[williamtheconqeuror]

aziraphale + outfits

[fairkid-forever]

you know the other thing that I really enjoy about Good Omens? Despite being messy af and bad at talking about their feelings and using their words, Crowley and Aziraphale are just like… actual grown-ups. Like, their defining character traits are that that they would risk literally everything to avoid a change in their daily routine. They literally defy Heaven and face down Satan to stop the Apocalypse because after a long day they just want to unwind at home with their significant other and a nice glass of red. Like they are SO decidedly middle-aged that actual paradise to these two immortal beings of immense otherworldly power is an early dinner out with your sweetie at your favorite restaurant and then going DIRECTLY home to open a bottle of wine and throw on your favorite album. and honestly, hard same?

[discworldonelephants]

https://www.deviantart.com/rhianimated/art/Darwin-s-Watch-128852715

Wizards in tweed? Yes please.

From “The Science of Discworld III: Darwin’s Watch”, where the UU faculty wizards enter Roundworld once again, and this time, go Victorian.
I’m going to get around to adding the rest of the senior staff at some point, but for the moment there’s a rather dapper Ponder, Rincewind (“who was rather edgy in the absence of his hat, and tried to stand under things”), and the Librarian, enjoying himself in a velvet suit and fake eyebrows. He is drinking Twinings Earl Grey tea of course (the nectar of the Gods to Yours Truly), and I have concluded that I can’t draw orangutans :/

Inked in Toonboom and coloured in Photoshop

All Discworld content copyright Mr Terry Pratchett

[invisibleicewands]

“You made it so I was… nothing.” - 105/ ∞

[tinsnip]

I don’t go to here, but,
“If nothing else, it would let me unclench my teeth in the middle of the night.”
is a powerful fucking phrase.

[flurgburgler]

all time favourite kids

[azirafuck]

i’m sure the scene with crowley saving aziraphale from the nazis will be amazing but i can’t stop thinking about him entering the church like

[sauntering-vaguely-downwards]

do you feel incredibly vindicated op?

[azirafuck]

absolutely. absolutely

[wing-weaver-z]

You could say it was a

NICE AND ACCURATE PROPHECY

[azirafuck]

im fucking crying

[katy-133]

GUYS

[the-football-chick]

[brnskynyteowl]

Deadass

[chromatographic]

The social cheat I’ve learned for this is to say:

“I have to check my calendar, why, what’s Friday?”

This says “Maybe” without saying “Maybe”, and giving you the option to make up a Doctor’s Appointment You Forgot About (or reschedule one you didn’t!) depending on what they say.

It’s an amazingly powerful sentence for my Autistic and ADHD ass - it gives me the ability to judge my social spoons, as well as communicating that “hey, I might have forgotten something, it’s not you it’s me” in a very non-offensive way.

“I have to check my calendar, why?”

[july-19th-club]

Simony clenched his fists in anger.

“Look…listen…we died for lies, for centuries we died for lies.” He waved a hand towards the god. “Now we’ve got a truth to die for!”

“No. Men should die for lies. But the truth is too precious to die for.”

Simony’s mouth opened and shut soundlessly as he sought for words. Finally, he found some from the dawn of his education.

“I was told it was the finest thing to die for a god,” he mumbled.

“Vorbis said that. And he was…stupid. You can die for your country or your people or your family, but for a god you should live fully and busily, every day of a long life.”

- Terry Pratchett, Small Gods

I like to think about angels (and demons, natch) being birds. Birdlike, anyway. 

Aziraphale and Crowley very carefully perching on something. Ledge, up high. Telephone wire (a good strong one). Tree top. Perching and nestling down, wings outspread for balance, then folding them in as they sit and watch whatever they’re watching. 

Or flying somewhere far enough that they swap out being in the slipstream. (Aziraphale spends more time in the back, flapping lazily; he complains if he’s in the front and Crowley gets irritated.)

Sleeping in the open, because sometimes that’s nice. Not often, but sometimes. Huddling down into a nest of sleeping bags and pillows, wings folded over their heads. (And waking up the next morning with a wing-kink [1] that takes hours to shake out properly.)

And preening, of course. All the preening.

1. No pun intended.