#And NEVER let Crowley live it down for the rest of their existence

[lillotte17]

So, at one point after the season 1 release there was a post floating around somewhere with this idea that Crowley wrote Aziraphale letters and hid them in various books in his shop. I don't know how plausible that idea is, but I thought it was extremely cute, regardless. So, I wrote one of the letters!

It's just been hanging out on my computer for ages because I didn't know what to do with it. It's not really a fic. And I never feel like I get his voice quite right. BUT I still like it, so here you go. <3

~~

A,

You know that I am not very good with words. Well. Generally speaking, anyway. I wouldn't be even halfway decent at my job if I couldn't sell a line or two, but it turns out that it is much easier to talk someone else into going for something that part of them already wants deep down than it is to admit things that we might want for ourselves. Funny, that. 

At any rate, my point is that I am not going to sit here and write you a sonnet or something. Wouldn't even know how to go about it, truth be told. But I know that you seem to enjoy words, especially written ones, since you've set yourself up to be surrounded by them almost constantly, so I thought that this might be easier for both of us.

It doesn't feel easier.  

I understand why you didn’t want to help me the other day, really, I do. But you didn't even give me a chance to explain why I asked, so I'm asking you to listen now. Well…you know, read. Can't really listen to a letter, can you? Not yet, anyway. Who knows what humans will think of next.

From the moment we met, you have always been…something different. Something I didn't expect. In mostly good ways, though I suppose you can't help that. I think I was just curious to start with. Wanted to see what would happen if I poked at you a bit. I didn't expect you to be so…well. You.

We came to an understanding, and I told myself it was just business. Business and lunches. Business and lunches and the odd night out on the town. For someone who lies as much as I do, you'd think I'd be better at lying to myself. Sometimes I wish I was.

I've had a sneaking suspicion that I might actually like you for a frankly embarrassing amount of time, but it had only occurred to me recently that I am... we might…

I don't want things to change.

It's precarious to leave things the way they are, I know that. The people I work for are not known for their forgiveness, and yours have been known for dealing out their fair share of wroth as well. But I used to think that if things went south, I could just talk my way out of it and then avoid you however long until things died down again. I'm an optimist, you know.

But I don't want to avoid you. And our dealings have stepped beyond the scope of plausible deniability at this point. And if they come for me over that… I'm not sure what will happen. Nothing good, though, I'm certain. Maybe they’d kill me, maybe they wouldn’t. Hard to say which would be worse, really.  But I thought, if you helped me, I could put together a sort of fail-safe. Just something to give us me enough time to come up with a plan of action. Find a place to hide. Run off somewhere.

You could come with me. If you wanted.

I know you wouldn’t want to go now, of course. It’d be too big a change. Breaking all sorts of rules. I wouldn’t mind, though. Never did mind too much about breaking rules, as you so often like to remind me.

It’s just… I think you might be the only being in this whole cosmos that I’ve actually managed to make happy. A few times, anyway. Maybe. At least, you seem happy. Most of the time. When we aren’t having a row.

It was a shocking revelation; I can tell you. To imagine that I’d be any sort of good for someone. And that I might even enjoy being 'good' for someone.  It’s sort of nice though. And terrifying. And frustrating. I wasn’t really sure I was capable of this sort of thing. At least, not anymore. Maybe I never was. Maybe that’s why I ended up working the sort of job I’ve got.

The world is full of so many soft words for soft emotions and soft people. Bright ephemeral things. I can’t say they don’t suit you, but they aren’t enough either. Well, maybe ‘enough’ isn’t the word for it. They just…don’t fit exactly right. And how could they? Man can hardly conceive of a word for something that he has little no understanding of. Bet you thought I’d say it was ineffable.  I am not a good messenger for that sort of expression, regardless. Bit outside my wheelhouse.  Just the sort of thing I’d cock up, really.

Look, I don’t really know where to go with any of this. I can’t even fathom a reason why things might change between us. Well, I can, but none of the changes would be good. I only know that, as of right now, you are my best and oldest friend. Perhaps my only friend. And maybe that’s a small thing to most people. But not to me. To me it’s everything.

You’re everything.

But I can see now just how easy it would be for all of it to go wrong. And maybe a smarter person would take that as a sign to cut ties and move on to better things. Keep things safe and simple. Black and white. And maybe you should. I’m selfish, though, which I’m sure you’ve worked out already. And well… 

It’d be an awfully lonely world without you. 

Yours.

[sandycookie]

fellas the book 7 update…. *crying*

(refer to the tags for my rambling, just to minimize ppl accidentally spoiling themselves)

[solxamber]

Hello, I love your writing! The isekai fics are so fun, Vil's was my favorite! Can I request the twst boys (+ staff if you have inspiration for it) comforting a reader who just breaks down in tears after the seventh overblot is resolved because they haven't had much support and time to process being in a new world away from everything they've ever known, were basically told to play therapist by Crowley, and have had their life and their friends lives at risk. Lots of angst but mostly comfort in the end! Thank you if you write this!

7th Overblot Aftermath

Characters: All NRC + Staff

hi! and thank you so much 🫶 vil was the first one I wrote I'm glad you liked it. I love this request and I hope you like it <3

The aftermath of Malleus’s overblot felt surreal. The sky had cleared, but the air was still heavy with the weight of what had just happened. It was over. Finally over. You had seen seven overblots now, each one pushing you and your friends to the edge, forcing you to confront darkness that shouldn’t have existed in people you had come to care for.

But this one had felt different. Maybe it was because of the sheer power Malleus wielded, or maybe it was because of how fragile the world around you had seemed as you fought to bring him back. You had nearly lost him—nearly lost everyone. And you were so, so tired.

Your knees gave out, hitting the ground with a soft thud. You stared at the grass beneath you, eyes blurring with unshed tears. Everyone was celebrating the victory, but all you could think about was the sheer exhaustion gnawing at your bones, the burden of playing mediator, therapist, and survivor all at once. You hadn’t signed up for this. You had been thrown into this world without warning, away from everything you had ever known, and you hadn’t had a moment to breathe since.

“I’m so tired…” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

And then it all came crashing down. The walls you had so carefully built around yourself crumbled, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face. Quiet at first, but then the sobs came harder, your shoulders shaking as you finally let yourself break.

You barely registered footsteps approaching until a pair of hands rested gently on your shoulders.

Ace Trappola

"Hey, hey," Ace’s voice broke the silence, softer than you’d ever heard it before. “What’s wrong? You’re... crying.”

You hiccuped, trying to suppress the sobs that wouldn’t stop coming. Ace was never one for emotional moments—at least, not the serious kind. He usually joked his way out of anything too heavy, but right now, he seemed out of his depth.

“C’mon, don’t cry,” he mumbled, his voice awkward but concerned. “We’ve been through worse, right? I mean, we beat Malleus of all people. If we can get through that, we can get through anything.”

He crouched beside you, his hand patting your shoulder in an attempt to be comforting, though he was clearly fumbling. “Just… talk to us, okay? We’re here. You don’t have to keep everything inside.”

You shook your head, not trusting your voice, but the tears kept coming. Ace sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly unsure of what else to say, but he stayed close, his presence enough to remind you that you weren’t alone.

Deuce Spade

Deuce knelt down beside you, his expression full of concern. His hand hovered over your back, unsure whether to touch you, as if he was afraid of making things worse. He eventually settled on patting your back gently, his voice unsteady but earnest.

“It’s okay,” Deuce whispered, his usual tough demeanor nowhere to be found. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re all here for you. I—I didn’t realize how much you’ve been going through.”

His face was a mix of worry and guilt, as if he felt bad for not noticing sooner. “You don’t have to do everything on your own anymore. You’ve been looking out for us this whole time, and I… I didn’t see how much that’s been hurting you.”

You couldn’t respond, your throat tight with emotion. Deuce, seeing your tears still falling, gently shifted closer, offering the only comfort he knew how: his presence. “We’re friends, right? And friends help each other. So… let us help you, okay?”

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle appeared beside you, his normally rigid posture softer now. He knelt down, placing a hand on your arm, his touch surprisingly tentative. He looked at you for a moment, eyes filled with unspoken regret before he spoke.

“I should have seen how much you’ve been carrying,” Riddle began, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “You’ve been through so much—more than any of us realized. I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”

His words were measured, careful, as if he was trying not to overwhelm you. “I’ve been so focused on maintaining order, on fixing things after my own mistakes, that I failed to recognize how much weight you’ve been holding on your own.”

He sighed softly, guilt clear in his voice. “You’ve been our support through everything, but you’ve had no one to lean on yourself. That’s not fair to you, and it’s not something you should have had to do alone.”

Riddle stayed close, his hand still resting on your arm, offering comfort in the only way he knew how—through quiet sincerity.

Trey Clover

Trey crouched down beside you, his presence calm and steady, like always. He didn’t say anything at first, just rested a hand gently on your shoulder, waiting for your sobs to slow. He wasn’t one for grand gestures or overly emotional words, but he didn’t need them. His quiet support spoke volumes.

“You’ve been doing a lot for everyone,” Trey said softly, his voice low and warm. “More than anyone should have to. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed.”

He offered you a tissue, waiting patiently as you wiped your face, though the tears kept coming. Trey’s hand stayed on your shoulder, a grounding weight.

“You don’t have to keep everything bottled up,” he continued, his tone gentle. “We’re all in this together, you know? If you need a break, if you need someone to listen… we’re here. I’m here.”

There was no judgment in his voice, no impatience, just the quiet assurance that he’d be there for you whenever you needed.

Cater Diamond

Cater slid down beside you, his usual carefree smile nowhere in sight. Instead, his eyes were soft with concern as he pulled out a tissue and handed it to you.

“Y’know, it’s okay to break down sometimes,” Cater said quietly, watching as you wiped your face. His voice was unusually subdued, and for once, there was no joking, no lightheartedness to deflect from the situation.

“We’ve all been through a lot,” he continued, “but I think you’ve been carrying more than the rest of us. Crowley’s been dumping all this stuff on you, expecting you to handle everything, but you shouldn’t have to. Not alone.”

Cater leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve been the glue holding us together. But who’s been holding you together, huh?”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to answer, but the tears just kept coming. Cater didn’t push. He just sat beside you, his presence steady, offering you the space to cry without judgment.

“It’s okay to let it out,” he said, his voice soft. “We’ve got you now.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona crouched down next to you, his green eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of your trembling form. He let out an exasperated sigh, as if annoyed by the situation—not by you, but by everything you’d been forced to endure.

“Ugh, this is exactly why I hate people like Crowley,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Always dumping stuff on others and never dealin’ with the mess themselves.”

He placed a heavy, warm hand on your back, his grip firm but comforting. “Listen, you ain’t weak for feelin’ like this. You’ve done more than enough, and I don’t blame you for breakin’ down. Hell, anyone else would’ve lost it way before you did.”

Leona’s tone softened slightly, his voice low and steady. “You’re tougher than most of the idiots I know. So, stop thinkin’ you gotta do everything yourself. Just rest already.” He grumbled something under his breath about humans overworking themselves, but stayed close by, a quiet, protective presence.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie hunkered down next to you, his usual cheeky grin replaced by something much softer. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head lightly. “Sheesh, you really let all that pile up on ya, huh?”

He gave you a light nudge with his elbow, playful but careful. “Look, you don’t gotta carry everything by yourself, ya know? I get it—you’re tough. But even tough people gotta take a break now and then, yeah?”

Ruggie’s eyes gleamed with empathy, his voice taking on a gentle, comforting tone you didn’t hear often from him. “Life’s been a little unfair to ya, huh? I mean, Crowley dumpin’ all that responsibility on you… it’s not right. But you’re here, and you’re still standin’, even after all that.”

He flashed you a small, reassuring smile. “But you don’t gotta stand alone. You’ve got us now. Lemme know if you need a break—I’ll hustle for the both of us.” Ruggie winked, his familiar mischievousness flickering back into his expression, but the concern in his eyes remained genuine.

Jack Howl

Jack’s ears twitched as he knelt down beside you, his tail swaying slowly with a sense of unease. He wasn’t great with words, but the sight of you breaking down hit him harder than he expected. “Hey,” he began softly, his voice gruff but sincere. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”

His hand hovered awkwardly for a second before settling firmly on your shoulder. Jack wasn’t sure how to help, but he wanted to—more than anything. “I know you’ve been strong… probably stronger than anyone should have to be. But it’s okay to let it out.”

He shifted slightly, trying to find the right words. “I… I know how it feels to be away from everything familiar. To feel like you don’t have anyone to lean on. But that’s not true. You’ve got me. You’ve got all of us.”

His grip on your shoulder tightened briefly, like he was silently reassuring you of his support. “You don’t have to face all of this alone. We’re here for you. And I’m not gonna let anything happen to you—or anyone else.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul approached you cautiously, his usual calm and collected demeanor faltering as he saw you crumbling under the weight of everything. His steps were slow, calculated, but there was an unusual tightness in his chest. He knelt down beside you, his expression torn between concern and his usual polished facade.

“You’ve… been carrying quite the burden, haven’t you?” he asked softly, though there was a certain edge to his voice, almost as if he was angry—at the world, at Crowley, at everything that had led to this moment.

His hand hovered over your shoulder for a moment before he rested it gently, almost hesitantly. “I won’t lie to you,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “I’ve always admired how capable you are. But no one should be expected to handle what you have. Crowley’s negligence… it’s unacceptable.”

Azul glanced away briefly, his sharp gaze softening. “But you’re not alone anymore. You have us. You have me. And I promise, I won’t let anyone take advantage of you again—not without consequence.”

There was a sincerity in his words that Azul rarely revealed, a vulnerability hidden beneath his usual polished exterior. “You don’t have to keep being strong on your own. Allow yourself to lean on someone else for once.”

Jade Leech

Jade knelt gracefully beside you, his usual serene smile gone, replaced with a look of quiet concern. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he was gauging how best to approach the situation. “My, you’ve been holding this all in for quite some time, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice as smooth as ever, but with an underlying warmth that was rare for him.

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, his fingers light but reassuring. “You’ve done more than anyone could ask of you. It’s no surprise that you feel overwhelmed.”

Jade’s gaze flickered over your trembling form, his mismatched eyes studying you carefully. “It’s a great deal of responsibility to bear, especially in a world so far from your own. But… you’re not alone.”

There was a softness in his tone that you didn’t expect, his usual composed demeanor shifting. “You’ve been strong for everyone else. Now, allow yourself to rest. Let us take care of things for a while. You’ve certainly earned it.”

He smiled gently, his hand still resting on your shoulder, steady and reliable. “And do not worry. Should anyone try to take advantage of your kindness again, they will have me to deal with.”

Floyd Leech

Floyd approached you in his typical loose, carefree stride, but when he saw the state you were in, his usual playful grin vanished. His steps quickened, and before you knew it, he was crouched down right in front of you, his mismatched eyes widening in genuine concern. “Whoa, hey, hey! What’s this?” he asked, tilting his head as he examined your tear-streaked face.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into a tight hug—so sudden and fierce that it left you breathless for a second. “You can’t cry like this, Shrimpy. It doesn’t suit you,” he said, his voice unusually soft, though still carrying that familiar teasing edge.

Floyd squeezed you tighter, his long arms wrapping around you like a lifeline. “If things are bad, you should’ve just told me. I’d go squeeze the life outta Crowley for you—he deserves it.” He chuckled, but his grip didn’t loosen, like he was afraid you might fall apart if he let go.

He leaned back slightly, still holding you close. “You don’t gotta be strong all the time, you know? You’re my friend, and I don’t let my friends break down alone. So, whenever you feel like this, just come find me. I’ll squeeze the sadness right outta ya.” His words, though playful, carried a weight of sincerity that made your heart ache a little less.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil stood before you, his expression unreadable, though his eyes held a rare softness. “You’ve let yourself reach this point of exhaustion,” he sighed, shaking his head slightly. “It’s not your fault, but you shouldn’t have been forced to carry this burden alone.”

He knelt beside you, his touch gentle but firm as he took your hand. “You’ve been strong for so long, but even the strongest need time to recuperate. Don’t mistake vulnerability for weakness. It takes great strength to admit you need help.”

Vil brushed a stray tear from your cheek, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “You’ve given so much of yourself, but now, it’s time to prioritize your own well-being. I won’t let you neglect yourself any longer. Remember, even a diamond can crack if too much pressure is applied.”

Rook Hunt

Rook’s eyes sparkled with emotion as he knelt gracefully beside you, his usual exuberance tempered by an uncharacteristic stillness. “Ah, mon ami, you have been carrying such a heavy heart all this time,” he whispered, his voice a melodic lilt.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch light, almost reverent. “To be in a world so foreign, surrounded by danger, yet still you’ve stood tall… such beauty in your strength. But even the most resilient soul must rest.”

Rook smiled warmly, leaning closer as if to share a secret. “Let us lift this burden from your shoulders, together. You are not alone. I, too, am by your side, always watching, always ready to catch you should you stumble.”

Epel Felmier

Epel crouched down next to you, his face tight with concern. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, not used to comforting others but determined nonetheless. “You shouldn’t have had to go through all this,” he muttered, his country drawl creeping into his voice. “Crowley’s a real piece of work, throwin’ all that on ya.”

He reached out, offering a hand in his own shy way. “You’ve been tougher than most, and I admire that. But that don’t mean you gotta keep it all bottled up. It’s okay to feel this way. We’re all here for ya, and I’m not lettin’ anyone mess with you anymore.”

Epel’s expression softened, his voice gentler now. “You’ve got us, so don’t think you’re alone in this. We’ll face it all together.”

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim immediately rushed to your side, concern written all over his face. “Oh no! You’ve been carrying all this by yourself? Why didn’t you tell me?” he exclaimed, kneeling down and grabbing your hands with both of his, his usual exuberance tempered by a rare sincerity.

He gave you a bright, reassuring smile. “You’ve been so strong for everyone else, but it’s okay to take a break. You don’t have to do everything alone—you’ve got us! And I promise, from now on, we’re all going to make sure you’re okay too.”

Kalim’s warm eyes sparkled with optimism. “Let’s go celebrate once you feel better! Something fun and happy—just to take your mind off everything. I’ll plan the best party ever, and you can just relax, okay?”

Jamil Viper

Jamil crouched down beside you, his dark eyes watching you carefully, as if assessing your every emotion. He sighed softly, his voice low and calm. “You’ve been under more pressure than anyone should have to deal with, and none of it was your fault.”

He rested a hand on your shoulder, his touch firm and grounding. “You shouldn’t have had to bear all this alone, but you don’t have to anymore. I understand what it’s like to carry more than you should.”

Jamil’s eyes softened, though his expression remained calm and composed. “From now on, you can rely on us. I won’t let things spiral out of control again, and I won’t let Crowley push you to your limits anymore. You deserve to take a step back and breathe.”

Idia Shroud

Idia stood awkwardly at a distance at first, his usual nervous fidgeting even more pronounced as he saw you breaking down. He hesitated before kneeling beside you, keeping his hands to himself. “I, uh… I get it,” he muttered, voice quieter than usual. “Feeling like the world’s too much to handle? Yeah, I’ve been there.”

He shifted uncomfortably but spoke with genuine understanding. “You’ve been through way more than anyone should. And, uh, it’s okay to not be okay. You don’t have to act like everything’s fine all the time.”

Idia’s blue flames flickered a bit brighter as he added, “If you need to… y’know, not deal with everything, I’ve got games and stuff to help you chill out. No judgment. Just… take it easy, okay?”

Ortho Shroud

Ortho hovered closer, his usual upbeat tone shifting to something far more gentle. “You’ve done so much, and I know it’s been really hard on you,” he said softly, his mechanical voice somehow conveying warmth.

He floated down beside you, his small hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “But you’re not alone anymore! You’ve got big brother and me, and we’ll help you through everything. You don’t have to carry all this by yourself.”

Ortho gave you a bright smile, his eyes glowing softly. “Let me help you feel better! We can work together, and you can lean on us whenever you need to.”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus approached you slowly, his imposing presence softened by the genuine concern in his eyes. He knelt gracefully beside you, his voice low and soothing. “You have been through much, more than anyone should bear. It is no wonder you feel as though the weight is too much.”

He extended a hand, his fingers brushing gently against your arm. “You are not alone in this world. I understand what it is to feel isolated, but you have friends, and you have me.”

Malleus’s gaze softened further, his voice almost a whisper. “I am here for you, as are the others. Rest now, and let us share in your burden. No harm shall come to you as long as I stand by your side.”

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia floated down beside you with a lightness that contrasted the gravity of the situation. His usual playful demeanor faded, replaced by quiet empathy. “Ah, little one,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with affection. “You’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

He rested a hand gently on your head, giving it a comforting pat. “You’ve done well, more than anyone could have asked of you. But now, it’s time to let go of some of that burden. There’s no shame in needing help.”

Lilia smiled gently, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “You’re not alone, not anymore. We’ll protect you. You can lean on us when you need to.”

Silver

Silver knelt beside you, his calm eyes filled with quiet understanding. “You’ve been strong for a long time,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing. “But you don’t have to be strong all the time.”

He placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his touch steady and grounding. “It’s okay to let yourself feel overwhelmed. It doesn’t mean you’re weak—it means you’ve been through too much.”

Silver’s eyes softened as he spoke. “You have friends here, people who care about you. You can rely on us. I’ll be here, watching over you, so you can rest.”

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek approached you with his usual fervor but hesitated when he saw your tears. His sharp voice softened, though it still carried his typical intensity. “Human! You have been through much, but you must remember—you are not alone in this!”

He stood tall beside you, his green eyes blazing with determination. “You have shown strength, but it is not weak to ask for help! Lord Malleus would never allow you to suffer alone, and neither will I!”

Sebek crossed his arms, standing like a guardian at your side. “You are under the protection of Lord Malleus, and by extension, my protection! No harm will come to you now.”

Crowley

Crowley fluttered over, his usual flamboyant demeanor subdued as he saw your distress. “Ah, my dear prefect,” he began, wringing his hands nervously. “It seems that perhaps I’ve… placed more on your shoulders than I should have.”

He knelt beside you, his expression uncharacteristically somber. “You’ve done so much for this school, more than anyone could have asked of you. And for that, I owe you a great debt.”

Crowley’s voice softened, uncharacteristically sincere. “But now, it’s time for me to take some responsibility. You’ve more than earned your rest. From now on, I’ll make sure you have the support you need.”

Divus Crewel

Crewel knelt beside you, his sharp eyes softened with concern. “You’ve been through hell, pup,” he said, his voice low but firm. “And it’s no surprise that you’re feeling the strain.”

He reached out and adjusted your collar with practiced precision, as if he could fix your emotional state as easily as he could fix your appearance. “You’ve shown remarkable strength, but even the strongest need a break."

Crewel’s voice took on a more gentle tone as he gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not expected to bear the weight of the world on your own, pup. You’ve more than proven yourself, but now it’s time for you to let others shoulder some of that burden. I won’t allow anyone to exploit your loyalty or determination again.”

He straightened up, his steely demeanor still present but tempered with warmth. “You’ve got me in your corner now. If anyone dares push you to the brink again, they’ll have to deal with me. Understood?”

Mozus Trein

Trein approached slowly, his usual stern expression softened with concern as he adjusted his glasses. “You’ve been under undue stress, haven’t you?” he observed in his deep, calming voice. “No one should be forced to handle such pressure alone.”

He knelt beside you, his demeanor fatherly as he rested a hand on your arm. “This world has not been kind to you, I see that now. But you’ve handled it all with remarkable resilience. However, even the strongest minds and hearts need time to recover.”

Trein sighed deeply, his tone softening further. “I will ensure that you are given that time, without further demands placed on you. You’ve done more than enough.”

Ashton Vargas

Vargas came over with his usual boisterous energy, but seeing you in distress made him pause. His expression softened, and he knelt down beside you. “Hey, hey! What’s all this about, huh?” he said, his voice a bit gentler than usual. “You’ve been holding up the team for too long, I see. That’s a heavy weight, and it’s no wonder you’re feeling tired.”

He placed a strong, reassuring hand on your back. “You’re tougher than you think, but even the toughest need a break sometimes. You’ve done amazing—really! But now, it’s time to rest up and let others carry the load for a bit.”

Vargas smiled warmly, his usual energy tempered with sincerity. “You’ve earned it, champ. We’re not leaving you behind. We’ll get through this together.”

Sam

Sam quietly appeared beside you, his usual playful smile replaced by something softer, more caring. “Well now, looks like you’ve been carryin’ quite the burden, huh?” he said in his deep, smooth voice.

He crouched down next to you, his hand resting on your shoulder with a firm but gentle grip. “You’ve been strong for everyone else, but you can let that go for a bit. No shame in feelin’ overwhelmed.”

Sam’s eyes twinkled kindly, and he gave you a warm smile. “Remember, you’ve got friends, and we’re all here for you. Anytime you need a little pick-me-up, you know where to find me. No more carryin’ this all by yourself, alright?”

Grim

Grim strutted over, his ears twitching as he noticed the tears on your face. “Oi, what’s this?” he huffed, trying to sound nonchalant but clearly concerned. “You’re not supposed to be cryin’. You’re supposed to be tough, like me!”

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to handle the situation, before awkwardly patting your arm with his paw. “Uh... stop bein’ all sad, okay? You’ve been through a lot, but you’re still here, right? And that’s ‘cause you’ve got me, the Great Grim! I mean, you’re my henchhuman, so obviously you’re tough enough to handle anything!”

He puffed out his chest, trying to inject some of his usual bravado into the situation. “I’ll take care of things next time! No need to worry. Just... stop cryin’, alright? It’s weird. I’m supposed to be the one gettin’ pampered, not the other way around!”

Despite his tough words, Grim stayed by your side, his tail flicking nervously. “But, y’know, I guess... if you need to cry, that’s fine too. Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Masterlist

[queer-reader-07]

i think what hurts so much about the Final Fifteen and The Kiss is the inevitability of it all.

the inevitability of crowley breaking down and finally confessing his feelings. the inevitability of aziraphale going back to heaven because he believes in his heart of hearts that he can change it. the inevitability of them realizing just a little too late that the other does actually love them back but it just can’t work. it won’t work. not like this.

they both bared their hearts to each other. they both said what they’d been wanting to say for so long.

they didn’t say “i love you.” not those three words, but they said everything else it might as well have been an “i love you.”

crowley said “we’ve spent our entire existence pretending we’re not [. . .] and i’d like to spend- [eternity? the rest of our lives? what little time we have left?]” and he said “we could be, an Us.”

and aziraphale said “we could be together!” “crowley i- i need you.”

what are those statements if not confessions of a love that is deep and profound? what are those statements if not full of millennia of emotions that they’ve only just allowed themselves to properly feel? you don’t say those things to just anybody. you say those things to the person you love more than anything or anyone.

and even still. it didn’t work, it fell apart right before our very eyes. crowley walked out and aziraphale went up and they both looked so endlessly angry and betrayed.

and it hurts. it hurts more than i was prepared for. it hurts like very few pieces of media have ever made me hurt. and it hurts even more when you realize that it was always gonna end this way. with them leaving each other. because they fundamentally disagree on what they want. crowley wants to run off to the stars and just be together and aziraphale wants to fix the institution that’s forcing them to run off in the first place.

i don’t think, actually scratch that. i KNOW this isn’t how it’s gonna end end. the end of their story, the end of s3, will have them back together. i know it will. but the first confession, the first admittance of love, that was always going to end in heartbreak and betrayal and anger.

because they can’t have their happily ever after until they finally understand each other. until they finally talk to each other about their feelings. not just their love (although yes please talk about it) but also their grievances. their annoyances. the things that made the confession blow up in their faces.

crowley and aziraphale don’t talk to each other. aziraphale lives in a fantasy world where they aren’t actually in trouble and oh look! a ball! and crowley lives in constant fight or flight and routinely hides things from aziraphale. they don’t listen to each other and they don’t let the other in.

so of course their first ever conversation about their feelings fell apart in real time. it was never going to end in happily ever after because you can’t build a happily ever after off of miscommunication and secrets and skirting around your feelings.

but the messy confession has happened now. it’s done. it’s not dealt with, that’s what a heartfelt, honest conversation in s3 is for. because after they talk it out, that’s when the happily ever after comes in. the happily ever after can only happen once a) both of them know (✔️) and b) they actually understand where the other is coming from.

we’re half way there guys, i know they’ll be ok in the end. but for now it very much hurts to rewatch the Final Fifteen. and i think it, in part, hurts so much because we have a phenomenal writer with phenomenal actors bringing this story to life.

[void-of-existence]

this isn’t specifically based off of the prompt, but I felt it fit good enough, and wanted to have an excuse to post this on tumblr too

___

Day six: Apology

Today marked seven years since Aziraphale and Crowley parted ways. It was funny, really, because that day would also be the day they see each other once again. God seemed to like her sevens that way.

~

"We're closed!" Crowley called across the old bookshop at the knock on the door, pulling his reddish-black curls into a messy bun. He threw himself down onto his cushiony black leather recliner with a sigh, and picked up the book he was currently reading off of the the side table. Just as he opened the book, though, another three knocks sounded from the front of the shop. Crowley groaned loudly as he pushed himself up and stormed to the front of the shop, not bothering to put his sunglasses on. Before he even thought to check who was there, he flung open the door, only to be met with a very familiar face.

"...Ang- 'Ziraphale?" The demon forced down his old habit.

"Hello, Crowley." The way the angel said his name stung, like being gently spritzed with holy water. Crowley looked him up and down, noticing he was now dressed in all white, and possessed purple eyes. "Why are 𝘺𝘰𝘶 here, 𝘚𝘶𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘈𝘻𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦?" Aziraphale cringed, quietly hoping he wouldn't do that. "Crowley look, I'm sorry I made you think I chose Heaven over you. But I-"

"Stop. Don't want to hear it." He cut him off, clearly mad that it took him this long to apologize for something Crowley thought he himself would have gotten over by now.

Aziraphale flinched at the harshness on his tongue, but tried again nonetheless. "Crowley," He stepped forward, "I am truly 𝘴𝘰 very sorry." Crowley, who had put on his glasses to hide his own over-expressive eyes, raised a brow. The angel sighed hopefully at the first sign that he might not just be talking to a brick wall. "In Heaven, time doesn't really pass, so I only realized how long it had been when I came down to visit you. Really, it hasn't been that long, I mean-" He laughed awkwardly, "There have been times when we'd go 𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 without seeing or talking to each other. But, this time... It's just- We had never been that 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 before. You spent so much time in the bookshop that you practically lived there, and you even moved some of your plants in." An angelic smile spread across Aziraphale's face, which would usually make Crowley blush, but today was different. He didn't even let his blank unemotional stare falter in the slightest.

The angel's smile fell. "Crowley?"

The demon never broke eye contact from underneath his glasses, even though he knew Aziraphale couldn't see his eyes. "What? 'Ya want a kiss on the cheek?" He leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised in annoyance.

The blonde's pale face grew pink. "I- Well not- ..I wouldn't mind." The last bit of his stuttering mess of a sentence was spoken quieter, but still caught the attention of the demon. Crowley's face and ears became redder than his own dark hair, before he remembered he was supposed to be mad at the angel. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The point is" He began, sighing angrily, "Good for you. You said sorry. Now what? You 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 me after I had- had kissed you, and you LEFT." Just then, Crowley was glad he had put on his sunglasses earlier, because in that moment, tears pooled in his eyes and threatened to fall. "Then, 𝘚𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘕 𝘠𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘚 𝘓𝘈𝘛𝘌𝘙, all of a sudden you're comin' back to Earth to try 'n apologize? For both of our 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 existences, ever since I fell, you've been tryin' to convince me that I'm 'good'." He hissed, now looking down at the ground. "But you called me the bay guy. You grouped me with all the rest of those fuckers in hell." The demon's voice cracked, a detail that didn't go unnoticed by his angel.

"Oh, Crowley dear," The angel cooed, taking another step closer. "I thought I could fix them, stop the second coming, but they-" Crowley's pupils shrunk into thin slits, he lifted his head to make eye contact with Aziraphale. "The 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵?" They both went silent.

"I thought you-" He was cut off by a loud groan, followed by the slam of the bookshop door. He pushed it back open and shut it gently behind him, speed-walking to catch up with his fast pace.

"I'm not with them anymore, I'm on my own side- You know that! You've known that for several 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘢, Aziraphale!" He miracled the door shut behind the angel as he walked in, "They don't inform me on this shit! Not since Shax became ��𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘶𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭, she couldn't give less of a shit about 𝘮𝘦 anymore." Crowley plopped down onto the recliner he had been sitting in earlier, which is when Aziraphale noticed the book sitting on the side table.

"You read the book I suggested you!" He beamed, picking up the book with the navy blue cover.

"Huh?" Crowley looked up at the angel from his spot on the chair. He turned the book to face him, smiling enthusiastically.

"You've recommended about half the shop to me at this point, it's hard to read something you 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯'𝘵 suggested to me."

The angel still smiled sweetly, despite the harsh tone the demon continued to carry. He blushed slightly, knowing Crowley had always been a liar when it came to feelings.

Aziraphale knew he was reading the book because it reminded him of the blonde, and couldn't help but compliment him. "You really are quite sweet, Dear." He cooed, earning a quiet serpentine hiss from Crowley, who seemed deep in thought.

"Crowley?" Yellow eyes turned to make eye contact from under dark glasses.

"I love you."

And even though no one saw it, the demon's expressive eyes blinked a few times in shock, pupils shrinking once again to thin slivers.

"I tried to tell you that seven years ago. That would have been a great time to reciprocate." He looked down at his lap and fidgeted with his chipped black nail polish.

Aziraphale sighed loudly. "Please, don't be dramatic Crowley."

"Me? 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤?" The demon scoffed, "M'kay, I forgive you."

[maniacalmole]

               When Aziraphale finally came back, Crowley didn’t really much care what he was saying, or mumbling, or choking out, but instead was watching him like a hawk for signs of what he really meant, like he always had, and it was so familiar an action that he almost didn’t even care what he found, he was just so blessed glad to be able to do it again, only what he did find was that Aziraphale was sagging under a despair and a relief so profound that eventually Crowley was satisfied enough to say, “I’m tired. Need a good night’s rest. Let’s pick this back up in the morning.”

               And Aziraphale had looked both petrified and grateful, so Crowley had leaned back on the bookshop sofa and gone to sleep. Which wasn’t really a surprise, given that he hadn’t exactly been sleeping well lately, but what had surprised him was that in the morning he’d seen Aziraphale had fallen asleep, too, something he’d hardly seen in their millennia of knowing each other. So he supposed they’d both needed it.

               Which was why, when they both woke up around noon, Crowley did something the bookshop had never seen in its decades of existence, because normally they had so many places they wanted to go together, but now all they really wanted to do was stay there, and so he ordered takeaway.

               And so there they were, Crowley sat on the sofa and Aziraphale in an armchair, Chinese takeaway boxes scattered on a hastily cleared-of-books end table, with Crowley shoveling noodles into his mouth because he hadn’t realized he’d been so hungry. And Aziraphale was holding one dumpling between a pair of chopsticks, looking like a statue.

               “So—” Crowley said, with difficulty around the noodles—how had the angel always managed to talk and eat at the same time, all while looking so prim?—and he’d never gotten the hang of chopsticks. Which, all right, he’d lived in China for a few centuries over the ages, but he’d eaten far less often than humans did, so it still wasn’t all that shameful. “So, what’s next, then?”

               “Rather a lot, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale glanced at him when he said it, did that little twitch of an eyebrow he couldn’t help doing sometimes, even when he was squashing everything down inside him, like now, then looked away.

               Crowley shoveled more noodles into his mouth. Aziraphale took the history of the world’s smallest bite of his dumpling. Crowley frowned.

               “And—er—”

               “I wish I could’ve come back to you with it all being finished,” Aziraphale said sadly. “‘Done, I solved it’. Well, I’m afraid I wasn’t all that useful.”

               “From what you told me last night, you did loads.” Crowley stared at the dumpling. “Aren’t you hungry?”

               “Oh.” Aziraphale grimaced at his chopsticks. “Er. Haven’t really eaten much. I don’t want—uh—don’t want to upset my stomach. You know how it is.”

               Crowley just frowned. He took another gargantuan bite. Too big, really. It was all he could do to chew.

               “The last thing I wanted to do was to come back to you with more problems,” Aziraphale said wretchedly. “But they just kept getting larger and larger, and eventually it was now or never—and I’m just—I’m just so useless—”

               Crowley chewed faster. He really shouldn’t have eaten so much at once. He could do the snake thing, he supposed, but he really didn’t think a big old reminder of how inhuman he was would be quite appropriate, right now. Still, he had things to say, or rather, to interrupt, so he swallowed painfully, made a horrible noise, and finally hissed, “Never mind that, just, let’s just, get through this day, all right? Just one day.”

               Aziraphale’s eyes went distant. Crowley wondered if they even measured days, in Heaven. They certainly tried not to think about it in Hell. Aziraphale was still holding that blessed dumpling, hardly touched, with perfect chopstick finesse, and he wished it would fall, just so the angel would have to catch it with his teeth.

               “What are you doing?”

               “What?” Aziraphale snapped halfway out of his daze.

               “What are you—why are you eating like that? Why aren’t you eating?”

               “I told you—” the angel said, sounding just peevish enough to spur him on.

               Crowley reached over and took the chopsticks from him. Aziraphale sputtered. Crowley gestured with the dumpling. “Why are you being so weird about it?”

               “I’m not—”

               “It’s eating. It’s food, look, here it comes—”

               “Crowley, are you airplaning that dumpling at me?”

               Crowley paused mid-airplaning the dumpling towards him. He said, “N-n—”

               Aziraphale gave him an icy stare.

               “‘Member before it was airplanes?” Crowley said. He smiled. He felt something bubbling up inside him, and Aziraphale, remembering himself and trying to look penitent again, was not going to stop it. “It was trains, for a while, right? ‘Here comes the train, carrying your food.’ Don’t think they ever did that with a horse and buggy, though. S’pose you’d imply the kid was eating the horse, which wasn’t really the thing.”

               “Crowley.”

               “Before they had food-carrying vehicles, how did they get kids to eat, then? Do you remember?”

               “Not really.” Aziraphale looked a bit wretched again. Crowley handed him back his chopsticks, and the angel took them. Took a bite. So small, it could hardly even be called a nibble.

               Crowley sighed and leaned back into his own seat. “Anyway, I guess none of it really makes sense. You’d have to eat the whole airplane, too.”

               They sat in silence for a while. Crowley took another bite of lo mein. Because of the chopsticks, and his fear, after everything, of what would happen if he dropped food on the bookshop floor, he’d held the whole carton up to his mouth and dumped it in, and now he really was choking, and after a few moments of terrified silence, he gave up and did the snake thing. Dislocating a human-shaped jaw really was less dramatic than when the entirety of you was just a long tube, but he knew it still looked odd. It wasn’t the reason he hardly ever ate in restaurants, but it was a small part of it. When he was done, he clenched his teeth back together and winced in the angel’s direction.

               Aziraphale was looking at him with a wistful expression that was part amused and part something else. He said, “I missed you.”

               Well. If everything before hadn’t been enough, that certainly was. Crowley said, “Do you at least want to try drinking something? Some cocoa?” and his own voice startled him with its softness.

               Aziraphale looked thoughtful. Then doubtful. “I—don’t know.”

               “C’mon. I’ll make you some. You’ve got to wake up the stomach with something, right?”

               “I suppose—”

               “I’ll make you some.” He rose from the sofa with the grace of a marionette being picked up by the strings, which was ironic, since he had never felt less like a puppet. “Be in the kitchenette. Right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

               And he left, because he knew he wouldn’t.

               When he came back, steaming warm mug in his hands, Aziraphale had put the dumpling away, but the doubt in his eyes had changed to something near hope. He took the cocoa and stared into it while Crowley sat back down. Not all the way, not leaning back into the sofa, but elbows resting on his knees, leaning forward towards the angel. Aziraphale looked at him, and Crowley tilted his head at the mug and raised his eyebrows, just a little. Aziraphale smiled, closed his eyes and, after taking a deep breath, took a sip. Then he winced.

               “Too hot?” Crowley said, brows pulling together.

               “I should have waited—”

               “Here.” Crowley reached for the mug and touched it with his index finger. Then, needing something to calibrate the temperature to, he put his other hand on top of Aziraphale’s. He performed a minor miracle.

               He let go, leaned back, and Aziraphale looked at him. He took another sip. The angel closed his eyes and, slowly, drank the whole thing.

               When he put the mug down, it was empty.

               “Mm?” Crowley said lightly.

               “Thank—” Aziraphale started to say, but he shifted, his face a pained grimace. He put a hand to his stomach, waving Crowley off with his other hand when the demon had made a noise of worry. The angel sighed and his face relaxed.

               “Did it upset your stomach?” Crowley asked. Again, that soft voice. Croaky with misuse.

               “A little.” Aziraphale looked up at him. He gave a watery smile. “It was wonderful.”

               Crowley felt his own face doing something. It was something like a grin. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

               Aziraphale looked at the remains of the Chinese takeaway. There were still several unopened boxes. With the memory of the angel passed out in his chair, eyes closed, chest moving slowly, Crowley had gone a bit overboard with the ordering. He hadn’t even known the bookshop’s address. Just told the delivery person the street name, and said, ‘Bookshop with a big black car in front of it. You can’t miss it.’ And he hadn’t. It was an iconic duo.

               “We could—” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “We could save those for later, yes?”

               Crowley beamed at him. “Yeah. Angel?”

               “Hm?”

               “Welcome back.”

[chaoticfandomgirly]

Supernatural s15 Finale

Okay, so I have something big to confess.

I actually didn't mind how Supernatural ended.

Now, before you all come raging in the comments, hear me out !

You see, Dean dying really wasn't something controversial in my opinion. He was someone who did a lot of questionable things throughout his journey . A lot of people death's are on him. Now, I am not saying he didn't deserve to live. Not at all. But I do think that Dean was not happy with his life. Time and time again it was shown that his will to truly live only extended till his brother was alive. For all the saving the world and stuff, he always, and I mean ALWAYS, prioritized Sam. And throughout the show you can see the PTSD and the depression that Dean suffered through.

AND let's not forget, by the end of s15 almost every character that Dean cared about was either gone or dead. Bobby? Dead. Ellen and Joe? Dead. Mary and John? Dead. Charlie? Dead. Rowena? Queen of Hell. Crowley? Dead. Jack? Gone. Lisa and Ben? Gone.

And CAS? FUCKING DEAD.

So, it does make sense that he went to Heaven and reunited with everyone he had lost. And not to mention he got a perfect heaven, where he could be FINALLY at peace. After saving the world a billion times he did deserve a break but he said it himself that he would only ever go down swinging.

So the lyric, "Lay your weary head down to rest," came to fruition.

And as for him being without Sam? That time apart was as long as a road trip around Heaven's garden for him.

Though, to imagine that Sam had to live without Dean, and raise a son who would never get to know his uncle. Sam's brother. The person who he loved most. Now that made me cry. (And yes I did cry! I am not completely heartless! Just a writer who like to analyse stuff.)

But yeah, out of all the things that happened in the last season, the ending was what made sense to me. Because the alternative was Dean carrying on with his life as a hunter with none of the beloved characters in sight. And Sam being right there with Dean, and possibly not having a family, because he would not leave his brother.

And for everyone who says that Dean was a family man and deserved to have a family? I will say this again. Yes he was a family man and deserved to raise his own kids. But how would he do that when none of his real family besides Sam existed? And let's not forget...Cas. As a destiel shipper I don't believe that Dean could have moved on and started a family without him.

So yeah, there, I rest my case now.

[zeldahime]

Highway to Pail Day 13

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 13: How do you turn a demon into an angel? Scare the hell out of them.

If you asked if Crowley feared Hell, he'd figure you were an evangelical Christian and give you the fright of your life by saying something like "Hell? Hell is empty. All the devils are here," then turning his head into a snake. Yes, Crowley knew that line was from one of Boring Bill's plays and not even a funny one, but he'd told Aziraphale he'd fed Bill that line in a bar in 1610 and had stuck to that story ever since. (Aziraphale knew better, because dear old William had tested that line on him in 1607, but he also thought Crowley was ever so charming when he was lying and so had never called him on it.)

If Aziraphale had asked him, Crowley would tell him he really wasn't that scared of Hell, honestly. Not to say he enjoyed the place, but you knew what to expect from them, knew where you stood. He knew how they monitored him and that they didn't usually bother with it; he knew more or less what punishments which Dukes and Princes liked to inflict on their underlings and how best to avoid them. He'd tell Aziraphale, honestly he'd been more scared in Heaven towards the end there, watching his friends Fall and suddenly knowing Her love was conditional, and he'd know Aziraphale would understand the depth of that fear because Aziraphale had watched him Fall. It would be meant as a reassurance. Aziraphale, who had been fearful in Heaven long before the Fall and the War and to whom the Fall was actually a perverse relief—so he hadn't been worried about nothing, so his anxiety was rational—would not be reassured.

Crowley would be lying, but don't hold it against him: he wouldn't realize it, which is the scariest part.

In reality, he was terrified of Hell.

He'd been scared of Hell for so long it formed the foundation for most of his actions and thoughts, and much like you don't ever think about what kind of foundation your house is built on, Crowley just didn't think about it very much. For example: he kept an insurance policy because Hell was dog-eat-dog, or demon-eat-demon, and anyone who caught him with Aziraphale would come after them like that Frou-Frou guy had and he needed a way to defend himself. Clear, logical, no emotions involved in this reasoning really as far as he was concerned. He did not follow this train of motivations any further. If he'd gotten off just one stop further down the line, he'd have noticed that the reason he needed a way to defend himself was because punishment is unpleasant and he didn't want to deal with that, and another stop might have suggested, so, one of your motivations here, if you'd please let me finish speaking sir, might be fear of punishment?

Crowley rarely took trains of thought all the way to the end of the line, and so very rarely did he ever actually think about being scared. He sometimes considered how much things would hurt if he got caught, weighed it in a pros and cons list, but never connected that thought to fear of getting caught.

The lead-up to the Apocalypse was different. Things he didn't even know he could be scared of kept popping up, like a really unpleasant random jack-in-the-box. He was scared when Warlock was little and threw a fit, certain he'd say something like "I hate you Nanny! I wish you'd never existed!" and he'd be wiped from reality. He was scared when he was waiting for a hellhound at a birthday party and scared when it no-showed.

He was scared when he saw the bookshop on fire, no Aziraphale in sight. He had never even thought of the possibility of the bookshop catching on fire, not really. It'd been a joke, calling the place a fire hazard or a death trap to rile Aziraphale up a bit when he was tipsy. He'd known down to his bones that Aziraphale would never let his books burn.

It wasn't until the night after the first day of the rest of their lives that Crowley realized just how scared he was, and as soon as he realized he'd had that thought, he'd buried it as deeply as he could.

Because that night, he'd dreamed of Heaven for the first time.

Maybe it was because of the switcheroo they'd pulled, going up to Heaven in Aziraphale's corporation. Maybe it triggered some memories, or something. Heaven yesterday hadn't been anything like Heaven had been Before. Before, it had been full of warmth, and other angels, and the Light of God, not a cold empty office space ripped directly from a skyscraper in New Jersey. He'd spent most of his time in the firmament back then, but he'd thought of Heaven as home, a safe place to come back to, where he could talk to his pals and play games and rest. It had already begun shifting away from that long before the Fall, of course, but it had gotten so much worse since.

On the very first night of the rest of his life, Crowley's dream was his earliest memory. God had called his Name, the one he'd have ripped away from him when he Fell, and he had sprung into existence with Love in his heart. Another angel had called to him and told him about stars and nebulae and the Grand Design and Crowley had Loved them, in awe of these things they described. It was so simple. He dreamed of other times in the Before, conversations with other angels about what if we did it this way, or changed that. A conversation where he wondered why the stars would be so far away from the humans, why they would be extinguished so soon when they could burn for billions upon billions of years. He remembered curiosity, friendship, play, all free and unfiltered and simple.

He remembered the first time he felt fear, when Lucifer said that other angels disagreed with them and there was going to be a fight, and explained what a fight was.

And then he woke up, and he realized he was deeply afraid, and had been for most of his existence. This was very unpleasant, and changed absolutely nothing except making him skittish at exactly the time he could most benefit from the habitual recklessness he'd begun to nourish over the last few centuries.

It didn't even change what he'd tell Aziraphale if Aziraphale had asked the question, as described above, because whether or not he was telling the truth was pretty much unimportant, he'd think; the important part would be reassuring Aziraphale, since the angel was much more emotionally fragile that he was.

Aziraphale had known all along, of course, which is why he'd never asked. Some things were best left unaddressed, in his opinion. Crowley seemed to have it well in hand, dealing with his eternal fear in a healthier way than Aziraphale's own anxious paranoia, so often overcoming it to be braver than Aziraphale could ever be.

They were, of course, both totally wrong.

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

🔆anon

The weekend, where Kit met with Fellow and Gidel.

Kit: On with it. What’s your story?

Fellow: you were my little sister, born nine years after me. We both come from… bad… parents, so bad that I had to take care of you myself. Even to the point of naming you. Eventually we ran away, and lived like that for years. Until you got extremely sick and I had to scrounge around for money to bring you to a doctor, but once I got enough, you were missing and our stuff was stolen. I thought I’d never see you again, but I always kept an eye out. I even kept the drawings and stuff you made.

Kit: So they stole the stuff of two homeless kids, but not the drawings? Also what’s with the cat?

Fellow: I kept the drawings on me. They were my good luck, so they weren’t there with everything else. And don’t ask me why people stole the stuff of two homeless kids, not even I know. They stole anything useable, leaving only some extremely cheap and torn blankets and clothes. And as for Gidel, I found him one day and he agreed to help me as long as I cared for him, and we’ve been working like that the whole time.

Gidel: *nods*

Kit: You expect me to believe that a sick and immobile me just disappeared?

Fellow: Were you not found in a random place while being so sick you couldn’t move? As well as, based on how you were treated, it wouldn’t be a jump to assume you were the only one in your world who is a beastfolk?

Kit: So you want me to accept I can from a completely different world rather than existed in the world I knew and my parents just abandoned me because they were laying low and couldn’t take care of me?

Fellow: You just moved to this world, didn’t you? What’s such a big issue with assuming you did it before?

Kit: … *takes a breath* Why? Why did I go missing?

Fellow: I don’t know. I am just as confused. What I do know is that I am your family and want you back, if you’re willing.

Gidel: *tugs on Kit*

Kit: Such a sob story after you tried to magically manipulate me and my whole group. Though, I don’t think I can hold it against you. I know well enough it’s survival of the fittest. I’m willing to talk to you if you don’t just barge into my life. I’ll be free again next Saturday, plus I can spend until curfew getting to know you. Just don’t expect the rest of the group to be ok with you.

Fellow: I’m alright with all of that.

Gidel: *Jumping up and down with a smile while twirling his hammer*

Kit: *whispering to Fellow* What’s with the hammer?

Fellow: *whispers back* I got it for him as a gift and he never lets it go.

—

Kit was given a different name by her adoptive “parents” but she never uses it as a way to express her hatred of them. She immediately went by Kit once she realized she was in a new place, NRC. Though without a last name, she just never mentioned one or used her legal one.

Now that she has slightly accepted Fellow, she is going right to being Kit Honest and getting rid of her old last name. She will force Crowley to change it all, if he wants to or not.

Fellow's happy that he's at least been heard out.

[jac-is-procrastinating-again]

Chapter 3: In which the Bentley is a little sweetheart and Crowley is careless.

Chapter 3, first part thereof! As ever, link at the bottom if you want to read the rest, :)

= = = =

Crowley drove and drove, numb to distance, and blind to what was about him. As a demon, he didn’t need to breathe, but it was just as well.  His chest was so tight he couldn’t have inhaled if he wanted to.

These past few years, being with Aziraphale so much, had been idyllic. He’d indulged himself by taking on more and more human characteristics, idly trying to find out what it would feel like if they were just ordinary people living their life with maybe the odd miracle. It was a game he’d loved and though he’d never mentioned it to Aziraphale—of course he hadn’t—the angel had done the same. 

Crowley had got used to the sound of Aziraphale’s heartbeat whispering in the quiet of the room. Not that a human would’ve been able to hear it, of course, but it was no problem for demon-sharp ears. Aziraphale would sit in his chair and read, cup and saucer to hand, and Crowley would loll on the sofa with a glass of wine, sometimes thinking, sometimes just listening to that quiet acknowledgement of a shared pretence. It was the nearest he’d come to finding peace in a long, long time.

But those beautiful long afternoons were at an end, perhaps for good. The realisation hit hard, and he swerved. There was a screech of brakes; normally the car simply would not have crashed but Crowley was tangled up in the threads of his grief, and the laws of physics prevailed. The Bentley veered off the road and crashed into a tree.

He leaned his forehead on the wheel. “I’m sorry,” he murmured to the car. “I’ll make it right.”  Stumbling out of the door, he looked at the damage. The tree hadn’t smashed anything too vital, but it had made a mess of the beautiful curves. He pushed the Bentley back onto the tarmac easily enough, but when it came to having the strength to miracle it right, he had nothing.

He tried again, passing his hand over the crumpled, scratched metal, but there was nothing inside him but hollowness; a light coating of frost briefly flowered into fractals, then melted into a scattering of drops on the warm car.  Everything felt so very far away. Impossible, even.

The car let its engine stutter to a stop and reached out for comfort—and not just to him. Far away, very faintly, there was a faint scent of cologne and old books, and under his hand the metal straightened itself into pristine shape. As the wrinkled paint smoothed and joined together, lemon yellow, Crowley flung himself along the link; there was the faintest whisper of love and determination, and fear—

—and then the connection shattered abruptly.  The Metatron’s voice slithered into his head.  I don’t think that’s at all appropriate, do you… demon ? The term was a pointed reminder of everything that was at risk. 

Crowley didn’t answer. The link was gone, as if it had never existed. His stomach swirled uneasily; he had no way of knowing if Aziraphale was just cut off from him, or—worse.

The paint had not finished turning black when the link was severed; it had left a yellow lightning-streak on the car bonnet. Crowley smoothed his fingers over the polished metal but made no effort to finish the colour change. He had nothing to hold onto except that. 

Crowley was not one for hoarding stuff, and anything really precious to him was hidden away. He’d taken to using the bookshop as a safe space,  but it would be some time before he could face the sight of the empty chair there. For now, this was all he had. He pressed his hand down on the yellow paint and his mouth tightened.

A slight rain began to fall. Crowley got back in the car. The windscreen blurred with drops sliding down, but it didn’t matter. All he could see was Aziraphale’s face, disappearing between the lift doors, and the Metatron’s gratified expression.  A shiver slithered down his spine. It’ll happen all over again, and this time I’m not there to step in. 

= = = =

rest of the chapter can be found on AO3, as ever!

[fairyxdustt]

Optimist

Because deep down, underneath it all, Crowley was an optimist. 

That was why he always ended up getting hurt. That his illusions always ended up deflating like balloons, and even so he gave them air again so that they could rise again. Multiple times throughout his entire existence. 

And when it came to Aziraphale, it was proven that he was no different. He had been at his side for six thousand years. Six thousand years maintaining a relationship that he had dared to call friendship. A relationship that he had clung to with firm hands, that little by little had given meaning to that gray existence he faced. 

The guardian angel of the gate of Eden. Aziraphale, the angel who always tried to do good even if he had to go against the dictates of Heaven. The naive angel, a fan of magic and good food who always found the good side in people after desperately searching for it. That he believed in that goodness of humanity. That he possessed such stupid, hateful goodness. A quality that he always managed to drive him to despair. 

And yet, he adored him. 

Aziraphale had become his reason for living. In his everything. 

He had long been aware, even if he hadn't dared to fully accept it. Aziraphale had taken him out of that well of loneliness to which he was condemned for not being like the rest of the demons, for feeling that he did not belong anywhere. And that was when he realized that he did. That the place where he belonged was where the angel was. 

His bookshop. The Ritz. The Bentley. London. The Bastille itself, even. 

His place was next to Aziraphale. There he belonged and always would be that way. He didn't need it to be reciprocated. He didn't need Aziraphale to love him the same way. 

He just had to let him be by his side. 

And now he was faced with the enormous unknown that the situation had presented to him. Aziraphale was gone. What was going to happen to him?

He had nowhere to go. He couldn't go back to the bookstore because he wouldn't be there anymore. Or to Saint James Park. Or the Ritz. What was the point of going if not to watch his angel feast on his favorite foods? 

Even staying in the Bentley was painful. He had driven him alone on multiple occasions, but he had never felt so empty as in that very moment. 

Being in his own skin was painful. It was a pain he had experienced in the past, but this time he felt it much deeper. Because it wasn't a simple argument that he deep down hoped they would end up forgetting about, it was about Aziraphale having gone to heaven. The only place he couldn't go looking for him. 

He didn't even have the strength it took to be upset. They had left his body after seeing him cross the elevator towards heaven. Just as he didn't have the strength to hold back the tears that began to fall down his face, one after another, without being able to stop it. 

Because even though Crowley was an optimist, even if he knew that Aziraphale had love for him, he had arrived too late again. It was always too late. 

He had lost him. And this time he couldn't do anything to get him back. He had lost his battle against the sky for the love of Aziraphale. Maybe if he was an angel... 

Who was he kidding? If he was an angel, they would never have had the problems they had throughout the centuries. Everything would have been much simpler. 

But he was not an angel. He was a demon. He was from the opposite side, from the side of evil. How could he think that this would be enough? 

A fallen angel, whose wings had burned to black. The snake-eyed demon. Everything in him screamed that he would never be enough for Aziraphale, the angel with bright eyes and pure white wings.

Because Crowley was an optimist. He had been for a long, long time. 

But he had lost all hope.

im still no over the s2 ending, why are they always so tragic i can't do this anymore

[ask-but-beware-the-consequences]

Read this after watching episode 6 of s2, while we wait for season 3

A short fic I came up with just now sry in advance:

[The angels haven't left the bookshop yet, they are discussing the new arch angel position]

Crowley: Why not Raphael? Hm?

Others, concerned.

Crowley: I'm pretty sure he was in the 4 main archangels group. So obviously, he should be one of the followings wouldn't he?

Michael: Well, um… I don't owe an answer to a demon!

Aziraphale: He's the aid of humans. He must be down on Earth to help them. All the time.

Crowley, questioningly raising his eyebrows: … Where exactly?

Aziraphale: Well, it's quite a big planet, so-

Crowley: Where, exactly, did you hear that?

Aziraphale: Oh, well, um. It's true, it's how everybody knows it in Heaven!

Crowley, looking back at Michael, his temper raising by the bit: Youu! Lied! To everyone just to not have problems in the office?! Is that it?! Was my disappearance so outragous that you tried to replace me with a lie?!

Aziraphale: Crowley, what are you-

Crowley: You're the ones, that made my fall be worthless! And to top it off, you're trying to get my only friend- the only being I can ever exist with, to be the next archangel! A principality! Archangels are made! Not, promoted!

Aziraphale's eyes shoot up, sensing something's bad.

Crowley: You know that, no, you think that, if he's up there I can't get in there, but I swear to someone's name, if you try to get rid of him in any nasty way, I will bring Hell back into Heaven!

Aziraphale: Crowley-…

Michael: A threat from a demon that betrayed Hell, how… threatening.

Crowley, bursting into flames: Don't test me or I will kill you right here and now!-

Aziraphale, stepping between them: Crowley, stop! It's alright, I…

Azirpahale turning to the angels: I just need a bit of a time, we'll continue this, later.

Michael: So be it.

The angels leave.

Aziraphale, shaking from shock: So, you… you've been…

Crowley: Yes… sorry I haven't introduced myself before, I just knew, you would start with all that "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were an archangel" bullshit… Angel!

Aziraphale, standing back from being respectful: S-…sorry.

Crowley: This is what I've been trying to tell you! It doesn't matter how far you're up on the hierarchy, it's shit! You can't change anything, you follow orders, and that's it. You only think that you can change things because you're a principality.

Aziraphale: But, that's why! I see things, you possibly, couldn't see! I can make it a better place!

Crowley: Angel, it's a military base! Are you listening to yourself? Nobody has ever been good to you before there! Nor to me, except… you.

Aziraphale: That's why I have hope. Muriel here even-

Crowley: Angel, you won't be on top of the hierarchy. You will be accompanied by other archangels, with the same powers you have. No matter what powers you get, they can still fire you, like they fired Gabriel.

Aziraphale: They did what?

Crowley: In… the files. I haven't mentioned that, yet have I?

Aziraphale, looking awfully sad: But- …

Crowley, giving out a sigh: …Listen angel, I give you, what they will never give you. Free will. You might not have noticed it, but I always had given that to you. So now, I let you decide it for yourself. You can stay here with me, for the rest of our lives, somewhere, idk, maybe another place, in a cottage, southdown… or-

Aziraphale: But we are eternal beings, the rest of our life isn't just a few millenias! Or even less, what if Earh gets destroyed?! And all the stars along with it, that you have created?! I just want you to have a safe place… with me!

Crowley, giving out another but sadder sigh: If… you want to give it a try, I can't stop you, can I? But don't forget, I'm a demon, if I have a plan to save you… you know they will all fail… if I'm only doing this alone.

Aziraphale: And, I'm sure you know… if mine was to fall… I'd like you to catch.

Aziraphale tip-toing, then going outside of the bookshop, leaving the demon Crowley alone, but not for ever.

Crowley: Wat… Fall? Angel?!

He went outside after him but he was already gone.

Crowley, muttering to himself: I… I don't want you to fall… I want you to stay you.

Next

[merlions]

I genuinely need to make a side blog for fan related things to keep this space decluttered cause I have done that w separate ones per fan thing in the past but abandoned them all to the annals of time. But my brain is totally detonated today from Symptoms Disorder and Problems Disease and I just chugged good omens season 2 and then a huge amount of Internet and Opinions relating to it so I'm read more ing a whole bunch of thoughts I cannot get out of my befogged brain. About the Situations

No but I mean like I Just Think.

Crowley's "I can't ever be forgiven" in s1 and aziraphale thinking his bitterness is because he actually does want to be forgiven.

And then aziraphale in s2, trying to tell him, "[I love you! I love you too! I want you to come with me, and be happy again. And since the power has literally just been given to me to do so, officially,] I forgive you. [You are forgiven, you don't have to be an outcast anymore! Don't you want this gift I'm trying to give you?]" [And maybe - "But we can't have a physical relationship in heaven, why are you trying to change our relationship after all this time and ruin this salvation we've been offered?"]

Also it has been driving me kinda crazy but -

I think it was so easy for Gabriel to be fine with being with beelzebub and cast down to hell cause like Crowley says, the sides are both trying to do the same thing. Like whether it's the demons killing people or the angels letting them, or war that sterilizes the earth from both sides, they don't care about people, they literally only care about the rules. So Gabriel being in hell means almost nothing to him; same shit, different master. No risk.

Aziraphale and Crowley don't feel safe getting caught cause if they do what they believe in, BOTH sides will be angry at them, theres no way to keep being good to people if they're caught. They're on the side of PEOPLE. And it sucks that Az is so convinced heaven is better, but also it's true that if he fell, he would have to listen to new rules he didn't know how to safely break yet; he would be kept under a close eye and forced to do things he didn't believe in or risk being erased from existence; and *there's a nonzero chance they'd take his memories too and he wouldn't even know Crowley or remember their 6000 year past.*

Crowley, as many have said, is not totally right either. They also can't leave everything behind like gabriel and beelzebub, cause ultimately crowley and aziraphale will never be happy just letting the powers that be torch the earth. The rest of the universe's destruction comes next, anyways, per the s2 opening; they won't even stay safe for long if they run, more than likely!

And in Az's defense, both of them going to hell as kinda underlings, if Az's cast from grace, is a very different situation than HIM being allowed DIRECTLY to appoint Crowley as an angel, be in control enough to know no one can wipe his memories during the process, and be given (what he thinks is) SO much control over what heaven does; to try to fix it from the inside cause there's literally nothing else he can see that will ACTUALLY let them live, together and free.

He just doesn't understand at first that becoming an angel is not an option for Crowley; that becoming an angel again, even as a simple strategy for safety, would fundamentally and irrevocably change who he is as a person, to the very core.

I don't think aziraphale is actually making any decision to reject crowley's confession, even with the "I forgive you". He's just overwhelmed with so much, so fast, that his reaction and processing time slows to an absolute crawl. I think he literally doesn't even really get what Crowley is saying, and isn't able to fully communicate what he means - that "I forgive you" to him means "we're saying the same thing, that we want to stay together and I, on behalf of heaven, officially forgive you, so you can stay with me."

I think he's scrambling, just crazy scrambling, trying to figure all of this out, through the elevator ride - the soft grin, then not, then frowning, back to soft grin, and repeat on loop - is him processing the fuckin rollercoaster of emotional turbulence, from utter relief of being given what he thinks is FINALLY a way for him and Crowley to live and be safe, and the utterly terrible breakup and rejection of his plan for them to be safe, and the utterly incredible revelation of crowley's feelings (and maybe his own?).

Like there are two most likely options for what that final, jubilant smile means, in my personal onion.

1. He drank the [coffee] Kool aid. He is baffled and hurt that Crowley abandoned him in this moment of triumph but it's just a symptom of Crowley poisoning him against heaven all these years with temptations and he is clear and finally realized his purpose: he will be the fuckin major general overlord over the armies of heaven, leading them to final victory against evil. Crowley will probs have to Fix him during s3 again, possibly to stop him from ending the world. yikes boy

Or, imo more likely,

2. He finally processed everything that happened, including that Crowley was confessing love, the kiss, all the shit that went down. And he's finally clear and realized his purpose: gonna tear that shit ALL the way apart. Crowley can be mad for a while, but he can trust Crowley to still be around when he comes back and to forgive him. But Az's gonna have to play the long con to make this work. And he'll have to do it solo, but by the end there won't be any power in the universe that can keep the two of them from spending eternity together, safe, humans safe again.

(A joking 3. He's like "oh ok wait. Theres no way Jesus won't be like hells of down to get me back with Crowley and defend us against this bs. That gay ass? That human lover? Please. Metatron doesn't know WHATS about to hit him")

And the last thought I wanna add here is the book shop thing, right at the end.

Aziraphale's "nothing lasts forever" means, in that moment, "I would rather lose the book shop than lose you."

He then realizes Crowley isn't coming with him, so to try to delay all this shit happening with Metatron, give himself more time to process, he uses it to try to stay with crowley without attracting too much attention: "but what about my book shop?"

I can't see any other real reason for that flip-flop, especially when the book shop is SUCH a recurring thing. Like not to be up star treks assed hole forever and always but I keep thinking of things that parallel the whole az/Crowley situation and especially I wanna reference here Jimothy "In this universe i love literally nothing more than the USS star ship enterprise" Kirk. Blowing up the USS star ship enterprise to be back with Spock. "His soul is my responsibility. [...] As surely as if it were my very own."

Feels to me exactly like the book shop for aziraphale. In both cases: "I would never ever do anything ever to lose this Home of mine, the representation of everything important to me in this universe. Unless it means losing you."

Anywayssss

[durmom]

Its Useless

Part 6

AN: Sorry for the lack of posts I've been super busy with work and school but I have a couple chapters I'm posting now!

Part 5

He just looks into your eyes searching, his eyes flicker down to your lips. He rests his forehead against yours.

“Dean what's going on?” he takes a step back, rubs his forehead with his fingers, stressed.

“You confuse me?”

“What? I confused you? How?”

“One second we’re going at it and I’m so mad at you but the next I’m apologizing and hoping I didn’t fuck it up with you. I mean what is that?” You pause so confused by what just happened. Dean is still slightly pacing around the room.What the actual fuck was that? Is he not going to address it? 

“Dude you confuse me! It's a constant back and forth with you, I can’t tell how you feel about me. I mean today we fucking fought and I was so mad at you but now you’re going to sleep in my bed so we dont get nightmares.” Crossing the room to your bed you pull open the covers and get in bed. Today was exhausting and questioning your relationship with Dean was the last thing you wanted to do. “I know sweetheart, I myself am confused.”

“Let's not think about it tonight, just come to bed. We agreed to be friends.”

“Yeah you're right.” He gets into bed.

“I always am.” Dean glares at you, “Sure you are.” 

Once again you woke up to the bed empty. Looking at the clock it was noon. Fuck! Jumping out of bed you head to the library to see what the boys have been up to. Entering the library you are met with Sam, Dean, and Cas talking aggressively.

“Hey guys…What's going on?” You say cautiously. 

“We have a lead on lucifer.” Cas tells you. Vince. You look to Dean who is glaring at you, arms crossed. Great. Again he is mad at you. We just talked about this. 

“So have you found Vince?” Dean scoffs and you glare at him.

“Yes, Crowely and I have been working together, but we need help.”

“Right, well, I have to sit this out. I can’t be involved and I don't exactly want Crowley knowing I exist yet.”

“You never had the choice to come.” Dean crosses the room to you, pointing a finger, “You knew where he’d be, you could have helped.”

“Dean,” you sigh exasperated, “Seriously, we talked about this, we agreed yesterday morning, and last night, I cannot keep going in circles with you. I cannot tell you what happens, I am trying my best with you.”

“Well I'm done with you.” He pushes past you, shoving your shoulder.

“Fuck! You’re so dramatic!” you turn around and he stops in his tracks. 

“Y/n these are peoples fucking lives.” He keeps walking away. Tired, you just ignore him and turn back to Sam and Cas who look confused. 

“He’ll get over it.” trying to make light of the situation.

“Y/n, can you please tell us something, anything?” Sam gives you his best puppy dog eyes. 

“Sam, you know I can’t. But, you boys will be okay. I swear to you.” 

“Okay, I believe you.” he sighs, “We are heading out in an hour, I don't know when we will be back, will you be okay here?”

“Of course I will.” 

Instead of going and seeing Dean before he leaves, trying to make things right, you decide to leave him be. Let him come to the conclusion he's an ass by himself. So you meet them in the garage to say your goodbyes. Closing the trunk you go to Sam and Cas who are standing on the passenger side. Dean is sitting in the driver’s seat, ignoring you. You give Sam and Cas hugs telling them to be safe and you wave them off. 

The first night without the boys was super hard. The bunker was too silent. At night you toss and turn, barely sleeping. Around noon you decide to say fuck it and get up for the day. So you call Sam and ask for an update. Tonight Vince is holding his concert, you give vague responses when he is telling you the plan. You ask him to call you an hour before. Today you decide to go shopping and restock on some stuff. You pick up a new vape, restock your stash, and head to target. Walking through you decide you need a tv in your room if the boys are going to be gone. It’s easier to hunker down in your bedroom to ignore the fact you’re alone. Having a tv on while you sleep will help too. Getting home you spend two hours mounting the Tv when your phone rings. Looking at the caller ID you see it’s Dean calling. A picture of him sleeping lighting up your phone. You took that picture when one night you found him in his cave watching some western movie and he was sleeping, mouth wide open with beer in hand. Hesitantly you pick up the phone. Forgoing a petty comment you decide to say nothing. 

“You there?” He asks.

“I'm here.” 

“ I um..” you can hear the engine running in the background, it's around eight, they must be about to go in, “I'm just calling to ask, does it work?”

You sigh, “Dean.” 

“I know, I know, but please?”

“I can’t.” the other end goes silent, “Dean?”

“I'm here.”

“Okay.” Together you sit in silence over the phone for a few minutes before he ends the call, “Sammy’s walking up, I’ll see you in a few days.” 

You could tell he was sad. It’s frustrating for him, after getting to know him in person over the last few months you've learned he feels things heavily. Despite acting like it doesn't get to him, or he’s some hardass, Dean feels more than anyone you’ve met. It's just silent. You can tell he misses you and is saddened by the constant arguing, you dont blame him, you just wish he would stop making you face the problem of knowing everything. He keeps putting you in a difficult situation, even now asking you if it's going to work. Your phone rings again, this time it's Sam.

“Hey Sam!”

“Hi y/n, we are heading to the concert. I knew you wanted me to call you.”

“Yeah, thank you Sam. Please call me when it’s done so I can stop stressing about you boys.”

“I will… Are you doing okay?”

“I am, last night was rough but I'm okay.”

“You uh..” you can sense his hesitation, you know he wants to ask about Dean.

“Dean and I are going to be okay. At least I hope so.”

“I do too.”

“We should talk more when you get home.”

“Yeah we should.”

“Alright Sammy, be safe, I love you boys.” “We love you too!”

It was weird to be sitting in your room watching psych knowing that the boys are fighting Lucifer right now. Sam’s probably holding that door open, still you don’t know how Sam held open that door. Lucifer is strong but apparently Sam’s arms are stronger. You know Dean is going to be mad at you. Their plan doesn’t work. Wait til he finds out Lucifer possesses the president. Will he ever forgive you for that? When he finds out about Jack he just might kill you. Eventually though Jack is forgivable it’ll just be awhile. Anxiously you kept checking your phone every five minutes. Thank god you decided to stay sober while the boys were gone otherwise you’d be a wreck. Already you were hitting your vape so much it was making you sick. After what felt like forever, only three hours, your phone rings and you rush to pick it up.

“Are you okay?” You say rather fast.

“Yes, princess, we're okay.” shuddering you realize you haven't looked at who was calling, “It didn't work, but you knew that. So back to square one. We will be home soon.”

“Okay.” it felt like the wind got knocked out of you, he's resorting to petty comments. 

“See you soon.”

“Yeah, see you soon.” You hung up the phone. It was so exhausting dealing with him, at this point you felt nothing. Just tired. Sam didn't call you so you assume Dean told him he called. So defeated you went to bed.

Next part

[deadcityhq]

**CHARACTER NAME:** dream, oneiros, kai’ckul… most have different names for him. most commonly dream in this current age, or morpheus. 

**CHARACTER FACECLAIM:** 

**CHARACTER AGE/DOB (if relevant/they’re not old af):** so very old i feel like i should keep this blank lmao. when the first creature capable of dreaming was born, he winked into existence.

**CHARACTER PRONOUNS/GENDER IDENTITY/SEXUALITY ETC:** he/him but tbfh he’d answer to just about any of em | agender | yes. the answer is yes.

**CHARACTER FANDOM (if relevant):** the sandman - dc comics

**OC OR CANON:** canon

**CHARACTER TYPE (for example: werewolf, shadowhunter, warlock, demon etc):** one of the endless.

**HOW LONG HAVE THEY BEEN IN NEW YORK/WHY ARE THEY THERE ETC:** freed from burgess’ prison, the concepts of ‘distance’ and ‘space’ mean much less to him. he’s in new york as often as he requires. perhaps he’s been there. more often than not in these recent days. who could say. certainly not dream. 

**IMPORTANT CHARACTER INFORMATION TO NOTE AND SHARE (this could be important headcanons for initial plotting, mini bios etc, supporting docs):**

this mostly-immortal personified concept of a being is getting the bullet point treatment because otherwise we’d be here all fucking day and no one wants that. 

dream and the rest of his siblings were begotten into existence the moment that the first being capable of dreaming, well. dreamed. 

his realm, the dreaming, has grown over the millennia and changed shape just as much as he has. creatures created by the minds of humankind, as well as himself, populate the dreaming, plus other beings who became part of his dominion through other means. like eve (she mostly just minds her business it’s fine) or cain and abel (they do *not* mind their business cain re-kills his brother on the daily but it’s fine, dream gave them shit to do). 

dream is a being of many faces and facets; depending on your culture, community or even planet you might see a different face when you look upon him, or know him as a different name. 

things aren’t always set in stone for the endless in spite of their long non-lives. some of the endless siblings have died traumatically and become a new aspect of themselves, or have simply disappeared and removed themselves from the family equation. it’s been a while since either of those things have happened, but they continue to cast a long shadow when the siblings gather together. 

dream had historically been farther removed from mortal lives than some of his siblings, due to some… tragically ending experiences when his sibling desire got involved in his affairs, and it inadvertently caused the downfall of his mortal love’s kingdom. he… knows he was a shithead about how it all went down, but does he still act like a shithead about it? yes

of course, until his sister inadvertently challenged him to know humanity a little better. this was when he first met hob gadling, made immortal by his sister’s blessing. dream became… well *he* would let the furies eat him before admitting it but he became *fascinated* by the unrelenting zeal hob had for the simple act of continuing to be alive. dream was fascinated by his particular bright humanity. and maybe, he’d never really had a friend before. it all brought him closer to the creatures whose dreaming hours he stewarded. 

WELL and then roderick burgess happened. dream became imprisoned in this aleister crowley wannabe’s basement for decades upon decades, while the world stuttered in minute but *bad* ways in his absence. people never waking up, people never being able to fall asleep… as well as nightmares escaping from the dreaming. 

EVENTUALLY dream got the hell outta there and went on his little mission to get his accessories back, all of that domino’d into hunting down the rogue nightmares, finding the vortex that his incredibly vexing sibling desire made, etcetera… with the corinthian shrunken down to a skull in his pocket, dream decided he needed to let that little nightmare and himself ruminate for a while before remaking that particular creature, and let the dreaming breathe after the unrest. 

sure hob and himself only meet once every century, but that doesn’t mean dream doesn’t keep up. especially now, with having missed their last appointment. of course, dream found him anyway and they managed a belated meeting, but it feels… pertinent somehow, to keep an eye or three on him. after all, who wouldn’t be a little alarmed to peek in on your human and find them on a different continent entirely? humans had to pack all of their belongings and find a means of transportation to complete a move like that! 

dream checks in a little more frequently now; even if he’s not always in the shape of ‘looks mostly human’. not to mention it’s been a few hundred years since he came to this city himself, there’s more than a few pockets of his dominion here it would behoove him to monitor as well. 

**THREE AESTHETICS THAT REMIND YOU OF YOUR CHARACTER:** the just-barely-there smell of ozone after a lightning strike, the sudden realization that you’re having a nightmare, a deep pool of dark water reflecting a starry night sky. 

OOC INFORMATION: 

**MUN NAME/ALIAS:** jesse

**MUN AGE:** 30

**MUN TRIGGERS:**  n/a 

[just-some-random-blogger]

You were sure to have found one by now, yet with the current economy, you weren’t sure how you were going to make it with the diner job you had, letting your other skills and talents be pushed aside.

“What’s the point? You practically have me to do all the work here for you,” Crowley mumbled, downing the rest of his wine.

you work ? 😒🧐🤡

Aziraphale sighed and bit his lip, eyes twinkling with mischief. “If you consider your work laying around here drinking, yes you do a fine job at that.”

that seems more like it

Crowley lifted his head, mock rage plastered over his face. “Better watch that tongue of yours angel, You know I love it so.” 

🧍‍♀️😨🫦 why he kinda

“Are you available now? I have cocoa biscuits and tea!”  “I don’t think I’m in any position to refuse your offer, Mr. Fell.” 

not to be dramatic but i would have dropped dead for aziraphale in that moment

“The weather is quite unpredictable is it not?” Another person appears from the shadows, encased in black, hair a lovely shade of red that makes you wish you could pull it off as well as them. They reach out their hand to you and you lean forward accepting it. 

hey 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦

He motions for you to stand and you do so, while he drapes his black jacket over you.

he WHAT

“Oh, right, the infamous phone call. It practically made his day, [...]

it made his day 🥺🥺💔💔 hes so butter lover cutie pie

“It’s no trouble at all, we’ve not much going on, isn’t that right, Crowley.” “Right, whatever he said, that’s right.” the tall lanky figure grumbles, discarding a pile of books on the floor, making you wince at the thump they leave behind.

[...] hating to leave but you walk back into the rain in your borrowed coat that fits your form. You hadn’t remembered it fitting so well before, the universe worked in mysterious ways.

THE COATTTTT FITTTSSSSSSS YN WHATTT SOBBING DOES IT FIT THE WEARRRERRR WHATTT I

Joy fills your heart as you walk out the bookshop door Crowley holds for you and Aziraphale presses a kiss to your hand, wishing you well.

im fine

Time was cruel and a fickle thing. Two figures stand on a hill under a tree, leaning into each other, what others wouldn’t see is the phantom hand resting between their palms, one of a lover past, a companion dear to them slipping into another world.

The taller one carefully drapes a long coat around the headstone, the shorter one following suit with a bouquet of flowers. In their arms they find solace, the ghost of you a mere fragment of their millennia of existence but they would live it over and again if only to be with you.

?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? you just suddenly KILLED YN? HUH WHY WHAT HUH WHY HUH WHAT HUH WHY>>?>> HELLO?

you literally didnt have to do that ???? HUHHHHWHY

whuda what did this make you happy???? I ????¿¿¿¿

anyway this was such a lovely read! i have to say if it wasn't plainly obvious that i have not watched good omens at all HAHAHAH idk i love michael sheen and david tennant and neil gaiman but i never got to watching this tho ur fic kindddddddaaaaaa makes me want to but also i know i wont cos i have like 1802480 shows and movies i 'want' to watch LMAO HAHAHA.

it honestly had me thinking 'have i reblogged that many good omen stuff HAHAHAH' but i figured you mostly tagged me because you wanted to!!! in which case i am honored <3 i give you a thousand kisses. i would read literally anything you want me to <3

Angel's Tea Under a Demon's Wing

Relationship: Aziraphale x reader x Crowley (Ineffable husbands x reader)

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, hurt, comfort, soft Aziraphale, grumpy Crowley, domestic partners, deluge of rain, job insecurity, financial stress, and a brief mention of loss & death

Summary: Time is running out for you to find a job so you can stay afloat in your small London flat. In one last desperate attempt, you swallow your pride and hand out your resume around town, praying for a miracle. As luck would have it, Aziraphale is intrigued by you and offers a proposition, despite Crowley's protests.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, repost, copy or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 2.0k+

A/N: Cheerio my lovelies! I come bearing a gift for you all. I hope you enjoy some more ineffable husbands and . I adore them so and we could all use some comfort after season 2. Special thanks also to @novaracer for beta reading. Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated! Graphic by @firefly-graphics

Time had a cruel sense of humor, and it didn’t differ on any day like today, the skies trickling with rain, warning London of an impending storm. Yet, it didn’t tear you from your conquest in searching for a job.

You were sure to have found one by now, yet with the current economy, you weren’t sure how you were going to make it with the diner job you had, letting your other skills and talents be pushed aside. You couldn’t afford to do so much longer, for you ached to be out of your apartment finding purpose other than in the books you plowed through. 

You adored your quiet life, but something inside you wanted more and knew you could strive for it. 

That is how you found yourself with a stack of resumes in hand, sliding them into the mailboxes of local businesses, praying for a miracle you would get a response. Soon enough you dip into the coffee shop across the way from the last stop you made at a quaint bookstore that was oddly still in business.

You hadn’t mustered up the courage to peruse through the piles of books even though Maggie at the record shop insisted that her landlord and the owner of the bookshop, Mr. Fell, was sweet and meant no harm. Either way, you’d been too busy at the diner until now to consider applying for a job there. You hoped something would come around, but only a miracle could make it happen. 

******

Meanwhile, Aziraphale began his morning as usual with some hot chocolate and making a record of miracles in the like when Crowley stomped in, huffing while clenching a wrinkled piece of paper. 

“Awe come on, angel. Why are you doing this?” Crowley groaned.

 Aziraphale swiped the wrinkled paper from Crowley’s grasp. “It’s only hospitable to offer the poor dear a job. I mean, look at their credentials!” he exclaimed as he excitedly flipped through another page as if he were reading a great myth instead of a resume. 

“What’s the point? You practically have me to do all the work here for you,” Crowley mumbled, downing the rest of his wine. He stretched out on the couch again, his long lean legs draped over the arm, adding an extra bit of drama to any bit of furniture. The demon could not sit on anything properly to save his life. 

Aziraphale sighed and bit his lip, eyes twinkling with mischief. “If you consider your work laying around here drinking, yes you do a fine job at that.” Crowley lifted his head, mock rage plastered over his face. “Better watch that tongue of yours angel, You know I love it so.” 

“Well, then better make yourself useful and dust the books and tidy up your plants. We should expect a visitor within the hour.” Azi smiled warmly at his partner, giddiness filling his chest when Crowley pecked him on the cheek. 

“I’ll get right on it, angel.” 

******

You huffed, drowning down your third, or was it fifth? cup of coffee. You weren’t sure why you felt this way, the stress in your shoulders building the more you typed, your brain filling with words faster than you could write or type them down.  You’d been at Nina’s shop for an hour, most of it spent scrolling through job listings, though your search also included browsing some bookstores and a new computer you have been eyeballing for months.

Alas not much had come from your ventures, but you have to admit it was a good day to get out of the flat and enjoy the fresh air and the coziness of somewhere else other than your pit of despair. You could only stay inside with yourself and your mind for so long. 

Regardless, you enjoyed the quiet chatter, the drip of the machine keeping in time with your typing, and then a ping sounds from your phone. Your heart races, could this be it? 

“Hello?” A soft angelic voice inquires from the other end. “I was calling about your interest in a job. You see I’m Aziraphale, Mr. Fell as most call me, I own the bookshop across from Nina’s coffee shop. The…Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death that one, it’s hard to miss.  Would you be interested?” 

Would I be interested? Hell yes, you would after months of finding nothing that’d pay anything for manual labor you wouldn’t imagine anything better than sorting books all day. 

“Mr. Fell, that would be lovely. When do you want me to start?” You thrum your fingers on the table, not believing your luck. 

“Are you available now? I have cocoa biscuits and tea!” 

“I don’t think I’m in any position to refuse your offer, Mr. Fell.” 

“Lovely, it’s settled then. I’ll see you within the hour, yes?” His voice is warm, reminding you of an old friend and holding hands with a friend by the lake. It made you happier than you’d been in a while and when you set your phone back on the table, glancing at the bright light streaming in through the window despite the darkening clouds of the horizon, you know you won’t refuse this job; it’s almost too good to be true. 

******

“Oh boy, that doesn’t look good,” Crowley mutters, shoving piles of books into the shelves, trying to make the shop more presentable, as Azira put it. The sky outside darkened an alarming shade of gray and Crowley could practically hear the impending storm cackling in warning. 

Aziraphale sighs, taking off his spectacles and rubbing his eyes. “Well, if worse comes to worst, we can stay in for the night and forgo the Ritz.” 

“You? Forgo the meal at the Ritz? The world must truly be ending!” Crowley exclaims, throwing himself back on the couch right as the first clap of thunder came down, the notable pitter-patter of rainfall following in its wake. 

Not a moment later, the doorbell rings, and there you are, a jacket plastered along your form, hair damp and you sneeze. “Hi, I’m here to see Mr. Fell.” 

******

“Gracious come in come in, Oh do sit down, let me take that for you!” The smaller man, Aziraphale you note, bustles around, offering you an armchair, which you sit in, groaning at the warmth. The deluge came out of nowhere, soaking you to the bone during the albeit dort walk along the street, but you ended up getting distracted at Maggie’s record shop, losing track of time as fate would have it you ended up an utter wreck at the job you’d accepted a meer hour before. 

“I’m so sorry for the state of my appearance, I should’ve brought an umbrella.” 

“The weather is quite unpredictable is it not?” Another person appears from the shadows, encased in black, hair a lovely shade of red that makes you wish you could pull it off as well as them. They reach out their hand to you and you lean forward accepting it. 

“Crowley, a pleasure to meet you. I see Aziraphale ran off before introductions.” He motions for you to stand and you do so, while he drapes his black jacket over you. It’s pleasantly warm, and you’re equally impressed with the black turtleneck and vest combination he’s currently sporting. 

You smile at the gesture. “I’m sure it’s for the tea. There was mention of it on the phone call.” 

“Oh, right, the infamous phone call. It practically made his day, though I insisted that he didn’t need to hire anyone, no don’t take it as a bad thing, necessarily. Nina and Maggie vouched for your character too so now you’re practically part of the block gang.”

“Crowley, are you interrogating our guest?” 

You pull the borrowed jacket closer around you trying not to shiver in a combination of nerves and excitement. The easy banter between the two of them makes you feel at ease and it comforts you how relaxed they are in each other's presence. If all your days could be spent with a gentle, quiet and constant companion by your side, then you couldn’t possibly want for more. 

“I am sorry for inconveniencing you.” you blurt out, Mr. Fell’s gaze meeting yours in quiet understanding. 

“It’s no trouble at all, we’ve not much going on, isn’t that right, Crowley.” 

“Right, whatever he said, that’s right.” the tall lanky figure grumbles, discarding a pile of books on the floor, making you wince at the thump they leave behind. 

That must’ve hurt, you grumble. 

“They’ll be alright” Crowley grumbles. 

Whoops, you had spoken that out loud. You clench your jaw, trying in vain to relax, the nerves flowing through you, making your stomach tie itself in knots despite your mind’s protests. 

“Crowley, I would appreciate it if you didn’t throw my books in that manner,” Mr Fell’s brow quirks, eyes lighting in quiet mirth as he leans over to whisper, “He does that when he’s grouchy.” 

“I assume it happens frequently, then.” 

“Usually when I irk him or someone else, which is at least three times a week or more.” 

Crowley scowls, “It’s not that frequent!” 

You smile at the easy banter between them, the way they brought you into this small sphere of their  world and it makes you feel less alone than you have had in months. You enjoyed this, the glances they tossed back and forth with the ease of old lovers, twin soulmates of the universe ancient in their own right. 

“Well then, I think it’s settled,” Aziraphale faces you, hands clasped, a smile gracing his lips. You burrow further into the jacket Crowley lent you from the deluge, nervous for the outcome. In the next moment, Aziraphale hands you cocoa, finalizing the matter, “I think we’ll get along just fine, my dear.”  

******

Countless hours later you’re sandwiched between them on a plush couch, Aziraphale (he insisted you didn’t have to call him Mr. Fell) with a book on his lap and Crowley with a drink in his hand. You’re halfway listening to the story Aziraphale tells, still delirious and in disbelief that you scored a job and somehow gained two companions you’ve felt you have known ages. The hours passed by quicker than you imagined and you didn’t want to leave. 

Months without a job and companionship have you linger in the doorway and you smile at them fondly, hating to leave but you walk back into the rain in your borrowed coat that fits your form.

You hadn’t remembered it fitting so well before, the universe worked in mysterious ways. But, you found a thread of hope, warmth, love and acceptance and you sure as hell aren’t letting go of it for anything.

Joy fills your heart as you walk out the bookshop door Crowley holds for you and Aziraphale presses a kiss to your hand, wishing you well. You don’t think you’ve been more excited for a job-or anything than you have now. No more moments you would take for granted now that you had them, a life complete and full of laughter and love. 

******

Time was cruel and a fickle thing. Two figures stand on a hill under a tree, leaning into each other, what others wouldn’t see is the phantom hand resting between their palms, one of a lover past, a companion dear to them slipping into another world.

Time could be cruel, but it had given an angel and a demon a mortal companion to care for alongside each other and blessing or cursing time, one thing is for certain, they were grateful for all the moments, no matter how limited, that they got to spend with you. And they had a silly little resume and a fateful deluge of rain to thank for it.

The taller one carefully drapes a long coat around the headstone, the shorter one following suit with a bouquet of flowers. In their arms they find solace, the ghost of you a mere fragment of their millennia of existence but they would live it over and again if only to be with you.

******