No, said Aziraphale, it's ineffable.

Anonymous asked:

I just noticed that when the 'bad angels' confront Aziraphale, before they get rough with him, like... there's this moment Sandalphon actually looks SAD. And he'd not seemed particularly close to Aziraphale earlier, but it just goes to show, they've got emotional responses to the whole situation with him, they aren't happy to be proven right to have been suspicious. And I just love that.

patricianandclerk answered:

It’s interesting because like, I completely understand the instinct to cut off all empathy with the angels because of their like, more violent tendencies in places, and particularly when it comes to the actual trial thing, later, but like.

The thing I find super engaging about the forces of Hell and Heaven, as presented in the television series, is that they’re so plainly individuals with their own unique personalities, loyalties, and motivations. Unlike the book, where Heaven is mostly presented as an uncaring Host, a sort of vague embodiment of cold uncaring, and where Hell is mostly the same, with Hastur and Ligur kind of serving as like, a vague pair of henchmen to further Hell’s desires, like…

We see more of them. We watch them. We see their little quirks.

Ligur saying, “Nice sofa,” on the Daytime couch. The four of Hell’s main denizen boredly watching Crowley giving a too-enthused presentation, and Hastur actually being invested enough to ask a question. Hastur overreacts, he screams, he yelps; Hastur doesn’t understand most humour, and gets frustrated when faced with it; he hurts himself when it all gets too much. Ligur’s chameleon, matched to his eyes, is constantly changing colour; Ligur doesn’t get sarcasm but tries anyway; Ligur enjoys violence and says demons can’t trust one another, but shares his cigarettes with Hastur.

Dagon stands around with legs spread, hands on hips; leans into Beelzebub to whisper in their ear, moves slowly and deliberately; has an exact knowledge of What’s On File. And Beelzebub! Beelzebub is cold, and quiet, and severe, and they buzz when they talk, but we see other things, too - we see the netting on their vest and on their feet, their fucking WWII medal in pride of place, we see them let Gabriel do the talking, only jumping in to add to what he’s saying, and then Gabriel defers to them. Like? This is one of the big things about the two of them being two parts of the same organisation to me - they don’t act like the leaders of two armies. They seem like bosses of rival departments who both just really don’t get their own jobs sometimes, and wish it were a bit fucking simpler.

Beelzebub and Gabriel seem to have some kind of rapport with one another, which we know can’t have happened through backchannels, and so must have been conducted through some sort of above board thing - Gabriel and Beelzebub are open with one another about their frustrations, their feelings, about the pressures of their job. They tell one another, Christ, this is gonna be hard! They team up to shout at an eleven-year-old like the two most infuriating PTA parents you can imagine.

Gabriel loves suits, but doesn’t remember to undo the fucking stitches on the vents; he goes jogging in the park for no reason other than, presumably, he enjoys it; he claps after an angel has finished giving a report; he quotes the Sound of Music in conversation because God said She liked it; when Crowley says that God plays mindgames, he doesn’t look angry that Crowley rebelling, he looks betrayed and distressed, because he’s worried it might be true. Sandalphon is meant to be some vague thug as the “muscle” to Gabriel, but instead we see him hovering at Gabriel’s side, offering him helpful hints in conversation, affirming what he says; we see Gabriel and Sandalphon beam at one another when they exchange the unfunniest joke I’ve ever heard; we see Sandalphon’s little bow, the way he grins to show his grill; we see Sandalphon and Gabriel hold hands when Aziraphale/Crowley lets out that streak of flame.

We see Uriel, severe and cold, falter. We see Uriel get visibly frustrated when Aziraphale chooses not to keep up with everybody else; we see Uriel’s feint in the script, as if she’s going to stab Aziraphale, and then doesn’t; we see the way Uriel scrambles back from the flames, and touches the arms Gabriel throws out, as if to protect Sandalphon and Uriel both.

We see Michael, who studies conversations as if she’s looking at a chess board, who is quiet and contemplative when everyone else is talking, and only adds something when she has a question that nobody else is asking; who - compared to Uriel and Sandalphon, who are more blunt and severe, and to Gabriel, who is more blunt and stupid - is subtle, and almost gentle, when reminding Aziraphale of his duty to Heaven. We see her endless patience with the demons - with Ligur, who doesn’t understand sarcasm, and with Hastur, calling her “wank-wings” for no reason at all - and the fact that she’s so obviously used to them being like this, but not enough to actually complain.

Even the Metatron comes across less as the obviously biased but supposedly Unbiased Voice of God, and more as a doddering old fool that nobody talks to anymore. They are just. Out-of-touch, confused, impatient. And the same for the little demon, and the avocado demons, the background angels on their hoverboards - you get the impression that all these people have their own lives to be getting on with, that they have rich existences outside of the mischief of the main plot.

They all have their own unique costumes and looks and ways of holding themselves, but they all have their own personalities. And that means they have their own feelings.

What does each of them want? Power? Peace? Solidarity? Time to jog? Brackish water to swim in?

Like. Sure, they want to win the war. They want to win it for different reasons - Hell consider themselves revolutionaries who want to overthrow their oppressors; Heaven consider themselves the Good Guys, and think they need to win because it’s Good.

But as individuals, what do they want?

Because Michael doesn’t come across as wanting to cut Hell off at the knees. Michael comes across as wanting this over as quickly and efficiently as possible, and I don’t think she cares about victory - she comes across like she’s planning for a compromise. Gabriel says he’s uncompromising, but look at him with Beelzebub, look at their ease together. He says they need to fight, but when they do, will he be able to do it? Could he actually kill Beelzebub, if they were face-to-face? It’s one thing to kill Aziraphale, he betrayed them, but killing Beelzebub… They get on.

I’m not saying they wouldn’t still fight the war, I’m not saying one or the other side would win, but–

Would they be SATISFIED, if they won? Would they be happy, after? How would the losses feel on both sides? Because this wouldn’t be a matter of no feelings of loss. This doesn’t come across as two soulless armies that want to fight because They Fight - this comes across as 10 million angels and 10 million demons, who know that they HAVE to fight…

But do they want to?

Would they want to, if they knew it wasn’t an option? Some of them would… But how many? What percentage? How many would want to run away? How many angels, for that matter, actually hate the demons? How many demons actually hate the angels?

Who would these people - and they are people, we’ve watched them be people, no matter what else they’re supposed to be - be, if God hadn’t set them up like this, to watch them destroy each other?

We really don’t give Madame Tracy* enough credit for saving the world…

violetfaust

…when she wouldn’t let Aziraphale shoot (or try to shoot) Adam.

Because as usual through this history, Az and Crowley were dead wrong about what was needed to avert the Apocalypse. Ever since they’d failed to keep Adam from coming into his power, they’d thought the only way to stop it would be to remove him (ie. kill him), even though neither of them really wanted to do the deed themselves. But even assuming they COULD kill him, with the armies of Heaven ‘n’ Hell already revved up and waiting to go, the Apocalypse would still be on. And even assuming Aziraphale and Crowley managed to bullshit their way out of THAT one as they did, by invoking the Ineffable Plan…Satan? Apparently had nothing to stop him from coming up when he was pissed?

As most things do in the GO cosmology, ending the Apocalypse came down to someone having to make a choice.

Adam saved the world when he chose his human side, his friends and family, over his Satanic one. But he wouldn’t have been able or probably willing to make that choice if one altogether human woman hadn’t had compassion for him first, enough to defy an actual angel.

*Nee Marjorie Potts.

See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

We really don’t give Madame Tracy* enough credit for saving the world…