Everyone's always going on about Crowley/David Tennant being the slutty one with his slutty little walk and his slutty and unusual little relationship with furniture but no one talks about slutty Aziraphale/Michael Sheen and his slutty little expressions every time he looks at Crowley, the harlot
Michael Sheen is a master of micro-expressions and knew what he was doing.
DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN? DAVID AFTERCARE AUDIO WHEN?
"I'm only asking for strength for my days. Teach me the art of small steps."
1 @soracities || 2, 3 shanna van maurik || 4 winter of artifice by anaïs nin || 5 hermann hesse, in an excerpt from hermann hesse on little joys, breaking the trance of busyness, and the most important habit for living with presence, the marginalian || 6 café terrace at night (place du forum, arles), Vincent van Gogh || 7 oamul lu || 8 leaves, lloyd Schwartz || 8 tony kushner, angels in america || 10 dead poets society || 11 a prayer, antoine de saint-exupéry
Many are my names in your languages.
And many my shapes.
Myriad stories you've written.
Some to tarnish and befoul my name.
Words born of fear spoken in hushed tones; as if my very name conjures misfortune and tragedy.
Theirs is ignorance passed down like a curse; a shadow of fear that pollutes everything they touch.
Your faiths have been created to ward me off.
As if your prayers could destroy me.
The mere thought of me makes you tremble.
Long before the first creature opened their eyes I have been.
Long before the first nebula lit the void, I have been.
What are your superstitions to me?
I shall lay your deceptions of me bare.
Your lies shall rot before me.
My rays of truth shall pierce through your deceit.
And your charlatanerie will be exposed.
Yet, you who'd walk beside me;
You, who would seek my company.
Plenty my gifts shall be.
I demand no idols be erected in my name.
And no prayers said.
I shall have no sacred texts.
Or prophets to claim to speak for me.
Bow not your heads, for we are equals.
Our light is one and the same.
My kin are the persecuted, the hunted
And those who have fallen for speaking truths
That have threatened tyrannical regimes.
Scientists, philosophers and poets.
Political activists and those who seek to make the world
A better place.
Have yourselves no heroes or saints; but learn from one another.
Make love and truth your highest goals.
And stomp out lies and ignorance wherever you may find them.
Look within yourselves and there you shall find me.
my incredible friend @quietdoppelganger commissioned me to draw my own oc. My 'true form' take on the orthodox Archangel Selaphiel.
|Caption deleters & self promoters blocked| No unauthorized use or reposts| Commissions open| insta: unfoxme| twitter: unfoxme| click for better quality or check my artstation|
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIFT OF MARY
"Jesus, my sweet Lamb, that my heart might be your cradle.
I hold Him and will not let Him go because I chose Him for all my Good."
~Lataille