"Grant me your wrath, my dear. For I've become unworthy of your forgiveness"

mini comic for 26 of ineffable inktober

Thinking about that goddam kiss again.

There's a lot of debate about who fell first, who fell harder or who loves who more. Here's my thoughts on it:

They both love each other deeply and equally, but are forced to hide it (obviously) but in my opinion while crowley is hiding his feelings from the outside world, aziraphale is hiding his feelings from himself (to better hide it from heaven/hell)

So when they kiss, for Crowley, it is 'after 6000 years, finally I am brave enough to do this', and for aziraphale, it is fully awakening the deeply repressed love and desire he has for Crowley. And for a moment, he let's himself feel it and holds Crowley as they kiss. It almost changes his mind about leaving, but it definitely changes him fundamentally. He can't hide it from himself anymore, he needs crowley, and there's a name to it now. He loves him and doesn't ever want to let go of that.

"Do it again, please right now" because you're all I've ever wanted, and I couldn't face that until now.

Do it again, but I have to leave you because I never want to not feel this way. I never want to hide Us again. Not from myself and not from heaven, hell and humanity.

page 4 is here🥳✨ (and it came out better than I expected😳)

• Sides Fall Apart, page 4 • (original Good Omens short fancomic)

[Aziraphale's fall] (in progress)

I'm soooo sleepy😅 but also proud💖

ps. take a look on my blog for previous pages, if you like✨

headcanon that when Crowley cries, his tears burn and leave marks down his face and burn much like the pool of sulfur he fell into during The Fall.

When Aziraphale leaves to go to heaven, Crowley doesn’t leave his flat/ the bentley for years. Not just because he doesn’t have the energy to talk or see anyone but because he cried so much his tears left scars down his cheeks and in the palms of his hands.

(inspired by this twitter post)

not 100% sure how we got here, but was talking about trying to relay that quote in the post ("you will always need to leave and i will never let you go.") to aziraphale and crowley, and i was told to post my thoughts on it on here

to aziraphale, crowley is the one who seems to need to leave. he has been trying to escape, from heaven and from their responsibilities and from the plan. crowley, in aziraphale's mind, is trying to escape, but aziraphale is clinging to both him and heaven, not wanting to let him go

to crowley, aziraphale is the one trying to leave. he's trying to abandon crowley, leave and go to heaven where crowley cannot follow, and all crowley can do is beg for him to stay and hope he isn't abandoned once again

but in reality, neither of them can see the truth of the situation because both of them are too clouded by their perceptions

crowley is incapable of returning to heaven, just as aziraphale is incapable of leaving

the bird tries to fly away, desperately wanting the dog to fly with him but not understanding that the dog does not have the wings to follow. the dog does not understand that the bird is waiting for him to follow, and all he perceives is the bird flying away from him as he struggles to make him stay

they are both in each role, equally the same yet more different than they can comprehend

Please Forgive me

If we don’t get something like this in s3, I’m gonna finally lose it

~ commissions open | links ~

⋄ APARTMENT JUNGLE ⋄

Fear not aziraphale enthusiasts I have two sketches of him that I’ll also digitalise

Ineffable Husbands WIP Sneak Peak

He looks down at Crowley, now limp in his grasp, the poor dear run ragged and far too thin. His grasp tightens as tears leak from his eyes which are screwed so shut to the point of pain,  teeth biting into the soft flesh of his bottom lip, a hail Marry attempt to keep his sobs at bay not to disrupt the man dozing in his arms. Aziraphale could feel his soul scratching at the crypt of his chest, like a wild, restless animal, desperately trying to claw itself out and drag itself to its other half who lay bound and caged just a few centimeters away, yearning to stitch itself whole once more. A sob breaks through the sealed dam of his teeth, gushing forward like a river mixing with the freshly spilled blood that pools into his mouth from his torn lip. He does not care, he cannot muster it. His mind is only set on trying to hold onto whatever scrapes of Anthony he can reach. His fingers itch to reach into his chest and carve his heart out, yank out each shard until it stands complete in all of its shattered glory, and present its jagged pieces to Crowley as a final parting gift. 

If you must die tomorrow, then die knowing that my heart, my very essence, belongs to you. Leave me knowing that it will never beat without you near, that I cannot bear to live in a world that you are not in. Take its shards with you and keep them as a memento of me until we can meet again in another life, another realm; wear them as if they are a part of you because they are. Our souls are bound, woven together in their very foundation. I am yours, Anthony, body and soul, forever and always, even in our separation, especially our death. For if the gallow floors drop tomorrow at sunset, it will not just kill you but me as well.

---------

What you just read is a small portion of my current work in progress, Deliverance, the Greatest Gift, and an Ineffable Husband Human AU, which primarily takes its inspiration from the song Devil's Backbone by the Civil Wars. So far, the working summary is this:

Aziraphale Fell has resigned himself to his destined life in the town of Tadfield, the life laid out by both his father's dying wish and the God he spends his weekends worshiping. It may not be the life he always dreamed of as a boy, an expansive bookshop full of antiquities in the bustling city of London. However, it's still a good life: playing the piano during church services while his elder brother Gabriel leads the congregation, living a quiet life wed to a respectable man hand-picked by his father before his passing. It's a good life chosen by the almighty herself, and Aziraphale is doing everything he can to make himself content with the fact of it until a mysterious figure by the name of Anthony J Crowley turns himself in to the local authorities, confessing to the crimes of murder and theft. On all accounts, Aziraphale knows he should want nothing to do with the man; he blazingly goes against everything his morals, upbringing, and religion have taught him. But as Crowley routinely comes in for a confession with Aziraphale's older brother, he cannot help but become intrigued with the supposed criminal in front of him, and the deeper he digs into what exactly led Crowley here, the more he comes to realize that there is something to be said about shades of gray in a world that was so black and white until that point.

This story is full of angst, pining, and religious imagery, so it's the standard Good Omens fanfic. And in case it is a must for you, yes, it has a happy ending because it is an absolute must. I will post more updates as I continue working on this bad boy, so if you're interested, feel free to stay tuned ❤️

Our very own Anthony J. Crowley as Caspar David Friedrich’s ‘The Wanderer Above The Sea Of Clouds’ looking over at the devastating bookshop scene from the concept art

My first piece of Gomens fanart. Creating art is totally new to me but I’m enjoying it so much!

Wanted to do this for ages then found out DT once posed as the character from this painting so was further inspired. Might change the hair to a Crowley fan fave..which to choose.,

Everything is coming up Ineffable for me today. Someone just gave me a bookmark - someone who has neither read nor watched Good Omens - and it’s starry-galaxy colored…

It says:

I CAN’T STOP

loving.missing.needing

YOU

…I can’t make this up

But now I can’t stop thinking…something about Crowley watching Aziraphale go back to heaven, thinking “I can’t stop you.”

“I can’t stop loving missing needing you”

"Do what you must, Angel. I don't think you can do the wrong thing"

ineffable inktober day 20

❄️frost❄️

lone serpent at the edge of the universe

You know that scene in Twilight after Bella turns and she realizes she and Edward can touch without being scared of getting hurt?

That is what I want when crowley and aziraphale are finally free. When they realize heaven won't make aziraphale fall and hell won't discorporate crowley completely. When they are safe, they reach out to each other, and maybe they're tentative at first but kind of melt into it. They slowly break down their walls and barriers. Then Aziraphale doesn't have to hold his own hand anymore because it will always be in crowley's.

This is what made me think of this:

They have to make excuses (like a dance at a Jane Austen Ball) just to get the smallest contact with each other. They deserve to be Out and proud.

if i fail you …

Hiya! New Ineffable Angst fic <3

—

Aziraphale has never seen Crowley cry. He’s been there in the rare moments the man-shaped being has done so, but Crowley always turns away or flees somewhere unknown. Aziraphale doesn't know that a piece of the Starmaker resides in Crowley, in the form of his tears.

Crowley’s tears are filled with Holy Water and every time he cries, his tears make themselves known on his cheeks as a form of scars and burns.

When Aziraphale leaves to heaven, Crowley hides in his beloved Bently to cry his sorrows away. He hoped it would be a short cry, one that goes just as quickly as it came and then he can return to his sarcastic and bitter self. But years go by and Crowley’s cheeks and hands have scarred over and he refuses to come out of hiding until a lighthearted and once naive angel pulls him out.

excerpt & tag list under the cut!!

Somewhere in his panic, Crowley’s beloved car had moved them to a small alley away from the bookshop and the slab of concrete. She played every tape he had in the car, on a low volume, her engine continued to rumble, the windows seemed to black out. All attempts to calm the demon that delved further into his own panic.

None of it seemed to work.

He wouldn't cry.

He wouldn't cry.

He wouldn't .

And then, his face began to sting. Trails of crystalline water ran through every dip and rise of his cheeks, leaving behind raw and red lines. If it was silent in and around the car, maybe he could've been able to hear the sizzle of burning skin as well.

Once one tear fell, the flood broke and so did the others. More and more, droplets of pure holy water cascaded and slid down onto his collarbone where it settled and burned a mark onto the freckled skin, smoke rising from the spot before it settled.

(tag list! @artkxddo @fruchox @chaoticvictorianspirit )