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catre33 · 9 months

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Good Omens and Harry Potter crossover

I've seen quite a number of these in which Crowley and Aziraphale are professors

But consider:

1977

Crowley was standing outside of the local bookshop of an isolated Scottish village. The cocoa he had bought to surprise Aziraphale was growing cold in his hand. For the third time, he miracled it warm.

"What's taking him so long?" he complained aloud. He glanced through the window to see Aziraphale still engaged in conversation with the owner. Crowley caught a glimpse of the angel's grin and quickly swivelled his head back 'round, his race red. Crowley was the first to figure out that demons could blush, although some argue it was Aziraphale.

His gaze wandered over the street, and a group of young adults, (or possibly teenagers; he wasn't very good at assuming age.) caught his eye. One in particular. In Crowley's opinion, the most well-dressed of the three of them.

The youth was incredibly pale, and his long black hair astonishingly contrasted this. He had tattoos practically plastered across his skin, and many of them depicted astrological symbols.

But what truly piqued Crowley's interest was his clothing (which differed greatly from his friends', they were much more academic casual.) He wore tattered jeans and a graphic T-shirt. Merchandise of a band led by a dear friend of Crowley's.

Crowley thought for a moment and decided anyone with such an interest must be worth having a chat with.He made his way across the cobblestone.

---

Sirius Orion Black was having a jolly good time. This was the fourth occasion in the self-proclaimed Marauders' seventh year in which they had successfully snuck out of Hogsmeade and into the nearest Muggle village.

He, James, and Peter were all standing on the street while Remus perused an antique shop. Sirius had opted for his favourite Muggle clothes, while the others had simply chosen to discard their robes.

The group had just finished discussing how to avoid Lily and Remus' NEWTS studying schedules when they were approached, quite out of the blue.

The man's hair was a red to rival Molly and Arthur's, though it was more fiery than real ginger. He wore sunglasses, despite the gloom of the day; and his clothes were all varying shades of black and grey.

He appeared to have a devilish look about him, with a hint of a smirk in his scowl - if that was possible. From afar, Sirius had taken him for a Muggle; but closer now, he was no longer certain. The feeling was hard to describe, other than an odd sensation to his presence.

"Erhm, hallo." the strange man greeted them with a timid wave. "Couldn't help but notice... Uhm..." He trailed off. He could have been staring into the distance, but it was impossible to tell with his sunglasses.

The Marauders exchanged glances and silently motioned for the man to continue.

He pointed at Sirius' chest.

"You like Queen?" he asked.

Sirius stiffened immediately. He'd been criticized on numerous occasions for his taste in Muggle music.

"Yeah, so?" he replied, agitated.

The man spread his hands in surrender.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Nothing like that," as if he could see straight through Sirirus' thoughts, "simply wanted to talk to a fellow fan." the man extended his hand congenially. "the name's Crowley."

"Thank GOD." James surged forward and seized Crowley's hand, making the man and his eyebrows jump. "Sirius will not stop talking our ears off. 'Queen this, Freddie that.' You saved us in the nick of time; we were on the brink of insanity."

"I-," Sirius scoffed, "I don't talk about it that much."

"That's true," Peter piped in, "sometimes he talks about Bowie!"

"Bowie's good, too!" Crowley added, nodding vigorously.

James patted Sirius' shoulder, 'See? You've made a friend!"

Sirius grinned and shoved James away, then nodded to Crowley.

"This is James and Peter. I'm Sirius."

"Yeah, I caught that; but what's your name?" Crowley said through a smirk.

"Ha, ha. You're a riot." Sirius rolled his eyes. "Just Crowley?"

"Ah, well. Anthony, if you like."

The bell jingled behind Sirius and he turned to see Remus walking out of the shop.

"Moony! You're finished!"

"Hey Pads," Remus walked up and gave Sirius a quick peck on the cheek before pulling him close.

"Oh, who's this?" Anthony asked; looking surprised, yet elated.

"Anthony, this is my boyfriend Remus. Moons, he came over to talk to me about Queen!"

"Is that so?" Remus shook his head and chuckled. "Anthony... Italian roots?"

"Ehrm..." he paused and shrugged, "Ssssure?"

The odd response raised eyebrows all around, but before they could ask further, another joined the party.

"Crowley? Is that you?"

This newcomer was the absolute polar opposite of Anthony. He had very cherubic features: bright fluffy hair, sparkling eyes, and a brilliant grin. He wore a well-loved and well-kept waistcoat, which looked a couple of decades old.

Upon seeing him, Anthony became flushed.

"Agh, hallo, angel. Got you this." Anthony handed him the cup he was holding, which was suddenly steaming.

"Cocoa? Oh, thank you, dear boy!"

Anthony growled and turned away. Sirius and Remus exchanged a knowing look.

"Sooo," Remus started, "you gonna introduce us, Anthony?"

"This is my...uhrm..." he looked lost, "This is Aziraphale." he finished quickly.

"I thought you didn't make friends," Aziraphale said slyly, peering up over the rim of his cup.

"Shut it." Crowley hissed, his face reminiscent of a cherry.

Sirius and Remus shared another glance and a chuckle.

"You two off, then?" James asked.

Aziraphale nodded. "Got to get these back to my shop in London," he replied, lifting the bag he carried.

"Fun meeting you lot," Crowley threw over his shoulder, suddenly feet away."

A pleasure!" Aziraphale shook everyone's hands before hurrying after Anthony, who hadn't halted sauntering away.

The Marauders waved after them.

"Bit of an odd pair, aren't they?" Peter remarked.

"Yeah, but a pair," Sirius replied.

James looked over. "You think so?"

"Definitely," Remus affirmed. "Let's head home."

THIS TOOK WAY TOO LONG

I'll write more if people like it.

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illiophop · 1 year

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GO and Statue Significance

Anyone noticed the statues? Three in particular, which take center stage quite literally in Seasons 1 & 2. We have:

Crowley and his "wrestling" demon and angel, which had pride of place in his flat.

Gabriel's graveyard statue portrait

Aziraphale's marble bust

Because nothing in the set seems accidental and because the statues are so lovingly and prominently displayed, I think it's worth lavishing some attention on them and think about why the characters chose them/like them/display them. This is gonna get academic, for which I'm sorry/not sorry!

Some background on what we know about each statue, with much thanks to @fuckyeahgoodomens for lots of info regarding #1 and #3 statue origins. The wrestling demon and angel is an original work, based upon the Uffizi statue "The Wrestlers." The original is dated to the age of Augustus after a Greek original, which depicted two men engaging in an Olympic sport called Pankration which is described as "an empty-hand submission sport with scarcely any rules." (Make of that what you will).

Gabriel's statue is particularly fascinating. Typical monumental-sized angel statuary with a large cross either has the cross placed above, and the angel below, carrying it, or the angel crouching while embracing the cross. In either composition, it is the cross which is the focal point. In Gabriel's statue, we see the Cross in a non-dominant position, whereas Gabriel's face is the focal point. Also important to note - in traditional angelic statuary, Gabriel is usually depicted as a herald with a horn, and not with a cross at all.

Aziraphale's statue bust original is located in the Louvre, and is called "The Victorious Athlete." It dates from around the time of Crowley's statue, perhaps a century or so later. It is also Roman and it is most likely an idealized figure, not a Greek portrait. Greek-style hair and features came back into fashion in the Roman first century AD, when the Emperor Hadrian fell in love with a Greek youth, Antinous.

My theory is that each statue represents how its owner sees themself and their purpose. In other words, an allegory that allows us to understand the events of S6 and each respective character's actions.

Crowley: Crowley's statue elevates the beauty of eternal tension between dark and light. It's a spiritual and also a very physical, fleshly beauty. More tension. There is definitely sexuality in that piece as well (a few of us have noticed, including Neil!) Each figure pushes the other to their best effort and is, in turn, shown at its best. And each figure is defined by its engagement with the other.

Gabriel: The statue is a clear portrait, unlike the other two (highly unusual for angelic statuary). The whole composition serves to allow the viewer to look, and admire, Gabriel's face. The hope of a resurrection of the dead, as represented by the cross, is completely sublimated to angel portraiture! Pretty extreme stuff for a graveyard, tbh, and reconciles nicely with Gabriel's complete disinterest with the Second Coming.

Aziraphale: His bust is meant to serve as an idealization and embodiment of qualities of the ancient athlete, summed up in the word arete, a term describing "a maximum of ability and potency for action (optimum potentiae); a man’s effectiveness and skill in goodness." Not making this up, btw, this is a widely accepted view of why such idealized statuary was created to represent ancient Olympic athletes - they were literally offerings dedicated to Gods at sanctuaries in Olympia, Delphi and elsewhere.

Such arete encompasses Aziraphale's goal and purpose, and it makes sense that the bust would be displayed so prominently in his bookshop. In S1, it dangled a medallion presented to him from Heaven in 1800. It is interesting that Aziraphale's medallion is missing from the bust in S2 - has it been stripped by Heaven after the events of S1?

Because Crowley has been stripped of his flat, we have no idea what happened to his wrestling angels statue but we no longer have it in S2 as an allegory to access and reference. Is this because he has evolved in his self-definition and that of his relationship with Aziraphale? We cannot know until we have an opportunity to see his flat again, and whether it is still in place.

We know that Gabriel uses his statue as narcissistic reinforcement and a date spot. With his escape from earth, we expect that it will retain little value to him, shed as a narcissist sheds all supply once it is of no use.

But what has happened to Aziraphale's bust in S2 E6? We see Crowley methodically put everything back together exactly as it was after the Ball/Demon incursion, but we don't see the bust go back in place. What is the significance to its absence in the Kiss scene, and the following one with Metatron? I don't know, but I wonder if this is not foreshadowing to indicate that Aziraphale's self-conception is going to be radically altered as a result of his going to heaven. He is not going to come back the same angel, and his allegory is going to have to change with him!

#good omens meta #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens set #the other kind of good omens art #good omens season two #crowley #gabriel #angel and demon wrestling statue #gabriel statue #antinous

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theonevoice · 6 months

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Hello! Thanks for responding to my post. It's nice to know I'm not the only one who was making that connection. Then I noticed that you were the one who made those astounding portraits of Crowley and Aziraphale -- I'm sure you know which ones -- and I had to reach out. Bravo! That was some amazing art.

Forgive me, I'm not accustomed to conversing with strangers anonymously online. I don't know if there is an etiquette for it. I mostly lurk. But between your art and your allusions to scholarship, I wondered what you do?

For my part, I am a sociologist. So I'm not in the field of literature or media, but I do know how to use Google Scholar, and I was, for my part, disappointed in its offerings on Terry Pratchett.

Sincerely,

Kate

Hi Kate! Thank you for reaching out, I am always happy to receive mail, so to speak! And thanks for liking the drawings (they are my newly re-discovered hobby)!

Regarding the original discussion (the so-called Great Tradition of Western novels and the shameful lack of study of Terry Pratchett novels), I agree: in the field of academic literary studies there is a very bad and unfortunately widespread prejudice against almost all fantasy and scifi literature, with minuscule exceptions (Asimov, sometimes but not always Tolkien). As of now, I am a researcher in the field of Comparative Literature and Literary Criticism and Theory (they are all grouped in the same academic "sector" where I live), and for my part, I have two strong and loud opinions on the matter (which I regularly inflict on all my colleagues):

1) Fantasy and Science Fiction literature is not "inferior", less deep, less aesthetically valid, or less interesting than other genres, and overlooking it is just a bad pompous habit shared by many scholars (there are historical reasons for it, but I find it still unacceptable)

2) If we want to properly comprehend the collective imagination of our times through its artistic manifestations, which is one of the declared objectives of literary studies, we *must* take into account those narratives that venture outside the comfort zone of realism, because that's where many crucial issues are processed

By the way, I personally believe that the second point applies to comics and anime as well (not despite their younger target, but exactly because of it).

That's it, sorry for the rant! But I am very grateful for your ask, because it gave me a chance to add Tumblr to my list of places where I have preached about this! XD

#literature

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f0ul-f13nd · 1 year

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From Ch 7 of A Social Construct

Aziraphale still doesn’t understand why Gabriel pursued him in the first place. What Gabriel hoped to achieve when he approached Aziraphale at the interdepartmental summer social last year.

There was always a get-together at the start of June, to foster community within the small cohort of faculty, staff, and graduate students who remained on campus through the summer months, when Tadfield’s population declined by nearly 70 percent as the undergraduates returned home and others left for holidays.

Aziraphale was appreciating a buttery pastry, and nursing a glass of subpar chardonnay, when the man approached him. Shockingly handsome in his dove-grey suit. Broad shouldered and white toothed and so very charming.

“Looks like you found the most decadent item on the menu,” he said with an eye on Aziraphale’s pastry. “I’m Gabriel.” He put out a large, and quite forceful, hand to shake.

“Ah - Aziraphale. Hello.” At the time, Aziraphale felt pleased, happy that Gabriel seemed to approve of his choice, his luxurious taste. It would be months before he could look back at this meeting and hear the veiled disapproval in Gabriel’s voice.

“I’m more of a veggie man, myself,” Gabriel said, taking a satisfied gulp of his iced water. “So what brings you to the party?”

Gabriel was 28 years old and a recruiter for the university, bringing new talent to Tadfield, be it sport, academic, or professional. He’d be based locally for the next six months, and was looking to settle here more permanently. And - would Aziraphale care to join him for a drink sometime?

Aziraphale was surprised - he hadn’t realised he was being chatted up - but also flattered. It wasn’t often that Aziraphale was asked out, and never by someone as attractive and successful as Gabriel. It would be ridiculous to decline.

So that was how he ended up dating Gabriel - with much that same attitude. Gabriel was handsome and accomplished and interested; it would be ridiculous to decline. The conversation and kisses were pleasant enough, and it felt wonderful to be wanted. And although Gabriel wanted perhaps a bit more - physically - than Aziraphale was yet comfortable with, Aziraphale felt they’d be able to navigate that quagmire given time and communication.

The relationship was casual at first; Aziraphale had been happy enough alone, before he ever had a taste of Gabriel’s attention, approval, or affection.

Unfortunately, Gabriel’s affection was expressed through backhanded compliments, through his well-meaning concern for Aziraphale’s health and wellness, through his encouragement for Aziraphale to evolve into a partner that Gabriel would be proud to be teamed with. Active, ambitious, sophisticated. Confident, even as Gabriel subtly undermined that confidence at every turn.

And so, over the weeks and months, Aziraphale’s attachment grew as his self-esteem and self-respect were whittled away.

The worst of it was, Aziraphale truly believed that he needed to improve himself - needed Gabriel. Which is why it stung so badly when Gabriel cheated. Cheated, with exactly the sort of man he should have chosen in the first place: Chaz.

It’s a wonder that Gabriel and Chaz didn’t last, really; they were well suited for one another.

Although sometimes Aziraphale wonders if Chaz wasn’t a means to an end. If perhaps Gabriel hadn’t planned for Aziraphale to arrive for dinner and find Chaz in Gabriel’s bed, doing all the things Aziraphale was almost ready for.

It had been the final passive-aggressive confirmation of Aziraphale’s unworthiness.

Actually - the final confirmation may have been Gabriel’s Lustr profile, which felt somehow targeted to jab at Aziraphale directly.

( Looking to have some fun after a disappointing relationship. )

( If you’re fit, flexible, and up for anything… )

Wine. Aziraphale is up for wine. https://archiveofourown.org/works/45376648

#shy aziraphale #virgin aziraphale #good omens #fanfiction #fanfic #experienced crowley

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nerdythangs · 4 years

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Day 8: Ouija

The only thing I managed to squeeze out for Racket’s 13 Days of Halloween prompt list. Y’all have been wonderful with this. Thank you, @racketghost, for keeping it spooky!!

“I think you’re overreacting,” said Crowley with a big yawn.

Aziraphale scoffed on the other line of the telephone. “I don’t believe I am! You might have been asleep, but I’ve been awake and have had plenty of time to think about it--”

“Fret about it, you mean.”

“--and not only is there a global pandemic, there are locusts by the thousands seen in Africa, both Australia and the West coast of the United States have been on fire, and don’t even get me started on the political climate--”

“You’re making the idea of going back to sleep really appealing right now, angel.”

“--there’s just no other conclusion: we’re at the end of times again. Our head offices have not contacted us since we have retired, but surely, surely they must answer my call if I were to reach out.”

Crowley poorly stifled another yawn. “And we all know how well the last call upstairs went.”

“Yes, which is why I’m requesting your presence.”

“My wot?”

“Your presence! You said we’re on our own side now, and I, to be frank, I, I don’t want to do this without you.” Aziraphale’s voice, which started off strong, trailed off to an uncharacteristic mumble.

Well, fuck. Crowley guessed he was finally getting out of bed. “Yeahyeahyeah, no, of course, yr’right,” he said while throwing the blanked off of himself and finally taking his eye mask off. “Just uhh,” he sniffed and cleared his throat, and blinked blearily into the dimly lit room, “gimme a minute and I’ll be over shortly.”

“Oh, thank you,” Aziraphale said breathlessly over the other end, full of angelic sincerity, “I’ll make sure there’s a nice strong cup of tea waiting for you.”

“Nnn,” Crowley said.

A short while later, Crowley knocked on the book shop’s door and was greeted by a beaming angel. “Crowley! It’s so good to see you,” he said, as if he wasn’t expecting him. Crowley mumbled and walked into the shop.

“So how are you doing this?” Crowley asked, flopping onto his usual spot on the sofa.

“Ah, well, it is rather simple,” Aziraphale said excitedly. He picked up the edge of the ornate rug in the center of the shop and dragged it out of the way to reveal--

“An Ouija board?” Crowley took off his sunglasses to get a better look.

Aziraphale looked at the Ouija board, perfectly drawn into the floorboards of his shop, complete with an illustrated sun and moon. His face was passively blank and he was perfectly still until he began to blink and shake his head repeatedly, turned around on his heel, and walked straight to his ancient telephone.

With the angel’s back turned, Crowley could finally crack a smile, and his shoulders shook in silent laughter. He got up from the sofa and sauntered over to the Ouija board. He scuffed it with the toe of his boot to check that it was a permanent fixture.

“Yes, hello, Adam. This is Aziraphale, the, um, angel from the air base. Yes, that’s the one.”

In a fit of demonic childishness, Crowley hopped over to the A, leapt to the R, and then jumped over to the E.

“I’m doing fine,” Aziraphale said briskly, “Listen, there’s a reason for my call. I know you did your best when setting the world right after the Apocalypse, and I truly couldn’t be more grateful, but there seems to have been a mix up in my heavenly communication sigil that I usually kept on the floor of my bookshop. It ah,” he turned to watch Crowley skip to the Y, the O, and then the U, “it has turned into an Ouija board.”

“There… God…” Crowley mumbled to himself with a slight smirk as he stepped on each letter.

“Of course you’re not a celestial being, but I rather thought--”

“It’s… Me…”

“I don’t believe that Hasboro has the ability to call the Metatron.” Aziraphale began to sound a little tetchy.

“... M-A-R-G-A-R-E-T…” Crowley stomped both feet onto the T and beamed up at Aziraphale with a shiteating grin.

“Of course, dear boy. No, I understand. Thank you. Goodbye.” Aziraphale hung up the phone with a sigh.

Suddenly Crowley began to glow an unearthly glow and his body straightened to be perfectly rigid.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, sounding alarmed.

Slowly, Crowley walked to the Y with a forced stiffness and blank look on his face, while darting wild eyes to Aziraphale. He then walked to the O, then to U, and the R.”

Aziraphale scrambled to get a paper and pen, writing down every letter Crowley stepped on. “N-A-M-E-I-S-N-O-T-M-A-R-G-A-R-E-T-A-N-D-T-H-I-S-I-S-N-O-T-T-H-E-E-N-D-O-F-T-I-M-E-S”

Crowley’s possessed corporation then walked to the “Goodbye” where he collapsed into a pile on the floor, gasping.

He turned to Aziraphale. “What the FUCK was that?” He shouted semi-hysterically, with his gasps sounding more like panting with each breath.

“Your name is not Margaret and this is not the end of times.” Aziraphale read aloud from the notepad and looked over to Crowley. “Well, I suppose I got my answer.”

Crowley pushed himself up to a seated position and stared a thousand yard stare at the Ouija board on the floor.

They both stayed silent for a moment.

“D’you got any Scotch? I feel like I deserve Scotch after that.”

Aziraphale’s face brightened. “Oh yes! I’ve got a bottle of Macallan that I picked up a few years back that hasn’t been opened yet.”

‘A few years back’ probably meant at least 20 years to Aziraphale, so Crowley picked himself up off the ground and dusted his pants. “Excellent, I want four fingers’ worth to start.”

“Of course, my dear.” Aziraphale responded, puttering towards the back end of the shop. “And while you’re here,” he called from the back, “I’ll have to update you with everything that’s been going on. Did you know that they finally rediscovered that some books were bound in human leather? If they were to just ask me I would have told them about the volumes in my possession! Not that I’d show anyone of course, but I was there when they initially experimented with the technique, you know.”

Crowley shook his head as Aziraphale nattered on, letting a soft smile grace his face. This year might have gone to shit, but some things were worth waking up for.

---

Books bound in human leather: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/10/20/books/review/dark-archives-megan-rosenbloom.html

#I saw that book bound by the Philly physician in the Mutter Museum once #I like to think maybe Aziraphale popped over to the states around that time #bored yanno cuz Crowley was snoozing #and he happened to bump into that doctor #got talking to him about book binding #dr. creepy mentions human leather #Aziraphale takes an 'academic interest' in it #This is honestly the spookiest part about this whole fic #and it ain't even in it #anyway #racket's 13 days of halloween #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #fanfic #ficlet #my writing #my post

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a-nice-and-interpretive-fanzine · 3 years

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[ID: A cream-colored banner that says "A Nice and Interpretive Fanzine: essays and art about the meanings we've found in Good Omens." There is a photo of a book page with a key on it behind the banner text. The photo source is rosy_photo on Pixabay. /end ID]

A Nice and Interpretive Fanzine: Information Masterpost

Welcome!

This is a zine for those of us who love the subtle, complex work that is Good Omens, and who’ve enjoyed the thoughtfulness of the fandom as people interpret how the many moving pieces of the story come together, creating a slightly different meaning for each of us.

To put it simply, it’s a book full of the fandom’s own analysis and commentary about the Good Omens TV show, enhanced with illustrations from our brilliant artists.

This zine is analytical in the sense that all the writers are expressing their own nonfiction thoughts and feelings about the show, rather than writing fanfic, but it is not meant to be heavily academic. Anybody who likes to pick apart the series and discuss it should be able to enjoy it.

The zine will contain essays by fans who are passionate about analyzing and interpreting different parts of Good Omens - the characters, the plot, the writing techniques for the book and script, the cinematography of the TV show, the popular content of the fandom itself. Accompanying these essays will be black and white illustrations from our artists.

How are you organizing this process?

May 1-May 15: Everyone submits their application to do writing or art through a Google form. Behind the scenes, I’ll be setting up a separate email and Discord.

May 16-20: Applicants will be screened during this time.

May 20: I’ll email everyone to let them know the outcomes of their applications. The final participants will get a link to the Discord server for the zine (totally optional, of course).

May 21: If there’s any clarification or solidifying of ideas that needs to happen, I’ll contact you and discuss with you by this point. This is also when artists will be matched up with essays.

May 22 to August 14: This will be a period of just working on our essays and art. The Discord chat and Tumblr will be there for support and for exchanging ideas!

August 15: Participants need to email their full works to the zine’s email address by this date. No special formatting is needed; I’ll do that in InDesign.

August 15 to August 31: I’ll be putting the zine together in InDesign.

September 1: Preorders will open.

September 30: Preorders will close.

October 1: The zine order will be placed!

October 15: Assuming all goes well with printing and shipping, the zines will be shipped out in waves starting on this date. If the printing or shipping from the manufacturer is delayed, then shipping will just start ASAP.

Writer Application HERE Artist Application HERE Asked and Answered Questions on Tumblr The Fanzine's Page on Twitter

Read below for more detailed information about the zine in a Q and A format!

What are the specifications for the zine contributions?

For writers, I’m starting with 3k words or fewer per essay (approximately 10 pages at the size of this book). This depends heavily on how many participants we actually get, so it may change!

For artists, I’d be looking at black and white works, 300 DPI, 5.5 x 8.5 inches or smaller. If your art is supposed to fill up the entire page (i.e. no white space), please make it a total of 5.75 x 8.75 inches with nothing too important around the edges to account for bleed during the printing process.

Can I submit an essay to this zine if I’ve already posted it on Tumblr?

Not as you’ve already posted it. We don’t want to just copy/paste the exact thing that hundreds or perhaps even thousands of people have already read.

However, it IS fine and maybe even a good idea to take the same thought from your post and refine it, preserving your same thesis. For example, a lot of Tumblr posts are just us fans jotting down 5 or 6 paragraphs of random thoughts at 2 AM, but some of them are really cool thoughts! Expanding them and turning them into a bona-fide Essay would make those posts into excellent zine chapters. And you can copy small pieces of your own language as long as the whole thing isn’t just pasted word-for-word.

How long do essays have to be? Is there a limit?

With the number of writers we have, I've calculated that each person should ideally keep their essay to about 6000 words. There is wiggle room.

There’s no real minimum for your contribution; some analytical ideas are really good but can be expressed concisely, so it’s okay if your essays only come out to a few pages typed. For reference, with our book size, a page is about 300 words.

What happens if the zine sells a lot and you end up not only breaking even, but turning a profit?

It’ll go to charity. While I’ll ask the participants what they want to do for certain if we do make enough money, my suggestion will be donating it to Alzheimer’s Research UK in honor of Sir Terry Pratchett.

I’m not really comfortable calling this a “charity zine” up front since I simply don’t know if it will raise a significant amount. For the most part, I just want the thing to physically exist, which means breaking even, and don’t want to make it more expensive for buyers than it needs to be to afford the printing costs.

What kinds of essays are you talking about? What could be included?

In short, any analytical thoughts about the Good Omens TV show - and possibly even the fandom as it interacts with the show - are possible inclusions for the zine.

To expand a bit, think about the meta posts you see floating around Tumblr. Often these involve analyzing characters, or picking up on patterns in the plot. Sometimes fans use their own background knowledge to write posts about the significance of certain costume choices or the way music plays into each individual scene. Some posts examine the ways the series approaches gender, while others might discuss ways that the characters present as neurodivergent. That’s how diverse the pool of possibilities is for subjects in this zine.

How does art come into this?

Images will be black and white, to match the bookish mood of the project overall. Images can range in size from a half page to a full page.

I’m planning to talk to the artists and authors and loosely pair artists with essays that appeal to their personal interests.

I know how to illustrate a story, but how do I illustrate an essay?

There are infinite answers to this! I’ve seen some beautiful symbolic artwork in the fandom already (e.g. a number of takes on Aziraphale munching on an apple with Crowley in snake form curving around him), and there are tons of symbolic motifs to draw from, but these are not the only options. An artist illustrating an essay about cinematography, for example, could draw a well-known scene from an alternative angle. An essay about Heaven as a capitalist corporation could be illustrated with a cartoon of Gabriel giving some sort of excruciating PowerPoint presentation. A character analysis could be accompanied by a simple portrait. And on and on. I’m not interested in limiting the possibilities by trying to make a list, but just know that there are many and you don’t have to make it complicated if you don’t want to.

If the writers can reuse their essay ideas, can artists reuse their drawings?

Similarly to the writers, if you already have an interpretive drawing that you’re in love with, artists can use the same ideas and the same fundamental composition that is present in their own existing work. However, it has to be redone in some significant way. Whether it’s taking something you drew in 2019 and redrawing it using an updated style, taking a sketch and turning it into a lined and shaded piece, or redoing a full-color drawing so it presents more strikingly in black and white, it shouldn’t be identical to the thing you’ve already posted.

So how are you choosing participants here?

It’ll be based on what people are interested in writing about (or illustrating). I’ll be looking for people who are passionate about their essays, but I’ll also be looking for variety. It all depends on what people want to offer, so I won’t know for sure what it will look like put together until everyone’s application is in.

For artists, I’ll be trying to figure out whose style looks like it would adapt well to illustrations in black and white, and also who demonstrates an interest in the same subjects as the writers.

If we don’t get a lot of applicants, I’d love to simply include everyone, but I can’t commit to that without knowing for sure how many people are involved.

Do I have to use a formal writing style to participate?

No. You should use a style that makes your thoughts and ideas as clear as possible, but as long as it’s understandable, you can also get a little artistic with it. You can “write like you speak,” though perhaps in a more organized way. You definitely don’t need to worry about stylistic rules like not using the first person. This is not academia.

Is this zine going to center only on Crowley and Aziraphale?

That remains to be seen! It depends on what ideas show up in the applications. There will be a lot of the ineffable partners for sure, but whether the whole zine will center on them or whether there’s plentiful stuff about other characters will depend on what the participants suggest.

Do we have to agree with all your personal interpretations of Good Omens to be in the zine?

No! In fact, I’m assuming that a number of essays will contradict each other, too, and that’s perfectly okay. The zine is a sampler of fan interpretations meant to inspire, not instruct. It’s not “Here’s a fan-made guide on how to understand this TV show,” it’s “Look at all these moving parts and how many meanings we can find in them. What does it mean to you?”

However, there are some basic rules and assumptions by which I’m working here.

I don’t personally have the energy to include essays that are highly critical (“negative”) in this zine. It’s analytical but also meant to be fun.

I’m pretty focused on the TV adaptation. This isn’t “no book analysis allowed” but just that the essays will end up being weighted toward subjects that apply to either the TV show or both the book and the show.

Each writer should focus on making their own points over disproving other fan interpretations. If you’re writing in an expository style, it’s normal for the essay to contain rebuttals to opposing ideas, but these should be minor supporting points, not the heart and soul of your essay. For reference, I’d say the majority of meta I see floating around on tumblr would follow this rule just fine.

Essay ideas that seem to contain bigoted or exclusionary sentiments will not be accepted (no TERFy stuff, for example).

What kinds of editing will go into the zine? Are you going to argue with us about the contents of our writing?

While I might ask you to elaborate on certain points in your writing or clarify your thoughts about your subject, I’m absolutely not here to ask you to change the thesis, opinions, or headcanons on which your writing is based. If I really have a problem with your initial idea, I’ll tell you that up front and politely decline the contribution.

While formatting the zine, I’ll make minor edits if I think I see a typo or misspelling, something small and obviously unintentional. As with any other zine, your content won’t be changed without consulting you.

Is this a SFW zine?

Yes. If people want to discuss sexuality in a theoretical way, like erotic subtext, that would be allowed. There are canon references like Newt and Anathema’s moment under the bed that might come up, too. But there will be nothing explicit, and since these are essays instead of stories, there will be no “action” going on between characters. Let’s just say sex isn’t a forbidden topic, but it will be like discussing it in English class.

As for other topics that could make the zine NSFW, like gore or extreme language, I don’t think they will be an issue. Some dark topics, like abuse by Heaven and Hell, may be discussed, but they will be warned for, and these are not stories, so you aren’t going to see violent actions playing out.

Will there be any “extras” like charms or stickers?

I’m not sure yet. I’m most inclined to keep it simple, because of the nature of the zine, but would be open to including some bonus items if there’s an artist who’s really passionate about it.

With that said, I am pretty committed to making a hardcover edition of the book available, in addition to the standard softcover version.

You’re doing this with only one mod?!

Yes. I personally find it easiest. While I’ve worked on multi-mod projects in other domains and adore all of my co-mods, it’s a little bit different when it’s a project with this many moving pieces that includes real-life components like printing and shipping. Though there are a lot of individual things to be done, I am experienced with all of them, so it’s less overwhelming to just take on the whole project. That way, I know exactly what needs to be done and when, and there are no issues with assigning tasks.

What qualifies you to run this zine?

The résumé answer: in fandom, I successfully solo-modded a large not-for-profit zine in the past, the @soulmakazine2018, and while I can’t speak for the whole fandom, it definitely seemed to be well-received. <3 In real life, I’m a case manager and this involves coordinating and communicating with a lot of different people including my 100-person caseload, budgeting services, and filling out all kinds of paperwork on the fly, all skills that can be imported into zine work.

The practical answer: well, I’m the one who decided to start this project, so if you like the sound of it, you're stuck with me. I say with encouragement and enthusiasm that if you’d like to do a different take on a commentary zine, you should absolutely do it.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #fanzine #good omens zine

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marta-bee · 3 years

Text

I was struck by this GO post where a reader likened Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s questioning the Plan as being very Jewish. That’s definitely true of Crowley, though Aziraphale takes much longer to get on board with the whole questioning lark. What’s got me thinking. though. is the idea that this questioning is particularly Jewish.

It’s not like I can’t see where this comes from. It’s all over what Christians call the Old Testament; Abraham and God negotiating over how many righteous men Sodom and Gomorrah have to sport before God will spare it, for instance. Alan Dershowitz actually has a really interesting book looking at how the idea of justice developed across the Genesis stories, and yes, it’s one of constant negotiation and interrogation. And if you just compared those stories to what Christians call the New Testament... yeah. Night and day.

The thing is, I’ve known lots of Christians who were open to big questions, and a lot of Jews who weren’t. I suspect that’s true of most religions, or non-religious movements built on belief and community (think political activist groups, for instance). My experience: in any large group there will be some people comfortable with questions and others who demand certainty and safety. The more ingrained that group gets in the power structures, the more risk those questions carry with them, and the more motivation they’ve got to hold on to the status quo. But it’s a continuum, and you’re still going to have the question-seekers in even the most ingrained, majority-power groups. They’re less obvious, and maybe it’s fair to say the group isn’t as defined by them, but they’re there.

It probably makes sense that the Jews I knew who were least open to questioning things were living in areas where there was a real Jewish community with a definite sense of in-power; certain areas of Brooklyn, for instance. And the Christians I knew most open to questions were academic professors or just random Sunday School teachers I’ve known. Not people with any real role in the institution of the church, whatever church it was, or who depended on the social power of being thought of as a “good Christian.” I suspect that dynamic’s true for a lot of groups, though. It’s easier to pull at the leash when your well being doesn’t depend on being allowed to stay in the yard.

At the same time, though.... there really is a strong flavor of questioning being what defines modern Judaism, isn’t there? I wonder if that makes it easier for more Jews to do that questioning, and maybe with Christians and other groups, you have to be more of a renegade or at least an outlier to opt for that route. Maybe I just don’t like the idea of that half of my faith-upbringing being so closed to folks like me. I’m hardly disinterested here. :-)

#religion #judaism #christianity #good omens #but only tangentially #marta blathers

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meli-productions · 4 years

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Biblically Known

Despite the name, there is no smut...though things do get heated. Day Four of #ineffablehusbandsauweek for @ineffablehusbandsweek

As always, it can be read on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26620054

The soft clicking of heels from behind brought Aziraphale’s attention away from the exhibit and towards the intruder. At the sight of the approaching woman, a smile split his face.

“Antoniette! How lovely to see you again,” he said, meeting her in the middle of the room. “What brings you around this time? Biblical or modern?”

The woman, tall and looming over him with her stilettos, smiled and pulled off her glasses, “Um, I think that this time it’s Biblical - something about a garden?”

Aziraphale hesitated, taking a moment to study the woman’s gold eyes that shifted under his scrutiny, then his faltered smile returned to full power, “Of course, darling. Was it the Garden of Eden or the Hanging Gardens?”

She snapped, “That’s the one. Hanging Gardens, sounds like fun - I have a garden too so it seemed like a good report to do.”

“Then come along,” said Aziraphale, holding out his arm for her to take. “I have just the resources you need.”

The two spoke amicably as they wandered the halls of the museum - a sight to behold: the plump curator that dressed like a character off The Mummy movies and the femme fatale of a Bond film. They had met one evening when Antoniette Crowley had arrived at the museum with a notebook in hand and bumped into the curator - Aziraphale Fell - in a very literal sense.

Aziraphale had fussed over the woman, making sure she was okay before asking if there was anything she needed - that he would love to help her as the new curator of the museum. And for her part, Antoniette had blinked up at him for a few minutes, blushed, and asked if he knew anything about the Dead Sea Scrolls.

When Aziraphale beamed and dragged her down the halls, a new friendship was struck - and a promise of continuing friendship stemmed from their conversation and jaunt through history. So when he sees Antoniette in the museum, Aziraphale knows that he’s in for a good time and a wonderful conversation about history.

“So these Hanging Gardens - they were destroyed, too, huh?” asked Antoniette, looking at the mock up that had been prepared in its little corner of the museum. “Just like the tower, just like Eden itself.”

“Unfortunately,” Aziraphale responded with a sigh. “Pity. One of the wonders they said. It’s a shame to lose something so vivid. Was there anything specific you needed to know about it?”

Antoniette perched her elbow on Aziraphale’s shoulder, “Anything you’ve got for me, angel. I’ll pick and choose the information.”

With the go-ahead of a full professorial lecture, Aziraphale launched into a story head tilted up towards the honey-gold eyes that were watching him with rapt attention.

“How’d the lie go today?”

Antoniette looked down and met the smirk of her partner, Beatrice, with a sharp smile of her own.

“It went perfectly fine, thanks for asking. He doesn’t suspect a thing and I got to hear him mourn the Hanging Gardens of Babylon for almost an hour…we had lunch afterwards.”

Beatrice snickered, “Then got off on those little sounds of his?”

“Shut it, Bea.”

But they continued, “He’s gonna find out one of these days - gonna slip or he’s gonna say something historically inaccurate and you won’t be able to help yourself. One way or another, Toni, your anthropologist smartass will show.”

She just shook her head, curls flying wild, “Absolutely not. He’s too smart to say something wrong. Besides, I’m not hurting anyone. I just - I just want to get to know him and if he knew who I really was - ”

“He’d fall harder for you?” asked Bea, eyebrow raised questioningly.

“No, he’d get weird - weird academic boner like that hothead Lucius,” said Antoniette. “I don’t want this to end. And I’ll tell him the truth.”

Bea laughed again, “After you two get married? Or when the director finally spots you and calls your bluff - that you’ve been acting like an ignoramus around your own fucking exhibit.”

Antoniette’s face turned as red as her hair, “We have very insightful conversations, Bea. I don’t act like I’m stupid - just not like Professor Crowley, that’s for sure.”

A roll of bright blue eyes met her own, “Whatever, Toni. But if you don’t tell him soon, it’s gonna come out somehow. You’ll see.”

She sighed, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

A steaming mug of tea thumped down at Aziraphale’s side bringing his head up towards the hand attached to the handle.

“Ana,” he said, slipping off the glasses hanging on the edge of his nose. “Thank you, dear. It’s just what I needed.”

“What you needed was a break from that book. I know your job is to appraise and reconstruct, but you’ve been on that for three hours.”

“Has it really been that long?”

Ana - Anathema - huffed, “Yes, you workaholic. Honestly, when Toni swings by those are the best days because it gets you away from those damned books.”

He tisked, “There’s no need to offend them - they’ve done nothing wrong. And yes, I do agree - it is a delight when Antoniette is around.”

Aziraphale took a sip and noticed the red-lipped smirk that his youngest coworker wore from over the rim of the mug. He raised an eyebrow in question which set her off in giggles.

“Are you ever gonna tell her that you know she’s acting dumb?”

Another tisk, “She’s not acting dumb, Anathema. Her conversations are very insightful, it’s just that she’s not sharing just how smart she is with me. And no. That’s for her to tell me when the time is right. After all, there must be a reason.”

Anathema scoffed, “Yeah, the reason is that she likes you and thinks that if you can’t help her you won’t be interested in being around her. You know what would encourage her to tell the truth,” she paused for him to question her, “ask her out on a date. An actual date, not those ‘well, since we’re at it we might as well have lunch’ dates. Ask her to dinner, buy her expensive wine, take her home and - ”

“Anathema,” said Aziraphale, blush dusting his cheeks. “Antoniette is a lady, I will not do anything untoward.”

She smirked, “Never said to do anything untoward. And besides, if anyone’s gonna make a move like that it’s gonna be her - not you. She is sin incarnate, isn’t she?”

He sighed, and rubbed his temples when she started laughing, “I regret ever telling you that. Now, are you going to join me for tea or just laugh at my misfortune? Come, tell me about your latest project.”

Wednesday night was always a quiet one at the museum - just a few stragglers that would lazily wander up and down the exhibits and when Aziraphale found himself more often than not alone in the ancient artifacts room.

And usually that’s where Antoniette would find him.

This time, though, she was not in her tight pencil skirt and stilettos, but in baggy sweats that disguised her - even her sunglasses were a cheaper pair she’d picked up from a tourist booth on the way in and yet he still recognised her.

“My dearest, are you alright?” he asked, reaching out for her then stopping a breath away from her elbow. “Is there anything you need?”

She was quiet for a moment, and he wished she would fee; comfortable taking off her glasses, but they remained on, “Just - a distraction, angel. Anything you’ve got.”

Aziraphale frowned at the deadened tone, but he gave her a little smile nonetheless, “I think I’ve got just the thing,” he held his arm out, “It’s okay if you don’t want to - ”

Antoniette grabbed onto it like it was a lifeline, “Let’s see what you have, love.”

He kept a quiet drone about the latest visitors to the museum and the field trip of primary grade students that ran amok in the dinosaur exhibit and though she laughed at the right moment and agreed when she needed to, Aziraphale could tell that she was still distracted.

“Here we go, dearest,” he said and sat her at his desk. “My newest acquisition: the ‘Bugger Alle’ Bible.”

She gave a little gasp and reached out with long fingers before folding her fingers and glancing up at him, “Gloves?”

With a smile, he handed over his pair and though he knew they’d be too short, they would be enough for her to touch the book. Antoniette stroked the spine with a delicate touch and cracked it open with the care of a mother to her child, Aziraphale shivering at her gentleness.

“This is in top condition,” she said, breathless. “Did you do the restoration?”

“One of my specialties,” answered Aziraphale, leaning in close and using her fingers to follow the stitching. “Took a few hours - three if my coworker is to be believed - but it’s almost in perfect condition to be displayed.”

Antoniette looked up at him again, glasses slipped down enough for her gold eyes to be seen, “Amazing. This is - stunning work. Delicate - strong - I- ”

Aziraphale cupped her face in his hand, “You don’t have to tell me anything, but I have a feeling that you haven’t eaten - I can order some takeout?”

She leaned into the heat now on her cheek, lips brushing his thumb, “Sounds like a plan - Thai?”

“Whatever you want, dear,” he answered, breathless.

A couple of hours later the two of them had made their way out of the chair and sat on the floor of Aziraphale’s office, leaning against his desk as they passed a bottle of wine between them.

“And ‘s not fair,” said Antoniette, pouting. “That just ‘cus he’s a man he gets my project - top n’m. ‘S like I d’nt even exist.”

“Absolutely,” Aziraphale agreed, “Y’re smart and w’rkd hard f’r that - that project - wanker sh’dnt get an’thin.”

Antoniette shot him a wine-drowsy smile, “Y’re not a wanker though - y’re an - an angel. Pretty, s’ft, smart, gorgeous angel. B’t you d’nt want me - y’like books more.”

He huffed and wobbled closer, hand brushing her cheeks, “My books d’nt look like you, th’r not smart and beautif’l and sweet n’ let me talk th’r ear off. Not like you, Antoniette. My dear, m’ so glad you came into my life - best day ‘f m’ life.”

A whimper escaped wine-red lips as Antoniette turned to his hand, eyes closed, and whispered, “I really want to kiss you r’now.”

Aziraphale chuckled using his finger to sweep over her lips, “Me too, but now while we’re drunk.”

Another whimper from Antoniette as he continued his ministrations down to her chin and then to her throat, the warm press of his calloused thumb bringing goosebumps on her skin. Then he pulled away and she met his half-lidded eyes. They both felt a little more sober, a little more sharper.

“If you want - we can have dinner tomorrow - real dinner,” he said. “And we’ll see how it goes.”

She pouted once again, but nodded, “‘S a date.”

Anathema fussed over Aziraphale, fixing his bowtie and coat and running her fingers through his hair before he pulled her hands away and held them tight against his chest.

“Anathema, dear,” he said, eyes crinkled in mirth. “It’ll be fine. I’ve dressed like this every time we’ve been together - mess or not, she doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t a date, Zira,” she said, almost bouncing with joy. “I’m so proud of you, viejito, you’ve got a date with a hot, smart woman and you did that all on your own. Get your woman, mi vida.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but the smile did not waver, “Thank you, Ana, I guess you can say I’m finally an adult.”

A voice clearing behind them made them turn around and were greeted by the sight of a gorgeous, black dress clad Antoniette, red curls pinned to the side. Her smile was tight as her eyes flickered from Anathema to Aziraphale.

“Antoniette, darling,” Aziraphale said, his smile spreading. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, “Of course.”

Anathema pulled out of his grip, “Nice to finally meet you, Antoniette. I’m Anathema, co-worker and babysitter of this old man here.”

The two women shook hands, Antoniette’s smile still tight against her cheeks, before Aziraphale held out his arm for her to take. They bid Anathema their goodbyes and headed out.

“She seems nice,” said Antoniette, fingers tapping against the scratchy fabric of his coat. “Young. Smart.”

“And annoying as nothing else,” Aziraphale said, soothing her fingers with his free hand. “Her Americanisms can be hard to deal with - and her boyfriend has his own hands full with her.”

Antoniette’s fingers stopped as his hand wrapped around them, “Oh. She’s - she’s- ”

“An archeologist, and occultist if you can believe,” he said. “And no one for you to worry about, trust me dearest, you outshine everyone I’ve ever met before.”

She blushed and squeezed his arm, “And you truly are an angel.”

He chuckled in return, “I certainly hope not for long.”

Dinner was a slow-moving affair, Aziraphale savoring every bite and Antoniette enjoying every sound he made, tugging the hem of her dress down her dress as she grew hotter. After dessert and coffee - tea for the curator - Aziraphale offered to move the night to his flat and Antoniette took the offer with an almost embarrassing quickness.

“It’s not much,” he said, opening the door to his flat and ushering her in.

Books were scattered around, stacked in every corner and packed into bookshelves. There was a cozy messiness about the room that was perfect for him and she smiled at him.

“It’s wonderful, perfect for you,” said Antoniette, curling into the couch. “And the books make so much sense.”

Aziraphale blushed and scratched his neck, “Would you like some wine? I have a nice Burgundy that I’ve been dying to share with the right person.”

“And would that mean me?”

“I think it is.”

“Then pop it open and come join me.”

When he returned with the bottle and glasses, he found Antoniette, glasses off and flipping through the pages of a book. She looked up at him with wide eyes as he handed her a glass and she refused it.

“What’s wrong?”

She closed the book and handed it over, “Interesting choice - have you - did you - ”

The book was a detailed introspection on the Garden of Eden, a book written by Antoniette Crowley, and his eyes crinkled with mirth, “I suspected. I was just honored that you think that I was worth talking to and - you were just as beautiful as you were smart.”

Tossing the book to a side, Antoniette lunged towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and licking her way into her mouth as he returned the kiss she laid on him. His hands came around her and hoisted her closer, and she moaned against him.

When they pulled apart for air, she laughed as she took in his lipstick covered mouth and he joined her soon after.

“Is it too soon to say that I love you?” she asked, gripping his hair as he began pressing kisses along her neck.

He hummed against her throat, “Only if it’s too soon for me to say that I love you as well.”

Antoniette gave a tug, “I think you brought that wine out too soon,” another moan, “I think I found something tastier.”

“The wine’s waited this long, it can wait longer. Let us indulge in this dessert before turning to the drink.”

She let herself be settled onto his lap as he took a seat, “Sounds tasty.”

#ineffablehusbandsauweek #ineffable husbands au week #Ineffable Husbands #aziraphale #crowley #crowley x aziraphale #female crowley #museum au #curator aziraphale #anthropologist crowley #crowley's name is antoniette #anathema device #beelzebub #human au #good omens #gomens #good omens fanfiction #gomens fanfiction

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ineffably-good · 4 years

Text

Snake Husbandry, 1/2 (GO Fic)

Summary: Aziraphale has some secret books he hides from Crowley about understanding his favorite snake. This story explores a few myths and realities about snake behavior.

Part of my Serpent and the Seagull series.

Complete! Read the whole thing on AO3!

______________________________

Chapter 1

One thing Aziraphale had learned in the first year of marriage was that Crowley always curious about what he was reading. It was nice, most of the time, having his partner show a steady interest in what he was thinking about and looking at and doing. But every once in a while, he just wanted to look at a book that he didn’t feel like sharing – something more private. He kept these books in the deepest drawer of his desk, behind a pile of folders.

The hidden books generally fell into one of three categories: romance novels, which he was secretly addicted to and which Crowley would tease him mercilessly about; books about things Crowley considered dangerous, such as spells that could injure one or the other of them but which he nonetheless felt it his duty to be somewhat informed about; and a few books that Aziraphale had acquired very early in their relationship, shortly after he’d first brought Frederick home. He had three – a slim volume on basic snake care that he’d used rather extensively at the beginning to ensure his new companion was healthy and happy, a rather fascinating and more academic book about different types of snakes and their characteristics, and one thick volume which would daunt any but the most passionate of snake enthusiasts – crammed full of tiny type and hand drawn illustrations and tissue-thin pages and titled “The Enthusiast’s Handbook of Snake Husbandry and Care.”

The third one was the one he most often reached for. Its academic and research-heavy focus appealed to him, but best of all it went on and on about snake lore – the myths and legends that had developed around snakes over the centuries – and took its time in proving or disproving them one by one. It spent a good deal of time on snake psychology and mating habits, and so help him, Aziraphale couldn’t help but draw parallels now and then not only between the book and Frederick, but between it and his spouse. Crowley was, after all, part snake. Sometimes, and especially in the winter, he was all snake, and for longer periods of time than one might expect.

Whenever he wanted to read it, he first made sure that Crowley was out and occupied for a few hours. Then he usually arranged it so that Frederick was curled up around his neck or shoulders. Best to have a plausible reason he was reading about snake husbandry if Crowley showed up unexpectedly and inquired.

But in all honestly, the truth was that he was reading and ruminating about both of the snakes in his life.

What could possibly be the harm?

Myth: Snakes will attack you if confronted.

Fact: Most snakes are not likely to attack unless they truly have no other option. When cornered, a snake will panic and do just about anything to flee the situation before resorting to brute force.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called from the kitchen.

Crowley looked up from his spot on the couch. “What?”

“Come in here please?”

Oh shit, he thought, the angel sounded snippy. Snippy was never good. What had he done or forgotten to do?

“I’m comfy,” he whined, just to buy time. If he was extremely lucky, it would work and the angel would give up and take care of whatever it was himself.

“I really must insist!” the angel said.

Definitely an increase in snippiness there. Snippitude? Was that a word, Crowley thought? It should be. No one could be as snippitudinous as his angel.

He heaved himself up with a sigh and sauntered his way into the kitchen. The angel was standing with portions of the coffee maker in his hand, looking prissy.

“We’ve talked about this, Crowley,” he said, shaking the basket at him. “You have to empty the grounds out of it at least once in a while! Look at this buildup, it’s obviously been sitting there dirty for most of the week!”

Crowley sighed. “Oh cmon, angel, we’re ethereal beings! We don’t have to clean things the hard way! You just –” he snapped a finger and the basket was suddenly magically clean – “take care of it the quick way.”

Aziraphale frowned. “That is not the point! We need to talk about household chores again, Crowley. Again! You’re going to have a seat at the table and we’re going to go over the chart of things that need to be done for the eleventh time and try to –”

“Oh, I’d love to angel, really!” Crowley said over his shoulder as he made a break for it as quickly as he could without literally running. “But I’ve got a client meeting – important, very important, thwarting to be done, freelance job – you know how it is –”

“Crowley, come back here!” Aziraphale called after him, sounding exasperated.

“Can’t right now!” Crowley shouted, fingers closing around the doorknob in triumph. “Back later and we can, uh, do that thing. The talking thing. Bye!”

He made straight for the park, where he found a bench in an area he knew Aziraphale rarely visited, and set about having a long nap in the sun.

Myth: Snakes strike without warning.

Fact: Snakes will warn you before they strike – if they can sense you, that is.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Crowley warned, as Aziraphale leaned over to pick up Frederick out of the basket where he was noodled up into a tight ball.

Aziraphale straightened up. “Whyever not?”

“Because he’s in a mood.”

Aziraphale tutted. “He’s not in a mood, he’s a lovely little snake, aren’t you Frederick?” he asked, peering into the basket.

Frederick reared up his head and spat at the fuzzy angel, giving his best, loudest warning. He truly didn’t feel like biting the angel today, not unless he had no other choice.

Aziraphale pulled back, then looked up at Crowley, who made no effort whatsoever to not have a “told you so” look on his face. “What happened?”

“He had a little fight with his intended breakfast,” Crowley said.

“Which was?”

“Greckle,” Crowley said.

“All right, please explain.”

“There was a greckle hopping around on the window by your desk, and Freddie here somehow got himself up onto the sill, and tried to eat him, not realizing there was glass in between them.”

Aziraphale winced. “Did he hurt himself?”

“Hurt his pride, maybe,” Crowley said. “The stupid bird mocked him mercilessly once he saw him face plant on the window. You know how greckles are. Only thing worse than a greckle is a starling.”

Aziraphale hrmed in agreement. He couldn’t put his finger quite on why, but even he knew that starlings were utter bastards.

TELL HIM TO STAY AWAY! Frederick shrieked, his voice somewhat muffled by the fact that his head was buried beneath several loops of his body. I’M FEELING VERY BITEY!

“He says to stay away, he’s feeling bitey,” Crowley dutifully translated.

Aziraphale sat down and picked up his teacup. “Well,” he said pleasantly, “nice of him to warn me off, I suppose. Better than just sinking his teeth into my thumb. He’s a good snake, regardless of what any bird might have said.”

“Shh, angel, he’ll hear you,” Crowley said. “And then he’ll just be unbearable.”

TOO LATE! Came the muffled cry from the basket.

Crowley rolled his eyes.

Myth: snakes have excellent eyesight and use it to see movement in their intended prey.

Fact: Snakes don’t always see as clearly as you might think.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said one day, a tone of inquiry in his voice.

Crowley looked up from his rather fascinating game of candy crush. “Yes?”

“I read in an article the other day that snakes can only see dichromatically – just two colors, blue and green,” Aziraphale said. “Is that true?”

“I dunno,” Crowley said. “Do you want me to ask him?”

“Ask who?”

“Frederick, you pillock,” Crowley said. “I’ve never specifically talked to him about what he sees. Could be interesting to find out.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, shifting guiltily in his chair, and then lighting up with false bravado. “Why yes, that’s exactly what I meant. Yes, indeed, let’s do that. Spirit of scientific inquiry and all that!”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “You meant me, didn’t you?”

“What?” Aziraphale demurred. “Heavens no. I certainly did not.”

“You did,” Crowley drawled. “Just a big ol’ serpent to you, aren’t I?”

Aziraphale looked at him pointedly. “Did you or did you not just spend two weeks mostly in snake form because it got below freezing outside?”

Crowley knew when it was time to change tactics. “Don’t you think that if I could only see the colors blue and green you would have heard about it sometime in the last six THOUSAND years?”

“Well I don’t know, do I?” Aziraphale protested. “Your eyes are very special, and it’s not like we sit around and – and paint! And I nearly ALWAYS have a blue shirt on. And the Bentley is black and the only real color in your old apartment came from the green of the plants! It seemed plausible that maybe I might have missed something.”

Crowley harrumphed. He stood up and walked over to the bookshelf to the left of the desk and ran his finger along the spines of the books there.

“Red,” he said snarkily. “Blue. Light blue. Gray. Tan. White. Kind of an orange. Dark yellow. Turquoise –”

“Oh, that last one is really more cerulean, my dear,” the angel cut in.

The demon glared at him. He came over to the desk and starting flinging Aziraphale’s pencils onto the desktop. “White. Goldenrod. Yellow. Brown. Red --”

“Actually –” the angel chirped.

“So help me, if you’re breaking in to tell me that one is more of a claret, we are going to have an argument, angel.”

Aziraphale blinked helplessly at him. “All right then,” he said faintly. “You can see colors. I don’t see what you’re so upset about.”

Crowley sat back down on the couch with a thump. He picked up his glass. “Red, by the way,” he said. “I’m drinking red.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. You’re being such a child.” Aziraphale turned back towards his work.

They both sat in silence, Aziraphale scratching away on his ledgers and Crowley staring into space, until the demon broke the silence a few minutes later.

“We should test Frederick though,” he said. “It’d be interesting.”

Figuring out how to do so was a challenge. They’d learned that Freddie could point to things with his tail, so they finally settled on printing out a kind of simple color wheel for him that they laid in front of him on the kitchen table. Just the primary and secondary colors, plus black, white, and gray, all big and easy to identify. Then they got his agreement to look at various objects and try to tell them what color they were.

They held up an apple.

Frederick pointed to gray.

Carrot – gray. Lettuce – green. A picture of the sky – blue. Aziraphale – blue. Crowley – green.

“Wait a minute,” Crowley said. “What do you mean that he’s blue and I’m green? Our skin? Our hair? What are you seeing?”

Frederick looked confused, and confusion always made him irritated. I DON’T KNOW, he shrieked. HE’S JUST BLUE. BLUE IS SOFT. YOU’RE ALL GREEN AND SHARP.

“I’m mostly black and red,” Crowley pointed out to him, after translating for Aziraphale.

DON’T BE AN IDIOT, YOU’RE GREEN, JUST LIKE ME.

“He says he’s green too,” Crowley told Aziraphale.

“Fascinating!”

CAN WE BE DONE WITH THIS STUPID GAME NOW? Frederick shrieked. I’M COLD. PUT ME BACK UNDER THE HEAT LAMP, PLEASE!

Crowley sighed. “He says he’s done.” He picked him up and took him back to his heat lamp on the table in the office.

IF YOU’VE GOT ANY MORE STUPID IDEAS ABOUT THE STATE OF THE WORLD THAT YOU NEED DISPROVEN, JUST LET ME KNOW! Freddie said sarcastically as he settled back in his warm spot.

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Crowley assured him. “You’re first on the list.”

HONESTLY, BLACK AND RED. YOU’RE UNBELIEVABLE.

Crowley turned the lamp up to just the right setting, and left him to continue to snicker quietly to himself about his ridiculous owners.

Myth: Snakes are social animals and enjoy the company of other snakes.

Fact: Snakes, in general, do not like other snakes.

Despite the many, many instances in which Aziraphale threatened to never take him out of the bookstore ever again, the angel often couldn’t resist taking Frederick out for a stroll on a particularly nice day. All the snake had to do was look at him in a certain way – a sort of helpless, pouty kind of expression, punctuated by a tiny tongue flick – and the fluffy one would roll his eyes, stuff him in a pocket or wrap him around his neck, and bring him along on his intended walk through the park. Frederick, for his part, would contentedly hiss and settle in for the ride, determined to be good.

It wasn’t his fault if at least some of the time, a rambunctious bird made that impossible. And better not to discuss the incident with the rat beneath the raspberry bush at all. Some things were best forgotten.

On this particular day, the fluffy one and the pointy one were heading out to St. James with a bag of frozen peas for the ducks when Frederick decided he was not going to be left behind.

YO SNAKEBIRD, he shouted. I WANNA COME.

Crowley checked in with the angel, then shrugged and came over to his basket and picked him up. “Fine,” he said, draping the snake around his neck, “but you’re riding with me.”

Fine with him, Frederick thought. The nice thing about riding around Crowley’s neck was that they could actually talk the whole time. He curled up with his head on the demon’s shoulder, facing front, so he could watch all the people going by and insult them as needed. This was going to be fun.

It was a warm, beautiful day in early spring, and it seemed like half of London had headed to the park. They saw on a bench and fed the ducks their peas, then spread a blanket out on a sunny hillside and sprawled out for a rest. They were sitting there, munching on olives, when suddenly Frederick hissed and pulled his head up to stare pointedly at something.

“What?” Crowley said. “What is it?”

JUST LOOK! The snake shrieked. LOOK AT THAT!

Both of his companions turned to follow the direction he was pointing in and saw a man sitting about ten yards away. He was slim, with tight cropped hair and tattoos visible on both arms, but what was most notable about him was the extremely large yellow and white snake that was wrapped around his neck and shoulders. The snake appeared to be a yellow boa, intricately patterned in yellow and white, and had to be close to eight feet long. It literally rippled with muscle and a sense of tightly coiled power. It laid with its head on the man’s chest, languid and warm in the sun.

“Oh my,” Aziraphale said. “What a lovely specimen!” He immediately felt both of his companions turn to glare at him and couldn’t quite help himself from needling them just a little. “I mean, he’s such a lovely color… I do like yellow, you know.”

“That’s enough, angel,” Crowley hissed. “You’re insulting both of us, here.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “I’m insulting you both by admiring another snake?”

YES YOU ARE, DUHHHHHH, Frederick shouted.

Crowley translated. “Especially him,” he added.

WE HATE HIM, Frederick howled.

“We do,” Crowley confirmed, continuing to share Freddie’s comments with the angel.

Aziraphale blinked. “Well,” he said firmly, “I do think the yellow, while attractive, is a bit showy. I much prefer snakes in shades of black and red, as you both know.”

Crowley rolled his shoulders and allowed himself to be mollified as Aziraphale went back to his book. He and Frederick, though, continued to watch the yellow boa and make sneering comments to each other.

“He’s not very smart, is he?” Crowley muttered at one point as the boa just… laid there.

TOTAL POSER, Frederick agreed.

The snake, possibly picking up on some of the negativity wafting his way from a few blankets over, lifted its head and sighted them both for a moment, flicking its tongue out to scent them, and then went back to staring at whatever it had been staring at before. It looked unimpressed.

“All brawn, no brains,” Crowley said under his breath.

STRICTLY DECORATIVE.

“Couldn’t catch a bird if his life depended on it.”

PROBABLY TOO FAT TO EVEN MOVE.

Aziraphale slapped his book shut. “Will you two please stop?” he said. “You’re going to start some kind of skirmish and I’m going to have to separate everyone and then one of us is going to punched by the rather muscle-bound owner of the snake in question, and then I will be very put out.”

Frederick and Crowley both looked at him, Crowley blinking innocently and Frederick doing his best completely-harmless look.

“Why do you hate him anyways?” he asked, puzzled. “He hasn’t done anything to you.”

Crowley, eloquent as always shrugged.

JUST DO, Frederick shrieked. DON’T LIKE OTHER SNAKES.

Crowley dutifully translated.

“But… you two like each other,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley and Frederick looked a little surprised at that, and they eyed each other warily for a moment as if startled to be reminded that this should have been an issue between them.

Crowley flapped a hand around dismissively. “That’s different,” he said. “Freddie’s the only true snake here. I’m a serpent demon. It’s not the same thing at all.”

HE’S HALF BIRD, Frederick squawked indignantly. IT DOESN’T COUNT.

Plus, he thought, well aware that he’d never share these thoughts with either of them, Crowley was just cool. He was the largest snake Freddie had ever seen or heard of, he could fly, he had magic powers, and he was, inexplicably, a member of his family. He wasn’t about to look a gift serpent in the mouth. He knew he was one lucky king snake to end up where he was.

“Snakes don’t like other snakes,” Crowley said. “You know that. We aren’t social creatures.”

I DON’T LIKE THE LOOK OF HIM. Frederick screeched. LET’S GO OVER AND TALK TO HIM AND TELL HIM HE’S STUPID.

“Perhaps we should go,” Aziraphale said, sensing trouble.

PROBABLY, Freddie shouted. I’M PRETTY SURE I’LL END UP BEATING HIM UP IF WE STAY.

“It would save him the humiliation,” Crowley affirmed.

HE’D PROBABLY CRY.

“Almost certainly.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, tucked his book away and stood up and pushed the other two aside to shake out the blanket. He rolled it up into a tight cylinder and tucked it inside the picnic basket, then ushered Crowley and his juvenile delinquent towards the sidewalk in the opposite direction from the boa.

“Keep walking,” he said tersely as they both turned their heads to take one last glare at the yellow serpent.

The boa’s owner, looking vaguely amused, raised a hand in greeting to Aziraphale, who politely waved back.

Too bad, he thought. He seemed like a nice man. It would have been interesting to talk to him about his snake friend and see if he had any tips to share. He had the sudden urge to read more of his snake book at home, and see if he could ever hope to understand these two. He’d have to find something distracting for them both to do when they returned to the shop.

#good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #snek fiction #understanding your snake

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areyougonnabe · 5 years

Text

Gerry Keay learns that the last place a very dangerous Leitner was seen was an international rare book fair in London, just last week. He intimidates the trader into giving him the information of the buyer, and hopes it’s not too late by the time he gets there, he hopes that his mother hasn’t beaten him to it, hasn’t arrived and done something unspeakably awful to the shop owner in order to get her hands on that 17th-century tome, Athanasius Kircher’s Ars magna lucis et umbrae, which Leitner’s catalogue indicated had the power to induce a catastrophic hallucinatory state in the reader.

When he gets there, prepared to intimidate and bargain and wheedle and terrify his way into possession of the book, his heart falls as he steps in to see a pale, bookish man seated in a chair, the book propped open on his lap.

“No—!” he yells, panicked, horrified. This is worse than being beaten by his mother, somehow. With that, at least, he could have had somewhere external to direct his anger. But now, the idea that if he’d just been a bit faster, a bit quicker to research, he could have saved this poor man from a ruined mind— there is only one person to blame, and it’s himself.

And then, as Gerry rushes forward, prepared to see the telltale swirls of distorted light behind the man’s eyes, marking him out as a lost cause, yet another casualty of a Leitner, the man looks up at him. His eyes are clear and blue, utterly and obviously entirely lucid. How the fuck—?

The man snaps the book shut. “Mr. Keay, I presume,” he says. "Um,” Gerry stammers, and the man smiles kindly and stands up from his chair, holding the book in wide, solid hands.

Gerry points at the book, trying to regain some sense of his mission. “That book,” he says, and before he can continue the man interrupts, “It’s quite interesting, isn’t it?”

This nearly draws a laugh out of Gerry. Interesting isn’t exactly the word he’d use to describe a Leitner tome that has permanently incapacitated six people in the last year. “It’s dangerous,” he says, as seriously as he can. “I don’t know how— look. If it hasn’t already done its damage on you, it’s only a matter of time. It’s got to be destroyed. Please. You’re in danger, as long as you’ve got it with you.”

The man— who Gerry realizes must be the A.Z. Fell of the store’s marquee, though that hardly seems like a real name a person would have— looks him up and down, with a stare that seems to penetrate to the very heart of him. Gerry feels like he’s being— well. Read, like a book.

“I appreciate your concern,” Fell says, “but I assure you, it’s not needed. A little thing like this could do just as much harm to me as you could.” He smiles, a little twinkly smile wildly at odds with the outlandish implications of his statement.

“But my mother—” Gerry begins, wondering how he could possibly convey the threat Mary poses to anyone who stands in between her and her precious books. Fell, in his waistcoat and reading glasses, looks like he’d last about five minutes against the fearful torments she’s capable of dishing out, even in her weakened state of undeath.

“Your mother,” says Fell, stern, like a schoolteacher, “is, I’m sure you won’t mind me saying, an utterly horrid woman. She knows very well that she’s not to come anywhere near this bookshop, and the consequences that await her if she should even so much as try.”

“...You know her?”

He raises his eyebrows. “In this profession, one must be acquainted at least superficially with one’s competition."

Gerry’s eyes are drawn inexorably to the book Fell still holds in his hands. “I don’t want to take it from you by force,” he says, “but I will. If I have to. I’m telling you, it’s no good, I’ve got to destroy it—”

Fell tsks softly, letting his gaze fall to the book as well. “Such a beautiful book,” he says quietly. “A shame, what’s been done to it...”

And now those eyes are on Gerry again, and he feels pinned beneath their weight. He’s suddenly conscious of the dirty blonde roots showing at his scalp, clashing with the black dye above; he’s aware of the holes in his shirt, worn down from constant wear; the pitted acne scars on his face and his crooked teeth.

But Fell is not looking at him with judgement, not the way his mother did, constantly condescending, rating him short of standard. It’s whatever the opposite of that is— a look of pure acceptance. Pride, even— but how is that possible, when he’s never met this man before in his life—?

“My dear boy,” says Fell, “you’ve done so very well. I think it’s high time someone told you that.”

He places the book gently into Gerry’s hands. Gerry is frozen in place for a moment, mind whirring prematurely with plans of how to destroy it (would it respond to flame? Necessitate drowning? Shredding, burying, a single stab to the heart of it?)

But then Fell snaps his fingers, and the air around them shivers, sings silently like a ringing bell, and the book crumbles cleanly to white ash in his hands.

Gerry’s seen enough to not question the mechanics of such an act.

Instead, he asks: “Why?”

Fell smiles now. “You remind me quite a bit of an... associate of mine. Someone who’s done me many a favor over the years. Sentimental of me, I suppose, but I have my vices.”

Gerry finds it hard to believe a man like Fell would associate with someone like him— if Fell were to have a friend, Gerry would imagine them to be another stuffy academic type, not a shabby goth with a sarcastic streak fathoms deep.

"Thank you, sir,” says Gerry, because Mary may have utterly failed to impress up on him her worldview and morality, but she certainly taught him his manners.

“Oh, please,” says Fell, “call me Aziraphale.”

He extends a warm hand and Gerry takes it, and mid-handshake something clicks in his mind. A tome in his mother’s library, an ancient and obscure manuscript containing illuminated portraits of the hierarchies of angels— one of the few books with pictures, so naturally one he read over and over as a child. One of the pages rattles around in his head and then settles, coming into focus. A white-robed, sun-haired angel with great white wings, bearing a flaming sword, and underneath it in black ink against gold leaf: The Principality Aziraphale.

Gerry steps back, a bit shocked. Aziraphale sees the flicker of recognition in his eyes and raises a single finger to his lips conspiratorially.

There’s a moment where Gerry thinks he might do something embarrassing like beg for help, or ask to stay a little longer, here in this wonderfully warm and bright and safe bookshop— but it passes, as his purpose reasserts itself inside of him with the burning force that’s kept him going for so long on his own.

“Aziraphale,” he says, testing the ancient name on his tongue. “Well. If you ever come across any more Leitners—”

“You’ll be the first to know, you have my word.”

Gerry nods. “I— You— you’ve got a very nice shop.” Aziraphale beams at him. “Best be off, though,” Gerry goes on. He dusts off the last of the white ash that used to be the Leitner from his hands and turns to go.

“Of course,” says Aziraphale understandingly.

At the door, Gerry pauses, and turns back.

“Your friend,” he says. “The one I remind you of. For your sake, I hope he’s better than me at staying out of trouble.”

“Ah,” says Aziraphale. “He is trouble.”

“Much better,” says Gerry, and with that, steps back out into the busy Soho street, and disappears into the crowd.

#the magnus archives #tma #good omens #my writing #LOVE TO POST FIC AT ONE THIRTY IN THE MORNING #in an act of pure self sabotage

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aziraphales-library · 3 months

Note

Hiii! First of all I wanted to thank you all for the amazing work that you do. Your suggestions are always on point. Now, for the question, I was wondering if you know any fics that are similar to secondhand smoke. Maybe about Catholic guilt and/or coming out? Thank you :))

Hello! We have a #religious guilt tag you might be interest in. Here are some religious conflict/coming out fics...

Cappucchino Readings - A "Good Omens" Univeristy AU by Jelly_Jenkins (T)

When Aziraphale took the job at the campus library, he didn't think anything of it. Of course he was excited to make some extra money and such, but he never expected to get out so much more.

The Day You Eat of It by K1ngB (E)

It all started as it will end... at a summer camp (with strangely religious undertones). In Aziraphale's mind, the best part of summer was those two weeks spent with the children. Just as eager to absorb new information and experiences as he was to teach the next generation same as he was at this same camp nearly ten years ago. A lot has changed since then, namely the amount of blatant proselytizing but some things always stay the same. In Crowley's mind, he gets to see the apple of his eye for two weeks every year, and he'll be damned if he doesn't make the most of it. He sustains himself on the discreet glances, the creeping blushes, and the inevitable banter of his favorite camp counselor. He is prepared for the long game and was nailing it if he was being honest... And then he got caught wanking in the showers and it's all downhill from there. or Summer Camp Counselor AU. Crowley is a sappy pining fool and Aziraphale has no idea what's going on.

search terms by Vagabond (M)

Aziraphale expects it to be a quiet night working in the university library when a flashy red haired, foul mouthed, panicking student needs to find credible sources for his paper and can't figure out how to use the search. Little does Aziraphale know that meeting Crowley will lead him on a path to self-discovery, and give him the family he didn't realize he needed. From a prompt on tumblr: College AU - You’re REALLY GOOD at using the right search terms for the academic databases and I’m on a deadline.

Opposites Attract by Pal456 (M)

The Eastgate family hated the Crowley family. Hated them so much, that their children were not to spend any time together. That never stopped Aziraphale and Crowley being drawn to one another time and time again even though their families would pull them apart. As years go by, Aziraphale tries to do right by his parents in order to take over the family business one day, but it seems like the Almighty might have a different, ineffable, plan that brings the two together every chance they get.

Out of Suffering Into Love by Slow_Burn_Sally (E)

Aziraphale is a sexually repressed man who grew up in a religious household. Crowley is an artist with a sordid past. Both of them are afraid to love and be loved.

One and the Same Fall by ElliottRook (E)

Aziraphale Fell is a UK student attending an American Catholic school on exchange, an escape from a strict, conservative family. Anthony Crowley is a juvenile delinquent on his last chance, sent to live with his uncle and attend a school that promises to shape him up. When they cross paths at St. Bernadette's, they nearly instantly become friends, and nobody likes it--not the teachers, not the old-money students, not Aziraphale's family--but it's the best thing that's ever happened to either of them. Hanging over their heads, though, is Crowley's plan to flee the moment he comes of age, and what will happen after they're no longer trapped in the same gilded cage.

And the one you mentioned...

secondhand smoke by PaintedVanilla (T)

you're second hand smoke, second hand smoke i breathe you in, but, honey, i don't know what you're doing to me mon chéri the year is 1990, and anthony crowley is looking for a church in london that might be tolerable. the one he winds up attending isn't exactly such, but he decides to stick around for one reason. said reason happens to own a bookshop that crowley begins to frequent, much to the surprise and delight of anathema device and newton pulsifer, who seem quite convinced that crowley could use something else to focus on besides gardening, their campaigns, and visits to tadfield.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #human au #religious guilt #coming out #college au #mod d #adult omens

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ineffable-endearments · 5 years

Text

Psycho-philosophy & the angels, fallen or not (part I)

I swear I wasn’t taking any mind-altering substances while I wrote this. It’s very heavy and I’m not sure anyone will enjoy it, but I felt like I had to get it out.

And now it’s too long to be just one part. Here is the first part anyway.

It’s established that Aziraphale and Crowley symbolize the “opposing” sides of human nature, but I have a pretty difficult time with believing that they actually represent “good” and “evil.” THEY believe they represent “good” and “evil.” But even before the two of them develop their humanity by spending time on Earth, before they start to affect each other, they both have philosophies that are far more complicated than just “do good things/be helpful” or “do bad things/be hurtful.”

Before you can be “good,” you need a definition of “good.” And the same goes for “evil.” And I absolutely do not think that the characters’ personal definitions of “good” and “evil” match with the narrative’s definitions of “good” and “evil” (which I’m not strictly sure it really has). So...what might they represent more closely?

In extremely broad terms based more in dictionary definitions than in the finer points of academic philosophy, I’d cast Crowley as the individualist and Aziraphale as the collectivist. Individualism is the prioritizing of the individual’s interests over a group’s interests. Collectivism is the prioritizing of a group’s interests over the individual’s interests.

Obviously, this is heavily informed by abuse from their Sides. Hell motivates its demons to behave by making them fear for their own souls using physical intimidation. Temptations are also usually focused on taking advantage of some selfish motivation in humans. Heaven, meanwhile, motivates its angels with the promise of the Greater Good, intimidates its angels with the belief that disobedience is out of line with the Greater Good, and shames its angels for acting with any sort of personal interest.

“What?!” you say. You’re going to cast Crowley, the guy who initially hatched the plan to try to save the world at great personal risk, as the self-centered individualist, and Aziraphale, the hedonist who’s just about ready to watch the world burn at Heaven’s command until Crowley buys him lunch, as the collectivist one?!

Well...in a way. Because while the characters believe they represent these ideas, and while they genuinely buy into them on some level, the whole point is that the two viewpoints taken to extremes end up looking awfully similar. They also rely on each other, no matter how much they try not to.

I should clarify a few things before arguing any more.

The perceived “selflessness” of collectivism is sometimes idealized, and that’s why it maps onto the supposed “goodness” of Heaven, but it doesn’t actually mean kindness, compassion, or goodness. It means not considering oneself - including one’s own identity, preferences, or moral conscience. Likewise, the perceived “selfishness” of individualism is often vilified and gets cast as evil, which is why it maps onto Hell, but all it really means is placing one’s own perspective at the utmost importance, which can be beneficial depending on who’s doing it.

I’ve seen some incredibly smart commentary on the Good Omens book being a just-barely-post-Cold War novel comparing, among other things, Capitalism (heavy on individualism) and Communism (heavy on collectivism). I thought the analysis I read was brilliant, it told me a lot that I had not thought of before, and I would love to read more. But that’s not what I want to talk about here.

In this essay, I’m really sticking to the terms “individualism” and “collectivism” as they inform the psychologies of individual people (Crowley and Aziraphale). I’m trying to have a discussion that I think is important, because it’s important for humans to have a healthy notion of how individuals fit into their relationships and communities, but my commentary is much more vague and not tied to a specific moment in history. I’m frankly not very qualified to talk about the Cold War, anyway.

Crowley and Aziraphale are a couple of paradoxes. At least, they’re paradoxes until they discover Earth as their true allegiance, at which time they just become two balanced angels of neither Heaven nor Hell.

CROWLEY’S PHILOSOPHY

Crowley knows he’s supposed to represent Hell and the kind of self-interested desperation that drives people to damnation - a kind of extreme individualism. But he’s been condensed into an Earthly being who’s formed relationships and preferences and loves and, gosh, although he wouldn’t admit it, a conscience. Unlike Aziraphale, he’s much more OK with this sense of identity, because individualism is not incompatible with being, well, an individual. But he does struggle with the fact that he’s supposed to be working toward The End Of All Things for his own self-preservation when his real wish is for The Continuation Of All Things.

Most of Crowley’s decisions are framed from his own personal opinions. He approaches the world as he sees fit, which includes accepting his job of damning souls because he has to or he’ll get destroyed. He does what he needs to survive, so you could say he “answers to the higher power of Hell for self-interested reasons,” but for moral purposes, Crowley does not answer to anyone. Interestingly, though, he DOES have a conscience based in his own feelings.

By personality (not because he serves some moral power but because it’s just his personal preference), Crowley does not like certain kinds of cruelty. He’s willing to do his job, but he doesn’t enjoy taking free will away from people, for example. And in most cases, outright violence (like Hastur turning into a pile of worms and eating the telemarketers alive) is not something Crowley is into, either. In this case, the fact that he’s self-motivated means he has enough imagination to grasp what it’s like to be another person, and while he’s willing to upset people/give people the opportunity to damn themselves/generally be inconsiderate in public, Crowley simply does not enjoy the experience of destroying others without giving them a choice.

Oh, and we can’t forget: “You’re supposed to test them, but not to destruction.” It’s Crowley’s personal feelings that lead him to believe Armageddon shouldn’t happen, and Crowley’s personal feelings that lead him to act out against Hell.

With all that said, Crowley feels a profound love for the world and Aziraphale (whether he’ll admit it or not) because he really enjoys it on Earth, and he wants to keep enjoying it. Therefore, all of his “individualism” ends up working in the favor of the “greater good” anyway. In the end, Crowley temporarily loses hope and stops fighting, but by this point, he’s already had his positive effect.

It’s kind of like Terry Pratchett’s powerful quotation about witches being selfish. “All witches are selfish, the Queen had said. But Tiffany's Third Thoughts said: Then turn selfishness into a weapon! Make all things yours! Make other lives and dreams and hopes yours!” Maybe it’s not so intentional on Crowley’s part, but the outcome of his love for Earth and his bond with Aziraphale ends up serving the interests of others.

Crowley’s journey involves a less drastic change than Aziraphale’s. Once he thinks it’s possible to fight for the world and survive, he doesn’t have a single qualm about it, because he answers to his own standards, not anyone else’s.

AZIRAPHALE’S PHILOSOPHY

Aziraphale, on the other hand, has to basically figure out that it’s a good thing to use his own judgment instead of Heaven’s. In doing so, he has to rewrite his belief system and even rework his identity.

Aziraphale knows he’s supposed to represent the collective, Heaven, the Greater Good. But he’s been condensed into an Earthly being who’s formed relationships and preferences and loves and a conscience and an identity of his own. At first, this feels wrong to him, because many of his personal interests go against Heaven’s. It’s why he’s so incredibly good at repressing and denying; he has this sense of Self but doesn’t believe he’s entitled to it and doesn’t realize there is any way to separate from Heaven, so as far as he knows, to allow this Self to grow and flourish would ultimately be extremely painful and potentially dangerous. You can tell the other angels aren’t happy with his sense of self, either, as far as he allows it to go (see: any interaction in the bookshop, Gabriel’s behavior over the sushi).

Aziraphale is so oriented toward the Heavenly collective that he literally denies himself his own judgments, his own opinions. He’s convinced that Heaven is the Greater Good, so he accepts that as reality no matter how absurdly wrong their actions might seem to someone with an iota of common sense. He has not been allowed to have an opinion on it, and he will not form one now. He does intensely enjoy performing altruism and does not approve of Heaven’s plans to drown all of Mesopotamia and turn Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt, but he will even push aside the satisfaction of kindness and the fear of cruelty if he’s told that his feelings don’t fit within the Great Plan.

It’s important to note that as far as Aziraphale believes, the existence of Hell and the work that Crowley is doing for Hell is in fact part of the Great Plan. He says as much to the Archangels when they bully him outside his bookshop.

Aziraphale is enthusiastic and adoring about life on Earth and about humans - and about Crowley! And oh, he does indulge. But he sees this all in a rather passive way, at least at first. He is simply enjoying the world and allowing the Great Plan to unfold. He does not think he has the right or ability to defend the world from Heaven’s judgment, even though he wants to. So, like Crowley’s self-orientation coming full circle to serve the interests of others, Aziraphale’s orientation toward the collective comes full circle to become very self-serving.

THE TWO TOGETHER

Enter Crowley’s judgment. Crowley is really fantastic company, but I think the specific thing he did in the long run was to help Aziraphale see that his own desires and judgments matter. Even when Aziraphale temporarily disavowed their relationship, Crowley’s influence was strong - would the Aziraphale who was standing on the Wall of Eden, or the Aziraphale who witnessed the Great Flood, have chased Gabriel around asking if the war was necessary, or would he have called the Metatron to argue everyone could be saved? Even when Aziraphale doesn’t actually ask questions, these interactions are an assertion of Aziraphale’s own feelings and judgments when he’s being told to be quiet and fall in line. And I really do not think he would have made these assertions before his long Arrangement with Crowley. In this way, Crowley gave Aziraphale the world and the gift of Being Himself.

As for Crowley, he doesn’t care about any Great Plan and thinks Heaven’s will is positively odious, but Aziraphale is convinced that the cosmic dance between the two of them is just ineffable. By playing along with that notion, Crowley allows it to become a self-fulfilling prophecy. The meaning of Crowley’s existence goes from “just make everyone as miserable as possible” to “balance out Aziraphale” which really means “create a world that doesn’t suck as much as Heaven or Hell, which are both insufferable.” In this way, Aziraphale gave Crowley the world and the gift of Being Part of Something.

#good omens #good omens spoilers

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growing-nerd · 4 years

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Hello! I have had this blog for quite some time, but I never formally introduced myself, so here we go!

💜Info

You can call me Thal!

They/them

I’m majoring in Environmental Science at SNHU, completely online

Slytherin, INTP, Aquarius

💙Interests

I love reading and writing, though I have lots of WIPs.

I have about a dozen hobbies I circulate between, including embrodery and calligraphy.

I have an extensive fandom history, hence the icon of Aziraphale from Good Omens.I felt he embodied my intellectual side and the aesthetics I’ll be posting to this blog.

💜Academics

I used to go to RIT as a chemistry major. However, due to health issues, it became apparent that online studying would be more suited for me.

I have always been interested in science, and preserving the environment has been a concern for me since high school. It all fell in place from there.

SNHU Online works on a 1-2 class/2 month schedule. For the next two months, I will be taking Perspectives in Social Science.

I took French for 3 years and became decently proficient. I wanted to continue my foreign language education so I use Duolingo.

💙Why Studyblr?

I want to keep myself inspired, and hopefully inspire others

💜Goals

Post original content at least once every week

Eventually start the 100 days of productivity challenge

💙Some of my favourite studyblrs

@studylikeaslytherin @studyblr @jennystudy @academc @wasianstudies

#studyblr #introducing myself #studyblr introduction #blue and purple #snhu #good omens

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a-still-small-vox · 5 years

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New Year’s fic wrap up

I did this last year, so I might as well do it this year too!

Fics written in 2019, and their word counts:

My Servant Noctis, In Whom I Am Well Pleased (FFXV, Noctis & Carbuncle, January) - 2,725

City Boy (FFXV, Promptis, February) - 3,502

At The Height Of My Esteem (Good Omens, Aziraphale & Crowley, August) - 1,755

Surely Come My Way (Good Omens, Aziraphale x Crowley, August) - 1,543

A Kinder Mirror (Star Trek, Kirkspock, August) - 6,623

Meet Me Halfway (FFXV, Promptis, August) - 6,215

A Risk We’ll Take* (Dragon Age, Dorian x Trevelyan, September) - 1,560 *Fic only posted on this blog, not AO3

You And Me Against The Whole Entire World (Miraculous Ladybug, Ladynoir/Adrinette, October) - 3,188

Her Own Beloved (Miraculous Ladybug, Ladynoir/Adrinette, November) - 2,923

To See With The Heart (Kingdom Hearts, Soriku, November) - 2, 673

The Witch And The Lettuce Thief (Homestuck, Jaderoxy, December) - 2,279

Other:

Perchance To Wake - I’ve been working on this one since 2017 and I posted chapters 6, 7, and 8 (out of 13 projected chapters) this year.

Say My Name (Voltron) - I started this in 2017 but only finished it in January of 2019.

She Has Seen Happiness (NGE, 802 words) - NGE New Year piece, I wrote this last year (2018), but it wasn’t published until January 2019.

Like There’s Nothing To It (KH, 1,032 words) - Treasured Memories Zine piece, I wrote this last year but it wasn’t published until February 2019.

Two Good Men (Voltron, 3,468 words) - Thulaz Zine piece, I wrote this last year but it wasn’t published until February 2019.

An Unflinching Will (1,786 words) - Crossroads Zine piece, I wrote this last year but it wasn’t published until July 2019.

The Lost City of Jyahen (No. 6, 3,446 words) - No. 6 Zine piece, hasn’t been made public yet.

Total fics (not counting everything written last year and posted this year, or Perchance To Wake & Say My Name): 12 Total word count: 38,432

Unlike last year, my works don’t focus on one specific fandom, but are spread across multiple fandoms. The most work I did for any one fandom was for Final Fantasy XV and Promptis, but Good Omens and Miraculous Ladybug were the other fandoms that really grabbed my attention this year.

Specifics:

Best/worst title? I think A Kinder Mirror is the most interesting title, and City Boy is the least interesting and the one I put the least thought into. That’s because it was originally intended to be a silly oneshot that was less than 1,000 words, even though it ended up being longer. Although, there are three fics named after song lyrics (Surely Come My Way, Meet Me Halfway, and You And Me Against The Whole Entire World) so maybe those are the least creative?

Best/worst quote/passage?

As with last year, no worst passages. Trawling through my fics to find stuff to hate isn’t my idea of a good time, and nothing springs to mind as the worst passage off the top of my head, so...

As for the best, here’s a nice quote I found after a cursory skim of all my fics:

“The black fabric falls away. Blue eyes meet aqua ones, and Sora’s eyes spill over again. Riku is still blinking back tears himself. Sora has tricked him into being seen, and brought him back from the very heart of darkness. Or maybe he let Sora bring him, but still.” (To See With The Heart)

Best/worst first line?

Most of my first lines are pretty utilitarian, this year, rather than flowery.

The least exciting is this one from A Risk We’ll Take, where I used the device of quoting another text. It’s a boring quote, but that’s the point. Still doesn’t make it any more fun to read:

““There are no tomes dedicated to this manipulation. There has been no time for academics, only the practical—and not in a manner that mitigates risk. Power in a raw form has found an outlet, both visible and in ways that only we of arcane proclivity can sense. The risk is great.”

Dominic groaned, completely sick of the reading he was doing on ancient magical techniques.“

I think the best first sentence is from the opening of At The Height Of My Esteem:

“A demon looked out over the blackness of space. The Earth hung before him, glowing and vibrant in all its green, white, and blue glory. In Crowley's professional star-builder opinion, it was beautiful - just not as beautiful as anything made by him.”

Best/worst last line?

I don’t think that any of the last lines from this year’s fics are noticeably worse than the others. The last line of The Witch And The Lettuce Thief is a bit generic (”And they all lived happily ever after”) but since I was purposefully harkening to a fairy tale style I don’t really consider that an issue.

The best last line is definitely this one from To See With The Heart:

“Above the ocean before them, a door opens in the sky and light ripples across the water. Light that Riku doesn’t need, as long as he’s with Sora.”

General questions:

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted? I wrote exactly half as many fics as last year. What that tells you, I don’t know. I did predict I would write more fics this year than I actually ended up writing. I am a little disappointed that I didn’t write more, but at least the things I wrote are pretty good.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year? OMG, I NEVER would have predicted I’d be writing a Star Trek fanfiction, let alone that it would be 6,000 words long! But the episode Mirror Mirror from The Original Series really caught my imagination (and I’d been reading some really good Kirkspock fics by others at the time) so I had the sudden whim and inspiration to write A Kinder Mirror. What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest. I don’t have like a definite #1 favourite, but I am a fan of A Kinder Mirror and Her Own Beloved. The first was just an unexpected surprise experiment that turned out really well, and the second is very fun and cute so it’s just a good time. To See With The Heart is also something I’ve been wanting to write for a long time, and I think it turned out well.

Okay, NOW your most popular story. Her Own Beloved is now literally my second most popular work EVER, out of 114 works, beating out stories with multiple chapters like Fateswap, Perchance To Wake, and Milky Weeds. At the time of writing this it has 28 comment threads, 350 kudos, 31 bookmarks, and 2,845 hits. I’m really pleased about this because Her Own Beloved unseated the previous 2nd most popular work which was a One Punch Man smut oneshot I wrote as a gift for someone else. It is what it was meant to be, but I’m glad something with a little more heart is now in 2nd place.

Story most underappreciated by the universe? The Witch and The Lettuce Thief could stand to have more than 0 comments =_= (it has 11 kudos and it’s for a rarepair. Where are my comments...) Story that could have been better? The Witch And The Lettuce Thief. It was a ship I’ve never written before, it wasn’t the plot I wanted (because it had to conform to the Homestuck Secret Santa gift recipient’s request), and I know Roxy’s dialogue is way less ornamented than it should be. That said, the recipient enjoyed it so I’m still happy with it. City Boy is also pretty simplistic, but it was never meant to be Deep so I’m fine with that too. Sexiest story? City Boy and Meet Me Halfway both have sexy bits in them, but unlike last year I didn’t write any smut oneshots.

Saddest story? As with last year, Perchance To Wake still has a lot of suffering for Prompto and Noctis despite its intended eventual happy ending. None of my other stories are really that sad. All of them have happy endings. I’m just Like That Most fun? City Boy and Her Own Beloved are both very fun. The resolution of Her Own Beloved was built around a joke so it was a blast to write and I hope it’s just as fun to read. And City Boy is just lighthearted. Story with single sweetest moment? Probably this bit from Her Own Beloved:

“Marinette couldn’t help herself. She started to laugh, and then Chat Noir (her own beloved Adrien, her own!) launched himself towards her and spun her around and around and around, kissing every part of her face he could reach. Her nose, her chin, her cheeks, her forehead, her lips, even her mask and her hair were the target of Adrien’s kisses, all while Marinette continued to laugh so hard she could barely breathe.”

Hardest story to write? Despite how excited I was to write Meet Me Halfway, writing it was like pulling teeth. I had to rewrite each scene multiple times to get it to be as good as it ended up being. Bless all of my patient friends who helped me edit and improve it.

Easiest/most fun story to write? The two Good Omens fics were really easy to write because I wrote most of the dialogue in one sitting for both fics. However, I wouldn’t say they were fun to write because I was unfortunately pretty stressed at the time I wrote both of them ^^; But that had nothing to do with the fics themselves and everything to do with circumstance. City Boy was also pretty easy to write too, because I was just putting down whatever came into my head in short bites.

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters? At The Height Of My Esteem was a character and relationship study of both Crowley and Aziraphale, and the process of thinking about it and writing it did challenge my ideas about Crowley. Although, I don’t think they changed much despite the fic’s ultimate conclusion. The Witch And The Lettuce Thief did help me refresh my understanding of Jade and Roxy too.

Most overdue story? This is the third year I’m working on Perchance To Wake, and it’s still not fully posted. Fingers crossed I’m able to finish it in 2020!

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them? Well, I wrote several ships I’d never written before, especially JadeRoxy which I had never even thought about before. A Kinder Mirror does have a bit of nonstandard prose in it, too. However, I don’t think I was as adventurous this year as last year, at least in terms of fanfiction. For original fiction, I wrote an original short story which is set in a historical middle ages/high fantasy context, which is something I’ve never done before and probably the most experimental I got with my writing in 2019. IDK exactly what I learnt from this, but I’m sure it was something XD

What are your fic writing goals for next year? I didn’t achieve many of my writing goals for this year, so my writing goals for next year are pretty much the same ones that I had for this year, but better.

1. I want to write more original fiction (I have 3 short stories in mind to work on and one novel) 2. I want to be the first to post in any fandom tag on ao3 3. I want to make a podfic in 2020

And if I get all that done:

4. I want to write a fanfiction for a book (possibly The Last Knight) 5. I want to write another fic in French 6. I want to do a “draw this again” meme (lol) for writing with a part of one of my old Homestuck fics

Given my track record this year I doubt I’ll be able to finish all of these things, but that won’t stop me from trying... Wish me luck ^^;

Tagging: @revasnaslan @kaiserin-astraia @ninemoons42

and the no. 6 writing crew: @glittercracker @pigeonsimba @curiousscarletteyes @hi-im-secretly-satan @secretagentfan

If I forgot someone I am SO sorry ^^; Anyone who wants to do this is free to do this and tag me, too!

#vox news #vox memes #2019

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