one can take our love away from each other. God herself cannot tell us how their story will end. God herself cannot say that our dreams are impossible. We as a fandom create the reality that helps us hold each other so dear. Their love will always exist in us no matter what did or didn’t happen on screen. These are our characters. Since when has canon literally ever stopped us before?? It sure as hell isn’t about to now. You cannot destroy an idea. You cannot destroy love. Beyond any other versions of them, Aziraphale and Crowley‘s love, their happily ever after will live on for eternity in all of us.
I think I’m really just feeling so so grateful for this fandom and how we will continue to hold each other. It gives me a lot of peace and comfort to know that as long as we love these characters, their love and their dreams and our love and our dreams will never die. Every single one of us has helped to create their story, and every single one of us are such a beautiful and necessary part of this fandom. The strongest power in the universe isn’t God. It is us. The fans. We are more powerful than any God could ever be.
Idk I guess what I’m trying to say with all my incoherent ramblings is that I’m so glad we are all here together and I know in my heart of hearts that this love, our emotions and feelings about these characters, the meaning and relationships and richness and everything else that they have brought into our lives, will never die. I know these stories and this fandom have brought so much into the lives of so many of us. We will have that with us forever.
As always, thankful for this fandom, thankful for those that create art and stories and love, and thankful for you. Be kind to those that are grieving. Be kind to those that got everything they wanted. The love inside this story is the love inside all of us. And we will always have each other. 
Where the show creators have really threaded the needle, I think—for me, for me, I know we are all still processing and opinions vary wildly—is in showing Aziraphale and Crowley grow close again. Especially given how little time there was for it in a film-length finale after the devastation of S2.
We start with their first bitter exchange, Aziraphale’s hurt pride leading him to say,
“Look, I know you’re upset with me.”
“Yep.”
“But I’m willing to overlook that.” (Oh come ON, angel. Come ON.)
…
“Close the door on your way out.”
“But... you don’t have a door.” (Priceless.)
Then, though. Then. Crowley goes after Aziraphale almost immediately. And Aziraphale doesn’t expect it. Doesn’t know, at first, that it was Crowley who’d opened the door to the bookshop. Aziraphale’s “Crowley!” once he realizes it is an exhale—startled, gentle—and it absolutely murders me, the way he says Crowley’s name.
Their confessions start before that, of course—those rough, pained, raw confessions. Confessing their loss to others—sometimes, at the most inopportune times.
“I’ve lost worse things than that.”
“Heartbroken. World broken. What’s the point of anything?”
Muriel asking Aziraphale,
“Why don’t you ask your… friend friend to help?”
and Aziraphale hurrying to say that no, no, it’s out of the question—with that whole journey his face goes through as Muriel persists,
“He might like to see you, anyway. Last time I saw him, he wasn’t in the best way, to be honest.”
Then, Aziraphale finally turns to her, focused so completely on what he hears.
“He seemed a bit… lost,” she goes on—and in a heartbeat, before she’s even gone out of the room, Aziraphale is miracling himself to Earth.
Mrs. Sandwich, meeting Aziraphale as he witnesses the decay of Whickber street, tells him exactly what she thinks.
“You never cared for him. Or Whickber street,” she says, and Aziraphale’s face fills with pain.
“I… I love—Whickber street!” he protests: not saying it, never saying it, and yet we hear the unspoken.
Oh, angel.
The first gif is what we saw in the show. The second gif is Michael and David out of character in between takes (Michael is wearing his orange jacket, which Aziraphale/Asa is not wearing in the show).
Michael and David are holding hands in between takes and I am dying...
origamiaround
stormborns
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