#self harm?

Washing away the bad thoughts

I thought that the thing people have to drawing Sal with scars on his hands and wrists was just a headcanon

but then I see this (in the scene where he's calling Larry):

like

is this my imagination?

or can you see them? I didn't know that was an actual thing

Aziraphale worried, after the church, over the state of your feet. Like being at the beach in bare feet, you'd told him, and that wasn't a lie. It was true enough, by now, despite the swollen blisters it left and that made it hard to walk. You were used to it, would rather die than give it up.

You didn't let him see your feet.

He wouldn't want to notice them all burnt to Hell with chillblains, oozing and blackened and-- he'd fret. How were you supposed to tell him that touching him hurt worse? How would he ever let you even hold his hand again, or trade chaste kisses as greetings in the light?

You dreamed about sharing something closer, every once in a while (every night), a baring of souls. Aziraphale shedding just an inch of that comfortable body to look at you with the eyes of an angel, to brush your hair away with those glorious wings and rings and--

And your corporation would burn away under the pressure, ash beneath the onslaught of that holy ice to leave you bare in agony before him.

You would love him for it.