#Aziraphale swearing

[brainwormcity]

David Tennant doesn't know how to half-ass a kiss. If/when we finally get a good kiss between Crowley and Aziraphale, I suspect I will be passing away from the passion of it. He just puts his whole David Tennussy into every kiss.

[cesiscribbles]

Astra the little duckie~

[huang-er-jiejie]

i. i just realised something about the kiss.

the way when aziraphale puts both of his hands on crowley's back, you can see them kinda shift so aziraphale isn't leaning. he held onto crowley for stability, and leaned in. pushed closer to him. he leaned forward. anyone ever says he didn't want the kiss im going to hunt you down because HE HELD CLOSE!!! HE KISSED BACK!!!!

EDIT: also im like WELL aware he kissed back i was even when i first watched it like its not a big revelation, its just that SOME people☠️ on TIKTOK☠️ KEEP SAYING HE WAS DISGUSTED BY THE KISS???? like i swear some people are watching a different show entirely

[veil-of-lament]

devotion

--

[nortism]

i’ll be honest, i’m not 100% sure stede has canonically said ‘jolly good’ but he has the right energy

[tagerrkix]

WHERE IS HE D:

(sorry for deleting and posting this again 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️ one tiny insignificant thing was bothering me and when I edited it it wouldn't show on reblogs and that kinda made me go 😠😠😠)

[metalmiez]

Ready to rule the Heavenly Host

🖤Crowley’s Angel Disguise🖤

Well.

The latest photoshoots of David Tennant‘s inspired me to draw him as Crowley in that pose. Easy, simple.

But than, i thought:

Well, why don’t give him an angel disguise, inspired by the amazing fanfic „Are We Meant to Read the Footnotes?“ by @riathedreamer 🖤

Okay, so I designed an angel disguise. Still simple, but i thought it was missing some ✨spice✨

Which led me to play with lighting.

And HOLY CROW, I didn’t plan this Angel Disguise Crowley to become a crowing THIRST TRAP.

But well, here we are 😂

He‘s ready to rule the Heavenly Host 😏

[siriusly-the-best-bi]

guys the kiss was so important especially from a narrative and storytelling perspective because it was literally Crowley taking everything that's happened between them, every unsaid intention and every unspoken promise, and making it physical.

He's taking their arrangement and every other bullshit excuse they've ever used to hide how they feel about each other and throwing them out the window to put their feelings into an undeniable physical action that holds a lot of meaning to humans in order to be absolutely sure that Aziraphale knows exactly what he means when he says "we could have been Us." He wants to be absolutely sure that there are no misunderstandings between them and know that Azirphale will be committing to this decision with absolute reassurance that he's been understood and rejected anyway.

he's taking a human action with so much meaning and so much importance, and he's using it as a way to desperately make Aziraphale completely and undeniably aware of what he's stating. No more charades and no more lies or cover-ups. There's no denying this thing between them now, and Crowley did it the human way. Because he and Aziraphale love humanity and it's everything to them in their own ways.

There's a reason we saw a kiss between Crowley and Aziraphale, and not Gabriel and Beelzebub, despite them both being undeniable foils.

and really if you just think about that isn't it so god damned beautiful?

[sentientsky]

this is how the bildad minisode went, right?

[noodles-and-tea]

Tragic bbc boys

[aduckwithears]

Ok when Michael and David dye their hair again and we lose our minds? But it’s also the LAST time they’ll step into the roles and we lose our minds about that too? What then??

[alwaystuesday]

The window to [Aziraphale's] soul

A few colour studies to play with expression and colour combos. Fun fact - I generally dont use a lot of black when drawing with coloured pencil. I find it fun to mess around with other ways to show shadow and light

Inprnt | kofi

[dyke-will-graham]

Oh! I love that one ship...

You know the one with the repressed bisexual 80's leather wearing charmer with daddy issues and a million dollar smile and the autistic repressed gay twink who wears vaguely vintage clothing with sassy mannerisms and avoidance issues!

(the game here is guess what ship im talking about)

[mx-anthony-janthony-crowley]

DID HE STYLE HIS HAIR LIKE CROWLEY'S?????????

[ladyfarona]

"When your wily demon makes Trouble™ and you aren't sure how many Amens™ you have left in you for this shit"

Crowley version here!

[actual-changeling]

"It would have been you."

It's raining.

Of course, it's raining.

A soft, constant drizzle leaving his hair a damp, curly mess that falls into his face and clings to his skin. Even though the cold is slowly seeping into his clothes, Crowley stops and turns around. Condensation is collecting on the inside of his shades where his breath drifts up, warm and too fast, and even if it hadn't been late at night, if the street hadn't been empty, he would have still taken them off.

Aziraphale is licking rain drops from his lips and blinking with dark, heavy lashes.

"What?"

His voice is rough, almost drowned out by the noise of rain hitting the pavement, collecting in small puddles around his feet.

"If it had been a choice, a real one, it would have been you."

The world did not end, questions were answered, apologies spoken, but their last conversation before everything went to shit is still a sharp splinter lodged in his chest, cutting him open more and more with every heartbeat. All of the fears he had left unsaid, the viscous doubt pooling in his lungs and weighing down his breaths—the truth might tip the scales and finally destroy him, and yet he cannot bring himself to stop Aziraphale from talking.

"It has always been you, Crowley. You must know that."

"I don't."

Bitterness laces his voice despite his best intentions, a drop of oil tainting an entire river, six thousand years of history, and it hurts because it's the truth, because they both wish it wasn't.

He doesn't know, couldn't know, because Aziraphale always needed him to stop them, to step back when they got too close. Every single time he had tried to push, gone too bloody fast, the angel had recoiled, scared for him, scared for the both of them. Crowley knows, and at the same time, he doesn't, because he still has hope and there is nothing more dangerous than allowing it to bloom; it's small, withered, brittle, on the verge of death and has been for centuries.

(It's still there, though. It keeps fighting, keeps trying. Keeps hoping.)

They're drenched to the bone, wet and pathetic, and there is nothing romantic about any of it when Aziraphale retraces his steps and closes the distance between them; there is, however, love.

There has always been love, whether they could admit it or not.

"I'm sorry. For- for everything, for making you think that I don't care about you."

"Angel, don't lie-"

"I'm not lying."

Crowley stares, frozen to the spot when Aziraphale presses cold, wet palms to his cheeks, his breath a ghost of warmth on his skin. This is too much, too close to 'our side', and if he didn't know better (does he know better? does he really?) he would think that he is about to—

"I'm not lying," he whispers, broken, truthful, "I love you. I won't leave you."

The rain stings in his eyes, masking the tears—hot and wistful—meeting Aziraphale's skin where it is touching his.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, angel."

His voice cracks and so does his heart, and he can feel the walls they have built together crumbling to dust under their feet. It's not real, it can't be real, and yet the truth is shimmering in storm-blue eyes he has been carrying with him since the moment he first put stars into the sky.

"It's you, always has been, always will be. If you let me."

Crowley kisses him as he falls apart, barely healed fractures reopening as his essence spills over and out, drowning him in please, please be real, please let us have this, please, God.

Just this once.

Aziraphale holds his face so incredibly gently, as if it's something worth keeping, something to protect, something he is afraid to lose. When the ground doesn't open up and swallow them whole, when the sky doesn't reach for them with greedy hands, he allows himself to seize Aziraphale's face in turn, cupping his jaw and kissing the rain drops off his lips, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, tasting his tears when they begin to fall.

"It's always been you. God, of course I will let you."

Sapphire blue eyes blink up at him, a smile pressed against his lips, a smile he can feel, a smile that is for him, them.

"Perhaps you could let me somewhere less, ah, sopping wet?"

"I was right, though. It's the rain that did it."

Aziraphale laughs, bright and happy, and infectious enough to make Crowley laugh too, and grabs his hand to pull him back towards the bookshop - back home.