“Aziraphale collected books. If he were totally honest with himself he would have to have admitted that his bookshop was simply somewhere to store them. He was not unusual in this. In order to maintain his cover as a typical second-hand book seller, he used every means short of actual physical violence to prevent customers from making a purchase. Unpleasant damp smells, glowering looks, erratic opening hours - he was incredibly good at it.”
—
Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (via blaise-db)
#when people write Aziraphale as all proper and soothing #no dude#his store is never open when the sign says it’s gonna be and he’s gonna follow you around the store like you’re a registered shoplifter #he’s gonna look at you judgmentally no matter which section you’re browsing and make you feel all self-conscious about your taste in books #the front entrance has an unmarked step and after you trip he’ll say ‘mind the step’ #and then again when you fall going out #probably empty-handed because none of the prices are marked and you don’t really want to ask him how much anything costs #he probably short-changes you if you do try to buy something #and accuses you of trying to short-change him when you question it #Aziraphale is literally everything you hate in a shopkeeper
You have the best tags.
(via calamitycallaghan)
Weird, sulky Aziraphale is the best Aziraphale.
(via bloodonmytypewriterkeys)
I think about this sometimes because I’ve gotten a number of booksellers to offer me interesting books from the back shelves at steep discounts just because I showed the proper degree of excitement looking at them. Like… I have a signed copy of William Morris’s limited run The House of the Wolfings that I got for a quarter of what it’s worth because of the way I held the book when the bookseller let me look at it. It might be an aging collector thing - the fear that when you die, the books will not get their proper love, so you pick and choose who gets to take on the duty.
Aziraphale will never die.
impromptu-sketches