#i love my divorced husbands

[multistanninglifestyle]

”I could still take you”

[bookshopbentley]

“ aziraphale chose heaven over cr — “ shut UPPPP shut the fuck up aziraphale chose heaven over his own happiness THATS how selfless he is and if i have to read that one more time i’m throwing a tantrum

[idontmindifuforgetme]

libraries were literally created for lonely little girls who would then go on to become lonely fully grown women btw

[miss-americanbi]

gay people can never say “i love you” it’s always some incoherent shit like “you idiot. we could’ve been… us”.

[lineffability]

"Crowley."

Crowley froze, every atom of his body coming to a complete standstill. Aziraphale had appeared out of nowhere, just like that, and he felt like a fly in a spider's web, like he had just run against a glass door that he could not have seen. Oh, this was cruel. He did not turn around.

"Don't even use doors anymore?" He tried to keep his voice level, cold, unaffected. He failed considerably, but the message got across anyways.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale said, immediately flinching at the words. The first time they were seeing each other again, after-- after that, and his first words were I'm sorry and he was apologizing for not using a door? Aziraphale felt like swearing, but could not. "I thought you wouldn't open if I-- well. I thought this was easier. Like a bandaid."

"Well, you were right. I wouldn't have." Steel was creeping into Crowley's voice, steel around his heart. With a forcing of limbs, he spun around, his gaze piercing through the armor of his sunglasses. Facing him.

"I need your help" Aziraphale said.

"What," Crowley said. He had possibly never put as much meaning into a single word. The glass door turned into a Great Wall. Aziraphale understood. But he was willing to climb.

The angel (oh, a true angel now, wasn't he--not his angel) fumbled, talking with his hands before his mouth even opened. Talking with his eyes, too, but they got lost in translation. Repelled by a black mirror.

"I know this is untoward. I know it's-- But Crowley, I don't have a lot of time."

"Nothing lasts forever, yeah," Crowley spat, hating himself the second the words left his lips. Unnecessary cruelty. Demonic, huh? Worse yet, Aziraphale accepted the verbal lashing. Don't forgive me, Crowley thought.

Crowley looked at him. He was still wearing his suit, there was tartan in it, but it had become polished, the worn edges returned to pristine, boring perfection. He looked prim. Proper. Perhaps this hurt most of all.

"Why are you here?"

Aziraphale glanced upwards. Then he looked intently at Crowley. I don't have much time. Right. He couldn't speak freely, Crowley realized. Of course he couldn't. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, what he had known would happen. His angel in chains. (Yet here he was. Here he was.)

"They don't know I'm here," Aziraphale mumbled, gesticulating weakly between them and Up. "I guess I can divert their attention now, for a bit. Comes with the new powers"--he shrugged helplessly--"but not for long. Crowley, do you know about-- about the-- what they're--"

"Armageddon 2.0? Sure."

There was an undecipherable look in Aziraphale's eyes. "Why didn't you-- well. It's not just. I mean it kind of is--it's. More than that. Crowley, I need you to do something for me."

"No."

"This is important." (This isn't about us.)

"I don't care." (There is no us anymore.)

"You do! You always have."

"Oh not this again," Crowley hissed. "You were an angel once. You can be forgiven. Shut up."

"That's not what I meant."

With two long, angry strides, Crowley closed the space between them. Menace, anger, hurt-- "Then what did you mean?" He spat the words. Like a weapon. (Then why was it a question?)

Aziraphale's face crumbled. He stood his ground nonetheless, not backing away. The angel's anger was less spiky, but it rose to meet Crowley's. It made his next words hit like bricks. "I mean that you love. I mean that you, Crowley, are the best person I know. I mean that I love you."

The words dropped like a lead balloon.

There was utter silence between them.

Why were they so close?

Why were his sunglasses so dark? Aziraphale saw only his own reflection. He couldn't bear that, and dropped his gaze. Oh, worse. There was his mouth, mere inches away.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley's lips, really really looked, and there was nothing more, now that he knew about the feeling of Crowley's lips and of his heart, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to kiss him. But he couldn't, he couldn't. Not like this. He needed the next time (he had to believe in a next time, in a time with Crowley, again)--the next time they kissed he needed it to be good and happy and an affirmation. He couldn't bear it otherwise. He would break entirely. He was sure of it.

But still, still-- Crowley was so close. He could smell nothing but him. Think of nothing but him. That weakness again, that soft spot inside him he had never known how to hold down. And with it, Want reared its greedy head. Aziraphal leaned in ever so slightly, felt their noses touch-- and then used all his strength to move away, to pull back. It was not the right time. Not yet.

He looked past Crowley, who might have as well turned to a pillar of salt. Crowley, whose face was a mask he couldn't let slip. The air flickered between them.

There were tears in his eyes when he finally forced his gaze towards Crowley's face, a silent plead to not misunderstand. Please, please. But he couldn't expect that of him. He was pulling away again. But not because he wanted to. No, there was nothing he wanted more than to pull closer. There was nothing more he wanted than to talk to him, to truly talk, to explain and apologize and make amends, but he was bound by Duty and Rules and Watching Eyes more than he ever had been.

This was his rebellion: he lifted a hand, the ghost of a touch, fingertips against cheekbone. The memory of holding on. Of never wanting to let go. Crowley flinched without moving, a shiver of his lips. Aziraphale let his hand drop, briefly, to Crowley's chest, holding it over his human heart. It was beating just like his.

This was his successful magic trick, when it counted: he drew away, leaving a crack in Crowley's steel-clad heart, and a note in his chest pocket.

"I'm sorry. I need to go."

"Of course you do."

"Oh, Crowley. I--" But he did not finish the sentence, knew there was no proper way how. So he said, quietly, softly, "Trust me, please."

And he did. Crowley hated it, hated it so much, but he did, he did trust him despite it all. But it did not erase the hurt. The festering wound. Now what was he supposed to do with that?

With one last pointed look, Aziraphale vanished.

Crowley was alone.

His defenses lay shattered at his feet, and he slowly gathered them back up. He did not mend the cracks. (That's where the light had gotten in.) He cleared his throat. Tried to banish from his mind the look in Aziraphale's eyes, the memory of his lips and of his tears.

And failed considerably.

I love you.

(Touched his cheek, and then his chest, and faltered.)

[this fic is now also on ao3 and being continued there]

[demonir]

She did not understand the assignment

[linipik]

Good Omens S2 doodles

--Love like yours will surely come my way

[inheroes--wetrust]

iwtv s3 is going to be Peak Romance because its going to be all about the pining. which is. OBJECTIVELY. the best part of any relationship development. its going to be that one scene where lestat reaches for louis but he doesn't notice and leans forward times one billion.

every week i will be screaming at my tv for them to kiss. they will not do it. instead they will exchange loaded glances every fifteen seconds. lestat will slip up and call louis mon cher by accident and my head will quite literally explode. we will get a full episode of nothing but louis staring longingly at lestat on stage and yet every time lestat looks over louis is busy doing something else. one day louis will look at a random guy in exactly the wrong way at exactly the wrong time and lestat will snap and murder every single person louis has spoken to in the past month. louis will not make the connection and instead will ask daniel if he thinks that louis being around makes lestat revert back to a more volatile headspace and if he should leave. daniel will be able to escape to be psychosexually tortured by the most beautiful man on the planet but i will still be here, sitting in front of my screen, tearing my hair out because lestat and louis will say literally anything to each other besides i love you.

[sentientsky]

omg yeah i’d love to hang out! unfortunately these are my thinking about good omens hours! yeah all of them. mmhm every single hour. no breaks. for the foreseeable future. yeah.

[lezstat]

“i stand w my cancelled wife lestat/armand/etcetc” NO. WRONG. THE ONE TRUE CANCELLED WIFE HERE IS CLAUDIA !! AND MADELEINE IS STOOD THE FUCK UP. put some respect on her name !

[ronithesnail]

"you cant leave this bookshop" "nothing lasts forever" aziraphale already gave away multiple books just to dance with crowley sweetie he would give away the entire shop if it could maybe make you happy

[rumble-bee-art]

this apology dance better be at least two hours long and accompanied by full-sized symphony orchestra

[xxplastic-cubexx]

so like do you think they made the plastic wheelchair ALONGSIDE the plastic prison as a Just In Case situation, only after they realized charles was going to be a frequent visitor, or both as in because they knew charles was going to be the only person visiting him during planning they decided to make him a chair ahead of time

[nefertiti-fooling-fellow]

What if Aziraphale knew what kind of effect it would have when he offered to restore Crowley to full angelic status. What if Crowley walking away was what he wanted? What he needed to keep him safe? Aziraphale just never expected the kiss.

What if “Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death,” wasn’t just the name of a coffee shop, but also a threat? What if all of the lies we saw him told (Job’s children…The Miracle…), the performances we saw him put on (The Jane Austen ball…the Magician act) was all a lead up to his biggest lie yet? “You’re demons, you’re evil.”

What if that was what Aziraphale thought he needed to do to keep Crowley from putting himself in danger to “rescue” him one last time?

What if Aziraphale didn’t want to reform Heaven so much as he wanted to rip it up by the roots and tear it apart, so it can never hurt Crowley again?

What if he knew.

[actual-changeling]

okay but can we PLEASE allow crowley to have emotions? can we let him be angry, upset, bitter, frustrated, and NOT immediately want to forgive aziraphale? can we let him be a complex being with complex emotions and trauma who is allowed to be heartbroken over aziraphale choosing heaven instead of him?

yes, they love each other. yes, they both hurt each other in that final argument. yes, neither of them is completely wrong or right.

for six thousand years, crowley has done *everything* to accommodate aziraphale. he has swallowed his emotions, crossed his own boundaries, tried again and again to get aziraphale to listen to him so he can finally make him understand how the fall changed him and how deeply fucked up the entire heaven/hell system is. it is why i cannot see the apology dance seen as "cute" or "romantic" because it's crowley once again ignoring his emotions to save aziraphale from heaven and himself; he did NOTHING wrong! aziraphale should be the one apologizing, not crowley.

and while yes, aziraphale has been on his own journey and is struggling with his own trauma, he needs to start putting crowley before his personal comfort. he needs to stop expecting crowley to throw his feelings in the wind and come crawling back to him with an apology on his lips.

the final argument was crowley saying he's DONE doing that. he's done meeting aziraphale on his side, either they'll meet in the middle or not at all - and rightfully so. aziraphale hasn't been listening to him this season, he never has.

do you really think if crowley had given him the details of the trial in heaven, gabriel's trial, anything at all that aziraphale would have believed him? no! he wouldn't have! his entire schtick is finding increasingly insane explanations for the shit heaven pulls so it doesn't contradict his personal view of it.

their relationship has never been healthy, unconditional love is NOT healthy or good. it's simply not. crowley is allowed to have hard boundaries and conditions, he's allowed to not forgive him immediately (or at all, although we all know he eventually will). aziraphale is ALSO allowed to be upset. i know that we all want them to be together and happy, but trauma recovery and personal growth aren't that simple. they're both more than the relationship they have with each other.

[cisusnar]

A wip before I go to cry in my sleep