to the new good omens fans who didn’t read the book
Thats’ ok!!!!! that’s perfectly ok, you don’t have to read it if you don’t want to!!
if it’s because you don’t really like reading, there’s a radio play you can check out, but otherwise the miniseries was absolutely spectacular and there’s Nothing bad with making it the only good omens content you will ever consume. you’re not a fake fan or anything and you’re a treasured member of the fandom either way.
having said that, here’s the original drunk conversation in the back of the bookshop (which was likely shortened to fit the BBC’s strict “No Over 60m Episodes” rule) because it’s a literally life-changing experience
I think the important difference between aziraphale and crowley’s relationship with gender is that like. aziraphale is simply agender. he likes presenting as male, but past that doesn’t really have a concept of gender in relation to his own identity. gender exists on a different plane of reality from which he has entirely separated himself. while crowley actively embraces the idea of gender nonconformity and deliberately uses the fact that he’s nonbinary to present however the hell he wants to. neither have a gender in the conventional human sense, but crowley has a much more involved relationship with the concept of gender exploration and presentation than aziraphale does, whose overall attitude is just like “whatever. I don’t even go here”
as @thevioletsunflower put it, and deserves to be shared with the world: Aziraphale’s gender is “heavens no”. Crowley’s gender is “Hell yes”
Ok but Crowley is the reason Sherlock Holmes is so enduring.
No no, bear with me.
The first stories come out in The Strand. Crowley, newly woken from his near-century of sleep, reads them in Aziraphale’s copy, and really likes them. Aziraphale, who moves in literary circles, offers to introduce him to Doyle.
Crowley is very excited, and when they meet wrings Doyle’s hand and go on about how much he likes the stories.
Doyle, of course, is a rude bastard, and dismisses Crowley’s praise. He doesn’t like the character, he’s not interested in what people like Crowley think to him.
Crowley is initially tempted to destroy him, and ruin his career, but then realises he can get better revenge than that. He makes the popularity of the stories and books blow up. He puts them everywhere. He makes Sherlock Holmes the talk of London. He finances the backstreet presses printing spin-off stories.
And he keeps it going, firing up Holmes’ popularity until Doyle is driven out of his mind, believing in fairies and hating his own work. Until Arthur Conan Doyle is only ever remembered for Sherlock Holmes, and Crowley gets unending adaptations for himself.
i don’t think i’ve seen any kind of tumblr analysis that so far does justice to the face journey crowley goes through when he first meets aziraphale and finds out about the sword.
for context’s sake, this is how he reacts when he finds out aziraphale’s got rid of his own sword:
see that? that’s surprise, that’s unexpectedly-impressed, that’s holy-shit-this-is-an-angel-fucking-up-this-delights me. this is is this a rebellion? can angels rebel? i love it, five minutes on this strange green-and-blue rock and i’ve already found a playmate.
then compare with this, which is crowley hearing aziraphale explain why he ‘rebelled’ by giving away said sword: to whit, freezing cold, dangerous animals, pregnant woman:
that’s…dare i say it, tender? soft? certainly no less surprised but unexplicably, unexpectedly, touched. you can almost see the little flinch he experiences from that not-so-subtle heartflip that has just occurred. oh. oh. he didn’t lose his sword because he’s a brainless angel, or because he wanted to cause some trouble or stick it to the almighty he was just…being nice.
like, whatever reason the forces of hell had for rebelling, they sure as hell didn’t do it for nice reasons. i’m pretty certain, judging by the hell we see onscreen, that compassion features pretty heavily Down There. (nor, judging by the likes of gabriel or sandalphon, can i imagine angels are exactly known for their compassion amongst their demonic counterparts). crowley has come to earth expecting exactly 0% heartstrings-pulling, and then within the first half hour he meets this fluffy soft boi who smiles rather shyly even when he’s not supposed to and is painfully loyal to his boss even when he doesn’t understand Her ways and then does something daft like that, like giving away a heavenly flaming sword to a human for no other reason other than it’s a kind thing to do
and he’s an angel, they’re not supposed to do the wrong thing for the right reason, they’re sticklers, and yet look at what he’s just done…
and the next thing you know, crowley’s falling harder and faster than the day lucifer and the guys rocked up and asked ‘hey crawley, you up to anything today?’. and that is glorious.
also while we’re talking about the unacceptable face journeys of one anthony j. crowley, can we talk about his reaction to aziraphale reiterating that heaven will win the final battle
he’s touched.
a little sad, maybe, but ultimately touched. not mocking, like oh you really believe so do you, you naive angel? not angry, like you think you’re so much better than me, do you? not defiant, like we’ll just see about that, won’t we. when aziraphale announces that ‘good’ is going to triumph over evil, crowley’s first response is to think ‘aww. that’s kinda nice. my idealistic angel’s so cute’.
one thing i wish people would talk about a bit more is what aziraphale brings to the table in this relationship, which is a gentle-hearted, slightly naive but ultimately sweet sense of optimism. crowley’s pretty cynical about everything. he’s certainly lost faith in both heaven and hell – to a certain extent he’s even lost faith in humanity, because he knows that when you give humans an inch they take a mile and when you give them free will and a bunch of machine guns they shoot each other with the machine guns. but aziraphale is soft and sweet and genuinely tries to believe the best in things, and crowley just thinks that’s so damn adorable.
of course he then points out that even if heaven does win it’ll be an eternity of teetotalism and the sound of music but c’mon it’s crowley, he wouldn’t be crowley if he wasn’t encouraging aziraphale to think outside the box a little
Oh, you’re the best friend that I ever had I’ve been with you such a long time You’re my sunshine and I want you to know That my feelings are true I really love you Oh, you’re my best friend
🎶
crowley after six thousand years has all this patience and all this ‘your pace, angel’ about him and he never says but it’s not out of his own self-preservation vis-a-vis the mortifying ordeal of being known (tho it is vis-a-vis his safety from hell, which we’ve seen he’s willing to risk for aziraphale’s sake – that’s another post). he does it for aziraphale’s. crowley is ready to be known, but he knows that aziraphale – with his faith, with his loyalties to heaven – isn’t ready to know.
in a sense, crowley keeping quiet about the specifics of his feelings for aziraphale is another protective move in a long line of protective moves. crowley’s silence protects aziraphale’s status quo with regards to right and wrong v Right and Wrong as heaven denotes it, and instead crowley allows aziraphale the time and space to work up to challenging it himself. crowley lets aziraphale do it himself, he lets aziraphale come to those conclusions himself. and aziraphale does do this work! just very slowly. he agrees to the arrangement. he understands that he and crowley are in something that both heaven and hell would disapprove of. he doesn’t want crowley to be able to destroy himself, and then he decides he trusts crowley enough to not destroy himself (thereby leaving aziraphale behind). he gets involved in the raising-warlock scheme and doesn’t disclose every part of it to heaven. he goes slow – crowley sees that.
crowley allows him that. if the world weren’t ending, crowley would’ve waited even longer. but aziraphale is still clinging to heaven – he hasn’t given up on that blind faith. he still wants heaven to be good. he’s giving heaven every chance to prove itself as good so he doesn’t have to upset that status quo.
which is why it all blows up when crowley says he wants them to run off together. crowley can’t give aziraphale any more time; there is no more time. crowley submits himself to the mortifying ordeal of being known in a last desperate attempt to get the reward of being loved, but aziraphale isn’t ready to realign his worldview yet. he isn’t ready to acknowledge all the things about heaven and about crowley that must be true for what crowley is saying to be true. aziraphale is in fact flat out startled, and because he isn’t ready, he lashes out and rejects it. and actually, aziraphale in a very real sense has already betrayed crowley – he knows where the antichrist is and he’s already told heaven, and he’s lied to crowley about it. even though aziraphale wants heaven to do the same thing crowley wants – which is to stop the antichrist and the coming armageddon – he is keeping crowley out of it. he’s already put all his eggs in heaven’s basket, and then crowley shows up and submits himself, wholly and completely, to the mortifying ordeal of being known, and aziraphale basically goes, what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what am I supposed to do with that. it’s no mistake that crowley’s unforgivability v aziraphale’s holiness is a part of the arc in this conversation – aziraphale is thinking about it, and crowley is deliberately telling him, you know me better than to define me by that. but how can crowley be right over heaven? only if heaven is wrong. aziraphale can’t let go of that, not yet.
and for the first time really, crowley is storming away: he’s submitted himself, and aziraphale hasn’t known him. he’s rejected him.
but crowley doesn’t give up. he comes back: he submits again to the mortifying ordeal. aziraphale is listening to him. this is so important. aziraphale isn’t rejecting him easily the second time. he tries to tell crowley – he tries to let crowley into his plan now, but it comes down to asking crowley to trust heaven, and crowley knows better. the conversation about crowley’s forgivability comes back, and aziraphale is telling him that even if heaven won’t, i will, and that’s what matters between them right then. but it isn’t until aziraphale comes to the conclusions about heaven on his own in his conversation with the metatron that he fully understands what crowley was really telling him, and he understands. when aziraphale goes to the bar, he understands everything crowley is telling him, everything crowley has told him, and when he says “I’m sorry to hear that” in response to “I lost my best friend,” it’s what it says on the tin!! he’s sorry!! he didn’t trust crowley and he should have!! he’s sorry for the rejection he’s sorry he didn’t understand he’s sorry he betrayed crowley he’s sorry he let crowley leave.
and then he asks crowley for help. this isn’t a skip by the apologies they need – this is direct action apology. aziraphale undoes his betrayal. he came to tell crowley where the antichrist is. he came to tell crowley how to stop him. they are back on plan-anti-antichrist. actually crowley says, “i’m not going there,” but he’s going to go where aziraphale is, and they both know it. aziraphale is saying, i believe you. i understand you. i know you. but there’s one more step for them before they achieve the reward of being loved: they have to save the world, or it will all be over. aziraphale doesn’t actually need crowley in order to do this, but he wants him there. this is aziraphale’s alpha centauri, but we don’t just save ourselves. we’re better than that. we save everyone. and crowley says, tell me where to go.
at that point, there’s no longer any question that they’re going to do whatever they have to, and they’re going to do it together.
