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And the fact is, Crowley doesn’t even know where to put the pain anymore. So they keep it locked inside of themselves. They can feel it in their blood, irrigating their human vessel, making their veins burn and their throat close.

Because, as their last act of love, Crowley won’t scream Aziraphale's name in anger—the name they used to whisper so softly, rolling their eyes in affection every time they tasted it on their tongue. Crowley won’t poison it with the bitterness of their sorrow, won't pollute that image of him that keeps haunting them.

As their last act of love, Crowley will implode, silently and selfishly —letting the version of Aziraphale they adored and cherished collapse with them, merging with the nearest supernova and daring to outshine it.

And when Crowley were to fade into nothing, they might find comfort—for nothing is what Crowley and Aziraphale had always been.

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I love how in the G.O. lore we are always painting Crowley as this tragic, poetic mess of a demon who helped Freddie Mercury writing Love of My Life or Somebody to Love at 3 a.m., glass of wine in hand, heart on their sleeves.

But let’s be honest—if there's one song he canonically helped write, it’s I’m in Love with My Car.

I swear that demon locked himself with Roger Taylor in that damned cupboard just to prove their song was just that good.

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This is who Metatron is being a bitch to btw

Silly ^_^

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Silly ^_^

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Changing my belief system from "this is the hill I'll die on" to "this is the hill I'll kill you on" has done absolute wonders for me 10/10 do recommend

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You'll never fuck a weird bitch if you have no whimsy

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CROWLEY: What do you mean, “you lost it” ?!

AZIRAPHALE: It means I’ve no recollection of where I last saw it. It has, quite mysteriously, vanished.

CROWLEY: It’s a rearview mirror ! It should’ve never left the Bentley!

AZIRAPHALE: Well… I was in a bit of a hurry, and I needed to apply my blush on the way to that interview—

CROWLEY: Couldn’t you just, I don’t know — miracle it on?

AZIRAPHALE: That seems like such a dreadful waste, my dear.

CROWLEY: What about last Thursday? Ring any bells? Certain angelic being wasting their power to fix their mug?

AZIRAPHALE: Excuse me! That was different.

CROWLEY: Oh yeah? How exactly?

AZIRAPHALE: That was my favourite piece from the “Crowley’s Trips Collection”.

AZIRAPHALE: Chicago, remember? A few years ago. The one with the wing-shaped handle and “Angel Fuel” printed on it?

CROWLEY (quietly): Yeah.

AZIRAPHALE: Then you’d see why I’d hardly call that a waste, love.

CROWLEY (internally): Well, fuck me..

CROWLEY (out loud): What about—uhm—when—ngkkk—I am still missing my mirror!!

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You know Aziraphale read this and took the deepest breath

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I cannot wrap my head around the fact that the Great Emu War of 1932 actually happened. Like— it's an actual historical fact.

And let me tell you, Crowley 1000% started it.

Some veteran farmer probably killed a snake—brutally— in front of them and Crowley was like, "Oh, you wanna kill family? Watch this"

Like, what do you mean they sent actual soldiers with MACHINE GUNS to fight the giant birds —and the BIRDS ALMOST WON?

And in one ambush, the guns just... jammed ? Impeccable work from the Ineffable Husbands, I must say.

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torn (apart and between)

✦ this was inspired by Gustav Klimt’s “The Kiss“ painting.

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Aziraphale, reading: "The devil hath power to assume a pleasing shape." (Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2)

Aziraphale: looks over his shoulder where Crowley is sprawled in his armchair, black shirt slightly risen above his waist and red hair falling into his eyes.

Aziraphale, murmuring: ...that's so fucking true.

*procedes to mark the page with a yellow tab*

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It is one of those days when Crowley would prefer a simpler corporeal form, and that's how they'd end up a tiny, curled-up snake tucked away in Aziraphale's pocketwatch pocket.

And then, a stranger walks into the bookshop and tries to flirt with Aziraphale.

Aziraphale is quick to clarify, "I’m flattered, but I’m taken." aND THEN Crowley's tiny head emerges from the pocket, eyes narrowing as he hisses:"Yeah, turn those heelsssss around, asssshole."

*One memory miracle later...*

Aziraphale: *sighs, exasperated* "How many times? You cannot hiss at clients"

Crowely: *slithers indignantly* "He sssstarted it!!!"

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Aziraphale: "We should see other people, you know, to deceive Heaven and Hell"

Crowley: *changes their corporeal form* "Better?"

Aziraphale: *sighs, shaking his head* "That's not quite what I meant, darling."

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So. Crowley definitely helped write Stars by Simply Red. Like…

“Stay a minute, can’t you see that I wanna fall from the stars straight into your arms, I feel you, I hope you comprehend” ???

“A lover’s promise never came with a maybe”

“So many words are left unspoken, the silent voices are driving me crazy”

Bruh.

Be. For. REAL. Too niche?

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Maaann I want to snuggle with Aziraphale soooooo fucking baddddd