lawrie ౨ৎ @hudsonoverdose - Tumblr Blog

By David G Fode (1968-2022) {via}

Some of the subtle clues that Aziraphale and Crowley switched bodies

Bonus - not so subtle anymore, where ‘Crowley’ is sitting prim and proper and ‘Aziraphale’ kind of lying on the bench (plus their reverse sitting position)

Bonus 2:

Bonus 3: We usually see Aziraphale under the sign E (east), but ‘Aziraphale’ under the opposite W (west)

bohoteacher

Why not reblog this now? It reminds me of some of my favorite scenes.

samirasystole

you guys know i usually compensate all the racism and misogyny towards samira by being overly supportive of her every fiber, but i do wanna say that i find her flaws very delicious.

like come on. she lacks trust towards her colleagues because her dad died from medical neglect and racism, and now she is overly cautious and does her best to prevent any mistakes even if that goal is futile and impossible. she wants to be the perfect doctor and has an HR manual in her head but also can't help it when her feelings take control when she has to treat cases that she feels specifically emotionally connected to. she's kind to students and encourages them to believe in themselves, but when they make a misstep she's quick to correct them, even if that can be blunt. she has the best patient satisfaction scores, but if her plan isn't taken seriously she defends herself and can stay rigid in her standpoint. she's data driven, detail oriented and wants what's best, but has a hard time accepting non conventional ways to treat patients outside of protocol. if she relates to a patient she goes above and beyond, but can't distance herself from them when something out of her control happens. she's dedicated and driven, working till she drops, but her lack of social life and friends has caused her to be closed off and refuse to accept any help. she has a full future plan worked out in great detail but has a literal panic attack when it blows up in her face and she realises she doesn't have a plan b. she can admit her mistakes, but they make her spiral so much that she immediately thinks she doesn't deserve her place in the ED. she wants to do everything she can to help people, but becomes her own obstacle in order to do so.

god, how can you not love this complicated, empathetic, kind, overthinking, tunnel-visioned, and control freakerish woman?? yeah, a lot of forces work against her, but samira is her own obstacle sometimes and that's what is so interesting and compelling about her. i love my darling and i will miss her deeply next season. bring her back i need her to be a control freak for nine more seasons. two wasn't enough

varsityhearts

no matter how bad it gets it cannot possibly be as bad as it was this time last year when i was using all my free time to replace the music in captain america the winter soldier with 2000s pop hits

ilyapasta

Do you know—um. Do you know where my boxers went?

Hollander is on the wrong side of the bed. Ilya wills him to move, to answer the question himself. The underwear are by the chair, where Ilya sat while they were still laughing. While they were playing. Right before Hollander really started to perform. Boxers flying across the room. Fingers inside for Ilya to see.

Hollander frees the blanket from the bed while he walks around looking. Clutches it to his chest, stumbling over the too-long lumpiness of it. Hollander shouldn't be uncomfortable being naked. This shouldn't be different from the locker room.

Over there, Ilya says, with a pointing movement of his chin.

It's not a helpful instruction. Hollander looks around, barely breathing, the frown deep on his mouth like a scar. He doesn't look like he can see well. It's dim, sure. But he looks like he is seeing something other than the room in front of him.

Ilya taps another cigarette from the pack. Hollander looks at him because of the noise, like Ilya will be holding what he's looking for. Ilya has nothing.

Oh, okay. Over here, Hollander whispers, to no one. He doesn't put on the underwear. He holds them to his chest, letting the blanket trail behind him until he releases it totally, disappearing into the next room.

Ilya listens to Hollander ready himself to leave. He must unfold his clothes. He must pull them over a sweaty body. Hollander likes being clean. He would normally shower. Ilya doesn't offer and Hollander doesn't ask. Ilya doesn't feel like showering either. He feels like taking an imprint of the night with him. Maybe the empty shell of Hollander's body around him will work to keep him upright when daylight comes. A husk to one side and the cup on the other, uneven pillars. Maybe a memory can keep him whole.

He puts the cigarette in his mouth.

Okay, I'm off.

Goodbye Hollander.

Ilya will think about what it all means another time. For now, he has summer to contend with.