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forsssnaken · 5 months

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Aziraphale's Literary Discovery

Important note: I am no longer writing stuff like this. It was a nice way for me to be happy while in a rather precarious mental state, but I no longer enjoy it all the same way I once did. I'm keeping it up as it was a gift, and there are still people who may enjoy it, but I am unhappy with my writing how it was in this fic, and I don't enjoy writing this stuff anymore. I still write good omens fanfics now, if you want to give me a chance there.

THIS. IS. A. TICKLING. FIC. COMPLETELY. SFW.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS @practickles!!! I am your squealing santa this year :)) I hope this is everything you hoped for and more!! (and now i can follow you without being worried that i'll blow my cover lol)

@squealing-santa

screw canon(/j), they are happy together and have tickles.

switch!aziraphale, switch!crowley.

cw: light mentions of alcohol/sobering up magically, cursing (because it's Crowley), using a miracle to pin someone that could be read as invisible bondage.

Aziraphale turned a page in his book, but wasn't really reading anymore. This had been happening more and more often: he would stop reading just to think about the demon who was currently asleep on his couch.

Aziraphale and Crowley had finished off some good wine last night, and instead of sobering up, Crowley had decided to sleep it off on the bookshop's couch. The angel had sobered up, reading all through the night with the occasional glance to the demon's sleeping form.

Honestly, Aziraphale prefers Crowley awake. He loves the demon's antics and being able to spend time together (although the serenity and calmness radiating off the demon's lanky form was delightful). He didn't technically need to breathe, but he did -- soft deep breaths that were almost soft snores.

Aziraphale quickly snapped himself out of the trance he had been in, staring at his friend(?), and glancing back at the book. It was a sweet romcom, one that left Aziraphale feeling giddy and with butterflies in his stomach. The couple in his book were playful, and in the current scene, were poking each other and giggling. This was a fascinating idea that humans called "tickling", which led to supposedly uncontrollable laughter and seemed like a sweet bonding exercise.

Something clicked in his mind and he looked back at Crowley asleep on the couch, limbs splayed out haphazardly. His tight-fitting shirt had risen a little, leaving a sliver of the pale skin of his lower stomach on display. Aziraphale gasped excitedly, looking back at his book where the tickle fight was happening. Supposedly, even small touches could lead to ticklish sensations!

He stood up, beginning to creep over to the sleeping figure, before realizing that Crowley could sleep through almost anything and walking over normally. The angel stared at him with wide eyes, glancing back and forth between his calm face and the sliver of exposed stomach. He tentatively reached out a finger, poking Crowley's abdomen.

There was a faint reaction, a small breath hitching in between small snores and Crowley squirmed a bit. Was Crowley ticklish?! How silly! How human! What a delightful discovery! He giddily clapped, then began tracing the sliver of exposed skin. Crowley huffed, squirmed, and scrunched up his nose a bit, before rolling over and crossing his arms over his stomach.

Aziraphale was ecstatic at his findings, and couldn't wait to enact something rather devious (by his standards)!

A few days later, he woke a grumpy Crowley up from his nap (and if Crowley became less grumpy when he noticed that he was covered in a cozy blanket, the angel didn't need to know). Aziraphale had a mission: go on a date -- a Friend Date (he told himself, at least) -- and bring up tickling to him! The angel had an innate need to tickle Crowley now, see his presumably adorable reactions, and have the physical contact that the angel began to crave.

"Come on, Crowley!" Aziraphale grinned, pulling the demon into a seated position by his hand.

Crowley grumbled, "For what?"

Crowley seemed entirely uninterested, but in truth, he loved spending time with Aziraphale and would do anything if Aziraphale truly wanted to spend time with him.

"A picnic!" Aziraphale gestured to a wicker basket stocked full of goodies.

Crowley rolled his eyes (but was truly content with this plan), put his shoes on, and drove them to a gorgeous woodsy park. When they had found their own spot, Aziraphale spread out a blanket on the grass, sat down, and began unpacking some small sandwiches and poured them both a glass of wine.

"Not so much now, my dear boy," He handed Crowley the wine, "I'd like you awake for a little while. It's dreadfully boring being all alone and reading by myself!"

He got nothing but a grunt in return, but everything was perfect, so Aziraphale continued on with his ramblings.

In between bites of his sandwiches, he told Crowley all about the books he had been reading, but especially about the lovely rom-com he had just read.

"They had such a lovely relationship! Human love just excites me so much! They do so many sweet things together, not unlike us!"

"Ngk-" Crowley choked slightly on his wine and turned a bit pink, but Aziraphale didn't seem to notice.

"They certainly touched a lot more than we do, though, Crowley!" The angel pouted.

Crowley shrugged, "We're not having sex."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale's mouth gaped as he gasped, smacking the demon softly on his leg, "Don't say that! They touched plenty without sexual implications!"

Crowley sipped his wine, not needing to respond.

"They cuddled, and kissed, and even- well," Aziraphale cut himself off, suddenly a bit embarrassed.

This now intrigued Crowley, who sat up a bit, and looked at Aziraphale, scooting closer so they were side by side.

He teased Aziraphale, "Oh? Was it sexual then? You realized I was right and you were wrong?"

Aziraphale huffed indignantly, "No! I'm just not sure if you even know what it is!"

Oh, Crowley was so up for a challenge. "I'm sure I would! I know much more about humans than you do."

Aziraphale leaned closer, grinning and placing a hand on the blanket behind Crowley, so they were almost touching. "Oh really?"

Crowley smirked and nodded, taking his sunglasses off and stowing them safely in the picnic basket, so he could look at Aziraphale in the eyes to show him how serious he was.

"Yes, they were tickling each other!" Aziraphale grinned, hoping that Crowley wouldn't know about tickling, so he could teach him.

"Oh, that? How would I not know about that?" Crowley didn't let anything slip, so Aziraphale thought it might be possible that he just didn't know.

"Yes, I think that's quite intimate," Aziraphale reached out and placed a hand on Crowley's knee, "it seems sweet to me!"

Crowley grumbled, avoiding eye contact awkwardly. "What, is this your way of asking me to tickle you?"

Aziraphale stammered, protesting quickly, "Why would I want that?!"

Now it was Crowley's turn to look offended, "There's nothing wrong with wanting that!"

Aziraphale was now slightly grumpy; this wasn't how it was supposed to go!

Crowley had that devilish (albeit attractive) grin across his face, placing a hand on Aziraphale's side.

"This wasn't how this was supposed to goHO-" Aziraphale smacked a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

Crowley, that evil, evil demon, had squeezed Aziraphale's side! What a terrible thing for his corperal form to feel! Aziraphale, in all his planning, could not have anticipated this!

A small smirk crept across Crowley's face as he put the other hand on Aziraphale's clothed side and squeezed a few times in a row.

Aziraphale's hands flew down from his mouth to his sides, weakly pushing at Crowley's hands as he laughed heartily. His smile was beautiful. It was, well, angelic.

Crowley was right. Aziraphale thought this was quite nice. He hadn't laughed this hard in a while, and seeing Crowley's enjoyment of his reactions was amazing!

Crowley smiled widely, skittering his nimble fingers along Aziraphale's gorgeous plush stomach, before refocusing his attention on Aziraphale's thighs. Aziraphale's magnificently scrumptious thighs, currently busy with Aziraphale's frantically kicking feet. Crowley stopped, giving Aziraphale a small break, before placing his hands on those delightful thighs.

Aziraphale was not worried in the slightest; he had never heard of someone's thighs being ticklish, just the usual suspects like the upper body, feet, neck, and hips. But thighs? That seemed silly... until Crowley started squeezing them.

Aziraphale barked out a laugh, falling gently on his back as he was unable to hold himself sitting up. He made noises that were so embarrassing: he even squealed! Crowley was unwavering in his ticklish squeezing, grinning broadly. Aziraphale was laughing harder than he ever had, his head shaking back and forth as he laughed frantically, beginning to push at Crowley's hands again. This was Crowley's cue to slow down, and he moved his hands back up to the angel's stomach to gently trace shapes as Aziraphale recovered.

"Y- you're evil!" Aziraphale gasped, still giggling.

"I'm a demon, that's kind of the whole point," Crowley deadpanned, although unable to wipe the smile off his face.

Aziraphale caught his breath, then grabbed Crowley's hands. Crowley's eyes widened slightly, but he tried to play it off, scoffing.

Aziraphale sat up quickly, pushing Crowley onto his back and pinning him there with shocking strength. Crowley looked at him confused and began squirming awkwardly. Aziraphale had fully sat on his hips, pinning his arms above his head as he leaned over the demon, their faces quite close together.

"What? How did you-" Crowley stammered, baffled by Aziraphale's strength, "What are you doing?"

Aziraphale grinned, excited to give Crowley all the exposition of his plan. "When I was reading that book, I tried tickling you, when you were asleep. I poked you, and you reacted! I have to try it again!"

Crowley blushed a bit, before retorting, "Angel, anyone would react to being poked. I'm not ticklish, I'm a demon. Being ticklish is all- cute and innocent. I'm neither of those things."

"I beg to differ," Aziraphale grinned, slipping his warm hand under Crowley's tight shirt, beginning to trace circles on Crowley's stomach.

Crowley's brain short circuted. Not only was the angel on top of him, but he was touching Crowley more intimately than they'd ever touched. And Crowley did feel something -- was that being ticklish?

Crowley squirmed, averting his eyes from Aziraphale's as he clamped his mouth shut.

Aziraphale, ever so oblivious, was slightly upset that it didn't really effect Crowley like it did when he was asleep. Maybe he was controlling his reactions? Maybe he truly was right and wasn't ticklish!

Aziraphale huffed, "You really reacted the other day, I promise!"

Crowley was trying his best to not react, his serpentine eyes flicking towards Aziraphale's well-manicured hand, still tracing under his shirt.

"Ngk- just give it a rest, angel!" Crowley sputtered, feeling giggles (Yes, giggles! Demons aren't supposed to giggle!) bubbling up in his chest.

Aziraphale was starting to feel a bit hopeless; he thought it would have been incredibly endearing if Crowley was ticklish. The demon barely smiled (not counting his mischievous smirks), and Aziraphale would love to hear him laugh, truly laugh, for the first time in years. Aziraphale pouted and decided to give it one last go.

He poked Crowley in the side.

Crowley gasped, jumped, and made awkward eye contact with the angel on top of him.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, was ecstatic! A giddy smile broke across his face.

"No, angel, no. I was just startled-" Crowley said quickly, squirming.

"Oh my dear Crowley, my dear silly demon..." Aziraphale grinned.

"No angel I-" Crowley couldn't focus on being called Aziraphale's, due to the imminent danger of him being tickled.

Much to his dismay, Aziraphale began ruthlessly skittering his fingers over Crowley's stomach and sides. Damn his fashionable outfits! The shirt he was wearing was incredibly thin and did nothing to protect him from the angel's attack.

Crowley tried to keep his mouth shut and hide his reactions, but his attempts were futile. He burst out into loud laughter and squirmed as much as he could (which wasn't much). It made sense why tickling was used as a torture method in the past; he would have given up any secret that Aziraphale could ask for in this moment! Although, there was something nice about it: the intimacy, the giddy feeling, and Aziraphale's touch gave him a rush of happiness.

"Why are you laughing, my dear boy? Thought of something devious? Scheming?" Aziraphale laughed along with Crowley -- for such a supposedly evil being, he sure had a contagious laugh -- and scribbled his fingers even faster. "Or are you just... ticklish?"

And if Crowley's cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink, he hoped Aziraphale didn't notice.

"You're- teasing- me!" He sputtered indignantly, through bright, happy laughter.

Aziraphale paused, pretending to look offended, "No I'm not! I'm simply asking questions to figure out why you're laughing so much!"

In the midst of talking, he wasn't paying attention to what his hands were doing. His hands moved down to the hem of Crowley's shirt, causing the demon to jump, eyes wide.

Aziraphale's eyebrow raised quickly, "Oh?"

Crowley shook his head, stammering "No," and tugging on his hands.

As both of them knew, although the angel's corporeal form was strong, Crowley could easily have gotten his arms free by non-human means. Maybe he just didn't want to.

The most devilish grin to ever cross an angels face suddenly appeared on Aziraphale's. He let go of Crowley's arms, but not before preforming a miracle that kept his arms trapped in place, taut above his head.

Crowley's snake-like eyes grew wider as he tugged frantically on his arms, beginning to giggle nervously. His whole 'bad boy' persona was completely gone now, and he was quite enjoying this (though he'd never admit such a silly thing).

"Oh Crowley," Aziraphale teased, wiggling his fingers at the squirming demon, "are you prepared for your demise?"

That shut Crowley up.

Until Aziraphale did something truly evil. Something so evil that even the higher-ups in Hell couldn't dream of. He repeatedly squeezed Crowley's hips.

Crowley made the most embarrassing noise possible -- he squealed.

"AAAAZiraphale!!!" He laughed, wiggling as much as possible, "YOU BASSSSTARD!!"

Curse that stupid hissing. Usually he was able to disguise it, whenever Aziraphale caught him off guard with accidental(?) flirting or made a silly joke that a big bad demon like himself shouldn't laugh at. Speaking of laughing, Crowley was laughing more than he ever had in his life.

And it felt amazing. Having his angel so close to him in such an intimate way, literally on top of him. He was able to let his guard down.

The angel gasped, "What did you just call me, my dear boy?!"

Aziraphale skittered his fingers around Crowley's stomach and sides, relishing in the rare and genuine laughter.

Luckily, although neither of them could be sure if it was intentional or not, Aziraphale's miracle that pinned Crowley's hand was slowly faltering. Crowley didn't realize (he was laughing too hard to think about much) until his arms subconsciously snapped down to grab at Aziraphale's hands.

Aziraphale paused his attack, concerned about his friend(?). Crowley looked at him, as his leftover giggles became slightly more devious.

Crowley latched his clawed hands onto Aziraphale's clothed sides and rapidly squeezed, disrupting the power that Aziraphale had held over him, and toppling them both over onto their sides, facing each other.

Aziraphale tickled Crowley back, angelic giggles pouring out of his mouth.

"You- you're such a demon!" He exclaimed through loud laughter.

Crowley nodded, squirming closer to Aziraphale as they tickled each other.

They were practically cuddling as their fingers slowed to tracing each other's abdomens, softly giggling.

Aziraphale stared into Crowley's gorgeous auburn eyes and was struck with a sense of overwhelming love.

Crowley's smile was wider than it should have been from leftover giggles as he watched the angel and his smile and gorgeous face. As if God Herself had heard his thoughts, sunlight struck the angel's face in a certain way where he looked like he was glowing (although he may have been radiating an otherworldly glow from overwhelming happiness).

They stayed there for a while, in each others arms, staring lovingly into each other's eyes.

If you made it this far, thank you. Reblogs help writers and artists on tumblr a lot, so consider reblogging if you enjoyed <3. If you'd like, send me an ask if you want to talk about anything (related or unrelated to this fic), as it motivates me to write more.

#god is an ineffable husbands shipper fr #ss2k23 #squealing santa #squealing santa 2k23 #ticklish!aziraphale #switch!aziraphale #lee!aziraphale #ler!aziraphale #ticklish!crowley #switch!crowley #lee!crowley #ler!crowley #good omens tickling #good omens tickle fic

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caspianthegeek · 3 days

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Prompt Ten: Wore such a frown

Crowley’s eyes were covered and hands tied roughly around his back. He didn’t try to escape whoever had got the drop on him. With Aziraphale’s absence, it seemed all the fight had left him. Instead, he sagged in their hands.

“Are we sure this is him?”

“How many demons with a snake tattoo on their face would be hanging out in Soho?”

Angels, then. Despite himself, a small part of his curiosity flared. Would they take him to Heaven? Did he want to go to Heaven? They carried him and he heard the hum of the elevator before being dragged limply through what he knew must be painfully white hallways.

Finally, he was thrown to the ground where he landed on his knees. The bag was pulled from his face and after a few blinks he could barely make out the angel scowling down at him.

Aziraphale.

The angel’s eyebrows drew in, the frown deepening. “Why did you bring him here?”

“We needed a demon to test the weapon out on, did we not?” Sandalphon responded proudly.

The blond angel continued to gaze at him, his face set but Crowley could read the fear in his eyes. “Get out,” Aziraphale growled.

“But—”

Aziraphale turned his full attention to the other angels in the room. “I am the Supreme Archangel, am I not? And I am giving an order. Out.”

The others hesitated nervously, then one by one filed out. Crowley still knelt, Aziraphale perched over him his arms spread slightly.

The moment the room was empty, the angel snapped and released his bonds. “How dare they—it’s no matter. We’ll get you out of here and back to the bookshop. Do you think you can stay there?”

“W-why would…”

The angel paused, tilting his head. “Did they drug you, my dear? Are you alright?”

“My dear?”

A dozen emotions flitted across Aziraphale’s face. Worry, confusion, fear, and Crowley recognized when understanding hit. “You thought… Crowley you could believe that of me? Oh, I am so sorry.” He fell to his knees in front of the demon. His hands lifted and then paused. “You thought it was real. That I could think that of you. I’d hoped you’d figure it out, piece together we were being watched.”

The words made no sense. Piece what together. And why was Aziraphale being so kind to him? He’d left him behind, he’d—

There was a small huff of frustration from the angel. “As it seems it is not abundantly clear, I love you. In every way. Which is why I need to get you out of here and somewhere safe.”

Crowley didn’t understand any of this, but Aziraphale’s hands had risen to cup his face gently and he couldn’t help but nuzzle into them. As the world seemed to settle into its rightful place, one fact hit Crowley. “But you’re here.”

“It’s where I need to be to protect you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Heaven was cruel. Crowley knew that and had seen it firsthand. “If you can.”

The acceptance on Aziraphale’s face was all Crowley needed to know this was the truth: that the angel had come here to protect him, knowing he may not walk out again.

“Don’t you realize that losing you would hurt more than anything they could do to me?” Crowley whispered.

There was a knock at the door that made them both hold their breath until the footsteps trailed away again. Aziraphale still hadn’t removed his hands from where they rested on Crowley’s face and now he leaned in, bringing their lips together gently.

It was everything their first kiss had not been. A promise, rather than a plea. And Crowley understood. Wouldn’t he have done the same thing if Hell had threatened Aziraphale? Whatever it would take to protect the piece of his heart that knelt before him.

“Please, go to the bookshop. Stay there. I will return. I promise.”

Crowley nodded, “Unless you need me. You’ll call?”

“I have the number,” Aziraphale smiled sadly.

They stood together. Aziraphale looked him over one more time, taking in every sight of the demon before him. “The shop will be safe,” he promised softly.

And with a chime, Crowley was sitting on Aziraphale’s bed in the top floor of the shop. It was as disorienting as it was welcome. He turned his face upwards, as if he could see through the ceiling to Heaven itself. And he promised himself that he’d do whatever it took to bring his angel home.

#nightingale may #good omens #good omens fic #aziraphale/crowley #ineffable partners #aziraphale #crowley #caspian writes #supreme archangel Aziraphale

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avelera · 10 months

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So I really thought the plot of S2 of Good Omens was going to include a beat where either Crowley went back to being an angel or Aziraphale accidentally Fell, and I wanted to walk through some of the moments I thought were leading to such a Side-Swap between Aziraphale and Crowley, in part because some of them revolve around mysteries that still haven't been fully explained:

When Crowley went out to the street and had his lightning strike "freakout", I truly thought that was maybe a hint that he had flipped sides (accidentally?) back to being an angel

One reason being the "tiny miracle" he and Aziraphale perform later. Why did it fail so dramatically that it set off the klaxon alarms in Heaven?

One theory I had was that Crowley had already reverted back to being an angel, without realizing, so their miracles didn't cancel each other out. Instead, two heavenly miracles occurred which, combined, created that huge outpouring of power visible from Heaven.

The other theory I had was that the miracle to disguise Gabriel was a tiny, quiet miracle, that it totally worked as intended. The alert Heaven got was Crowley's lightning strike, which was also on the same street, right next to Aziraphale's shop. I thought there'd be a twist around that location confusion, and we'd learn that the power outpouring was from Crowley becoming an angel again. Sadly, no dice on that front (the timing didn't quite work either, and I did enjoy the smash cut to their "quiet" miracle not being so quiet)

Note: We still don't have clarity on why their "tiny miracle" failed so spectacularly!

In the second episode we had so many scenes of Aziraphale questioning his faith in God. Of treading the line. Of lying. Of doing all this behavior that felt just a sneeze away from him Falling.

We have that famous book-based line where Crowley wonders aloud if they got it wrong the whole time, wouldn't it be funny if he did the right thing and Aziraphale did the wrong one? Aziraphale doesn't think that possibility is funny at all, but there are so many small indications and subtle hints that Aziraphale acts in a demonic manner and Crowley in an angelic one.

Note: We still don't have a resolution as to whether Aziraphale's questioning of God will lead to anything. Could be an S3 thing.

Not just in the Resurrectionist plotline where Aziraphale truly does not understand how his nitpicking over the corpse sale led not just to Elspeth and Morag possibly starving, but it directly led to Morag's death. All for the want of a corpse they couldn't even return? Aziraphale's actions were wall to wall evil in that episode. In contract, Crowley not only does favors for Aziraphale this season, he explicitly does not ask for repayment for them. They are truly selfless acts. This is in addition to saving the goats and Job's children.

The thing is, I just couldn't tell if those moments of Angelic Crowley and Demonic Aziraphale were plot points or simple character quirks along the lines of "Just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" - were we just being reminded that these two are both gray? It felt like Crowley did too much good and Aziraphale did too much evil for it to be a quirk rather than a plot point, but then... it wasn't a plot point. Like at all. There was no Falling this season.

When we saw Crowley in Heaven, I really wondered if the fact he could hack into Muriel's files wasn't just a poor password but because Crowley had already, accidentally, Redeemed himself or Risen or whatever you want to call it. I wondered if it was a Clue.

Note: We never got answers as to why or how Crowley was able to hack through Muriel's system. Probably it's been left for S3 but at the very least we got new questions raised around Crowley's power level as an angel and what his power level is currently.

(On that note, did the Gabriel statue ever fucking matter? What was the point of that whole thing? Just a weird statue, that was all??)

When Aziraphale took off his halo, I was excited for the possibility that THIS was it, THIS was when he would reject his angelic nature SOMEHOW, perhaps by necessity to save the shop and Nina and Maggie. Instead it was just... a weapon??? Somehow?? I thought he was doing the same thing as proverbially ripping off his own wings.

Basically, I wanted an ending where Crowley and Aziraphale kiss an reunite and realize they really are so important to one another, they've connected, they've inspired each other, they've changed each other... all at the absolute worst possible moment. If either had Fallen or Risen first, they could have been on the same side, instead I wanted to see them figuratively or literally torn in opposite directions into a Heaven/Hell that they loathe but can't escape because technically, all that you need to do is trust or distrust God in order to Fall or Rise, and it can't be easily or quickly faked, because it's about faith and it took them millennia to find or lose their faith, they can't just go "Whoops, never mind, actually I don't trust/I do trust God after all!" just to get out of it.

Frick I just really wanted to see Angelic Crowley and Demonic Aziraphale absolutely fucking miserable at their situation just as yet another Apocalypse kicks off, so they have to navigate that and the fact they're totally out of their depth in their new lives and they miss each other desperately.

Maybe I'm just too much of a angst muffin but damn, there were so few stakes, so little that was lost or threatened this season. Literally, Aziraphale could turn around right now and do the silly apology dance and really, it would all be a wash, Crowley would take him back in a second. They're not in peril, nothing was truly lost, they're barely separated at this point what with Aziraphale's new status there's really no reason he couldn't even visit Crowley. Barely anything has changed - Crowley always knew that Aziraphale was faithful to Heaven, he just has a promotion now that technically gives him more latitude to call the shots, which could easily mean a lot of time spent on Earth with Crowley too.

*Sigh* I'd probably be less bothered if I didn't feel like there were signs everywhere that some sort of Fall/Rise was coming, unwillingly, for one of them. Maybe it'll still happen in S3! Who knows!

#good omens #good omens spoilers #spoilers #good omens meta

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pinbitch · 1 year

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"and i am CONVINCED that it was azazel scheming to put someone else on the throne of hell to BLOCK lucifer’s ascension from the cage" literally stopped and stared bc i've never heard this one before, can you please elaborate

oh yes! i love this theory! be prepared for a LONG ANSWER

so basically imo the boyking and lucifer’s vessel arcs don’t entirely mesh. why go through all the trouble of creating all the special children and having them compete when sam is the one who HAS to be lucifer’s vessel? what’s the point of creating a monarch who is powerful enough and motivated to rule hell in their own right if they’re just gonna be possessed by lucifer? and why still be feeding babies demon blood in series 1? we know lucifer told azazel to find a child, to find his vessel, but having that child rule hell as the demons were expecting per the boyking comment doesn’t make sense. why would the winner of azazel’s contest ever give up their power and their BODY to be lucifer’s puppet? it doesn’t make sense

so, what does? (or at least is fun and interesting to think about)

i’ve always though demons as a whole should have been more conniving. the hell politics we got were always too simplistic. where are the SCHEMES. surely crowley wasn’t the only one who realised that lucifer had an even lower opinion of demons than of humanity and didn’t want him ruling?

azazel knew lucifer personally, was created by lucifer personally. he knows exactly what lucifer is like, so why wouldn’t he have an accurate understanding of how fucked demonkind would be if lucifer came back and the apocalypse started? also, he’s running hell, why would he want to give up that power? but he’d also want plausible deniability, both so he could control the demons who still support lucifer (like lilith and his own daughter meg!) and also on the off chance he failed and lucifer did rise

which leads us to the special children. this is where i get more into the realm of headcanon in terms of what hell is actually like, but i still think it tracks with the show. the descriptions of hell and the visuals of hell we get are all wildly different. crowley’s queue, dean’s pit, sam’s medieval dungeon, meg’s bone and blood and pain. they’re different enough that i think hell changes based in your perception. either to what will make you suffer the most (dean and meg), or if you’re powerful enough what you tell it to be (crowley very much on purpose, sam subconsciously. he created hell into somewhere he could relatively easily rescue bobby from)

all this to say that hell is a living thing. it can accept or reject a ruler, and the more accepted they are the harder it is for a ruler to be deposed. if they’re integrated with hell enough they simply can’t be. lucifer as the creator of demonkind and original ruler should be the best fit and the most accepted, but lucifer doesn’t want hell, he’ll always resent being there instead of heaven, so hell will never completely accept him. and a demon will never truly be accepted either, because they’re not lucifer and they’re not an angel, so they’re not enough like him to be a fully effective substitute

but a human with demon blood? they’re closer to the divine than a demon, but they don’t know heaven to long for it. there’s every possibility that hell would accept that special child more than azazel and more than lucifer, and because that child has the full power and support of the creature that is hell they might be able to hold the cage closed even with lilith’s death, or simply stop lucifer from taking power in hell once he’s risen, or even outright kill lucifer

so with that in mind, of course sam is the favourite. azazel is gambling here so he’s keeping his options open with multiple candidates, but lucifer’s true vessel is always gonna have the best chance of being accepted by hell and taking lucifer’s place. as long as he can control sam he’s coming up roses

but then azazel dies, and i don't see him trusting his true plans and motivations to any other demon, so they all just play out the apocalypse like they thought they were supposed to from the start. except for the crowleys (and in my headcanon ruby but that’s a question for when i finally finish and publish kindred instruments rip) who are smart enough to figure out that lucifer views them as vaguely useful cockroaches

obviously this is a watsonian answer to a doylist question, but i always find those the most fun anyway

#an ask and an answer #anonymous #supernatural #supernatural meta #sam winchester #azazel #lucifer #idk i just think this interpretation is very fun #and it satisfies my desire for more demons to have three different plans where they come out on top running at all times

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mizgnomer · 2 years

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Good Omens - Behind the Scenes at Tadfield Manor

Excerpt from The Nice and Accurate Good Omens TV Companion:

Eleven years later, on his return to the scene of the diabolical switcheroo, this time with Aziraphale in tow, Crowley finds himself in a very different setting. Gone are the Satanic Nuns of the Chattering Order of St. Beryl’s and their movements in the shadows. Now, with St. Beryl’s never having risen from the ashes, they find the building transformed. Instead, the demon and his angelic associate walk into Tadfield Manor, which has been converted into a venue for office teambuilding away days. Across the manor grounds, an interdepartmental paintball skirmish is in full swing. Naturally, in the presence of such entities, the exercise becomes something altogether more dangerous and deadly.

“Michael Ralph [production designer] did a fantastic job of transforming the forecourt outside the building by dressing it as a battle zone,” says [first assistant director] Cesco Reidy. “We had military vehicles, camouflage nets and an obstacle course. It really was fit for purpose as an adventure playground for grown-ups with guns.”

In order to make the most of the conflict and the chaos that ensues, Douglas Mackinnon and the director of photography, Gavin Finney, called in the high-speed Phantom camera.

“You see it used on football replays, shooting a ridiculous number of frames per second,” explains script supervisor Jemima Thomas. “We wanted to see the paintballs flying as Crowley and Aziraphale walk through in super slow mo, and we staged and choreographed it carefully so they didn’t get splattered.”

While the pair depart without a mark on them, leaving bedlam in their wake, there’s no escaping the enormity of the task they face. For the Antichrist is missing, and Armageddon a matter of days away.

#david tennant #michael sheen #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley and aziraphale #because I love behind the scenes stuff #and my fingers are crossed for even more goodies with season 2 #oh the hours we could spend talking about the hallway/wall scene #stuff i posted #goBts

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unforgivablengk · 4 months

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"Ready to Go Home, Angel?"

So I've worked all my life off and on on drawing, and I'm still not where I want to be, but this fandom makes me want to be so good so I want to show you some progress pictures. Here's what I finished today.

Like I said, I'm still not where I want to be, but this is an improvement. And I'm also learning that patience is a thing I need to try to build up. I'm better when I take my time. I think what I finished today could be even better if I spent even more time doing it.

(also the idea is post S3 with Aziraphale and Crowley having won whatever and Crowley is Raphael cause I love that HC but he's still a demon dw he is not risen)

I also want to give Crowley more of a body, but that's a note to myself lmao Also I really wish I could have a good cartoon style rather than trying to force a realism. CRY

Below the break is the version of this I drew a few weeks ago (and here is the link from when I posted it before)

#drawing #good omens fan art #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #post-season 3 #season 3 speculation #good omens season 3 speculation #crowley is raphael #crowley was raphael before falling #good omens drawing #good omens art

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aziraphales-library · 4 months

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hey do you know of any new fics where crowley goes with azi to heaven an they work as angels in love ?

idk i want to see how this scenario would work out thx

We have have recommended here, and I can only find a couple more to add, as there isn't a dedicated tag for this...

Ignoring the Fine Print by WaneMoose (T)

Set in an alternate universe where Crowley took Aziraphale's offer to come to Heaven with him and be reinstated as an angel. Crowley is notably absent from a Project meeting and Supreme Archangel Aziraphale begins to worry. Discovering a message left behind by the former demon, Aziraphale learns a horrible truth about the nature of his agreement with the Metatron.

To Fall, To Rise by kittygirl2210 (T)

Aziraphale brings Crowley to Heaven, having Risen him to his former status as a Dominion, in order to protect him from the Second Coming. Crowley is less than pleased. Aziraphale also has taken his Supreme Archangel status to his head a bit. I HC that Crowley was Baraqiel before Falling BUT I don't use that name in this fic, so their "angel name" is that but spelled with star emoji symbols

- Mod D

#good omens #good omens s2 #ineffable husbands #angel crowley #canon divergence #mod d #risen demon crowley

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aziraphaledefensesquad · 6 months

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Do you want my hardcore catholic-raised current pagan take on this because you’re getting it

Crowley’s Christ-on-a-cracker I mean crucifix reference:

He is brought down to Earth from heaven. He suffered (fell) died (became a demon on lived on earth to do things and learn to love it) and was buried (in hell). On the third day, he rose again in fulfillment of - the book of life? The ineffable plan? —- are we going to see elements of angel!crowley again? We see bits and pieces of his retained ability. Maybe Risen for him isn’t going back to being an Angel in heaven but just getting his brain furniture back.

He’s not quite a demon and not quite an angel- he’s the most human of them all. He’s experienced humanity heaven and hell as no other, giving him the most unique perspective.

He’s not being positioned here as a ‘son’ parallel to aziraphale’s Mary so don’t get all creepy on me. He’s being Rabbi to aziraphale’s innocence and naivety. It’s not a 1:1 parallel. Shades of gray. He’s being a savior and advocate to humanity, even if reluctant at first. But also perhaps a rabbi of humanity to other angels and demons as well.

Aziraphale in the Assumption of Mary. Catholics, angelicans, Lutherans I think all understand this one a bit more- Upon her death, Mary is brought physically bodily into heaven to reunite with her soul so you might say when shes Discorportared on earth, she is brought up and her body is reunited with her soul. Aziraphale is discorporated and his ethereal-self (body) is brought into heaven and he has to spend time searching for a body. Only to be aided first by a human and then second by the Antichrist himself. As it is, her innocence, purity and piety are meant to be respected.

Though—- aziraphale is walking around in a body given to him by the antichrist and is now going to stationed in heaven. At a high rank. After beginning to learn about grey areas from his demonic counterpart.

Mary is in heaven for Catholics is in high respect through her assumption and serves as an intercessionary between the humans on earth and of heaven and advocates for humans and emphasizes their prayers. Kind of like Aziraphale is now going to be and has effectively been serving as a go-between. And all angels are go-between, really, but he’s the only one on earth for 6000 years. Protestants believe thinking of Mary this way is wrong or idolatry. How does this factor??

And have I mentioned his current corporation he is now ascending into heaven within was created by the antichrist? How unexpected. It’s almost like we should be thinking about how unexpected he might be while interceding for humans.

#aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale defense squad #good omens #good omens meta #religious iconography and how it is interpreted in good omens

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sounknownvoid · 4 months

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Headcanon- Sam should have risen as king of hell in s6

here's honestly what'd have been absolutely brilliant and hot - sam rises after a couple of years - as king of hell (not boy king but king, not samifer but sam- king of hell) ...all demons under his leash and at his command....n luci still in the cage....n cas never raised him, cas not there...

so the boys never have trouble with demons anymore - only when the angels attack or provoke .... n they take care of that, together...

N his 1st act on his return n introduction to dean? - the heads of all the hell-hounds that took him to hell in s3....and the other demons that tortured him...

And then, this time, it's sammy convincing dean that they'd make a good team together and they go on a hunt together - but now sam uses the demons to sniff put or find Intel or to do his "dirty work" ie using them as minions and using his abilities ....

they've worked out an "arrangement " similar to how they did in s6 when sam is soulless- that dean would be his conscience n sam would not use his demons or abilities to hurt but only to track n capture as required....n so, they find a new balance ...n dean discovers (again) that - Yes, sam is monstrous now.....but his "core" is still the same...he'll always be dean's little brother and no Matter how powerful, sam will always need deans care and protection...

And luci-hallucinations n cage trauma does occur - & dean learns of all the horrific things they did to his precious sammy - but alao how he outwitted luci, escaped the cage to regular hell and then solidified his claim there,got demaons under control .....but also how much he still hurts from all of that & they find a way to get Rowena or crowley to help kill lucifer with Sam's demon-army n dean.... only to discover the truth about the mark - but too late - just as luci is killed by dean the darkness is released ....and then that's how they find out about God n take him on as final villain - no leviathans bullshit, no gadreel bullshit, no metatron bullshit, no jack, no Billie, no moc bullshit - or if moc does happen, dean is knight to Sam's king and so they're a "power couple" and cashole is not required so no cas either ... Charlie doesn't die coz she's suped up too after her trip to Oz...

If they ever do a reboot or remake I hope this is the direction they take - id love to see it play out as sam in his full power and dean relearning his love for sam and the horror is the same as the original - that dean can never stop loving his brother and neither can sam - no matter how monstrous they become....just made more explicit n clearer....I don't know - just want to see that thread played out in front of us - just think it'd be interesting to see how they'd end up if sam was allowed to be actually in his own power but kept the co-dependency

#supernatural - dark I guess ?#Head-canon/fic idea/art idea? - sam winchester as the true king of hell returning to dean in s6 n they go hunting together #supernatural

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esthermitchell-author · 7 months

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"Risen To Grace" (A Fan Fiction Based on Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett)

Western Front -- December 24, 1914

Could there be anything more miserable than a trench in the middle of the -- pardon the pun -- godforsaken winter? Crowley grimaced, rubbing his arms with chilled hands. He hadn't been warm in days, and he hated the cold with everything in him. He'd never minded it all that much, before. Now, he loathed it to his very bones.

"Never fucking doing this again," he muttered to himself. He shouldn't even be here. Wouldn't be, either, but he heard whispers Hell was sending Hastur to "deal with" some potential threat to Hell's big plans for the war, and Crowley got a very familiar, sinking feeling. Somewhere, out here in the trenches, was an angel who didn't belong here any more than tits belonged on a frog.

An angel who probably thought he could stop the whole war, single-handedly, and was going to get himself very inconveniently discorporated for his trouble.

"Oh, angel, what am I going to do with you?" Crowley muttered to the empty air, then swore under his breath. His human contact, who claimed he might know where to find someone matching Aziraphale's description, was a week late in getting to their rendezvous point here on the Western Front. If the bastard didn't show up in the next three minutes, Crowley was going to demonically intervene his arse straight into Hell and let them sort out whether or not he belonged there. Would serve the lot of them right.

"Captain Crowley!" He turned at the hail, to find his human contact -- a sergeant in the British army named Young -- hurrying toward him. "I found him, sir!"

Finally. Angel, you are in so much trouble. "Where is he?"

Sergeant Young frowned in worry. "May I ask what you want with him, sir? From what I hear tell, he's kept the better part of the First Battalion alive, almost single-handedly. They call him the Angel of the Bois de Ploegsteert, over that way."

"Of course they do," Crowley muttered, rolling his eyes behind his dark glasses. His angel was supposed to be tucked away safe-and-sound in his bookshop in Soho, not out on the front lines, in the trenches of the war to end all wars. To Young, he replied, "My business with him is none of yours. Now, where's he at?"

Sergeant Young looked worried, still, but shrugged and didn't question him further, turning to lead Crowley down the trenches toward an angel who was in a Heaven of a lot of trouble.

--------------

By the time they reached the trenches occupied by the 1st Battalion of the Royal Warwickshire Regiment, night was falling hard, and the dark sky was littered with bright pinpoints of stars. Crowley tipped his head back to gaze up at them, letting their distant light bathe a part of himself he rarely acknowledged. He always liked looking up at the stars. They were reminders that he hadn't always felt chained to a bottomless pit.

"Hello, my lovelies," he whispered to them, now, and swore he could still hear their twinkling song, even though he knew that was just a whisper of memory. God hadn't let him hear his stars since he fell.

"What's that, sir?" Sergeant Young inquired, breaking his communion with the stars.

Crowley shook himself and turned his attention back to the human who stood there, now looking thoroughly confused.

"Nothing," he hissed. "Now, where's he at?"

"Doc Fell's CCS is over there." Young pointed toward a tent set back a little way from the main trenches.

"Right." Crowley started toward the Casualty Clearing Station set up in a canvas tent hidden behind woodland shrubs, then realized Young was keeping step with him. Oh, right. "You're dismissed, Sergeant."

The man fell back with a relieved expression and headed back the way they'd come originally. He seemed a decent enough human. Crowley briefly wished him well in surviving the war. Himself, he had an angel to rescue.

Ducking into the tent, the first thing Crowley was hit with was the noxious odor of death, blood, and disease. Satan preserve him, it was like being in the plague-ridden streets of London during the 14th Century, all over again. Crowley grimaced. He really didn't like the 14th Century, or any reminders of it. In fact, he wished heartily that he'd chosen to sleep through it.

"Oh, be a dear and put him over there. I'm afraid my hands are rather full at the moment." The familiar voice reached Crowley even above the other din of the sick and dying, and those attending to them. He'd pick up that voice anywhere, no matter the noise around it, and he wasn't about to start considering what that meant.

Clamping a hand across his mouth and nose against the putrid smell of the place, Crowley made his way down the row of stretchers, until he caught sight of a curly shock of white-blond hair.

"Here you are. Do you know, I've been looking all over the Western Front for you?"

Aziraphale looked up from the human on the stretcher, his cerulean eyes full of surprise. His hand remained clamped against the shoulder of the man, holding a folded wad of bandage against what must be a pretty severe wound, given how fast that bandage was turning red.

"Crowley! I haven't seen you in forever. What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Aren't you supposed to be minding your bookshop?" Irritation and concern twisted together in Crowley's chest and made their way into his voice.

"It's temporarily closed," Aziraphale explained, his attention back on his patient.

"Closed."

"Temporarily."

"While you..."

"Do what I can to stem the loss of life." He sounded sad, and tired. As if what he'd already seen of this war drained away some of his light.

No. No, angel. I won't let you do this to yourself. But what could he do, really? His angel was a healer. He couldn't turn away from someone in need any more than Crowley could contain his endless supply of questions. Besides, last time they saw each other, Aziraphale told him he never wanted to see him again. No doubt, he wasn't going to feel any more charitable once he found out why Crowley tracked him down, again.

"Angel..."

Aziraphale discarded the bloody cloth into a basin of already bloody water, and pressed another to the wound, then glanced toward a young man passing by. "Bring me sutures."

The man -- really, little more than a boy -- nodded and rushed away. Aziraphale turned back to the man now moaning in pain on the stretcher, his voice gentle and full of so much kindness as he murmured, "I know it hurts. I'm sorry. I'm going to try to fix it."

Crowley didn't ask why Aziraphale didn't just miracle the wound away. He already knew. They'd been through this. The night wee Moraig was killed by the grave gun, in Edinburgh. If Aziraphale went around miracling away the wounds of an entire war, not only would he no doubt overextend himself, but Heaven would certainly have something to say about it. Still, the gaunt hollows of his face... Crowley tried again, his voice softer with painful understanding.

"Aziraphale."

This time, the angel turned to look at him. The pain, and the brimming of tears in those beautiful, cerulean eyes, nearly broke Crowley. This was worse than when wee Moraig died. Worse than watching the Roman soldiers kill his only human friend for no reason than Jesus asked people to be kind to each other. The sight of tears -- frustration, grief, and pain -- swelling in Aziraphale's eyes sent a frothing hatred through Crowley for this entire fucking war.

A hatred he could do nothing about. He didn't have the power to stop an entire war any more than Aziraphale had the power to heal one. He opened his mouth -- to say what, he wasn't sure, but it didn't matter. Before he could say anything, the young stretcher-bearer was back with a suture kit, and Aziraphale had turned away, back to the business of saving a life.

"Crowley, please hold his legs down. This is going to hurt, but I don't have the time to numb it proper. He's already lost too much blood."

The demon didn't even think twice about complying with the instruction. Aziraphale had asked him for help, and if this was the only way he could help... He clamped his hands onto the wounded soldier's ankles and pressed them into the stretcher, watching as Aziraphale withdrew a needle from the pack, measured out suture, and began to painstakingly stitch the soldier's shoulder back together. The sound of the wounded man's screams as Aziraphale worked quickly to mend his shoulder would forever be imprinted in Crowley's mind as he and the stretcher-bearer kept the man from thrashing against the necessary cruelty of the angel's stitching.

Once the man's shoulder was stitched and the wound properly bandaged, Aziraphale nodded Crowley away from the whimpering man and stepped around the stretcher, with a murmured instruction to the stretcher-bearer, "Give him some morphine, and get him on the first cart to a base hospital. His war's over."

Crowley followed the angel as he headed for the other end of the tent, where he poured clean water into a basin and washed his hands thoroughly. The whole time, Crowley watched. He watched humans bleed all over the place, watched them writhe in agony, watched when one of the attending medical personnel shook their heads and covered yet another body. And the whole time, he watched Aziraphale, as well. Watched his soft, sweet angel look as if the weight of the entire world rested on his shoulders, as if he was an inch from breaking down, but determined to make a difference.

There wasn't even a shadow of the soft, hopeful angel who believed in magic, or the goodness of people, in the lines currently road-mapping pain and weariness across the angel's face.

"What did you say you were here for?" Aziraphale inquired, before flashing him a tired smile Crowley knew was meant to cover everything he already read on the angel's face. "It's lovely to see you again, by the way. I haven't seen you since..."

"Let's not talk about that, angel." Crowley looked away, his voice hoarse in spite of his effort to sound normal. He didn't want to think about their last meeting. It hadn't gone the way he'd thought. Instead of getting the holy water he'd wanted to have on hand if Hell came knocking, he'd only managed to alienate his angel. So he'd gone to sleep. For the entire rest of the century.

It seemed the most appropriate response to the situation, at the time. Now, he wasn't so sure. He should have been prepared for this, prepared to talk Aziraphale out of getting involved. But he hadn't been, and instead, not only had humanity dragged his angel into the middle of their attempts to destroy themselves, but Aziraphale had gone and put himself on Hell's radar in the process. He cleared his throat and tried to sound bored. "I got wind of a big problem, headed your way."

That tired smile turned wry. "They're all big problems, around here."

"Not this kind." Crowley glanced around, making sure no one was listening, and dropped his voice to a quiet hiss as he said, "The Hell kind. Hastur's looking for you."

"Me?" Aziraphale sounded baffled. "Why on earth would Hastur be looking for me?"

"You're mucking about with Hell's plans. Apparently, there's some big plan attached to this war, and you hanging about, healing people, has the Dark Council frothing at the mouth for your blood. I heard Hastur is supposed to eliminate you."

Aziraphale was quiet as he dried his hands. Looking down at his blood-spattered clothes, he suddenly murmured, "Their lives are so fragile, but they're so willing to give them up to keep others safe."

"Angel..."

"I'm tired of patching endless wounds. It's Christmas Eve, you know."

Crowley's brow furrowed. Something about Aziraphale's tone disquieted him. The angel wasn't even acknowledging the danger he faced. His eyes had that faraway glaze they got whenever he was concocting some incomprehensible while simultaneously dramatic plan to do good. "Yeah."

Aziraphale's attention turned his way, and Crowley wasn't sure if he was relieved to see the twinkle of light-hearted mischief back in those cerulean eyes, or worried as all fuck that his angel was about to do something terrifyingly dangerous to his own health. "Maybe there's something I can do to help them. Even if just for a bit."

"Angel, we don't have time for--"

But Aziraphale wasn't listening, already striding purposefully toward the medical tent's flap.

"Shit," Crowley muttered under his breath, taking off after his angel. He did not like the tone of Aziraphale's voice, or the determined set of his face.

Out behind the medical tent, Crowley stopped dead, a terrified chill washing over him as he watched Aziraphale's forehead begin to glow.

"Angel, no." He tried to scream it, but his horror wouldn't let his voice climb above a disbelieving whisper. "You can't."

"Nonsense." Aziraphale's voice was strained, but his expression was resolved, as he slowly slid the brightly glowing corporeal representation of his halo from his head, wincing in pain as he did. Crowley turned his gaze away, both because the gleam of the halo was like being stabbed in the eyes -- even with his shades on -- and because the pain on Aziraphale's face made him want to beg him to stop, and he knew the angel wouldn't.

Glancing Aziraphale's way again, he saw the angel mouth words over the halo, then release it with a light toss into the air, letting it float upward through the night sky until it bathed the entirety of No Man's Land in soft, angelic light -- twinkling like a bright star.

"Aziraphale," Crowley choked out, fear lodged in his throat. "What the Heaven do you think you're doing?"

A peaceful smile slid over Aziraphale's face, and his blue eyes gleamed like the stars as they turned his way. "Wait and see."

Wait and see? He already bloody knew what Aziraphale just did -- they both did. An angel blowing up their halo was tantamount to a declaration of war against Hell. Mostly because angels only blew up a corporeal manifestation of their halos in the presence of overwhelming demonic odds. But still...

"Angel, have you lost whatever--" Before Crowley could finish the thought, the corporeal manifestation of Aziraphale's halo burned out and crumbled from the sky in what looked like a shower of twinkling starlight. Then, out of the dark hush that fell in its wake, came a deep voice, singing in German. Silent Night. A bloody Christmas carol. On the battlefield.

Soon, other voices joined it. Then, with a start, Crowley realized one of the voices was singing in English. The singing was now coming from their side of the field, as well. Really close, too.

"What the Heaven...?"

"Exactly," Aziraphale murmured from next to him. "A gift. From Heaven."

In less time than it took to start the whole fucking war, men on both sides were singing. Then they started calling out to one another, across the span of No Man's Land. As Crowley watched in stunned amazement, men began climbing out of their trenches on both sides, crossing to meet in the middle of the barbed-wire laden No Man's Land, shaking hands and talking, laughing. Pretty soon, they were improvising gifts out of whatever they had on hand, and someone had organized an impromptu soccer game in a clear patch of ground.

Crowley whirled toward Aziraphale, unable to contain the shock running rampant through him any longer. "I thought... How did you do that?"

Aziraphale merely smiled. "There's more than one way to blow up a halo, dear boy. In the presence of demons, it's an act of war. But with a little grace, we can all rise above what blinds us. Merry Christmas, Crowley."

Crowley's shock melted away, and he threw his head back and laughed. Why the Heaven was he even surprised? This was Aziraphale. There wasn't a being in all of existence capable of more grace, or more love for humanity, than his angel.

******

A.Z. Fell and Co Bookshop, Soho, London -- 1941

Crowley studied the wine sloshing in his glass as he swirled it around. It was a good year, but he couldn't get the color -- like blood -- out of his mind, tonight. Nearly losing Aziraphale twice, after realizing just how much and why that was an unacceptable risk, had him contemplative. Knowing his angel risked exposure to help the likes of him tonight sent a softness through him he wasn't sure how to deal with. Combined with the wine in his glass reminding him of blood, he couldn't help thinking about the war out there, around them. That brought to mind the last war -- "The war to end all wars" they'd called it. Yet, far too soon, the humans found a new and terrible way to kill one another.

"Can you believe we're back here, again?" He muttered to Aziraphale, not looking up from his wine.

The angel made a small sound of confusion. "We always drink here. It's safer."

"Not the bookshop," Crowley hissed, shaking his head before taking a drink. The alcohol did its familiar burn. He barely felt it, anymore. "War. You'd think they got all that killing out of their system, last time. Instead, they just keep finding newer, more effective ways to kill each other."

"Crowley..."

He glanced up, letting his gaze burrow into the beautiful blue eyes of his angel. They were so calm, so happy, now. But he could still remember a time they'd been filled with tears, teetering on the brink of destruction. He took another, larger drink, trying to burn away the memory. It wouldn't go. Finally, he rasped, "Remember Christmas, 1914?"

Aziraphale's smile faltered for just a second. "The Christmas Truce. Yes."

"You blew up your halo for that. Risky, angel. That's what it was." He'd nearly discorporated on the spot when he realized what Aziraphale intended. Of course, he'd thought the angel was blowing up No Man's Land, maybe to prove a point to the humans that they were a bunch of idiots for running around doing their best to off each other, or just generally declaring war on Hell. He hadn't known a halo could be used to create peace, too.

Crowley shuddered at the familiar taste of fear, and chided, "You could have set off a war between Heaven and Hell, you know."

Aziraphale smiled indulgently at him. "Don't be silly. I knew exactly what I was doing. Besides, you were the only demon there, and you weren't going to tell anyone."

Crowley chuckled in truth, warmth flowing through him in a heady rush at the absolute trust in his angel's voice. The humans didn't have it half right.

Some things really were worth dying for.

******

A.Z. Fell and Co Bookshop, Soho, London -- December After Thwarting Second Coming

Aziraphale hummed a Christmas carol to himself as he finished winding a long strand of tinsel and tiny colored lights down the banister and attached it carefully to the wrought iron with a little tap of his fingertips against the decoration.

He loved Christmas. Not just that it represented Jesus' first arrival on Earth all those centuries ago, but the peace and goodwill it fostered in humans. The bright colors, the beautiful carols, so full of hope and happiness, and joy. The decorations, and togetherness.

He drew in a deep breath and his smile widened. And the food. He loved the food, of course. Right now, the whole shop smelled of the mulled cider, hot chocolate, and freshly baked cookies he'd made for the party he'd planned. Now, he just needed to get the invitations out...

"For Satan's sake," groaned a familiar voice from behind him. "Angel, you promised..."

Aziraphale turned, casting a gleeful, loving glance at the demon who stood paused with his hand hanging in midair over the horse sculpture on the front counter, dark glasses held loosely in his long fingers as he stared in a blend of horror and disbelieving amusement at the ten-foot tall tree, studded with a mish-mash of ornaments Aziraphale had collected over the past two hundred years since Christmas trees became a thing people did.

"It's tradition!"

"So's riding a blessed camel across the desert to give a baby useless shit he won't ever actually get to use., but you don't see me rushing out to rent camels, do you?"

Aziraphale huffed out a sigh that was one part annoyance and three parts pure indulgence. He couldn't stay mad at Crowley when he was like this. His lovely demon still struggled with the concept it was okay to just enjoy holidays. He didn't take it personally. He knew Crowley preferred to pretend he was annoyed by or bored with everything, instead. Aziraphale saw the little sparkles of happiness in Crowley's eyes -- as blinding as starlight -- and knew his demon got far more enjoyment out of pretending to dislike things while indulging Aziraphale's utter abandonment to the joy of every human experience.

"Here." He retrieved the box of invitations he'd spent yesterday evening writing up from the desk and dropped them in Crowley's hands. "If you're going to carp, make yourself useful and deliver these. Then you don't have to look at the decorations."

"Better idea." Crowley dropped the box casually on the table beside himself and, before Aziraphale could protest the misuse of stationary, Crowley had him wrapped up in long, strong arms, his mouth making soft, heated passes over Aziraphale's, sinking deeper with each pass. Aziraphale wasn't about to deny him. He leaned into the kiss, one hand clutching the demon's side, the other winding around his neck to burrow in silky strands of collar-length red hair.

Aziraphale lost all track of time, lost awareness of everything except Crowley, until a voice somewhere in the background finally drew his attention. Easing from the kiss, he caught the smug smirk on Crowley's lips and the devilish gleam in his eyes. Flushing happily, he turned his attention to their visitor, and was immediately flustered by the sight of the angel standing there.

"Oh. M-Muriel. What brings you here?" He fought the old, ingrained urge to flinch away from Crowley's touch in the presence of another angel as the demon practically draped himself over Aziraphale's shoulders in what had become a familiar arrangement over the months since they reunited -- one of Crowley's arms draped over one of his shoulders, and Crowley's head resting on his other shoulder. Currently, the latter involved Crowley nuzzling at his neck and jaw.

Muriel, for their part, seemed utterly oblivious to the display, beaming at the two of them before hurrying toward the tree, practically squealing over each of the ornaments. "Oh, they're amazing! You have so many! I didn't expect this many!"

"Told you, he's been collecting them for centuries." Crowley left off his teasing nuzzles to call after Muriel.

Aziraphale watched them in consternation for a moment, then whispered to Crowley, "How does Muriel know I put up the tree today?"

Crowley shrugged and sighed as he straightened. "I told them, angel."

"How?"

"Not now. Months ago -- while you were gone."

Aziraphale flinched at the reminder, biting down on the instinct to apologize again. He'd apologized so often, now, and Crowley long since told him to stop apologizing, that they were good, and he didn't need to feel guilty. Still, he couldn't help the soft, dismayed sound that left him.

"Angel, don't," Crowley murmured, nipping his ear and nuzzling the side of his head. "It's just an explanation, okay? Muriel called me one time. They were reading something and didn't know what Christmas was. I told them I was the wrong person to ask, but that you always decorate the shop around this time every year." Crowley sighed, then. "Sorry. I forgot all about it, 'til now."

Aziraphale smiled softly, reaching out to smooth his hand over Crowley's chest in a light caress. "No apology necessary, love. You did just the right thing. Like always."

With that reassurance, he moved toward where Muriel stood, holding a small ornament that looked like a cobbled-together boat, made out of an unused bullet. Their expression was perplexed as they looked up at Aziraphale. "I don't understand what this is supposed to be, Mr. Fell. What is it?"

Aziraphale took the small ornament from Muriel's hand and felt a sad smile tug at his lips. "This was a very special gift, from a time when war ravaged the world, but for one Christmas Eve night, there was peace and brotherhood among men..."

He heard the front door open and close, and knew Crowley was off to deliver the holiday invitations. Aziraphale's smile widened as he recounted the events of that night over a hundred years ago, when an angel and a demon brought peace to an embattled humanity, if only for a little while.

It was, after all, his favorite Christmas story of all, if for no other reason than it was one of a very few he got to spend with his beloved demon. He was looking forward to many, many more.

THE END

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