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Thank you, everyone, for everything. The time I spent dicking around with you nerds were some of the best days of my life.

I'll leave this up for a week, I need you all to know before I go that you were great. Simon / Jonathan Out.

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Hey! Do you have any pages up yet? I wasn't sure if I just completely missed them and I want to make sure I've read rules n all that

So sorry! 

Apparently all of my pages are gone, but I put up a very quick and to the point rules page.

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Tilda Swinton as Gabriel CONSTANTINE • 2005, dir. Francis Lawrence

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aziraphale + his white suit (requested by anon)

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#for science

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dieuaile‌:

         “ just—  just a kiss, yes. good point. alright. ”

      “ ... so. “

      There’s not much else to say or do other than to simply lean down and very carefully press his lips to the other angels.

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horcoss‌:

❝   no.   ❞

      “ If you don’t want to kiss me then the invite wasn’t for you, obviously. “

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dieuaile‌:

          “ are you— are you SURE about it ? ”

      “ It’s just a kiss. “

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ineffablequestion‌:

“Is this an… open invitation?”

      “ Uhh--- Yeah.  Sure.  Yes. “

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      “ Fine.  Kiss me. “

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      “ --- Aren’t you tired of this? “

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" bitch. "

      Casually turns away from Michael to look at the angel standing next to them.

      “ — Do you hear something?   I could swore I just heard something. “

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    if i make tags then i have to keep the blog.

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I never asked to be a demon. I was just minding my own business one day and then oh, lookie here, it’s Lucifer and the guys. Oh, hey, the food hadn’t been that good lately. I didn’t have anything on for the rest of that afternoon. Next thing, I’m doing a million-light-year freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur.

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ineffablequestion‌: 

“He would have come himself, but you scare the Hell out of ‘im.” To be fair, Gabriel scares most people. A healthy dose of caution is always favored when dealing with this particular piece of titanium; everything seem to deflect off of him so much so that it paints a picture of a being so above needing emotion that he dismisses them like children from a classroom when they’ve worn out their welcome.

But Crowley knows– knows– that deep down, Gabriel remembers his own heart. It’s there somewhere, and the demon isn’t particularly fond of the idea of ripping open the angel’s chest to pull it out. But that’s what has been asked of him, and he hasn’t had it in him to fail Aziraphale, yet.

“This ain’t right.” A tremor of frustration. “You know you asked too much of him. Now, you’re getting– what? Pissy because he couldn’t handle it? He’s not you.” Too soft. Too thoughtful. Too unwilling to cast away everything that makes him who he is. “And I know that’s why you like him so much.” It’s why Crowley does, too. 

“Does he remind you of me?” Sweet, loving, loyal. Things that Crowley was, once upon a time, before he ever knew this name. “Or does he just remind you that you didn’t always used to be like… this?”

      Gabriel listens for now, resuming his slow walk rather than just standing there like a scolded child.  He listens to the demon ramble on about right and asking too much, and while he listens he can’t help but find it almost ironic that there was a Demon stood there telling him about right and wrong.  A demon.

      He was a fucking archangel, he knew what was right and what was wrong.  And then comes the comment.

      Does he remind you of me?

      Raphael.

      Damnit.

      He wonders why he even keeps trying to continue the walk with the way he kept stopping for this conversation, but the idea of just standing and yelling in the middle of the moors of Scotland seemed a little more absurd than having a shouting match while walking.  Though, maybe it should be the other way around.

      “ None of it was my decision.  All I asked of him was to come home.  He decided to stay.  I know now, he decided to stay for you.  And he’s softer than Raphael ever was.  But yes, that’s why I liked him. “

      He chooses to ignore the last comment for now, one hand lifting to comb his hair back into place in what one might consider an anxious action. Not him of course, but some other observer, perhaps.

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