Latest Posts by mike-the-nike - Page 2

Back on the bench

And again, and again…

This is Aziraphale. He like his personal space.

This is Crowley. He also likes Aziraphale's personal space.

the angel and demon on the shoulder symbolism oh im sick

I love dragons waaaay too much. Also creatures with skull faces. Also CoD. :)

sunshine soap zine crashed and burned so here's one of pieces from it! dragon ghost protecting his favorite treasure from the hoard

more of the boys

👋🏼 That Good 🥰

Sometimes an angel just has to take advantage of his spouse's gentle claws, am I right

(this is December's Patreon sticker! Join the Galaxy Voyager tier if you'd like one!)

Patreon

look at you, you're gorgeous!

Guys, I got sick :(

I sickie boi 🤒 Prolly not gonna post for a few days, and if I repost there might not be any words (despite how bad I want to put them there) also my cat is yelling at me so I can’t type as much as I wanted to

Alr bye

I support and shall join. My enemies shall be VANQUISHED!!! ✊✊✊

pioneering something called "gritted teeth optimism" where everything is gonna turn out okay even if i have to bite and claw and gnash my way through it

Can we please take one sec to appreciate how excited Aziraphale is in this moment?

He fiddles with his fingers, he breathes deep and fast,

he doesn't listen to a single fucking word Crowley is saying to him and his eyes move fast from right to left…

How can A-N-Y-O-N-E say that this little baby is not in love?

HOW?

HUH?

(... Michael Sheen and his acting, ladies and gentlemen 😗🤌 )

This was at the bottom of a very well-written (smut 👀) AziraCrow fanfic (I would link it but I have no idea how and I forgot the name :( ) and I thought it was really funny

It was one where they were both on the run after Azi had become the archangel of Heaven and kidnapped and adopted Jesus?? Idk but it was GERY CERY VERY good and Crowley froze time and they banged :3

OH MY GODDDDD THIS IS SO GOOD PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ THIS @sapphic-bats IS SUCH A GOOD WRITER GHHAHHH YUMMY I ATE IT UP THRRRICE

Warlock asks Nanny about it once.

She’s cutting apples for him, just the way he likes, and he’s gazing out of the window at the lush, green gardens that his mother so proudly upholds. Among the waxy leaves and spindly saplings, Brother Francis tends to the flora carefully, though Warlock’s quite sure he’s just taking certain leaves between his finger and his thumb, and studying them closely. But what did Warlock know about gardening?

He notices Nanny looking out those windows, too. Though she always gazes and stares with a deep intent, as if she only cares when she does, and it so happens that she never looks upon the garden empty.

What was that funny thing Nanny and Brother Francis had taught him? The thing that Nanny discouraged, to which Brother Francis promoted quite devoutly?

“Nanny, have you ever been married?”

Warlock knows what marriage is. After all, his parents are married, if you can call it that. They married, once, out of love. But it’s since faded. It’s more traditional, now. Out of convenience and a general apathy to trying again.

Nanny’s quick hand stills, blade edge flat against the cutting board. With her back turned to the young boy, he cannot make out her expression. He never can, what with her poised shades she wears pointedly upon her nose. But she speaks soon again.

“No,” she replies, simply.

Warlock considers this. “Do you ever want to be?”

Nanny, who had taken up the cutting again, pauses once more. She sets the knife against the board and tilts her chin towards Warlock. “Wherever have you learned such personal questions, dear?”

She’s not refusing to answer him. She never has. She just asks in true curiosity, and perhaps a slight avoidance. But Warlock’s eight, now, and he knows how to navigate her tricks.

“Where do you think?”

At that, she pauses, lips pursed with their consistent purple tint. The lipstick she wears, that faintly stains Warlock’s forehead when she kisses him goodnight and tucks him in after a bedtime story: often about a garden, or a bird that chirped too loudly, and was cast down to the ground by the other birds. One who became the kind bird of the grounds, and took in other reject birds that had fallen similarly.

She considers his answer a moment more, satisfied with the obvious influence she’s had on him. She turns back to the apple slices.

“Perhaps,” she answers.

There is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t mind, he’s grown up with Nanny at his side, and has become quite fond of the silence. It is where thoughts are made, she said once.

She finishes cutting the apples, and plates the sweet snack to serve to the boy. “What troubles you, dear? You seem awfully curious, all of the sudden.”

Not that she minds. Nanny never rejects curiosity.

“Nothing’s wrong, Nanny, it’s just—” he pauses, considers his next words and how to place them. “You look at Brother Francis a lot, and—”

Nanny interrupts him after an audible, suspicious gulp. “Who?”

He frowns, eyes boring into the back of her head. “You know Brother Francis.”

She seems quite comically nervous, like she’s pressed a wax-seal act over her true thoughts. “Oh, yes,” she decides, too much breath coming with her words. “The gardener.”

“You like him, Nanny.”

She turns, abruptly. “I most certainly do not!” Her voice comes out a tad shrill, though perhaps it’s just outrage and scandal.

Warlock narrows his eyes, perplexed. “But you look at him all of the time.”

“When has that ever had anything to do with- with love?” She struggles with the word.

The boy shrugs. “Mum and Dad don’t look at each other,” Warlock observes. “But Brother Francis looks for you, too.”

Nanny’s mouth, ready with a retort, or perhaps a counter-argument, flicks towards a different shape. One that might be, he does? Or perhaps Warlock is mistaken. She pauses, lips pursed again, and sets her teeth.

“I’m sure he does, love.”

The plate is set before him, and Warlock soon forgets his questions. He never asks Nanny again.

But he’s reminded of it when her eyes, barely visible in the light, flick towards the window into the dazzling garden.

Years later, Warlock is nearly sixteen, and has since let the thoughts from half his lifetime ago fade. They never die, just sort of… wait. Wait to be plucked again, notes of memory leaping from their tinny strings. Like a harp.

His mother takes him into town. Soho, where he has no interest in seeing, but his mother so desperately needs a new vinyl, a coffee, and though she never says it: a moment to get away from the house, or more specifically, her husband within it.

She agrees to let him wander. She trusts him, for all she hasn’t before. And perhaps, she says, the fresh, un-televised air could do him some good.

He’s only taken two steps out of the coffee shop, where his mother remains to await her tea, before he almost runs smack into two pedestrians, arm in arm. He takes a surprised jump back, tongue set with an angry scolding, when he gets a good look at them from behind.

“Nanny?”

They both freeze in unison, as if they both know the name, and the voice that has conjured it forth once more for the first time in five years. Warlock notices something else.

“Brother Francis?” He prods, shocked. “Izzat you?”

Both of the two now turn, and everything around the three fades into blurring colors and churning noises.

Warlock would be a rotten liar if he had said he hadn’t missed them dearly. He would also be a lousy boy if he didn’t recognize them by the backs of their heads alone, he thinks. Because he would know them anywhere. They’d always done a much better job at raising him than his own parents.

They both look different now. Brother Francis seems to have had dental work done, and has cleaned up quite nicely. Nanny, though, appears to have changed her style completely. Her- his? Their? Who knows. But she still sports a fine pair of shades upon the bridge of her nose.

The pair seem to stutter, splutter with a little awestruck surprise. It’s as if they’d never expected to see him again.

“Oh- Warlock,” Nanny Ashtoreth begins, feigning a cool-headed surprise. “How good to see you.”

She sounds different too. Less of a high strain on her voice, more natural.

But Warlock seems to finally feel a gear shift, and a puzzle piece clicks into place. He glances down to the space between the two, where their arms are linked.

In his dumbfounded state, he feels a smile split the trance.

They both see it at the same time, chins tilting to follow his gaze. When they catch where his eyes are, their stares mingle together in concern. It’s a look that wonders aloud whether or not they should be worried, or blatant.

Warlock looks back up to their faces. “I see now why you two left,” he adds, grinning wider.

He can’t help it. He was right all along.

Warlock remembers something, then. It takes all of his power not to burst out into a triumphant laugh.

“I’m sure he does,” he says, slyly.

Nanny’s eyes, illuminated from behind with daylight, widen. She remembers, too. Of course she does.

And she bites back a twinning smile.

Wanna be mutualls?? Mustaul pls🥺🥺🥺

Of course 🥰🥰

Stop putting so much Aziraphale and Crowley on my page just because I follow you 😠

No 😈 I post what I like, and I mainly repost to look back at it later bc my phone has NO storage. You should see all the slimecicle stuff I get because of Mikasaakerman 😭

The fact that Joy just isn’t even there

Edit: OH MY GOD BILDAD THE SHUITE IS EMBARASSMENT 🤣🤣🤣🤣😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I watched Inside Out 2 the other day xd

I LAUGHED SO HARD I COULDN’T BREATHE I WAS SLAPPING MY KNEE AND EVERYTHING WTFFFFFF

I feel like we often forget that Crowley's clothes are technically not real

aka, how this scene shouldve went

EHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE I LOVE IT MMMMMMMM OMNOMITTYNOM I C O N S U M AND A T T A C C ILOVEYOUILOVEYOUILOVEYOUILOVEYOU

Bonus:

more clothes swap stuff

@hg-aneh you need to be put somewhere where you’ll never be stressed or unhappy and you’ll always be very very happy and have everything you love because you bring genuinely so much joy into my life with these, I read them five times each out loud.

PDA more like [REDACTED]

… 😳👀 ……………………

nasty

I LAUGHED SO HARD WHAT THE HELL

youtuber x streamer AU:

Aziraphale tries Tiktok LIVE edition

there's a very thin line between bodyguard boyfriend and trophy wife and Crowley is balancing on it like a goddamn funambulist

I think Victorian Crowley would be proud of David

I cannot tickety boo under these conditions

Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe

Good omens Wolf

Better keep out, Crowley is not in a good mood. --- I started this art with the idea of devotion, yet it somehow ended up turning into possessiveness in the process.

@goodomensafterdark

Happy Valentine's! 💖🥂

Remember the extinguisher for your demon husband!

noooooooo Aziraphale don't turn around you won't survive the cunt this diva is serving