Mikan-28 - Sans Titre

Day 155 of posting Good Omens memes Everyday until Season 3

lesbian and queer fashion includes hijabs, niqabs, burqas, and other religious and cultural clothing. queer muslims, queer jewish people, queer people of color, should not have to choose between their faith and their presentation. they do not need to sacrifice their cultural clothing in order to satisfy western standards of queer gender presentation. butch and femme muslims, jewish people, and poc who wear niqabs, burqas, niqabs, yarmulkes, etc- are not “straying” from lesbian fashion or culture, they are adding to it and making it more rich and beautiful. all sapphics deserve to feel safe in their head coverings. if you’re a sapphic who wears head coverings/body coverings or cultural clothing of some sort, you are valuable and beautiful just as you are.

Sleight Of Hand - Chapter 1: The Pledge

@moonyinpisces and I proudly present Chapter 1 of “Sleight Of Hand”: The Pledge!

Read on Ao3 (with extra Comic pages!)

Early release of comic pages as well as sketches and uncensored Versions on my Patreon.

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“It’s our last night on Earth,” Crowley says, voice wrung together in chapped, rusted parts. “Six thousand years of this. Of never– of not getting to– *eurgh!”* Uncaring of the styling, Crowley runs frantic hands through his hair, mussing it up in tight, torturous fists. “Six thousand years. And it’s a bloody *photograph* that does us in.” 

His eyes are golden, molten in the warm, ambient light. The pulse at his long, taut neck is fluttering like a trapped bird, the skin there thin, delicate. “Hm,” Aziraphale says distractedly, without thinking too much of it. “I’d always thought it would’ve been what we’d got up to at Job’s.”

Crowley zeroes in on Aziraphale, at that point. All of this has been musings to himself, of attacks towards nobody in particular. Perhaps God. Most likely God. But now he’s not looking at God, and he’s looking at Aziraphale instead. It sets Aziraphale on edge, prickles the angelic sense at the back of his neck. It quickens his pulse, settles the heat of his body decidedly southward. But more than that, perhaps most of all; it makes Aziraphale be as reminded of Crowley’s human body as he is of his own, at this exact moment. 

The demon takes a step forward. Aziraphale, a stuttered step back. His fingers are curled into the top of his opposite sleeve, tips brushing the edge of the polaroid he’d nearly grabbed.

“Calm down, Crowley,” he says waveringly. 

“Calm *down?*” Crowley repeats quietly, dangerously. He’s looking Aziraphale in the eye, now. He’s looking nowhere else. 

Another step. Forward, back. Aziraphale licks his lips. 

“It’s all going to be alright, my dear boy,” he tries. He clears his throat, shifts his fingers further into his sleeve. “You see–”

He’s cut off. Quick as a flash, Crowley’s gripping him around the shoulders, shoves him back so his arse is pressed to the lip of the vanity, the lit-up mirror alighting him from behind. Aziraphale’s arms draw up around the demon’s shoulders in surprise. There’s nowhere else to go, no more steps to take. The look in Crowley’s eye speaks of a hunger all-too-familiar to Aziraphale. Reminiscent of meat, of basements, of languishing drunkenly at the end of another man’s Earth. Behind Crowley’s head, Aziraphale has the photograph clenched in one hand. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispers. 

“Don’t–” Crowley’s expression is fierce, desperate. “Don’t say *anything–*” 

Aziraphale opens his mouth to say something else.

*“Angel.”* Crowley makes a desperate sort of sound, and then their lips are pressed together, and Aziraphale freezes altogether. 

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Keep reading

Turns out I never drew the wallsmal scene, and I thought it high time that I corrected that mistake.

Happy 2024!

Hc that in Edinburgh when Aziraphale is like “Still, that was very kind of you” and Crowley’s like “Not kind. Off my head on laudanum. Not responsible for my actions” etc etc, Aziraphale was calling him kind in hopes he’d get pushed up against a wall again

I think that is why he does it always lmao like

the way he looks at him and leans in

bbg you’re so silly and down so bad oml

Istg he thinks he’s performing a proper temptation here what a silly goose

Even Neil ships David and Michael!

Crowley, clearly angry: I AM IN A BAD MOOD! So NOBODY TALK TO ME!! Aziraphale, pouting: Even me? Crowley, confused: What? No. Obviously, YOU can talk to me. Crowley, angry again: BUT NOBODY ELSE! I MEAN IT! LEAVE ME ALONE! Crowley, softly to Aziraphale: To reiterate, this does not apply to you, Angel.

The Final Fifteen as 12th Doctor quotes