#so i guess ive just done a me and forgotten to cross post any art on here LMAO

[astyr-art]

i think i forgot to mention on tumblr but back in february i bought the xp pen magic drawing pad! ive been using it a TON, but this is the first artwork ive actually finished on it. only took me a couple months LMAO. to be fair i basically never do a fully lined and shaded background, AND this was a cityscape. a super basic one, but a cityscape nonetheless. and my god, this turned out so fucking good guys. like holy shit. one of, if not the, best things ive drawn to date. idk what it is abt sonnie, man, he makes me pull out the big guns. only the best for my babie. fav oc privileges fr

two versions; first is how i finished it on the drawing pad, and the shading on sonnie looks perfectly fine on THAT screen, but too blue on the laptop, so the second version has a slightly altered colour to look better on my laptops screen. ah, colour displays, the digital artists arch nemesis

(and also ive redesigned sonnies horns. i liked the look of the old ones, but this just makes more sense. he do be rammin' shit. and now ive gotta update his ref sheet too rip)

[padfootagain]

Will You Still Be Here In The Morning? (IV)

Part 4 : The World That Ended

 Okay, here we go, part 4, one left to post, still this extremely long fic of mine, don't panic.

Still a bit of angst, it's getting better though.

I hope you like it, tell me what you think of it :)

Gif not mine

Word Count : 4298

You go too fast for me, Crowley.

The demon was driving aimlessly through the streets of London. The night was pitch black, and another kind of shadow growing inside him seemed to cover the light of the lampposts too. He was crying.

Too fast… too fast?! After six millennia? He had given the angel a lift home before, it was nothing so special, he just…

He just wanted to spend some time with Aziraphale. Every waken minute, if he could, or even every minute no matter if he was lost to dreams or awake, but… even a demon could have dreams, right? He wasn't asking for so much though. Just… a ride to the bookshop. Maybe Aziraphale would have invited him inside, and they would have drunk one of the angel's best bottles of red wine, and talked about the years they had been apart and…

Heaven and Hell and invisible barriers that kept them apart. He knew all about those. He knew how Aziraphale kept the boundary up. Maybe it was for the best, Crowley had to believe it was, at least.

Maybe one day we could… go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz…

Did it mean that Aziraphale wanted that too? Wanted… more than the arrangement, but he was just too scared and too…

Crowley already hated Heaven but now, his wrath reached whole new heights.

You go too fast for me, Crowley.

The demon's expression relaxed as it saddened. The anger, the confusion wore out, fading to let resilience course through his veins instead. He had waited six thousand years, he would wait six thousand more if needed. He would accept whatever Aziraphale was ready to give him, even if it was only friendship forever. It would already be more than enough.

He didn't even realize his Bentley was slowing down as he drove through London's sleepy streets.

He hadn't felt like he was pushing the angel forward. He hadn't felt like his invitation to drive him wherever he wanted to go was too much. But if Aziraphale had felt this way, then, he guessed he ought to slow down all the same. He had to be more careful.

Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz…

Oh… if only they could…

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

 "So, this is what you've been up to for these past few weeks!"

Crowley was grinning, so proud of himself as cars kept on honking and angry drivers exchanged sweet names through the motionless traffic. They walked across Trafalgar Square and towards the National Gallery as Aziraphale was finishing his cheesecake.

Turning off all the traffic lights in London had asked weeks of preparation, but it was worth the hard work. Crowley could feel the anger oozing from every single driver and pedestrian in the city. He was a genius…

"Well, maybe the antichrist is planning the apocalypse right now, but nevertheless, I am still a demon, and I had to do some mischief, angel."

"Of course," Aziraphale replied, a little annoyed. "Still… Crowley, look at the chaos around here!"

"That was the point, angel. That was the whole point. Can't you feel how angry they are?"

"Yes, dear. I can."

"This planned worked so well!"

"Except that you lost an hour stuck in the Bentley, and we had to walk here, as you had forgotten it was set for today…"

Crowley merely glared at the angel by his side in response, who was wearing his smug face again. The bastard…

Aziraphale threw away the empty box of his cheesecake before they walked inside the museum. They wondered for a while through the gallery, in silence for the most part, until they reached the impressionists section.

Aziraphale had always thought it very strange that his and Crowley's favourite Monet had been put right next to each other, and that a bench had been added to the room right when the two paintings had been exposed there. He couldn't tell Crowley that he was suspecting one of his complicated schemes, of course. Nevertheless, he liked to believe it was Crowley's fault that the Water-lilies, setting sun and The water-lily pond had found themselves side by side, with a bench perfectly placed to admire both of the paintings.

If he had asked, Crowley would have fiercely blushed, and denied it all, and he would have been a terrible liar.

Aziraphale heaved a content sigh as he sat down on the bench that had miraculously been freed a couple of seconds before. The little crowd that had been watching the paintings dissolved, and the angel and the demon could admire Monet's game of colours in peace, between the vivid greens of the pond and the deep reds and purples of the sunset.

"Anything new on your side then?" Aziraphale asked, glancing over at Crowley on his right.

"Nothing so far. You?"

"Not a word."

"Warlock is doing okay."

"Yes, I know. He got an A at his maths test, although he got a C+ in literature…"

"Everyone can't be as passionate as you are about books, angel."

"I guess not… still… a C, Crowley!"

"Have you heard of that Kevin again?"

"No, nothing. I surely hope not, the little tyrant…"

"Good."

"You've never told me how you 'handled' the situation though."

"It's been dealt with."

"Crowley… what have you done?"

The demon rolled his eyes at the angel's worried tone.

"Nothing harmful, of course. Who do you think I am, angel? I wouldn't hurt a child!"

"I know, dear, that's not what I meant," Aziraphale defended himself. "Although, you can be… intimidating, sometimes."

"Intimidating? Really?"

"Yes. You are a demon, after all. Your little game with the traffic lights today proves it."

"I merely talked to the child, that's all. And threatened to kill his dog if he ever bullied Warlock again."

"Crowley!"

"I'm kidding! I just talked to him. Relax, angel."

They remained silent for a moment, Aziraphale wiggling a little next to Crowley in that swift, discontented movement that showed he was annoyed. It made the demon smile.

The visitors who walked in the room didn't seem willing to disturb the two men who were observing the two Monet paintings at the centre of the room. None of them dared to walk between the bench and the artworks. Many who looked at the two men though wondered who they were to each other, and found them a little strange. The one before the pond all dressed in pastel colours and an old-looking white coat, his hair impossibly white. And sitting right next to him, before the sunset, a tall silhouette wrapped in black except for his red collar, hair of a vibrant red, long strands held back out of his face but still cascading to brush his shoulders. He was wearing dark sunglasses, which was without a doubt the strangest accessory to wear in an art gallery. They sat close to each other, and yet a few inches apart. Many wondered if they would finally reach out and hold hands…

"His dad is away again," Crowley spoke after a while.

"I know," Aziraphale heaved a sigh. "He's feeling lonelier again."

"We could drop by. You know… as Brother Francis and Nanny Astoreth again. Still have the outfit."

"I am not so sure that it would be good for him."

"I think it would. He liked us."

"When he was four."

"He's eight. He's still little. And he's… lonely. It's a terrible feeling, loneliness."

Aziraphale struggled to keep a neutral expression.

"I know," he nodded. "There's nothing we can do though, Crowley. We should stay out of the way now. We've done our best."

"We could be doing more."

"And what could that be? We've tried to educate the child in both good and evil. Now, whether he leans towards the light or the dark depends on him, and him alone. We can only keep an eye on him now, and make sure he's fine."

Crowley slowly nodded. There was nothing else to discuss concerning the antichrist, heaven, hell, God and Satan. Instead, the demon hoped to drive the conversation towards another topic, any topic, really, as long as it meant staying there, in front of the paintings, with Aziraphale.

"I heard they were opening a new bakery down your street," he told Aziraphale, guessing that talking about food was always a fine way to keep the conversation going.

"Yes! I can't wait for it to open, to be honest! Apparently, they will have a lot of French pastries! And now, although I agree that there is a lot you can say about the French, anyone has to admit that their pastries are scrumptious."

"Indeed."

"Are you still struggling with this orchid of yours?"

"No, tamed the thing in the end. It's beautiful."

"Crowley, really, the poor plants…"

"I destroyed one of the plants who had a spot on a leaf a couple of days ago, taught them all a lesson."

Aziraphale gave him a tender smile.

"Now, where did you really put that plant, dear?"

Crowley mumbled under his breath, before answering.

"I planted it in Regent's Park."

Aziraphale couldn't stifle a laugh.

"Shut up!" Crowley protested.

"You really are incredible, sometimes, dear."

Crowley wanted to reply with a snarky remark, a clever answer, he wanted to be witty. But all he could do was to try to stop the blush from rising to his cheeks and slow down his heart.

He was very well aware of how close to his Aziraphale's fingers rested on the wooden bench. Just a few millimetres away. It felt like six thousand years though…

And Aziraphale was perfectly aware that a tiny movement towards the demon would have closed the distance between their fingers, he knew it was nothing, just a few millimetres. And yet, it was a distance impossible to cross.

Their fingers thus remained there, resting on the bench, so close, within reach, and yet apart.

"Angel?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I really like these paintings, don't you?"

The angel's throat tightened, and he held back the tears that suddenly formed in his eyes. He recognized the hidden meaning in these words. They truly meant stay, please, stay a little longer.

"Yes… Yes, I like them quite a lot as well," he answered with a nod, his voice a little deeper than usual, a little unsteady too.

Crowley smiled. The words sounded like something more, they sounded like a Yes, I will stay, for now.

And for now, it had to be enough.

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

 The world was still there. Fragile, flawed, and yet still there. Still beautiful in its own imperfect way. Still full of hope despite being stained with despair. Still loving despite all the hate spreading through its cracks.

The world had not ended, after all. It was still there, spinning around the sun at 1,037 miles per hour. Atlantis was gone, and the bookshop was back, and the Bentley was all but burnt. Aziraphale and Crowley didn't know all that yet though. All they knew was that the Earth was still there, spinning, getting hotter and hotter by the second, coughing in carbon dioxide and other pollutants, filled with leaves stretching towards the moon and fireflies buzzing through stony lanes and buildings.

They had taken a bus out of Tadfield and back to London. For now, they thought the bookshop, just like the Bentley, were gone. And maybe they still were for now, maybe Adam would need the night to put things back the way they were before Armageddon.

They were in Crowley's apartment, the only safe place left. None of them doubted that Heaven and Hell would come for them in the morning. Moreover, Agnes's prophecy was adamant in stating that they were not out of trouble yet. They didn't doubt that they had until dawn though.

Crowley had forgotten about the pool of water and blood and fused bones that Ligur had become when he fell into Crowley's trap, and both he and Aziraphale froze at the sight.

"Ha, yes… that's…"

"Is it Ligur?" Aziraphale asked with disgust painted all over his features.

"What's left of him," Crowley nodded. "Hang on, I must have a mop somewhere…"

"Don't be ridiculous! Stay here!" the angel stopped him as Crowley was taking a step towards the putrid pool. "Who knows if the holy water could still be effective! Stay here, I'll do it."

"It's okay, angel."

"Crowley!"

"Alright, alright…"

Aziraphale only had to miracle Ligur's remains away, and it was all safe for Crowley to walk into his office again.

"Thank you, angel."

"You're welcome. Where is that book then?"

"In my bedroom, on the left."

They walked through the flat, Aziraphale grinning at the sight of Crowley's plants, to the demon's bedroom.

Just like the rest of the flat, it was simple and decorated with taste, although Aziraphale found it a little bare. Crowley reached for a book hidden under his bedside table and sat down on his bed, soon joined by Aziraphale.

"So, the prediction talked about choosing faces… You're sure?" Crowley asked, but the angel nodded with confidence.

"I remember something about that… in here…"

"I didn't know you were interested in old magic."

"Rituals and runes can come in handy once in a while."

Aziraphale hummed in agreement while Crowley frantically turned the pages of the book, a little too frantically to the angel's taste, actually. The poor book…

"Ha! Here! Knew it!"

He showed Aziraphale the page of the ritual he had remembered… that would allow them to exchange their faces.

"So… we could use it for me to look like you and you to look like me, right?" Aziraphale asked, quickly studying the ritual.

"I think so, yes. Do you think it's what Agnes meant?"

"Quite literally, yes. Then, I could get down to Hell, and you can take my place in Heaven."

But Crowley snatched the book out of Aziraphale's hands, shaking his head.

"We can't do that, angel. There must be another way, it's too dangerous."

"There's no other way, Crowley. They will come for us. We can't hide forever."

"Why not?"

"Don't talk about Alpha Centauri again."

"We could run away, Aziraphale."

But the angel shook his head, although his expression both saddened and softened, a touch of melancholy colouring his eyes.

"We can't run away forever, Crowley. I can't…"

"It's too dangerous!"

"No. No, it's time… it's time to get free of them."

Crowley's mouth slightly opened, agape, as he stared at Aziraphale with both confusion and hope oozing from his entire frame.

"Can you… can you take off your glasses, please?" the angel asked out of the blue.

"Why?"

"Because this conversation is important, and I want to be looking at you while we're having it."

Crowley swallowed, but obeyed, taking off his glasses and putting them down onto his bedside table, before turning towards Aziraphale again.

Crowley always felt naked without his sunglasses, fragile, it was like taking off his entire armour and revealing his very soul. But it was Aziraphale looking back at him, and if there was one person in the entire universe Crowley believed in, without any doubt, without any hesitation, it was him. If there was anyone the demon would trust his soul and heart with, it was Aziraphale.

"Crowley I… I know we've… I have always been cautious and I know sometimes I've made sure to… keep you at arm's length. I just… I'm just so scared of what Hell could do to you. It could have been you, Crowley, that disgusting soup on your floor! It could have been you instead of Ligur!"

"But it wasn't."

"It could have been. And now, they know, Crowley. They know about us, they know what we are to each other, and nor Heaven nor Hell is going to stop until they have found us and punished us for what we've done about Armageddon, but also for what we mean to each other."

Crowley narrowed his eyes a little, before blowing through his nose an annoyed breath.

"And what could that be? Fraternizing still?"

"Oh, you can't be serious, right now!" Aziraphale shot back with a glare. "Are you really bringing Saint James's Park back?"

"I don't know. You were fraternizing with me then. Like we were mere acquaintances!"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"I don't know it, angel! Unlike you, I don't have a super power allowing me to detect what people feel, okay? I don't work like that. I can't know if you don't tell me!"

"You're my best friend, Crowley!"

The demon froze.

"For God's sake!" Aziraphale went on with anger. "Of course, you are, you are my only friend, you have been since… since forever, really. Don't tell me it's not…"

His voice died out.

"Anyway," he calmed down, looking away from Crowley's neutral expression. "We are on our own side now, as you said. And we need to break free from them. Both Heaven and Hell. It's our only way to get out of it alive and free, it's now or never, Crowley. And I… I trust you. More than anyone, more than myself. I know you will come back. I am… terrified at the idea of sending you up there, but it's the only way we'll both get out of this alive. We need to trust each other on this. And I do trust you, with my life, but most importantly, with yours. And you need to trust me too."

Aziraphale was looking down at his feet, conscious of Crowley's stare set upon him, but unable to hold it.

They remained wrapped in silence for a moment, while Crowley's eyes drifted from the angel's face to the side of his arm, and finally, to his hand resting on the mattress. Perfectly manicured, as always, his golden ring wrapped around his pinky finger, as always.

He had longed to reach out and take his hand for six thousand years. The only temptation he had thought he would never been able to bend to.

But then, Aziraphale had taken his hand in the bus from Tadfield. Maybe it was simply the shock of it all. Maybe he simply needed support from a friend. Or maybe…

Maybe it was a step towards more than they had ever had. A step towards more than maybe, perhaps, one day, almost…

He took a deep breath, and dived, reaching across the mattress to close the space between their fingers, merely a few inches, but these inches were much more than inches right now. They were six thousand years of reaching but never touching, and thousands questions unasked out of fear, of banned affection and forbidden friendship, and fear, oh, so much fear for such a long time. And through all that, it was also all these times where they had reached and almost touched, almost given up, almost thrown cautious to the wind and leaned into their feelings.

It was an impossibly great distance to cross, a distance he had not crossed in six thousand years, but he was crossing it now.

Aziraphale's skin was soft, warm, reassuring, the most reassuring sensation he had ever experienced. Suddenly, he didn't feel alone anymore. He felt like he belonged, right there, by Aziraphale's side, holding his hand. Yes, yes… in this great ineffable plan, that was exactly where Crowley was meant to be: holding Aziraphale's hand.

The angel intertwined their fingers together and finally looked up at Crowley, who greeted him with a tender smile.

"I do trust you, angel. More than I trust myself. I'm just… I'm just scared something could go sour, and I wouldn't be able to reach you on time…"

"It's the only way, Crowley. And I… we need to break free now."

The demon slowly nodded.

"I think you're right."

"It's the only way."

"I know."

"We should try it. See if it works."

"But before we do it, you have to promise me something, Aziraphale."

"What is it?"

Crowley's eyes became more intense, with a touch of desperation too, and the angel couldn't fail to notice that the white that usually encircled his irises had disappeared, revealing their true appearance.

And God almighty, how beautiful his eyes were… Aziraphale had always loved them beyond measure…

"Promise me, this time, that you'll still be here in the morning."

Crowley's eyes drowned in tears he had been holding back for six thousand years, his heart swelled with feelings he had been refraining ever since that moment on the walls of Eden, and he was fragile and raw and beautiful as Aziraphale stared at him with all his layers of armours willingly stripped away from him. For so long now he had been asking that question, and for so long Aziraphale had never dared to answer.

But for now, Aziraphale couldn’t speak. Because he could recognize that feeling Crowley had been hiding for so long, he could see it so clearly in the tears running down his cheeks, in the glint in his amber eyes, in the tremor of his parted lips. And he wanted to tell him that he felt this way too… he wanted to tell him all these words he had longed to confess for years, but hadn't dared to, too afraid of being heard, of putting Crowley in danger. If only he could truly speak his mind, he would have wrapped his arms around Crowley and spoke words he had longed to let out ever since that night in the church in 1941, as the dust settled down and he was standing there in the ruins and flames with Crowley and he finally put words on the way he had been feeling for millennia.

I love you. I've always loved. It has taken me so long to finally realize it was true love, but it's been all along. It's always been you, it will always be. I love you, so passionately, so absolutely. I've never cared that you were a demon, I was just so afraid of what Hell could do to you if they knew how I felt for you. I should have run away with you when you asked me to. We could have gone to Alpha Centauri, and live in the stars you've built, and it would have been enough. But now, it's the opportunity to build a side of our own. Crowley, we could build a side where it wouldn't be wrong for me to love you, and for you to love me back. Darling, please, I love you. I would do anything for you. Please, please, stay into my life. I will be here in the morning, if you let me. Please, stay, stay… Crowley, please, stay. Stay forever.

He couldn’t say all that, not now… they weren't fully free yet, but… Heaven and Hell were not looking for them just yet. They would in the morning, dawn would bring their wrath. But for now, it was still night time. Now, the sky was still as dark as ink, still stained with shining lights, and fireflies still flew in ruins of a roman forum far away, and stars were so bright, and it was just the two of them, and no one was looking… And if Aziraphale couldn’t confess everything, he could make a promise.

Crowley was not expecting Aziraphale to wrap his arms around him, and yet he was fast at reciprocating the gesture. They held each other tightly, both of them trembling, both of them crying, both of them feeling safer than they had ever felt. And suddenly, Aziraphale didn't feel alone anymore. He felt like he belonged, right there, wrapped in Crowley's embrace. Yes, yes… in this great ineffable plan, that was exactly where Aziraphale was meant to be: in Crowley's arms.

When the angel finally answered, his voice was made hoarse by overwhelming emotions and tears he couldn't fight against.

"I will be here, Crowley. I promise. I will be here in the morning. I will. I will…"

Crowley's hands turned into fists, he buried his face in the crook of the angel's neck, holding on Aziraphale's coat as if his life depended it on it… because it did. He let out a shaky breath.

"You know… when I entered the bookshop, and you weren't there, I thought… I thought…"

"I know, Crowley. I'm sorry. I was discorporated, for my defence."

"I thought I would never see you again," Crowley went on, crying, the tears falling unrestrained like the first raindrops on Eden. "Angel, I can't… I can't lose you, I…"

"You won't. I won't lose you either. It won't happen, because we'll be prepared, and when they come for us, we'll show them that they have to let us go."

"I thought you were gone… I can't live through that again. I can't…"

"You won't have to. And I won't let any of them hurt you either. We'll be fine. Crowley, I promise. It could be over tomorrow, we could finally be free."

"And then? What will happen then?"

Aziraphale struggled to get the words out, but he did, his heart still in his chest and his lungs unable to let any air out, and yet he did speak.

"Then we can build our own side."

Crowley pulled away, staring at Aziraphale, staring at these blue eyes he dreamt of more often than not, searching for any trace of hesitation, of fear, but he found none. He only found determination. And it was all he needed to see.

He slowly nodded, before drying his face on his sleeve, standing and putting on his sunglasses again.

"Right. For the ritual, what do we need, angel?"

Aziraphale smiled, before turning to the book again.

It was now or never, it was their only chance, and they were determined to make it count.

**********************************

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