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@azirafool
THIS WAS TOO WHOLESOME!!! đđđ

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Crowley learned early on that demons canât say âI love you.â Not those words, not in that order.
He had tried, as he and the angel parted ways after Eden. All he got out was an âI think I-â before the words had choked him, turning heavy and saccharine as they burned their way up his throat. He had waved off Aziraphaleâs concern as he dissolved into a coughing fit, getting out of there as fast as his corporationâs legs would carry him.
He had spent the rest of the day spitting up a tar-like substance, thick, black, and sickly sweet.
As they met again and again throughout history, âI think Iâ turned into âI know I,â but still, he couldnât say it, no matter how hard he tried. He tried to tell himself that it was okay. If he couldnât speak his love, heâd just have to show it, laying out his devotion in shared meals, last-minute rescues, an offer to go anywhere, a plea to run away.
He wasnât sure if Aziraphale understood. He hoped he did.
And then Armageddon came and went, and they started spending more time together. Something in Aziraphale had changed. He was more open, less nervous. And when he said the words, he made it look so easy.
âI love you.â It was said around a laugh, with such affection that Crowley stopped moving, stopped breathing, could do naught but stare at Aziraphale in wonder.
After several moments, Crowley realized Aziraphale was waiting for a response.
He couldnât.Â
He would try.
Keep reading
Itâs Friday night and itâs Valentineâs Day so obviously Crowley is very busy and has lots of important plans.
Itâs Anathema!
It baffles me when the fandom acts like Anathema has possession of the Good Omens castâs shared brain cell or is a force of common sense or something as if almost every character in this book isnât completely unhinged
Please embrace the fact that Anathema is ridiculous. I love her.
you try and tell me this is not the face of someone whoâs been chasing (one very specific) tail for millennia and gets exactly bugger-all for his efforts

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Good Omens but Crowley wears these
Why not.
God only knows what the context of this is
But the Crowley and Aziraphale energy is off the charts
âLook, Iâm just saying, it wasnât my fault if he decided to commit suicide by threatening you.â
âDo you really think our respective offices are going to care?â
âWell, no. Iâm just saying itâs not my fault. Anyway, he was a saint to his parish and a demon to his housekeeper. Makes him a double agent. So weâre both doing the right thing.â
âAnd both doing the wrong one.â
âWell. I suppose you could make that argument.â
âHow deep do you think we need to put him?â
âI wouldnât know, Iâve never hidden a body before. I still donât see why we canât miracle him away.â
âAudits, my dear. Iâm not sure how your side is about it, but my side audits miracles. Unless youâre really sure about that âboth doing the right thingâ argument.â
âWhatever. Hold your end higher, would you? Heâs heavier than he looks.â
WTF, I love this fandom
As a medieval art scholar and an obsessive GO fan, this made my whole week.
IT GOT BETTER
cringe warning
iâm in an rp group chat and iâm about to pass out over the emotional stress of thsi one part does this make me a kinnie
yes
yes
Itâs been two months since I started patreon! And this was one of the first requests for the three dollar tier: a spicy good omens option! A deep, heartfelt thanks to you guys helping me draw more, and putting up with me muddling my way through backgrounds lol
3DC gets 2 months early access to pics like these, as well as full size downloads ;) thanks so much again!
patreon.com/sidetrek twitter.com/sidetrek2
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Aziraphale has very nicely manicured nails so I guess heâd have to do Crowleyâs as well
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My newest dtiys, to celebrate 3k+ on instagram!
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âYou alright, there, Angel?â Crowley asked.
Aziraphale tore his eyes away from the clock which was ticking closer and closer towards the hour.
âWha-? Oh! Oh, yes! Yes, of course! Absolutely tickety-boo!â He replied, a nervous smile briefly alighting on his face before flittering away again.
ââTickety-boo,ââ Crowley parroted, carefully sounding out each syllable. âThat doesnât even mean anything.â
âWhat? Of course it does!â Aziraphale insisted, temporarily distracted from his internal fretting. âIt means alright, tiptop, hunky-dory.â
âHunky-dory?â Crowley said, amusement evident in his tone. âYou definitely just made that one up.â
Aziraphale huffed in offense. âItâs more of a word than âwahoo.ââ
Crowley narrowed his eyes, which were blessedly free of the dark shades he usually wore. It was just the two of them, after all. âYou take that back.â
But Aziraphaleâs attention had returned to the clock. The time was drawing nearer, and he found himself burning with both terror and exhilaration equally. He wanted to do it now, just take the leap and land on the other side. But, human tradition said to wait, so wait he would. It wasnât much longer, anyway.
Ten. Nine.
The countdown had begun. He could hear Crowley trying to get his attention, but it was muffled and far away.
Eight. Seven.
His eyes remained fixated on the clock. How could the seconds be moving by so slowly? Had Crowley stopped time again?
Six. Five.
Now, hereâs the thing about Aziraphale and swearing. Under most circumstances, he found it entirely crude and unnecessary, save for two certain special occasions. The first was, obviously, when one stepped into an active portal and found themselves inconveniently discorporated. The second was when one was finally taking the first step after six thousand years of waiting and found that time (a human construct, really) was entirely unwilling to cooperate.
Four.
âOh, fuck it.â
At precisely three seconds before midnight, on the eve of a new year that they both had thought would never come to pass, Aziraphale pressed his lips to Crowleyâs, cutting off the delighted noise the demon was making over hearing the angel swear for the first time.
This kiss was⌠Well, for perhaps the first time in his life, Aziraphale found himself unable to find the right words to describe it. âTiptopâ was clearly insufficient, âtickety-booâ didnât even come close, âhunky-doryâ was right out. Strangely, and much to his chagrin, âwahooâ seemed to be the only word his ecstatic brain could come up with.
Crowley was kissing him back, and Aziraphale could taste the love upon his lips, pure and sweet and so definitely there. It was everything he had hoped it would be. It was everything he never even knew he wanted.
At precisely six hundred and twenty-four seconds after midnight on New yearâs Day, Aziraphale and Crowley pulled apart, finding themselves gasping for breaths that suddenly seemed so very necessary.
Crowley made a series of incomprehensible noises, his lips stretching into a wide grin.
Azirpahle nodded in understanding. âQuite right, dearest, very well said. I wholeheartedly agree.â And then he kissed Crowley again. And again. And again. Et cetera.
goodbye 2019 and happy thousandth wedding anniversary to aziraphale and crowley
â Saturday Morning Funtime

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Crowley: hey whatâs up just checking if youâre still alive
Eve, holding her months old baby: no thanks to you. tea?
Crowley: iâm good. whatâs that
Eve: a child
Crowley: ?
Eve: apprently weâre designed to give birth in pain, and our kin will have to be raised from a grub instead of springing into existence fully formed and conscious
Crowley: haha thatâs wild
Eve: ikr can you imagine. here hold them
Crowley, voice cracking: sure
Eve: they havenât even developed object permanence yet
Crowley, choked up: thatâs pathetic
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