#angelspoken

@sxbrinxgold | @wcrldswithin | @koscheitm | @the-11-doctor | @angelspoken | @gavehcpe

         “I hope you know I think this is all rubbish.” She had ever since she was at school. Oh yes ghosts could be real, there was no denying that, but communicating with spirits, anything that came close to being considered divination. She brought her cup of tea to her lips. “Though not as much as being a witch finder.” If they truly had any skill, her school and those who attended, would have long ago been discovered. 

i’m making this a mutual appreciation meme bc i can do that     //     accepting

thank you so much !!  and i am Indescribably Glad i have this opportunity to talk about how much i love your blog because hoo boy 

i remember reading one of your interactions with ineffablemum  &  seeing madame tracy calling God Herself ‘love’  &  inviting her to spend thursdays off in eastbourne with her as casually as anything, and just thinking: god she Would, that’s so her, it was Brilliant

   “Mr who? What the fuck are you talking about, side effects of what?”

 It had been a long, long time since his vision had suffered this badly. When had it been last? When he was eighteen and couldn’t handle his vodka? Christ that felt such a long time ago, and he wasn’t cut out for this bullshit anymore.

 But why, was the question. Malcolm squinted suspiciously at her and then at the empty tea cup on the table. Or as best he could, anyway.

   “Christ, woman, did you drug me or something?” He could only just make out her worried face with the blurriness, but fuck that, it was what she’d said that he was concerned about.  

 Malcolm fished his phone out of his jacket pocket and went to dial for an ambulance, but it promptly dived out of his hand and skittered under the table. 

             ‘ so  you’re  saying  --- ‘      clink,  he  sets  his  teacup  carefully  back  down  on  its  saucer,  backwards  hands  folding  on  the  table  as  his  claws  click  restlessly  under  the  illusion.      ‘ so  you’re  saying,  i  could  like.   talk  to  my  AUNTIE’S  GHOST  or  something  if  i  wanted  to.   like,  for  real.   you  just  .  .  .  call  her  up  or  some  shite? ‘

   “Truer words were never spoken.” Jillian agreed, hand on her heart and fascinated by this friendly but slightly eccentric looking British woman. Then again, weren’t they all meant to be a little kooky over the pond?

 The younger woman smiled, eyebrows raised as she leaned in a little closer to her and lowered her voice, almost conspiratorial.

   “Science? Well, yes, I suppose so, once humans got the hang of things. Though you do get rather carried away, you know. Humans that is, my dear, not you specifically.”

 Not that he was complaining, oh no. Regardless of the brief sweep of anxiety he felt every time he had to get into the Bentley, cars were a marvelous way to get about. Perhaps not at ninety miles an hour, but still…more comfortable than the bus anyway. And the company was far superior.

 Aziraphale had been munching on a biscuit, dabbing any stray crumbs away from his mouth fastidiously with a handkerchief. He brushed a few away from the table and his trousers, taking a moment to contemplate what she’d said.