#aziraphale listening to i will follow you into the dark and crowley listening to take me to church... everything to me

[mbat]

btw i know the playlists were just by amazon and are meant to be a character vibes thing and not literally what the characters are going to listen to BUT yall can take them listening to those songs from my cold dead hands tbh

[books-and-omens]

Heyyyyyy I’d really like to talk more about the ball, who’s with me.

Because for all its glitter, the ball is dark. No, seriously, it’s dark. It’s eerie, it’s disturbing, and the narrative doesn’t shy away from showing us just how much. 

As in a classic fairytale, mortals are being spirited away into another realm to dance through the night. Here, however, we see exactly who is orchestrating the dance, and why.

And we empathize with him, but watching Aziraphale has never been so painful or so unsettling.

Nina arrives distraught and is immediately hit with the realization that she doesn’t feel distraught, even though she knows she should be feeling it. She confronts Aziraphale and he just tells her: oh yes! :) no long faces tonight! And she is disturbed throughout the ball, thinks she is losing her mind, questions and fights the enchantment… but from time to time, the enchantment still takes hold.

And just—

Aziraphale. Aziraphale, you do know that manipulating people is wrong, don’t you? You… do know that? And yes, of course, neither Crowley’s nor Aziraphale’s approach to morality is human. They are eldritch, they are otherworldly. It was Crowley who changed the paintball guns into real guns in S1, though of course, the humans still had choice in using them.

But the ball is still different.

We’ve never seen Aziraphale do anything quite so disturbing before, or go so obviously deep into his own delusion. There are moments during these scenes when even Crowley, permanently frustrated, is very nearly disturbed. (“Angel! What are you doing?” or “Making it rain is one thing, but a BALL?”)

I fully think that by that point in the story, Aziraphale is not all right. He is in an anxiety spiral, denying reality fiercely, obstinately, disastrously, not listening to any of Crowley’s hissed warnings. Yes, yes, he is giddy, he is in love. It’s so very important for him that everything go RIGHT this night, the night he gets to dance with Crowley. Is he even aware of everything he is conjuring up, of the enchantment he has woven? The humans who step through the doors of the bookshop change: their clothing, their mood, their speech patterns… By this point, is Aziraphale doing this consciously at all? Or is reality conforming to his expectations, forcing everyone into a replica of the nineteenth century while Aziraphale himself, distracted and smitten, works himself up to inviting Crowley to dance?

In the first few episodes, as fear and danger grow, as Aziraphale is faced with the danger specifically to Crowley (I don’t see why he would risk his existence for you, Shax tells him in the car), Aziraphale only denies reality all the more fiercely, only holds on to his plans tighter, only puts more force into them and exerts more control (really, rather like the archangels with their Great Plan).

And the ball, beautiful and otherworldly and eerie as it is, is also a dire warning. 

In the morning, it will be Crowley, not Aziraphale, who will get told off for manipulating Nina and Maggie. Aziraphale won’t reflect on this. He won’t be forced to reflect, and Metatron will manipulate him in turn.

There is a plan to follow. The show must go on.

GOD the ball is so dark.

[humbledragon669]

S1E3 – Hard Times Write Up P3 - Paris (1793) and St. James’s Park (1862)

Alright, first thing’s first for this scene. For those of you that haven’t seen the script, the translation of the executioner’s entrance speech is as follows:

Ah, the music of the blade, and the joy of the people. Beautiful, no? Now, let us inspect your neck.

Alas, nothing of hidden meaning there. Something I did pick up on when I was watching this scene back is that just after the executioner’s (Jean-Claude) entrance, an execution takes place offscreen. It’s talked about, and we are informed that the victim here was female. In what seems to be a really dark bit of humour here, it actually sounds like this is a botched execution. The audio for this scene is below - you’ll need to listen carefully as the script continues over the background soundtrack, but to me it sounds like we hear the falling of the blade, followed by a female scream that does not stop when we hear the thump of the guillotine hitting its target.

Jean-Claude even laments over the poor work that the executioner does, and that Aziraphale is lucky that he will not be executed by the inexperienced knave. I have a pretty dark sense of humour, but even I feel like I would rather believe the screams we can hear are of a spectator, perhaps a loved one of the condemned, distressed at the scene. *shudder*

Moving on to something a bit lighter, we have a reminder of the noise we should be associating with Crowley’s time freeze miracles – that little wobble board noise played over the miracle whoosh (not to mention the underlying tingly sort of noise that can be heard throughout the scene as the time freeze stays in place). Just why Aziraphale doesn’t realise that Jean-Claude has frozen until Crowley actually speaks is a mystery to me. Too caught up in his own impending administrative perils perhaps. What is less mysterious is how the angel feels about Crowley’s unannounced arrival in his cell.

There’s no denying that Aziraphale is delighted that Crowley has appeared – that little smile is pure reflex and he all but breathes his name. I’m sure some people will read it as relief as his friend showing up just when he needs help, but I am not one of them. The painfully obvious once over that he gives Crowley tells us everything we need to know about Aziraphale’s true feelings here. And then there’s that “good Lord” line – it’s not the only time we hear somebody refer to Crowley in this way. It’s an interesting choice of words for sure and if it wasn’t for the way that the angel is drooling looking at Crowley, who I should point out hasn’t exactly positioned himself in what one might call a demure pose, I’d say that he was trying to sound disdainful.

We’re treated to the first (chronologically speaking) mention of the book shop in this scene. There are a couple of other sources that fill in some gaps for us on this front – Neil himself confirmed that Aziraphale bought the land for the shop in the 1630s and the Script Book contains a deleted scene that shows the book shop would be opened in 1800. Seeing as it’s a feature of the series that will become so integral, it’s nice that we’re given a bit of its backstory.

We’re also given a bit of insight to Aziraphale’s insatiable appetite for human food in this scene. Whilst we as the audience have already been given some context around this, it’s only now we see just how strong his attachment to food is. After all, he abandoned his book shop opening plans and travelled to Paris at the height of a revolution that targeted the aristocracy whilst dressed head-to-toe in finery just to get some crepes. Crowley’s expression of disbelief when he finds out that this foolish errand has been driven by pastry-lust feels as though it embodies the thought process of everyone bearing witness to this conversation:

Aziraphale doesn’t appear to think his actions are out of order though. What’s interesting is that his attention is engaged not by the dressing-down he’s receiving, but by Crowley’s use of a particular phrase:

There’s an incredibly subtle eyebrow raise at Crowley’s use of the word “nibble” – it comes a split second before he talks about Aziraphale’s choice of clothing. It’s a real blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, so I cut it and slowed it down a little to demonstrate:

As if the angel hadn’t given enough of a clue about how he’s feeling about Crowley’s presence. Honestly, he needs to tell his face to stop giving away his heart’s desires so obviously. Though I’m not sure how much of his heart is involved in that flirty little expression.

At this point we find out that Aziraphale has been reprimanded for performing too many frivolous miracles, to which Crowley responds that the angel is lucky he was in the area. This does raise an interesting question about Crowley always being around when Aziraphale most needs him.

There’s something quite knowing about this exchange – as if they know luck really didn’t have anything to do with it. I don’t think that they were in Paris together, or that Aziraphale even knew Crowley was in Paris - the bit of the conversation about the book shop opening and Crowley’s disbelief at the purpose of the trip is enough for me to believe Aziraphale genuinely didn’t know of the other’s proximity. I do however think that it’s unlikely this is the first time that Crowley has “conveniently” been in just the right place at the right time for Aziraphale, and that they both know there’s more at play than luck. My money’s on Crowley always knowing exactly where Aziraphale is, somehow managing to keep tabs on him in a non-creepy way, purely because he knows the angel has an uncanny knack for getting into trouble. For confirmation of his love of being Aziraphale’s knight in shining armour, see season 2, episode 5.

Right before we see the manacles miraculously fall off Aziraphale’s wrists, we can, if we’re really eagle-eyed, see another one of those micro-expressions that betray Aziraphale’s feelings. It’s off the back of Crowley’s indignant response that he has somehow been entirely responsible for the Reign of Terror currently occupying Paris. It’s minute, but it conveys so much to me – Aziraphale knows that Crowley isn’t really interested in causing anything so heinous and is basking in being reminded of that.

It’s worth noting the leagues of difference in Crowley’s reaction to being told “thank you for the rescue” and being called “nice” as we saw in episode 2. Here he simply (vehemently) tells the angel not to say “rescue”. No violence, no grabbing of lapels, no hissing in Aziraphale’s face. The words might be different, but the sentiment is most definitely the same, and yet the two reactions are light years apart. If I might be forgiven for referring to my own head canon for a moment, this actually makes sense. As a reminder, it’s my belief that Crowley and Aziraphale actually form a romantic relationship as of the day of Adam’s birth, some 200+ years in the future from Paris. This reaction we see from Crowley in the Bastille is a genuine and simple one, whereas (I believe) the wall slam at Tadfield Manor is the beginning of some sexual role play. It’s no wonder the two reactions are so different really. That said, I do not think Aziraphale isn’t playing some sort of role play game here – his insistence that he was unable to miracle himself out of the cell is rudely undermined when he performs a “frivolous miracle” just to change his clothes so that the two of them can go to lunch together. If Crowley’s preference for playing the hero was known to him, it suddenly makes sense why Aziraphale wouldn’t just miracle himself out of the cell, safe in the knowledge that Crowley would do it for him. He even defends his choice to miracle his own clothes to the demon, and it’s a pretty weak excuse.

I think it’s just a shame we don’t see Crowley’s face when he hears this, but what we do see is Aziraphale’s expression of resignation when he realises that he has to miracle his own change of clothes. It’s as if he knows the game has come to an end so now he has to stop the pretence of not being able to help himself. It’s charming really. What’s also interesting is that in switching clothes with Jean-Claude, he condemns the man to an almost instant death, yet he seems to have no qualms about the consequences of his actions in the slightest. He doesn’t even react to Crowley’s little dig that Jean-Claude was “asking for trouble” dressed in Aziraphale’s clothes.

The last exchange of this scene still delivers with subtext – it’s interesting that Crowley asks Aziraphale what’s for lunch whilst showing no preference whatsoever. He doesn’t even look affected when the angel declares joyfully that crepes are the first thing on his mind. Given that I believe Crowley to take much more pleasure in watching Aziraphale eat than eating himself, I think this question more likely means “what do I get to watch you eat for lunch?”. It’s a pleasant, light way to end this scene, which has had its fair share of dark humour squirreled away in its corners.

The first thing I noticed about this scene is that the placard announcing the date and location are different from all the other instances where this device is used. Firstly, both the location and date are on the same side of the sign. Secondly, this instance is the only one that doesn’t thrust itself upon the camera lens, instead being submerged in water. It stands out as being different, but I don’t know that there’s anything of meaning in it other than it’s used as a way to set the scene.

Speaking of setting the scene, we have another instance of David Arnold’s musical mastery with his treatment of the main theme for the soundtrack as we zoom in on Crowley and Aziraphale. The use of the harpsichord gives it a more Baroque feel, rather than being of the Romantic period that 1862 would actually fall into. To me it summons thoughts of Austen-era balls and olde-world courtships with their highly formal etiquette, all which would have taken place about 100 years prior to this scene, so I do find it interesting that it’s been chosen to orchestrate the theme in this way. Nevertheless, it’s a very pretty arrangement and definitely makes us feel that we’re still in England in a time when society had strict rules that needed to be adhered to.

Quick side note: the jacket Aziraphale is wearing in this scene appears to be the same one from the paintballing scene, which he says he has owned for over 180 years. This scene takes place approximately 155 years before the present day of this season, so even at this point he’s already owned that jacket for more than 25 years.

There’s a strange formality between the two of them in this scene, right from the start. Crowley doesn’t even look at Aziraphale as they’re talking to one another, staring stubbornly straight ahead.

Crowley opens the conversation with, what I think, is a really strange line:

What if it all goes wrong? We’ve got a lot in common, you and me…

It consists of two very different ideas that I just can’t seem to make have meaning when you put them together in one sentence. Not only that, I can’t even really make much sense out of the second part of the sentence – it just makes me want to utter the age-old phrase “and…?”. If anybody has any ideas on this one, I’m all ears.

This weirdly awkward meeting continues with Aziraphale’s belittling of Crowley from his first words, which he tries to shrug off, only to have the angel continue to make light of their companionship, claiming that the only thing their partnership is good for is to satisfy the agreement, making sure they “stay out of each other’s way”. This whole interaction just feels so out of character for the pair, particularly given that we’ve just seen them gleefully heading off to have lunch together not 30 seconds previously.

Crowley’s summation of his fall from Heaven here could be telling us a lot about his state of mind when he was still an angel – to me it sounds as if he’s saying that his mindset hasn’t actually shifted very far, and that it wasn’t a sharp sudden descent into his demonic state of being but a gradual (and willing) move. It’s a very different point of view from what we know Aziraphale holds: that there are only two states of being for ethereal beings – good or evil. It’s something we see a lot throughout the series – the comparison of the two opposing opinions on morality, along with the idea that Crowley is much happier in his “limbo” state than Aziraphale, who constantly fights against the notion that he is anything other than purely good.

Despite the fact that it’s painfully obvious that Crowley is really struggling with what he’s asking (there’s a little gulp before he mentions things going pear-shaped that says an awful lot, not to mention the attempts at deflection with his talk of ears), Aziraphale really isn’t listening to his friend in the slightest. Apart from the word “pears”. Surely Crowley should know by now that any use of food-related language is going to send the angel into fantasyland?

Aziraphale really proves that he hasn’t been listening at the point where he finally starts paying attention, though in an ironic twist he has to ask Crowley what he’s been talking about. The further ironic twist is that he starts listening at exactly the point that Crowley will only communicate his needs in writing (I’m not sure why it was necessary to write down the words “holy water” when they’re standing in broad daylight having a conversation out loud…). He’s clearly distressed at Crowley’s request though and his instant refusal to get him what he wants prompts the demon to look at him, albeit briefly, for the first time in this scene.

As little light side note here, I love how Crowley’s handwriting looks so childish on the slip of paper he hands to Aziraphale:

It feels so appropriate for his character that, even after 6000 years, he really has no interest in investing time to improve his writing skills. And what’s with the underline? Trying to convey how important he feels his request is? Whatever the reason, it just compounds the idea that this note was written with someone with the emotional IQ of an amoeba, which is far from the case.

We start to see how distressed Aziraphale is at what he thinks Crowley is asking for at this point.

He impassioned plea comes complete with a little gasping breath before he speaks that’s almost heartbreaking. What I find really interesting about the way he handles this situation is that his distress turns to anger very quickly. When he tells Crowley that he would be in trouble if their liaisons were ever discovered, I read that as him appealing to the demon to try and remind him that they are both at risk doing what they’re doing. Not only that, but there’s no way that he’s going to provide Crowley with an “easy” way out, which I suspect is his way of telling the demon that he doesn’t get to leave him behind. Pity he has to use a word that’s pretty aggravatory to try and hammer his point home – I think his choice would likely be driven by what Heaven would call their meetings, rather than how he sees them, but Crowley has already been told he can’t have what he’s asking for and is in no mood to allow Aziraphale any slip ups at this point.

That word clearly rubs Crowley up the wrong way (and rightly so I say, fancy trivialising 6000 years of companionship in as base a way as to call it “fraternising”). In his defence, Aziraphale does try to take it back, but it’s too late – they’re both too emotional charged at this point to see any sense. Crowley’s scathing response that he has plenty of other people he can “fraternise” with is perhaps not meant as a snipe to undermine their friendship further, but an angry declaration that whilst he might do that with others, it is not how he would choose to describe the interactions with the angel. If that is the subtext, Aziraphale misses it, seeing only the insinuation that Crowley is claiming he has plenty of people he can hang around with, making him less important.

Despite the seriousness of the subject matter driving the argument, we are once again leaving this location and time period with a bit of lightness.

My instinctive response to Aziraphale’s awkward storming off and disposal of Crowley’s note, along with Crowley’s snotty closing remark? A little groan followed by the disdainful muttering of “bloody children…”.

As always, comments, questions, discussions, all welcome!

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Desecration

Pairing: Gabriel x Fem. Reader

Summary : Gabriel. The archangel fucking Gabriel. He who refuses to sully the temple of his celestial body in any shape or form. And now, he has been ordered to take a day off. What started out as a forced holiday ends up in a night of many delightful firsts. 

Themes : Slow burn | Smut

Warnings : Mention of Alcohol | Kissing | Foreplay | Casual sex / One-night stand | Light dirty talk | Hand job (Gabriel receiving)

Word count : 5.6k words

Minors DNI | 18+

This is part one of three separate fics, each with a different theme and a different character. The second, featuring Thranduil, and titled Temptation, will be up tomorrow, at the same time. 

Want to be tagged? Want to know the reader request rules? Read all  here

One entire day.

The Creator gave Gabriel time off after that entire debacle following the child of the Adversary and what should have been the war to truly end all wars. Everyone was roused up and angry, and the heavenly authorities didn’t like that. A decision was made, and everyone was given time off to cool off and clear their heads.

And Gabriel?

One day, twenty-four hours, were given to him—well, forced upon him, in his mind at least—to walk amongst mortals, loosen up, and indulge in everything they enjoyed. Gabriel shivered. To desecrate the vessel of his celestial body was unseemly. Vile, even. But, the Creator insisted, and Gabriel agreed. Very, very reluctantly.

Gabriel thought, "How does one indulge oneself?"  For his subordinate, Aziraphale, it was easy. He had lived among mortals since creation, and indulging was second nature to him.  Fine food and drink, dusty old tomes, tartan—those were just some of the things he liked. Next, there was that bottom dweller, Crowley. Now he would indulge in many things, especially Aziraphale. Oh, they would like to pretend as if nothing were going on, but everyone knew. The Creator knew too, but they didn’t care. They once even privately admitted to finding Crowley rather amusing. 

But enough of that. Where did all of this leave Gabriel?

At a complete loss, he finally gave up and let his feet take him anywhere and everywhere. Gabriel wandered around London, peeking through windows, sniffing out the scents wafting from bakeries, restaurants, and everything else. He found himself listening to street musicians and had his portrait painted. A beautiful one, if he said so himself. And he did say so himself. He was, after all, the Archangel Fucking Gabriel.

The hours melted into each other, and Gabriel grew to enjoy the many distractions that mortal life had to offer. By nightfall, his stomach growled. Gabriel was being told he needed to eat.

"You’re making sure I make the most of this, aren’t you?" Gabriel grumbled as he turned his eyes towards the heavens.

I said, enjoy yourself. The Creator’s voice was as clear as a crystal bell on a summer morning. And I’m making sure you get a little bit of motivation for it, so to speak.

Gabriel knew arguing was futile. As was rolling his eyes. The Creator saw all and heard all. Even the thoughts in his head. You can curse me all you want, they cackled, but you still have to go through with this. There was a pause. Another ten hours, in fact. 

It was only nine p.m. still.

Gabriel groaned, shook his shoulders, and composed himself. He walked into the nearest café and found himself a seat. The menu was extensive, but he was not in the mood for alcohol. 

"What will it be?" You asked as he looked around, trying to figure out what he should do next.

When he looked up the first thing that popped into your head was sculpted marble, long-limbed, strong and dark. The next thing that popped into your head was, get it together, you blithering idiot! He’s just another customer, that’s all.

Gabriel stopped his dithering, deciding to ask for suggestions. "I have no idea," he mumbled, scanning the menu again. "Anything you suggest? But," He lifted his finger. "Nothing to fuzz up the mind."

You huffed. That left out all of the cocktails. And the heavy stuff. Gabriel even waived off all offers for coffee, and he was not in the mood for tea. You grinned and pick up a mug in the end. "Hot chocolate it is, then."

Gabriel watched, thoroughly fascinated with the process. His mouth watered and a sigh rose from the back of his throat when the rich scent of cocoa powder wafted into the air. "And do you drink this with those tiny white things?"

"What?" What tiny white things? You look down at the mug in your hands and see tiny white blobs floating on top. Oh, he was referring to the marshmallows. "You don’t drink them," you said, trying not to raise an eyebrow. "You eat them. They’re quite nice."

"Fascinating," Gabriel said, rubbing his hands together with surprised glee. The prospect of consuming something he once saw as gross matter appealed to him greatly. "Would this count as a meal?"

This time, an eyebrow of yours was raised. "I... what?"

"I’m not from around here," Gabriel added quickly. He was told to enjoy himself, but without giving his true identity away. "Um, this is all new to me."

"Are you from some far-flung corner of the world no one knows about or something?"

Say yes, say yes, rang The Creator’s voice. "Yes," said Gabriel. "From a very remote town in," the Creator pitched in again. "A-alaska? in fact."

"Well," you say as you shake your head and pass the mug to him. Gabriel held up the mug, took a deep breath, and sighed. Now I know why Aziraphale likes living here so much. "If you’re looking to eat, this will go well with it."

Gabriel inspected the slice of chocolate caramel brownie. He sniffed and took a bite. The flavours that washed down his throat were a delight to the very soul. "Oh lord," he mumbled, as if in prayer, and took another bite, another sip of hot chocolate. Gabriel was overcome, even enraptured. The smell, the texture—nothing could compare. 

And he was never going to look down on Aziraphale and his love of mortal indulgences again.

The brownie and hot chocolate put him in a fine mood and loosened his tongue. Gabriel grew curious about you and asked many questions. "So why do you work in a place like this?" he asked finally. 

"I like the hours, I get to sleep in most mornings," you said, as you wiped down the counter. "And the pay is good, so--"

"It’s a win-win for you?" This is what he picked up from Aziraphale.

"It is, yes."

"And the people who come here?"

"A blur of faces, actually." You walked to the other side of the counter and made yourself comfortable on a stool next to him. It was a slow night, but Gabriel aroused your curiosity. Why not make the most of it? "They tip me, give me no trouble, and I pay them no mind." You picked up a glass of water and sipped. "Save for you."

That piqued his curiosity. "Really?"

You leaned in, your eyes narrowing to thin slats. "You’re the first person I’ve met who’s never heard of marshmallows before."

Gabriel leaned in and played along. "You’re kidding." 

Your lips were so close, you were sure if one leaned in any further, they'd be kissing the other. "Mm-mm," you mumbled and pulled back, helping yourself to some olives. "I’m not kidding. Just about everyone I know knows about marshmallows."

"There's always a first," Gabriel said, holding up his mug.

You clinked your glass against it. "Yes. Yes, there is. So tell me, what is a man like you doing in a place like this?"

Gabriel kept up a lively chatter while doing his best not to give much away. "And they messed up all our plans," he said, in light of Aziraphale and Crowley meddling with the end of the world. "Now we have to start all over again."

"It was just a small business project," you say while trying not to gawk at Gabriel. The way he carried himself was very much in the image of a man in charge, very much the image of a raven-haired god that had stepped out of some Renaissance artist’s studio. You gulped and looked away. "And no one was affected by it, so it can’t be that bad."

"Oh, if you only knew," Gabriel exclaimed as he finished the brownie and requested another. The taste did wonders for him, put him at ease. He looked around, first at the other tables, then at you, how you moved, how your wool sweater and leggings clung to you in the right places. Gabriel flushed, wondering what was going on with him. "And the worst part is, they got to run wild again. No consequences at all."

"Such a terrible pair, getting away like that," you swallowed hard and averted your gaze when Gabriel flashed the type of smile that any rational person would have labeled as a weapon of mass destruction. Trying not to hum, trying to ignore yourself going weak at the knees, you continue. "But since your boss isn’t mad, I suppose it’s not that big of a deal?"

The Creator and their ineffable plan. "No," Gabriel mumbled. "No, they’re not. In fact, they insisted I take the day off to recover from the whole debacle."

"That’s a great boss you have there."

Gabriel flashed that jaw-dropping smile again. "Indeed." He caught the faint hint of red tinging your cheeks and smile even more, his heart slightly aflutter. "Indeed."

The minutes seemed to melt into each other. Gabriel let you get back to work, content to hang around and savour all the food on offer while you were occupied. His body was a temple that should never be desecrated, that was what he always believed. But here, now, eating all the delicious food, and drinking soothing hot chocolate, he was convinced that a little desecration may not be so bad after all. When the time came to close up, and for him to pay, he was pleasantly surprised to find a shiny new credit card in a shiny new wallet.

You go over the company name on the card, "Gabriel, Celestial Holdings." Interesting, you think, but it doesn’t matter so long as the sale goes through. Much to your relief, and Gabriel’s, it did. "This is the name of the company you work for? And is your name Gabriel?"

"W-what?" Gabriel looked at the card, trying not to gawk. When he reached out for advice, all he got was white noise. The Creator had gone silent. Not knowing what else to do, Gabriel just nodded. "Yes," he said vigorously. "Yes. That is the name of the company. A family holding, if you will. And yes, my name is Gabriel."

"Y/n," you introduce yourself. "So is your dad the boss?"

"You could say that, yes."

"And the two who caused that epic mess?"

"My brother," Gabriel said of Aziraphale. "And a friend of my brother," he said of Crowley. "Curse my luck."

"Nepotism?" You purse your lips and return the card.

He came up with the only answer he could think of, one he’d heard Crowley give in such a situation. "In our line of business, nepotism is the only way to go."

"I see." You locked up the register and waited until your boss came out to close the shop. Gabriel watched too, realizing the night had to come to an end. He didn’t want it to come to an end. He flushed again when you smiled at him. 

"Is there anything else to do around here?" said Gabriel, as nonchalantly as possible. He never truly acquired the art of interacting with humans the way Aziraphale and Crowley did, and he hoped it wouldn’t show. "I have another," Gabriel looked at the time and calculated how many hours he had left. "Six hours left before I hit the road."

You looked up from rummaging through your purse. "Go on," your boss said. "Have some fun before heading home."

You lean over the counter, your mouth set in a grim line. "If you’re up to no good…"

"Nothing of the sort," Gabriel said calmly, raising his hands. "I just like spending time with you, that’s all."

There was this energy coming off of him, something you couldn’t quite describe, speaking to your gut and telling you to trust him, and there were plenty of places you could take him, all public and still full of people even at such an ungodly hour. "Alright," You grab your coat and your keys. "Follow me."

                                                     💫

Gabriel was enthralled. You showed him the sights and took him on a train ride.

He sat close to you, looking around, talking to those around him. Gabriel was so full of energy and considerate. If he felt a conversation was going on for too long he’d make excuses before turning to you with a grin on his face, as if nothing made him happier than to talk to you.

It made you happy to have him talk to you, to have his attention solely on you. After a pleasant train ride, and a pleasanter walk, you took him to a twenty-four-hour movie theater. It was a completely different experience for an angel who had never seen a film before. He had seen acting during a stint in ancient Greece, but modern movies were a novelty he had not experienced till tonight.

Finally, after some back and forth, the two of you settled on a romantic comedy. Gabriel couldn’t take his eyes off the screen, especially during the romantic scenes. "Do people kiss someone like that, just because they’re acting?"

You nod over your popcorn. "Yes. Yes, they do."

"Interesting," Gabriel said as he leaned over to dust off a piece of popcorn that had fallen onto your blouse's collar. His fingers grazed against your throat. It was such a simple act, yet it made your pulse scramble, and your cheeks flush. You quickly face the screen, all too aware of Gabriel’s gaze on you.

Strange, how such a reaction could enchant him so. "We don’t have such things where I’m from."

"Really?" You shake your head in disbelief. "No films? No kissing?"

"No."

"No?" Your disbelief only grew as you gestured at the screen. "Then how do you know if the actors are even kissing?"

"I've been... taught the concepts," Gabriel said primly, his cheeks flushing with a sudden sense of embarrassment. "But I’ve not personally partaken in such acts, um…"

He was stumped. Here he was, a celestial being that was older than the universe itself, and he just admitted to never having been kissed before. Him. The Archangel fucking Gabriel. Oh, he could just see Crowley cackling over his wine now.

Gabriel wished for nothing else but a rock to crawl under.

You leaned in, and tilted your head to the side, your eyes filling with growing mirth. How you struggled to hide your smirk. And shock. This walking, breathing god of a man had never been kissed before? Unbelievable. You curl up in your chair, your chin resting on your fist. "You’ve never been kissed before?"

Gabriel seemed to shrink into his seat. "Yes," came the barely audible mumble.

Far-flung corner of Alaska indeed. "No girlfriend? Boyfriend? One of each?"

"Neither." Gabriel coughed, and straightened himself, trying to regain some sense of dignity. "Ever."

You take in those too-full lips of his and lick your own. “Would you like to?” You ask, stunned by your own boldness. “To kiss someone I mean?”

“I-” It was his turn to blush. “Yes,” Excitement washed over him, his senses coming alive at the thought of such an experience. To kiss for the first time, to feel for himself what mortals celebrated in poetry was something he no longer wanted to miss out on. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

You go over his admission, and then the time. You still had four hours left with him. Why ever not? 

"Come on," you take Gabriel’s hand and stand up. "Let’s get out of here."

He stood up and followed you out onto the aisle, his fingers impulsively lacing around yours, squeezing it gently when he felt your palm tremble against his.  "Where are we going?"

"To kiss," You whisper, just enough for only him to hear. "But only if you want to go through with it that is.”

Gabriel knew he may never get another opportunity like this, certainly not with someone like you. And he was told to enjoy himself. "Alright, where do we go?

                                                       💫

The cab ride to a nearby hotel was filled with anticipation. The both of you kept stealing glances from each other, then quickly turning away with red-tinged cheeks. At one point, you felt a hand graze your thigh, and a jolt go up your spine.

Gabriel felt it too. Anticipation, and a sudden, not-so-delicate sexual tug arrowing in neatly into his gut when his eyes skimmed over your thighs. His pulse was racing, he felt all hot and feverish and did his best to dampen it. It was just going to be a kiss, he kept telling himself. Nothing more. He looked at you and turned again quickly.

No no no. This wasn’t going to happen. He couldn’t let it. He was an Archangel, for crying out loud. He couldn’t sully his vessel this way.

But was that really true? Couldn’t he let go for just a few hours at least? He was given the freedom to do so after all. Gabriel gulped and loosened his tie. He kept looking out the window, counting the minutes until the cab ride ended and the hotel came into view.

"And here we are," you say as the cab starts to slow down, startling him a little.

Gabriel insisted on paying for the taxi. He insisted on paying for the hotel room, and a sumptuous breakfast in bed for you. "You shouldn’t have to, you know," you said while you waited for the room to be booked. "I could have taken care of it."

"I insist," said Gabriel, pocketing the credit card. "It’s the least I could do."

He took your hand as you led the way to the elevator. "Thank you."

"You’re welcome." Gabriel grinned while the two of you stood on opposite sides of each other.

You cock your head to the side and study him. "So tell me, what will you do when you go back?"

"Go back to work, get cracking on the project again." He actually felt uncomfortable now, at the thought of ending the world.

"You look unsure now."

Gabriel, once certain that ending the world and the other side was the way to go, was now filled with doubts. True, the world was filled with darkness, despair, and misery, but it was also filled with joy and hope, and as he very recently discovered, you. He gulped. "I am," he confessed. "I thought our--" what was that word Crowley used? Oh yes. "Demolition plans were the way to go. And now…"

"Now you think this site deserves another shot at redemption, so to speak?" You said simply, just before the doors opened to the top-floor suite.

"Yes," Gabriel flushed with embarrassment. How quick he was, to pull the trigger on everything. And how oddly grateful he now was, that Aziraphale thought differently. Aziraphale and Crowley, obviously, but the demon would never hear that. If he did, then Gabriel would never hear the end of it. His eyes then went wide at the views that greeted him. "Oh my word," he gasped as he admired the night skyline, the lit-up buildings, and the full moon up in the sky.

You couldn’t hold back your awe either. "My word indeed."

You joined him by the window, the both of you staring out into the night sky like a pair of awe-struck children. "I’m so glad I decided to take this day off," Gabriel mumbled happily.

"I’m glad you decided to take the day off," you said as you gazed into the night sky.

A hand brushed against yours, startling you, and reminding you why you were here. "Right." You look around for the perfect spot. The chairs looked cozy but would grow uncomfortable in a while. The carpeted floor was out. That left only one place. The bed.

Gabriel’s gaze followed yours. A kiss was always perfect in bed. That’s what he had read about, anyway. "Perfect," he said as made his way over. "Jacket and shoes?"

"Off. Same for the socks." You mumbled as you slipped out of your boots and socks. "I'd never been a fan of socks and shoes in bed."

"I’ve heard of that," Gabriel shucked off his jacket, leaving a pair of well-toned arms neatly outlined in a fitted shirt. You gulped when sculpted back muscles flexed under crisp white cotton as he undid his tie. The urge to run your hand down that powerful back grew so strong. 

"Do mortals actually like that?" Gabriel went on, oblivious to the effect he was having on you. His shoes were the next to go, as were his socks. "Socks in bed?" He winced. "Very unappealing if you ask me."

"Mhmm.” You hummed when he made himself comfortable, and the bed suddenly looked so tiny in the process. So tall. You didn’t even realize how truly tall Gabriel was still now. He caught the way you were looking and raised an eyebrow. You felt like giving yourself a good smack to the back of your head. "Very unappealing," you said as you join him, sitting on the side of the bed.

And what a comfortable bed it was, even though it was just enough for the two of you and what had been planned to happen. You found your gaze drifting over his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves. Gabriel turned his head and caught you gawking again. You squeak, not knowing where to look. A shy smile tugged at his lips. He shifted and turned to his side. "So," said Gabriel, as butterflies fluttered in his belly. "How do we go about doing this?"

You tap your cheek with a finger. You better start with the basics. "Right." You sit up and encourage him to do the same. "You face me like so," You gulped when your eyes drifted to those lips of his. Oh, to feel those lips on yours. "And close your eyes."

Gabriel closed both, and then abruptly opened one. "And then what?"

"Just close your eyes, silly." You giggled when he shook his head and shut both eyes. "Or you’ll ruin the moment."

You then leaned over and placed your hands over his cheeks, letting your fingers trace over every bump and line. You felt his jaw clench. So strong. So very strong, and so very tense. "Relax," you whisper and lean in. "It’s nothing to worry about."

Nothing to worry about? Nothing to worry about?!? His first kiss was nothing to worry about. Gabriel was about to open his eyes, to protest, and then the air was knocked right out of his lungs when your lips pressed against his.

Gabriel could barely breathe, he could barely even think. All he could focus on was the softness of your lips, the taste of buttery popcorn still lingering in your mouth. The kiss felt so light and exuberant and left him feeling more than a little dizzy. His hands left his sides to glide up your waist while his mouth opened over yours. Gabriel felt light-headed again, this time when his tongue slipped past your parted lips and dipped into the warmth of your mouth. He felt like he was floating on air. A kiss should have been a mere trifle to a being like him, but there you were, robbing him of every thought, of every breath, just with the softness of your lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly when his nose accidentally bumped into yours. Gabriel stopped for a breather, chest heaving, to gather his thoughts. He felt greedy and wanted more. He debated if he should take the initiative and kiss you. 

The sight of you all flushed, your pupils all dilated, made up his mind for him. “It’s alright,” you murmured before Gabriel dipped his head and dragged you in for another kiss.

This time it was a kiss that was rough and hungry leaving you breathless and gasping for air. Gabriel felt sure of himself now. Pure instinct was driving him along, and something else. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. It made him want more than just a few kisses. "To hell with it,” he mumbled, his mouth greedy for yours.

It felt like a dam had burst and suddenly Gabriel was all over you. His kisses were demanding, his mouth plundering, taking all you were willing to offer him. His arms circled your waist in a vice-like grip. Your entire body trembled when your name blew through that sinful mouth of his. It felt soft and luscious, and you heard him groan when you answered him in a low purr. Feeling his lips skim over your chin, down your neck to the hollow of your throat made you gasp, especially when teeth gently scraped over your skin. When you reached up and grabbed onto his collar, to pull him closer, he moaned, “c-can I t-touch you?”

Your hands guiding his was too much for him. The softness of your skin beneath his palms turned his bones to water. Gabriel let his hands glide up your waist, let his fingers curl over your trembling belly. When he dragged you in again for another kiss, his fingers hooked around the hem of your sweater. You didn’t wait for him to ask. You simply helped him lift your sweater over your head before tossing it to the side. On the next kiss, you felt his hands reach back, then struggle with the clasp of your bra. “Let me guess,” you smirk and move your own hands to your back, to help him. “You were just taught the concepts?”

Gabriel, red in the face, nodded. “Exactly.”

You chuckle and toss your bra to the side as well. That was when Gabriel took the time to really see you.

Merciful creator, he thought. All his life Gabriel thought the earthly vessel that held his being was to be left without blemish and untouched, and devoid of any mortal influence. But seeing you like that, your lips already bruised, your eyes darkened with lust, well, it made him think that experiencing earthly delights and desecrating his body may not be such terrible things after all. He cupped your cheeks, taking his time to pull you in with a kiss.

This kiss was soft, tender, almost lazy. Gabriel pulled you onto his lap, holding you flush against him, a soft hum rising at the back of his throat. You felt every shaky breath he took, and relished every tingle as his hands went up and down your spine. When those hands cupped your ass, squeezing on soft flesh, you press yourself against him even more.

Gabriel took his time to savour every precious second. His heart raced when you arched into him. His pulse scrambled when you whimpered with each breath you took. More. His body kept screaming More. On impulse, he moved his hands up, to your hair, yanking on it and pulling you back. Warmth spread in his belly as he kissed his way leisurely down your neck, and in a move that surprised you both, he had you under him in a heartbeat.

“Very good,” you giggle, a gasp ripping through you when a cool hand glided over your ribcage.

“Well, I aim to please,” he replied huskily before dipping his head to taste.

Gabriel felt like he was pulled into a tunnel of darkened desire. His lips moved over a nipple, his tongue twirling around the already tender bud. He moaned, deep and throaty, when your legs hooked around his hips, when your fingers raked over his back. He trembled with desire as he moved from one breast to the other, a hand ready to take over what his lips left unattended.

And it still wasn’t enough. Gabriel, hard as ever by now, wanted to experience your body in all its glory. He placed a tentative hand over the waistband of your leggings, his eyes never leaving yours. “Can I?” he asked in a soft breath.

You say “yes,” as you lift your hips. Your body started to throb when warm fingers grazed against your flesh, goosebumps rising over your skin as Gabriel pulled down your leggings and your underwear, leaving you exposed.

He gulped as his eyes raked over your body. “Merciful creator,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful.”

And he was still dressed. That had to be remedied, and quickly. You squealed when a shirt button popped and nearly hit you in the nose, so eager was he to get out of his clothes. His shirt was disposed of, as were the rest of his clothes. Fully naked now, Gabriel towered over you, like a perfectly sculpted statue come to life. You just wanted to reach out, and run a hand over his torso, but he put a stop to all by pushing you back into bed and crushing your lips with his.

Your skin felt so soft to his touch. If he had more time, Gabriel could have worshipped your body, as he rightly believed so. Alas, he didn’t have that time, so he did everything he could to make it count. He caressed your tummy when your arms went around his shoulders, groaning when you hooked your legs around his hips and your slick heat rubbed up against his cock. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked. “We may never see each other again after this.”

Having been pulled into a darkened tunnel of need, you assure him that yes, this is what you want. Gabriel dipped his head and kissed you again, his hand clamping down on yours and pinning it to the mattress. You had to help him, guide him, your entire body trembling at that intrusion. Gabriell’s moan was deep and ragged as his cock pushed deeper, throbbing around your velvety walls. You felt so good, so hot, it took every ounce of willpower he had not to just plunge in. Feeling your walls clench around his cock almost undid him, almost undid you. “You feel so good,” you breathed, biting your lip. “You feel so good inside me.”

That put a smile on his face. Gabriel moved, slowly, hesitantly, trying to get a feel of what kind rhythm you’d like. His thrusts were shallow, gentle, dragging out mewls every time his hips ground into your thighs. “H-harder,” you beg, “You d-don’t have to be gentle.”

Gabriel simply let go, gave into the madness that threatened to consume him. He slammed his hips against you, moaning every time you arched back or whenever your fingers raked down his skin. He dipped his head for a kiss. “I love how you taste,” he breathed. “You could intoxicate a man just by those lips alone.”

Your eyes nearly rolled back when he grew rougher with each thrust. Clinging onto him, your kisses deepening as he rode you relentlessly. Gabriel felt he was reaching the point of no return. He tightened his grip on your hand, caging you against the mattres. The sounds escaping his lips matched yours, the sheer pleasure of his hips slapping against your thighs made him plunge into you like a wild beast. Gabriel surrendered to the void, no longer caring of about if he got into trouble for this, for what he was doing to you. How could any of this be wrong when it all felt so right?

The room seemed to spin like all around you. You could feel your pussy quiver. Your muscles started to tighten, as if readying to snap. “D-don’t stop,” you beg. “Please don’t stop.”

Gabriel pressed himself into you, his lips sinking into your neck. He felt the beckoning pull, of a taut cord that was about to snap in two, and  then--

And then it felt like your body had splintered. You threw your head back and cried out his name, your entire body shaking violently as you came. You were vaguely aware of Gabriel fucking you while you orgasmed, and when his embraces grew intense, too intense, you quickly regain some control and force him to his knees with you straddling him. Gabriel sputtered in utter confusion. “Wh-what? Did I do somehting wrong?”

You smile as you pull away from him, one hand wrapping neatly around his cock, the other gripping onto his shoulder for support.. “You did nothing wrong, I just prefer this.”

Gabriel moaned, buried his face in the crook of your neck as you pumped his length. The air was peppered with words uttered in a language you didn’t understand, but Gabriel was enjoying himself, you could feel it in the way he thrust his hips everytime you pumped his cock. When he was close you felt it, his cock stiffening, his breath catching, his hand moving above yours, as if to guide you. The bite along your neck went unfelt. You felt more than heard the deep moan, a spurt of warmth pouring over your hands as his body trembled voilently

His chest heaved, and gleamed with the faint sheen of sweat. Gabriel tried to find a sense of equilibrium, then pulled you into his embrace, wanting your lips over his again, before laying you back in bed. The both of you lay there, blissed out and exhausted, content to stay as you were as time slowly ticked by. 

There was no talking this time, just blissful silence. You hummed as your fingers traced their way over flawless skin, as if trying commit each bump and line to memory. Gabriel may never come back, you thought, but the memories of tonight would remain sweet and evergreen to you. When he stirred, you curled into him even more, sighing contentedly when his nose brushed against your hair.

Gabriel glanced at the time. Barely an hour left. He stayed with you, not wanting to leave until your eyes closed. You barely heard a whispered goodbye, barely felt the kisses that brushed over your cheek.

When you finally woke up, your entire body aching, there was a beautifully penned note, with a gold feather on top of it. The letter was sincere and heartfelt, and thanked you for everything. You grinned and stretched yourself, loosening the sore cricks in your body, before heading to the bathroom to freshen up for breakfast.

[edosianorchids901]

Shatter

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "you never cared"

Cw: anger, sensory overload, alcohol

Rome, 41 AD

Crowley had, somewhat naively, hoped that things were looking up. He’d always enjoyed spending time with Aziraphale, after all. An evening of oysters and alcohol sounded like just the thing to fix whatever was wrong with him.

Only, it hadn’t fixed it. Sure, for about five minutes he was closer to happy as they talked and drank together. But then the storm clouds rolled back in, and the bristling tension inside him had only gotten worse.

He tried taking deep breaths. He tried getting even more drunk. He tried telling himself that he was being ridiculous, and should just relax and enjoy having someone who would put up with him when he was this irritable.

It didn’t work. Instead of getting less irritable, he was getting more. A lot more. More to the point where he wasn’t sure he could keep it in anymore.

And Aziraphale. Kept. Talking.

Normally, that was fine. He liked listening to Aziraphale talking. Enthusiasm was great, and no one did enthusiasm like Aziraphale. Normally, it made him feel less alone.

Today, Crowley wanted Aziraphale, the other diners, and the whole of Earth to shut the fuck up and let him have two seconds of fucking peace.

A steady march of profanity had started up in his head a while ago. He couldn’t manage to switch it off. It didn’t help with the overload, except that it did in some way. Like it was releasing a little bit of the pressure.

But not enough. The pressure was still building, an explosion of panicked rage burning in his chest. Every single noise stoked the flames higher, pushed him further towards a supernova.

The clamor of the other diners rose, laughter from another group.

Crowley twitched. It was fine, nothing to get upset about…

“Oh, and then,” Aziraphale started, “the man said—”

“I don’t care,” Crowley snapped.

He hadn’t meant to say it. But his whole body shook with the overload. Everything needed to stop.

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “You don’t care?”

“No.” Dizzy, Crowley shoved to his feet. The whole restaurant pressed in, crushing him. “Just… stop. I can’t handle you talking more.”

The furrows in Aziraphale’s brow deepened. “You never cared. About me taking before, I mean. You always seemed to like—”

“Just…” Quaking, Crowley held up a hand. “Just shut up! Give me two fucking seconds of quiet!”

Then, before he could blow up, he fled. The quaking was only getting worse, agitation eating him alive. He couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t stop the mounting explosion.

No amount of steady breaths or calm self-talk helped. He just kept heating up, reaching the boiling point.

It was overflowing now, no matter how hard he tried to choke it back under control. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think.

Gritting his teeth, he paused in the middle of an alley, clenched his fists, closed his eyes. It didn’t help. Nothing helped, and he’d probably pissed off the only person who ever cared about him even slightly.

The overload got worse and worse, a building helpless fury that tumbled out in smoke. He let out a howl, wordless distress.

Lightning exploded around him. Crashing into the buildings, the ground, shooting up into the sky.

It died down with a rumble, smoke still billowing from him, and he snarled as he shook himself off. The anger hadn’t died down, not even with the release.

It never died down.

“Oh my,” a voice said from behind him. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

Crowley whipped around, shaking. He would be shaking for hours at this rate. “What the deuce are you doing here? Why are you following me?”

“Well, you’re quite clearly…” Biting his lip, Aziraphale hesitated. “Struggling, shall we say?”

That was an understatement. But the gentle concern in his voice brought tears to Crowley’s eyes.

The dark glasses weren’t enough to hide the tears. He twisted around, stomped off.

Aziraphale fell in step beside him.

They walked down narrow alleys, through the forum, back into alleys. Crowley was still smoldering, still didn’t trust himself to speak. If he spoke, he might blow up again, and it was bad enough that he’d done it once.

Gradually, though, his strength failed. The tears rose again, and he couldn’t choke them back. He couldn’t push himself, not anymore. He’d run out of energy.

Exhausted, he crumpled to the ground and pulled himself to lean against a building. Aziraphale, who had been walking silently beside him the whole time, vanished.

Crowley couldn’t blame him. After all, who would want to be around someone who got angry enough to blow up?

“Here, I brought you some more wine. I-I thought it might help.”

Startled, Crowley looked up. Aziraphale hovered nearby, a jug in hand. “Why’d you come back?”

Aziraphale’s eyebrow lifted. “Because… I thought it might help? You seem to be having a particularly awful day.”

Crowley opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. He pushed his sunglasses up, wiped his eyes, took a deep breath.

“Awful week,” he finally managed, almost burst into tears. “It’s been an awful week. Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

He exhaled in a gust, worn out. Didn’t have the energy to put it in words.

Aziraphale sat beside him, holding out the jug. “It’s okay. And you don’t have to explain to me, if it’s too hard. We can just share a drink, silently.”

Choked up, Crowley took the jug. Maybe later, he could try to articulate what the helpless anger at existence was like, especially when it surged out of control. But for now, drinking silently with Aziraphale sounded damn good.

[hikarry]

I'm studying the Charlemagne Empire in college atm and, boy, am I brewing some Ineffable Husbands scenarios

Imagine Aziraphale as a bishop and Crowley as a Count or even a Countess

"Crowley? Apologies for the intrusion but your maid let me in and told me you were here." Aziraphale opens the door to the dinner hall. He is met with Crowley, indeed, but also her husband and a handful of maids, serving lunch. "Oh, apologies."

"Bishop Aziraphale!" Count Attaway gets up from his chair quickly and bows slightly, walking towards the angel. "How may we assist you? I mean," He shakes his hands quite nervously. "It's a pleasure to have you here, of course."

Aziraphale smiles and waves his hand in a silent request for the man to calm down.

"Everything is alright, Count Attaway. I actually came because-"

"I needed to confess." Crowley smiles gently, completely ignoring her husband that now stared at her, to instead pin down Aziraphale. She got up, pushing past the Count and walking up to Aziraphale, bowing quickly. Aziraphale opened his mouth to talk, but Crowley looked down at him. "Shall we?"

"-Of course."

They both leave the Count and the dinner hall behind. Crowley was walking quickly on her high heels, careful not to step on her dress. It was a ordeal for Aziraphale to be able to keep up with her, to be honest. Maybe he should cut on the pork? Or maybe he should have worn something lighter?

Following her through the known corridors, they finally got to the Countess chambers. Crowley opens the door and hurries inside.

"Move, move, move, move!" She holds him by the forearm and pulls him inside, closing the door behind him and leaning her back against it.

"You're certainly in a hurry."

"Observant." She distracts herself by pulling hairpins from her hair, long curly ginger locks falling from the complicated updo they were in before. "Is this the moment I kneel in front of you, oh my mighty bishop?" Aziraphale gasped. Crowley snorted, pushing her finally loose hair to her back. "What? Wouldn't be the first kneeling in front of you, would I?"

"No. Not at all." Aziraphale tries to look everywhere but at her. "But you make it sound-"

"Dirty?" She starts walking towards him, and Aziraphale starts walking backwards. "Sinful?" They keep going, more into the bedroom. "Tempting?" Aziraphale's hips bump against a desk and Crowley traps him with her arms in each side of his body against said desk. She lifted an eyebrow, waiting for an answer, that trutfully never came. Not that she had given him enough time to process. Before he noticed, she was already a few steps away, taking off her shoes. "I'm dying to change into male again. These shoes are way too uncomfortable and the dresses are way too warm for this weather. Why must men always get the better wardrobe? Sure, women's are prettier, but it's not worth it at all. Have you tried to ride a horse while we-"

"My dear." Crowley stops rambling and looks up at the angel. "You had something to tell me?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, visibly biting the inside of her cheek,

"Yeah, so. I've been pretending to be sick for like three months now and I'll soon kick the hellish bucket."

"You what?"

"I'm gonna die. Pass away. One foot in the grave. Yes? Keep up, angel."

"I am listening, I just don't know why do you need to do this so suddenly."

"My assignment is over and I got a new one. I need to get close to Charlemagne. Nudge him to the dark side. Help him build the empire."

"Oh...So, you're going back to the capital?"

"Yup. I plan to be dead by tomorrow and as soon as that's over and done with I'm out of this place."

Aziraphale changed his weight from a foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable.

"Hum. Right. Why did you feel the need to inform me?"

"Because!" She takes a few steps to close the distance between them. "We could work together, angel. You know, lend a hand when needed? I might need you for this assignment and-"

"I am not helping you gaining a soul to Hell, Crowley!" He pushed her gently away, opening a passage so he could put distance between them once again. "Out of the question!"

"Aziraphale. Angel. You're not listening-"

"There's nothing to listen to! I'm not helping you. Ever! Its outrageous you even consider I would ever say yes to some...some nonesense like that! Ah! An angel? Helping a demon?" He ran his hands down his face. "It just doesn't happen. Can happen. Will never happen." He fixed his colar, speaking fast. "Yes. It was nice seeing you, but I'm going back to the monastery. I actually have serious work to do."

"Angel-"

"Good day, my lady."

The angel leaves the chambers, closing the door strongly behind him. Crowley takes a few deep breathes, trying to control the poison that was starting to run through her veins. She ran her hands down her long hair and closed her eyes for a moment. If Aziraphale didn't want to help, he wouldn't help. Maybe it was better this way. Perhaps a few more centuries away from each other would make her start disliking Aziraphale, like a good little demon should. The good little demon she would certainly never be.

[cottagecore-raccoon]

Okay I had so much fun making that playlist last night, that I thought I'd share my good omens playlist and annotations for it (because I have thoughts and need to pawn them off on somebody)! Songs under the cut, because it's gonna be long:

(Pt. 1 Because apparently there's a character limit? Who knew)

Good Omens Opening Title - no work was done here

You're My Best Friend - no work was done here either

Everyday - for Gabriel and Beelzebub (no work was done here either)

Take Me to Church - a fandom classic before it was featured on Crowley's official playlist. A song about someone finding happiness in the love of another person, despite knowing that their relationship is considered a horrible sin by people close to them. I picture this being a song Crowley cries to while drunk (and definitely never in front of Aziraphale)

Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy - a fandom classic before it was featured as a bit of fan service in season two. C'mon, it's Queen, it's about a gentleman (Crowley) taking his (male) lover on old fashioned dates to the Ritz. He drives (the Bentley) and pays before they both go back to his lover (Aziraphale)'s place (the bookshop)

Killer Queen - another fandom classic, usually in conversation with Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy (cause they're both Queen). About someone (Aziraphale) who is "well versed in etiquette" and "extraordinarily nice." Gee, what queen do we all know and love who is kind but particular...

Fallen Angel - a song sung by someone who loves a fallen angel and wishes they could protect them from all their pain and trauma, especially because they know said fallen angel tries to hide their pain to protect them

From Eden - another fandom classic, frequently used in the joke that Crowley gets drunk and complains about his life to artists who then write songs about him. I mean, it's about the serpent of Eden and their devotion to someone with banger lines like "innocence died screaming, ask me I should know"

One Headlight - something about how when everything is going wrong, and your world is crumbling around you, but you force yourself to "drive it home with one headlight." Reminds me of Crowley before Armageddon...

A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square - absolutely no work was done here whatsoever

Like Real People Do - something about how, just for a small time, you and a lover can ignore what you are and pretend to be two humans in love (with no other complications or responsibilities)

Work Song - the singer talks about feeling like they've done horrible things, but were able to find respite in a lover who doesn't ask or judge them for what they've done. "In the lowlamplight I was free, Heaven and hell were words to me"

What A Wonderful World - part of Aziraphale's official playlist. Something about how a central theme of Good Omens is the beauty of the world and humanity (even with all its flaws), and that this song has become one of the definitive celebrations of the world

Non, je ne regrette rien - part of Aziraphale's official playlist

Earth Angel (Will You Be Mine) - part of Aziraphale's official playlist. I like to think of either Crowley introducing Aziraphale to this song (as a thinly veiled display of love) or Aziraphale stumbling across it and pretending it was Crowley singing to him

Fly Me To The Moon - part of Aziraphale's official playlist

Feelings - part of Aziraphale's official playlist

Angeleyes - part of Aziraphale's official playlist. I feel like Crowley played this for Aziraphale as a joke, but Aziraphale actually really liked it

Feeling Good - part of Aziraphale's official playlist

I Will Follow You into the Dark - part of Aziraphale's official playlist. The lyrics to this song in the context of Aziraphale listening to it make me insane. A song about being raised in a religious setting that told you love was pain? But choosing to love someone anyway with an almost religious devotion? What if I died.

Spread A Little Happiness - part of Aziraphale's official playlist

Pale Blue Eyes - a fandom classic, both because Crowley canonically listens to the Velvet Underground and Aziraphale has pale blue eyes, but also because Neil Gaiman mentioned it being Crowley's favourite Velvet Underground song (via an ask on tumblr)

I'm In Love With My Car - part of Crowley's official playlist

Every Breath You Take - part of Crowley's official playlist

Purple Haze - part of Crowley's official playlist

It's The End Of The World As We Know It - part of Crowley's official playlist

I'll Be Your Mirror - part of Crowley's official playlist. The singer is basically saying I see that you don't see yourself for the beauty you are, and while I don't know why that is, I can reflect all the wonderful parts of you back to you to hopefully help you see them. And as someone with more than a few confidence issues, it makes me feral

Dreams - part of Crowley's official playlist

Starman - part of Crowley's official playlist

Part two coming in a few minutes in the reblog (with some more creative selections)!

[kill-the-hand-of-shakespeare]

“Unknown”

2

________________________

The busy soho street was loud. Compared to the silence of the last three months. But it was so welcomed. Better than any record you would spin on a gramophone. Better than any nightingale.

The bookshop stood on the corner- had it always been that faded red? She needed a new paint job, maybe. It hadn’t been painted since the 40’s- after the war... He’d painted it a gorgeous red, and added all the gold accents...

He stopped at the doors and stared for a second. The sign read ‘Closed’, but it was a warm Tuesday afternoon in September. He brought his hand up to scratch at his beard, listening to the sound it made under his short nails. Closed on a Tuesday... Muriel must not have gotten the hang of hours yet.

He opened the locked door with a miracle, letting the bell ring over head- quieting it. He didn’t want to bother Muriel, if they were in. He heard the door close behind him and took a moment to take a breath. The smell of home filled his lungs and for the first time in months, his posture relaxed and so did his brow. He let his eyes close for a minute, listening to the familiar muffled sounds of the street outside, revealing in it until he heard muttering from the far corner.

His eyes snapped open, and his brow, just relaxed, furrowed again. He knew that low growl. He took a few steps closer- just to be sure his mind wasn’t fooling him, and when he realized it was true, he stopped short in the middle of the shop, swallowing hard.

Crowley. In the bookshop. That wasn’t something he had expected.

He hesitated for a moment, thinking about turning on his heel and going to visit Nina or Maggie until the demon left. He glanced out the window and saw the Bentley parked outside Nina’s cafe. How had he missed /that/ in the street?

He thought for a moment, bringing his hands together to play with the cuffs of his jacket. It /was/ his bookshop... He had every right to be here, leave of absence from earth or not...

On slow, light feet he followed the sound of frustrated sighs and mumbles to the back corner of the shop where he kept the romance novels.

When the sounds got too close, he peered around the corner, and there, knelt on one knee, was Crowley, surrounded in books.

“How had he done this again..?” Crowley muttered, looking as disdained as always. He couldn’t help the adoring smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He’d missed that coined frown.

Hidden by the corner of the shelf, Crowley turned away from him, blue eyes took in as much as he could.

Crowley had let his hair grow out a little more. It was wavy, half of it pulled up into a bun, and half of it brushing against his shoulders. He pulled off his glasses to rub his eyes before hanging them on the collar of his shirt. He watched Crowley flip through a few pages and hum, before he turned away and hesitated, picking a pile to set it on top of.

He watched as the demon sighed heavily, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, neck exposed. Adams’s apple (how cruel for it to be called that) moving with a tired swallow. His profile was a prominent as always, especially his eyelashes - always hidden behind black tinted shades- settling a few millimetres from the high of his cheekbone. He had dark circles under his eyes, purple and grey in colour. An empty wine bottle and glass sat amongst the piles of books. One of Aziraphale’s Paris Merlot’s; 1962, if he remembered right.

He couldn’t help the dreamy sigh that left his nose. Always so tragically beautiful and troubled.

“Damn, Muriel... I’ll never get this done. Shouldn’t have touched the books...” Crowley whispered, shaking his head, and reaching to grab the next one off the shelf, eyes squinted as they read the title and then groaned quietly when it was no help, flipping it open.

He stepped out from the corner, Crowley unmoving. “Muriel, I told you to go play in traffic on Carnaby street. There’s no way you got the paperwork done that quickly.” He sneered, slowly looking up. When yellow met blue, his frustrated expression quickly paled and softened, eyes going wide and mouth agape.

“That’s Lady Chatterley's Lover... it goes in this section.”

“Aziraphale?”

_________

< Previous Next >

[trashboatprince]

Here's something silly for that mad scientists au I have with Dr. Crowley and Dr. McFell.

Ready to meet Jim? :)

Warning: unethical science, human-plant hybrid monster that shouldn't exist but does

On with the fic!

--

"I think that vendor scammed us!" Crowley growled as he looked into the basket. "I think we paid for apples she didn't give us."

"Well, at least we grabbed all the fresh ones, yes?" Muriel asked, looking at the basket as well as they walked back to the Crowley Manor.

"Yeah, well... still, I think we were scammed. Hope the tarts angel makes today are worth it. Things ain't cheap right now!"

"Nope! They're not!" Muriel nodded, huffing. "Just last week, when I went to get that order you placed at the butchers, I think he was trying to overcharge for the cut, and it isn't even of the best kind of meat! We were making stew, but a meal for royalty!"

Crowley smirked, listening to them rant, ah, he was such an influence on them. Just like a parental figure!

They approached the doors to their home, only to see McFell outside, fretting, pacing. He paused when he noticed them and put on a very forced, nervous smile. "O-oh! You're... you're back so soon!"

"It wasn't really a long trip to get veg, angel." Crowley commented, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"W-whatever do you mean? Nothing's wrong! What would make you say or think that?"

Muriel and Crowley looked at one another, then back at him. "Aziraphale, I'm your husband, and Muriel has been living with us for six years. We are very aware when you're upset or worked up about somethin', you're not as subtle as you think."

Aziraphale made a whimpering sound and wrung his hands, then moved to open the doors. "We can't talk about it out here, come inside."

Crowley shrugged and followed in with his purchases, Muriel trailing behind.

"Alright," Crowley started, setting his goods on a nearby table, careful of the many books on it, "who or what has you all twisted up in knots like this?"

"Well, uhh... this individual is... hmm..."

Crowley removed his dark glasses, frowning. "Is it someone we know?"

Aziraphale coughed and cleared his throat, trying to smile. "Uhh... Jim?" He called out.

This gave Crowley a moment of pause, staring at his husband. "Jim? Do we know a Jim?"

"Hello!"

Crowley whipped right around and saw an imposing figure entering their foyer. The figure was tall, slightly muscular, covered in bits of plant matter and dirt, green-tinted, and was very, very clearly naked.

It also looked just like the man that had been lying cold and unmoving on his work table in the lab just this morning.

"AHH! IT'S ALIVE!" Crowley screeched and stumbled backwards.

"I'll take care of it, Mr. Crowley!" Muriel shouted in a panic, running to the closet to grab their shovel.

"No, no! Don't do that!" Aziraphale exclaimed and rushed towards the plant man. "Don't hurt him!"

"Angel!" Crowley coughed, hand on his chest, trying to get his heart to stop beating like crazy. "How is he alive!? I thought the project failed!"

Aziraphale whizzed, looking at the monster, who was all smiles, like he clearly didn't seem to know what the problem was and was just enjoying the company. Which was probably the case. "I thought so too! But I came out of the library and there he was, right in our front doorway, ready to step out into the world as bare as a babe!"

Crowley looked around Aziraphale at the plant man. "You didn't think to cover him up?"

"I... I had a blanket on his lap, I thought he'd take it with him when he came in here."

"Clearly not."

"Hello! I'm Jim!" The plant man said, grinning.

Crowley made a face as Muriel approached, a shovel in their hands. The redheaded doctor put a hand on it, lowering it slightly, just in case. "Why did you name him Jim?" Muriel asked. "Was that the body's original name?"

"Nah, we used a variety of parts. Though there might be a James in there." Crowley replied.

"Oh!" Jim, as he was named, said. "That's the long version, right? Jim, short for James, long for Gabriel."

"Gabriel...?" Muriel raised an eyebrow.

"He looks like a man I know by that name." Aziraphale sighed. "No, I just... I panicked and just named him because he asked and it was the name that came to mind."

He coughed again, then tried to smile. "Uhh... well, at least we can say that your absolute nonsense of a scientific theory turned out to be true, eh, dear boy?"

Crowley stared at his husband, then at Jim. "You do realize this was a one in a million chance."

"Of course."

"And because of that, we now have an affront to God and Satan and all of science in our foyer, yes?"

"I am well aware."

"Who happens to be completely naked, and holding what looks like a mug of hot cocoa."

"He rather likes cocoa."

"Hm. We should probably get some pants on him and then have a long discussion about this over drinks. Strong drinks."

"That sounds like a plan."

"Muriel, put the shovel away and go get us all some of the really good stuff, it's gonna be a long talk."

--

The talk ends with them adopting Jim.

Not sure if Crowley marches off and gets hit with lightning, because this is a silly au and things like that could happen, but I'll leave that up to you, dear readers.

[ineffable-rohese]

Oh hey, I've gotten a few followers/mutuals, so I guess it's time for a pinned intro post?

Demographic info (because it gives context to my words): Early 40s white fat cis queer poly pagan woman living in the wet corner of North America. My nearest and dearest are almost all trans/non-binary.

Personal (public facing): I'm an Aziraphale-coded hobbit. Like, so cozy and wholesome you might want to puke. I rewatch just the first disc of the LOTR extended edition because I love the Shire so much. I drink Earl Grey with milk and one sugar. (Or a good scotch, cause every Aziraphale needs a little bit of Crowley inside them, right Sheenie?) I read mainly historical fiction, especially anything set in (actual, not fantasy) medieval Europe and I was at one point a medieval music history nerd. I wear cozy sweaters. I love rain on ferns and April flowers. I make soup with things I've tended and harvested. I work a Wholesome AF job. I unironically hug trees. I'm in love with the world.

Personal (in private): I'm deeply kinky. I'm primarily a Sensual Sadist with a significant Dominant streak. I often play as a Panther. I love consensual violence, and get great joy from hurting people who want me to hurt them. I've only really given myself permission to be that in the last year or so.

Fandoms: I fell in love with Good Omens in 2000 when a college roommate gave it to me. It was genuinely the funniest, greatest thing I had ever read, and I evangelized about it to anyone who would listen. S1 of the show immediately became a comfort show, and it got me through a time of massive loss and upheaval. I put it on when everything was too hard and I needed something that made me feel like everything was going to be OK. S2 - well we're all here still, aren't we? It dropped when I desperately needed One Good Thing for my brain to latch on to as I got through some intense pressure, and boy howdy did it lodge itself in me.

Other fandoms in roughly chronological order: Star Wars (original trilogy made me a child nerd), X-Files (first real social fandom, and intro to fanfic!), Buffy/Angel/Firefly, LOTR, Doctor Who, Torchwood (the only other show I've been driven to write fic for), Sherlock to an extent. OFMD and WWDITS are great fun, though not obsessions.

My Writing: Writing Index Here I'm really enjoying writing right now! I don't know how long this ADHD hyperfocus will last, but I'll take it while it lasts. My goal in writing is to challenge myself, create things I'd want to read, and have fun with it (for a definition of fun).

I'm also definitely working on being comfortable expressing the things I like and want and being unashamed about that. I worry too much about how my 😈 side might reflect on my 😇 side, and honestly, these shades of grey lovelies are helping me with that a lot. It's probably why I love writing Dom Aziraphale so much, because he is just so sweet and good and bright, and also a toppy BAMF who can make demons (and their Bentleys) do whatever he wants and wields a flaming sword against Satan himself.

So yeah, every time I make Aziraphale go to a dark place, and then come back again to being a ball of delight, it's helping me create a map that allows me to do the same (to a, you know, more reasonable extent). And when others read and like the things that come from the darkest corners of my brain, it makes me feel seen.

Anyway, you made it this far. Here are my cats for tax. Yes, I have one of each of the Kinds of Cats.

[frowley]

I keep thinking about this one scenario:

Imagine something happens between the ending of season 2 and this scenario, everything gets sorted out and the story is about to end.

Crowley is sitting in that chair in the bookshop, it's late at night, it's really dark outside and there's not really a lot of cars or people passing by, just the empty street and the lights of the near shops. He's drinking wine, just waiting, not really sure of what, but he's waiting. He feels anxious and can't help but to feel a little bit excited too. He gets up and starts looking at aziraphale's music discs, he picks one and gently places it into the gramophone, the song starts playing, that glenn miller song moonlight serenade.

In the front of the bookshop, the door opens, the little bell rings announcing it. Aziraphale makes his way into the bookshop listening to the song that's almost just starting. The angel looks at the walls, the books, the full shelves, the floor, every single detail. His eyes travels from surface to surface, he's enjoying it. The smell of the old books, vanilla, tea, everything is just as he remembered. It wasn't too long since the last time he was there, not too long for them eternal beings that can deal with the thought of eternity, but aziraphale didn't worked like that though, and he missed his bookshop, he missed his safe place, he missed earth. He let his hand slide through the surface of some books near the entrance, while watching the candle lighting, ready to walk some steps, entering more in the bookshop, while following the shelves shapes with his hand.

And that's when they saw each other, Aziraphale standing there, still touching one shelve, while Crowley layed in the chair, legs crossed, playing with an almost empty glass of wine in hands. The demon was well hidden under the shades, but even then couldn't bring himself to really look at the angel, so he kept playing with the edge of the delicate glass. Aziraphale brought his two hands to the front of his stomach, crossing them and taking the opportunity to adjust his clothes, as usual.

"You and your music" said Crowley, getting the bottle of wine from the table next to him, filling his glass up.

"It's just as I left it, every single thing." Aziraphale started looking everywhere once again, still amazed at everything surrounding him. "Every single book..." He looked now next to the demon, blinking calmly. "Even my notes..." The demon looked just where the angel was pointing at, letting a sigh out.

"Well, I tried my best" said softly, not wanting to be heard, taking the glass to his mouth, swallowing the wine.

The song stopped playing, starting again in loop, like if it was the only song in the disc. In fact it was one of aziraphale's favorite songs, so maybe he had something to do with that. The angel started walking around the bookshop, more relaxed, hands now in his back, inspecting the other part of the bookshop, Crowley still in the chair. The steps were loud but delicate, they were in sync with the song, almost like if the angel were dancing with himself.

"So..." The angel stood in his place, looking for those yellow eyes, wanting to see them. "Saved the world again?" He said with a small smile, waiting for his companion response.

"I suppose" Crowley answered after some seconds. Watching again at the empty glass, feeling the alcohol in his veins. "Don't even know if the first time counts really". He didn't know what to say, his mind was overflowing with thoughts, so many things he wanted to say, too many feelings in his chest, and not enough alcohol. "Wine?" The demon offered, stretching his arm while the glass filled itself. Aziraphale shook his head gently, taking the glass off Crowley's hand, placing it in the table.

"I think an apology is... in order." After the angel's words Crowley finally looked straight at him, under the shades, half surprised and half confused.

"There's no need to." He said with a gentle tone in his voice, he really meant it. "Really" He tried to reach for the glass of wine. "I forgot about everything, we are now left to live in peace..." He stood up, grabbing the glass in his hand, followed by aziraphale's intense gaze. "So you'll do the same, right?" His voice sounded a little bit tense, maybe a little bit nervous too.

"I can't." Aziraphale in other hand sounded determined, his mix of blue and brown eyes had a sad look in it, and they kept on looking for Crowley's ones. The angel was tired of pretending everything was alright, he knew they worked together to saved the world, he felt Crowley's honesty and knew he really meant it when he said everything was alright. But he needed more, the angel wasn't going to settle for that again, not now when he finally realized how bad was he starving.

The song started once again, and Crowley looked at the gramophone, placing the glass back in the table after swallowing all of its content. He looked at aziraphale's worried expression and offered his hand.

"¿Dance?" The demon asked, trying to satisfy that thought in the back of his mind, the one that was burning him, the one that screamed at him to hug aziraphale, to protect him, the way he always did. "Not that I love this song." He shrugged his shoulders, waiting impatiently. "But you do, angel." Both felt a chill running down their spines, it had been a long while since the last time the demon called him that.

-------

I got sleepy and I suck at writing scenarios, plus I don't speak English, but yeah that's the scenario basically, that damned song is messing with my poor brain.

Maybe I'll write a part 2, I have in my brain a long conversation I would like those two to have.

[thesherrinfordfacility]

On the topic of dark grey Crowley though, I agree, and I think actually being seen as some sort of gallant hero type who makes mistakes but ultimately is good is the sort of reading of his character that would frustrate him. Crowley genuinely likes to fuck with people sometimes. When Muriel shows up Crowley can barely resist having a little fun at Muriel's expense and mocking them for being naive, and he's so excited to do it. Like I think that is the happiest we see Crowley all season. He does the paint-gun trick just for fun and can barely contain his laughter when Aziraphale freaks out, and bragging to Hell about his evil deeds constantly is a facet of his personality and something Aziraphale even scolds him for. That isn't all just for show, Crowley has a conscience, but he can still be a stinker. That said, in the same way Aziraphale has a hard time going a week without doing a good deed, you can tell Post-Retirement Crowley is also trying to refrain from some of his meaner habits in S2 with his "count to ten" stuff, and especially in his interactions with Jim. Like he's working on being better, but having a hard time not letting his temper get the best of him, or not being a little bit evil sometimes. That's how I read that quick look in the Bentley after his fight with Aziraphale when he takes off his glasses and looks exhausted. It to me reads a bit like; "I didn't handle that well." You can also see his growth at the end of the season. Like he actually listens to Nina and Maggie and takes them seriously when they tell him he needs to be more communicative, and he makes an effort to follow their advice. S1 Crowley would not have done that.

hi @oatmealaddiction, sorry for taking so long to reply to you!!!✨

this is... brilliant - you're absolutely right and i completely agree with you; he definitely seems to try getting a handle of himself in s2. there's a lot that he does in 2023 that shows that he's trying to be more gentle, conscious of his words/behaviour, and all-round a softer person. you've highlighted "count to ten" (and i'll add his immediate recognition of 'my bad' when he restores power to the coffeeshop), and how he interacts with jim, but also the way that he gently questions aziraphale about his 'naked man friend', how he interacts with muriel in the backroom and in heaven, and putting the shop back together before aziraphale comes back (firmly believe that this is the stress-cleaning as alluded to in the book, but it's still a measure of kindness and respect to aziraphale and the shop).

he still occasionally falters in all this though, which is a nice touch to show that it's all a work-in-progress (he still mocks muriel slightly in ep3 as you say, still violently loses his temper, still shown to treat aziraphale's things with a degree of disrespect, and still handles aziraphale quite abruptly on occasion), but the common denominator throughout all of that, relapsing so to speak, is him being under a good measure of stress and threat - so once again, completely understandable that he does so!!! i also like your remark on the conversation with maggie and nina; even if he doesn't necessarily listen to/act on the key points of that conversation that he possibly ought to have done, the fact that he does at all - even considers what they have to say as being worthy of his attention, as wise and insightful - is another mark of how he begins to evolve in s2, compared to s1 where he seems to be stuck in a state of inertia. crowley seems to spend a good deal of s2 anchorless (and not just in the literal 'hes living out in his car' way), and therefore seems to be grasping for routine, purpose, and/or connection wherever he can find it...?

i do wonder if its wholly to do with being out from under hell's thumb, though. as you say, and ive suggested in previous asks, crowley does seem to get some joy out of being a demon and doing demonic things, and acts in those instances with - as it seems to me, anyway - very little conscience... but these all largely occur before he breaks away from hell, even if some bad habits (?) remain in s2. im also of the (i think) widely-shared belief that crowley begins to fear hell from 1827 onward, and that his disappearance for however-long-a-time/his obvious fear and paranoia in 1862 is directly linked to how he reacts to aziraphale calling him nice/good/thanking him.

so with that in mind, his emerging willingness, as it seems in s2, to be 'nicer' and 'gentler' correlates directly to the threat of hell being removed; that would be a fairly logical conclusion. but we know that he's not out from under hell's thumb... i would like to think that crowley isn't naive enough to believe that shax is simply a harmless, innocuous protégée... but if we consider how he seems to underestimate other fellow demons in the show, it's entirely possible.

but then again, the time that beelzebub drags him from the bentley does seem to be the first time they've interacted since armageddon... so did crowley truly think that he was safe from hell? that they wouldn't dare to fuck with him again, after the bathtub ruse? did he see it as freedom to start being nicer, without fear of repercussions that - we can assume - he suffered beforehand? is he doing it for himself, because he wants to be nicer, or is he doing it to build further on the 'us' he and aziraphale were tentatively creating in the four years we didn't see?

sorry that the above is a ramble - this is basically a transcript of my brain talking itself in circles, but i think it's nonetheless interesting to think about; how much of crowley developing into this character, that seems to purposefully try being a kinder/nicer/more patient and conscientious person, is because he personally wants to, had wanted to all along, and is now free to do so, and how much is it because he thinks it's a compromise on meeting aziraphale's assessment of being 'at heart, just a little bit, a good person', so that he's more... idk, likeable - agreeable? - to aziraphale directly? wants to live up to what aziraphale thinks of him? how much of this is all the same thing?✨

[ddagent]

41

Goss Magazine (published 11th March) WHERE ARE THEY NOW: 'EDEN' HEART THROBS They were everywhere in the 80s - the six piece boy band who stirred the loins of the nation with their long hair, earrings, and thrusting dance moves. After two number-one albums and three sell-out tours, Eden went their separate ways in '89 when lead singer Luke left, closely followed by the slinkiest hips in the music business, AJ. The band tried to re-form as a foursome - to no avail. So, where are they now?

Crowley knew he shouldn't be looking. But the baby-faced photograph of his younger self had called out to him from the racks, and he now found himself in the magazine aisle in Sainsburys staring at a myriad of photographs of his former bandmates. Luke, Sandy, Eric, Gabriel. Az. They'd all been cut and pasted together to appeal to a different demographic: some of them could sing, some of them could dance. Some of them were just there to take off their shirt and wink at their fans. Four years of his life, and he was labelled forever as a washed up has-been.

AJ "SNAKE HIPS" CROWLEY AJ was the sex symbol of the band, slinking and gyrating his way across the stage as the six-part harmonies drew in the crowd. AJ left with Luke—

Lies. Crowley had left just after Luke. He'd been an absolute prick, high on cocaine most of their shows. Crowley had no desire to follow him down that dark path. He'd just wanted out.

—but his solo career quickly fizzled. Despite rumours of an appearance on Strictly Come Dancing, AJ hasn't seen the limelight in some time.

"Absolutely ridiculous. Has no one even listened to the score of Starmaker?" A scoff. A very familiar scoff. "Honestly. I should write in and complain."

Crowley eased the magazine from his face - then, eased the sunglasses from his eyes. At a plinth, staring with derision at the same magazine he held in his hands, was Aziraphale Fell. The only one of their band who could actually sing. The only one of their band that the general public had not seen as a heart throb, despite being absolutely fucking gorgeous. And he was here. In front of Crowley. For the first time since they'd shared a kiss backstage and Aziraphale had walked back on to sing Nightingales like it had meant nothing.

He wanted to walk away. Wanted to throw the magazine to the floor and head off in the nearest direction as fast and as far as he could. But, instead, he waited until Aziraphale's gaze caught his. And then: "Hello, Angel."

Give me a number - that’s how many seconds I’ll spend thinking of an Aziraphale/Crowley AU to write for you in 200 words or more.

[xrk-art]

[Post S2; Idea for S3, might end comic]

【--> The Supreme Archangel ascended to earth in the desperate need of stopping the new 'end of the world' that is coming but he needs his demon companion first.】

-Crowley- Please, we-..the world will end, if we don't do anything-... People will die !

- EVERY HUMAN WILL DIE ANYWAY !- *the demon screamed as he walked to get away from the angel that was following him for a long time now*

- Kids will die ! *the angel screamed back*

-.........

*Crowley stopped his steps just as Aziraphale. Only the silence was remaining in the alley they've reached on their path, no one but them were present, as if the people knew no one should disturb them here*

-Please Crowley..

- I can't give you what you want Aziraphale. I could never.

-....

- Leave me alone now!- And go back to your..ngk- 'angelic' duties as the 'supreme archangel' tsk-!

-......

*Crowley turned his back from the angel, even if he wanted to go, his body wasn't moving anymore, deep down he wanted to know what his angel would say or do now. But none of the two celestial entities were talking nor moving the slilest, only a heavy silence was remaining.*

-*The angel muttered in his breath a few words the demon could barely hear:*

..I..want.. you.

- What?

*Crowley turned back to Aziraphale, listening and paying attention to every word, every move or breaths the angel was taking.*

- I want.. you Crowley. You're the only thing I want and the only thing I thought I could never have.. I shouldn't have let go so easily.. It is my fault, all of this.

*The demon, strangely calm and still, was listening attentively to his angel, his eyes hidden by his dark glasses following the mouvement of the angel's mouth as he spoke.*

- I-.. I love you. I love you so much and yes I would like to spend the rest of the eternity with you. I know it's late but i-

*Aziraphale voice got soon cut off by the dry lips of Crowley on his own lips. Instinctively, the angel closed his eyes, discovering all again the sensation he missed for all the time he was away from his destiny.*

*Slowly and carefully, he rested his hands on the back of the demon, Crowley's hand grabbing him by his stupid archangel tie he hates so much but still wear (he would surely burn it when he'll be done) and the other one on the back of his head.*

*Tears were falling through the embrace of the celestials and the birds never sang so loud, especially some Nightingales.*

*The grip on the tie eventually became weaker, the demon's hand slowly slidding on Aziraphale shoulder. After some final seconds, the mouths separated themself from the other unwillingly, still in miss of their contact. The angel opened his eyes again and looked at his celestial soulmate. He wanted to see his demon's eyes, he needed to see them. Slowly, Aziraphale took off Crowley's glasses to reveal his yellow serpents eyes looking into the blue of his own. Crowley didn't move anymore, his hand resting on Aziraphale's chest, he just wanted to stay there, freeze the moment and let it that way for a few thousand years, maybe another 6000 years.*

- There you are my dearest ♡

- I.. ngrr- I was always there for you.. if.. you'd come back.

*Aziraphale smiled sadly, looking down, guilty of his own naivete. Of course the angel did not finish his apology and yes, there was still some things to talk about. But, right now? He looked back at his soulmate eyes, landed in, putting his hands on Crowley's neck and kissed him again, feeling the demon's hands hugging his back as his lips and tongue responded the kiss, a smile forming on each others mouths.*

Good day/night ♡ ^w^

[sonnetnumber23]

Good Omens 2 Re-watch. Episode 5.

“You leave me with no alternative” – says Aziraphale to the musician preparing to promise to give him a book for free.

[Love the Doctor Who theme playing in the background, hehe]

“Nina and Maggie are depending on me. They just don’t know it yet.”

First of all, all those jokes about Aziraphale organizing a ball to dance with Crowley are actually very true. And I don’t think he’s doing it just to hold Crowley’s hand – he really wants to see Nina falling in love with Maggie so that he himself could believe that Crowley might open up to him someday at last. Again: he wants to have control over something; he wants to feel that he is capable to make someone happy, and to deal with his own problems himself too.

Secondly, Aziraphale could have just as well made all those people come to the ball – after all he made those men in suits leave his bookshop and never return – but he chooses to negotiate with them, manipulate them, but let them come on their own free will. He’s basically tempting them all, but “They don’t have to say yes,” as Crowley once put it. And Crowley is following him around watching this.

***

I love speeches they do in Hell. :D Dagon in the first season, now Shax. :D No wonder, Crowley was the one to record the greeting message. XD

***

Nina talking to Crowley is so much gentler than when she’s with anybody else. Both here and later when she tells his about Lindsay leaving. You just see how she feels him and relates to him. It’s like it’s easier for her to talk to someone for whom everything is harder than for most of other people. She’s all prickly with Maggie and Aziraphale because quite often they act like the world is a happy place made of rainbows and unicorns with kind people all around you. Compared to that Crowley must seem kind of more real to her, or at least less annoying, huh.

And God, oh God, Crowley’s face after that conversation. How can a person show so much emotion with their dark glasses on?

***

The scene on the terrace of the French restaurant leaves me with a whole bunch of complicated feelings. They’ve probably all been described already, but if I try to lay them out for myself…

The first time I watched I didn’t even pay that much attention to the “smitten” joke, because I was a bit disturbed by how little attention Aziraphale pays to Crowley’s concerns. “You’re being silly” is not the way you should calm down your demon, Aziraphale!

But, as I looked through the gifs later, and now during the re-watch, I came to realize that this moment also shows me that side of Aziraphale that I’ve been trying to feel and describe in these posts.

Now, we’ve got this “smitten” joke, which everyone likes to mention, and it’s great because it’s just in the middle of two POV’s, so to speak.

When Crowley starts talking, he’s damn serious. Though he doesn’t talk directly about all his concerns, he’s still very much in the state where he wants Aziraphale to listen to him, to hear his worries. “I spent last night worrying… He could smite me…” I wonder if little part of Crowley wishes in this moment that Aziraphale would think of the danger he’s putting Crowley in and give in, and give up his stupid idea to hide Gabriel further – at least for Crowley’s sake, and this way Crowley might keep him safe.

But then Crowley happens to stumble upon this unserious linguistic matter – “smote… smited?” – and his whole rant is compromised, as if he is too afraid himself to sound too pleading too desperate. Remember, he did completely the same when he was going to ask Aziraphale for holy water. “Walls have ear… trees have ears… ducks have ears. Do ducks have ears?” – absolutely the same. Poor boy, he just can’t speak seriously about his own fears, the danger he is in. :’( Too nervous, too afraid to ask… T_T

Crowley is known for talking a lot about how he is selfish and values his own existence above all, and yet he is always the first to take huge risks to save others. Like in every single historical minisode this season, and several times in the first season too.

And here he suddenly bares his fears to Aziraphale hoping that the angel would see that if Crowley is afraid then it’s serious and he should be afraid too.

But the thing is that he gets a completely opposite effect.

Aziraphale suddenly feels more confident. He feels responsible, and therefore he feels the strength he needs to carry out this responsibility. We’ve already seen him like this: when he tries to snap Crowley out of his panic after Warlock’s birthday and come up with a plan, at the end of the world in season 1 starting with the refusal to fight the war and further; we’ll see it later, when he “does the thing with the halo” because nothing else and no one else is helping.

And he enjoys it. You can clearly see it while he’s convincing Crowley that he has nothing to fear. It’s not because Aziraphale is oblivious of the danger or doesn’t care about Crowley’s safety. He does, he’s just met Shax after all. He just can’t help and enjoy the feeling of being brave and sure and ready to act and protect – for once. He wants it so much – to feel capable, to feel competent. I wrote in the previous rewatch posts why.

We’re so used to the (head)canon that Aziraphale loves playing damsel in distress and letting Crowley save him. But this season states it quite clearly – if partly as a joke – that he does it for Crowley more than for himself. “Saving me makes him so happy.” That’s a joke, because Aziraphale knows perfectly well that most of those times he did need saving. But whether he does or doesn’t need saving, Aziraphale is always ready to admit that Crowley has done something wonderful. He knows Crowley loves it. And Aziraphale knows he would love it too. “There must be something I could do for you.”

So yeah, maybe he is a bit intoxicated by this feeling, maybe he is too sure and optimistic about Gabriel, maybe his plan is a bit rubbish (though let’s admit – the ball plan worked better than Crowley’s rain plan), but his motives are pure.

[Oh God, I wish so much to finally see a situation where Crowley would have to rely on Aziraphale for something big and Aziraphale will be capable enough to save the day and Crowley…]

***

Should we or do we even have to talk about all the moments where people call Crowley nice in this season? Apart from Aziraphale, there’s Jim and Mrs Sandwich and really Nina would do so too if she wasn’t Nina. It’s so… On one hand, it’s for fans and all, and it works – I do a little delighted noise every time Crowley can’t help being nice and someone mentions it.

[My theory is that there wasn’t enough nice and deep Crowley in S1, so now we’re getting what they owed us.]

On the other hand, doesn’t it sound a bit like foreshadowing to you? Or, like the things we ought to pay attention to. Crowley doing good just because “why not” and because “I do what I please”, kind of proves Aziraphale’s point which is: Crowley hasn’t ever been bad, he deserves Heaven as much as (if not more than) other angels do.

***

I’m really not a fan of Aziraphale messing with people’s emotions. I know he means well, but making people feel fine and even happy while they have all reasons to be upset looks far too much as robbing them of their free will.

That’s a bit like the thing he does with Crowley at the end, isn’t it – thinking he can make him happy even if Crowley doesn’t want it, thinking he knows better what’s best for him.

And this is such a striking contrast with the beginning of the episode where Aziraphale goes to great lengths to get people come to the party on their own free will.

Again, I think this comes from the notion that this time round he’s responsible, he has an idea, and he is so excited to see it work, to be able to save the day. For once. He enjoys being in charge so much, he even asks Crowley to go out so that he can surprise him with the new bookshop look later.

The same comes for the ending where Aziraphale is so happy to be the savior that he doesn’t even listen to the person he’s trying to save.

I can understand him, I know how easy it is to cross this line and not even notice it, especially when you’re feeling euphoric about something.

But of course it was wrong both times. It even reminds of that horrible moment in S1 when Adam makes his friends smile while they’re crying.

***

The whole atmosphere of the ball surrounded by demons is so NeilGaimany, it suddenly feels as if the stakes are higher than you expected. At least for a moment. I must say I like it that in the end it turned out that no humans were hurt after all.

Crowley throwing himself between Maggie and the demons is a moment that makes me jump a little. It’s not Aziraphale, Aziraphale isn’t even around to be impressed, and Crowley doesn’t know yet who those ominous creatures are – and his instinct is to defend the human and to stop something bad from happening.

And oh how much I love the fact that Crowley talks to those demons as someone of a higher rank! :D I love being reminded that Crowley was cool and actually very high-up in Hell. And he still has a lot more power than average demons or angels.

[I really suspect that one of the reasons I liked this season so much on the first watch was because it gave me all my favourite things about Crowley, lol.]

***

Aziraphale looking at Maggie while she and Nina are dancing – there’s so much gentleness and hope, and longing in that face! He wants the same for himself so much. And he hopes for it.

At the same time Crowley is worrying crazy, the whole weight of all these people’s fates on his shoulders. And Aziraphale isn’t listening to him. There’s already a lot of great heartbreaking meta about the way they keep things from each other and then not listening when the other one tries to talk.

I just want to stress how brilliantly the POV in this scene is done: with Aziraphale, we desperately want Crowley to take his hand and dance and talk and appreciate the beautiful thing he’s created to solve their problem (because as Aziraphale sees it, if they fool Heavens, Gabriel won’t be discovered – he doesn’t know yet that Shax has already acted on her threat). And with Crowley, we get frustrated with Aziraphale for not listening, for acting recklessly and putting them all in danger. And at the same time both of them just want to hold hands. XD

And then it’s Aziraphale who puts himself between Shax and the humans (and Crowley). He is confident and I like it just as much as I like cool and bossy Crowley. And when Gabriel volunteers to go out Aziraphale says he will protect him because he promised, and he’s still doing it with his confident, guardian-angel voice, which even sounds a little bit lower than his usual voice. He has it in him – the Aziraphale he wants to be: brave, competent, true to his word. And it comes naturally to him, even though he doesn’t always have resources to keep fighting.

There’s such sad irony that we’ve heard him be like that when he defends the Earth, humans, Gabriel. But we’ve never heard or seen him defending Crowley, have we? We’ve actually seen him defending other things and people from Crowley. Which is just… Uuuugh! Again, it’s all so natural: he sees Crowley as equal, even as someone stronger, cleverer, cooler – so Crowley doesn’t need, can’t need Aziraphale’s protection, not in this way, surely?

I hope so much that we’re yet to see Aziraphale putting Crowley above all else and defending him with all he has. I’m sure Crowley’s going to explode. Or at least I will.

***

[On a side not: I wonder whose clothes were the suit and the furry coat the Gabriel is wearing at the party? :D Did Aziraphale just have them in the bookshop?? Why?? XD]

***

Ahaha, hellish bureaucracy and Crowley’s bluff is just so Good Omens, I love it.

But he isn’t listening to Aziraphale just as Aziraphale didn’t listen to him. :( Well, he’s absolutely got his reasons: Aziraphale has put them all in danger, and after all demons are Crowley’s field of expertise. But still. It leaves Aziraphale again feeling his failure, feeling that he’s just been put back in his place.

I think the joke “saving me makes him so happy” is both a joke and Aziraphale’s little attempt to get back some of his self-esteem before the inevitable battle and after he’s just been put down by Nina. It’s interesting how Nina’s words echo in Shax’s line later in E6 “…Crowley’s moral support angel”.

Earlier I wrote about Aziraphale robbing humans and Crowley of their own free will. So here we kind of see the reason why he doesn’t see how wrong this is: people keep pointing out that he has no will of his own. And it’s a sore spot. Because on one hand he’s spent his whole eternity being told that his opinion and actions don’t matter. And on the other, he keeps relying on Crowley, because he doesn’t find it bad to rely on someone he loves and trusts. Just like he wishes he could rely on God. And that’s why he can’t see his error: he’s doing what’s in these people’s interests, he’s saving them, surely they’ll be happy to entrust their lives and will to someone who loves them?? Aziraphale would be. He always is.

I know some of these conclusions contradict each other but that’s because the characters’ feelings are so conflicted. They feel so much at every given second, and they have so much background that is not easy to shake off.

[up-in-flames-writing]

Here's a little prompt for u! What did Elspeth do with the 90 guineas? Maybe Aziraphale and Crowley run into her again, maybe it's just about her. Your choice! Happy writing!

I hope you didn't expect a Scottish accent! Cause I seriously don't know how to write those...

~~==~~==~~==~~==

"I never was the motherly type." Elspeth sat in a chair, listening to it creak and groan beneath her slight weight. A droplet of water was dripping onto her hat, plink, plink. A child, a small girl of no more than five years old, was sitting beneath the chair she sat on, curled around a musty, dirty stuffed rabbit. She didn't seem to mind its many holes & tears, the stink or the squelch beneath her fingers. She really liked that rabbit.

He sat there, opposite her in the only other chair in the room, with his long legs, and his unnaturally red hair, and his fake Scottish accent.

"No, neither was I." He said, and the little boy of three in his lap cheered every time the man's knee bounced.

"It's what she would've wanted though, innit?" 'Time heals all wounds', what posh. Elspeth still choked up when thinking about Wee Morag, and five years should have been long enough to wash away that stain on her conscience, shouldn't it?

"To adopt a bunch of brats off the streets?" The brat in his lap was leaving a dirty patch on his trousers, and even the dark, almost black, material couldn't have possibly been safe from the muddy, slobbery, boogery handprints of a toddler.

"No! Not that. Taking kids like us off the street. Giving them a roof over their heads, and at least some food. Give 'em a better chance." The little girl beneath her chair grabbed her ankle with one of her grubby, little hands. Elspeth was almost proud of herself, she no longer jumped when one of the anklebiters touched her.

"Lovely work, dear girl!" The other one, the British git who couldn't decide what he wanted, came into the living room from the kitchen with a gaggle of his own following him, "But I do have to ask, how you manage to feed them all."

"Easy. Wash a brat, brush the hair on them, & posh gits like you throw a few coins here & there to the starving orphans. The older kids also do odd jobs from time to time, earn their keep well." She didn't want to tell them of the mysterious benefactor who she had never met, never seen, never heard. The person who left them all a few shillings every time they were behind on rent, or a quid when they were short on food. They didn't need to know that.

"Well, you're getting along nicely." Said the man with the red hair & the boy on his lap. His glasses slid down his nose ever so slightly, & there was a cheeky glint in his yellow eyes. She didn't bother asking, not after the laudanum incident. He could keep his secrets, after all, she had her own to keep as well.

~~==~~==~~==~~==

Hope you enjoy, & thank you for the prompt! If I get more, I'll post them all on AO3 in one story, & then link it here.