#rip crowley

R.i.p to Crowley

They already have. At some point they stopped trusting Crowley to give you your money. So they just started buying stuff for you.

Though that has it's own issues because Crewel and Trein both buy clothes for you but the two of them have very different styles they like on you so that leads to your closet being a mess.

Mr Nightingale he can't understand your songs

Occasionally Muriel will spot the wiry man curl up in a corner of the bookshop with his favourite tartan blanket and a bottle of chateauneuf du pape...

See the complete set here

Im so ready for Crowley to bust out his post divorce hair bc she be slaying

I subscribe to the fan analysis about how crowley is at heart an engineer 🥰 i just think that's so lovely hence his bird cage is adorned with symbols reminiscent of the Fibonacci spiral

And bc i love matching to show how these 2 complement each other azi has swirls wherw the light hits and crowley mainly has swirls in the shadows

Aziraphale favourite flowers are Edelweiss and Crowley's are pink Camellia. Aziraphale wanted to show you his cool outfit for gardening wile responding to the question, tell him he's pretty please

[✐meme] three sentence fic meme

by the time that crowley had been old enough to know anything, the general had already become something of a folklore legend, a lone phantom who had taken his leave into the dark, protective shield of the briar valley forests, never to emerge again. to fae far and wide, it would have been impossible in those days to have graduated through a very lengthy childhood without one time or another pretending to be the nightmare general of briar valley and his stalwart companions, driving back the poison taint that threatened their ancient existence— to imagine what horrendous foes and wicked creatures they had to overcome in their desperate, cursed bid to save the queen.

it is something much more frightening than the stories of the old general that bursts into his office like a vengeful whirlwind, doors cracking in protest against the stone wall as they tremble meekly against their hinges, and his poor desk is seized within the crushing grip of a rigid pair of clawed, white-knuckled hands.

(not the maple top, he mourns, a near tear glinting behind his mask as the glossy wood creaks ominously)

"where is my son," lilia vanrouge snarls at him with all the fury and fear of a panicked father, and crowley quails miserably behind his rapidly splintering desk. "what have you allowed to happen, where is my son?!"

(Good Omens 2 spoilers)