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junebugsinmay

THEY MADE HIM AN ASTROPHYSICIST IM FUCKING SOBBING

ineffiblehusbands

😭😭

soapybananaz

Nothing lasts forever…

ineffiblehusbands

😭😭😭

sherlock-is-ace

Can we please talk about how Maggie and Nina in season 1 played the nuns making the baby switch. With the iconic missunderstanding wink scene.

where it explicitly says what each of them thought the wink meant to the other, and how in reality it meant something completely different. And that missunderstanding almost brings down the end of the world?

And then in season 2, Maggie and Nina are the characters with the best communication in the show. Who sit Crowley down and give him a chat about how Aziraphale and him just don't talk to each other, don't communicate.

And that leads to the biggest missunderstanding Crowley and Aziraphale ever had? Bringing down the end of their world, the end of each other?

Can we talk about that please?

ineffiblehusbands

HOW DID I NOT REALISE THEY ARE THE SAME PEOPLE!!!

Sooo it's been a while... anyway I'm back !!

INEFFIBLE HUSBANDS ARE REAL

So I'm going to cry in the corner about the new season for a while and then watch it all again

Over this scene in particular!!!!

Thats all for now folks

Love ya ❤️

#ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #these guys are too pure #aziraphale #crowley #ineffible husbands #ineffable partners #ineffable idiots #ineffable spouses #ineffable #belzebubs #gabriel #definitely gay #good omens #good omens 2

ineffablegame

I wasn’t aware that bisexual bobs were a thing? And I genuinely need a haircut. How deep am I gonna go askdhskdjdksdjs

ineffablegame

I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna bob my hair. maybe get a little side-bang action if I’m feelin’ bold. I’m gonna get my bob and cuff my jeans and wear flannels and fuck it, let’s throw some doc martens into the mix because i might as well broadcast myself lOUDLY

ineffiblehusbands

This is my daily inner monologue

Howdy all! It's my birthday tomorrow so please send me your best good omens gifs, fanfiction or pictures!

#good omens #birthday #aziraphale #crowley #i love you all

fuckyeahgoodomens

ineffiblehusbands

fuckyeahgoodomens

I actually decided I wanted David halfway through writing Episode Three. And every moment after that, I was writing Crowley for David. Every moment before that, I was writing ‘a Crowley’, but it was the scene 1941, in the Blitz, where I realized: I’m writing a scene in a church, Aziraphale is in there, there are Nazi spies, he thinks he’s being really clever, but actually he’s not, he’s in all sorts of trouble and Crowley has to come down the aisle of the church and rescue him. And of course, Crowley is now on consecrated ground - so he’s like a man on really, really hot sand on the beach. He’s walking down like: ‘ow, ow, ow, ow, ow’. And I’m writing the scene and I thought: David Tennant. There is no other human being I could think of who I want to do this scene. - Neil Gaiman, March 2019, SXSW

the-art-of-avoiding-armageddon

(kudos to @pretty-damn-smart)

ineffiblehusbands

lazarusemma

the thing about immortality, you see, is that it is such a very long time to be on your own.

sure, the first few centuries slide by, and sometimes you blink and it’s the next millennium and you’re left wondering where does the time go, and you get drunk and ponder the passage of time for an indeterminate amount of time and by the time you’re sober again the humans have come up with more ways to get drunk. but it doesn’t matter how much time you waste, really, because there is always going to be more of it. always. forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and…

you get drunk a few more times. the evers keep coming.

the thing about earth is that it’s neither of heaven nor of hell. not in any beautiful, poetic, pulitzer-prize metaphorical sense; earth is just very literally not either place, and being stationed here makes it much harder to relate to those who aren’t also here. long-distance coworkers are very difficult to get along with. so you’re here, forever, and there’s no one who gets it.

well. there’s one.

there shouldn’t be. there’s not supposed to be any common ground between you, but you’re on earth, and what’s more common ground than that? and so it happens that a demon and an angel strike up a conversation. and then another. and another, because you will keep running into the only other face who’s remaining constant, in this mortal plane. the colleagues are so far off and he is here; and neither of you will say it but he knows what it’s like. to be here, to be alone, to be just a little bit lonely.

the thing about humans is that they die. when your life expectancy is an infinity sign with a bit of fine print, befriending a human is like watching a time-lapse of a sunset. a plant shriveling overnight. you can try (and you will, a few times, out of sheer desperation, a visceral longing for someone) and you can put it off as long as possible, but there’s no getting around it. you’re left with empty hands and an aching heart and another memory you will never live long enough to lose (but it would be worse to forget, wouldn’t it, and to know that you would?), and the certainty that there is no one else.

(except one.)

the only constant, the only one who would be able to keep up, and he is absolutely off-limits. another of the universe’s fun little jokes. but if the universe has a sense of humor, perhaps it also has a sense of drama: you do it anyway. you talk to him. you smile at him. you laugh with him.

(you love him. oh, how you love him. there aren’t enough evers to say how much.)

the thing about fear is that sometimes it is an extension of love. you want him safe so much more than you want him to be yours. you want him – you have wanted him for so long, so long, and the wonder of it is that you can want him for eons and he will still be there, he will last through the ages – but more: you want him whole, and safe, and happy. even if he cannot be these things and yours. you are used to sacrificing what you want. you haven’t gotten anything you wanted in a long, long time (so many lifetimes of desperate neediness, so many times hearing no, and sometimes the voice is your own).

hold back. don’t let him get into any real trouble. (you can handle it; it’s him you’re worried about, always him and never yourself.) you have all the time in the world, after all; you can wait. you tell yourself you can wait. you do not ask yourself what you are waiting for.

the thing about armageddon is that it’s an expiration date on your infinity sign. there is, abruptly, a specificity to your slice of eternity. you do not have forever. your chance at happily ever after is disappearing with the rest of the evers. your coworkers are calling for war, for an end to life as you know it, and one of you might end and then the other will be alone: truly, properly alone for the first time. you are not capable of it.

you are also not capable of stopping it. it’s all rather a mess, but what did you expect? the world’s coming to an end. everything’s gone wrong, and it only gets worse, and you’re on your own again. when were you last alone? he’s gone. he won’t be back.

but he is. when the disaster is averted, when the clouds part, he is still here. he is with you. the only constant. the fabric of reality has been stretched to its tearing point a dozen times in the past week but he was there as he always is. as he always will be. there is no time limit, there is no deadline.

there is an unbroken string of evers leading out into eternity and a hand in yours.

the thing about immortality, you see, is that it provides such a lot of time to spend making up for missed opportunities.

ellenripleysbelieveitornot

“Aziraphale,” Crowley groaned in exasperation.

“Just a second, darling, I’m almost done- Oh! Hold this,” Aziraphale said, as he added another book to the stack in Crowley’s arms that already went well above his head.

Crowley sighed, but did not complain any further. In truth, he knew that this was the way his day was going to go the moment he had spied the used bookstore down the street from the restaurant where Aziraphale had suggested they have lunch.

Luckily, he had been able to usher Aziraphale inside to sit down and enjoy their meal before the angel had noticed the little shop with the adorable sign, but they had hardly stepped back outside before Crowley heard Aziraphale’s excited little ‘ooh!’

Several hours and three stacks of books later (he had already taken two to the register, paid for them, and loaded them into the Bentley; Aziraphale hadn’t noticed his absence either time and simply gave him more books to hold when he got back,) and Crowley was beginning to wonder if they should apply for a change of address and have all their mail forwarded here, since this was apparently where they lived, now.

“And take this one.” Aziraphale handed him another book, and then let out an annoyed sigh as he turned around. “Crowley,” he said crossly. “Why are you holding so many books?”

Crowley silently peered around the stack to give him an unimpressed stare.

“Er, right,” Aziraphale had the decency to look at least a little sheepish. “I suppose we should take these to the register, then.”

Finally, Crowley left the store with several bags of books and Aziraphale at his side. He loaded the new bags into the backseat with the others, and when Aziraphale saw how many there were he let out a cry of dismay.

“Oh, Crowley!”

“What?” Crowley looked over the books carefully, thinking he had damaged some of them in one of his trips to the car, but they looked fine. “What?” he asked again.

“You weren’t supposed to let me buy anything,” he said, letting out a frustrated huff of breath. “You know we don’t have room for these!”

“Would you like to return them?” Crowley asked patiently

Aziraphale looked scandalized.

“That’s what I thought.” Crowley laughed fondly. “Come on, Angel.” He climbed into the driver’s seat and Aziraphale slid into the passenger seat next to him. “We’ll find room for these somewhere. Maybe we can get throw away all the pastries and keep them in the kitchen cupboards.”

Aziraphale gasped in horror. “You wouldn’t dare!”

Crowley leaned over and gently kissed Aziraphale. “Of course not, Angel,” he said with a grin as he started the car. “I’ll just have to move out so you can have more room for your books.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale sounded more offended by that suggestion than he had at the returning of the books or the tossing out of the pastries, and Crowley laughed loudly as he peeled away from the curb.

That one gif where Crowley slams Aziraphale against the wall, you know the one. It almost looks like Crowley is thrusting into Aziraphale 👀

I have never noticed that and I'll never see that scene the same again! Thank you! You're my first ever ask too hi!

yuhengwanye

We all adore tender and gentle Crowley and Aziraphale, yes, but these are two bitches who are both IMMORTAL and PETTY and they have absolutely have jokes that reach back centuries. Crowley went to six (6) medical lectures in Bologna in 1261 and now takes the opportunity to lord it over Aziraphale at every opportunity. Aziraphale teases him by asking about his humours are today, and after one too many times of Aziraphale addressing him as Doctor Crowley he fucking applies to medical school. He sits exams. He does rounds. All so that the next time Aziraphale looks at him smugly over his wine glass and makes a jab at his medical expertise Crowley can take out the degree certificate which he has kept in the back pocket of his jeans for the last three years and slide it across the table.

Aziraphale gets a doctorate in art history. His thesis is on theories about the composition of the Mona Lisa. Crowley does a Masters in Librarian Studies to really hit Aziraphale where it hurts.

Aziraphale studies city planning and civil engineering.

Crowley goes to Japan for a few years and becomes a wakiita.

Aziraphale gets a driving license. Oh, now it’s fucking ON. Crowley gets a job at the British Library. Aziraphale goes on a stunt driving course. He hates every second of it and cries after most lessons, but he gets the fucking certificate and frames it and hangs it where he knows Crowley will be able to see it. It doesn’t go quite according to plan. Crowley will be bitching about the British Library’s accession standards and he’ll notice that Aziraphale is burning a hole through his face with the pride and delight in his eyes. Or he’ll be plotting another spike in London road rage incidents and Aziraphale will say, “No, if you really want to put a pinch on traffic flow, you need to consider diverting HERE,” and Crowley stares at him with heart-stopping adoration.

And when he’s at his Graduation ceremony, receiving his Masters in Book Conservation, let’s see the angel talk about my driving now, haha, this one will really fuck with him, Crowley looks up and THE BLOODY ANGEL IS THERE IN THE AUDIENCE, how did the bastard even find out about this?

Welcome to the hellscape which @tartan-thermos and I cannot escape.

tartan-thermos

If there’s one good thing you can say about me, it is that I am willing to spiral incoherently at a moment’s notice.

Honestly, though. The first time Aziraphale looks up from his desk to see Anthony ‘I don’t read’ Crowley waggling a copy of Two Treatises at him and going, “Oi, angel, need a new endband here; spine’s gone all floppy,” he is obliged to close the shop IMMEDIATELY, and nobody sees either of them for about a week and a half.

ineffiblehusbands

yes yes yes YES