Heya, Happy News Everyone!  Chapter 9 of It Never Hurts To Keep Looking For A Sunshine!! There Gonna

Heyyy, here is new picture of two morons, for new chapter of It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine and I dare to quote my dear friend and author of this fic @elfontheshelves: Aziraphale must be completely blind cause that is the look of a completely smitten man. Yes, it is. He is fucked. Welcome to cool mornings, warm hands and scarfs, and unexpected but endearing meetings. Lot of fluff and fun, I promise, I melted at the spot. 

Among the stars you are the brightest.

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I had NO IDEA what awaited me after first sight of this. I fell in love with every character, every shot and duck and I started the biggest seeking after book in my language (never happen, never translated, but found in similar language from '97 after 2 months), reading, rewatching, discovering amazing artists and writers, rewatching, rewatching, and finally I was forced to read in English (never do before) script book and wonderful fanfics.  Today, I read stories in English every day. Every day I read comics, every day I find new fanart and every day my heart is filled with love of this two idiots. Thank you, Terry and Neil. Thanks to everyone of the warmest fandom in the world, you are great.

Just two dudes chillin in the kitchen Vol 2 Here we go folks, this chapter gonna be VERY hot-blooded but sweet and soft, as always. These two morons in love give me so much happiness in my life. Hope everybody could be so happy, content and comfy like they are right now, right here. Elf, you bloody brilliant writer, keep write please (smut or not, just keep) you are doing great ♡ P.S. they are nekkid

Could someome make me tea, please?

It’s midnight.

They’re on the steps of the Ritz, and the moon is full, and a nightingale had sung in Berkeley Square. The air is fresh, crisp, soft, right after a quick rain, and they’re both looking at the Bentley, which is parked across the street without a droplet

They realize that there isn’t a car puttering across otherwise, that it’s quiet, that they are the last to leave the establishment after getting totally and utterly sloshed in the name of the world not ending.

Then they’re looking at each other. The golden light coming from the windows is spraying across Aziraphale’s pink face, and he’s smiling, and Crowley is smiling right back. They are a couple of drunk morons standing outside in the twilight, basking in each other’s company.

Is this not love?

“Need a lift?” Crowley asks this partly as an inside joke, partly as a literal inquiry; there’s something very slightly pained in his voice - an expectation. An expectation that this night would end as any other would between them: with Crowley sprawled across his own bed, in the dark, lamenting what he did and did not say, and Aziraphale awake all night, curled up with a book he pretends he is reading.

It’s fear, not pain. That nothing would change. Or rather - that they wouldn’t know that nothing had changed.

Now, Aziraphale is drunk, yes. But he is not drunk enough to note the slight panic Crowley is masking, and his smile is even pretty as it fades to something still warm, but serious.

“My dear…”

Crowley feels a lump in his throat, and tries to remember if he thoroughly chewed what little food he had had this evening.

They’re staring at each other. They’re looking at each other and seeing each other, even past Crowley’s glasses. Because the golden glow from behind just barely renders them useless, and matches his eyes just so.

“Where are you?” Aziraphale whispers.

“-What?” Something high-pitched, surprised.

“Where are you, dear? Are you with me? Here? Now?”

“What kind of a- yes- yes of course, where else would I be?”

“Because- dear- I… I would like to hold your hand.”

The request catches Crowley off-guard; he’s halfway thinking through a clever comeback to whatever Aziraphale would have said next when suddenly, his heart aches, and he’s forced to acknowledge what he hopes is the outcome of the evening. And he’s not talking about sharing a bed - no.

Suddenly, he’s flustered about their hands, touching, and he knows he wouldn’t be able to make that leap even if he wanted to, not yet. No, he’s suddenly shivering, vibrating, with eyes darting to his angel’s outstretched hand.

Stupid, stupid, you’re fucking up, oh fuck-

So he jerks his body into motion, looking like he was just struck by lightning, and breathes out into the crackling air to carefully - carefully - press his left hand to Aziraphale’s, fingertips to wrist, palm to palm. His own is smooth, bony, cold, but it feels like he had just rested it on warmed silk. Soft, broad, welcoming.

They’re standing there. They’re staring at each other. They’re staring at their hands, at their ring fingers pressed side by side, imagining what it would be like to have matching bands clink together every time they did this hereafter. To be known this intimately, to know the lines of each other’s palms without practicing, is a gift both of them can give.

Crowley is the first to move; he caressed his thumb across Aziraphale’s, finds a pliant joint that folds around his fingers, welcomes him against his skin, against his body.

“We’re holding hands…” he murmurs, is greeted by the return of that angelic smile.

“That we are, darling.”

Now, it feels as if his heart has stopped completely. A heat creeps up from his chest to the tips of his ears, and gathers in his cheeks.

Suddenly, he is home. And he knows that everything - and nothing, thankfully - has changed.

“Walk me home now, dear. I’ll make us some tea.”

I cant resist first quick sketch, made with love

Hi guys, I just realized I got up in four hours, so, time to sleep now, no more drawing (but it’s really hard if you dowload new incredible brushes, by Kyle, yeah, 300 NEW BRUSHES!!)

I am not satisfied of shading etc, and I don’t speak about anatomy & physics of shape and light.. but I really like this nose cuddling (sorry, but English is not my first language)

As of today 14028 Aziraphale/Crowley fanfics have been posted on ao3 since the release of season two

Which means that on average 77.5 fanfics are being published per day

That’s 3.23 fanfics per hour

0.05 fanfics per minute

So in conclusion:

Every twenty minutes a new Aziraphale/Crowley fanfic is being written

Hello people! One very talented writer and my triviality was paired by Reverse Bang by @do-it-with-style-events​ and she wrote an amazing fic you want to read!  And also I did the art. Look, there is Chapter 1! I’m the happiest person to work with @elfontheshelves, she is super sweet and she made other great, if not more scrumptious, fics on AO3!

Sne(a)k peek of @ami-v-dragnire DTIYS!

Not sure when I’ll finish it, no time, no life, but I really enjoyed drawing these two fools in love (because they are ^^) and I would draw them until the end of my days if I could.