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if i look back, i am lost
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trying on a metaphor
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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@taweret

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Okay but real talk? The best thing about Good Omens is that the female demons are DISGUSTING. Beelzebub is just absolutely filthy, swarming with flies, rotting, not sexy or appealing in any way. Both she and Dagon have messy hair, clothes that are functional rather than appealing, and NO VISIBLE MAKEUP!! (except for the scales and rotting flesh ofc, good job @the makeup designers). They’re not here to look good, they’re here to be demons. And Pollution, who is non-binary but more feminine-presenting, is also not sexualized, but rather associated with grime and oil slicks and litter.
Women never get to be that gross onscreen, especially if they’re evil. I was expecting either dark and sexy female demons or none at all, but they went with “women can be literal rotting corpses, their gender doesn’t affect their job or value as characters, AND Beelzebub is in charge of all the demons”
Crowley doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it.
The thing is, he should’ve expected it. Aziraphale’s not actually stupid, even if his magic tricks are. He can read Crowley as easily as any one of his books; he can see Crowley where he hides behind his sunglasses.
And Aziraphale doesn’t love by halves.
There is a blanket on the sofa in the back room and a potted fern by the register out front. There is a rather particular blend of earl grey in the cupboards and a coffee cup with a devil’s tail handle on the rack by the sink. The daily crossword is on the table, left out for Crowley to find, and although Crowley knows Aziraphale will have already done it once this morning, he’s miracled the answers away and instead written into the boxes: GOOD MORNING.
Crowley is sure there would be a little heart drawn in next to it if Aziraphale thought Crowley wouldn’t find it incredibly twee. Crowley picks up a pen–not a pencil–and fills the heart in himself. I love you, he thinks, shading it in, permanently.
If he ever finds a note without a heart on it again, he’ll be surprised. But he’ll never quite be used to it.
He fell in love with Aziraphale’s heart, with Aziraphale’s courage, with Aziraphale’s kindness. He fell in love with the way Aziraphale acted on impulse, the way he embraced recklessness and pretended like he didn’t. He fell in love with the elegantly manicured hands and the outdated jacket and even the stupid magic tricks, but Crowley never dared to think that Aziraphale would direct all that affection and all that joy and all that love onto him.
Maybe he wouldn’t have, in another universe. In this one, though, Aziraphale is free, and he loves like it.
Crowley should’ve expected that Aziraphale would love him in exactly the way that he loves Aziraphale.
A throat clears behind Crowley; he turns to see Aziraphale standing in the door, worn waistcoat, familiar smile. “Morning,” Aziraphale says. “Sleep good?”
“Yeah,” Crowley says, mouth dry.
“Good,” Aziraphale says, his smile widening, and then he’s off like a shot, making tea, telling Crowley about a book dealer he’s meeting later to see about a supposed Shakespearean folio, about a customer who’d come in looking for the shop next door again and wasn’t it a bit obvious that this wasn’t that sort of shop, about how he had a craving for gnocchi and if Crowley wouldn’t mind perhaps they could go out later and scrub up something, maybe that little place over on Marylebone Road that had the gorgonzola chicken Crowley liked so much that one time, and Crowley soaks it all in, soaks Aziraphale all in, all the curiosities and the interests, all the ways Aziraphale says we and us, all the ways it’s so easy for Aziraphale to wrap himself around Crowley, to give of himself to Crowley, to let Crowley in, to make space for him.
Aziraphale hands Crowley’s mug to him and kisses the corner of his mouth. “You all right?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Crowley says, coming back to himself a little. He leans over and kisses Aziraphale properly, slow and careful; Aziraphale tastes like tea and sugar. “Yeah, I’m all right. Perfect, even. Brilliant.”
Aziraphale grins. “We’ve got to leave by ten if we want to meet this book dealer on time. Don’t take too long getting ready.” And then he kisses Crowley one last time and goes back down to the shop.
Crowley constantly feels like he’s falling in love all over again; he constantly feels like Aziraphale is falling in love with him all over again. It feels like delicate spring shoots and brilliant pink and gold sunrises and warm cups of tea, like being taken care of and being wanted and being held close in the depths of the night.
It feels like reaching out for six thousand years, and finally finding the hand in the dark.
He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it.
He doesn’t think he wants to.
😂they really went there and tried to burn David, TWICE
The cool thing about Aziraphale and Crowley not having canon sexualities or gender identities is that you can interpret them how ever you want. Think their queerplantoic? Great. Think their asexual husbands? Right on. Think they had a threesom with Oscar Wilde? Awesome, me too.

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aziraphale: well let me tempt you to– oh no i suppose that’s your job isn’t it
crowley:
shadwell: you monster! seducing women to do your evil will!
aziraphale, literally the first gay man on earth: i’m sorry doing what to whom now
Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard.
um ok Netflix if you say so
HAHAHA
It said it was her dreamhouse. Don’t question her fantasies.
please stop reblogging this post
gno

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maybe im just reading into this but i think wikipedia is trying to tell me to have sex with the pope
BEWARE THE IDES OF MARCH
DEATH BEE BEEHIVE TRIP WIRE
@editorincreeps
Effective villainy at the HIGHEST LEVEL. Look at that sign – clearly hand lettered (you can see on the slight nuances of shadow), and wonderfully done.
The bee has a little smile because it is doing its best, evil, bee-killing job.
The trap door opens smoothly on the first try, clearly having been oiled in preparation.
@blue-pixiedust
uncle chewie and uncle artoo sending their niece to her first day of jedi school
When you discover that these two:
Were married in Love Actually
is that more or less shocking than the fact that these two
were married in real life?
You just made my post 200% better.
Wait for it, because in real life:
Cheated on:
With:
Shooting That last movie must have been really awkward
Hmmm, I had no idea…

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anyway. I’d like to thank god for that scene where deadpool got fucked with a strapon by his girlfriend. short but so very sweet.