Be More Like Aziraphale.

I think it's time to reread Slow Show again, even for the fourth time.

This is such a sweet idea! And the art!! Love love love ♥️

After the NotPocalypse, Crowley grows birds of paradise. He claims it's because he just digs their resemblance to his current hairstyle, but Aziraphale read in a book once that they symbolise joy, freedom, and liberty. And whenever the angel sees them, he feels flashes of Crowley's love.

liberty (noun):

1. the state of being free within society from oppressive restrictions imposed by authority on one's way of life, behavior, or political views.

2. the power or scope to act as one pleases.

4:00 pm

This Crowley-staring-into-stars-on-his-ship-called-Bentley idea was haunting me for last days.

He's a pirate, a very bad pirate, who saves drowning kids and falling angels from the sea. And his stars will always lead him on the sail.

(Anathema included, because she is a witch AND pirate girl and nobody can change my mind)

(what does the wheel look like omg)

I hope you all had Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! ^^ I totally forget to post art for another chapter of It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine, so sorry! As readers probably know, our bois couldn't keep their hands off each other for 5 minutes at a time, but nobody wasn’t surprised (me neither). What dorks they are and thanks God the kids don’t resemble their fathers/uncles and are much more smarter then them.

Warm up folks!

So as part of my push to fill the world with soft fluff while we all need it, @sparkkeyper requested Aziraphale warming up a cold Crowley. And, well, things got a little out of hand with this bit of hurt/comfort. Also fills the @bingokisses prompt for “Brush of Lips, Almost-There Kiss/Bridal Carry” so that’s exciting!

Not clearly established, but this fic is just-barely-pre Arrangement.

“If that’s the way you feel,” Aziraphale said, hand on the door to his one-room hut, “then I suggest you leave, and find some other angel to bother with your nonsense.

“Good! Maybe I can find one who isn’t a self-righteous prick.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” the apology dripped with sarcasm, “that I choose not to blindly trust a devious…manipulative…snake.”

The words hit like a physical blow. Crowley sucked in a breath, tasting a hint of frost in the late-autumn air. “Fine,” he growled, turning away. He’d have to walk through the night to get back to London, but at just that moment he felt angry enough to march all the way to China and back. “Good riddance,” he snapped from the gate around the little garden, but Aziraphale had already shut the door.

–

Keep reading

As of today 14028 Aziraphale/Crowley fanfics have been posted on ao3 since the release of season two

Which means that on average 77.5 fanfics are being published per day

That’s 3.23 fanfics per hour

0.05 fanfics per minute

So in conclusion:

Every twenty minutes a new Aziraphale/Crowley fanfic is being written

Can two friends sleep together and still love each other in the morning? Two long-time acquaintances Crowley and Aziraphale grapple with this question over a 12 years and 3 months. When Harry met Sally/Good Omens crossover soon in AO3! Another poster, this time collab with @scullyphile / @brenna for the @do-it-with-style-events Silver Screen Bang!

Bless her! She's my hero 🙏

Met an old teacher today and we got talking about ‘the good old times’ and ten minutes into the conversation I jokingly said the one regret I have from middle school is that I never won anything at her magnificent tombolas? Because, like, she used to hold this game about once a month so we’d learn the numbers in French and it was never big prizes, but as a 12-yo I desperately craved them - a cactus-shaped eraser, a bright blue notebook with slightly larger-than-usual squares, a set of coloured pens - and never ever got a single one of them. 

(Actually spent a good few months thinking I was genetically unlucky and researching ancient family curses with my grandma.) 

So today I don’t know what I was hoping for - nothing, really?

(I mean, that part of me that’s still twelve was probably expecting this sweet old woman to have a set of glitter stickers in her purse and just go ‘You know what, you’re right - I’ve been saving this one for you all these years, here you go’ but I’m a solidly rational person and I know that’s stupid.)

No, I thought we’d just laugh and it would be a good shared memory and that would be it. Instead, my teacher got flustered and a bit embarrassed and explained the game was rigged. It was never about learning French at all. She’d just noticed some kids couldn’t afford even basic stationery, so she’d buy a few half-fancy items every month with her own money just for them. She didn’t want them to feel different or left out. And obviously the way she used to walk around in the classroom, looking over our shoulders - it wasn’t to prevent cheating. It was because she was cheating herself, wanting to see which number a particular child needed to get a Minnie Mouse pencil case.

Guys - the world is fucked up, but so many people out there are just good and kind and humbly heroic it honestly gives me hope. 

It’ll be alright, you’ll see.

How does reading about the same two fuckers falling in love over and over again make a person so goddamn happy.