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Yuri: You’re in love with me?

Viktor: Have been for the past year, thanks for noticing.

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[prettybirdy979]

Good Omens | 1.02 The Book

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the one where crowley gets nervous about something 

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One thing I love about Crowley --never stated, but consistently shown-- is that he is, at heart, an engineer.

I have a few different things to say about that. Let's unpack them.

As the Unnamed Angel, we see his designs for the Pillars of Creation are millions of pages long, comprised of cramped text, footnotes, diagrams, schematics etc. It's very...Renaissance polymath, in the way it implies a particular intersection between artist and inventor.

Also: in the naked romanticism with which he views his stars.

We already knew he made stars, but in s2 we learn that he did NOT sculpt them one-at-a-time. He designed a nebula ("a star factory," he says) that will form several thousand young stars and proto-planets, and all --beyond getting the 'factory' running-- without him lifting a finger. We also learn that these young stars and proto-planets stand in contrast to those made by other angels, which are going to come 'pre-aged.'

...I'm reminded of Hastur and Ligur's approach to temptations. Damning one human soul at a time, devoting singular attention to it over the course of years or decades, and how that stands in contrast to Crowley's reliance on, quote, 'knock-on effects.'

Ligur: It's not exactly...craftsmanship. Crowley: Head office don't seem to mind. They love me down there.

Hm.

I'm also reminded of the M25.

The M25 may not be as grand as a nebula (sentences you only say in GOmens fandom...), but LIKE his nebula it's an intricate, self-sustaining engine that does Crowley's work for him, many times over. Again.

That's some pretty neat characterization --and so is the indication of Crowley's disinterest in victimizing anyone tempting individual people. It takes a considerable amount of planning and effort (and creeping about in wellies), but in accordance with his design the M25 generates a constant stream of low-grade evil on a gigantic scale.

Cumulatively gigantic, that is. Individually? Negligible.

But no other demon understands human nature well enough to parse that one million ticked-off motorists are not, in any meaningful way, actually equivalent to one dictator, or one mass-murderer, or even one little influential regressive. That's the trick of it. Crowley gets Hell's approval (which he NEEDS to survive, and to maintain the degree of freedom he's eked out for himself while surviving), and at the same time ensures that any actual ~Evil influence~ is spread nice and thin.

It's some clever machinery. And he knows it, too:

The Unnamed Angel and Crowley are both proud of their ideas.

(musings on professional pride, Leonardo da Vinci, the crank handle, and 'the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale' under the cut)

In the 1970's Crowley gives a presentation on the M25, projector and all, to a room full of increasingly impatient demons. Maybe the presentation was work-ordered; the 'can I hear a WAHOO?' definitely wasn't.

Before the Beginning, the Unnamed Angel can barely contain his excitement about his nebula. Aziraphale manages a baffled-but-polite, "....That's nice...! :)"

11 years ago, Hastur and Ligur want to 'tell the deeds of the day,' and Crowley smiles to himself because (according to the script-book) he knows he has 'the best one.'

(Naturally, his 'deed' has nothing to do with tempting anybody, and everything to do with setting up a human-powered Rube-Goldberg machine of petty annoyance. Oodles of 'Evil' generated; very little harm done.)

They don't get it, of course. That's also consistent.

Nobody ever knows what the hell he's talking about.

It didn't make it on-screen, but, in both the novel AND the script-book, Crowley was friends with Leonardo da Vinci. The quintessential Renaissance polymath. That's where he got his drawing of the Mona Lisa --they're getting very drunk together, and Crowley picks up the 'most beautiful' of the preliminary sketches. He wants to buy it. Leonardo agrees almost off-the-cuff, very casual, because they're friends, and because he has bigger fish to fry than haggling over a doodle:

He goes, "Now, explain this helicopter thingie again, will you?" Because he's an engineer, too.

(It is 1519 at the latest, in this scene. Why the FUCK would Crowley know about helicopters, and be able to explain them, comprehensively, to Leonardo da Vinci?

...Well. I choose to believe he got bored one day and worked it out. Look, if you know how to build a nebula, you can probably handle aerodynamics. And anyway, I think it's telling that this is his idea of shooting the shit. 'A drunken mind speaks a sober heart,' and all. He probably babbled about Aziraphale enough to make poor Leo sick)

Leonardo da Vinci is the only person Crowley has any keepsakes or mementos of, apart from Aziraphale.

Think about that, though. Aziraphale's bookshop is bursting with letters, paintings, busts, and personalized signatures memorializing all the humans he's known and befriended over 6000 years (indeed: Aziraphale has living human friends up and down Whickber Street. He's part of a community).

Crowley doesn't have any of that. It's just the stone albatross from the Church (for pining), the infamous gay sex statue (for spicy pining), the houseplants (for roleplaying his deepest trauma over and over, as one does), and this one piece of artwork, inscribed, "To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V."

To me, at least, that suggests a level of attachment that seems to be rare for Crowley.

...Maybe he liked having someone to talk shop with? Someone who was interested? Someone engaged enough to ask questions when they didn't immediately understand?

...Anyway.

There's also the matter of the crank handle.

This thing:

This is one of the subtler changes from the book. In the book, Crowley knows Satan is coming and, desperate, arms himself with a tire iron. It's the best he can do. He's not Aziraphale; he wasn't made to wield a flaming sword.

The show, IMO, improves on this considerably. Now he, like Aziraphale, gets to face annihilation with what he was made for in his hand. And it's not a weapon, not even an improvised one like the tire iron.

He made stars with it.

[both gifs by @fuckyeahgoodomens]

If you Google 'crank handle,' you'll get variations on this:

Crank handles have been around for centuries. Consisting of a mechanical arm that's connected to a perpendicular rotating shaft, they are designed to convert circular motion into rotary or reciprocating motion.

Which is to say they're one of the 'simple machines,' like a lever or a pulley; the bread and butter of engineering. You'll also get a list of uses for a crank handle, archaic and modern. Among them, cranking up the engine of an old-fashioned car... say, a 1933 Bentley. That's what Crowley has been using his for, lately. But he's had it since he was an angel and he's still, it seems, very capable of it's angelic applications.

I know everyone has already said this, but: I REALLY LIKE that when he needs to channel the heights of his power, he does so not with a weapon but with a tool. Practically with a little handheld metaphor for ingenuity, actually. One from long-lost days when he could make beautiful things.

(And he loved it. Still loves it, I'd say --he incorporated it into the Bentley, didn't he?)

Let Aziraphale rock up to the apocalypse with a weapon: he has his own compelling thematic reasons to do exactly that. Crowley's story is different, and fighting isn't the only way to express defiance. And if you've been condemned as a demon and assumed to be destructive by your very nature, what better way than this?

He made stars. They didn't manage to take that from him.

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are fighters, really --they have no intention of fighting in any war. They'll annoy everyone until there's no war to fight in, for a start. But between the two, if one must be, then that one is Aziraphale. Principality of the Earth, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Wielder of the Flaming Sword... all that stuff. Even if he'd prefer not to, it's very clear that Aziraphale can rise to the occasion, if he must.

Crowley was not that kind of angel. He wasn't a Principality. He has no sword.

...And yet.

It's Crowley who protects. He's the one who paces, who stands guard, who circles Aziraphale and glares out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near.

In light of everything else I've said here, I think that's interesting.

Obviously part of it is that Aziraphale enjoys it and, you know, good for him. He's living his best life, no doubt no doubt. But what about Crowley? What's driving that behavior, really?

Have you heard the phrase, 'loved to the point of invention'? Well, what if 'the point of invention' was where you started? What if where you end up involves glaring out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near? What is that, in relation to the bright-eyed thing you used to be?

What do we name the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale?

...Thinking about how an excitable angel with three million pages of star design he wants to tell you all about...becomes a guard dog. Is all.

[prettybirdy979]

[prettybirdy979]

Just One More Page

Ace Omens Hugfest prompt - "an evening hug"

Crowley waited until the final strains of the Golden Girls theme finished playing, then switched off the telly and stretched. “Think m’ gonna head to bed. You wanna join me tonight?”

The only answer came in the rustle of turning pages.

“Angel.” Wincing at the ache in his hips, Crowley hopped off the sofa and went over to the armchair, where Aziraphale had been completely absorbed in his book for at least the past three hours. “Oy. Aziraphale.”

He waved his hand in front of Aziraphale’s face, blocking the page. Aziraphale looked up at last and beamed. “Crowley! When did you come in from the garden?”

“Three hours ago.”

“Oh.”

“S’ pretty late in the evening.” Crowley gave a tempting little sway and nearly overbalanced. “Was wondering if you wanna join me in bed.”

“Ah!” Aziraphale glanced down at his book, then back to Crowley. “Yes, rather. Be there in just a moment. Let me just finish this page.”

“I’ll go set up.” After a quick kiss to the top of his husband’s head, Crowley limped off. He’d definitely worked in the garden way too much lately, probably should have been using his cane, but he wasn’t totally sure where he’d left it.

Might still be in the garden, actually. He’d been threatening invading rabbits with it the day before. At least he’d be laying down soon, wouldn’t need to worry about his legs giving out.

He got the bedroom ready, turning back the blankets, fluffing pillows. He even put a box of chocolates on Aziraphale’s bedside table and arranged a few of his favorite books, just in case. A snap of the fingers provided wine for both of them. This would be a perfect way to unwind together before bed.

Except that Aziraphale still wasn’t here.

Crowley waited a few more minutes, leaning against the wall and messing around on his mobile. Aziraphale still didn’t show.

“Angel!” Crowley called as he headed back to the hall. “Are you still in your damn armchair, reading? Come on, it’s bedtime.”

He turned down the hall and snorted. No, Aziraphale wasn’t in his armchair anymore. He was standing in the middle of the hallway, completely absorbed in his book.

“Are you serious right now?” Crowley stalked down the hall and circled Aziraphale. Aziraphale didn’t so much as look up. “Aziraphale!”

“Hmm?” Aziraphale’s eyes briefly flicked up, and he beamed again. “Ah, my dear. Be there in just a moment.”

“You said that ten minutes ago.” Crowley draped himself against Aziraphale’s back in a pay attention to me sort of hug, his chin resting on the angel’s soft shoulder. “Come on, m’ ready for bed. Wanna sleep.”

“I’ll be ready in just a moment.” Aziraphale tilted the book so Crowley could read over his shoulder. “Just let me finish this chapter.”

“Ten minutes ago, it was a page!” Heaving the most dramatic sigh he could manage—which was pretty dramatic with how much his legs hurt—Crowley leaned most of his weight against Aziraphale. It was more effective than using his cane, honestly, and had the bonus of being warm.

Unfortunately, Aziraphale also had whatever the opposite of a bonus was. Namely, that he still hadn’t moved after another five minutes.

Not so much reading the book as glaring at it, Crowley watched impatiently until Aziraphale reached the end of the chapter. Then, leaving one arm hooked around Aziraphale, he smacked the book with the other. “Oy. It’s bedtime. And I mean it this time, angel. My legs are killing me.”

“What?” Aziraphale immediately shoved his book on one of the hallway tables without even marking his place. He twisted around, which knocked Crowley off balance, and luckily caught his arms before he could topple over. “Oh, you absurd old serpent, why didn’t you tell me you were in pain?”

“Er. Dunno.” He was always in pain, for one thing. “You were reading.”

“I would have stopped reading immediately had I known you were hurting!” With a series of disapproving little clucks reminiscent of a broody hen, Aziraphale wrapped an arm around Crowley and steered him towards the bedroom. “You are awfully silly, you know.”

“Oy, you’re the one who read an entire chapter while standing the hallway.” Crowley sank into bed, and although his legs still ached he found himself grinning. Aziraphale just looked too adorable, buzzing around the room and fussing over him. An extra blanket landed on his lap, and then Aziraphale fluffed the pillows. “I already did that.”

“Well, they had time to sink rather a lot, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale cradled his cheeks and kissed his brow, then climbed into bed too. “Here, my dear. Come cuddle, and I shall warm your aching bones.”

Crowley snorted, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale again. “It’s my muscles that ache, actually.”

“Still.” Aziraphale hugged him closer. “And, Crowley? I do love my reading, but not nearly as much as I love you. Please tell me next time if you really need me to stop.”

“Nah, I was fine. Honestly, it was kind of funny.” Melting against the soft warmth, Crowley closed his eyes. “Besides, now I get extra hugs. Decent tradeoff, if you ask me.”

Sighing, Aziraphale petted his hair. “You are awfully silly sometimes.”

“Yup.” And very comfortable now. “So are you.”

[prettybirdy979]

now they do this every time they have to walk into a church 

[prettybirdy979]

82 YEARS AGO - BATMAN DEBUTED FOR THE FIRST TIME Eighty-two years ago on March 30, 1939, Detective Comics #27 hit newsstands, introducing the Caped Crusader for the very first time in a featured story called “The Case of the Chemical Syndicate.”

“And for all that fierce exterior, I’ve never met anyone who cared as deeply about his fellow man as Bruce Wayne.”  - Amanda Waller, Justice League Unlimited, Season 2 Episode 13 (2005)

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Crowley and Aziraphale doodles

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The characterization of Jason Todd in Gotham Knights is my favorite. I've loved the character for many years and am glad to see some nuance and for him to be more than just "edgy" and angst driven. He's sensitive, he cares about his family, he cooks, he goes to therapy, and he's built like a fridge. He's perfect, no notes.

[prettybirdy979]

Role swap au where Zuko was the Avatar who got frozen for a hundred years, so when he’s rescued from the ice instead of a goofy twelve year old Katara catches this mysterious teenager with long hair and a cool scar and a fucking DRAGON

Katara: BOY???? HOT BOY?????? HOT TEENAGE BOY?????????

Zuko: *speaks*

Katara: nevermind I hate him

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Innefable husbands but make it smºl

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campfire snoozes

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Hold fast. Brave the storm

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Some early spring vibes.

Also filed under “The Adventures of Lady Bracknell and her Chaffeur/Bodyguard”. Tbc

[prettybirdy979]

Hi, could you tag Good Omens fan art as such?

I am not sure what you mean anon. I tag good omens fan art as good omens; I don't usually tag anything more specific than that unless it's my own. I won't make a promise I can't keep. I'm not likely to tag fanart as fanart because I'll forget.

If this is an issue for you, please unfollow.