Mr. N

That!!!!

LOOK AT HIS EYES, also the swaying!

What are you so smitten for, he has been in love for 6000+ years, you idiot

“While we dance” SIR- TT

I bet if Crowley saw his pouting, he would be unable to keep complaining.

THE TREMBLE (i am sorry for this one, I had to cry while making this, so do you)

ahhhhhhhhhfjeksbrbejwiw

Bro is SMITTEN

Crowley’s number 1 response to danger? Flight. He suggests running off to Alpha Centauri twice even though it won’t solve the problem and only be a temporary solution. He only kills when he doesn’t see a way out (Ligur) and even in that case he still makes it so that he doesn’t kill him directly (ligur chose to open the door with the bucket) and then doesn’t try to fight hastur either but gets away by trapping him and running to aziraphale (again, trapping hastur is only a temporary solution, as Hastur can get out as soon as somebody calls, which crowley most likely knows). He wants to dump Gabriel somewhere and run to get rid of the problem, he tricks shax to get the humans out of a dangerous situation, then exits the entire situation himself to go to heaven, leaving Aziraphale in the bookshop. He’s a speed demon, always on the run from something - while aziraphale holds a sword in the finale of s1, Crowley holds the crank of his car.

None of this is to call him a coward, neither me nor the narrative is saying that. Both him and aziraphale are brave but careful in their own right: Crowley rushes into things headfirst, maybe knowing it could get him into trouble and not caring, or just not thinking about it (see before the Beginning, Elspeth, etc), and then runs from it, while aziraphale tries his best to avoid the trouble (which he isn’t very good at, admittedly) or to lie or try to cover it up when he’s confronted (see the flaming sword, him saying things like „we’re not even friends“ to suggest to any watching superiors that they don’t know each other - something that falls much more into the category of lying to Heaven than lying to crowley to hurt him, I might add for anybody who finds it necessary to paint azi as the bad guy).

while I’m on the topic of aziraphale, his reaction to confrontation is never to run away. He might lie and try to deescalate the situation with words because he doesn’t exactly want to fight either (something which I’ve also written an entire meta on) but he never tries to remove himself from it. He doesn’t run from God when She questions him about the sword, nor hide himself in his bookshop when Gabriel and sandalphon come to visit (a scene in which the script book mentions Crowley sneaking out, actually), he doesn’t want to leave for Alpha Centauri and he doesn’t let crowley take Gabriel and leave him somewhere, instead choosing to take him in and cover for him.

What happened in the final fifteen is the only way things could have turned out. Crowley said that there was going to be another attempt at Armageddon and when the metatron mentioned that aziraphale could be the next supreme archangel, aziraphale saw his chance to avoid the trouble he and Crowley would inevitably get into if they stayed on earth, and took it. It’s the only thing that makes sense for his character and when the metatron mentions the second coming on their way to the lift that only confirms that he was right. This is their best chance.

Im not saying that Crowley’s position in the final fifteen was wrong or anything. I can’t image him going back as an angel either and it was fully in his right to say no - it’s just a pity that they were both having a very emotionally laden but a very different conversation at the same time that turned out so horribly wrong. Aziraphale needs Crowley by his side to fight (as seen when he asks Crowley to come to the airfield, needing Crowleys help with hiding Gabriel, literally telling Crowley „I need you“ in the most devastating voice, kudos to Michael Sheen on that note) and Crowley won’t run and leave the planet if aziraphale isn’t coming with him (as seen when he stays in a pub to wait for the end when he thinks aziraphale is dead) but neither of them can stay with the other in the final fifteen.

Aziraphale’s “I forgive you” is a defense mechanism. As an angel he’s been conditioned to see disobedience as sin, so when Crowley proposes something that contradicts Heaven’s rules, whether running away (Season 1) or rejecting Heaven’s offer (Season 2), the training kicks in.

He can’t openly admit his love for Crowley and when Crowley steps beyond the line of “just friends,” Aziraphale panics and falls back on the only “safe” emotional script he has ever learned instead of saying things like “I love you too.” or “I want this but I’m afraid it’s wrong.”

Another way I like to think about it is when Crowley is vulnerable, Aziraphale doesn’t want to see him as sinful. He wants Crowley to be the angel he once was so “I forgive you” kinda means “Don’t make me see you as Fallen.” or “Please stay someone I’m allowed to love.”

It’s tragic because Crowley doesn’t need forgiveness! he needs acceptance! 😭😭😭

He also doesn’t understand that Crowley isn’t asking him to sin and rebellion. What Crowley wants is partnership and love. Since Aziraphale interprets it through his angelic lens he sees R running away together as disobedience and kissing as temptation. “I forgive you for your disobedience.” is the only way he can cope with.💔💔💔💔

It’s even more tragic because Crowley doesn’t understand any of those!!

Crowley takes the words at face value and “I forgive you” sounds judgmental. He has spent 6,000 years being punished by Heaven. The last thing he wants is to hear Heaven’s language’s in the mouth of the one person he trusts.

Also Crowley doesn’t know how emotionally fragile Aziraphale is and how deeply Aziraphale’s fear of Heaven runs. He doesn’t see the panic beneath it; He thinks Aziraphale simply chooses duty over love.

I just wish they talk about these little misunderstandings in GO3 🤍🖤

Aziraphale shows the exact opposite: kindness is a strength.

Not the fake stuff - not polite smiles that hide a knife behind your back - but genuine, stubborn kindness. The kind that means holding onto your humanity even when it would be so much easier to snap, to get bitter, to give up. And here’s the thing: people forget that kindness doesn’t cancel out strength. Aziraphale is kind and he absolutely carries around a metaphorical flaming sword when needed. He stands his ground. He protects. He says “no” when it matters. His softness isn’t fragility - it’s a choice, and it’s powerful. Strength comes in many forms, and yeah, one of them is kindness. Maybe one of the rarest.

Anyway. Aziraphale supremacy.

On Nov.19, everyone is welcome to celebrate The Feast Day of Aziraphale by drinking cocoa and wine, eating good food, reading, being stylish on their own terms, enjoying the company of friends and embracing the spirit of Aziraphale! Please share your pics on socials with #Azirafeast!

On Nov. 19, Creators are encouraged to show Aziraphale indulging in what makes him happy or why you love him (canon or fanon!) Create “Lore” for why Aziraphale has a feast day! What miracles throughout history has he performed? Creations can be dramatic, serious, sexy or silly!

All forms of creation are welcome: Draw, write, sing, act, sew, bake, cosplay or anything else! However YOU want to appreciate our favorite Angel. All variations, versions and representations of Aziraphale are welcome for #Azirafeast

And remember, you don’t have to “make” anything to participate in #Azirafeast on Nov. 19. Eating cake and lying to your boss is a great way to celebrate! Confuse some customers, watch a nature documentary, get drunk, listen to your favorite music, be kind to someone who is new or lost!

Anything tagged #Azirafeast I will reblog, the same on Bluesky, Instagram and Twitter. There is also an AO3 collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Azirafeast . Anything added to it I will promote on my socials for #Azirafeast.

I know I don’t have the biggest following, but the idea is that on the feast of Aziraphale, even fans who don’t have a large social media presence will still be seen, still have their experiences noticed, and will feel part of a community that cares.

Folks can get stressed about creating by a “due date.” I encourage folk to post early if they want, and to keep posting after Nov. 19th if they miss the day or don’t finish in time.

Just make sure to tag your contributions, whether they are pics or creations, with #azirafeast so we can celebrate with you! Please feel welcome to take my words and reshare any way that you would like, and make your own posts to generate awareness! Please do share in any fandom communities your part of, or feel free to try and convince people IRL that this is a totally real holiday.

I do not run, own, control or anything of the sort in regards to #azirafeast. The idea came from Cliopadra and a private discord server, and the brilliant folk there randomly picked a date and ran with it. The reason I made this blog and encourage people to participate is because I think it’s a lovely idea! It is NOT “mine.”

I was recently reminded of the (adorable) fact that crows enjoy rolling down snowy hills, and since I like to headcanon that Crowley’s wings are crow wings…

Crow instincts: C’mon! :D  It’ll be fun! :D :D :D

Snake instincts: What the He— What on EARTH are you thinking!?!

An Ineffable Timeline of costumes:

I had done this previously in separate posts, but I did want to keep the timeline in order (the mess was bugging my brain). Well mostly in order, I had to switch up Golgotha and Land of Uz so that they could fit better.

So, hello again! (or for the first time). I gathered every official source detailing the costumes for s1 and s2. From interviews with Claire Anderson, lead costume designer for season 1 to Kate Carin, lead for season 2.

Some things of course I was not able to put here because there was nothing official confirming or describing the costume choices.

Some extra bits:

Something I did not add here from the X-ray section of GO2, was that Kate Carin mentioned that Aziraphale’s detective look in episode 3 was a sort of “Noir Detective”. But not much else was said about how it came to be, except for the obvious raincoat and hat and case he is carrying. She also talked about rhinestones being glued to Aziraphale’s magician cape in his act in 1941. But that is a fairly noticeable detail as well (I believe) so I did not add it here.

Some very important things to keep in mind:

Nanny Ashtoreth in the book is never directly alluded to be Crowley. There have been debates about this, and that is why I included in the slide of “Brother Francis” the reply Neil gave addressing exactly that. For the TV show, it was decided that both Nanny/ Brother Francis were going to be Crowley and Aziraphale (radio omens too). For the book, well you can read it/ see by yourself that even though one nanny showed up, it is never said to be Crowley.

I had read some tags previously saying “this is not accurate” “this is not this” etc. so just a gentle reminder that the costume department is not here to make things 100000% accurate. Claire Anderson and Kate Carin both had the creative freedom to craft attires and make them believable for the time period. I collected all the sources (below) if you want to read them yourself. This is about experimenting and giving it credibility without it being down to a T.

Some arrows are not specifically pointing to a specific thing. They are there to guide you find what is in the text.

The Sources:

Ineffable Con

SYFY Claire Anderson

SYFY 2

Claire Anderson Costume Designer

Film School Rejects Claire Anderson

RadioTimes- Hair

YouTube Kate Carin interview

Youtube Wrap Party Podcast

𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝓎 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒?

the wives deserve justice

- sincerely,

a lesbian lawyer

The bookshop was quiet in that familiar, comforting way it always was in the late afternoon — like the world outside had forgotten to intrude for a while.

Dust motes floated in golden shafts of sunlight that streamed through the half-closed blinds. The air smelled faintly of old paper, faintly of honey, faintly of the angel who had made this space so utterly, impossibly his.

Crowley pushed open the door, the bell chiming softly overhead. His sunglasses caught the glint of the afternoon light as he stepped inside, shrugging off his long black coat.

“Afternoon, angel,” he said lazily, voice curling through the stillness like smoke.

From behind one of the tall shelves, a muffled voice answered, “Afternoon, my dear. You’re here rather early today.”

Crowley smirked. “What, am I supposed to schedule an appointment now? Can’t drop by and bless you with my company?”

Aziraphale stepped out from between the shelves, his hair slightly mussed, his waistcoat buttoned all wrong — the very picture of a being who’d been deeply involved in the very serious business of alphabetizing first editions by whim rather than logic.

He smiled indulgently, that soft, sunshine-warm smile that Crowley could feel right down to his ribs. “You know I never mind your company.”

“Mm. Could’ve fooled me,” Crowley murmured, sauntering past him toward the little sitting area in the back. “You looked ready to fend me off with a hardback.”

“Oh, nonsense.” Aziraphale followed him, brushing a bit of dust from his sleeve. “I was just in the middle of something, that’s all.”

Crowley flopped dramatically into the armchair, crossing his long legs and glancing around. “Something involving rearranging books that have already been rearranged seventeen times this week?”

Aziraphale’s cheeks pinked faintly. “I find it soothing.”

“I bet you do,” Crowley muttered fondly.

He leaned back, eyes half-lidded behind his sunglasses, and breathed in the bookshop air — old pages, tea, candle wax, and that indefinable something that was pure Aziraphale.

After a few minutes, his throat felt dry, and he stood up to fetch himself a drink. He wandered toward the small side cabinet Aziraphale had set up near the reading nook — a neat little corner with a tea set, biscuits, and a tin or two of Aziraphale’s favorite blends.

Except…

Crowley opened the cabinet, and froze.

He blinked once. Twice. Then pushed his glasses up his forehead so he could stare properly.

Inside were neat rows of snacks and drinks — not just Aziraphale’s beloved teas and shortbread, but things Crowley liked. Specifically liked.

A few bottles of imported iced coffee — the kind only available in Italy. A half-open box of spicy crisps that Aziraphale definitely wrinkled his nose at last time Crowley had eaten them in the Bentley. Even a few bars of that extra-dark chocolate Crowley swore by.

Crowley just stood there, mouth slightly open. “...What the—”

He crouched a little, pulling out one of the coffee bottles to make sure it wasn’t some angelic look-alike brand. Nope. It was the real thing.

He closed the cabinet slowly, blinking as if the wood grain might explain any of this to him.

When that failed, he turned around.

“Angel?”

“Yes, dear?” Aziraphale called from the other room, still fussing with something on a shelf.

“Since when do you keep—uh—my coffee in here?”

There was a pause. Then, footsteps, and Aziraphale appeared around the corner, looking caught between pleased and self-conscious. “Oh! You found it.”

“Found it?” Crowley repeated incredulously. “You hid it in a cupboard!”

“I didn’t hide it, dear boy. I simply—well—I put it away neatly.”

Crowley stared at him. “You stocked the place with my snacks.”

Aziraphale clasped his hands together, almost shy. “I thought you might appreciate it. You spend rather a lot of time here, you know, and it didn’t seem right that I only had things I enjoy. I wanted you to feel… comfortable.”

Crowley blinked slowly, trying to process that.

Comfortable.

No one had ever tried to make him comfortable before. Not in six thousand years.

He cleared his throat. “You—you hate this stuff, though. The coffee, the crisps—last time I had them in the Bentley, you said, and I quote, ‘Crowley, it smells like sin and vinegar.’”

Aziraphale’s mouth twitched. “Yes, well, I might not like them myself, but you do. And that’s quite enough reason, isn’t it?”

Crowley just looked at him, the realization hitting him like sunlight after a century underground.

Aziraphale wasn’t trying to make a point. Wasn’t fishing for praise. He’d just… done it. Because he thought Crowley deserved a little comfort.

“Bloody hell,” Crowley murmured softly, looking away before the warmth in his chest became too obvious. “You’re—unbelievable, you know that?”

“Mm?” Aziraphale tilted his head.

Crowley rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Most people wouldn’t think twice. But you—you go and do something like this. No fanfare. No ‘look what I did.’ Just… kindness.”

Aziraphale’s expression softened, something gentle and luminous in his eyes. “It’s not such a grand gesture.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said quietly. “That’s what makes it so good.”

They stood there in a little bubble of silence, the soft hum of the city just outside the shop’s old walls.

Aziraphale busied himself with the teapot, cheeks faintly pink. “Would you care for a cup of your coffee, then?”

Crowley grinned crookedly. “Only if you promise not to make that disgusted little noise you do when I drink it.”

Aziraphale pretended to look scandalized. “I do not make a noise.”

“Oh, you do,” Crowley said, laughing under his breath. “You purse your lips and wrinkle your nose like the smell of caffeine might send you to the fiery pit.”

Aziraphale laughed too, the sound soft and delighted. “Well, I suppose I can refrain… just this once.”

Crowley reached out, lightly brushing his fingers over Aziraphale’s hand as he took the cup. The contact lingered a second too long — warm, steady, electric.

Aziraphale stilled, looking up at him through his lashes.

Crowley smiled, softer now. “You know,” he said, “I’ve been in palaces, cathedrals, and hellholes, and none of ‘em ever felt half as much like home as this dusty old shop.”

Aziraphale’s breath caught. “Crowley…”

“Don’t look so surprised,” Crowley murmured. “You’ve been my home for ages, angel. You just didn’t know it.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, but he didn’t look away. His hand turned under Crowley’s, fingers curling just slightly to hold on. “I think,” he said quietly, “you’ve always been mine, too.”

Crowley felt something in his chest loosen — something he hadn’t even realized was wound tight.

He grinned faintly, trying to keep his voice light even as his heart fluttered like a nervous miracle. “Careful, angel. Say things like that and I might never leave.”

Aziraphale smiled back, eyes glowing like candlelight. “Then I suppose I shall have to keep the cupboard stocked.”

Crowley laughed, warm and unguarded, and took a sip of his coffee just to make the angel roll his eyes.

They ended up sitting together on the old sofa — Aziraphale with a cup of tea, Crowley with his coffee, their shoulders brushing just enough to feel like gravity itself was conspiring to keep them close.

And for once, neither of them fought it.

For once, the world outside could wait.

Because in that little bookshop, amid the scent of old paper and spice and warmth, Crowley realized that maybe, just maybe, heaven and hell had both been wrong.

Home wasn’t a place.

It was a person.