Angels, Fallen Or Otherwise

they drinkin rainbow koolaid..

fuck it have some reyrose (TROS do not interact)

Aziraphale held up the sword. There was a whoomph as it suddenly flamed like a bar of magnesium. “Once you’ve learned how to do it, you never forget,” he said. He smiled at Crowley. “I’d just like to say,” he said, “if we don’t get out of this, that… I’ll have known, deep down inside, that there was a spark of goodness in you.” “That’s right,” said Crowley bitterly. “Make my day.” Aziraphale held out his hand.  “Nice knowing you,” he said. Crowley took it. “Here’s to the next time,” he said. “And… Aziraphale?” “Yes.” “Just remember I’ll have known that, deep down inside, you were just enough of a bastard to be worth liking.“  

“Good Omens” by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman 

Sabine

black and white

art tag // commission info

👀.

ineffable husbands ♥

that ‘oh’ moment

i’ve been on a parov stelar binge

The engagement, when it happens, is mostly an accident.

They’re at Newt and Anathema’s wedding, pleasantly tipsy on elderflower wine—normally too sweet for Crowley’s taste, but it’s a wedding, seems bad form to be picky. Besides, Aziraphale says it pairs nicely with dessert. Crowley’s lost in thought, bemusedly watching the Them attempt to teach Newt how to dance, smiling abstractly as Aziraphale prattles cheerfully beside him.

He’s in that agreeable state of mind where he hums or nods approvingly at the spaces Aziraphale leaves in his monologue, not so much taking things in as stashing them in his mental inbox to read later. In truth he’s deeply involved in a fantasy where Aziraphale is his date to this wedding, instead of his platonic plus one, and that they held hands during the ceremony and might play footsie under the table once they’ve had another glass or two. So it’s probably no surprise what happens next.

“Have you ever thought about it? Getting married, I mean.”

In his right mind, or in his sober mind, or perhaps even in a mind drunk on something less sweet, Crowley would recognize the question as abstract. But here, surrounded by so much love even Crowley can feel it, with Aziraphale next to him and a third—fifth?—bottle of elderflower wine half-empty on the table between them, with visions of the life they could have together dancing before his eyes, Crowley makes a considering noise and his mouth opens automatically without input from his brain. “Might as well, really. No one else I’d rather spend eternity with.”

There’s a clatter as Aziraphale’s dessert fork hits the plate, then the table, then the floor. All at once reality reasserts itself.

Crowley swallows. He wants nothing more than to run out into the night, possibly with the rest of that bottle for company. Instead he turns and meets Aziraphale’s gaze.

Aziraphale’s cheeks are pink with more than just the wine, his eyes bright with that look he gets, sometimes, the one Crowley knows his mirror more often than not. The sunglasses serve more than one purpose. He doesn’t look at all upset, Crowley realizes. He looks—he looks—

He takes Crowley’s hand under the table, perhaps because for once, he’s run out of words.

Warmth rushes through Crowley’s body, settling in his chest, his face, the soles of his feet. He clears his throat. “Assuming that’s not going too fast for you, angel.”

“Do you know,” Aziraphale says, interlacing their fingers, “I rather think I can keep up.” He pauses, and his eyes get kind of sly, and G—Sat—Someone, Crowley loves him. “As long as you promise to help with the paperwork.”

Two idiots off to save the world

Good Omens is a treasure and I am so glad it exists

[image description: drawing of crowley from good omens. he sits cross legged in a garden, surrounded by a variety of plants. he looks peacefully happy]

when they move to the south downs cottage,,, crowley goes all out on a garden centre (and aziraphale maybe persuades him to try a different route to his relationship with his green friends)

such a good night

I do not like arms