#/j i suppose...

[mrghostrat]

who am i to refuse a warmup crowley meme

[seraphont]

friendship chain

[tgw-azura]

“What? Your ENTIRE home dimensions? Destroyed? How? By what?”

Bill looked distant, more distant than I’d ever seen him.

“By a monster.”

“MY MUSE WAS A MONSTER”

[jomeimei421]

uh oh………………terrible news. I miss them 😭💀

[jubmato]

this is how vampire stone aus work in my mind

[ricesquid]

Shading test?

And two different versions. (╥﹏╥)

[phibsies]

love these guys

[puppppppppy]

Wyrm on a string

[flightlessbirdboy]

[numbuh424]

The unstoppable, mighty hurricane and the immovable, cold, hard truth.

[crocrubies]

would u go hang out with him at the abandoned chemical plant

[startr1m]

"jotaro would listen to heavy metal!" how does it feel to be wrong

[pouletpourri]

guys its alright they get married at the end guys its alright trust me on this one

[storkofyore]

Despite their tumultuous beginning, Elrond and Elros both knew that Maglor and Maedhros were not ones to be easily made angry. Annoyed? Sure. Irritated? Of course. But truly angry? It was a rare sight, even the twins knew.

But what Maglor knew was that ever since he had returned, Maedhros had been more ill tempered than was usual. His gentle, charming smile and kind, twinkling eyes were no longer what met the younger Feanorian when he gazed upon his elder brother’s face. What greeted him instead was a stoic,neutral expression, firm and austere in nature, with stern, cold eyes. Maglor trembled beneath them more than once, and shuddered at even the thought of them, only because of what he once knew. But despite his thinning patience and fraying psyche, Maedhros had never snapped at the twins beyond a mere chide or quick terror inducing glare when they were getting out of hand.

He had not once truly lost his temper with them.

Until that one night.

Maglor and the twins had been playing by the fire, and the twins had been getting rather rowdy as Maedhros made an attempt to ignore them and focus on his work. Anything to keep him from losing it. But then one of the twins accidentally knocked something fragile to the floor, and it shattered. Maglor made a quick move to clear the pieces so that the twins would not injure themselves, pinching their cheeks with a smile and a kindhearted “it’s alright, don’t fret yourselves over it. Neither of you are hurt and that is what is important. Do try to be careful next time.” And they were. But their voices grew louder. Elrond accidentally stepped on Elros’ foot, who in typical sibling fashion, pushed him with an angry comment. The moment they heard a loud bang from behind, and a booming voice, all of their blood ran cold as even Maglor turned in surprise.

“That is enough! From all of you!” Maedhros scolded, still working hand clutching a dagger in his fist that had been plunged into the table. Maglor gasped, before glaring back at his brother.

“That is mahogany!” He exclaimed.

“Would you rather it be you?! Or one of those.. those.. those vermin that you brought here?!” Maglor’s very heart trembled at his brother’s words, and the venom with which they were said, but he stood his ground and moved to shield the twins from his brother’s rage.

“Maedhros, you don’t mean that.” The darkness that shrouded Maedhros’ gaze said otherwise. Silently, the twins shuffled off and out of the room.

***

Terror. Unbridled terror. Maglor was asleep, of course he was asleep. Why wouldn’t he be asleep when he needed to be awake.

Maedhros shoved the thoughts into the back of his mind. He would deal with them later. He could feel his heart ramming against his ribcage in his ears as he frantically searched the keep for Elrond and Elros, turning over pillows and blankets, throwing open doors, checking in cabinets and below furniture. His heart dropped when he failed to find them. It was happening again. He frantically threw his cloak over his shoulders and grabbed his lantern. Against his better judgement, he grabbed his sword. The twins would be terrified of him if he found them, but if they were in danger he needed to be prepared. Without a glance back, he stepped out into the frigid night.

Frantically, in a panic and urgency he had not felt in millennia, he made his way through the thick of the winter, pushing branches, brambles and thickets out of his path as he called their names into the dark. He glanced in every direction, frantically, but there was no sign of the twins. Defeat cloaked around him like a blanket of stone, and he sank to the floor of the forest, his head in his hands as his breath seemed to be stolen in panic, the tears freezing instantly on his reddened cheeks. He had failed, again. He could hear the voices taunting him.

Somewhere, through the night, he heard a rustle. Looking up in a final attempt for hope, he stood to his feet and grabbed the lantern, following the sound with swift steps, tripping over a tree root in his haste.

The moment his eyes caught fearful eyes behind dark locks, powdered with snow, he felt his heart would stop beating. Slipping on the frozen earth, coated with a thin layer of ice, he threw down the lantern and his sword as he collapsed in front of the twins. They froze, and glanced back at him unblinkingly, as he stared with eyes overflowing with tears, hand gently resting against their cheeks. Before any of them had time to think, he was firmly pulling them to his chest in a tight hug, before throwing his cloak over them.

By the time they returned to the keep, Maglor greeted them at the door in a panic, scooping the twins into his arms like a mother hen as Maedhros refused to meet his gaze, standing afar off to the distance, wiping his cheek on his sleeve. Without a word, he pushed past Maglor and disappeared into the hall.

***

It was late, Elrond and Elros were getting tired, and they were still shivering from the cold. Silently, they sat at a table, yawning from time to time as Maedhros silently stood over a pot, stirring it and observing it with unbreakable focus. Without a word, he grabbed two bowls, scooping a hefty serving of soup into both before setting them in front of the twins.

“Eat. It will help to warm you.” He said, coolly. There was no anger in his voice, only heavy guilt and remorse that he hid rather poorly. The twins glanced at him, before watching as he walked off to another room for a moment. With a shrug, they ate. They knew it was an apology, and a way to make things right, as simple as it was. Elrond smiled faintly.

It was a hearty soup.

[hazardouspup]

i have yet to watch the new seasons but i like that they all live together now....

[hikarry]

So, I was rewatching season 1 and got stuck in that scene between Shadwell and Aziraphale in the bookshop.

What if Aziraphale never stepped into the circle? What if the fire never really happened?

Imagine:

Shadwell is lost in his shenanigans, ready to banish Aziraphale to whatever place witchfinders banish witches, and Aziraphale is slowly walking backward.

"Oh, but this is utterly ridiculous." He stops on his tracks, looking Shadwell in the eye. "I'm sorry, good man, but I have no time for whatever silliness is happening right now. If you don't mind, I have an Armageddon to stop." Aziraphale snaps his fingers, and Shadwell disappears, reapearing a few streets over at the other side of Soho. There surely he wouldn't get in the way.

Careful not to step on the active circle, Aziraphale leaves the bookshop and flags down the first cab he sees. The driver stops right in front of the bookshop, and he gets in, giving him Crowley's address in Mayfair.

The last time he called, the demon was home, so that's exactly where Aziraphale hoped he remained. With a bit of luck, he hadn't left for Alpha Centauri... Now that he thought about it, he mentioned having an old friend over? As far as he knew, he himself was the only friend Crowley had, so that statmebt now sounded like a load of nonsense. But whatever. He just needed to speak with Crowley, old friend present or not. Heaven clearly wanted the war to happen, and he had been naive to think they would see reason. The only chance the Earth had of surviving now was the angel and Crowley. He could only pray it wasn't too late and Crowley wasn't gone. He knew where the Anti-Christ was, after all. They could stop this!

When the cab stopped on the street of Crowley's building, Aziraphale paid his fare and threw a quick blessing in the driver's direction for his speed and efficiency before crossing the street and entering the complex.

He had been to Crowley's flat once or twice in the last 20 years. All he had to do was go through the entrance, get on the lift to the last floor, and walk down the corridor towards the last door. And that's exactly what he did, always fiddling with his fingers in a show of the nervous energy that seemed to take over him. They were running out of time. The end of the world would occur any minute now, and Crowley needed to be home. They still had to drive all the way to Tadfield's airbase, and the clock was tickling rather ominously inside his head.

Finally in front of the door to Crowley's flat, he knocked. A few seconds passed with no response, and he decided to knock again, stronger now, but he got exactly the same result.

Aziraphale looked around the hallway, taking a deep breath and smoothing his waistcoat, considering his options.

"Crowley?" He ended up knocking again. "Crowley, we need to talk!" Silence. "I know you're cross with me after our last conversation, but you were right. I talked to the Metatron. And they want the war. As I told you on the phone, I know where the antichrist is, and it would be very nice of you if you opened the door so we could get a wiggle on and stop the Apocalypse." Once again, he was met with silence.

Was it possible? Did Crowley actually leave for Alpha Centauri? He was here minutes ago! He couldn't have left already, right?

Oh, bless it all. He wasn't going to waste any more time.

With a final deep breath, Aziraphale snapped his fingers, and the door unlocked. He opened it slightly, peering inside.

"Crowley? I'm sorry If I'm intruding but this matter is rather urgent." All he got in return was silence. Not a single noise from the demon himself or the so called old friend.

He pushed the remainder of the door open and stepped inside, silently closing it behind him. He looked at the living room, but it was empty of any living soul, apart from the plants on the far wall.

"Crowley?"

Aziraphale called again, now walking towards the office to the left. The door was slightly ajar already, so he spied inside. It looked empty, but he walked in regardless, almost stepping on a pile of goo right there in front of the floor.

"What the...?" He looked down, stepping over the weird substance.

It smelled weirdly of sulfur and...was that Holy Water?

His head snapped to the desk, where he found the thermos he had given Crowley back in the 60s, the cap unscrewed by its side.

Suddenly, he felt his heart stop, and his veins turn into ice. His body gave an involuntary step back away from the smudge, his back hitting the throne as he lifted a now trembling hand to cover his mouth.

No. This couldn't be happening. He would-! Crowley certainly wouldnt-!

A sob escaped his throat as his whole body started shaking.

Oh lord. This was a nightmare. It could only be a nightmare. This wasn't real. Couldn't possibly be real.

Oh Crowley...

Aziraphale's legs failed him, and he ended up on the floor, back leaning against the side of the ridiculous throne Crowley liked so much. Not that he would like anything ever again because he was gone. Crowley was gone. And it was Aziraphale's fault. He was the one who gave him the cursed thermos against his better judgment. And now all his fears were laid bare right in front of his eyes.

Another sob escaped him and he let the heartache take charge, spilling warm tears down his cheeks.

Crowley was gone. The Apocalypse was coming and Crowley was gone. Not to Alpha Centauri but actually gone. Utterly destroyed. And all that remained of his best friend was an unidentifiable goo. Not a trace of Crowley remained.

He hugged himself, hanging his head low, letting the tears fall on his crossed arms and allowing the wretched sobs to take over. He couldn't bear to look at it a second longer. The smell of sulfur and Holy Water was starting to get nauseating.

Well, contrary to popular belief, Crowley was actually very much alive, speeding through the streets on London in the direction of the bookshop. He parked in his usual place and snapped his finger to open the doors of the building.

"Aziraphale?" He looked around, quickly spotting the active circle. Lifting an eyebrow above his sunglasses, he carefully walked towards it, still searching for any trace of the angel. "Aziraphale, are you here?"

The circle was still active with holy energy, so no one had actually stepped through it, and Aziraphale was clearly not in the bookshop, so where could he possibly be?

With a sigh, Crowley turned around and went back to the Bentley. He drove around Soho for a bit, trying to spot some blond curls in the crowd but falling short of success.

"Aziraphale, where the bloody hell are you?" He muttered to himself, carefully scanning the streets, until he gave up, changing his course back to Mayfair.

He needed to regroup. Without knowing where Aziraphale was and without the information on the antichrist he apparently had, Crowley needed to think.

He made his way back to his flat without paying much attention. When he noticed, he was already unlocking the door with his key and stepping inside. And, as soon as he did so, he heard it. Sobs coming from the office. That was...bizarre. Could it be Hastur? Had he figured out a way to leave the answering machine, and now he was crying over Ligur? Crowley almost laughed at himself with such a thought. Hastur? Crying? Now, that would be a sight he would pay to see.

Still, in the name of caution, he slowly made his way to the office, trying to be as silent as possible, when he quickly spotted the angel he had been looking for throught the wide open door, sitting on the floor besides the throne, arms around himself and face hidden while his whole body shook and heartbreaking sobs escaped his vocal chords.

Carefully and confused, he approached, stopping short of the door.

"...Angel?"

Aziraphale's head snapped up, staring at him with wide eyes, his face marked by tears.

"...Crowley?"

"Yeah." He slowly walked his way to the angel, careful not to step on Ligur, squatting in front of him. "Are you alright? What happened?"

He was still staring at him with clear confusing in his eyes, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly until he finally appeared to have found his voice again:

"You-! The-!" Aziraphale's body trembled, looking over Crowley's shoulder and then back at the demon. "You...you're gone!"

Crowley raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.

"I just went to the bookshop searching for you, but when I arrived you weren't there already." Aziraphale shook his head, some more tears escaping his eyes along with a single sob. "Hey, hey." Crowley placed his hands on his shoulders, squeezing them. "What's-?" And then that's when it suddenly clicked inside his head. He looked up at the empty thermos on his desk and back over his shoulder to what remained of Ligur. "Oh, Aziraphale. No, no, no." His hands moved up to Aziraphale's face, forcing him to look up at him, his thumb brushing away some of the new tears running down his face. It burned considerably; angel tears were holy water after all, but right now, that wasn't his focus. "That's Ligur. I used the holy water to make a trap for him and Hastur when they came to take me." He brushes his thumb through Aziraphale's trembling lips, leaning in closer. "That's not me, angel. I'm alright."

Aziraphale sniffed, trying to regain control of himself, but failing miserably.

"I-I thought you were dead. I thought you had used the Holy Water. I thought-"

"Shhh." Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel, leaning his face against his, pulling him into an embrace. They had never hugged before, so it felt a bit strange. Awkward even. "I'm right here. That's not me." The angel grabbed handfuls of his shirt and pulled him closer, burying his face on the crook of his neck, taking deep breaths. "Yeah, that's it. Breathe." He ran his hand through his curls, trying to soothe him. "Everything is alright. I'm right here."

After a while, Aziraphale finally calmed down and moved away, just enough to be able to look at Crowley's face. For a moment or two, they just stared at each other. Aziraphale's red rimmed blue eyes looking right at Crowley's yellow ones; his sunglasses had ended up on his head at some point. The angel's eyes slipped down to the demon's lips for a second and Crowley's licked them involuntarily, before his gaze went back to his eyes.

"You were right." Crowley tilted his head in confusion. "I talked to the Metraton. They want the war to happen...The Anti-Christ..." Aziraphale mumbled those last words.

"Right." Crowley stared down at Aziraphale for a couple more seconds before getting up, offering his hand to the angel to help him do the same. "You said you knew where he was?"