#[ crowley thread ]

[generalmoony]

Help me 🤡

[blairamok]

the babygirlification of crowley

[books-and-omens]

Oh. Oh WAIT. 

The Crow Road. You know, that book where the protagonist is searching for an answer to a conspicuous thing that happened. An answer that finally comes together through notes and omissions and bits of narrative and off-hand remarks.

And we were thinking that the book might be a clue for Muriel, or something to do with Aziraphale’s journals, or setup for the third season, or…

But the thing is. The thing is. 

What we are doing right now. What we are all doing right now.

We are the protagonist of The Crow Road.

The Crow Road was given to us.

[ingravinoveritas]

I've been seeing posts about some replies from AL on Twitter tonight, and wanted to share some of my thoughts. For those who might've missed it, Anna replied to the below thread--not once, but twice--despite not being tagged or mentioned anywhere in it:

The fanart above is based on an Ineffable Husbands AU fic that is currently published on AO3 and has nothing to do with Michael other than using his face for the character, which makes AL randomly leaving those inane comments an obvious bid for attention, as she would've had to be stalking fan accounts to find that tweet. To make matters worse, however, someone in the comments on one of the replies sent her a link to the fanfic in question. Particularly egregious is the fact that the person who sent the link was not the author, and the author is now (quite understandably) pissed off and upset about this.

I know there have been multiple discussions about this in the past, but apparently it needs to be repeated: It is absolutely NOT acceptable to send fanfic to creators/creator-barely-adjacent people, especially without the author's knowledge or permission.

Yes, we know Michael enjoys GO fanfic. Yes, we know he has read and likely written GO fanfic and probably RPF. That still does not make it okay to send him fics--at all, for any reason, but most significantly because if anyone knows where/how to find fics if he wants to read them, it's Michael. Also worth noting is that Anna is not Michael. Anna could dislike or be entirely disgusted by GO fanfic or AUs...in which case she could have commented on the photo edit as a way of making fun of it, thereby potentially setting the creator up for ridicule and/or harassment.

It's also distressing to see people in the comments on Twitter encouraging this behavior/cheering AL on while seemingly not caring one jot about the actual creator's feelings (especially when I know that several of the comments are fan artists themselves). I had honestly thought fans knew better than that by now, but it seems not, and to say that all of this is infuriating is an understatement...

EDIT: It's been brought to my attention that it was the person who created the Professor Fell AU/made the photo edits who was upset at Anna's comments, not the fic author (who linked their own fic, rather than someone else's). My apologies for any confusion...

[actual-changeling]

no i am not done with the breakup scene yet. it haunts me during the day and it haunts my dreams, soon i will be able to replay it in my head on command. today's obsession: tell me you said no

firstly, i think it's important to point out just how deep the miscommunication runs here. aziraphale is excited, outright giddy about the news he is delivering, and he expects crowley to be just as happy about them.

after all, he thinks he is giving crowley what he has always wanted - they can go off together, he can be an angel again, which to zira equals being on the good side. the side of *light*. he remembers crowley's creation, remembers how in awe and happy he was with it, and thinks that is what he is offering.

aziraphale's expressions during this scene are probably gonna be their own post, but long story short he switches between excited and confused like a broken light switch, unable to decide which one to settle on.

crowley, well, crowley is angry. angry and confused and completely caught off guard because aziraphale is shaking the very foundation of what crowley currently thinks to be their relationship. the horror dawns on him pretty early, but he tries to fight it off, tries to convince himself that no, aziraphale wouldn't. he wouldn't agree to that, he KNOWS me. he knows i don't want to go back, he knows both sides are equally bad.

tell me you said no. tell me i wasn't wrong about you, about us. tell me i didn't misjudge our entire relationship. tell me the last millennia were worth something, anything.

tell me you said no.

if you rewatch the scene, you will notice that crowley never breaks eye contact, he stares aziraphale down the entire time. unless it was literally blink and you will miss it, i am pretty sure he does not even blink. not once. aziraphale on the other hand is looking everywhere but at him, his gaze flicks around just as much as his expression. crowley tries again, one last time. tells him you know they will both destroy this planet, humanity, us. it doesn't matter which side wins, the result will be the same. we KNOW that. we SAW that. we stopped it from happening.

aziraphale does not answer.

he does not have to. crowley can read him well enough to know exactly what he responded, and even if he couldn't - he knew from the beginning. he just cannot believe the answer. he still can't.

it's one of his fatal flaws, isn't it, believing in aziraphale and in them against every rule and threat the universe throws at them.

now to get to the part that breaks my heart.

crowley repeats himself again, not breaking eye contact while aziraphale tries to avoid his gaze.

tell me you said no.

he still hopes. after that entire conversation, he still hopes.

when the silence stays unbroken he steps towards him, asking one. last. time.

angel tell me you said no.

this. this frame. this is when the realization hits him full force, the truth he has been trying to talk and rationalize his way out of. he has been begging aziraphale to tell him that he did not betray him, them.

everything he has been fighting for the last six thousand years, all the thoughts telling him he is worth less than aziraphale because he fell, because he is a demon, evil, on the wrong side. everything he has been unlearning, accepting that he can be kind, he can be good. accepting that aziraphale cares about him, fuck, maybe even loves him.

crowley thought aziraphale is the one being that sees him, truly sees him, which is why he offers himself without his glasses - his last layer of protection.

he betrayed us. he has never been with me, we have never been on our side, not when he chooses heaven over the fragile, peaceful existence they have carved out for themselves. he took care of the bookshop, allowed zira to take his bentley, cleaned up and tidied and prepared it for his return, for the both of them. just to get all of it thrown into his face, to have it degraded as not good enough. to have HIMSELF degraded as not good enough.

and after all that. after that realization, the pain, the break in what he thought was their reality.

after aziraphale telling him that he plans on leaving earth and wants crowley to be someone he is.

crowley swallows his tears and he steps back, keeps his glasses off and continues with his confession anyway. his voice breaks several times throughout it, he is on the verge of crying. i will probably make a separate post about all that but once again, tldr he suppresses tears throughout his entire speech.

i want to spend eternity with you and he cannot say it because he knows he would break on eternity and start crying. somehow, crowley still hopes that maybe this will change his mind, this will make him realize that he needs to stay here, stay with me.

crowley hopes and hopes and hopes and aziraphale finally meets his gaze and all he responds is nothing lasts forever.

no, i don't suppose it does.

still, what is left but to keep hoping that maybe one day, they will be an us, even if it isn't forever. even if it's just one day, one kiss, one second of being held and kissed back.

crowley keeps hoping and that, to me, is the most painful part of it all.

[theambergxmbler]

another starter? its more likely than you think! || @fellandfeathers

SCALES SCRAPE AND SLITHER against bark as the red belly of a massive serpent closes in on its prey, mindful of the leaves to keep its approach near-silent. It's near-silent because birds and animals scurry out of its path with the nature they were imbued with upon their VERY RECENT CREATION.

As it hones in on its unsuspecting victim, a black forked-tongue greets the air and an uncontrollable hiss emits from the creature. The painfully familiar smell of DIVINITY contracts the pupils of the snake to almost imperceptible slits that drown in pools of MOLTEN GOLD.

Its the smell that has it finally lowering from the sturdy branch to STRIKE. It doesn't strike with its dripping fangs, though, no.

It strikes with A GREETING.

❝ Breakin' rulesss again, Principality? ❞

[purrvaire]

good omens season 2 + text posts I have on my phone (3/?)

1 / 2

[super-andi-ness]

GOOD OMENS 2 SPOILERS BELOW:

The only peace I have in this dark hour is that Aziraphale will DEFINITELY have to do the dance when he pulls his head from his rectum.

[matchamilk400]

i just realized i havent posted this here soo

have some human au shenanigans ft. bee and tracy :D!

[fearandhatred]

oh hi. this did not in fact take only an hour to write but hey it's done! any support is so so appreciated <3

also thread of me lowkey liveblogging myself (not) writing this lmaoo

Summary:

A fun little side perk of being a demon is that Crowley only gets to see the world in shades of grey. That is, until that world is touched by one particular angel.

They say that it's not the fall that hurts, it's the landing. That's a partial truth, at least for him. The landing did hurt—his bones had shattered almost methodically, travelling through his legs and up his spine like a shiver; the whiplash from his head hitting the ground had felt like an explosion of guts in his mouth. But the fall had hurt, too. Because the wind had cut into his useless wings like knives, his skin and grace peeling away under the friction, and he had been looking right up at the multicoloured and unreachable expanse of sky just to see it fade from his eyes into dull greys. And that was that. For the indiscriminate time afterwards, he and all the other demons wandered Hell's corridors like strays, lost and trying to adjust to a new life where hope looked just as bleak as despair. They wore all black, because the identifiability of that darkest shade meant that they wouldn't have to worry about clashing colours. An inconsequential problem, maybe, almost laughable in its insignificance, but it was the one piece of self-dignity they could still control. Back then, that was everything.

eybe surprised me with a drawing based on the holi scene in this fic and i treasure it with all my heart and it captures my mental image of it perfectly. it's included in the fic now too <3 love you eybe

[ofginjxints]

closed starter for @ourcwnside, my beloved

Aziraphale had always had a soft spot for Italy, it was always such a hub for art and culture, the people were so lively, and the food! Oh, the food! He was sure he had tried all the pasta shapes he possibly could, but new ones were being created all the time - such clever and wonderful people.

It was the end of February and that meant one thing Carnevale di Venezia! The Italians did like an excuse to simply have fun and revel in one another's company and so did the angel. Opting for a half-faced mask stylised like a cat, ears and all, he had built his whole costume around it. It was brilliant gold and white, dramatic and striking - as was everybody around him.

The music was raucous upon the streets, there was dancing and plenty of wine that was already offered to him as he approached Piazza San Marco. He brought the glass to his lips and made his way around the square to take in all the sights. He was halfway through his glass when he was sure he felt the presence of...

He turned his head and ah, there she was.

[slipper007]

They're done :)

[ofknowlcdge]

Crowley and Ten with @xchxsingcxrsx

Crowley did not expect another him or someone with his face and he didn't seem human, he thinks he's somewhat good at spotting non-human. Would have to be good at that in all the thousands of years. "Who are you?" He hissed out, this is just great isn't it? Think a night can't get worse and it does, very much worse in that he's not exactly in the correct mood to deal with whatever this is.

[crowleys-bentley-and-plants]

I've been thinking about Crowley wanting Holy Water 'in case something goes wrong' in 1862. obviously he meant insurance against the other demons, but why does he think he needs a precaution against the demons? he ends up using it centuries later, so did he already realise in 1862 he would choose Aziraphale above them when it came to it? did he know there would be a confrontation in which he would need to use holy water? and if he did, when did he first realise it? when did he realise he would do anything for Aziraphale, even kill other demons? when did he realise he loved him? what happened between Paris, 1793 and London, 1862?

[ourcwnside]

❛ no matter what you think of yourself , i will always think you are worth loving . ❜ whichever way around of combos, aziracrow and raphzi and you decide setting/timeline <3

Soft Words, Soft Skin

Kind, gentle words, and it was not the first time Crowley had heard such a sentiment from Aziraphale, but as much as it was appreciated, it was harder to really believe. After all, he was a demon---and not just any demon, he was the demon that introduced sin to humanity. And Aziraphale was...Aziraphale. Good and compassionate, the best of all the angels, in Crowley's opinion. It never ceased to amaze him that he could possibly love him, and he certainly didn't think he deserved that love.

Yet that love was his all the same, and the fact that they were lying in their bed, the angel's arms around him, was proof.

"Mmm," Crowley made a soft noise of protest while his hands trailed down to slip underneath Aziraphale's shirt and trace aimless patterns against his skin. "I really don't deserve you, angel."

[guardian-of-soho]

Still in awe of how much I needed each season of good omens at exactly the times they came, and exactly as they were. Very curious if we will make it three for three.