I Find It Fascinating That They Let Legolas Go On The Journey, Because Speaking In Terms Of Politics,

Aziraphale's favorite color is yellow

I feel like as a collective we don't talk enough about Aziraphale's and Crowley's periodic "Ah, no Paperwork !!" whenever they successfully avoid discorporation [or should I say, when they avoid the bullet]

It’s obviously not paperwork they care about; I swear every single time one of them says this, it practically means "I am so glad you are not dead, because I love living here [on Earth] with you, it would never ever be the same without you"

Crow Time - Statue 1

infatuation makes your heart race love is quiet. love sets you at ease.

and because most of my pieces are mental screenshots of little scenes in my head, here's the scene:

Crowley was tugged into consciousness bit by bit. The afternoon light slowly filtered in, as well as the hum of music from the other room and the weird angle his neck was at. He was warm and content and wanted to sink back into his nap, but the threads of sleep fluttered away the more he tried. Finally, he took a deeper breath, shifting in the armchair, and cracked an eye open just a sliver. There he was, the angel, sitting at his desk. Had hardly noticed Crowley was awake, engulfed in his task of retouching a damaged page. Looking at his hands, Crowley became aware of the fuzzy warmth covering his own and peeked down to see a blanket tucked around his shoulders.

The feeling hit him so hard he let his head loll to the side, eyes closed. His chest tightened and he just…buckled. Finally came undone under the weight of his love for Aziraphale. Its inexorable, steadfast pull which he had been pushing back against for millennia, it had finally caught him off guard, sleepy and vulnerable and so tired from holding back, from refusing to name it. It was a quiet surrender. Crowley looked back at Aziraphale with the understanding of a man meeting his end and embracing it.

Perhaps he could gently pull the blanket to the side and get up. Perhaps he could cross the few steps to the desk and place a freshly made cup of tea to Aziraphale’s right. Perhaps he would hold his gaze, for longer than needed to answer “Don’t mention it”. Perhaps he would ask him if he would like a scone with that. Perhaps Aziraphale would understand that this was not about the scone at all. And yet, what Crowley was asking of him was also exactly about scones. And tea. And quiet afternoons together. Perhaps the angel would finally put down his sword, too, and the world would let out a breath it had been holding for millennia.

the soulmate to this piece, i guess.

let's be honest, how else did we think he got all those fire extinguishers?

Tis but thy name that is my enemy.

I agree, strike down those whO DONT LEAVE ME BE

Leave Me Alone | Run by Aaron J Groen

You are perfectly you. Fantabulous is an example

I hate how I am.

I hate that I don't truly know how to be a friend. I don't know how to reply to anything. I don't know when to be grown up, or when to have fun. I get overwhelmed. I fidget too much. I talk too much or too little. I'm annoying. I don't get it. I don't know. I dont I don't I'm not I hate

Why are friendships so hard

Why are they full of pain and agony

Why can you be having a perfectly normal conversation with someone you've been friends with for so so so long one day

And then the next, they don't even talk to you? And you blame yourself. Because it's always your fault. You're bad at this. You can't make friends. You can't keep friends. They didn't like you. It's your fault

I hate how I am. Why am I so emotional? Why am I so weird? Why do I have to be so antisocial? Why don't I interact with people like a normal person? Why do I get so obsessed with stupid things nobody cares about? Why can I not sleep? Why do the gods hate me in particular so much

I sound selfish

I don't mean to sound selfish

I'm sorry

I'm just tired.

Tired of trying to figure out who I am and why I am.

Tired of trying to please everybody.

Tired of giving the same responses to everything because I don't know how to be a friend or how to respond any other way.

Tired of feeling like a failure.

Tired of trying to be normal.

Tired or never knowing how to act. What to say. Where to go. What to look like.

I'm just tired

how to ask the demon you've been smitten over for 6000 years to dance: an angel's guide

bonus: