#angel markings

[actual-changeling]

i cannot resist a piece of good, painful angst, so have a little something inspired by this post by @quoththemaiden and the tags i left on it

-

Aziraphale returns to heaven in a haze of heartbreak and fear, his lips still tingling with Crowley's kiss, his fingers twitching with the urge to reach for him. The white sterility welcoming him only encourages his mind to drift further, allowing him to tune out the Metatron's words and focus on simply setting one foot in front of the other. If heaven has not changed in the last few thousand years, and he knows very well that it hasn't, there will be more than enough paperwork detailing anything and everything he is being told.

"Any questions, Aziraphale?"

They have stopped in the middle of a long, empty corridor, his eyes stinging with the bleach-dry air, and Aziraphale blinks, the smile on his face never wavering; it is a mask he knows he will not be able to drop for quite some time.

"Do I have an office?"

"You can make yourself one if you deem it necessary. I will leave you to it, then."

With a small flash of light, he is gone, and Aziraphale is alone. Right.

A few hours later, he has an office no miracle in the world could make cosy, enough paperwork to last him an eternity, and a persistent itch in his left hand. It is more irritating than bothersome, an anchor keeping him from floating away into the land of celestial regulations and legal frameworks, and he is trying (and failing) to keep himself from thinking about Crowley.

He needs him to deal with this, that much is clear without knowing anything at all about how exactly the second coming is going to transpire, but for the first time in six thousand years, Aziraphale finds himself wondering if Crowley will be waiting for him when he reaches out.

Absently, he scratches the back of his left hand, the itching seemingly working its way to the surface, and picks up the next folder.

'Re: The matter of opening a direct communication line between the Department of Miracle Accounting and the Department of Miracle Archiving.'

"You'd assume they'd done that ages ago," he murmurs, opening it with a sigh and squeezing his eyes shut when he sees the first document dates back to 3076 BC. A sudden wave of sympathy for Gabriel washes through him, which disappears rather quickly when he remembers he is probably having the time of his life on Alpha Centauri.

(Even if this all ends up in a puddle of burning goo we can-- go off together.)

(Go off together?)

Aziraphale slams the folder shut and pushes it to the side, creating a new 'unimportant/for later' pile since the other one is already structurally unsound and he'd rather not have to reorganize it when it inevitably collapses under its own weight.

He scrubs a hand down his face (I could always rely on you) and forces himself to take a deep, steadying breath (You could always rely on me) before reaching for the next one, halting when a shimmer of gold draws his attention.

(And I would like to spend-)

On his left hand, in the exact spot where the itch is… was Aziraphale corrects himself, and in its place, curled around his ring finger and weaving its way towards his wrist, is a golden snake. No, not a snake, he slowly realizes, it's Crowley's snake in all its glory, uncurled and with wide open, unblinking eyes, staring up at him.

"Fuck," he breathes, his right hand rapidly furling and unfurling. After not spending more than an hour or two in heaven at a time for millennia, he had completely forgotten about his angelic markings, which had looked very different before Eden. The exact images are hazy, washed out by time and apparently a fundamental change in his essence, because the snake lazily sliding around his wrist and closing its eyes as if to nap is both new and strangely familiar.

(Listen. Do you hear that?)

Tremors run through his body, fine and yet strong enough to keep him from opening the file, from reading, thinking, planning, his mind filled with fire-red hair and golden eyes and the taste of love on his tongue.

(I don't hear anything.)

Aziraphale cradles his marked hand against his chest, pressing his knuckles to his lips and trying to recall the few seconds during which he had felt whole. Happy.

(That's the point. No nightingales.)

The snake hisses quietly, or maybe he is already starting to lose his sanity, and its glittering scales provide what little comfort he can access in heaven, missing the white noise of London, the dusty quiet of his bookshop, missing Crowley, Crowley, Crowley.

[sunriseybee]

a capital of dreamers

[crismakesstuff]

cast out of paradise

[samsketchbook]

[justjensenanddean]

Jensen Ackles in Demand: Soldier Boy Will Return For Final Season of THE BOYS

Looks like "Countdown" will start filming in September, in Los Angeles.

[alienssstufff]

deeply obsessed with ur skizz design esp the tattoos,, ever since i saw them they've been on my mind n i go back to look at them every couple days LOL srsly very very very cool !!!!

if u ever happen to make a like,,, full body ref for his tattoos i would love to see it ! but yeah... so cool man... keep it up u bloody legend

go nuts 👍

[puppyeared]

(guy who has never played cotl) haha au time

[the-worm-jester]

I love the outfits from the 2004 alpha of Pathologic

They're incredible. Especially Andrey's

[tumbler-dot-com-user]

clawing at the walls mouth frothing eyes bloodshot waiting for that fanart reaction video seawatt said he and evbo were going to make

[the-artist-grimm]

Wow you guys really wanted the narilamb spice-so behold the doodle stash! (Again it's kinda just fluff but it is obvious what these idiots are doing lol)

Also a little spicier one under the cut~

(Crownie's already long left the temple after leaving a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door XD)

[andr0nap]

is it a bird? is it a plane? its interdimensional eldritch flying flora!

[shootingthe-stars]

honeymooning <3

[depravedangelbaby]

♡ I'm such a pretty canvas ♡

[sictransitgloriamvndi]

[caterpie]

On Your Mark (1995)

[bipolarnimedvjed]

he has no idea :3