#polish aziraphale

[rekinduzytaki]

STUPID GAY BITCHES

[vanyamire]

...before i knew anything, i knew i loved you.

prints

[crowlixcx]

[asleepyy]

Azazel squawked, frantically, trying to do what he did best and take the fall for another, but Jophiel was far too fast for him. 

The angel's thin, wirey body had played out wide to protect the demon, to trap him the way a shark cage traps a diver and—

And the squelch was sickening. 

"What have you done?!" Azazel cried. 

Unlike, say, a snake, the Owl had exceptional vision. Although he could not perceive the color of it, the demon saw ichor seeping through the angel's sternum, where War's sword had pierced him. 

Jophiel merely smiled. "I did what I should have done a long time ago, I think. If anybody should have fallen it was me, Aziraphale—wasn't that your name?" He toppled sideways with a shudder and a low, pained moan. 

The dust did not deserve his blood. 

Azazel, the barn owl, the Banshee, did what he was known best for, he screamed. It was a terrifying, threatening sound, and it did it's purpose: War skittered away into the darkness.

"You have so- so much faith in the Almighty, angel," Jophiel whispered. The words hitched. Ichor spilled from his lips. "And I have so much faith in you. Look at you.... You're brilliant," ================================================

"And I have so much faith in you. Look at you.... You're brilliant,"

OKAY SO JUST!!! ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT!!! AND YET AGAIN YOU'VE PREDICTED SOMETHING (not telling u what) THAT I'VE ALREADY WRITTEN UP !!!!! I wish I had more energy to finish this, but i still needed to draw something otherwise I was going to go crazy! AMAZING WRITING!!!!! THANK YOU!!!!!

[fearandhatred]

ok so what if the reason crowley likes watching aziraphale eat is because nothing he does for himself can give him back the pleasure he felt when creating his stars, so the next closest feeling to that is through experiencing someone else's greatest pleasures. but it will never be enough

text below the cut

hunger is a funny thing; multifaceted, duplicitous there's a hunger to give and a hunger to take the hunger of passion and the hunger of greed

i knew only of the first type of hunger, before time, before sorrow back when there was just the explosions of supernovas, the heat of the cosmos, the planets in my grasp and the world at my feet back when i was the barycenter of the universe and all my steps created consecrated ground the souls at my tabernacled fingertips, helpless, hopeless, defenceless the power to do whatever i wanted to them and choosing only kindness

that was before i knew how it feels to have it all stripped away to go from being larger than life to living in it; from creating to the realisation of having been created, at the mercy of things of my own design to be helpless, hopeless, defenceless, in a world that was never kind to me

that was before i knew the agony of hunger pangs, bone deep and spiritual that carved out my marrows, left me substanceless and corrosive everywhere and nowhere, that nothing i did could satiate that nothing can satiate but grace

there's a hunger to give and a hunger to take and the damned have nothing left to give

but you do.

you take and you take and you take, never left wanting a taking borne not from desperate emptiness, for once, but one of indulgence you gorge yourself with selfish pleasure, glut yourself with food unneeded fulfilment, hunger stacked upon already-there satisfaction and in taking, so also do you give

with each fistful you grabbed of that ox rib i could imagine snatching my stars out of the sky pressing them down between my palms, permanent claiming marks seared into my hands i imagined swallowing them down, eruptions of light and neutrons on my tongue with each sip you take of wine i imagine myself sucking in the universe galaxies and planets orbiting in my stomach, the centre of the world's gravity i imagine breathing in liquid life, the warmth of existence stinging my throat

and for the first time, my hunger is sated by watching you sate yours for now, it's enough for me to just watch

so establish this covenant with me: take your fill of animals, of drink, of everything within reach stuff your heart full, consume the world raw, and i'll do the same with my eyes but after that, tear the flesh off my frame, gnaw on my hollow bones strip me of the little i'm still worth, leave me bare and stranded feast on my body, broken for you do this in remembrance of me, and maybe i'll do the same

because that hunger of creation i can never get back, no matter how much i try so now i just gorge myself on you

[cawareyoudoin]

OH ANOTHER FUCKING HILARIOUS TRANSLATION THING

"I haven't done this since the Great War" I am pretty sure is meant to refer to the War in Heaven, right?

Well, the Polish translators didn't think so. What they know is that in English, there was a war which for a long while carried that moniker.

So in the Polish subtitles, Aziraphale says that he hadn't blown up his halo... Since World War 1.

[sentientsky]

“Day after tomorrow,” Phoebe Bridgers

save me phoebe bridgers save me

[idanit]

“Many people, meeting Aziraphale for the first time, formed three impressions: that she was English, that she was intelligent, and that she was gayer than a treeful of monkeys on nitrous oxide.”

Butch Aziraphale makes a lot of sense to me.

[didderd]

@tic-loud-tic-proud here they are! the good husbands! :3

(i still need to watch the second season, so no one spoil anything in the tags/comments please <3)

[halfbakedideas]

nail polish

Aziraphale paints Crowley’s nails.

notes:

This was originally posted on ao3, I only just realised I never crossposred on here.

read on ao3

Goldnova apparently flung me back into this fandom?? Not complaining though.

—x—x—x—

The patter of hailstones against the roof provided a nice white noise in the background of the ‘Best of Queen’ album that was playing softly from the record player.

Aziraphale was pottering around his bookshop, organising for the most part but occasionally dusting when he found a spot that hadn’t seen the feather duster in a long time. Crowley, on the other hand, was alternating between watching him from their spot on the sofa and harassing humans through their phone. At some point, the demon had pulled out a bottle of nail polish from somewhere.

They were trying to paint their nails with little to show for it. In the last fifteen minutes they had only successfully done their thumb.

Aziraphale was watching as he works, when he can see Crowley’s hands through the gaps in the bookshelves.

They tried to paint the rest of their nails but kept messing up. Either from getting too much polish on the surrounding skin from the way that their hand shook at the worst time, or the brush refusing to behave as it should. The cycle repeated over and over: botch the attempt, miracle the mess away, and start again, only to botch it once more. This had been going on for the last fifteen minutes.

A plume of smoke curled from Crowley’s mouth as they miracled away the polish once again. If they kept going like this then they would use up all of the nail polish in the bottle before they managed to get all of their nails painted.

Aziraphale set down his feather duster on a shelf and approached his demon.

“Can I help?” he asked. Crowley looked up.

“Dunno how you’d ‘help’ me with painting my nails,” they commented before shuffling over slightly so that he could sit down.

“I could do them for you?” Aziraphale offered. “Then you wouldn’t waste as much polish?”

They looked down at the brush-top that they were still holding in their hand, at their fingernails, then back up at Aziraphale again.

“Sure,” Crowley agreed and put the brush-top back in the bottle before handing it over to him.

They held out their hand, the one with the painted thumbnail, Aziraphale took it and placed it on his leg. The two of them readjusted so that they were angled more towards each other.

Aziraphale pulled out the brush-top again and was pleased to find that there was the perfect amount of polish on it, just as he expected there to be. The bottle floated lazily by his side at exactly the spot he needed it to be.

The angel continued to hold their hand so that he could angle it as he needed while he painted careful coats of polish over the nail of Crowley’s index finger.

Unlike the demon’s attempts earlier, the polish stayed on the nails and didn’t glob up anywhere. And it went on in even coats.

“You didn’t need to do it for me; I would’ve managed in the end,” they said after a few minutes of silence passed. “Or just have waited for another day when my hands aren’t as shakey,”

Aziraphale was just about finished painting the nail of the ring finger of that hand.

“No, I didn’t,” he agreed. “But doing it for you saves you from wasting any of this perfectly good polish,” the angel said.

The currently human-shaped serpent made a sound of agreement. He was right.

By the time Aziraphale had started on their other hand, the hail had eased off so much that it was just raining now.

“Angel?” Crowley called out later, looking up from examining their nails. The angel was standing over by the bookcases again and had been reaching for a book.

“Yes, my dear?”

“There are sparkles on my nails,”

“Yes, I suppose there is,”

“That polish doesn’t have any glitter in it,” they said. “I’m sure of it. This is your doing?”

“Look at them under the lamp light,” Aziraphale suggested instead of directly answering them.

Crowley was too busy doing as he suggested to see the smile that graced their angel’s face.

Under the more direct lamp light, they were able to see the blue, red, and gold glitter that was over the top of the black polish better. Before that, they could only see the gold ones, which reminded them of the polish on Aziraphale’s own nails.

—x—x—x—

endnotes:

I own both of those colours of nail polish :D they’re both very nice (don’t wear the gold very much though).

This was nice (and very short) but pain will be coming soon.

[smolalienbee]

very nice~

inspired by @cruciatusforeplay's currently unwritten fic so if you want to see more of THEM, then. well. bully cruci into writing it

[rekinduzytaki]

"na trzy paski lecą laski" crowley i "podryw na kasztana" aziraphale

[antlerx-art]

The Ball if crowley wasn’t making this 👹 face the entire time

[apolloniusaureo]

Crowley, but he became the Duke of Hell

(I just added some horns but yeah)

[laufxsons]

[Angel Kisses]

The best part of being an Angel in Aziraphale's humble opinion - apart from the blessing and being Good, of course - is that smooching your partner will leave visible evidence if done often enough. And Aziraphale (the bastard) is nothing but persistent when they've set their mind to it.

Crowley just grumbles something about his reputation, but they both know she absolutely loves those glowing freckles.

Details :]

[transmarks]

heres my aziracrow drunk & doing poppers in 2007 notes app headcanon/mini fic thing pls enjoy and dont take anything below as medical advice